#skinclocks

♱ ▒ | | | @skinclocks : ↳ send me a🚶 &. i'll introduce you to an NPC !

name. elena díaz. — dob. 1852. — gender. ciswoman. — birthplace. barcelona. — residence. currently unknown. — nationality. spaniard. — relationship to cecily. lovers-to-enemies. — status. currently unknown. — fc. alisha boe.

meet ( ... ) ELENA DIAZ , an opera singer originally hailing from spain. she was born into an affluent family of reputable name, &. was set to inherit her father's blossoming theatre company. cecily first met her in barcelona circa 1874, &. their romance was swift &. fiery — cecily had never fallen so madly in love before. elena knew cecily was a vampire from very early on, &. was accepting of it ; even going so far as to plead with cecily to change her so they could spend eternity together. love-drunk &. hopeful, cecily did. two days before they had intended to secretly be married, elena as well as every trace of her, was gone. cecily to current day still has no idea what became of elena after she was given her immortal kiss, &. she remains to be cecily's greatest heartbreak after all this time.

his eyes flickered awake, where he had been — not asleep, but more comfortably relaxed by her couch. she had been pacing to and fro behind him, humming, distracted in the kitchen. he could smell the coffee she had been enjoying when the chime of the bell had interrupted this quiet peace. had she been expecting guests, perhaps magnus? pulling himself to his feet, he sped a hand through his tousled hair and exhaled. ❛❛ i'll get it. ❜❜  and yet, by the time he had, he wished he had stayed put; opening the door, a strange and unfamiliar pair of eyes stared back at him. they were blue, he realised through his foggy sight, and looked concerned at the sight of him.

his eyes dropped low. in the stranger's hands were a patch of flowers he had retained enough sense about living customs to know, weren't exchanged between friends. then he was speaking, albeit awkwardly : uh, sorry? is tessa home? he bit back another exhale, clicking his tongue softly. if he felt the sting of dejection at all, he was beyond showing it. of course she is, he said, and hadn't needed to ask what their purpose was here. inside, her voice rose up too. who's at the door?

new york was chilly, a frightful breeze ; whether he felt it or not was more dubious, as his stern-faced frown gave little away, even as small flecks of snow swayed down from the high-rise towers to peck the flushed skin of his cheeks. he had been half way out the door when a hand had clasped his shoulder, effectively roping him back inside the borders of the apartment's parameters, and as he had opened his mouth to speak, he fell at once quiet at the sight of her sporting a far more persuasive scowl. ❛❛ you are fussing. ❜❜