#tw-murder

The Lovers: At what age did your muse first fall in love?

Effie’s not sure if she has been in love yet. She had a somewhat serious boyfriend at fifteen that she claimed to love but he was killed and she moved on. That’s as close as it gets. They were together for half a year though before all that went down.

Where: Christian’s apartment When: April 13th Mentions: Heidi  Triggers: murder, blood

Bellamy knew about the carnival but she wasn’t up for it. She was still nursing her wounded pride from her encounter with Shawn and had instead opted for a day in with some take out food and movies. Why not? On her way back to her home, however, someone else had other plans...

It had been a relatively quiet morning for a change.  Ana hadn't even bothered to change out of sweats and a hoodie as she relaxed on the couch. Despite the chaos of knowing people in town were possessed she felt at peace. Nicolas had offered her the best offer anyone had when it came to the goals she had wanted to achieve and what better was there? She still felt bad about Cameron, but people were stepping stones like she had said a million times before. Reading one of her books she was lost in that instead when she heard the knock. It wasn't often she had visitors so it was always best to remain cautious.

Putting her book down she went to get it, but she paused in surprise when she saw both her parents on the other side of the door. 

"Mom? Dad? What's-" Anastasia was confused, her heart picking up pace in her chest as she saw it wasn't only them.

Someone else approached and without hesitation or question she slit both of their throats in front of the young witch. A horrified look came over her expression as she felt like the air had been knocked right from her lungs. She wanted to scream but no sound came out at first as she watched them choking on their own blood and gasping for air that wouldn't come while the witch did so again. The blood dripped and left puddles of it at their feet as Anastasia did finally hear someone scream. Maybe a witness. No, it was her own scream she had unknowingly let out. She felt dizzy as they both collapsed in a pool of their own blood at the witches feet.

"No no please..." Ana fell to her knees, scrambling to help them as she pressed her hands to her father's throat first and then she tried the same with her mom.  "Please.."

Her hands were shaking as she lifted them to find them coated in her parents blood, and her stomach gave a sudden sharp twist. She thought she might be sickbut she managed not to. At least for now. Their lifeless eyes stared back at her and gave her an image she'd never be able to forget. Silent tears streamed down her face as her expression became stoic . Not uncaring. Not emotionless. In shock. She felt shutdown as she slowly stood up now painted in her own parents blood from attempting to help.

A pair of dead brown eyes looked at nothing in particular as she went down the hall to leave the building. She was vaguely aware of the sight of her parents car and the vampire she could recognize behind the wheel, but she felt like she was a million miles away watching things unfold. When she stepped outside she wasn't an easy sight to miss. A few stared, but a couple people approached cautious and tried to get her attention.

"I--I need help," Anastasia stammered as she looked around but not really looking for anything in particular.  "Their dead....they..."

It felt like everything after floated away. She felt empty. Of course the police came and a ambulance but what good did that do? Wrapped in a blanket from an officer she sat on the gurney in the back of the ambulance as they had checked her for any physical wounds given how much blood she was soaked in. She wasn't in any position to explain, but the scene was obvious enough. There was nothing that needed to be done. She watched absently as the bodies of her parents were taken out in the black bags. It didn't feel final, at least not yet. She couldn't process it as her mind had shut down the idea. It was her fault and that much she knew. Her parents meant the world to her. They were the one good living link left that she would have given everything to and would have defended till the end.

Now that they were dead it felt like cutting a very significant cord. Like losing the one thing left tethering her to the reality she knew. Summer picnics, dad watching the tv too loud, mom sewing in the living room.... It felt like someone shattered it all and her glassy eyed perspective of her upbringing was nothing but dust and ghosts. Nicolas was right. She didn't need anyone else. She needed herself, and she sure the hell would not let this go down easily. Whatever light and the slightest spark of good that used to light up her brown eyes seemed to go out like a candle in the morning. The brightness that would show up when she laughed a genuine laugh. When Matt told her he'd be there. When Leo promised to help. When Dom said he cared.  It was like watching memories flip past, but each one erased of their attachment shortly after. 

The sunlight shinned through the gap in the two french doors to their balcony like a little glimmer of hope for the soon to be falling city. Lukas rolled over onto his side, tangled in white sheets as the woman next to him was still fast asleep. Her blonde hair was splayed out around her head like an odd sort of halo that made him smirk. The comparisons he could make were laughable really. 

Finding his cloths, he was in the middle of getting dressed when he felt Nicolette's hands on his shoulder's and lips at his neck.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. "I'll get us some breakfast."

Lukas admired the sight as she grabbed a white button up from the floor and sauntered off to the kitchen in only that. He tossed open the french doors, staring down at the bustling French Quarter below them. The city was alive in colors and smells; street performers on the curb panhandling, and kids happily handing the entertainers their only coins.

By the time he came into the kitchen he found Nicolette sliding some eggs from the pan and onto two plates on their island counter. 

"What's on the agenda today Mr. Blackwell?" she asked smoothly, a smile on her lips. "Well I don't know Mrs. Blackwell, what do you want to do?" Lukas returned, reaching across for a piece of toast that he bit into as he enjoyed the twinkle of amusement in her hazel eyes. "I was thinking we could to the river walk again. See the boats." "You do love them don't you?" "Reminds me of home."

He nodded in understanding, the two lapsing into silence while they ate. The six month whirlwind of a romance had caught Lukas off guard. He hadn't meant to settle, but Margaret insisted he try. It was only out of pure spite that he wandered into a witches bar in New Orleans and met the pretty young woman. She was smitten with him from day one, batting her eyes and telling jokes. He thought he could forget her in the morning, but alas no such thing occurred. 

Nicolette was cleaning the plates off in the sink while he went to the bedroom to pick her an outfit and find his own for the day. She always did get a kick out of him picking out her cloths for the day. Some sort of weird game they had adapted over the course of the last few months. He pulled a sundress from the closet when he heard a disheartening noise. The door was off its hinges, kicked in violently, and the next sound Lukas heard was Nicolette's screams. When he came around to the kitchen he found three grown men all with wicked looks on their faces. One had grabbed Nicolette and was holding a knife to her throat while she stare in a panic at Lukas. Begging with her eyes for him to do something.

"What will it be leech?" the man asked, tightening his hold. "Lukas-" "It's no matter to me."

A blatant lie, but he hoped maybe if it was no interest to him that they may give up the game. He could see the hurt on Nicolette's face, but he conveyed nothing. He was stone cold as he waited and watched. The man suddenly laughed. An outfight maniacal laugh that sent a chill even down Lukas' spine. Suddenly he slit Nicolette's throat and tossed her to the floor. She choked and twitched on the floor as her life spilled out onto the hardwood floor. Lukas tried not to show his shock as he stared down at her, head tilted to the side in what could only be described as curiosity.

Is that what it felt like? Losing someone you cared for? It was a curious thing, but it didn't reach far enough to put any life into his dead heart. The man spat on Nicolette, and then pointed the knife at Lukas.

"You're not welcome in this city, and you are not welcome near this coven." "And what does killing her do may I ask? I don't give a damn. It's this whole-" Lukas waved his hand as he tried to summon the phrase while he stole a glance and saw Nicolette had stilled, eyes still wide in terror. Interesting, he thought, getting a bit sidetracked. "Tainted idea. That's it! That I have somehow tainted your precious witch and now you slaughter her for what? To cleanse the coven? And you call me sick."

Lukas grabbed his coat off the back of the chair like he meant to if him and Nicolette were to go out. Sliding it on, he picked up the half eaten piece of toast he had abandoned and left there on the counter.

"The river walk is supposed to be beautiful today," he mused casually, a smile gracing his lips as he ever so calmly walked out of the apartment, down the steps, and out into the French Quarter. 

He was only a block down when he grabbed a gentleman who was trying to enter a store. His objections were halted as Lukas stared into his eyes.

"First person you see, you use that umbrella there and you beat them to death do you understand? Go."

Lukas released the man, continuing on his way as a scream echoed behind him. He did not like being bested. Not one bit. You did not one up Lukas Blackwell and not expect him to do one better. He grabbed several more on his way, creating chaos and blood shed in the quarter as he walked on.

"Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun. Here comes the sun, and I say it's all right," he sang under his breath, beaming as he walked in the chaos.

Once he reached the end of the street, Lukas compelled another to find him a seat. Some older chair from within a shop it was and it was plopped in the middle of the street while around him the men and woman of New Orleans ripped each other to shreds.

The building wasn’t exactly high class sophistication, but it was serving its purpose. A table was centered to the room with only a few chairs in place and the blinds pulled. Othello and another bodyguard stood nearest the doors as a safety percussion. Every once in a while they would chime in with their own input on how matters should be handled, but it was ultimately up to Juno. “We’re going to need to get this wrapped up soon,” Othello mentioned, pulling back the blinds to get a peek outside. It looked strangely busy for this time of day.

While the group continued to discuss, he kept his eyes on the street. It was the only way he was an eye witness to one of the soldiers gunning down a man in cold blood. “Shit.” Nudging the man beside him, he indicated the window and both quickly made the call to end it. Walking over to Juno, Othello gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, we have to get you somewhere safe.” His words were nearly silenced by the sound of another round of gunshots close by.