gui-duvalier

[gui-duvalier]

OPEN TO: Anyone

WHERE: The Broom Room

How he was supposed to wake up every morning and go about his day as if the Johnson farm massacre never happened was beyond Gui. It certainly was not his first experience with the undead, but spirits were far less terrifying than… Zombies. The thought kept him unsettled. The very idea that it had happened once and could happen again almost made him sick. But he would, for all intents and purposes, pretend like he was not bothered. Just like he always did. Guillaume sat at his table- the one in the corner of The Broom Room- with his cards and his crystals, and the perpetual whisper in his ear. There were no appointments as his business was barely legitimate, so he relied on word of mouth and the brazen nature of curious people. “Come in, come in.” He’d usher a patron once he’d heard soft steps gather from the other side of the curtain. “I won’t bite. But don’t let Violette catch you lurking. She does.”

[gui-duvalier]

[gui-duvalier]

OPEN TO: Anyone

WHERE: The Broom Room

How he was supposed to wake up every morning and go about his day as if the Johnson farm massacre never happened was beyond Gui. It certainly was not his first experience with the undead, but spirits were far less terrifying than... Zombies. The thought kept him unsettled. The very idea that it had happened once and could happen again almost made him sick. But he would, for all intents and purposes, pretend like he was unbothered. Just like he always did. Guillaume sat at his table- the one in the corner of The Broom Room- with his cards and his crystals, and the perpetual whisper in his ear. There were no appointments as his business was barely legitimate, so he relied on word of mouth and the brazen nature of curious people. "Come in, come in." He'd usher a patron once he'd heard soft steps gather from the other side of the curtain. "I won’t bite. But don't let Violette catch you lurking. She does."

[gui-duvalier]

Guillaume wasn't always the nervous type. He'd done well over the years fooling himself into thinking he was more confident, and alluring than he'd believed himself to be. But it was difficult to keep up with this facade when he was with Cecily. Not only was he worried about coming off like a total ass, but he didn't think she deserved whatever watered down version of him that he'd reserved for the general public. Tricking her into enjoying his company wasn't the angle from which he'd wanted to approach. "I would never." He'd exaggerate, though there was a considerable amount of truth to his words. "Have your snacks, and when you're done, I'll fetch you more." Gui laughed. "No promises that I won't skim from the top." Mahogany hues scanned the crowd idly, gaze drifting over faces that he'd recognized and many that he didn't. "Do you want a beer?" He pointed to one of the kegs nearby, red cups lining the table. "I don't drink... But I won't be offended." Guillaume grinned.

It was actually a good thing that Guillaume had sauntered into her store earlier that day and asked Cecily to go to the bonfire with him. If he hadn’t, there was a very good chance that she wouldn’t have attended at all, no matter how much Tiber or Shiloh or anyone else might have tried to convince her. The events of a small town grew boring after being unable to leave for so many years and considering the fact that many of said events ended badly, Cecily had been content to turn off all the lights in her too-big house, crawl into bed, and start catching up on her soaps (at least those shows went on forever). Who knew that all it would take to pull her out into public that night would be a handsome stranger drawling an invitation with a big, genuine grin?

So there she was, already halfway through a bag of popcorn that she’d snagged when they first arrived and strolling through the crowd by his side. “This actually…isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” she admitted, eyes taking in everything before them before focusing on Guillaume again. “Don’t judge me if I eat my way through this whole event.”

@gui-duvalier

[gui-duvalier]

endless moodboards // guillaume duvalier

𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢  𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱  𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯  𝔣𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢  𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔩𝔶

[gui-duvalier]

@tcylrevcns The Barn

Gui should have known something to this degree was going to happen, and it's impossible for him to fight the heavy sense of guilt that pools in the pit of his stomach. The spirits had been restless. They'd warned him not to come in that cryptic, terrifying way that they often had. But how could he have known? Furthermore, could he have done something to prevent the massacre from happening outside the barn at this very moment? He had no idea where Waylon was, and he'd gotten himself separated from Cecily. It wasn't necessarily panic that had begun to set in, but whatever this feeling was it was very far from calm. "Taylor." He spots her from across the dimly lit building, recognizing the golden undertones of her hair, and the perfect set of her posture. "Fuck, I'm glad you're here." Without warning he throws his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace, that allowed for some semblance of relief. "Actually I'd be much happier if you had not shown up, but at least you're alive. Are you hurt?"

[gui-duvalier]

This whole event had Gui on edge almost immediately. Once he’d stepped onto farmer Johnson’s land, he couldn’t quite explain why, but there was an overwhelming feeling of dread that settled somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Heavy like a stone, and equally as troubling. He’s done his best to push his disheveled thoughts to the back of his mind, hoping to discourage any further qualm by immersing himself in company. It didn’t take long for him to find a familiar face. There’s no chair for him, but that doesn’t matter. He plops himself down on the ground next to Romy, grass-stains be damned, sprawling to his heart's content. “Yes, of course they do.” Somehow he’s managed a bag of stale popcorn. It’s both terrible and appropriate. “I would have no desire to participate otherwise.” Mahogany hues flicker to the side, catching the blonde's gaze with a grin. “Admit it, you wouldn’t, either.”

WHEN: june 1, 2019 WHERE: harlan johnson’s cornfield OPEN TO: anyone !!!

Romy had settled in front of her car in a lawn chair, only half-heartedly watching the movie playing on the screen. She had had all intentions to watch it when she arrived, she really did, but she kept getting distracted. Her phone buzzed intermittently, and her attention drifted towards those around her. The cornfield was beginning to buzz with more and more people arriving and she couldn’t help but focus on them rather than the film. A loud noise drew her attention back to the screen and she wrinkled her nose when she realized she didn’t know what was happening anymore. It didn’t seem like too much of a loss, though. What she had seen of it, she didn’t particularly care for. Romy turned her head towards the closest person, calling out, “Do you think they intentionally tried to find the worst movie possible to play or do you think it just happened? I tried to like this but it’s really sort of terrible, don’t you think?” 

[gui-duvalier]

cecilyhale‌:

Emerald hues slid up to his face again as he spoke, connecting the accented words to the lips from which they came. A small smile spread across her own lips then and she placed the book down on the polished wooden countertop. “French, huh? Is this what the kids call a humble brag?” He seemed a bit nervous for some reason, so teasing him seemed like the only natural thing to do. “I know a bit myself, though I can’t say I’ve read an entire French novel in a while. Not even a classic.” Perhaps the idea of re-reading certain volumes felt tedious because Cecily could recall a time when these so-called classics were brand new. “Let me see what I can do.” Her laptop appeared from the drawer beneath the counter and she opened the lid, fingers quickly dancing across the keys as she searched the title.

“Oh really? Well there isn’t a Starbucks out back, unfortunately, so your options are a bit slim.” The words were sarcastic but her tone stayed playful, the only way she could really get away with consistently sassing people on a daily basis. She looked back up when he finished his question and nodded slowly. “Sure. It depends on what you’re into, really. What do you like?” It was a surprisingly intimate job that she had - the old shop wasn’t a Barnes and Noble where people roamed through aisles upon aisles without speaking a word to another person; Cecily learned more about people sitting behind that counter than she had in most other places she had been in her life. 

He'd laugh a little, awkwardly, not entirely out of the ordinary for Gui, but not exactly on brand, either. Moving through most of his life in a way that made him feel like an outcast had him coming to grips with his awkward demeanor early on— but those feelings never came from a place of bashfulness, or a lacking of surety. Not like they did now. Not only is this woman beautiful, but she has bite. Guillaume is way out of his league, and he knows it. "Not so much a brag as a profession. You wouldn't shame me for my hobbies would you, now?" A soft breath shook free from his chest, having been trapped for however long since he remembered to breathe. "You know..." A hand waves before his fingertips make their way to the counter top, tapping idly as he did his best to muster a look of consideration. "Everything." He grinned, "I wish I were joking. You should see my house. My uncle gets quite cross with my mess." By mess, of course, he'd been referring to the hoards of novels scattered across their shared living space. "I want to know what a quirky bookshop owner reads in her downtime." Gui allowed his smile to widen, genuine as it was, until it crinkled the edges of his eyes. "And, maybe, if she could pull herself away from it long enough to join me at the bonfire tonight?"

[gui-duvalier]

caitlynnoire‌:

The clouds up above and the sky were so beautiful. She hadn’t even noticed the direction it had taken her. Briefcase with the case files she had been studying were long forgotten as she swung it around humming merrily.  No known cares in the world. She had gotten orange juice earlier, so she felt fulfilled in that aspect. The day was just as lovely and she dreaded the thought of going back to work. It was good that she was the boss and could make the unrealistic decision to not return to work.

Instead she took a stroll around the park and found herself lost up in the clouds. Head tilted upward she hadn’t even realized that she had stepped into the sunlight until the voice alerted her of it. Caitlyn glanced down to Gui with a cheerful smile, “Hi!” She waved a bit too enthusiastically then blinked at him.  “Oh but there’s sunlight everywhere. It’s very pretty outside. Why are you grumpy? Is it because you need a suntan?” Caitlyn inquired innocently. 

Gui couldn't quite help the way his expression had scrambled, not entirely sure how to respond to the woman's enthusiasm. He supposed it could have been worse. She could have been an absolute nut. Although, that remained to be seen. "I'm not grumpy." Guillaume quipped, leaning his head back against the truck of the tree as he looked up to her. "I just want you to move." The man waved his hands over his notebook, now simmering in the shade. "Look how dull this shade of blood orange is now that you're blocking the light."

[gui-duvalier]

He wasn't even going to pretend like he couldn't hear her. The line was forming behind him, yeah, and it was definitely because this coffee shop didn't offer anything that he wanted. He'd taken a look at the menu before approaching the counter, only to be greeted by 'oh sorry, we're out' and 'apologies, the espresso machine is down'. Guillaume wasn't the type for yelling, or losing his temper in public. It was unbecoming, as his mama used to say. But this chick behind him, clearly fed up with the amount of time he was taking, made no point to hush her tone— instead thinking it more appropriate to run off at the mouth in public. Imagine. When finally he'd managed to wrangle a mocha macchiato out of the barista, Gui would turn on his heel and lean against the counter while he waited for his drink. "By all means, darlin'." Guillaume drawled, crossing his arms over one another, head lolled to the side in a sarcastic gesture. "Don't let me stand between you and your grand sacrifice to the java gods."

All she wanted was a drink. It wasn’t such a big demand had she not been stuck behind one of the most indecisive man around. Though, it became quite apparent that his intent was with the server rather than the idea of a drink. Turning to the person behind her, Skyler made no effort to conceal her words. “I swear to fucking god i’m going to hit him,” she said with an irritated roll of her eye. “I’ll even let you have a go — and we can then be each other’s alibi.” A little smirk played at her lips though she was surprisingly far from joking. He spoke once more and her form tensed. “You might have to hold me back.” 

[gui-duvalier]

[gui-duvalier]

have you tried yelling

i have no idea what youre referring to but of course ive tried yelling

[gui-duvalier]

me: [walks into a psychic’s shop and slams down my tarot cards] it’s time to duel

[gui-duvalier]

talisademirci‌:

Eyes fell on an all too similar jawline, features that mirrored one of her sommeliers although Talisa didn’t want to jump to conclusions so soon. Instead, her fingers brought her glass to her lips, gently curious as to what he had to say. Huh. A smirk tugged at the corners of lips at the world’s most eloquent response. Although she’s not one to blame someone getting lost in their thoughts at the club. It seemed to have that kind of effect, a cool breeze and lack of worries easing even the most stressed Blackvale had to offer. “I would definitely say lucky for you.” She teased, turning to attention to the nameless stranger. To be a Demirci threw an enormous amount of pressure on anyone’s shoulders. The average person would surely combust, but as it were, Talisa was far from average.

 There’s an air around him that’s recognizable as if it was sitting on the tip of her tongue- maybe her day of business wasn’t quite over yet…“Do you?” Talisa grinned, hitching an eyebrow upwards. “Let’s see… I don’t think we’ve ever spent the night, so what’s left- drinks? A run in?” She’s going to be trouble one day… those words all but echoed throughout the Demirci villa the moment anyone caught sight of Talisa. And these days she was certainly living up to them, like an omen foreshadowing just who the witch regent was becoming. Nonetheless, in all the seriousness that her day-to-day life required, she could enjoy a little breath of fresh air such as this. “Too much- my family are lifelong members. It’s like a second home.” She nodded in response, eyes briefly looking him over. “So if you’re a regular that might just explain the familiarity… not a very exciting reason, I’m afraid.” 

Guillaume nodded effortlessly, elbow leaning against the top of the bar as he turned his attention to the woman almost wholly. He'd done his best to keep the air of distraction from his features, always having to work harder to tune out the things that went on around him. He'd like to think that it wasn't obvious, but could never say for sure. After all, he wasn't interacting with himself. It seemed that she wasn't sure how to help him place her, and Gui might be a bit of a secret romantic- but he certainly never forgot any man or woman he'd spent the night with. No, it wasn't that, and he shook his head just as the bartender came around to deliver another glass of amber colored ale. "You know, that's probably it." His finger traced idly around the rim of the glass, "The regular thing. 'Fraid I spend more time here than I care to admit." He'd given the confession a thought before the rest of it slipped his lips, "My uncle lives just up the way." Gui pointed a finger lazily over his shoulder before he'd allow his wrist to rest against his collar. The man cracked a grin once again, eyes widening in amusement as mahogany hues flickered from her drink to her own bright pools. "That's just fine, my dear." He'd muse, "We'll have plenty of opportunities to make things more exciting." Gui grasped at the glass, lifting it nearly to his lips, but gave a slight pause, "We can start with your name." And then he took a long pull.

[gui-duvalier]

brookemxrshall‌:

It was uncommon that the detective got a day off let alone, remained successful in doing everything but looking over her cases and reverting back to her work. And yet somehow she had managed to do just that, it was a small victory but a victory nonetheless.  Ending the day with her usual afternoon run she found herself pushing harder than usual, as she came to finish up her final lap of the park. Breathing hard she stopped a moment to down the last of her water, completely unaware she was extinguishing the other’s precious light. 

“Well aren’t you just a pocket full of sunshine. Who the hell pissed in your bitch-flakes?“ Brooke drawled, wiping the sweat from her brow before she straightened up, shoulders rolling back as she tossed the now empty plastic water bottle into a nearby bin. Only then did she take a step forward, allowing the other to be bathed in the afternoon sun once more. 

Gui closed the front of his notebook, pencils sat idly inside working as a makeshift bookmark. The man allowed his fingers to then tangle together, resting idly atop his lap while he crossed one leg over the other. There were soft crinkles around his eyes, almost as though he'd been smiling, but evidence of such remained devoid from the remainder of his expression. "You might be a bit sassy too if the wee hours of waning light were interrupted every three seconds by." Gui shrugged his shoulders as though it were the most simple of explanations. "Yeah, sure, I get it, it's a public park." A soft jerk of his head exaggerated his lack of care. "It's not my fault they won't move that blasted bin, and this just happens to be the spot with the best lighting." A soft hum vibrates against his throat, consideration for the faintest of whispers that dances across the very top of his audio sensory. The very backs of his teeth grind lightly in response, "But... I suppose that's not your fault."

[gui-duvalier]

cecilyhale‌:

Hodgkins and Figgs had been a sanctuary for Cecily from the moment she first stepped through its doors over a century earlier. Mr. Hodgkins and Mr. Figgs themselves had greeted her at the door of their seldom-frequented shop, ecstatic to see a customer coming to browse through their selection. The were taken with the young woman without a family or a path, and though it wasn’t very common at the time, the aging gentlemen offered her an apprenticeship with them. Cecily had been happy to find a purpose after flitting from town to town for years, avoiding getting too attached to any people or places because she knew that she would eventually have to leave. In Blackvale, however, she didn’t have to worry about that. Because she couldn’t leave.

As the years went on, Cecily worked alongside the store owners and made changes to the business as she saw fit, as they eventually gave her free reign. It wasn’t long before the store became a popular spot in the neighborhood and book were quite literally flying off the shelves. As was commonplace in Cecily’s life, however, she would outlive dear Hodgkins and Figgs by many, many years; they left the store to her in their wills, and tears had actually pricked at the corners of her eyes the first day she walked into the store whose deed now bore her name.It was still doing well years later - not quite as popular as it was before the advent  of modern technology, but still well enough that Cecily didn’t have to worry. Perhaps the best choice she ever made was creating a dedicated fantasy section, both so the supernatural could learn more about themselves and so children could delight in the stories. 

Her favorite time of day to sit at the counter in the shop was when the sun was setting; the front windows received the afternoon light and it cast a calming glow over the shelves. This late afternoon, the bell chimed to indicate that someone had come through the front door. Cecily didn’t pay it any mind - people didn’t like it when a storeowner bothered them while they were browsing - and only looked up from her own book when the man approached the counter. She was a bit taken aback by the smile that spread so easily over his lips, and her glance lingered on his face for just a moment before shifting to the book in question. “I don’t know if it’s still in print,” she returned, nose scrunching slightly as she took the book from him and read the title and author. “But I could always look into it for you, if you’d like.”

Gui watched carefully as she grabbed at the book, inspecting it closer in an attempt to address his query. A soft roll of his shoulders and a clearing of his throat lessened the grin that had overtaken his visage. Perhaps, he thought, it might bode him well to come across a little less stalker-ish. "Of course it's in print, darlin'." Gui drawls, taking a step closer to the counter, elbow pressing against it's top as he leaned his weight against it. "That there's a classic. Translates well, too. French version is almost a different novel in its entirety— though equally as exciting." He'd wave a hand, perhaps meant for himself, in an attempt to keep from oversharing. Guillaume had a tendency to become excited. Not everyone handled that well. "That's not the only reason I'm here." He blinked a few times, rapidly, slowly swallowing a lump that had began to form in his throat. It'd be easy, surely, to just ask the girl for her number. Give her a call. Ask her on a date. But Gui, boy, did Guillaume have a hard time with people. "I, uh- wondered if you had any recommendations of your own?"

Smooth.

[gui-duvalier]

The benches at Phoenix Park were hard and cold. Guillaume didn't like the way the iron pressed into his body— harsh and unforgiving. He preferred the sun to the shade as well. Enjoyed the warmth far more than he'd liked the cold, if only because it reminded him that he was alive, despite the... Company he kept. He'd taken respite against one of the only trees in the square, it's large trunk providing a place for him to lean. The small backpack on the ground housed the same tarot cards that he'd brought with him almost everywhere and, of course, his phone and a snack. On his lap was a small journal filled with many blank spaces, and at his side a small selection of colored pencils. He'd been happy doodling along- a montage of things he heard and things he saw- until someone stepped into his light, blocking out the sun up ahead. "Do you mind?" He'd craned his neck to look up at the figure, "You're kind of blocking the light." Except it sounded a whole lot more like; get the fuck out of the way.