#vampyrictouch

Across Baulders Gate, receiving an invitation to the Black Swan Theater was a sign of prestige, to enjoy performances that left it’s viewers often breathless with excitement at the marvel of magic and skill by it’s reclusive owners - tonight had been no different and yet so wonderfully unique it had the after party buzzing. 

Onyx moved from group to group, a beautiful face and a charming tongue dressed in a slender gold dress of golden scale that glittered in the light, a champagne flute in hand till she found herself outside on one of the many balconys to enjoy the evening skyline in a moment of quiet.  Her part of the act was the ‘damsel’, the maiden taken by the dragon - apart of his vast horde...  But the twist had been coming to care for the dragon, so much that when the prince came - Onyx’s role ended to story by slaying the knight to protect him. Dancer and gymnast, spinning in dresses different shades each scene till she was adorned in the same colored she wore now. Same as the dragon in the end. Someone letting the noise of the party drift out was the only alert she had to someone joining her, and she does turns - offering a practiced and polite greeting. 

“Good evening, I hope the performance was to your liking...?”

@vampyrictouch​ ━ ❧ ❛ I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal. ❜ ( accepting )

“ And what were you ? “

@vampyrictouch​​  cast  sending  : ❛  don’t get attached.  ❜

It had been a problem for days, something had been killing her catches and breaking her traps to get to them. It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that it was something a little more intelligent then your average beast…

So, with some observations, and a little bit of craftiness - she set her animal companion in a trap, a little white, spotted goat - Chewy, who waited until the dwarven ranger hid away under the spell of pass without a trace.

Then she waits, her companion baying into the early morning, trying to break free of the snare. Making a real good show if it too.

(   write a headcanon about it   )    @vampyrictouch​    :    hc + makeup! is there a product she favours above all? and i think i remember the game saying her lipstick is either rare or valuable: of what she owns, are they typically valuable/rare?

all her toiletries are customized not only to fit her size but also her extravagant standards. her makeup can be defined by the styles of the 50s, hence her infatuation with red lipsticks, pan cake powder and eyeliner. her lipstick is the exact shade as blood and blends in seamlessly with any blotches of blood that remain on her face after a kill. [ which is very rare because she is organized and clean. ]  

if you've seen a closeup of alcina's skin you know that it's caked in foundation to cover up any imperfections and scars, and alcina's daughters are the only ones who are permitted to see her without it. if you are a random stranger walking into castle dimitrescu BY ACCIDENT, you will never see her without makeup or without her hat. she is meticulous about her outer appearance and spends approximately two hours getting ready.

@vampyrictouch  :   ‘ it’s not murder if they deserved it, right? ’

a smirk lifts the corner of his lips , breaking the porcelain stillness of his stature .  “  is that how you would like to justify it  ?  ”  oh to still be able to appeal to one’s humanity , even in death  --  how long had it been since he had lost his own  ?  it matters not at the current hour . here he is presented with an unruly spawn , free from his master’s control yet still so distinctly human in his thoughts . how disappointing , truly . his eyes fall to the still warm body , approaching slowly as the heels of his boots tap against the marble floor . truthfully he cares little for the nobles in charge of this place  --  corrupt as they may be , he had rather enjoyed watching their little soirées from time to time . but just what might have compelled the young vampire to slay one of them , he didn’t care to ask . 

a single hand raises to the corpse between them , veins glowing a deep red as he channels the spell  :  from the body before them , a single string - like line of blood begins to lift according to alejandro’s movements , dancing in the air between them like a leaf battling the wind . too eager to show off his mastery of hemomancy , alec’s eyes snap to meet astarion’s own  ;  “  it all ends up the same , but you know this , don’t you  ?  guilty , innocent  --  does it matter when we require it to survive  ?  ”  he spirals the flow of the sanguine ribbon closer to astarion , letting it dance and weave around his bust .  “  reason as you will , astarion . one day you will learn that it matters not . murder is murder , after all , no matter how you try to spin it . why not embrace what you are  ?  ”

“Bit dark to be roaming around, isn’t it?”

There’s an appropriate saying for this. Pot. Kettle. Black. But as far as she’s concerned it’s a religious vocation, to the roam the night looking for peace. As opposed to looking for monsters and creepy crawlies and all those lovely things. Or trouble. People at night seemed to only be up to trouble or running from something these days...