#montclairbaldwin

Continuation of the tale with @montclairbaldwin

What was time? A concept. Nothing more. A concept Armand has long lost. Starvation and the trauma of losing everyone he loved made him an easy target. But Amadeo didn’t give in without a fight. A fledgling of a few months in life took out another vampire by ripping that head off. His strength was there when provoked. And despite not being able to answer Santino’s pressing questions about ’Those Who Must Be Kept’ the Roman coven master must have seen something in the young fledgling who had ancient blood in his veins.

And yet, Amadeo, now Armand, did not make it to his new destination. Their carriage was ransacked, and Amadeo did not fight back. He was a perfect statue of indifference. He didn’t care at all. He didn’t care for the bloodbath. He didn’t care for the wrath of that ancient vampire who ripped Armand’s travel companies apart. Armand had spent the last years under Santino’s watch training the only last thing he had: his mind. He worked on shielding it, on forcing intruders into his mind onto a route he decided on, and furthermore, Armand worked on his resistance to the sun. The longer he could hold on to consciousness, the safer he was.

His long, slender fingers finally reached out the closer the unknown vampire was. His grasp was not threatening and soft. He didn’t speak. He didn’t think. Armand was a blank canvas in a very deliberate manner. Heretic. That’s what the old one was. A heretic like Amadeo’s master. Was he being kidnapped again? Armand wondered but didn’t fight. His gaze wandered over to the others this ancient one brought with him.

Marius. The whisper in his ear answered the questions he had. This ancient one must be a friend of his dead Master. Still silent. Still not moving. Making Santino pay for his crimes. The corner of Armand’s mouth twitched. Heretic. Heretic. Destroy the heretic. Riccardo. Armand’s mind froze for a second. He saw the boy with olive skin and dark curls in front of him. Riccardo. His brother. His best friend. The victim Santino threw in the dungeon cell of a starving, screaming vampire. He remembered the Vampire he killed for throwing the ashes of his burned brothers into his face. Amadeo remembered his Maker, his Marius, his companion. He remembered seeing him burning.

Armand cocked his head and finally decided to look into the old one’s eyes. His lips parted. Slow. Deliberate. His fangs bared even though they were smaller than those of a normal vampire for a reason Armand had not figured out yet.

❝Do not invade my mind, old one.❞ Armand’s voice was smooth, almost like it was made of the finest damask. And yet, there was a warning coming with his words. His mind, his memories, they were the only things he had left. And he wanted to decide what the heretic was allowed to see.

Armand took a small step closer. This man was a friend of his Maker. Marius. His Marius.

❝I am not broken. I will never be broken.❞ His voice was smooth. A warning, maybe. ❝And thus, why should I trust a heretic?❞ Armand stopped himself as if he wanted to push the indoctrination of Rome to the back of his mind. ❝You ask me if I have fight in me. And I can give you any answer you wish to hear just to ensure my survival, as you will kill me when my mind does not meet your expectations.❞ He spoke eloquently for the first time again. Just as Marius taught him, the way the Rat King himself despised.

❝You want to see how much fight is left in me? Then do it the Roman way and put me to the test.❞

"The life before this was a boarding school that was little more than a gilded cage I loved and loathed in equal measure due to the things I went through whilst attempting to complete my education and the life before that was an actual cage with a locked door and jail bars coated in vervain which I super duper loathed but the people that kept me caged did teach me some tricks. So, please, believe me when I tell you that I don't go back, I just go forward." A beat and then: "And I keep my eyes open and my ears to the ground."

As Edna Mode said: I never look back, it distracts from the now.

And the now is this: Matthew has vanished, Matthew is missing.

Which is terrifying in and of itself. Because Matthew quickly became a constant. A port against the storm.

Yet, all that is missing can be found. And nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed. That's what her mom used to say, anyway. Floribeth doesn't delight in wielding what has been taught to her like a weapon, but for her new family? For those who so gracefully took her in? She'll do anything.

Walking across the grounds of the tournament, Philippe let his gaze wander. As much as his appearance had been for his personal pleasure, he was constantly observing his surroundings. Information could find him at any moment, useful or not. A man like him was always aware of this. Accompanied by his son, he was well assured that nothing would get past them.

@montclairbaldwin : A tournament is for men to boost their strength, fathers sell their daughters like mares and for affairs to happen.

He arched a brow, looking at Baldwin, his gaze a mix of surprise and amusement. "You are not wrong. Though I disagree that this is all it is. It is a social gathering. People interact, stories are exchanged. We make use of it."

Philippe thoroughly enjoyed a good tournament, participating and watching alike. Part of him wondered if Baldwin would share the sentiment although he could see why if he didn't.

He was not an easy man to be with, it took a very strong resilient person to be able to withstand him and Amadeo made his dissatisfaction clear. If Baldwin was romantic, it was not in the flowers and the poems but in listening, in knowing that his next step was critical to not step into a landmine.

"Good boy-" he repeated per Amadeo's request and signalled to someone ten minutes, his hand on Amadeo's back to guide him out of the room and down the hall, into another room, an empty office and locking the door.

"You deserve a little kiss, do you? Go on, justify why you are entitled to affection. For what? Doing what you are supposed to during what you knew to be a work function that you chose to attend?" he asked grabbing Amadeo's chin with a curled index finger to raise his gaze. " I would like a little kiss sounds a lot more apt, don't you think?" he asked the way a man confront a brat like Amadeo.

He was a rare man, in that he somehow came across as charming while being rather bratty. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Amadeo's in a rather passionate kiss, his hand in the back of the young man's head to control his movement and capture him fully.

"Stay half an hour, charm the husbands and the wives-and then..." Baldwin slid his Centurion card into Amadeo's pocket. "Tell the driver to take you home, buy yourself something pretty and have a bath. I'll take you out to Mayfair for brunch on Sunday" Baldwin would resist the sun sleep just to take him out to brunch and reward him.

@montclairbaldwin

A tremor went through his entire body once more as he was called a good boy a second time. Could Baldwin stop turning Amadeo into a puddle? That was certainly how much he was melting on the spot right now. And yet, he tried his best to keep his composure in public. These people were like bloodhounds, trying to pick up a weakness or anything else they could use against you. 

But the very moment Baldwin took his hand in public, Amadeo’s nose went up a little higher than before. There. Look at it, peasants. That’s what his stretched-up posture wanted to say. Shoulders back, chest out, chin up. That’s how Amadeo waltzed through the room, through the hall until the empty office door was locked behind them. 

In a swift movement, Amadeo turned around to face the vampire with a smug little grin. He craned his neck and looked up even more with the guidance of Baldwin’s finger under his chin. Slowly, Amadeo lifted his hands to let them linger on the other man’s sides. Almost automatically, his body tried to straighten more, trying to bridge the significant height difference by getting on his tiptoes. His eyelids lowered a little bit, soft warm lips parted in anticipation for his little reward. A reward, he certainly wouldn’t get by demanding it in such a bratty manner. But will this ever stop Amadeo from acting the way he feels? No.

❝Hmmm~ For giving you a splendid image, my love. For seeing things you cannot see because you have to put your attention on very specific clients. I am your ears and your eyes for the little things that might be unimportant to the ordinary eye, but not to you.❞ His hands moved up from Baldwin’s sides until his flat palms came to rest on that strong chest he adored so much. ❝I would like a kiss. Please?❞ Those words came out in a tone that was barely above a whisper but delivered with so much longing and desire that it couldn’t be a cunning act of a mischievous young man.  

No, he knew what he wanted, and the moment the gap between them was closed, Amadeo’s eyes fluttered closed. His arms wrapped around Baldwin’s neck, and his slightly trembling body remained solely on his tiptoes through the entire passionate kiss that took Amadeo’s breath away. His cheeks flushed from the lack of air, along with his rapidly beating heart. Such a strong muscle pumping more and more blood through the veins to make up for the ridiculous amount of adrenaline that was sent through the arteries. Stay still pesky little clock. Don’t let this end too soon. But it did. It ended too soon.

Even after Baldwin pulled away from the kiss, Amadeo almost forgot to breathe again. Oh, this damnable man and his damnable ways of turning Amadeo’s knees into nothing but pudding.

Slowly, and visibly reluctant, Amadeo lowered his arms, and yet, he didn’t lower them to his sides, but he grabbed Baldwin by the lapels to pull him a little closer. He stole a sweet peck from those lips he kissed just mere seconds ago. ❝You are so good to me. So let me be good to you.❞ Playfully, he bit that bottom lip even though it must have felt like nothing more than a nibble. ❝Be careful with Mister Ackford. His wife wears fake Louboutins. She claims that those are real So Kate 120 and that her husband gifted them to her a week ago. They are not real. She wears fake ones because a very special print in the red sole is done upside down. It’s a good fake, but it is just that— fake. And which man who owns so much money cannot buy his wife an original $800 or something shoe? Think about that, mon coeur.❞ Amadeo winked, kissed Baldwin again, and finally let go of him as they had to return to business.

Wine was shared with his son as they sat outside the tent. Most of their conversations were tactical discussions, but on a rare evening like this, the conversations turned more personal. Philippe had lived a long life before he even met Baldwin, there was a lot he could teach the younger man.

@montclairbaldwin : “do you ever worry about the kind of person you're becoming?”

In a way, he had been expecting the question and yet it came with a bit of surprise. It did not show on his face, though. Philippe always held his emotions heavily guarded, even around his family. The only person who got to see more of his emotional world was his wife. But now, even if just for a brief moment, he was going to open up a bit more.

"I used to, in the beginning. As a mortal, I was seen as one of the gods, and I started to believe it. It was a rather humbling experience to die." He could chuckle about it now but centuries ago it had been a cause of frustration. "When I was turned I did not know what to make of it at first. My maker explained this new life to me, she was rather thorough. An immortal life... it sounded just like what I had thought to be throughout my mortal life. I was worried what would become of me this time." He took a sip of his wine, a thoughtful pause following.

Baldwin Montclair aka Uncle B aka @montclairbaldwin as seen through Floribeth's eyes. From left to right:

Reminding the next generation of Philippe's wisdom seemed appropriate.

They finally have a read on Matthew's location!

Flori circled back to the lab for some more intel. Just to be safe.

He's either thinking very hard or glaring someone to death.

Squinting against the sun.

Oh, look, he does smile!

"Thank you" he whispered into Armand's hair, Armand who had to not only shelter his own fledgling but Miyako who would for ever be just eighteen. She ran to him too. "It will be alright-" Baldwin held them smooshed together into his chest.

"Who's the redheads?" (baldwinmand verse cause that Armand needs a hug too).

@montclairbaldwin

Armand was the first to rush outside when he heard the helicopter. Their world had fallen into chaos now that the Queen had awakened and Lestat had vanished from this earth. After Baldwin’s call, Armand had turned San Francisco upside down until he found Miyako and brought her and Daniel back to Night Island. The wind of the rotor blades of the helicopter messed Armand’s hair up completely, and even the dark, silken button shirt he had put so neatly under the waistline of his trousers loosened and flapped uncontrollably in the wind. Just seeing Baldwin’s face felt like a huge weight was finally lifted off his shoulders. All the internal anxiety of the past days was suddenly non-existent anymore. For the first time in so long, Armand didn’t think; he didn’t weigh out his options; he simply bridged the distance between them at such a quick pace that it could be considered running.

Their bodies collided, arms wrapped around each other, and Armand clung to his friend like a drowning person. He nuzzled his nose against Baldwin’s neck and allowed himself to close his eyes for a bit. ❝You would’ve done the same for Daniel. I’m so glad you’re here,❞ Armand whispered breathlessly, and his voice sounded hoarse, as if he had to hold back his tears. Just for a moment, even if it wasn’t long, there was no one else on this Island. Nothing mattered right now. Nothing.

Maybe Armand would’ve really drowned in this moment if it hadn’t been for Miyako joining them. All three of them remained in this position for a little longer. What an odd sight this must be for everyone around to witness. And sadly, Armand got reminded that they couldn’t stay here like that forever. Carefully, he lowered his hands from the grasp on Baldwin’s suit jacket and took a step back.

❝Her name is Maharet. She wants us to gather in her Sonoma compound in California. But we decided to wait for your arrival until the talks can start. I will formally introduce you. Come…❞ Armand squeezed Baldwin’s arm gently before he took a step aside to give Miyako more space with her Maker. ❝…we won’t leave for the next few nights, I think. A twin room was prepared for you and for Miyako. I figured you two want to stay close.❞ Before Miyako could say something, Armand gave her a quick look. ❝It will be better if you two stay close.❞    

Armand looked deeply into Baldwin’s eyes for a moment. And when no one paid attention, Armand revealed a flicker of vulnerability. A flicker of worry for what was to come.

in every generation there is a chosen one / @montclairbaldwin

"then you came to the right place." placing a bookmark between the pages of the fifth volume of the journal of vampire studies by the vampire study association, floribeth grinned up at him. a normal, regular human-esque grin, that is. "what exactly are you looking for?"

on her phone, there's a pdf with the title the vampire encyclopedia by matthew bunson, and yes, floribeth had gently teased matthew about it, after hearing about it from marcus.

(she's certain it's just a case of same first name, no relation, but the visual of matthew - a vampire - publishing an entire vampire encyclopedia is very funny.)

"sean doesn't really like most people sniffing about but i've proven my mettle and he knows i won't do anything to damage the books. so i'm allowed to work on my vade mecum---" about eastern vampires. "---whenever i want."