#♕ＶＩＣＩ♕

[mcnecter]

@askjerrydandridge​

                         ( american cities held a special magic for the bride. unlike her home or those GREAT european metropoli, living centers in a country so YOUNG throbbed with life, with enterprise characteristic of its people. julia loved the RUTHLESSNESS of americans, desperation for their so-called dream making their blood POTENT unlike anything she had tasted in half a millennia. her favorite meals were, of course, young american men; VIRILE, rugged, with an arrogance only shared amongst mortal males. one of these SPECIMENS is who she seeks tonight, thirst burning DELICIOUSLY in her throat. search had led stiletto steps to stalk alleyways, side streets BUSTLING with nightlife in full swing. )

                         ( try as she might to blend in - wild curls loose, jacket shrugged away - PRETERNATURAL allure still draws attention. the bride is STRIKINGLY beautiful with OTHERWORLDLY sculpted features, pale, piercing gaze &. onyx waves. she cuts through the crowd like a cold KNIFE, seeking vantage point to observe mortals entirely absorbed with their FEEBLE lives. eventually she stops, leaning against electric lamppost, WATCHING crush of mortals with hungered fervor. )

                         ( she knows the mortals stare - they always do, &. she counted on it. but the gaze felt now … this was different, PENETRATING, the focused observation of one of her own KIND. julia attempts to ignore it, REDOUBLING her efforts to locate her dinner, but the sensation only INTENSIFIES &. crowd becomes an impressionist wash of color. when she finally addresses the other, ACCENTED lilt is short, clipped, &. OBSIDIAN hues upon meeting hazel contain no readable emotion. )

                         ‘ it’s rude to stare. ‘

[mcnecter]

@istigmatias​: [ PIN ]... it 'could' happen.

sexual tension. | accepting

                         ( ah, how vampyr has LONGED for this moment! knowing his true nature all along, it was VEXING to the fullest how diligently he hid it from her, from the WORLD until the last possible moment. her monster had DESIRED so desperately to know his - to see this mysterious other julia had only caught flashing GLIMPSES of, cast light on the shadow pacing behind his troubled stares. so the bride had been pushing, PUSHING, testing him with practiced centuries-old MACHINATIONS until finally he breaks. catching her by surprise is no small FEAT, yet suddenly wrists are pulled upward, LITHE form slammed into wall before retaliation is even a complete THOUGHT. laughter - full-bodied purr of a PREDATOR - bubbles from SMIRKING mouth, four pearly points glinting within maw. TRIUMPHANT glare holds his own gaze beneath temporary VEIL of mussed black curls. )

                         ‘ at last! the mask slips, vânător. finally … we are acquainted, your beast &. mine. ‘

                         ( preternatural muscle ripples beneath milky complexion, yet does not TENSE. perhaps he will soon realize she is simply ALLOWING this; strigoi can do more than return the favor at any point, pure ARROGANCE standing between her instinct to violently STRIKE back. tension is thick, palpable within little space between them. julia closes the GAP a little more - relaxed form leaning forward, noses almost touching. his breath is hot, HEAVY, while hers washes over michael’s features like BITING winter wind. accented lilt is now lower in volume yet still PROVOKING in speech. a tilt of dark head, smirk baring FANGS - i dare you, michael. )

                         ‘ go on … what are you made of? ‘

[mcnecter]

@crimsonsunsets​​: “Whose blood is that?” (from flynn!)

injuries | accepting.

                         ‘ how naive of you to assume i still bother with formalities such as names. ‘ 

                          ( goddess in all her SUBLIME celestial glory, unashamed in the aftermath. he finds her sprawled lazily on the ground, back against the wall gazing LANGUIDLY upon still heap of limbs sprawled across the ground. her VICTIM, whose blood now colors aquiline features with such ATTRACTIVE flush - indeed, while hot VIRILE life force of the male softens sharp PRETERNATURAL visage to seem almost human, the eerie temperament of strigoi is still evidenced, painted across full lips &. streaking down her chin. even now long, tapered fingers trail up, up, gathering still-wet remnants of victim splattered RED over milky complexion. onyx hues flutter shut as she tastes lazily, DREAMILY, shuddering as thirst begins to burn just so with renewed flavor. perhaps this was a little THEATER for the librarian - he had yet to witness fresh, BRUTAL death at the hands of her kind, especially from vampyrs as VIOLENT in the taking of their victims as the bride &. her master. still, though VISCOUS lifeblood stained her lips the scarlet AMBROSIA fills her with life, with YOUTH - without the COLD countenance normally displayed her human age was easier to witness. if not for SMUG, self-satisfied grin julia looked as MORTALLY, vulnerably beautiful as miss westenra. ) 

                         ( gaze opens, flickering to him, a deep, dark brown instead of empty STARLESS black. once she had been a girl, she had ALWAYS been soft, helpless, doomed to fade away &. die as was the natural order of things before marriage to her master. the difference is STRIKING though mortal beauty is now only a LURE, soon to fade to cold skin &. BESTIAL appearance until her next feeding. still she does not CONCEAL her true nature to mr. carsen, bloody grin bearing PEARLY fangs, stained claws pointing to corpse in faint DISGUST.  ) 

                         ‘ do not worry, bookkeeper - his blood told me he was an experienced killer himself, or as experienced as a mortal can be. besides, it is more than he deserved. death at our hands is painless, in the end. ‘

[mcnecter]

@wcrlds​

                         ‘ i - ... you - ... is this some kind of ... of joke, flynn?! ‘

                         ( fury is palpable, THICK &. hot as strigoi closes distance between them. accented lilt is further WEIGHED with ancient cadence, anger making it difficult to speak a DIALECT bookkeeper would understand. onyx hues flash, OUTRAGE burning hellfire in otherwise infinite black GLARE. energy is remarkable given current CONDITION - mere weeks had passed since violent passing of the master count &. she had sustained GRIEVOUS injuries. wounds, she had explained to then FRANTIC librarian, that would take longer to heal than most even with UNNATURAL restorative capability. remnants of dracula’s DEMISE; stained bandage about her throat partially hidden beneath inky curls, distinct sound of cotton shifting against gauze beneath her shirt. ) 

                         ( item in question is SLAMMED on table before him, already crumpled as if read a hundred times over. vampyr received UNASSUMING envelope in the mail earlier in the evening, watching with leaden DREAD as golden words ornamented themselves across cardstock. most living dead knew of librarians &. their unwavering GUARDIANS ... but she? the moral compass, eternal companion for her friend the bookkeeper? julia reacts, INSULTED at the very implication she was any sort of protector, rejecting the very NOTION she was any worthwhile mentor, PARTNER ... &. deep down, AFRAID she was both unworthy &. unable to protect the one person she had come to respect. ) 

                         ‘ you think you’re clever, sending me such a ... a ridiculous proposal! have you forgotten all i have taught you ... shown you! ‘ 

[mcnecter]

@istigmatias​: [ LICK ]

sexual tension. | accepting

                         ( it was hard to focus. both were wounded, but that wasn’t the PROBLEM. working side by side with michael had EXPOSED her to his frequent mortal damage, so that wasn’t it either. no … she realizes they had never been in such close PROXIMITY to each other whilst injured, the scent of him invading every cell. julia can feel it, smell it, TASTE it coating her tongue &. seeping through pores. the apartment - his, she thinks - &. its close walls seal them in together. ribcage THROBS faintly; a wound there, currently IGNORED, bleeds freely thick ancient ICHOR. soon skin &. muscle will knit itself back together as it as done COUNTLESS times … though ingestion of fresh blood quickens the process. )

                         ( onyx hues glance up from pristine IVORY of kitchen sink she leans heavily on, leaving CRIMSON smears behind. unblinking, eyes traverse his FLUSHED features - drawn brow, straight nose, curve of his lip. there … SWELLING cut on his bottom lip, lifeblood a brilliant VERMILLION. gums ache, throat burns with ever-consuming urge for even a TASTE. &. then, as she nearly loses herself to BLOODTHIRST, his tongue darts to sample COPPERY liquid. unintentional, perhaps, yet still her reaction is seen &. heard; a gasp, breath nearly STRANGLED in her throat, poorly concealed as a cough. tearing OBSIDIAN glare from him, fists clench against the counter, speech notably restrained. )

                         ‘ you need to dress your wounds. i will assist you. ‘

[mcnecter]

@istigmatias​: ❛  why  are  you  so  concerned  about  me ?  ❜

labyrinth. | accepting

                         ( inexplicable RAGE bubbles within her chest, familiar &. foreign all at once. surely he realizes how STUPID of an inquiry he has just stated, as if it weren’t OBVIOUS enough? or is her ire directed, inadvertently, at HERSELF - anger burning for ALLOWING even the most minute thread of emotion to be felt for a mortal, especially one with a profession as GHASTLY as his. outrage simmering just beneath GRIMACING features for permitting her sentiments to be read so easily, gut reaction to DISAPPEAR into the shadows - comfortable, safe, ALONE without the human’s prying gaze. )

                         ( vampyr rises abruptly, fists &. jaw CLENCHED. suddenly piercing ONYX hues narrow right on him, flash of FURY so potent it would have cut through him if it were a physical assault. stuttering words are hissed with palpable VENOM, but the anger is not necessarily directed at michael. )

                         ‘ i - michael, you - ‘

                         ( pure nonsense, only INCENSING her wrath. the bride steps quickly to a window, gaze TEARING from him in favor of studying the moon instead. silence passes heavily, NOTICEABLY, entire being muted. when accented lilt resurfaces usual calm barely RESTRAINS anger still teeming on the surface of speech. )

                         ‘ what good are you to me dead?! ‘