#theyfeast

@theyfeast​

" Did you kill them ? Did you kill my friends ? " from humpback girl. oop.

The tendrils twist and snap at seeing the humpback girl again. Their very tempted to dart out and drag her into the mirrors for the time that had his mirrors broken. A tsk might of been heard from the creature after a while, hands resting on his hips to refrain from attacking. 

The question only has a few of the tendrils shake from side to side in a ‘ no ‘ fashion. She makes it sound like he dragged them all away into the mirrors. Would of been wonderful if he could but that was not the case. 

attention moves, shifting over form as his husband enters the room. a single brow raises for a moment before expression softens and armand very nearly smiles. can he really be blamed? santiago was... exciting. beautiful. endearing.

santiago lays across his lap . ' 🥺 ' // @theyfeast //

it'd been a busy night. the theatre had been packed full, a new play enjoying its opening performance and the company had been a buzz in the aftermath. armand, coven master, creative director, he had a job to do. egos to soothe, compliments to give, momentary flickers of advice that would come to be more in depth in the following days. but eventually, there comes a more settling kind of air. the celebrations are ongoing, groups scattered all around enjoying the remainder of the night, and armand finds a peaceful moment to sit, drink in hand, and relish the success.

he spies santiago from the corner of his eye, anticipates that he'll step into full view in some way or another and there's a flash of amusement at the way in which it comes. the sprawling across armand's lap, the way he looks up at him.

drink is set down, cigarette switched to that hand so that he might free up a hand in order to let drift down. casual, as if it were a mere afterthought to acknowledge the vampire's presence. for now, the touch is soft through his hair before finally, after long drag from cigarette, armand gifts him with a look, eyes meeting.

“You worry too much,” A voice softer than a breeze, like crackling electricity through his throat, that had somehow both gained and lost confidence over the course of their companionship. Did she worry, he asked himself, and then quickly stowed the thought away. Of course she did. She had to. If she was still here, she had to. And still the thought swirled inside his head like a pestering swarm of flies and he brought the inside of his lip between his teeth in contemplation. A hand quickly moved underneath the veil of protection that was his paper bag to rub a knuckle into his eye. He swept his knee upwards until it thudded with his chest and he smiled loosely despite knowing she couldn’t see it. “‘Is fine,” He murmured and his palm slid down to try and cover the bleeding, throbbing wound on top of his foot. Hastily, he clarified: “I’m fine.”

theyfeast

Kicks the mirrors kicks the mirrors kicks the mirrors kicks the mirrors kicks the mirro - You know who this is from