Do … do you ever just think about how Marius is such a meticulous clothes horse but he stops dressing himself and washing after that time he thought Armand died and then how when everyone thought Marius died it was clear that Armand also stopped dressing and caring for himself and how he had to be put on watch by other vampires so he didn’t harm himself?

Do you ever just wake up and think - wow! Even after everything that happened the potential death of the other one just completely ripped their two worlds apart and it was almost like they found reasons to almost stop existing? Like, the pain was THAT debilitating? Where is just felt like the air was sucked out of them and all hope went with it? Because I —

— Jamie Anderson, via tinybuddhaofficial 

Armand wandered for an hour. The forest was alive with life, fellow nocturnal animals went about their business. The larger predators seemingly paused to access him. Then quickly continued on their ways. Unperturbed. He was new but not different. *he* was close then. During this time his mind wandered also, back to his persistant nightmares. There was a general theme his pain, Venice and the brothel. He was in the ‘wooing room’, he was rarely alone for long here. He’d face the wall make himself look small and maybe they’d pass him by. But he always stood out, as he never greeted these suitors, and because his hair glimmered like a beacon. Fiery in the candle light. A lamp near him brightened to better see his face. Flattery dripped into his ears. Hands moving over him. He asked for them to stop, but it was jabbering to them. Nonsense to himself if he thought about it. Only his internal voice was his own mother tongue. It was fading by the day - this clarity. He stared at the wall, fearful of looking up - he didn’t want to know their faces, a form to his growing horror unless his hair was tugged sharply for obedience. Knew each intimate crack as they did what they wished to his body. His mind automatically shut off. Then he’d awake later in his cell sore, heart sick slowly recalling flash by flash what had happened. Maybe his soul would waft through the clay brickwork and ascend to heaven, whilst his body was consigned to hell. They beat him with a stick no wider than his thumb, anywhere but his face. When he refused to submit again. Then they threw him in the killing cell hunger, thirst added to the other sore bruised flesh. Every face of his abusers was either Marius or Daniel. Just more purveyors of want. He always awoke shouting in halting Russian. Another one was his burning, a twist being Daniel had pushed him through the church doors into the light watching him burn. This jarring awareness was punctuated by Daniels name. Others were just variations of a theme. As Armand walked his nails absently scored his palms, nervous tension singing through him. It had grown harder to switch these emotions off. His Compartmentalising was failing. Any other time he would have found these ancient trees fasinating. Not now they were a barrier between him and Daniel. Monochrome patches caught his eye. He stared straight ahead at incongruous paint. Dripping on bark. A figure ahead, a spectre of earth and grime. Leaving his hood up he peered through this camoflage. Daniel - *Him* painting with his own blood. A gasp as Armand smells his elixir, unique to his love. The spectre looks up alerted.

*I wonder how the first response was taken, as the silence stretched between the consecutive replies. Reviewing what I had written I cursed my lack of clarity in what I had wrote. I’m an immortal idiot, who despite speaking five languages and be over 500 years old, cannot structure a question correctly. Daniel would read it as needing permission to leave rather than a wish to ask why he had not been taken with him?* *Another reply. ‘I need a second. I’m okay.’ - the last words contradicting with the former. He wasn’t okay. Odd how the distance and safety net this textual conversation provided, had suddenly made him terribly insightful of Daniel. Truth new told he knew Daniel extremely well. It was just when infront of him, spitting the usually bile of anger and same old dance he found it hard to step off his equally tempestuous high horse and read the emotive responses between the words of rancour. No reply to his suggestive message. Maybe he’d over played this. Gone too far too soon. And being let down gently would follow in the next message. …* ‘sorry distracted,’ followed amazingly swiftly on the previous missive. By what though I asked myself. Lost in thoughts. Not necessarily pleasant ones. They’d floated together again. But not discussed his loves madness years, or his brush with the sun. Put plainly my own moment of insanity. Where I was nothing, not a lover, maker, 500 years old fallen saint to be. But a poor confused and lost youth, who knew he had or thought he knew his existence was the only way to repent the stain that was his immortality. Daniel was a horribly ironic casualty of this rash act. The one person I loved above all else, hurt eternally by this…..they’d discuss it one day. Not now. Possibly not in San Francisco but soon.* [Text: Beloved] I wrote incorrectly. I meant why did you not ask me to come too?….. Anyway no matter. You are okay then. You’d tell me if you weren’t wouldn’t you, Daniel. Please…..I. .. No matter what….? Not now but soon? *I stare at the screen. Do I press send will it send him careening even further from my orbit….-presses send- of course he still has the key. Bought along from the Night Island within a box of keepsakes. Tangible reminders of you, of us…of everything. Something to smell, cling to in the dark days…when you seemed so far away. Our own worst enemies….* [Text: Beloved ] Yes I have the key. See you tomorrow Night. My better heart.

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. When did everything become such a trial? I try a couple drafts before I shoot myself in the foot again.

[draft: boss] I should have asked. I didn’t think you’d want to come. I didn’t think you’d want me and my bag of problems.

[draft: boss] I was jumping out of my skin and I knew if I even talked to you I’d just bite your head off.

[draft: boss] I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you.

[draft: boss] I couldn’t find you! I thought, you, you were always supposed to be there! You weren’t supposed to be just gone! I had to find Marius, I didn’t even, you were GONE! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE GONE! I CAN’T BE HERE IF YOU’RE NOT!

[text: boss] Tomorrow, my love. I promise. 

[google] emergency 24-hour maid cleaning service

[google] emergency 24-hour floral delivery

[google] songs that say you’re sorry without saying sorry

[google] how to say “I love you” in Russian

[google] how to say “I’m sorry” in Russian

[google] how to pronounce Russian

*I stare at the phone awaiting further texts. Wonders how many texts didn’t make it to his inbox. What Daniel had left unsaid.* [Text: Beloved] Anything you’ve not text tell me if you want face to face. No secrets. Promise. [Text: Beloved] Love you too, Beloved. ~That night. He’d packed a bag swiftly. Got his plane to wyoming. Stayed in the planes hold in a steel box that locked inside. So he’d awake with only a 3 hr journey to Daniel in San Francisco. ~ The area around pacific heights appeared unchanged. He had the key but remembered the roof terrace. Well lit enough for a vampire to sit and smoke, read and kill time whilst awaiting someone you assumed two hours away. He flew up behind Daniel. Sing his cloud gift. Sheltered next to the potted palm trees. [Text: Beloved] I’m just admiring the view. -*This wasn’t a lie as he took in Daniel in all his relaxed and free glory.* “I’m behind you, beautiful boy.” He said outloud awaiting his early surprise arrival.

*silence - as his heart wrenches* Oh you speak of then…. I….It had nothing to do with you, Beloved. …Pl…It was from my past. Ingrained in me from childhood to be a good martyr..I was a broken thing from near cradle to grave. Spat out by fate whatever path was forged for me. Broken when you met me. You were always too good for me, too pure of heart. You never stopped being my minion….never. Through your edited passages I left out of my book. My treasured acolyte in my temple. Eternally. Your blood is in my veins and will be my wine always. Even if I never bite into your skin. My miracle, taste you again….But we haven’t been through this nearly enough. You never came and I didn’t know for such a long time why. I fucking what….tell me?! Carve it into my skin as an offering if you want. Whatever you need…anything…. to say but can’t speak. Silence two fold. I…I can’t stand it either…. I had heaven on earth and you left. Like everyone leaves….I gave in…I let those demons inside instead eat away at me. The ones that faded in your arms…*can’t see through tears. Bites own hand to stop a sob* - 5 minutes elapse- I’ll buy sears if I have too. Or Toshiba for a machine. That’s where you’ll get one.

Post Mortem au

(Trigger Warning: violence, blood, sexual assault, death, grief) Numbly Armand felt Daniels kiss to his head, heard the promises that he’d return soon, felt the worry bleeding into every action of his beloved. Then felt the retreating footsteps through his feet echo on the floor boards.  He stared at his hands, dark grime beneath his nails, earth and the life blood that had soaked into it. Sols blood. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, to absorb as much of the man that had filled his heart, slowly placing one fingernail after the other into his mouth. The dried substance melting. But it tasted bitter, nothing akin to the sunshine spirit that Sol had been. Now filled with self loathing and disgust he rushed to the bathroom. Spitting out and cupping hands to drink and sloosh his mouth out.

Post Mortem au

(Trigger warnings: violence, blood, death, grief, angst, alluded to sexual assault - also tagged below)

Armand being the first to awake was reading the letter pinned to his and Daniels room. A established ritual since Sol had moved in. A special patched area on the finely varnished antique door specifically for the mortal to pin his notes for their attention. He wandered to the forementioned bathroom, a huge bath filled to the brim as described with many seemingly contented fish swimming around in the bath tub, a packet of feed next to the rub, with a note telling all when they had last been fed so as not to over stuff the golden creatures. They matched the golden flecked marble tiles, and then gilded taps rather well. Though the sticking point being it was Daniels favoured bath, there was a lot of bathrooms, this being one he came back to more often then not. When not using the huge bathroom next to their Master suite ofcourse. He text Sol expecting him home at any minute, No text forthcoming inbetween and he was usually diligent, aware that the both especially himself fretted about him during the day. He knew how cruel the world could be… [Text: Sol] Your fish are safe. Perhaps bring Sunflowers but sans baby blue birds. I do not want to be responsible for rendering a Mother Bird chickless. Love you too, Sol.