#kindeditor

                                                  ❝     klaus , i say this with love .      i want a waffle . a real one this time , not an eggo.     ❞

       ❛    your  father  would  have  berated  you  for  such  a  big  tattoo,  you  know  ------  but  don’t  worry,  i  won’t.   i  quite  like  it.    ❜   it’s  always  been  her  job  to  do  what  reginald  said,  but  it  was  never  her  job  to  be  like  him.    ❛    i  think  it  looks  very  brave.    ❜

SOFT ANGST STARTERS.

“Oh, it does.” His tone was snippy, like a baby corn snake ready to bite. Harmless, but still ON EDGE. Being around Olaf always left him ON EDGE, for he was a dangerous man to associate with. But, so was Ernest. Judging by the turn in conversation, Olaf was ON EDGE, too.

They fueled each other’s metaphorical flame. Maybe that’s why people defect. Everyone VFD captures initiates kidnaps has a spark, but sometimes a spark grows destructive, to themselves and others. NO one on their side of the schism was safe. NO one was safe.

each time i hear about god, i care for it less and less. must they all be so preoccupied, so haunted by the thought of him? by his possible existence? should it haunt me? had they, all of them – especially louis, dear louis with his tortuous right and wrong – not made me so fed up with his notion, it could be an amusing thought to entertain. but i answer to no one. i know i never have. even in my moments of deepest fear i’ve known, i’ve always known, there will be no simple end to me. no end at all. even those amongst us, the very few who could be stronger, wiser, have yet to inspire fear within me. fascination is all they’ve inspired. at times exquisite, at times morbid. this particular one maybe both (he is as beautiful as he is raging, and i am oh so bemused!).

he looks at me with such intensity, such pure anger, i can return to him nothing but an expression of my delight in it. a returned interest in my stare, a defiance in my subtle smile. why am i so intent on provoking him i do not know. all i know is that i am, and that as the damned creature i am, i shall do as i please.      ‘why should i, should any of us have any need for his help?’

   ‘should he exist, why would we answer to us? aren’t we the creatures of the wicked and not the divine? you’d be wiser calling for me, not for him. our kind, one another is all we have’

“For fuck’s sake--will you stop waxing bloody poetic for one fucking second and speak English?”

Maybe that was a bit of unchecked irritation, but being as old as he was, it felt warranted. There was a youth about the vampire, old for their kind but still far younger than he. And of a different species, to boot. He’d heard of this Lestat fellow from the Parisian vampires he’d once encountered seeming eons ago, and again in this more modern era with a band--one he wasn’t sure if it was still active or not. While others in the vampiric community had been irate with how he’d been a vampire masquerading as a human pretending to be a vampire, and how he couldn’t give a shit. No one in this day and age believed it, anyhow. Not unless some savage display of prowess was given, braggart and offending to mortal sensibilities that rejected the very notion. And this encounter brokered something quite close to toeing over that line. 

“Frankly, I rarely give a shit in these matters, but just because our kind has dissolved into the realm of fiction doesn’t mean hunters still exist. Blood thirsty little bastards who’d gladly bag a kill as prestigious as you, or some shit.”

Was this the moment he revealed himself, or no? Mm, no. There was no real need yet. Hell, plenty of their own kind even thought he was a fabrication, so why drop down that particular bit of information he gladly kept to himself. 

WHY AREN’T WE ROLEPLAYING    ?            ( ACCEPTING. ) 

    ✦ — I’m shy and/or horrible at approaching people!

   ✧ — I would like you to send me an IM so we can talk!

oh shy / horrible at approaching , that is .. a mood! & catch me hopping into ur ims v soon! :eyes: 

           ‘how are you holding up?’ since finding him in the MOTEL room and narrowly getting away, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of concern after seeing his bloodied face. maybe it was just for diego’s sake or maybe it was just her nature but either way the detective’s eyes softened as she watched him. he’d CLEANED up well enough, all things considered. ‘i can call your brother to come pick you up if you need a ride.’