𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑬𝑳 𝑴𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑶𝒀.

His hands impossibly eager to reach out and touch, feel the blood throbbing beneath mortal veins warm his ancient cold hands, he busied himself making notes in the script he had discarded earlier. A variation of what they had staged night in, night out at the Théâtre des Vampires, keeping some of the avantguarde stylings of the early 20th century that Armand had so cherished while adapting the content for present-day audiences. Projections had been refined, all the while retaining their old-fashioned charm. Stories had been changed accordingly, the tale of Baby Lou Lou scrapped entirely, though a hidden and twisted masochistic part within Armand had considered leaving it in. What was it that had Claudia written in one of her earlier diaries - 'we keep the damage, so we never forget the damage'. Perhaps he'd forgotten too much of the damage already, discarded it so easily in passing. Perhaps it was a symptom of half a millenia of immortality.

Could he pinpoint the exact date he had lost the last shroud of his humanity ? When he had surrendered entirely to his devilish nature, turning himself over to the evil he had always suspected lurked deep within ? Armand shifted in his seat, momentarily plagued by the one mortal memory he had disclosed to Daniel. A young boy, entirely too young, chased down through the streets of Delhi. He swallowed. The actor that had taken over the role of Santiago here attached his faux rope and floated upwards, stopping briefly to sit on the banister in front of them. Copying the former coven member's action of pressing two fingers to his own lips and then to a spot somewhere dangerously close to Armand's lips before he floated away again. Armand tilted his head to the side, smiled briefly, and wondered if every actor he employed for this part would kiss him at the beginning of the play. He had never written it in the margins of the script, always an improvised choice.

Once he was done soaking up that crumb of feigned affection Armand settled back in his chair, expression unreadable, allowing the magnetic pull of Daniel to entrance him for the remainder of the evening. Through the skits and stories he kept careful watch of his companion and the stage alike, watching with heightened interest as the climax of the night played out. Woodcutter. Another slight variation, for there was no unwilling victim dragged on stage but a volunteer from the crowd. A volunteer that had been sourced before and compelled to volunteer, yes, but it made for a rather compelling moment, even if the effect was illusion only. The illusion that the audience had a choice and could participate. His hands cramped ever so slightly as not-Santiago convinced the victim of an easeful death and, finally, sank his fangs into her. All through the curtain call Armand held his breath, not daring to look into Daniel's thoughts, wondering if he had caught on. If this had rattled loose some of those memories buried deep in his subconcious.

The spotlight flicked on, and an actor tethered to a rope was hoisted into the air slowly, gracefully. He moved over to their box, and Daniel's eyes widened as he kissed his fingertips and reached out, and instantly, all of his plans to not look at Armand vanished. He watched the guy reach out his fingers and hover them close to Armand's lips, and Daniel felt a heady rush of dizzying jealousy. It hit him with such force that he gripped the arms of his chair tightly, because all he wanted to do was jump up and punch this guy right in the face. It was stupid and petty and childish, but he could imagine doing it so freaking clearly, just grabbing him by the lapels of his stupid blazer and hitting him. Okay, man, chill out. It's part of the show. He knew that, distantly, in reality, but reality felt very far away right then. Like the whole world was this box, this theatre, this stranger he trusted implicitly, who seemed totally out of it himself.

The actor was pulled away by the rope, and he descended back onto the stage. Everything you are about to see is real, he said quietly, but Daniel could still hear him — his upper-class British accent travelled easily across the silent theatre. He had the audience eating out the palm of his hand in seconds, and Daniel could see why. This guy was good. He had the charm of a washed-up Shakespearean actor, and he delivered his speech with a kind of glee that totally worked for the vibe of what he was doing, sort of like Vincent Price in a Hammer Horror movie. Daniel smiled to himself, and settled into his chair, waiting for the show to begin.

What followed was the most psychedelic shit he'd ever seen, and he'd seen Suspiria twice in theatres. But, man, Armand hadn't been kidding when he'd said this was avant-garde. Its whole shtick was 1920s cinema, with sepia projections moving stiltedly against the backdrop, and skits and honky-tonk music. Some of it was actually funny, and Daniel found himself genuinely forgetting about Armand's eerie, quiet, still, presence next to him, and laughing out loud. He relaxed into the chair, let himself loosen up, and just enjoyed the craziness of what he was seeing. He forgot about Armand, and the weirdness, and the stress, and just lost himself in the show.

Until they called for a volunteer. Daniel didn't wanna put himself forward — it would've been stupid to give himself more chances to screw up in front of Armand — but he leaned forward with interest when a woman in the audience raised her hand. She was called upon, and walked up onto the stage, and the actor who'd opened the show started talking to her. His voice was soft, quiet, gentle. He put his hand on her arm, and she looked at him with wide eyes, like a deer.

Daniel didn't realised he'd leaned forwards until he felt his elbows rest on his knees, but suddenly, he was sitting forward, his neck craned to see. An easeful death, the actor murmured. Daniel felt the breath go out of him. Rest, now, rest — he thought he heard Armand say, in his lilting, soft, sing-song, voice, but he didn't want to turn around and look at him, because he couldn't move — because he couldn't move his body, he was totally still in that chair, staring into space, and he was next to Armand — no, he was opposite Armand, and it was dark, and he could feel a damp cloth wiping his neck slowly, lovingly, and it was the most frightening sensation he'd ever felt. I've been calling to you for some time. Daniel felt his body tremble. I am the quiet you've been longing for — But he hadn't longed for any quiet. He'd just been screwing around, man, he was in his 20s and it was the 70s, and everyone fucking messed around with drugs, he didn't wanna die, he'd just wanted to get high and have sex and a good time, but, man, he wanted to live —

Shit — he was here, in this theatre, on this weird date interview thing. He was here. But there was something else, something else. The actor sank his fangs into the woman's neck, and Daniel closed his eyes and lowered his head, shivering like he needed a fix, like this was so bad. He could feel it, the way the woman felt. The sensation of two sharp pinpricks piercing his throat, breaking the skin, but he wasn't frightened. He was ecstatic, trembling, turning his throat to the side. But he'd fought Louis, he'd struggled and pushed and shouted, and Louis hadn't bitten him like he could have sworn he remembered being bitten. Louis hadn't slowly, tenderly, sank his fangs into Daniel's throat. He'd ripped and torn and it had been agony — terrifying, animalistic, primal, agony. This wasn't that. Daniel felt held, trusting, willing, desperate, grateful. The feelings were overwhelming. He felt dizzy, and he leaned his head forward like he was going to faint.

But then Armand was there. Armand stood up, and held out his hand out, and Daniel looked up at him, blinking. The theatre. He was here at the theatre, with Armand. What the fuck just happened? His heart was racing, and he looked at Armand's outstretched hand, with his perfectly manicured, pointed, nails. He was offering his hand like a prince in a kid's fairytale, and the sheer, disorientating, panic melted away instantly. A drink, yes? As you have promised. Is there an establishment you prefer? Armand smiled, and he was so unbelievably beautiful, standing there over him, that Daniel could only smile back, weakly. Whatever the hell had just happened, it didn't matter. He was here now, and he wanted to go for a drink. He needed to go for a freaking drink.

Daniel took Armand's offered hand, and he was just as cold as he had been when he'd guided Daniel into the theatre. And again, Daniel felt the pull, the urge not to let go, but he forced himself to, and shoved his hands into the pockets of Klaus' father's suit. He realised Armand had asked him where he wanted to go, and he blinked. "Oh, well... we're near the Lamb and Flag," he replied. "I'm cool with going there. D'you know it? I tried to do a pub crawl of all the famous London pubs when I got here, but I didn't even get through half of them, man." He was rambling again, and he knew it. Christ, what the fuck was going on? But he couldn't stop.

Luke Brandon Field as Daniel Molloy 

Daniel hadn't expected that. She took him totally seriously, and he stared at her in surprise. He hadn't really talked about this shit with anyone. Sure, he talked to Klaus, but that was Klaus. He got it. But he'd never told a total stranger before. She sounded so sincere that he didn't know what to do, and he cleared his throat and shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he said, in a quieter tone. "I mean, yeah, it was totally crazy for a second there, but I... adjusted." After spending weeks on the streets, begging and stealing to get by, but he wasn't gonna mention that.

claudia was shocked that a human apparently 'knew' what she was. she cocked a brow at him. "if you know what i am? are you sure it's wise to be speaking to me in such a manner? i am not a kid. nor do i need your advice on what i wear. why hide what i am? i've managed this long without people questioning me." she wasn't impressed by the stranger's words. if anything? she was bored of him. claudia crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

"Oh, yes... I'm so well-adjusted." Klaus said with a near manic giggle, "That's what everyone says about me. Klaus Hargreeves; the most well-adjusted drug addict you'll ever meet. Oooh! It could be my slogan when I run for King of England. You'd vote for me, right?" His lips parted in a wide, bright smile before deciding. "I think Mars might be easier to get your head around." He shrugged his shoulders. "But, anytime Dan."

Klaus let out a soft sigh, leaning against his friend for the second time that night. Daniel didn't push him away, or shrug him off when he got too close. He simply allowed Klaus cuddle into him. He closed his eyes and relaxed for a while as Daniel stroked his hair. Instantly comforted by the sensation of it. He couldn't quite tell if it was the drugs or his new best friend that made him feel so fuzzy and warm, but it hardly mattered. He was just happy to be there in that moment with him.

The wistful mention of David pulled at his heart stings and he tried to swallow a sudden dryness that came over his throat. Thinking briefly to himself, just how fucked up it was that he didn't have that magical connection he had with Dave that he had with Ben. He couldn't simply summon the one person he loved more than himself, not even when he was sober. He must have moved on before he ever got to Klaus's timeline. Walked into some, silly bright light into the gates of heaven and left Klaus behind. Not knowing just how long it would take for him to follow. And now? Now he wasn't even sure death would reunite them. London didn't feel like the same world he left when the moon exploded.

Klaus laughed and nodded his head, "Emojis. Yeah man, get with the times!" He teased him shaking his head a bit. "Besides ladies not getting your lingo, has anything else been going on with you lately?" He said, wanting to talk about anything but himself all of a sudden.

He didn't mind Klaus calling him Dan — hell, Klaus was the only guy he'd probably let that slide with. He just smiled lazily as his friend rested his head on his chest, and stroked his hair absentmindedly. "Man, your hair's so soft," he murmured. "When you're king, you should issue a decree that everyone uses whatever shampoo you use, 'cause I'm jealous." This was the most laid back he'd felt in ages. Ever since all that shit with the Pedersons has kicked off, and he'd met Armand. Klaus hadn't asked how that went beyond initial curiosity, and Daniel was relieved. He didn't wanna talk about it. He wouldn't be able to, even if he tried. When he tried to remember being with Armand when he wasn't with him, it was like trying to remember being drunk when he was sober.

So, when Klaus asked if anything else had been going on, Daniel didn't talk about Armand. Instead he said, "Yeah, I've been doing this series of interviews with this family..." He trailed off, then gently nudged Klaus off him. "Wait, lemme show you —" He stood up, a little unsteady for a second, and walked over to his closet. He opened it and dragged out a cardboard box labelled PEDERSON STUFF, and opened it. It was full of tapes, each labelled with a name and date in black marker. He crouched beside it. "It's kinda surreal, and I know weird. I've seen some shit, man, but these people? Apparently, this guy — Finn Pederson — buried some chick alive in a coffin."

"IT WASN'T COMMON FOR ME, UNTIL I MET HER. I HADN'T EVEN REALLY BEEN IN A REAL RELATIONSHIP AND THEN.. SHE CAME ALONG AND CHANGED IT ALL." he had never expected that to happen with anyone. in fact, georgia had taken him completely by surprise and.. no, he wouldn't take any of it back. even with everything else? even with the heartbreak? even with all the secrets? he'd still go back to her every single time. he REALLY would. not that he had the courage to say that now, but.. he still felt the same way.

The interview swung back around to what Paul wanted the people to know, and Daniel mentally returned. He looked up and met Paul's gaze again. He wanted people to know he was just like them? That he would fight for them? Their struggles were his? Okay, fuck that. That was bullshit. He didn't care that this might tank the interview — probably his one freaking chance to talk to a politician like this, without PR people buzzing around. Hell, it was because this was his one chance that he had to do this.

"DON'T THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME, CHAMP. i read people for a living." edgar had no idea what it was that was happening right now and he didn't know why it seemed as if the other had so many questions but he didn't like that at all. in fact? he was annoyed and.. well, anyone looking at his expression would have been able to see that much. wouldn't they? raising an eyebrow and yes, it seemed as if the confusion continued. strange? yes, it was and what the fuck was this?

"I know your name, brother," Daniel replied with a cold smile. He could tell he was getting under this guy's skin, and it felt weirdly satisfying. This wasn't for an interview, or for anything, really. He was just pissed that this guy was screwing around with a lifestyle he totally didn't understand, just to sell shit.

"he buried her alive. in an actual coffin. and remained there and.. watched her die. stayed there until he didn't hear anything. he's an actually sick fucking bastard." if that much hadn't been made clear by what she had just said. right?

And so, he waited, and sure enough, she kept going. Pederson had buried his daughter alive. His own daughter. Daniel tried to let that sink in, tried to give a damn. Sometimes, the stories he heard fucked him up for weeks — the hit he'd heard was hardcore, especially when he'd done a series of interviews with 'Nam vets. So maybe he was just numb to it, or maybe it was how she was just pouring her freaking heart out, but he just took it all, all the emotional shit, and it didn't hurt to hear it.

"NO, I'M NOT.. I'M JUST.. A GUY WHO LOVES HIS FAMILY. THAT'S ALL." but the sadness and the heartbreak in his face at that could not have been mistaken for anything else was there and.. well, he would rather die than to let anyone in town know about georgia's secret. that wasn't going to HAPPEN, was it? no. no matter what happened? he loved her, he missed her and he would do whatever he could in order to keep her safe. he needed her. her kids needed her. right?

"they should. i've known heartbreak. i've known loss. i made my way up here from nothing and.. i recently found someone i loved more than anything. married her.. only to find out OTHER things." it hadn't changed how he felt about georgia. how much he loved her, but.. right now, he didn't know what he was supposed to do at all.

But something he said struck a nerve. Even if her secrets are horrible? I still love her. I still would do anything for her. Daniel blinked. He'd never been in love before — he didn't have time for it. Until he'd arrived here, he'd been itinerant, semi-homeless, wandering from place to place. He'd never had anyone, and he hadn't needed anyone. Right? But why did it feel like he got what Paul was saying? Like he understood loving someone, even if they'd done some crazy fucked up shit? He realised that Paul had finished talking, and he brought himself back to the interview.