#all. ezekiel urquhart

[counthakan]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart​ location: hakan’s castle note: dad i threw up

Hakan had been curious if his progeny was in good shape or not after everything that had happened at Mercuralia. The problem with worrying when it came to Ezekiel was that he never needed to go out of his way when he did so. The damn kid never really left him alone. Those labyrinths had been annoying and the Pluto vampire had been in a bit of a pissy mood ever since. He was really not sure why he was still upset, but he was sure it had something to do with the fact that he had felt so dreadfully human. Not having the power he had been relying on for several millennia was more of a problem than he would have liked it to be. He had gotten out like everyone else, but the reminder was still there that he could be in that position again if higher powers desired. That meant he wanted to leave Rome. However, that was easier said than done. He had people here he did not want to leave and he was sure Ezekiel was one of the people that wanted to stay. The Dracul would only do such a thing if his progeny asked. As he pushed open the lid to his coffin, he was met with said progeny’s face. “Ezekiel, you really have to stop doing that.”

[venusmagnus]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart​​

where: rhiannon’s house

Perhaps he shouldn’t have lingered. No matter what agreement they had come to, he wasn’t sure how things would stand between Rhiannon and him. Magnus wanted to pretend things would be fixed easily, but it was more likely that it just wouldn’t. Nevertheless, he had decided to stick around due to the very real fact that there was somebody else in the house with them. What were they even doing, vacuuming? The Venus vampire turned a corner only to see yet another vampire there. Cleaning. This man was cleaning. A brow rose as he sat down in one of the chairs, eyes laser focused on the other man. “I assume you know...Rhiannon?” He would have to get used to that name. Although it was very likely he would still be calling her Morrigan, he had learned to get used to her fake names by now. “Better question is why are you cleaning? You can’t possibly be the maid. You don’t even have the outfit on.”

[sumeyyezorlu]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart​

Honestly, Sümeyye was just trying not to run into anyone anymore. If she could run into a human or something that she could dig her nails into, it would be lucky for her. With all of the other vampires that were around, it was more difficult for someone as ravenous as she was to find anyone to drink from. It was even more difficult when she found someone and couldn’t sink her teeth into them. No, instead she just had to rip into their neck with her nails. Nobody was going to live, but she didn’t care. She rather liked being alive, or undead. All she had to do was not bump into another vampire yet again. Luck had never been on her side though. As soon as she saw Zeke, she was ready to turn the other way, but she decided against it. She was furious in general and he was the only person in sight that had contributed to ruining this night. “If I could, I would bite you my damn self, Zeke.” She stomped in his direction, a finger pointed at his chest. Then she looked into his eyes, a hand lifting to try and wipe blood off of her mouth. “Wait...are you okay?”

[hayliel]

Lamb for the weekend Bentley on the weekdays Give me sparkling cause I hate the way that still taste Only private flights cause I don't like my bags misplaced

@ezekielurquhart

[wardercloud]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart​

He was a vampire now, so it seemed. Cloud could remember when he was just a kid trying to slay a hellhound. Now he was something entirely different and they wondered how he had fared during, well, everything. There was a favor that was owed that they felt didn’t need to be cashed in yet, but there would come a time when it would be needed. The sound that came from the owl following them around distracted them for a moment before they settled back on Zeke. “You look like you’ve been through the ringer today.” They were sure they looked the same, but there was a lot that had happened in the past few hours that was cause for concern. Theneras’ display of loyalty to the fey being one of them. 

[sumeyyezorlu]

This party was certainly her kind of thing. Sumeyye loved to dress up no matter what it was for and that meant that she was going to take any opportunity she had to do so. If that meant going to the homecoming of Pluto himself, then she was damn sure going to do so. However, the last thing she ever expected was that she was going to be going into a pool of blood with the outfit that she had spent so much time picking out. Ezekiel was so lucky she liked him or she would've...Well, she wasn't sure what she would've done, but it wouldn't have been nice. Or maybe it would have been. Honestly, she was a lover, not a fighter. Albeit, a lover that was now covered in blood and she looked like a drowned rat considering the fur coat she had on. "Ezekiel!" As she resurfaced, she shook her head at him, but licked the blood off of her lips. "Oh, well, maybe this isn't so bad," she stated with a slight shrug before letting a small smile lift onto her lips. "What happened to the DJ-ing downstairs?"

@sumeyyezorlu location: Pluto Party notes: cannonball This party went crazy, Ezekiel had lost his fangs in someone hours ago - the diamond ones, not his real ones - and now the pool was looking better and better every second. A couple people had gotten pushed in, but from what the vampire could tell it was warm, it was real, and it was calling him. Because a jacket was quintessential attire at night, Ezekiel shrugged out of it and loosened a few of the buttons at the top of his shirt. "I'm doing it." He said as his grin spread, the burn at the back of his throat had gone dull a long time ago

Because he couldn't help himself, Ezekiel pulled Sumeyye along with him as he dragged the woman into the blood pool with him. For an extra splash, Ezekiel balled himself up as he hit the pool, emerging a few moments later - treading blood and completely drenched in it from head to toe. Blown pupils led to the whoop that fell from his lips, calling out into air as a wild grin met Sumeyye's. "This. Is. The. Best. Night. Ever."

[ciroocasio]

@counthakan location: Hakan's Christmas Bash notes: i do what i want

Maybe to those who didn't know him, this had generic Christmas party written all over it, but Ciro had watched Ezekiel grow up. He'd been made to listen as the annoying orphan prattled on about his dream party, how it'd include the biggest Christmas tree anyone had ever seen, and how everyone in the city would be invied. "Everyone?" the Crown would chide, then Ezekiel would just nod before the quiet judgement from the table silenced him. It wasn't as though Ciro didn't like him, but as a witch he hadn't respected him - Ezekiel was so different from the rest of them. Even when he was trying to blend in he shamelessly went against the grain, like it didn't matter, like centuries of tradition meant nothing. It was only in the months since Ciro had returned that he realized there was a part of him that envied the boy.

As Ciro had deduced, this statue of a man who'd remained perched at the head of it all was Ezekiel's sire. Grief was all the witch could see when he looked upon that silent stoicism, the outright refusal to partake or enjoy, yet he seemed to relish in the festivities all the same in his own way. A jacket that was too remarkable to be mistaken as anything but a possession of the boy who never knew when to scale something back. Had Ciro been a better teacher maybe all of this could have been avoided, but he'd failed Ezekiel, and where Ciro had failed, Hakan had succeeded. He'd reared the young vampire, inspired him, and steered him towards something promising.

Hakan had turned Ezekiel who had turned Marcella, a woman who was inherently tied to Ciro's destiny. The two men weren't connected by any means, not in any way that truly mattered, but connected they were just the same. Ezekiel had kept a room at the Amaranthus house, when he'd been turned his things had been packed away, when he'd returned they were put out again but among them Ciro had found some belongings that had mattered. There was a framed photo of Ezekiel in his youth, a big grin on his face even as he stood outside the orphanage. Letters that he'd exchanged with his living family in the states, one that he'd only uncovered in his middle to late teens. Despite the love his true family had offered him, Ezekiel was loyal to the Amaranthus: he chose the quiet discontent of the witches over the acceptance of human strangers because it was Neva who'd pulled him from the trenches.

It wouldn't have mattered to Ezekiel if Hakan had been cold, if he'd been cruel, if he'd been violent or mean. Hakan had saved him and in the young boy's eyes that lifted him into an unyielding faith. Loyalty and love that was worth more than gold. That was another quality that Ciro admired in the deceased vampire, because it was not one that Ciro had ever possessed. Among Ezekiel's things were an endless stream of designer clothes, Ciro might have sworn that the boy never wore anything more than once. Hedonistic and wasteful, the clothes were fit for donation... Some of them at least, Ciro would be lying if he said he hadn't kept a piece for sentimental purposes.

"I recovered his daylight ring, it's an Amaranthine signet." It had belonged to Ezekiel's father before him, and his father before him, and so on and so forth. The Urquharts had a very long, extensive line within the coven that went back over a thousand years, one that had seemingly ended with Ezekiel. As Ciro understood it Marcella had enchanted it for the boy when he was turned. "He would've wanted you to have it." Ciro extended the ring towards the vampire, "I have the rest of his things: photographs, scrapbooks, memorabilia, things like that. Should you ever wish to see them." He wouldn't take up any of the vampire's time, instead he left Hakan to continue his observation and his grief.

[senatushq]

NAME. Ezekiel “Zeke” Urquhart AGE & BIRTH DATE. 26  & August 11th, 1995 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Vampire COVEN. Amaranthus OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Cody Christian

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: neglect, violence )  Vague memories of Zeke’s past punctuated his formative years in childhood, he remembered a radio playing on the counter, and his mother’s laughter being light enough to carry them both through the air. His father wasn’t there, at least, not in this memory. He could also remember the car ride, the trip from some gathering through the rain that had his mother’s knuckles clenched white across the steering wheel. The rain was loud and the radio that was normally cranked up all the way was turned off so she could concentrate on the road, Zeke asked something, and she silenced him. Not in the tender way that a mother would shush an infant, but in the expedient, sharp way that drew the boy’s lips in a tight line as he saw the serious look in the woman’s eyes. 

The state hadn’t seen a storm like this in years, they’d be talking about it across Maine for at least a decade. The rain that had washed away power lines, homes, flooded basins and wiped roads off the map for weeks. A storm that left Zeke orphaned, the miraculous survivor of a car wreck that had taken his mother away from him. The system got him before any family could, or would for that matter, he never knew why but nobody ever came looking for him. Nobody really seemed to want him. Kids could be cruel and in the foster homes and group homes where Zeke spent his childhood that was no exception. They’d tell him that he was alone because the family he still had out there didn’t want him, that nobody wanted him, he should have known better, but years went by and eventually Zeke grew to believe them. 

Strange occurrences would happen around Zeke, when he’d get into arguments fires could start, in fits of tantrum rain could turn to sleet or hail. At nine years old things came to a head in the boys’ home he’d been relocated to. Labelled a troublemaker, a bad seed, the truth was that Zeke had no control over the things that were happening - all he wanted was to be left alone - and most of all, to find a home. Home came in the face of a marshal, a man of Rome who came to spirit the boy away entirely. With magic, the system took little convincing, and it was then that Zeke learned that his father had been an Amaranthus witch, a man travelling through Maine who’d met his mother one night at a bar. Experimentations in magic had ultimately taken his life, but it was through the Amaranthus’ investigation that they discovered the existence of the Roman bloodline. 

Not unlike his father, Zeke was prone to mistakes when it came to spellcraft. Delicate work was not his forte, as it turned out, even as a child he had a great abundance of magic - and in this abundance strange occurrences were common. The magic was a living force of its own, building up and releasing in odd ways through years of Zeke neglecting its practice. In Amaranthus he took to study, though his mind always returned to the mortal world, to a normal life where he could do the things that boys his age were supposed to be doing - playing sports and chasing after dates. Instead he was locked away in a library studying books he didn’t even know how to pronounce. Illusion was far too delicate for him, conjuration and alteration both required the sort of scientific approach that Zeke really couldn’t grasp. He never managed to summon a familiar and nobody trusted him to even attempt restoration on them. Destruction, however, the school of destruction was really the only branch of magic that Zeke excelled in. 

At eighteen he, like all other Amaranthus initiates, were made to venture into the Otherworld, to slay a hellhound and return with proof of their accomplishment. The Otherworld was more than a physical test, but one of emotional stability and mental acuity. Naturally, Zeke was lost for days - weeks even, possibly longer. Time was experienced differently in the realm that ran in between and as the world shifted about him, beasts of all kinds hunted him down. He managed to find his target and his way home because he accepted the aid of a creature native to this realm, a fey, whom he stupidly thanked and offered to return the favor if ever they needed. When Zeke returned, dead last, it was to the great surprise of the coven that he’d managed to return at all. Still, he took the mark of the Amaranthus proudly as something the young witch had earned. Those who he ascended next to said all that magic was wasted on him, that it must have been a fluke, but he pushed the whispers away because he’d made it.

Privately… magical study still wasn’t really his forte, but if he was going to remain among the coven he had to find his place there. Working with books and old magic required a delicate hand, that wasn’t something he had, but Zeke thought if he tried then it was something he could adapt to. While his native school of magic would always be in destruction, he slowly began to learn the art of restoration - though he’d focus more on objects than people. Through the coven he ascended, from acolyte to apprentice, and finally to adept - forcing his peers to recognize him. They still whispered that all that magic was wasted on him, that if he spent less time in the park playing American football with humans and more time studying, he’d be a better witch and maybe even a decent archivist. 

The more time he spent among the history of the Amaranthus, the more he wondered about his own family. About the woman whose laughter was light enough to lift an entire room, the people who never came looking for him after he died. At twenty-four his journey brought him home, to a reserve in Maine held by the Penobscot nation and to more family then he realized he had. It was then that he learned that they tried, that they fought for him, but the system just said no. For the first time he got to experience the mortal side that he’d been seeking out for years in parks and libraries and taverns of the human world. The sports he loved and why he loved them made sense when he got to experience them in the fields with his cousins and nephews and nieces. Still, Zeke had taken the mark, and he couldn’t remain away forever, eventually the archivist dispatched someone to bring him home and a short while later he was back in the hallowed halls of the Amaranthus. The dark kingdom of old magic and cold stone. 

A coven disappeared and while Zeke empathizes, he has started to wonder if Rome is truly the right place for him… Or if joining the sake of the Amaranthus for the sake of joining them was ultimately a mistake. What he really wants is to go to school, to study in the human world and in the magical world. Still, his destiny is already decided, he’s an Amaranthus, and that means greatness. 

PERSONALITY

+ willful, diligent, loyal – naïve, impatient, selfish

PLAYED BY SHANE. EST. He/Him.

[counthakan]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart​ location: casino arena note: “single” dad walks into a bar

This was uncomfortable. Highly uncomfortable. Hakan pulled down on the lever for the machine and lost even more money yet again. These things were rigged, he was sure of it. Maybe if he had not looked like a damn fool, he would be winning something. This look was okay for Ezekiel to wear, but he never wore things like this in the entirety of his three thousand plus years of life. There was a voice in the back of his head that told him it was probably best if he just ignored the clothing on his body and pretended he was just in one of his many suits. He had wished his progeny would even remotely let him wear at least the Gucci suit, but he was insistent upon the track suit. There was a very big difference and the difference was that these track suits were horrendous. Sneakers, too. There were sneakers on his feet. He did not wear those. Pulling down on the lever again, he watched as the symbols did not line up and he almost punched the damn machine. “This is fucking stupid,” he muttered under his breath, the only thing calming him down now being the presence of his progeny near him.

[counthakan]

“Nothing I’ve ever done has ever been good enough, you’re wrong: I have everything to prove.”

There was a hole in his chest where his heart should have been. It felt cold. Just like it had before. The only problem this time was the fact that, when he looked down, that dead organ was still in his chest. Yet the hole still remained. And it would not go away. Why did it not go away?

His hand grabbed at his chest. What he was looking for, he was not sure, but he did not let go until he was sure his heart was still there. Maybe it had all been some dream. Hakan had never had such a vivid imagination. That was more of Ezekiel's thing, was it not? Speaking of the little monster, he looked around the battlefield to see where his dear progeny could have gone. It would have been no surprise he was trying to save someone or be useful. That was just who Ezekiel was.

His gaze lifted from his chest again to where he spotted Ezekiel. Before he could even notice his own movements, he was making his way over towards the other vampire. Maybe he was hovering. Maybe he should have just trusted that Ezekiel was going to be okay. Maybe he should have just...been there.

"At least you showed up."

There was that hole in his chest again. It felt hollow. Empty. Before he could even get over to Ezekiel, his progeny had faded away. He blinked a few times. A hand gripped his chest again. A second passed. Maybe two. Hell, maybe it had been a few minutes or any hour, but the pain sat there in his chest. It would not go away. Why did it not go away?

"Ezekiel?"

The pain in his chest was evident enough, but he did not want to believe it. He did not want to believe that his dear progeny had done something that could...No. He would not believe that Ezekiel was gone. That was not what the younger vampire was fated for. No, he was supposed to live. That was what was supposed to happen. If anyone was supposed to die, it was supposed to be Hakan. Not Ezekiel. The elder vampire had lived his life. Nearly four thousand years of it. Ezekiel had barely scratched the surface. He could not be gone. He could not...

"Ezekiel?"

There was no response again. There was just that emptiness in his chest.

"Ezekiel?"

He had fallen to his knees, the hand that had been on his chest reaching towards the ground where it felt like there was just nothing but dust.

"Ezekiel?"

No, he was supposed to live. He was supposed to...

"Ezekiel, you are very funny."

But the hole in his chest told him that this was no joke.

"Ezekiel, I will put in the diamond fangs. You can come back now."

Why was his cheek wet? His hands lifted from the floor to his face and wiped at the wetness on his face. That was not supposed to happen. Why was that happening? None of this was supposed to be happening. None of it.

Hakan had flown away from the field in a murder of crows. Back to his castle. Back to his home. It was...empty. Just like his chest. Just like his dead heart that did not beat within it.

As he stood in the empty hall, his head tilted upwards towards the high ceilings. The quiet would have been unsettling, but it seemed to be fitting for how he felt right now. There was nothing within him.

He looked away towards the statues and art that littered the floors and walls of the castle. The few things that had not been touched in the short amount of time he had known his progeny. He looked away from them and in the direction of the wing of the castle that Ezekiel had made his own. Then he made his way there, his feet dragging him before his mind could decide against it.

The proper reaction would have been to accept the loss and move on. Grief was not something he had ever had to process. It was not something that was in his nature. There was static in his head though as he stepped foot in the wing that Ezekiel had inhabited. Static that had caused him to break whatever was in his line of sight.

A table. A chair. Glass housing various items that he was sure the younger vampire would have loved to stay intact. But there was nothing but static.

Not until he fell to his knees and a guttural scream fell from his lips and into the dead air around him. Then another one. And another one. It felt like he was screaming until his voice was raw and then he would scream again. Another guttural scream that held every emotion he had kept bottled within himself for so many years.

It should have been him.

"Come back. Come back. Come back."

He had not breathed in a long time, but a breath left his mouth as he did nothing but cry.

It should have been him.

The statue seemed fitting for Ezekiel. Hakan had the thought that his dear progeny would have liked it. He was not sure how long he had stood there, but he had left eventually. He had left to where the young vampire had been before death had taken him the first time.

That Amaranthus graveyard was not his home, but it had been Ezekiel's. A hand pressed to the top of the headstone as he stood in front of it.

"At least I showed up, right?"

He looked at the writing on the headstone again, his hand lifting away. Resting atop the stone were a pair of diamond fangs that Hakan smiled at for a moment before he flew away.

Ezekiel Christopher Urquhart August 11th 1995 - September 30th 2022 Beloved Son, Brother, and Witch I am not there, I did not die

[counthakan]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart location: base camp note: my son

Things certainly were not going to plan and Hakan could not have been more unsurprised by that fact. He had spent years upon years keeping to himself up in his castle and now all he had to show for it was this battle where they had severely overestimated themselves. Or maybe they just had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Either way, he was less than pleased with how things were going right now. Pluto was nowhere to be seen. The only thing he was for sure about was that Ezekiel and Salvador might be okay. Perhaps Cedric would be, too. He had not been able to catch up with any of them yet, but of course the first one he had decided to check up on was Ezekiel. When he got his progeny's attention, a hand dropped onto the man's shoulder. "I am proud of you, I hope you know that." Then he dropped his hand, eyes searching the area before settling back on Ezekiel. "Remi is okay, right? I am, uh, quite concerned about Gael right now."

[counthakan]

closed starter for @ezekielurquhart location: the castle note: *dad pose*

There were many things that Hakan did not like to involve himself with and the happenings around Rome were not one of them. He preferred to stick to his castle and only exit when he needed blood. When he wanted to hunt in the dead of night, that was when he let himself wander. And, in the wandering, he had been lost in his own thoughts for the first time in what felt like a long time. Still very aware of his surroundings, he had a sinking feeling go through him that nothing good could come from everything happening right now. Usually, that would make him ecstatic. Instead, he thought of Salvador. Second progeny and one he was sure would have his foot completely in this war that was happening. Then there was Ezekiel. Concern was the word he could use the most when it came to his most recent progeny. The younger vampire was entirely capable of whatever he wanted to do and that thought made Hakan wonder just exactly what Ezekiel had planned. It had him transforming into bats and making his way back to the castle and to the other’s wing. “Ezekiel.” He spoke quickly so that there was no room for the younger of the two to interrupt. “I would prefer if you did not involve yourself in this war that certainly does not concern you.” He paused. “You have nothing to prove to anyone.” That was not exactly what he expected himself to say, but it was what had come out anyway.

[counthakan]

Things such as hugs were not particularly something that Hakan often offered to others, but he always assumed he had a soft spot for Ezekiel. Well, it had become more than just an assumption and just a fact. There was a lot he would do for his progeny. The key word there was progeny. Singular. Because Salvador was now dead and Hakan just had to get over it enough to push through and fight alongside the rest of them. It certainly was not easy. The length of time it had been since he had turned Salvador was quite significant and the loss had hurt more than he realized. The pain had been unbearable, but there was something much deeper down that told him it was more than just that sire and progeny connection. He still cared for Salvador, but it was no surprise to anyone that the Dracul was horrible at showing things like sentiment. And now it was far too late.

He still had Ezekiel though. There was Remi and Marcella, too. Cedric. He did not want to think about the choices Pluto had made at the moment, but he guessed that his sire was still alive, too. That was good for now. If they all made it out of this with just one loss, then maybe Salvador's death would actually mean something. It had taken him a moment to return the hug that his one lone progeny had given to him though, but he still accomplished the task. Very difficultly.

"You do not ever need to worry about me. However, I would be a hypocrite if I told you that so...your worry is flattering." That seemed like the right thing to say, he guessed. Either way, he was sure that Ezekiel would appreciate the sentiment. Hakan fixed the Gucci track jacket on his frame as he let go of his progeny. It was not his first choice in attire, but there really was no way he was going to wear anything other than what Ezekiel told him to wear. And he absolutely was not going to wear armor. That just seemed unnecessary. Nevertheless, he looked towards the rest of the battlefield. This was certainly not what he had expected this year. "Of course. We have to make sure you both get to that wedding, right? And Gael..."

It seemed, just as he had spoken that damn human's name, he had been caught off guard. Perhaps it was fitting though. That cold, dead heart that had been in his chest was no longer beating, but it was no longer in his body. That much he could certainly tell. It took him a mere second to look down and notice the hole there. Who the hell had decided to rip his heart from his chest just that quickly? But he could only think that it was all too fitting. The one person he had blatantly stated he cared for in this life and he would die in front of him. It was just too damn fitting. Had he not told the younger vampire to be careful? Why did he have to die like this? It was so stupid. He had hoped that he would have just desiccated at some point. Maybe it would be in the privacy of his castle. Life was not kind to those that did not deserve it though. And he certainly did not deserve a kind death after the wretched undead life he had lived. Still, there was one word that left his mouth as he crumbled to the floor and looked at his progeny.

"Ezekiel..."

@counthakan location: Rome's Ruins notes: here comes the pain

Marcella was okay, Hakan- Remi, Ezekiel had to find them. From his vantage point he surveyed what he could, the tower had fallen and he could see a battle taking place. Even in the midst of all this chaos there were people still fighting, bursts of flames, magic of all kinds, but Ezekiel couldn't afford to get involved in any of it not right now. Just as he'd done every hour on the hour since last night, Ezekiel brought his hand up to the raven skull that hung around his neck. He'd never told Rhiannon that he had picked ravens specifically because of her. She's fine. She's not the type to go down in the first quarter.

"Hakan!" Ezekiel called out from his place atop one of the ruined buildings, it looked like it might have been a condo tower at some point, or- actually he didn't know. The whole landscape was ruined. His senses were all out of whack and markers were things like: the broken compro sign, the levelled spire from that drows' flying city, and what might have been the forum at one point. Far below he spotted a familiar trench coat, Gucci.

A murder of crows materialized beside his sire before Ezekiel flung his arms around him. "Fuck I was so worried." The progeny said to his sire, Hakan's presence was always comforting, that was a virtue of their bond, but Ezekiel had felt like it was more. He'd said it already, the younger of the two had never had a dad, so maybe this was what it was meant to feel like. "Can you help me look for Remi? I found Marcella already she's good- damn we should see if Gael's okay too, can you sense him?"

[ezekielurquhart]

@marcellabelanades location: that cemetery again notes: RIP

This wasn't going to be like last time. Marcella wasn't going to show up at his door half dead like Remi did, prepared only when his life was on the line to take the plunge. Ezekiel was young, and maybe he'd someday come to regret siring vampires when he'd only been one for a year himself. But this wasn't so much about him as it was his friend, they were going to spend eternity together, one way or another. Ezekiel was ready for that if Marcella was.

There was blood, a few glasses for aesthetic, several bags at the ready to be practical. Synthetic to start, then there was bonafide universal donor human to take the last of the edge off. It helped having friends in the city, Ezekiel had grown up here, and he'd spent the last year trying to make the most out of those connects. He wondered if she knew their death day was the same, if that had been part of her plan all along, Ezekiel had gone first, and now she would follow. Not like him though, never quite like him. This was a choice that Marcella was making for herself.

Candles littered the graveyard, incense burned lavender and lilac as the fall breeze caused the flames to flicker. Their shadows cast across gravestones, big names he remembered, others that were inconsequential. Each of them were shooting stars. Two stood above the others, the first of which read:

Ezekiel Christopher Urquhart August 11th 1995 - September 30th 2022 Beloved Son, Brother, and Witch I am not there, I did not die

Beside it sat another now, newly commissioned:

Marcella Astrid Belanades November 17th 1995 - September 30th 2023 Beloved Daughter, Sister, Witch, and Friend Do not stand by my grave and weep

He'd agonized over the daughter part, he knew Marcella's relationship with her mother wasn't great, but her aunt had loved her in her own way. Neva too, no doubt, and there was something to be said about found family. Rose petals littered the area, a gentle bed had been made, Ezekiel's blood waiting in a goblet, his own hands prepared to snap her neck and end her life in an instant. Quick. Painless. Just like he'd done for Remi.

"I hope this is alright," Ezekiel admitted, in a platonic way he hoped it came across as romantic. He thought it was appropriate, something akin to what she'd be hoping for. The suit he'd chosen was classic and black through and through, something that wouldn't show the blood, fit for a funeral. "how are you feeling?"

[ezekielurquhart]

open to: @hcdonism​ ​ location: Amaranthus House: Graveyard notes: Post Plot Drop 4 

Ezekiel Christopher Urquhart August 11th 1995 - September 30th 2022 Beloved Son, Brother, and Witch I am not there, I did not die

Bravery had brought Ezekiel to the cemetery. The home behind him sat empty save for Hazal whose method of grieving had taken on a life of its own. It was hard to fathom that they were gone. Ezekiel had hated them - all of them - wanted them dead, but when he found the ornate headstone that had been laid out for him he noticed the flowers that couldn’t have been more than a few days old. She left them for you everyday. It had been easier when he just hated them, when he thought that they didn’t care or didn’t grieve. Absent that he was forced to face the truth, his decisions had ended up getting him killed and there was nobody to blame but himself. He’d never get to make amends, he’d never win the approval that he’d been desperate for for so long. He was alone, once again. Naturally. 

Remi was alive, Ezekiel could feel it, could feel him getting closer too. Circling the vampire that had avoided him since that night in the streets. A few days had trickled by and the thrall’s connection to him had dwindled, a twisted knife as absence and longing for the comfort that Remi could bring wanted to send the vampire running towards him. It was strong, almost as strong for Ezekiel’s inherent longing for the boyfriend he’d almost killed - not once now, but twice. Rhiannon had told him to go, to take Remi and run but of course Ezekiel hadn’t listen. When had he ever? 

Sat opposite the headstone he kept his eyes fixed on the inscription as he resisted the urge to look towards Remi as he approached. Had things gone differently the other day it might have been the faiman’s grave that the vampire was visiting as opposed to his own. “I didn’t think they’d put this up I just assumed...” Ezekiel wasn’t sure what he had thought, maybe that the coven would have just forgotten about him. The end of an embarrassing chapter in an otherwise distinguished history. He broke and looked up towards the other, fiddling with the daylight ring on his finger as he did, a gift from Marcella months ago. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else there was to say. 

[ezekielurquhart]

@senatusstarters location: Mojo Dojo Casa Hakan's House notes: open to the pluto fam + Gaybe and Gael as appies. Happy Death Day to Marcella.

Black was the dress code, this was a funeral after all. Ezekiel got off the turntables long enough to stand on the speaker system that had been setup for the event. Yes, everything was going to hell and the city was about to be turned into a battleground, but there were still reasons to celebrate. Gael was walking around and had survived the plague, Remi and him were getting married, Salvador was- ugh, Hakan had stopped wearing ruffles, Pluto had returned to Rome, Dimitri had the smaller castle next door but he was still valid, Oliver was doing weird things with his rats but that was fine - even welcomed here, and Xerxes was walking funny - good for him. Gabe was... Well, Gabe was just a good snack to share. Still, good for him.

It was strange to think he'd started alone, Amala had said to him once that he should never become a marshal. He still wouldn't, but he had started to understand how lonely things could get at the top. Yes, they were all dead, but there was so much life out there worth living. Turntable behind him, speaker system beneath him, as shitty as things had been a year ago, life hadn't turned out too bad for one Ezekiel Christopher Urquhart.

"Excuse me everyone I'd like to make a toast," Ezekiel said into the mic as the music faded in the background. A couple "this party, this party," he looked around the room and locked eyes with Hakan. "this party goes crazy!" Rap god though he may have been, eloquent wordsmith Ezekiel certainly was not. "I just wanted to take a minute to welcome Marcella into the family and the bloodline." He hadn't gotten to do this with Remi, they went from sire and progeny to the world was about to be destroyed and now that it was apocalypse two electric boogaloo, Ezekiel was done wasting time. "So, to Marcella, to Pluto, and to the future: love you fam." Okay so he'd been drinking, they could sue him because it was a party.