#sanguinaryshadows

“That book isn’t going anywhere,” Dorian closes the book with the pen still on the page, acting as a bookmark. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. Spend some time with me.”

“No, father. You’re a mess.” Dorian’s voice is stern. “I can easily lure humans into the hotel for you to eat. Have something besides alcohol or you’ll be throwing up all night.”

The bottle slowly moves from the ground and floats to the other side of the room. “It’s for the best.”

Dorian heads into his hotel room and changes into a black turtleneck and jeans. He stops to casually check on the stab wound. It had almost finished healing. Dorian’s healing abilities were dampened at the moment due to him not eating for a little over a week. He turns to D’Ablo. “Leave your phone.”

Dorian opens his eyes and starts to shoot D’Ablo a dirty look but stops when he realizes that he’s looking at his own face, that someone was talking to him with his own voice. He looks down at his own hands, bony and pale. This wasn’t his body. Dorian vaults out of bed and runs into the bathroom. “Fuck!” If his life wasn’t already shitty, this was the final straw. He was hot, yes, but it wasn’t the type of hot he preferred. He desperately wanted his own body back. He didn’t enjoy living in the body of a man that thinks taking vodka shots in his kitchen at 12 pm classified as self-care.

D’Ablo scurries back into the bathroom, shoving next to Dorian to gaze at his reflection with him. He chews the inside of his -- Dorian’s -- cheek, crossing his arms in front of his chest. It’s so disorienting, he keeps looking at his body’s reflection, and seeing Dorian’s mannerisms in it it makes him frown, but still-- he is one attractive bastard. He groans and stomps out of the bathroom, rifling through Dorian’s closet for something to wear.

“Mm. Hello, Darling. It’s not like you to show such gentle acts of affection.” Dorian tangles his fingers in D’Ablo’s hair.

                the first sensation enrico remembered feeling upon regaining consciousness was a burning unlike any other that radiated from his Mark and spread along every fiber of his hand. it felt as though the limb had been stoked in a forge, but no damage reflected on his hand. his fingers twitched, curling in and out curiously as the fog diminished some. soon he groaned softly, eyes squinting tightly before blinking open to gaze blearily at the ceiling. enrico parted his lips to take in a breath, blinking a few times more as his blurry, clouded vision adjusted to a clearer focus. his mind felt heavy, like he was still weighted down underwater; the thoughts couldn't quite arrange themselves in a coherent order and the dark waves of unconsciousness beckoned to drown him.

                     otis's voice pulled him from the depths back to the world of the waking. enrico's gaze moved curiously around the dimly-lit room, a expression of nothingness on his face. a moment passed then before tears sprang to his olive green eyes and flowed freely down his cheeks. his hands covered his face as a sob broke past his throat. ❝ you should have let me die. this is no life for me without dorian. you're cruel, otis.❞

          enrico shook his head solemnly, mostly remaining silent as dorian explained (or what could be explained) about adrian's sudden demise. he knew dorian wasn't telling him the full story, but in this moment, it didn't matter. he would grieve with his son for adrian's soul to find peace just the same.

         enrico's apartment was dark, maybe lit by one of two candles in the kitchen. ideal for an overwhelmed vampire. even the city's normal traffic below and bustling population seemed.... filtered out, leaving the apartment eerily quiet.