#xcapereality

The air inside the bar was a strange kind of heavy—sweet with absinthe and cigarette smoke, pulsing low with something orchestral and dark. Patrick had come for the quiet chaos of it, the way the crimson light slipped over glass and reflection like blood on marble. He nursed his drink, absently tracing the condensation, eyes half-lidded and expression unreadable.

That’s when he saw him.

Louis. Or at least, that’s what the bartender called him—smooth, deep tone, as if the name itself had weight. He stood out even in the dim, like someone carved out of a different century. The kind of presence that made people either stare too long or look away too quickly.

Patrick’s lips curved slightly, the ghost of a smirk. “You don’t look like you belong here,” he said when their eyes finally met. His voice was quiet but carried—measured, clean, deliberate. “Or maybe that’s the point.”

@xcapereality

Elektra didn’t know how much time she had. The Hand - and by now, likely the Chaste as well - knew she was in the country. And when it came to the latter, Stick would know why she’d come. But at the same time, she was willing to risk it. Because she remembered Matthew asking her about the ten years they spent apart, and how she felt alone, and she didn’t want that for him. Which didn’t mean he didn’t have people that cared for him, she knew that he did; he was probably out with them now. However, she needed him to know - in her own, very distinct way - that she was one of them.

So she set up his birthday presents before making her way up the stairs and sitting at the top of them. She’d stay for as long as she could, for as long as she believed that both she and Matthew would be safe, and then she’d take off. She wanted to see him, to celebrate with him if possible, but if not, at least he would know that she tried. Looking down at her watch, she was just about to stand up to leave when the door unlocked. She didn’t move, a small smirk tugging at her lips as he took in the presents that she left him. The expensive wine. The German beer that tasted like piss. The orchid - a sure sign that the present was from her. And a hello seemingly spoken to the darkness, to someone he wished was here, which had her replying, “All right, then. Hello, Matthew.”

@xcapereality

Daniel had been their introduction. Daniel Molloy was an asset to the Talamasca. He interviewed vampires and other beings that were not fully human. These interviews were turned over to the Talamasca. Some made into books. Others kept hidden in the library. When Daniel had discovered that Nicolas de Lenfent had been reborn and was a son of two of the leaders of the Talamasca, it was only natural that he connect Nicky with Louis. After all, they were both famous exes for Lestat. One from his book, the other from more mainstream media as a metal and rock musician.

The modern age was great for Nicky. He dressed in the alternative and nearly goth style. He was covered in tattoos that held deep meaning to him. He had mastered many instruments and had turned his voice into an instrument that he used to entrance countless fans. He had better stats on Spotify than Lestat; something that had been known to irk Lestat when a question had been brought up by a Talamasca agent parading as a paparazzi.

This little fact pleased Nicky greatly.

But now he sat in a Japanese restaurant across from Louis himself. And while Nicky had just ordered food and drink, he was unsure if Louis would order to appear human.

When the waiter walked away, Nicky couldn't help but ask something.

"What — want me to read your damn mind, Red?" Frank can't help it but to huff the words out, shaking his head while he was at it before he brought his own glass up for a slow swig of dark liquid. It was true, this was a rare kinda night. No arguing just yet, no blood shed. Just two guys havin' a drink for once. Hell, he was almost waiting for the ice to crack, break out from underneath them and send them plunging into freezing waters.

Yet nothing happened, not yet. He wondered how long that would last. "Like you said — lotta things you want. I can make a list if you need. We'll be here all damn night if I do that, though."

(With a little shoutout to @fianchettoed bc I 💜 you 🏹)

Things had been easier when the only time Matt had to worry about getting into fights was when he chose to or when he put the Daredevil suit on. Unfortunately, with Fisk knowing who he was now and his new attempt at ridden Hell's Kitchen of all masked vigilantes - the chances of him getting into a fight where as likely in his every day clothes. Which was what happened the night before. Matt had managed to get the upper hand, but not without his fair share of broken bones, cuts, and bruises.

So when he heard a knock on the door and the familiar sound of Karen's heart beat - he knew he didn't have much choice but to allow her in. He rolled over on the floor; he must have passed out on the night before, with a groan - his hand instinctively moving to hold his rib before he used all the energy he could to call out to her. "You're going to have to use the spare key I gave you." Matt took a deep breath in. His rib was definitely fractured, but thankfully for his and Karen's sake it had managed to avoid pressing against his lungs.

She doesn’t have hypersonic hearing, but it’s obvious from Matt’s answer that “under the weather” would be an understatement to whatever she’s returning to. Karen leaned forward to rest her forehead against the door with a sigh, closing her eyes for a minute’s meditation. He really shouldn’t be going out in the open so much. Missing posters for Attorney Murdock — last seen talking a bullet for the mayor – were plastered everywhere, putting his civilian identity as high profile as Daredevil’s. It was easier for Karen to pull off a variety of wigs to keep her blonde hair from betraying her identity.

After unlocking the loft door, she set the groceries inside by the shoes. Just another day in the years of finding him on the floor. It didn’t help the apartment was sparse on furniture, but he sold everything in last year’s move to his now-decimated apartment, so a worn leather couch was no longer a comfortable option. Thanks to the unchanging illuminated billboard no one took up renting after Matt left, leaving it free as a hideout no one on the task force bothered to check. Yet.

Slender hands rested on her hips as she stood over him, the expression he couldn’t see conveyed in her tone. “I’d say there was a time when you were smarter than this, but I’m pretty sure there wasn’t.” Kneeling down, she folded her jacket into a square to carefully tuck under his head as a makeshift pillow.

Elliot was not particularly fond of the social season, and that distaste was only getting worse as he grew older. Just the knowledge that upon the morrow, he would be surrounded by smiling young women and their pushy parents had sent him from the family estate to the party he knew Henry would be holding. Thanks to the marriages of all of his sisters, he'd been able to avoid the social season the past few years under the excuse he wasn't yet looking for a wife... And then Ella had been widowed, and back to finding her a safe husband he went.

But not tonight.