#rebelsounds

The gift basket is delivered on Harrowing night, by a red-eyed youth in a zombie costume. Tied together with a orange-and-black striped ribbon, the basket contains an abundance of little treats: wrapped candies, chocolate bars, a bouquet of strange multicolored flowers.

The young zombie skitters off into the night as soon as the gift is received.

Nestled among these little delights is a black wine bottle, and around its neck is a note: 'With harrowing love -VS'.

But when the bottle is opened-- surprise! It's a trick! It's not actually a bottle of wine at all! It's the crimson reaper himself, rising from the blood to give Michio a kiss! Mwahahaha!

     “Wonder, is it?” 

     His eyes never let go of Michio, even as he rises from the couch and towards the window, on a slow graceful pace. The curve of amusement never seems to leave his lips while in this company, and remains even as he considers the truth of the statement. The simplicity of it all.

     Is his magic born from wonder, or fear? Imagination, or carnage? 

     And what of him? 

     Vladimir finds it in himself to look away, to the cityscape outside the window. Noxus lacks wonder. Noxus lacks curiosity. And here arrives a golden little spirit of both, to remind Vladimir of what it is. Powerful magic, it is. Strong enough to make Vladimir sigh, and smile, and turn himself back around to look at Michio.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN ! | accepting 

     “You can have both, darling,” Vladimir says, grazing his fingertips along Michio’s arm. He kisses him with smiling lips, and with his other hand, presses a red-foiled candy into his palm. 

     He pulls away, and lingers close to Michio, arms around his neck. The trace of laughter resonates in his voice.

CASTLEVANIA. | accepting | @rebelsounds

     “Oh, my. Look at you go,” Vladimir comments.  

     Perhaps Michio can’t even hear him. That golden boy’s already well above him, a few stories up alongside a building, navigating the pipes and windowsills as though they were a fun toy, and not fragile structures prone to breaking and sending the poor fool falling to his death at Vladimir’s feet. 

     But Michio’s right— he’s got quick reflexes, and seems entirely comfortable when he’s so far off the ground. Vladimir watches, head tilted upwards and arms crossed over his chest, and wonders just exactly how he got here, in a dingy Zaunite alleyway, watching a living danger sign climb up even higher.

     Vladimir has no inclination to raise his voice in an effort to get Michio to hear him, but speaks anyway, in a droll sort of tone that matches his bemused smile.