auburnandamberangel reblogged
Backstage Christian Dior Couture ss 2017 Paris Fashion Week. Photo, Greg. Kessler,
auburnandamberangel reblogged
cosmic love // florence and the machine
thosefuckrstm
That giggle it didn’t sound empty, it sounded just as he recalled infact. A timbre to its sound that held sadness perhaps, but Armand had never known Nicolas for any length of time prior to his change. He had no example of the quality of his mortal mirth. All he knew was a laugh, a smile transformed them into the closest they got to human, excluding a glut of blood. My treasure - the affectionate term rang true also, their relationship would puzzle most but somehow seemed the most reliable one he had right now.
A gesture of his hand taken once more made Nicolas’ promise of guarding his heart tangible, he was grounded in the moment with no wish to float back on his woes and might have beens. Would he admit this to an old companion perhaps not right now.
“Adam Ant is a seventies and eighties punk glam rock entertainer. Striking make up. War paint.” A homely dwelling, a classic example of lived in. Quite the floral display in the garden, a reflection of her owner. It needed work. Belonging was half the battle for their kind. “How long have you had it?”
“He sounds absolutely boring! A repetitive image of things done before, as all that we do and strive to be. Yet we are ourselves and crave praise that what we’ve done is better.” He shakes his head. “I’m sure he’s wonderful as a person but music in that genre is so dead, not that none of it is good. It’s just …. annoying at this point. I crave something new, or someone new to do things with. I’m terribly bored with my life as it is now.” He smiled looking over at his old companion. “Not in this moment, of course! I’m so glad you’ve found me. I promise not to put you in war paint.”
He turns his attention to the street they’re about to cross and hums. “The house was built in nineteen twenty by Ethel and Anthony. I inherited it from Ethel in nineteen forty. I acted as a caretaker at night and helped her into whatever happens after death. She put me into her will after her husband died listed as her nephew.”
Armand stayed silent. A point to focus on and minds to keep entertained was what a vampire needed, so easy to let yourself slip and become bereft and lost. Acknowledging the promise of no way paint.
"A bequest then. Have you faked your own demise as the nephew yet to re-inherit?" So many alias' he'd had over the years after the theatre.
thosefuckrstm
Not much surprise that nickname was associated with Lestat. It wouldn’t leave his lips again tonight, he didn’t wish to goad the younger vampire, though he had been guilty of this in the past. The need for companionship was far too strong to risk it during this encounter. A passing group of men glanced across the street at Nicolas’ sharp but joyless laughter. He sent out a strong impulse to not look at him, or either of them ingeneral to all and sundry in their path. Time later for all the attention they wished.
“You have a heart it’s just dormant. I can tell as I had the same problem once, may have so again in the not so distant future. I’ll look after it, better than I did back in the day. Promise for what it’s worth.” What a melancholy pair they were, the mood must be lifted if tonight were to be a success.
Hand feeling oddly empty without Nicolas’ to clutch. Crinkling his nose at the description of the ‘disco pop queen look at me garbage’.
“I’m not against makeup as long as it’s artfully done and I don’t resemble Adam Ant. A modern venue this night club hmmm. Anything goes?” Switching to french. “C'est combien plus loin, mon ami?”
Nicolas hummed as he picked up the pace a little. They had been walking for a while now so the impatience was understandable. “Un cœur? S'il vous plaît mon ami, ce n'est pas le moment de plaisanter. Je suis serieux. Je me sens vide. Je ne sens rien. J'essaie d'être heureux mais je ne peux pas. Je suis empty. I will look after yours. Mon trésor!” He giggled. He slowed enough to dip slightly taking his hand once more with a small smile as he brushed his lips over his knuckles. “Je suis sérieux. Je vais le protéger comme si c'était la chose la plus importante de l'histoire!” He gives his hand a gentle squeeze , swinging them slightly as they cross the street. “Anything goes. I’ll do your makeup for you. Who’s Adam Ant?” He looks over with a laugh. “ Pas beaucoup plus longtemps! C'est au bout de cette rue.” He points at an old looking brick house tucked behind some bushes and trees and more flowers than needed to be in the small yard. “She needs a paint job.”
That giggle it didn't sound empty, it sounded just as he recalled infact. A timbre to its sound that held sadness perhaps, but Armand had never known Nicolas for any length of time prior to his change. He had no example of the quality of his mortal mirth. All he knew was a laugh, a smile transformed them into the closest they got to human, excluding a glut of blood. My treasure - the affectionate term rang true also, their relationship would puzzle most but somehow seemed the most reliable one he had right now.
A gesture of his hand taken once more made Nicolas' promise of guarding his heart tangible, he was grounded in the moment with no wish to float back on his woes and might have beens. Would he admit this to an old companion perhaps not right now.
"Adam Ant is a seventies and eighties punk glam rock entertainer. Striking make up. War paint." A homely dwelling, a classic example of lived in. Quite the floral display in the garden, a reflection of her owner. It needed work. Belonging was half the battle for their kind. "How long have you had it?"
viiolinwept
“Interrupting of mortals in compromising positions, a classic.” So many had been caught out in the alleys surrounding the theatre. Easy meals for the younger of the troop, or little drinks for all else.
“To Paris, I have no objection, to that shortening nickname however I do.” Why not give those spectres from his past now. It’s not as if anyone was awaiting him back home. Any calls were diverted to his mobile. So he was as free as he wished to be now. “My Star is much more preferable.”
Taking the cats possible fickle behaviour in his stride without comment, Armand returned the squeeze careful not to be too enthusiastic about it. Pressured bones didn’t encourage trust. “I’m sure. Will I be passable or should I borrow one of your shirts for our night on the town?”
Nicolas busted out into joyous over the top laughter that was sure to draw attention and that would have been a problem in the past but now they would be looked at as late night drunks stumbling their way home. He still kept a lid on the volume not really having a problem with that until he slipped into moments of rage and mania. He was still a mostly quiet man just more animated in certain company. “I could go on about the details for ages darling but where’s the fun in the topic of castration when so close to nearly sobering.” A hum and he walked along in silence for a moment. “ Fair enough. I despise Nicki. It leaves a overwhelming combination of feelings ….disappointment, loneliness, e m p t i n e s s—” He hisses the word out like it’s cut his throat up on the way up and burned his tongue on the way out. “— in the pit of where I assume that airhead would argue my soul or that figurative sense of damnable goodness and light would be. There is no light and if there is, it is a funeral pyre burning in an empty black room.” He turns to look at him with a grin that seems to be out of place with the heaviness to the words. “When our outing is over, would you like to see if I have a heart left?” His voice is low, hushed. “If you can find it you can keep what’s left. I’ve done just fine without it, and I’m sure it would be fine in such capable hands.” He turns and puts a skip in his step letting go of his hand, shoving his into his own pockets. “Borrow whatever you want Armand. I’m sure I’ve got something in your size. I’ve made some questionable fashion decisions. I’m sure I’ve got something tailored to your frame somewhere. Leather. Gold. Jewels. Suits that don’t look like disco pop scene queen look at me garbage. I’ll make sure you look presentable. Are you against makeup— I’ll be wearing some.”
Not much surprise that nickname was associated with Lestat. It wouldn't leave his lips again tonight, he didn't wish to goad the younger vampire, though he had been guilty of this in the past. The need for companionship was far too strong to risk it during this encounter. A passing group of men glanced across the street at Nicolas' sharp but joyless laughter. He sent out a strong impulse to not look at him, or either of them ingeneral to all and sundry in their path. Time later for all the attention they wished.
"You have a heart it's just dormant. I can tell as I had the same problem once, may have so again in the not so distant future. I'll look after it, better than I did back in the day. Promise for what it's worth." What a melancholy pair they were, the mood must be lifted if tonight were to be a success.
Hand feeling oddly empty without Nicolas' to clutch. Crinkling his nose at the description of the 'disco pop queen look at me garbage'.
"I'm not against makeup as long as it's artfully down and I don't resemble Adam Ant. A modern venue this night club hmmm. Anything goes?" Switching to french. "C'est combien plus loin, mon ami?"
viiolinwept
“Mon cher I wouldn’t fling myself, rather I’d float out of the window if the mood took me. I can fly.” Leading the way to the door. Allowing himself to acknowledge that Nicolas was operating under the influence of tainted blood. All the same the laugh was intoxicating in its own way.
‘Went out of business’ - such a pedestrian way to describe it being burnt to the ground. “Along the corridor, on the other side of the door, no great mystery.”
“We could do both.” Flashing a smile at Nicolas for the jest. “I may well do so.” Charmed at the invitation.
“Potatoes Tomatoes. Good for you and your flying! My feet are staying on the ground unless I want to scare some people jumping off of high places. I’m not fond of heights.” He follows focusing on not using his ability, pulling his hand away when Lestat suddenly crosses his mind. “Well it did. I assume everyone is dead, so I put it that way rather than ‘hey did everyone I knew die agonizing deaths’ because that might ruin the mood.” He folds his arms over his chest fingers sinking into his skin a little. He smiles and shakes his head. “Both it is then. Home first to look decent enough to be in public. Oh, I have a little devil named Banshee, but since you’re a stranger she’ll probably just hide under the bed. My dogs are staying elsewhere, so you won’t have to worry about being attacked. Can I hold your hand again? I didn’t want you to hear me be pathetic. It takes a lot to keep it all in and touch makes it worse—” He holds out his hand. “—if you don’t mind bits and pieces of the past.”
"Most of them had already gone by the time the theatre was destroyed." Not elaborating on gone how, a conversation reserved for some time never. "Even though now the fall will only break parts of you." Mouth showing a hint of fang with the curling of his mouth.
"Banshee being a cat I assume. Felines and myself usually get along. Dogs tend to be scared of me." Shrugging as if it was just one of those things. Not that he'd had a cat as yet.
"We can both freshen up." Re-taking Nicolas' offered hand. "I'm sure it's nothing I haven't seen before." Meaning it in a reassuring rather than jaded way. He rather missed physical contact himself of late. Getting worth in his advanced years.
auburnandamberangel reblogged
Odi et Amo
“Never more addled. I try to rein myself in. People love the poetry of a mad artist but no one actually wants to listen to one, take one seriously. On a good day I can manage good sense and reason the way other people do. Every day, I try to keep that, but sometimes it is impossible to hold everything together. It is like driving a chariot where, at any moment, the horses may break their reins and no amount of skill and willpower can control them then.”
“The affliction is seen as a necessary aesthetic affectation these days rather than a serious mental complaint. People want the edgy insight without the actual real histrionics I believe. So on these worst of bad days you keep inside, closeted away. Do these periods of quiet correlate to when you feed properly, like a good vampire. To nourish yourself? Wild horses need discipline, discipline of self most importantly.” How often had he wanted Nicolas to follow a pattern of some kind. Especially when he had been so young, barely dead. Looking at his glassy nails, studying how the fire light played across their glossy surface.
“If it was as simple as hunger, don;t you think I would have figured it out in these two centuries?” he growled. He was quite used to hearing everyone offer simple solutions and shallow platitudes. But he had expected better of Armand. “If anything, it’s the moods that change my feeding habits. When miserable, I like to be drunk. Dulls the worst of it, at least.” He scoffed. “Don’t you think I’ve tried discipline too? You tried discipline, control, and restraint on me. How did that work out again?” he mocked.
Hearing the heavy reproach, so leaden in tone Armand swiftly retorted. “I did not mean as a cure to all ailments no, I haven’t become clueless in my advanced years. I only point out that starving yourself never truly served to make you more balanced in your outlook nor behaviour. Admittedly yourself inebriated isn’t a good idea either. By all means go to town tonight, don’t let my presence stop you. It worked fine, momentarily. Until you went into the pyre. Maybe you’re not meant to be tamed.”
“Starving myself? I remember feeding plenty in the old days.” Messily. Violently. In ways that Eleni wrote about in her letters and that Armand was forced to cover up. “But I promise I won’t do that tonight. It’s your city and I won’t break your shiny little plaything. Oh, and here’s a bit of insight, my dear Armand? If the situation was so drastic that I went into the fire, then it wasn’t working. Just a little tip for your future endeavors.” He said with a sarcastically saccharine smile.
“I should have specified not to starve yourself of normal feeds, where you didn’t eviscerate your victims or paint the town red in away that has nothing to do with a good time.” Armand said between slightly clenched teeth. “I lost count of the number of mortals I had to bespell. So forgive me if I don’t exactly take your promise at face value.” He replied with equal rancour. “You gave up, and chose the fire.”
auburnandamberangel reblogged
Odi et Amo
“Never more addled. I try to rein myself in. People love the poetry of a mad artist but no one actually wants to listen to one, take one seriously. On a good day I can manage good sense and reason the way other people do. Every day, I try to keep that, but sometimes it is impossible to hold everything together. It is like driving a chariot where, at any moment, the horses may break their reins and no amount of skill and willpower can control them then.”
“The affliction is seen as a necessary aesthetic affectation these days rather than a serious mental complaint. People want the edgy insight without the actual real histrionics I believe. So on these worst of bad days you keep inside, closeted away. Do these periods of quiet correlate to when you feed properly, like a good vampire. To nourish yourself? Wild horses need discipline, discipline of self most importantly.” How often had he wanted Nicolas to follow a pattern of some kind. Especially when he had been so young, barely dead. Looking at his glassy nails, studying how the fire light played across their glossy surface.
“If it was as simple as hunger, don;t you think I would have figured it out in these two centuries?” he growled. He was quite used to hearing everyone offer simple solutions and shallow platitudes. But he had expected better of Armand. “If anything, it’s the moods that change my feeding habits. When miserable, I like to be drunk. Dulls the worst of it, at least.” He scoffed. “Don’t you think I’ve tried discipline too? You tried discipline, control, and restraint on me. How did that work out again?” he mocked.
Hearing the heavy reproach, so leaden in tone Armand swiftly retorted. "I did not mean as a cure to all ailments no, I haven't become clueless in my advanced years. I only point out that starving yourself never truly served to make you more balanced in your outlook nor behaviour. Admittedly yourself inebriated isn't a good idea either. By all means go to town tonight, don't let my presence stop you. It worked fine, momentarily. Until you went into the pyre. Maybe you're not meant to be tamed."
auburnandamberangel reblogged
blankbellblank3333-deactivated2
SEND 🌙 FOR A LATE NIGHT TEXT
[TEXT] I dreamt you were painting a portrait of me
[TEXT] how strange
[TEXT] I am in Paris - where are you?
The warm greeting surpassed what he had imagined, Antoine was more tactile than their last meeting. It wasn’t unwelcome this boldness. He kept still and pliant as the taller yet younger vampire touchingly feel the corner of his smile as well as his soft flesh under his chin. The moment passed as swiftly as it had begun when the pianist came to himself, suddenly wary and shy. Armand cocked his head to oneside as he pondered the question. “Usually the reverse is true. But we are all different. Are you hungering for fulfilment elsewhere perhaps.” His eyes full of teasing mischief. “Unless you have come into a new power or talent? That can change our eating habits.” “I find my quarries easily, human nature at its worst rarely varies. The main landmarks are the same. I’m sure I could navigate still yes.“ Armand whistled appreciatively. “My my this is quite the set of wheels.” Getting into the car, charmed by being seated by the other first. Smiling slightly as Antoine leapt into the drivers seat over the door rather than through it. “Wind in our hair and devil may care. Yes, let’s. Take me to the wrong side of town, mon cher. And then your lodgings.”
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“What in the duces happened to you?” Crouching done next to youngman. He’d found himself outside this escorts home. About to leave when this scene greeted him.
Reclining next to Enjolras, facing the mortal. Propping his head up using one hand against his head. Smiling lightly as he walked his fingers across the bedspread. Undoing a button of the other top before retreating. “Your turn?”
“My turn for what love?” He asked, smiling brightly
“Why to slowly undress me, Cher.” He replied with an expression that would be discerned as coy if not for the look in his eyes. “One button at a time each in turns, so your turn.”
Enjolras smiled and rolled his eyes dramatically before reaching over to unbutton the first button on his shirt “this is going to take far too long”
Armand saw the eye rolling, “I apologise do you have a pressing rendezvous tonight.” Tilting his head to oneside as he studied the other. Undoing another of the man’s shirt. “Less talk more undoing perhaps.”
“Of course not, I’m all yours” he smiled undoing another button
“Good to hear. I wouldn’t want to fatigue you.” Eyes twinkling Armand undid one more button. Hand purposely brushing skin beneath.
“Really? I was hoping you would” he smirked, shifting closer as he slowly undid another button
"Oh. I see you've stumbled upon a play on words." Not unaware the mortal had shifted nearer still. "I'm sure you'll be quite drained by the time I'm finished with you." Armand remarked with tongue in cheek. "On a good way."
auburnandamberangel reblogged
((send me a symbol)) 😘 - to kiss my muse.
Armand always tasted sweet. He could be as soft as he looked. But Nicolas knew that those fingers- so gentle now- could crush if they wanted to. That was Armand- a weapon sheathed in a innocent shell.
But the kiss was sweet.
Nicolas let it linger before pulling apart. “What was that for?”
“Truth is a weapon individuals seldom wield wisely.” Wondering when this quiet and calm interlude between them would sour, and the usual dance ensued. “Perhaps this is our own version of a softened, bubble coated world. Lying to ourselves…” “We just gravitated towards this, fluid. Without foresight. Refreshing and strange all at once. Considering how we begun.” The were rapidly talking themselves out of this weren’t they?
“I am not sure we are lying to ourselves, for once.” Nicolas countered. “I haven’t forgotten all that happened between us. I am not forgiving it. But as you said… we gravitated towards this. No denial, no justifications, no excuses. I cannot say I understand how this happened, but the only lies I remember thinking are telling myself it could not possibly be happening.”
“Not forgiving but turning a page between us. A fresh sheet.” pulling their bedding tighter around himself, without moving from his position aligned with Nicolas. “Something in you sparked something in me.” Placing on kiss on the nearest expanse of flesh that was his pillow. “Did you think it was a illusion or hallucination then?” Not as simple a distinction for the violinist during his bad days.
auburnandamberangel reblogged
blankbellblank3333-deactivated2
SEND 🌙 FOR A LATE NIGHT TEXT
[TEXT] I dreamt you were painting a portrait of me
[TEXT] how strange
[TEXT] I am in Paris - where are you?
[TEXT] Really? What style was I painting in out of curiosity?
[TEXT] It depends how successful the portrait was I suppose…
[TEXT] Where I usually am, New York. Shall I meet you there?
antoineandthepiano
[TEXT] I can not remember but I remember it was an image of me
[TEXT ] Yes - come to me here
[TEXT] How odd <br><br>
[TEXT] I’ll see you in two nights
antoineandthepiano
Antoine hung around the airport waiting around for Armand. He didn’t know when exactly he’d arrive that night or if he was already in Paris. He was tempted to call him but he wanted to wait a little longer until he could see him through the crowd. The Autumn air was still warm and comforting against his cold hard skin and all he could think about was finding Armand and later feeding. He searched through the crowd until he spotted the older vampire and he couldn’t help but smile with his fangs and all.
Armand had packed a minimal bag. He’d taken his jet. Far more practical than taking a commercial flight or flying himself. Threading his way through the arriving and departing mortals he made out Antoines lithe figure. His own face matching the grin, though stopping short of showing any fang. Stopping infront of Antoine and playing the customary european greeting if two or more kisses to the taller vampires cheeks, he asked. “Have you eaten? Flying always makes me famished.” A twinkle in his eye.
auburnandamberangel reblogged
Odi et Amo
“Bedroom games, yes. But we played other, far more dangerous ‘games’, did we not?” Niclas answered. They had come to people watch, but he kept his eyes either on Armand or the street outside. He shook his head. “I’m not sure I have an ‘often’. I return to Paris more than anywhere else, but always as a traveler. Always knowing I’ll leave again.”
“But ofcourse we did, we knew no other way. Or atleast I didn’t by then. Vampires took to change slowly, if at all.“ The bar was alive with revelry, but Nicolas’ eyes were on him or the door. "You have the freedom to come and go. It’s what most crave when it comes down to the brass tacks.” Armand mused then compelled to add. “Are you expecting someone?”