Fantasy Demons...why demons? (a 1x1 rp)

Gary Sue · Mar 17, 2025

It was that same softness, right after insinuating he might have been 'enticed' by the tragic death they had both witnessed, that caught him off guard. That, and the closeness she felt to lea against him. The world around them blanked out for a moment as he felt his eyes widen with surprise, but hearing her next murmur while she hid her face away from him... he couldn't help but feel his own face soften a little, and a small, almost satisfied grin peeked from the corners of his lips. "... We'll make sure you are soon enough.", Armand murmured with a similar warmth in his own voice, letting out a small sigh of relief. It wasn't either of them, and neither of them had been made. All was well.

All but the sense of this- that same vein that popped prior on the man's head was beginning to return from the matter-of-factly tone of the directors. It was already infuriating enough to know there was no such thing as 'redemption' for their comrade who was killed for the sake of killing, but to have her death be ignored with no room to even mourn... something about that frustrated him.

He was almost shutting out all noise from the just anger he felt, only snapping out of it when he heard a familiar name and saw River speaking up too. It took him a brief moment to piece things together and understand she was taking the other dancer's place, and though a part of him was happy... it wouldn't really matter in the end. "This change only happened because they had no other choice, too."

This is why he wanted out. How sickening.

Hearing River's murmurs, Armand looked down at her with a frown on his face and nodded, contemplating something for an odd minute before with a tired huff, he turned towards the directors. "... Give me a moment, River.", that was the last exhale that left him before he took a few confident and almost too brave steps towards one of the bunch. Getting their attention and curiosity, he asked for a word in private further away from the rest of the coordination efforts.

The next two or three minutes were rather long as he tried to get a grasp on the impromptu changes and their breakneck pace. His main concern was seeing whether or not there were going to be rehearsals as of right now so that he knew if he should make his thoughts clear in the moment or not, but... thankfully for them, it appeared to be unnecessary as they simply wanted to catch everyone up to speed. Maybe that was a white lie from the director upon realising just how upset Armand was, given his near confrontational tone for what felt like the first time since he'd entered the troupe.

As the director walked back and Armand made his way by River again, he crossed his arms and explained the situation to her with some relief in his voice. "Your wish is granted... mostly. They want to make sure everyone is on board with the changes while they take care of the stagelight and run a maintenance check on the rest, and I was told there's no plans for more rehearsals today... I'm not sure if you'll need to talk with your costumer for touch-ups to your outfit, granted..."

A quick glance at her attire was enough to make him grumble a little with displeasure. "It feels a bit faffed, since you were always given a role in the back where you weren't the main focus.", he couldn't help but comment seeing all the little imperfections on her clothes. Then again, he couldn't tell if that was something with her specifically or all the rest of the dancers too, instead raising his gaze to look into her own eyes as though he was asking for confirmation.

---

Location: Backstage
Mood: Relieved

EclecticSpica · Mar 17, 2025

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Backstage
MOOD: thankful

River blinked, her gaze lingering on Armand’s back as he walked away. Her brows furrowed as she watched him speak with the ever-dictatorial directors, their sharp gestures and clipped tones making it clear they had little patience to spare.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a clue—something, anything—that would help her understand what was happening. When she caught sight of a few actors smiling, some in relief, others in appreciation, her confusion only deepened. Then, just as suddenly as he had left, Armand returned. River’s brows shot up. “Wish?” she echoed, tilting her head as he explained. “Oh—oh!” Her gaze darted back toward the directors, who had already moved on, busying themselves with sorting out replacements. The remaining actors began to disperse, relieved to be dismissed.

River turned back to Armand, then glanced down at her costume. The tulle-like gown, designed to shimmer under the grand lights and fire of the stage, looked dull and unimpressive in the dim backstage glow. Worse, it seemed to wear her rather than the other way around. She lifted the skirt slightly, giving it a wiggle, only to frown as a fine layer of dust sprinkled to the floor. “If I do…” she sighed, considering his offer, “the costumer won’t have anything for me today. I know that much.” She tried to recall what the front-row dancers wore.

“I don’t believe there’s much difference, though. The only thing that separates mine from the others are the added details to hide the marks,” she admitted, suddenly feeling a strong urge to strip out of the thing altogether. Perhaps she would change—into her regular clothes, or better yet, her sleeping garments. Maybe she’d retreat to her bunk for the rest of the evening, let exhaustion take her before her mind could spiral any further. Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric before she exhaled and lifted her gaze back to him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, more uncertain. Her eyes met his, then shied away, unaccustomed to the feeling of gratitude—especially for something so… considerate. “For speaking with them. For finding out what’s happening.” A pause. She bit her bottom lip, considering his last words, then—unexpectedly—a small chuckle slipped out. It felt foreign, awkward even, but it was there. “Thank you, as well, for noticing me in the dancers.” Her lips twitched into a rare smile, warmth flickering in her gaze. “I hope you enjoyed the show, even if it was a bit… faffed.” She repeated his word back to him, amusement softening the lingering tension in her shoulders.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Mar 18, 2025

Though she did try to underplay what the differences between the two were, he couldn't help but groan a little at the sight of dust coming off her dress when it did, giving her a slightly worried look. Apparently hers was custom made too, and all that for... well, a dusty skirt nonetheless. He almost exhaled in disappointment before hearing her murmur, catching him off guard yet again. But this time the shock was much shorter lived, his face retreating into that soft grin once again by the time her eyes couldn't bear to keep looking.

Crossing his arms, he waited for her to finish after the pause and couldn't help but chuckle himself, a lot of his spirit having almost recovered with this second wind. For a shitty day, she sure knew how to help brighten the mood with suddenly getting flustered and showing this different side of hers. Hell, she even smiled and the look in her eyes was almost... soft. "Bar the falling headlights, the only faffed thing about it was you being shoved in the back. You deserve some time being admired too.", his words came out with near no hesitation as he chuckled and brought a hand up to his mouth slowly, trying to keep it under control.

Right.

Given that they'd be parting ways for the night soon enough, he kept that smile and lowered his hand, stretching it outwards to her as he locked eyes with her and nodded. "Let's make the next show worth it, then. I already know you will."

For how the day had started... this was a good note to end it on. They hadn't even gotten enough time to get to know each other, but just knowing that he could have her back and help her get back on her feet... it's definitely not what he sought when he tried to feed from her, but he would more than happily take it for what it is. Just a bit of this companionship was enough for him to feel more comfortable. No more practiced smiles, no more kind gestures for the sake of appearances and getting by easier... and no more trashing birthday cake either. At least not in the garbage, provided he could sneak her back into his dressing room sooner or later.

"Are you going to be heading back to your room then, to get some rest?"

---

Location: Backstage
Mood: Content

EclecticSpica · Mar 18, 2025

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Backstage/ Hallways
MOOD: curious

“I should,” River murmured, glancing down at the garment, already yearning to be free of the satin and tulle. But the thought of what she’d change into made her itch with irritation. Nothing fit properly. Everything she owned felt older than the theater itself. Still, with a quiet sigh, she pushed off from the wall, shifting her weight before ripping the pointe shoes from her feet. She didn’t care if she walked barefoot right now—the relief was worth it.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister Armand.” She paused, blinking as she realized she couldn’t recall his last name. “I apologize—I don’t remember your surname,” she admitted with a shrug, already swiping at the excess makeup with the palm of her hand.

As she scrubbed, more of her bare skin came into view—bruises, faint hollows of malnutrition, and the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. It was as if the sun had once kissed her there, only to leave behind tiny speckled reminders of its crime.

Without another word, she slipped out of the green room, pointe shoes dangling from her fingers by their ribbons. As she walked, she reached up to undo the painfully tight bun, sighing in relief as a cascade of bobby pins tumbled into her palm. “I swear the costumer wants to pop my head off with her bun-lacing skills,” she grumbled.

A thought lingered, pulling her brows together slightly as she glanced toward Armand.

“Does it hurt?” she asked suddenly, tilting her head slightly. “Biting, I mean. What does it feel like to feed? I suppose is a better way of asking.” Her fingers toyed with one of the loosened ribbons of her shoes as she spoke, hesitant yet curious.

“Better yet, you suggested I tasted sour, can I taste better? Has there ever been a mortal that you wish you could drink from forever?” her questions began to flow one after another, the lack of crowd around them only fueling her earlier talkative self coming into full view and the lack of bun only eased her more. “Do you eat from rodents or bats? Can you turn into a bat?” she gasped at the last question. “I apologize, that might have been insensitive to ask”

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Mar 19, 2025

When his hand went unshaken, he seemed a bit confused at himself more than anything- was the gesture too professional..? He glanced down at it momentarily, but quickly shook that thought off to focus on the woman before him as he pulled his hand close to himself again and rested it by the rim of his pants instead, keeping that smile that only grew wider when he saw her relieve herself of the admittedly awkward looking shoes.

"Oh sod off with the 'Mister's, you.", he couldn't help but try to push back with the same energy when she had already begun to clean her own face up, appearing to rather get this over and done with sooner than later. "I did never make it all that well known. It's Silvertongue. Missed opportunity to go for Silverfang almost, I know.", he rolled his eyes preemptively at the joke he'd heard a thousand times and expected to hear a thousand times more, huffing with a joking exasperation.

The smile remained on his face, but he knew well enough that the marks on her face hidden under the makeup... those weren't good or endearing. The only endearing thing about them was that he'd help make them go away, as much as his little influence could. It all started with getting her out of her mother's stranglehold, and the both of them out of this death theater where every play was one step closer to so many other peoples' inevitable demise, the fate sealed for them the moment they stepped into the building.

But even with those marks, there was something so liberating about getting to just see River for who she really was. Hopefully, there was something similar about the difference in how he had the privilege to act around her, over how he acted around everyone else too. They'd seen each other at their lowest, the least they could do was show off their 'vulnerable' sides, for all that mattered.

And it appeared her mind was going off much in the same direction as she mentioned his feeding from others, quickly snapping back to reality as he almost groaned out of surprise. "W-Well, I-", there wasn't enough time to even process that question before the next. Or the next... or the next. It was kind of hard to think about all of them back to back, but some did boil down to common misconceptions about 'vampires' based on folklore and word of mouth, so he figured it wasn't too much to really think about at the end of the day.

Coughing to clear his throat as the two of them slowly walked along the hallway, he tried to figure out a way to sort them in his head and put them out there for River too. "Ahem, so... Biting doesn't hurt, but... it definitely makes my body sting a little. It's hard to describe, but a sense of excitement maybe? Your hairs stand at their edges and you feel your guts churning with excitement as much as they do with disgust... it's a very 'guilty' thrill more often than not, like you're siphoning life right into your mouth but not without its cost."

...

"Th-That was rather grim, I apologise.", Armand exhaled with some disappointment at himself, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and huffing loudly. And then the matter of taste... it was hard to speak of it without sounding macabre, but. "As for taste... if you mark a human, you 'invert' the problem. Your mark becomes sweeter to yourself, all the while other of your kin and below grow averse to your own taste. Maybe because we're both marked, it tasted worse than it otherwise would have.", it wasn't the sweetest sentiment to have, but the way he finished it off with an almost melancholic smile... it was definitely his own way of complimenting her.

A thought he didn't let linger for much longer as he skipped over one of her questions and went right to the questionable ones. "A-Animal blood though..? I suppose I could, but my mind has never been too attracted to snuffing wildlife for food... not that I've ever had to, but rats and bats of all things? And what's that about being able to turn into a bat? Why would I-", a deep sigh of surrender followed, alongside a moment or two of silence and a blank stare into the distance before he lit up again.

"... What about you, does drinking blood make you feel fuller? And have you ever bitten someone before, just for the hell of it? Seen what happens when you do?"

... it was not him lighting up with genius, and that's a fact. "Actually, have you ever wanted to drink someone's blood before, or is that just not something you normally ever do?"

---

Location: Backstage -> Hallways
Mood: Joyful

EclecticSpica · Mar 19, 2025

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Hallways
MOOD: teasing

River blinked in awe, transfixed as Armand answered each of her questions with ease. Her hair, now free from its confines of a tight bun and braid, fell in a chaotic tangle of waves and curls, giving her a more relaxed, carefree look. The change in her demeanor was unmistakable as she felt her mood lift, lightened by his calm, effortless responses. By the time he turned her questions back onto her, River clasped a hand over her mouth, a soft, melodic burst of laughter escaping her lips soon after.
Somehow, she was laughing—purely, gently—and despite the sound being broken and unused, it was real. It warmed the dim, gloomy hallway around them.

“I see, so it is offensive to ask these questions?” she asked, her voice growing warmer as she giggled, moving her focus ahead of them and idly playing with the pile of bobby pins in her hands.

“I’m human. I don’t drink blood.” She shrugged casually, as though the idea didn’t bother her. “The only time I’ve tasted it is when my own lip gets busted open or I cut my cheek. The taste isn’t pleasant at all—metallic, bitter.”

Her tone was light, but she paused, considering something before adding, “I’d rather not taste someone else’s blood. I imagine it would be just the same. But maybe a vampire’s blood would be different.”

She twisted her head up toward him, a mischievous grin creeping across her face.

“However,” she continued, a teasing glint in her eyes, “I don’t know if I can trust someone with the surname Silvertongue. His blood would probably taste like silver and lies—hardly a good start.” She let out another snort of laughter, stretching her arms high above her head as she savored the simple stretch.

“Will the bite you gave me heal?” she asked, her voice taking on a more curious tone. “Or is it like the demon mark—stuck for eternity? Will you have to reapply it?” She considered the thought of enduring that sensation again, a small blush coloring her cheeks as the implications dawned on her.

But then, something caught her attention.

“Wait,” River said, gasping dramatically, her teasing nature taking over as she stepped cautiously away from him, instinctively hiding her chest and neck as best she could. “You grow excited when you drink? Almost like an euphoric excitement?” Her eyes twinkled with humor, and she couldn’t stop the playful grin curling at the corners of her lips. “A lustful excitement, one could claim?” She accused him with mock outrage. “Pervert!”

Her grin widened as she dared a glance back, her words hanging in the air, a challenge and a jest all in one.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Mar 20, 2025

His smile wasn't going away, and perhaps for the first time in a long while, he could feel his cheeks starting to hurt. When was it that he last felt something like this, this pleasant warmth building up in his chest as he simply got to enjoy someone else's company? "N-No, it's not offensive, I'm just flabbergasted you even thought of them to begin with. What's that about turning into a bat all about, what even gave you that idea?", as Armand spoke, her rather infectious laughter did its work and got the man chuckling right along too, raising a hand to his mouth once more to cover it and try to not get too loud, though the hallways had long now filled with boisterous laughter compared to the dull silence of before.

It seemed even his deliberately outlandish questions managed to draw out a proper response from her though as she spoke of blood's taste as odd and... metallic? That was nothing like what it had tasted to him, not that he would know what a metallic flavor was but bitter... no, that was a different taste, too. What knocked him off this train of thought was her mention of his own blood, making him grin. "Ah, I see you went for the unpopular joke number two then, a choice most delightful.", he sarcastically congratulated her with a slow clap of his hands once or twice before he burst into laughter, quickly putting himself in line again and with a few coughs, trying to lower the tone of his voice as he left it to that warm smile instead.

"The bite will heal. The mark stays, but bites aren't made to inflict damage, they're just our way of feeding. It should be a lot faster than an animal bite to heal too, from what I hear, they're intended to be as unobtrusive as possible. Think back to what I mentioned about 'vampires'' marks. To think that's the name you lot have picked out for us though...", the last tidbit was more of a mumble to himself as he shook his head in slight disapproval, though he didn't seem all that bothered by it really.

And then, she seemed to hit a weak spot once again. As she began to cover her own body, despite her smile, the descriptors she used for his situation were definitely... well, enough to sneak past his defenses, for a start. "W-Wait, no, it's not like-", the blush on her face from prior was mimicked on his own as he raised both his hands defensively towards her, his breathing slightly sharper as he tried to think of a way to best 'diffuse' the 'situation' before him. "That's not what I- Er... It is that sort of excitement, but not in that way! Place and time, and-"

Stammering about, his blush was only darkening further and further as he let out a deep exhale, shaking his head and letting it hang for a moment. For his kind, it was always like kissing a human when they bit into one but refused to finish a job. To think he did so unwillingly or rather unknowingly, to one he'd keep alive nonetheless... and she had already caught on too, right? He raised his head just enough to look at her eyes, though that mocking look as she was simply trying to tease him quickly sank in and his blush began to fade. "... You... you're just messing around you little-"

What sounded like a scolding underway quickly broke up into laughter as he cackled at both his own embarrassment and her own successful attempt at working him up. "What is up with this girl? This energy of hers... why hadn't I noticed her any earlier, before the accident?", he wondered as the two's slowed pace had led to them taking quite some time to reach where they wanted to, starting with whichever's dorm was closest. Though the hallway was unfamiliar to Armand, it was definitely much less so to River whose quarters were inching closer with every single step, slowly signaling their run-in's curtain call.

---

Location: Hallways
Mood: Joyful/Embarassed

EclecticSpica · Mar 20, 2025

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Hallways
MOOD: humorous/ neutral

River snorted out more laughter, her sides hurting in a way that didn’t feel unpleasant for once. It was a feeling of freedom—something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Oh, so it is that kind of excitement?” she teased further, her laughter growing as she caught the flush on his cheeks. Her steps carried her just a bit further ahead, just out of reach in case he decided to do something… unexpected. Though her posture didn’t suggest she thought he would harm her, years of experience had taught her to always prepare for the worst.
River rubbed at her right cheek, wincing slightly. The act of smiling caused a little sting, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant—just another reminder that even pain could feel different at times. “The bat myth? Hmm, I’m not sure where it comes from. I just know it’s mentioned in the same breath as witches flying on brooms,” she shrugged, answering one of his earlier questions. Her smile faded into a more neutral expression as she neared her dorm space.

“I suppose if you could fly, you would have left much sooner, huh?” she mused aloud, her voice softening with the thought. “Maybe like anyone else in here would’ve,” she added, tilting her head as she heard the distant chatter of her roommates and neighbors through closed doors.

River let out a long sigh, already missing the quiet that his dressing room had granted her, even for just a moment. “It must be nice to be an actor with a dressing room,” she muttered, half to herself. “Even if you do have a questionable smelling item in the corner.” Her eyes flicked up to him, a cautious wink slipping through to show she hadn’t been so daft earlier as to miss it.

She shook her head with a little groan, her thoughts shifting again. “I find it hard to sleep around here,” she admitted, her voice lowering with a touch of frustration. “Everyone’s got their own unique sleeping patterns. And if they aren’t gossiping about one-night flings, someone’s always complaining about something else.” She could already imagine the inevitable wails of some broken heart, and it made her wish for the silence of the dressing room all over again.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Mar 20, 2025

Being asked if he could turn into a bat was already enough to shatter his fragile mind once, but getting told that the myth said witches could fly on brooms... now that boggled his mind even further. "Witches are known to do what now? Have... you ever met a witch?", he asked with more entertainment laced in his words than anything, chuckling before she began to grow rather melancholic. Much like her laughter, that mood too was infectious and got to the man, especially when his 'questionable item' was brought into question.

Looking away from her and almost frowning as the brightness on his face dimmed a little, he nodded slowly and raised a hand to rub the back of his head with... was it guilt? He had little to really speak for himself when it came to her instigative look. "That would be an Armand special, I'm afraid. Few others if any have that same displeasure.", despite his discomfort with his own predicament, it appeared that his words at the very least were quite genuine.

Come think of it, she had her own dorm unlike him. The dressing room was large enough to accommodate his needs, given his extenuating circumstances she wasn't yet privy to... probably. "I never knew the private life of the staff involved carnal desire all that much too, that'd be fascinating the first time. I can't imagine it going down all too well the next hundreds or so.", an awkward laugh followed as he tried to imagine himself in her shoes, and quickly after realised he'd much rather not. "If you can ever find an excuse to come on over to my dressing room, you're free to use my more secluded resting area too. As long as you can stomach the scent."

Though he spoke more shyly, curtly almost with the end of his offer, he coughed to clear his throat and stepped back to take a small bow. Any more of this and all of that laughter they'd so happily shared would be rendered null under the bitterness of whatever topics could follow their current shared train of thought. "If you ever need anything, you know where to find me, if not during rehearsals. I'll be doing my best to keep an eye on you, too.", the man did his best to reassure her, smiling before he gestured towards his dressing room in the hallway to signal his departure.

"Until tomorrow then... rest as well as you can. And if you ever were to get a sweet tooth... I might or might not know a place.", a parting joke with a playful wink, and with his steps clicking against the wood, filling the once more quiet hallways, he made his way to the dressing rooms again.

"Little should be different with the escape plan now. We'll just have to be a bit more careful, and then... I'm saving one more person with me.", this opportunity, as much of a burden as it was on him... it made his heart warm up, pleasantly. As if he were making up for himself, one step at a time. One act of kindness whenever the opportunity reared its head.

---

Location: Hallways
Mood: Pleased

EclecticSpica · Mar 20, 2025

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Outside Armand’s Dressing Room
MOOD: tired / neutral

"Goodnight, Armand," River whispered to his back before twisting into the dorm room. The moment she stepped inside, she winced—her arrival was met with a sudden chorus of squeals and excited chatter.
Her frown deepened within seconds. The excitement wasn’t over gossip this time but rather the morbid thrill of rummaging through a dead girl’s belongings. Someone had found the dancer’s things still intact, and the others were already dividing them up like scavengers picking through a carcass.

A sour taste crept into River’s mouth. She said nothing, merely sidestepped the group and moved to her corner of the room, where she began peeling off the stuffy, constricting costume. The material left her skin prickled with irritation, and she wasted no time changing into the only comfortable garment she owned—a simple nightgown made of scratchy, well-worn cotton. The frayed edges and faded yellow tint spoke of years of use, but once she layered it with a large, woolen blue sweater, the world felt just a little bit softer.

But comfort came with a price. She had to remove the accessories from her costume, and that meant exposing what was beneath. The usual bruises, a collection of dull purples and faded yellows, were already forming on her skin. But as she stole a glance into the small mirror by her bedside, something new caught her attention.

River tilted her head, fingers brushing over the fresh puncture wounds on her neck. The marks were small, but unmistakable. And already, they were healing. She narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering how something that healed so quickly was supposed to serve as a mark. How long before it disappeared completely? And more importantly, how was she supposed to get rid of the damn thing?

She pursed her lips and sighed, dragging a brush through her tangled hair with enough force to tame the chaos. It wasn’t enough to fully hide her neck, but it was something. The laughter and excited squeals in the background continued, grating on her nerves, but she didn’t have the energy to tell them to shut up.

It was going to be a horribly long night.

By the time the clock struck two in the morning, silence had finally fallen over the dormitory. Well, mostly. The room was now filled with the soft snores of her sleeping roommates, accompanied by the occasional muttered word or sigh from whatever pleasant dreams they were having.

River, however, remained wide awake. Sleep refused to come. Her mind replayed the day’s events over and over—the sensation of being so close to freedom, only to have it wrenched away and replaced with the cold, creeping weight of resignation. The kind of exhaustion that went beyond physical. The kind that settled in her bones and didn’t leave.

She exhaled softly, pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders. He did say something about sweets.

The thought was enough to push her to her feet. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was already slipping out of the dorm, navigating the dark hallways with practiced ease. Her footsteps were as silent as ever, her eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light. Before she knew it, she stood in front of Armand’s dressing room once more.

River hesitated, her fingers ghosting over her throat. She could still feel the precise spot where his fangs had sunk into her skin. Well, based on the time, it had technically been yesterday.

Her gaze lingered on the door as she lifted her hand and rapped twice against the wooden frame. The sound was barely more than a whisper in the quiet hallway.

"Armand?" she called softly, wondering if he had already gone to sleep.

Then, a thought struck her. Do vampires even sleep?

She frowned slightly, debating whether or not that was an appropriate question to ask next. Probably not.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Mar 20, 2025

While River had to deal with the horrible behavior that her own co-dancers put on display, Armand's night was a lot more peaceful... as far as others were concerned. There was a sad sensation washing over him as it filled the lonely corridors, with not a single breath breaking the silence only his footsteps dared interrupt. As he placed his hand on the brass door knob, he let out a deep sigh and turned it, entering the dimly lit dressing room as he let his eyes adjust to the darkness for a few moments.

And closing the door behind him, his only company now was himself. He walked up to his mirror, unable to see his very own reflection as he quietly looked at the blank frame and raised a hand between his face and it, inspecting it in silence. "... Having someone else around really changes everything."

This positivity, these sweet feelings and warm heart flutters she allowed him to experience alongside her today... these meant so much to him, to finally be able to smile without it being practiced, carefully catered to look welcoming and attract his peers. "I'll get her out of here. Safely.", he closed his hand and his eyes, exhaling deeply as he placed another hand on his chest, feeling his own accelerated heartrate. His metabolism wasn't quite the same as a human's, and his heart was always racing compared to a 'normal person's. And yet, it almost matched for a brief moment, bringing a smile to his face.

A smile that began to fade when he turned to look at the curtain splitting his room and hiding whatever let out that ugly smell. As many things as they had in common, there were so many more that simply never would be. This too, was a dream he could never see through.

...

It was late at night, and he was having that same vision, that same dream as earlier when they fled to the backstage after the accident. Everything was slow, dark, quiet... almost serene. Looking around, the room he was in wasn't so much a room as it was a hall- some sort of ground floor to a home, maybe? He could see a pair of two beautiful sets of stairs that curved along the hall, leading to a mezzanine.

That peaceful atmosphere that the moonlight seeping in through the windows helped create only seemed to begin cracking with every instance of that horrid dripping noise. He raised his head, and yet it was too dark to tell what he was looking at. But something was falling down. One drop after the next, he approached the small pools forming on the ground and that intoxicating smell filling his nostrils... he could already tell what it was-

"Armand?"

With a gasp, he snapped back to reality and managed to break out of that trance, his mouth feeling sticky all around. "What the-", he panicked a little, but once he realised who that voice belonged to, he made a quick effort to tidy up and be a good host- not to leave a good impression, but rather because he wanted to. Within a minute he had made his way to the door and quietly opened it, smiling down at the girl in the nightgown with a slight red smear at one of the corners on his lips. "Couldn't get any shuteye?"

He asked as he took a step back and let the door open in full, gesturing for her to come on inside as he sighed out with relief almost and made sure to close the door behind her once she'd entered, keeping his tone low to not make too much noise and get anyone else's attention. "It's sometime at night, isn't it? What happened?", the man asked as he crossed his arms, having taken his vest off from earlier and keeping in his shirt and some less smart looking pants. That was as close as he got to 'nighttime clothing' when he knew he'd be limiting his activity by a fair bit to let everyone else sleep proper.

But inspecting her up and down... that smile of his returned again as he let out a low, endearing chuckle. "That nightgown looks good on you. But your skin..."

---

Location: Armand's Dressing Room
Mood: Panicked/Happy

EclecticSpica · Mar 20, 2025

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Armand’s Dressing Room
MOOD: embarrassed

River debated turning back when a moment passed with no response. Perhaps he was asleep. Or ignoring her. Either way, she was on the verge of retreating when the door suddenly swung open.
She barely had time to register the movement before she was met with the sight of Armand—breathless, disheveled, and staring at her like she had startled him. Her eyes widened in return, instinctively tilting her head as she squinted, trying to decipher what exactly was wrong.

But she didn’t get the chance to ask. In the next instant, she was being rushed inside, the door shutting firmly behind her.

River clutched her sweater tighter around herself, momentarily disoriented as she took in the dimly lit dressing room. The air here was still—a stark contrast to the suffocating noise of the dormitory. It was an immediate relief, even if the smell in this space was now much more apparent. She blinked, turning her attention back to him, then gave a small nod.

"They were dividing up the dancer’s belongings," she murmured, voice hushed. "And now everyone is sleeping like nothing happened. I can’t even close my eyes without seeing it." As she spoke, her gaze flickered over his face. There was something off about his expression—something she couldn’t quite place. Her curiosity deepened, but before she could ask, he said something that made her pause.

Her skin?

River glanced down at herself before huffing out a tense laugh. She held out an arm, rolling her eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of it. "Yes, well, not all of us are blessed with perfect skin and complexions," she muttered, a pout settling on her lips as she pulled her sweater tighter around herself. Then, her gaze sharpened. "Stop looking, or I will find Diane again and inform her that you’re up to nothing but crude and vulgar things."

Without waiting for a response, she stepped away, finding the nearest plush chair and sinking into it. She curled her legs beneath her, letting out a slow, exhausted breath as she finally allowed herself to relax.

"I’m staying here," she announced, head flopping against the armrest. "The smell is better than the hell of that dorm room right now. I cannot stand to hear another groan or moaned whisper of Roger." She rolled her eyes, exasperation settling deep in her bones. "Roger, I think, is one of the stagehands. Part ogre, if I recall. I don’t understand the fascination, and yet half of those women won’t shut up about how wonderful it would be to feel his hands wrapped around their waists." A dramatic gag followed as she buried her scowl into the fabric of the chair.

Then, as if remembering something, she peeked up at him again. Her next words came out quieter, edged with something she couldn’t quite name. "Also… you mentioned something about sweets." She hesitated, her fingers gripping the sleeve of her sweater. Heat prickled at her cheeks, her blue eyes darting away as she stubbornly glared at the floor. "I’m willing to be bribed."

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Mar 20, 2025

To think of her closest co-workers acting like vultures, all the while she had the closest to a front-row seat to the accident and person who died... even though he was quiet desensitized to death and more macabre topics, considering, it was still enough to get his hairs to stand at attention. Something about the animalistic image that naturally came to mind was just... unsettling. What could he even do in order to help her out- no, was there even anything he could do to help her?

With furrowed brows, he tried and tried to think but... it seemed her quippy side had gotten the best of her. From quips, to quite vague threats and then right on with a very shy admission of her secondary purpose behind the visit. It was enough to make the man smile as he raised his hands in surrender to the threats of Diane hearing out about his comments, making his way over to his dressing stand again as he began to look through it, opening a cupboard and seeing the slice of cake inside on its plate all proper. "Right. The best I can do for her, is just be there. Help her smile and forget herself. She wants to stay the night here, and that's okay. I can give her that much."

As he picked it up, he grinned and looked over his shoulder at River, holding it out alongside a little fork that they'd made sure to give him, almost coaxing him to take his time with it and 'enjoy' the only food that'd make him vomit effortlessly. "Yeah, I heard there was some celebration earlier. It's almost like... I had too much cake or so. Shame I can't stomach more, if only, right?", he rolled his eyes and spoke in such a cheesy manner, one would never properly guess that he's an actor hearing him now. "I sure hope noone takes this off my hands and makes it vanish through witchcraft or so."

Waiting for her to take the plate off his hands and dig right on in, he tried to run his mind back to that 'ogre of a man' she had mentioned prior. Though he knew a lot of his colleagues by name, it would appear she... might have been right earlier. There was a good possibility that he did, in fact, not pay much attention to those he wasn't immediately interested in. After all, just keeping his sanity in one piece alone took all he had.

Frowning, he felt that same sensation as prior, the stickiness smeared all over the corner of his lips. Ah shoot, he liked at his finger and quickly began to rub away, hoping to remove the smudge before the dried blood could unsettle River all too much and make her feel uncomfortable again. "S-Sorry, you caught me at an odd hour.", Armand spoke rather matter-of-factly and huffed, trying to bring the discussion back to the brute than linger on this topic. If he could help it, that is.

"I can't remember what he looks like, but... ogres aren't quite known for their looks usually, are they?", he asked her with an uncertain grunt, rubbing the back of his neck to help stave some awkwardness off. "Does he have a dancing role in cooperation with you lot, or is that just how... they 'swoon' over their co-workers here?"

---

Location: Armand's Dressing Room
Mood: Awkward

EclecticSpica · Friday at 4:58 AM

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Armand’s Dressing Room
MOOD: happy / teasing

River brightened instantly at the sight of the cake, a soft whisper of thanks leaving her lips as she accepted it. She didn’t rush—each small bite was deliberate, slow, and indulgent. The sweetness sent pleasant shivers through her, warming her from the inside out. With every forkful, a little more life returned to her face, a faint glow settling in her eyes. Which meant she was listening intently as Armand spoke. Her gaze flicked over to him, thoughtful, before narrowing slightly. There was blood at the corner of his mouth. River tilted her head, but his apology pulled her focus back. She merely shrugged, unconcerned. "You’re watching me eat," she pointed out, lazily twirling her fork in the air. "I don’t see why the reverse should be apology-worthy." With an airy wave of her hand, she dismissed the notion entirely.

"If anything, I should be apologizing for interrupting your meal. But if you’d like to continue, by all means—go ahead. I don’t plan on judging." Satisfied with her verdict, she turned her attention back to the cake, a small smile forming as she licked a bit of frosting off the fork.

She ate in thoughtful silence, mulling over Roger and the collective fascination surrounding him. Then, with her fork still in her mouth, she paused, considering Armand’s theory. Finally, she shook her head. "No, he isn’t attractive" she mumbled around her full mouth before swallowing. Setting the fork down for a moment, she held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. "It’s the fingers," she clarified, her expression deadpan. "Big. Wide." She gave them another exaggerated wiggle before rolling her eyes again. "It’s nothing but dirty-minded rabble. Truthfully, it’s disgusting. I cannot fathom why that would be considered enjoyable after a moment of pure terror."

She huffed, stabbing at her cake as if it had personally offended her. "He doesn’t dance or anything like that," she added between chews. "I think he works with the catwalk? He’s strong—handles the ropes that lift the curtains and all that." Then, as if just remembering something, she glanced back up at Armand, an impish grin creeping across her face. "That said…" Her voice dipped into something teasing. "You still hold the title of most attractive cast member, so I wouldn’t worry, your highness." She smirked, letting the words linger in the air just long enough to ensure he felt them.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Friday at 5:52 PM

When she spoke about him continuing his meal, a look of remorse quickly took over his face as he shook his head and though his face was now clean, he simply made an effort to wipe at the corners of his mouth once again, just in case. "No, it's alright. I'm feeling rather full, really.", the only thing that could betray his lies was a growl of the stomach, but that was more a human function than a vampire's. Just the thought of those same images, that same abhorrent dream slowly fading back into his mind... he didn't want to take his chances with occurrences like that.

Instead, he focused on the moment, much like River seemed to be. His eyes idled on the fork, following it along and watching her take the cake piece by piece into her mouth. Though that 'sweet' texture would have made his body reject the food right away and spit it right back out, she seemed more than happy to be eating the dessert. His attention was grabbed by her words though as they became less and less unclear the more she elaborated. Rolling her eyes and sounding tired with her own colleagues, she now had the company of the sighing Armand as he shook his head and placed a hand on his forehead, shaking his head silently.

"I really try not to speak ill of others, but... is it too late to call them hedonistic harpies, perhaps?"

Late, maybe not. Too theatrical, most definitely. A think he quickly noticed as he gave it a moment and tried to think of a much less fancy way to share his thoughts. Ah, there. "Dear gods, they're hideous."

As her voice dipped, he lowered his hand and raised his head again to raise an eyebrow at her, a red tint beginning to appear on his cheeks as the realisation settled in. If they were already thinking like this about some backstage with what sounded like zero involvement on his own... "P-Pray tell, you haven't had the displeasure of hearing anything along those lines about me, have you?", by this point River had all but confirmed that she could get under his skin on command, her attempt having succeeded once more.

Seeing her smile was good, but knowing exactly what she was smiling over in this case was more reason for half-joking concern than otherwise. "Wait, what the hells do you mean the 'title of most attractive'- Do you lot hold polls or something whenever I'm not looking?", from the odd comments about Roger, the poor sod, to every little minute thing they could be talking about during their off-time... did these people have nothing better to do? No, did they not have any more pressing issues on their minds?

Part of him was happy at the ignorance and the bliss that came with it. Another... that too was happy, knowing that he wouldn't have to ponder or think about the fellow staff members for much longer, and neither would River. No more ruined nights, and no more noise in the dressing rooms or dorms. These thoughts did little to hold a small smile back, and he even opened his mouth as if to ask something before ultimately swallowing his question right back down. For now, he had to allow curiosity to take the wheel. "Well, go on!"

---

Location: Armand's Dressing Room
Mood: Flustered/Curious

EclecticSpica · Saturday at 12:13 AM

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Armand’s Dressing Room
MOOD: curious

River snorted at Armand’s growing concern, her eyes glinting with teasing delight. Instead of answering right away, she took an exaggeratedly slow bite of cake, dragging out the silence as long as possible. She savored every moment, letting the tension build, drawing out his anticipation like a cat toying with its prey.
Only once she’d swallowed did she finally move, deliberately wiping her mouth, licking her fingers clean, and even running her tongue over the last bit of frosting on the fork. Then, with a bright, innocent smile, she set the plate aside and turned her full attention back to him.

"You have to have the biggest ego and the smallest ego at the same time," she said at last, laughter bubbling in her voice. The reaction on his face only made her grin widen.

She shook her head and shrugged. "I don’t really know how it’s decided. I thought it was determined after someone slept with another member—like an unspoken rule. I just assumed you’d flirted or, you know… done something with someone who then deemed you the most attractive."

Her tone was casual, dismissive, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"They don’t talk to me," she added with a wave of her hand. "So I don’t get to enjoy the logistics of it all. Not that I think I’d want to. Maybe in another lifetime—or if I wasn’t currently bound to both a demon and a vampire—I’d find myself caring about who I want to sweep me off my feet or buy me flowers."

She rolled her eyes, shifting in her chair, pulling her legs up beneath her until she was seated cross-legged, facing him directly. "But that being said," she continued, tone shifting slightly, "what exactly is your escape plan?"

She leaned forward, head tilting in curiosity. "I think I’d feel a lot better trusting you if I actually understood what that plan was." Then, as if realizing she had more questions than time, she rattled them off in quick succession. "How long does this mark last? Do you think they’ll vanish once we leave the theater? And what about after—do you have some grand plan waiting for you beyond all this?"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, waiting, before exhaling and sinking back slightly. "I don’t exactly have a plan once we escape," she admitted, voice quieter now. "I don’t have any real talents outside of dancing. And I don’t have family to turn to either, except my mother." A visible shudder ran through her at the mere mention of the woman. River shook her head, dismissing the thought just as quickly as it had come.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Sunday at 5:05 PM

Her slow and deliberate moves were working their magic and driving him insane with curiosity as intended, leaving him befuddled when she finally spoke up about him having quite the ego as he furrowed both brows and crossed his arms, shaking his head in denial from side to side. "I very much do not have a big ego, thank you!", it was almost like he tried to talk back, though there was some hint of a joke in his voice. That hint did leave after the casual dismissal, not wanting to be thought of as another dancer's successful fling or otherwise. "I wouldn't even dare, thank you once more! To hells with carnal desire, especially when it comes to-"

... wait, dancers? His face switched to a complete deadpan stare into the distance as he quickly realised who was most likely to have shared compromising rumors in Diane, sighing and placing a palm to his head in an exaggerated motion. Well, at least he'd managed to put two and two together for now...

And the questions that he'd found himself holding back from her only moments ago, were fired right back his way instead, the look in his eyes changing from one of nonchalance, basking in the mundane to that of a keen hunter, waiting for a window of opportunity. A much more deliberate look began to wear itself on his features as he remained quiet and took in every question one by one, figuring now was as good a time as ever to put his thoughts in order and present them however best he could.

Armand adjusted his stance, leaning on one of his hands as he placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully, tapping every so often and closing his eyes for a brief moment. Shallow inhales and exhales sounded from his nose as he raised and lowered his right shoe from thought to thought, bouncing between how to just make it all click together... This should be good enough.

"The doors that you tried to escape through right by my dressing room. Those are locked and the key has been destroyed for quite some time now, but I can try and recreate it with enough blood.", he opened his green eyes to look down at his fingers, having moved his hand from his chin forwards and softly pressing his index and thumb together before he shot a glance to the curtains behind him, though his motion was hesitant. "... I'll have to force myself to finish my meal and then some.", a near begrudging matter prior to turning to look at River, smiling slightly. "You won't need to bleed any, rest assured."

...

"I'd be lying if I told you exactly what's behind the doors, but... through the corridor, it should lead to some emergency exit that was built a good while back, according to some floor plans I put together after finding their torn remains. Fred or one of the other clawed bums must have made short work of them during that dreadful rehearsal some months ago. The one where Diane sprained her ankle.", their bothersome shouts back and forth still echoed clearly enough in his ears to make out... he hissed with annoyance, bringing the hand back up to his head.

"Either way, there's no door at the exit and if there's locks or chains of any manner... I should be able to break them regardless. Though it has been a while since I was last fully fed.", the last thing he wanted was to build expectations that he couldn't hold up. But the good news were that she was never a part of the plan in the first place- it didn't hitch on needing to change it per the number of people trying it either way. This should all proceed smoothly, but the window of opportunity... right.

Shifting his weight from one hip to the other, he crossed both arms and nodded before looking at the dressing table, on one of the pocketwatches he wore with a chain on his vest every so often. "Right. If we tried anything, we'd get caught pretty quickly. But I've noticed the fiend enjoys taking his time with his meals. Every rehearsal, it's always ten minutes after the curtain call that any order is given to do anything in particular. I assume that's how long it takes for him to feed, collect, and... so on. Much like he did with our colleague earlier today."

His voice turned more bitter as he lowered his gaze to the floor, huffing and muttering something quietly under his breath. "We're going to sneak off stage during that time and make our way right back here. From there, everything goes off perfectly and we're out.", so was the seamless plan.

Taking a few steps towards his table, he quietly looked at one of the stools that had been shoved under it, more worn with its fabric scratched up and frayed at the seams. The storage was right beside them, so why even store it over? Dragging it out from the table's cover, the vampire lowered himself to sit down across River and silently stared into her eyes as he leaned forwards, resting his elbows against his knees and weaving his hands together, twiddling with his thumbs in thought.

"I... don't know anything about the demon mark. I have my doubts, hence we made a contract ourselves... or under your mother, in your case. But that's the first thing I'll be taking care of once I'm out."

... the first thing. What was the second? There wasn't one. "I'll see what I'll do from there. Admittedly, it feels like something is just... slipping me, for however long I've been here. There's something I need to remember and I just... don't. It's always bugging me, on the tip of my tongue, and it just doesn't come out.", the slight annoyance and concern in his voice gave away how much this was bothering him.

"After that, it's whatever life has to offer to an 'immortal' fool like yours truly, I'm afraid.", could that be the goal he'd set for now? And for her? His eyes softened as he scanned up and down the undernourished girl's form, trying to think of a plan. Regaining one's memory surely wouldn't be a short feat, so until he figured what was up with him... he lowered his arms, sighing and pushing himself up from the seat to stand and take slow steps towards her.

"If you have nowhere to go... why don't we see if we can figure anything out in the meantime? I couldn't live with myself letting you get hurt because I dropped you off to your mother either. Not with my mark on your neck.", as he stopped before her, he frowned and rather than look at her, lowered his gaze completely to the floor. "... and I wouldn't want that either. I really wouldn't. So let's work things out together?", the edges of his lips turned upwards as he extended a hand almost shyly for her, his eyes rising to try and meet her own too, seeking her permission to assist in whatever way he could.

---

Location: Armand's Dressing Room
Mood: Nervous/Determined

EclecticSpica · Sunday at 7:38 PM

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Armand’s Dressing Room
MOOD: curious

River nodded slowly at Armand’s plan, though her frown deepened as she stared at his outstretched hand. Instead of shaking it, she simply poked at his palm, pressing down and watching it bounce back up with idle fascination. "So you have a feeling of a plan," she murmured, letting out a deep sigh. Folding her arms tightly against her chest, she tilted her head, swaying slightly as she mulled over his suggestions. More questions surfaced in her mind, only to be answered by her own reasoning before she could even voice them. "We could recreate the key... or we could just lockpick it," she offered, absentmindedly twirling a curl between her fingers. "I end up with a head full of bobby pins every day, and while it’s been a while since I last tried picking a lock, I’m fairly confident I could manage it in a somewhat timely manner." Dropping the curl, she leaned in slightly. "Or we could unlock it ahead of time and just leave it that way until we’re ready to go?" She glanced at him, gauging his reaction before shifting topics entirely.

"I understand why you don’t want to feed from me, and I do appreciate it—especially now that I know you..." She waved a hand at him in an erratic motion. "React the way you do." Her lips twitched slightly at the understatement, but she pressed on. "That said, if taking sips from me would be useful before our escape, I’m willing to offer myself. Consider it a form of payment, a thank you for helping me." She shrugged, as if the offer wasn’t significant, though her fingers tightened around her own arms as she spoke.

Then, as the thought of the outside world fully took hold, a small, eager smile flickered onto her lips. The idea of freedom—of stepping into the sunlight, walking through crowds, going wherever she pleased—seemed almost impossible. Just yesterday, she wouldn’t have dared to hope. "Maybe I should walk down dark corridors more often if this is the kind of luck it brings," she mused with a quiet laugh.

Her gaze flicked back to Armand. "So, you also have no real plan for once we leave. And thanks to some tasteful memory loss, you don’t even know what you’ll be like on the outside."

She tapped her fingers together, nodding slowly as she worked through the implications. "Maybe you gave those memories up as part of your contract with the demon. If they come rushing back, you might be in for a lot of pain... or maybe regret."

Pausing, she studied him, then tilted her head. "What’s your plan if you suddenly want to return?" Before he could answer, she scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind, I’ll answer for you—I’ll make sure you don’t do anything that stupid." She grinned at him, though the expression wavered slightly as a familiar, irritating itch flared against her skin.

With a sigh, she scratched at the bite mark, only to pause as warmth crept up her cheeks. Why did it keep doing that? Shaking it off, she cleared her throat. "I’d also really like to know how we’re supposed to get rid of this marking of yours."

Her fingers brushed over the spot again, her expression twisting in frustration. "Not that I don’t appreciate not being hunted down for sport, but I’d rather not be magically tied to someone I barely know." She hesitated, then softened slightly. "Not that you aren’t a wonderful sort—it’s just..." She exhaled, trying to find the right words. "I imagine being marked to a human isn’t ideal for you either. And I’m definitely not looking to be someone’s on-call meal for the rest of my life."

Wincing at her own bluntness, she cleared her throat again, looking down. "Sorry. That was rude," she muttered, sighing.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Monday at 2:36 PM

Seeing his hand poked at, he frowned a little and watched it bounce back like it wasn't his limb either. So much for a good gesture, he grumbled as he moved the hand back to hold his own neck awkwardly, rubbing back and forth with a shake of disapproval at her idea to lockpick instead. "Preparing the lock would be unwise. The few times people have come on over, it's been to check the locks the moment they were remotely touched. Be it an insect, that poor sod of a cleaner that joined recently or some unwise soul on an escape attempt...", a bit of her own sarcasm was reflected back to herself, though on a more playful note as he coughed to clear his throat.

"And for lockpicking... that would probably take us too long. Unless you were some serial burglar specialising in breaking and entering before your mother signed you off to the theater, you'd take too long. As much as I wish the corridor behind that lock is empty and a few seconds sprint before we reach our 'last potential block', that's just wishful thinking. Always prepare for the worst.", it would hurt to hear him turn down her idea so absolutely, but he had good reason for putting things forwards as he did. And as much as he'd like to show why he was certain recreating the key to fit the lock would be faster... he didn't have anything to demonstrate it with nearby, nor enough blood as he was right now. She'd just have to trust him on it as things were.

The way she posed some of the rest of it though would have stung, if not for her always having been rough around the edges. The man shifted his stance and slowly took a few steps back until he was sat on his stool again, crossing his arms and keeping a straightened back, his chest almost puffed out, as were his cheeks with complaint. "... It's not memory loss per se. I just... feel like I'm forgetting something important. I know fully well how I was when I was a free man, mind you. But...", Armand paused, pursing his lips in thought.

"I can't remember why I even joined the theater in the first place. And I think the reason was very important.", he admitted in a low murmur mostly to himself, biting on the inside of his cheeks as he exhaled.

The idea she proposed- that he had given up those memories of his own volition- sounded plausible, but... it was a bit farfetched, wasn't it? Followed by an even more foolish proposal. "I'd rather be found dead than back in here if I ever step foot outside, thank you verily.", he confirmed her own want for him to do nothing stupid, letting out an exasperated sigh that quickly relieved itself as he saw that grin. He remained quiet, but the smile that crept onto his features was appreciation in its entirety.

...

"I-", words didn't quite come as easy on how to answer her last few concerns. Was he meant to tell her about the mark being permanent, or should he lie to comfort her? "... We'll find something for that mark, surely.", his mouth seemed to almost act on its own, though he quickly began to feel remorse and shook his head a few moments after speaking.

"R-Rather... I'm not sure it can be removed. Your fate should have been sealed when I bit you. I'm sorry again about that.", hearing her thoughts about this situation as she saw herself like no more than an 'on-call meal' didn't make his already apologetic tone any less so. Instead, he remained silent for a bit and crossed his legs in his seat. "We'll hopefully get to know each other a bit better, then. If we can find a way to change things, then...", that was sadly the best compromise he could offer her right now.

"I've been able to survive on little blood before. You won't need to hear me call you often, I reassure you.", it wasn't in his plans to 'live large' and enjoy a life full of 'good food' once he was out there, either. His biggest concern lied on trying to figure some way out to make himself- and her by proxy- untraceable by the demon they were presently still in a contract with. After that was over and done with, then he'd stop seeing himself as someone simply surviving, barely making it by. Even so... he'd have to put in some extra effort for her.

His eyes kept scanning over her bruises, her pale skin, the signs of malnutrition... all of these years had left some marks she would need a while and some good care to be rid of. And in her sorry state, even if she were to break free, she wouldn't be able to take care of them on her own. It was presumptuous to assume she would want or allow him to, but right now... for better or for worse, she had no choice. He would care for her in much the same way she'd care for him. "I'll make sure you don't do anything stupid either, then.", he repeated lowly with that same small smile, sighing and making a gesture towards the cushioned furniture behind her, once a couch but now a makeshift bed more than anything.

"You think you'll be able to get some shuteye in all the peace and quiet over here? Morning won't be too long, you know."

---

Location: Armand's Dressing Room
Mood: Nervous

EclecticSpica · Monday at 5:28 PM

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Armand’s Dressing Room
MOOD: dreaming

River flinched at Armand’s bad news, each of her counterpoints met with either denial or an insurmountable obstacle. She absently rubbed at her neck, tracing the bite marks as she fell into deep thought. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
At last, she let out a long sigh, whatever inner turmoil she’d been wrestling with seemingly resolved. “When we get out,” she began, breaking the silence, her blue eyes shimmering with something rare—hope. She met his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper, as though confessing a secret she had long kept to herself. “I want to travel.”

A wistful smile ghosted her lips as she continued, “I’ve never really seen the world. I’ve always been kept in one cage or another, with only the smallest of windows to look through.” Her voice tightened with a wince, but she pressed on.

“I want to go shopping, hear the laughter of people who are actually happy, see a real river—what it looks like, how it moves. I want to see the birds whose songs I’ve always heard but never laid eyes on. I want to see the stars, the moon, feel rain on my skin, and if I’m lucky, maybe even touch snow.” The list tumbled out of her like a long-held dream, her smile growing as she shrugged, as if trying to make light of something that meant everything to her.

Her expression turned serious again. “If you can’t promise to help me experience those things, then I’d rather you just finish whatever meal you started and leave me with the rest of the bodies. I won’t trade one cage for another—not this time.” She curled her arms around her legs, tucking them close, folding into herself as if bracing against the weight of her own words.

Then, with a sudden smirk, she added, “And yes, I can sleep just about anywhere. Perks of being a dancer—we’re quite flexible.” The mischief in her eyes was fleeting, but it was there, a flicker of her true self. She waved him off. “Go eat something. I’d rather not wake up to find fangs in my neck.”

Unfolding her legs, she scooted into a comfortable position on the couch, making herself as small as possible, curling up with her sweater pulled tight around her. “I don’t care if you eat while I’m around,” she murmured, already settling in. “I’d just prefer to be awake if you plan on biting me again.”

She sighed, pressing her back against the cushions, turning away from him.

“Goodnight, Armand,” she whispered, shutting her eyes, thankful for the silence—even if it came with a scent she’d rather not question.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Tuesday at 9:38 AM

She broke her silence, but he did not. Instead, he offered an ear and listened. One bit of her dream after the next, she painted a picture that was all too vivid for the otherwise shockingly unimaginative actor. Armand couldn't help being charmed by the descriptions, the same way he couldn't help stop his heart from sinking when she mentioned she'd rather die than be stuck to him, achieving none of her own goals in the meantime. The seriousness left her quite quickly as she prepared herself for sleep, but the weight of her words lingered in the air and his mind regardless.

"The more we talk, the less I understand her.", this single sentence was the only thought to go through his mind as he stood up and took a few steps forwards and toward her, hearing her request and nodding away. With her having said her good nights after making her request crystal clear, the man turned to look at the empty mirror, remaining silent for a few moments to collect his thoughts before he finally spoke up. "... Then that's that. Have a good night, River.", those were the last words he left her with, alongside a deep exhale.

The night ended at that. Though the rest of it was long for Armand, pacing around the room and thinking the plan over, how to best put it together, where to go and what to do once they were out... it was nothing but his mind simply running in circles. Circles that only helped cement in his mind that failure right now, was not an option. So instead, he tried to focus most of his attention on River and making it to the fated day.

---

When was it that every single day flashed before him leading up to their performance- no, their last performance?

The night before had already been rough enough, given just how much blood he had downed, but currently, he felt rejuvenated. Was it the thrill of the performance, or the adrenaline coursing through him knowing that he would be enjoying his freedom again in a few moments' notice? Having just delivered the final line in his part of the script, he knew very little would be needed of him but to wait for the show to be over. Once the curtain call took place and everyone was free to hang around backstage until they heard word from the directors, he would grab River and make a break for it silently.

Having already communicated the plan over once more for good measure both the day before and earlier that day, his heart thumped in his chest louder than ever. His senses felt keener than any other day, and to his dismay, he had taken all too good a note of the people in the audience this one last time. If he really tried, his mind would be able to match each of the shrieks they'd hear, should they choose to linger, to each of the faces in the crowd that gathered today. But they weren't all too many. Maybe this boded poorly for their time limit.

"Backstage on the eastern corridor once we're done. The one you took the day we began to talk, leading straight to my dressing room. Make sure to take the corner and hide if anyone else is around so you're not seen."

It wouldn't be too many lines before the leading role closed the play, and then only the narrator's epilogue would be left. His queue to wander off stage and into the side-exit had already come up, so now it was a waiting game. Hells, if he really put his mind to it he could even hear the ticking of his pocketwatch on his vest, feeling every single click of its gears making the clockhand spin. Armand's eyes darted all over the place, trying to sneak a few peeks towards his colleagues on both of the stage's exits, if only to spot his accomplice.

That was until he felt a hand on his shoulder, his head snapping right away with that same Armand-esque smile to only be met with Diane. "I knew you felt oddly peppy today. What's up, Army?"

"If you call me that again, I'll show you what's left of that cake.", he huffed and shook his head, only for her to chuckle, a noise at which he hissed with irritation. "If anyone hears you, we'll both be in trouble. Shush and keep it down. Last night I fed more than my usual, ran through most of this week's 'supply'. I'll be cooling off over the next few days.", he threw some sort of an excuse, trying to sound as believable as he could.

And all that to be met with more sarcastic excitement and banter- the joy. "Oh my, should I look for River and warn her there might be a-", thankfully, his glare was enough to silence her this time. Like with any play, the mystery savior swooped in at the last minute as he heard the narrator quiet down and the familiar bells sounded. His head turned back towards the other exit, knowing the dancers were among the last to be called for the curtain call as he swallowed down a lump forming on his throat, concerned about not seeing River yet.

"Make some room for the cast Diane, will you?"

"Don't go biting my neck off, tiger."

Breath in, breath out. He collected his thoughts for one last time and took in the image before him, these ugly surroundings of the theater that they had spent so much time getting accustomed to.

"It's almost time."

---

Location: Armand's Dressing Room / Stage -> Stage Exit
Mood: Antsy/Excited

EclecticSpica · Tuesday at 2:54 PM

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Hallways
MOOD: excited / careful

River had been on edge all day. Her stomach felt fuller than usual—sneaking off to Armand’s room always meant finding a little snack. She never questioned why a vampire had mortal food; she simply accepted it with a silent thanks, grateful for even a brief relief from hunger. In just a few days, the dark circles under her eyes had started to fade. It was incredible what a little food and a safe place to sleep could do. Still, as she prepared for the night, relief settled over her. The escape plan was finally in motion, and not a moment too soon—the costumer had started to notice a change in her.

If one person could tell she was looking better, feeling stronger… that wasn’t good. But for now, it seemed to be just that one. The show went smoothly, and despite the lingering fear of something going wrong—lights crashing down, shadowy tendrils creeping toward her—nothing unusual happened. Instead, all she felt were the admiring stares of the crowd, blissfully unaware that many of them wouldn’t leave here alive.

Poor souls, she thought as she prepared for the final curtain call. Better them than me.

Lining up with the other performers, her eyes flicked across the stage, quickly finding Armand. He looked… tense. Too tense. Her gaze shifted, spotting Diane beside him. River met Armand’s eyes and, in an attempt to shake him from his nerves, lifted her fingers to her cheeks, forcing an exaggerated smile before rolling her eyes downward, crossing them slightly in a playful face. Just something small to lighten his mood—he was going to get them caught if he kept looking that wound up.

As she was ushered forward, she let the expression fall away, replacing it with a perfect, practiced smile. She ran out for the final bow, truly happy that it was over. This had to be the last show. Maybe the last time she would ever dance. The thought stung more than she wanted to admit, but right now, she didn’t care.

Keeping to routine, she moved naturally through the stage exit, passing Armand and Diane without lingering. “Good job,” she whispered in passing before slipping out with the other dancers. Normally, she would head to her dressing room, strip off the suffocating costume, remove the makeup, and hide in her dorm, waiting for the inevitable sounds of the feast. But tonight, she didn’t linger.

Following Armand’s instructions, she moved swiftly down the corridor, her steps light, controlled. She pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her breath, unsure if the quick, fearful gasps could be heard, but unwilling to risk it. Eyes locked ahead, she ducked into the hiding spot he had told her about, curling deep into the shadows. And then, she waited—for the sound of Armand.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Tuesday at 7:19 PM

If it were any other day, Armand already knew how the curtain call would play out. Much like the rest of the shows, a soft and almost all too confident walk towards the front of the stage standing by whomever lucky enough to be the main character and usual damsel in distress for the play, perhaps a bit of make-believe banter between them and then a bow, to a loud applause. In situations where unluckily enough, Diane riled up the crowd or had requested of anyone else to do so just to see his face when it was all over, he might even have to go out a second or third time for the curtain call. That usually only made the following night a more bitter one to sit through as he'd see the late audience that much more with his own eyes.

And yet today, wasn't one of those days. From his nervousness that came for the first time, to the quick glance of River he managed to catch before it was time to step forwards altogether, breaking that awkward crust right off him- all of this was new, and it was going to stay a one time experience in this very day. The vampire kept himself composed for the whole duration, though the adrenaline coursing through him at the thought of the plan going off was already screaming for him to act on it and do something about his situation.

All of that noise was loud, but he had to endure it for now. When it was his turn to bow, he couldn't help but let his eyes zip from face to face, taking the best mental note he could of all in the audience. Though this was not something he took joy in... it was the least he could offer them for the opportunity they would be providing him. Their fate had long since been sealed, and it would be horrible of him to let their sacrifice go to waste unremembered, unrecognised. "Now to spot River."

The sound of clapping echoed on the inside of his head as he stepped back and made room for the rest of the cast to show up, retreating into the backstage and wasting no time looking around. He adjusted his vest and with a deep breath and two quick and light slaps to his own cheeks, he made his way for the rendezvous point with the human.

His shoes clicked softly yet loudly against the wooden planks as he made his way with hasty, determined steps, and though he'd almost made it, he stopped dead in his tracks. "So there was a second set of steps, why is-"

"Not feeling too social today, are we? You'll be needed back in ten, you know."

Knowing that they were close enough for River to hear, Armand trusted that he could hopefully get rid of her and manage to shake her off their tails as soon as possible so they could get going without any further hiccups. "I wanted to head to my dressing room and see if I can shake this energy off, tone it down and be less jittery for the announcements. Don't worry about-"

"You're many things, among a bad liar Armand.", she interrupted him rather quickly as she stepped closer, wrapping an arm around his and tilting her head with a small smile. "You couldn't possibly be waiting for someone by your dressing room? A recent friend you've grown quite close to?"

"There's no way I can get rid of her in time, think."

Though his mind run at a hundred miles an hour right now, it felt like time slowed for a brief moment to a complete halt. Each tick of his pocketwatch was torturously long and unlike every other time, there was no look of disgust and disdain for Diane in his eyes- only concern for himself. There was no way they were getting her out, even if she somehow agreed to the plan- and he knew for a fact he nor River would get violent or forceful either, so this was by all means a dead end. No way in hell she would allow them to simply make the key for the exit and walk off on their own, when she already had this stranglehold she was acting on, knowing he'd fed on the human before...

"Wait, make the key?"

They had too little time to waste by this point. As soon as that train of thought clicked, Armand frowned and furrowed his brows. "... Diane. You've already seen worse of us, can... Ugh. You're right. We were going to my dressing room to talk over our situation with River.", the man conceded defeat with a deep sigh, lowering his gaze at the floor as he pouted. "Please- I know you're covering for us when you shouldn't. Give us a chance to explain before you say anything. Before the announcements. Please?"

"Front row seats on the cast's newest scandal, who else wouldn't wish to be in my place? Be a dear and lead away then, why don't you?", the delight in her voice was sickening, but that wouldn't last for too long.

As the two's joined footsteps approached the corner, Armand steeled himself. The little interactions they had and the trust they had built with River... now it would all be tested, and should they succeed, they could talk over all the stress brought on by this after the fact. "River is just around this corner, so don't freak out. I promise, it'll all make sense, let's just get to my room before this gets any messier. There's a lot to talk over and if we're only getting these ten minutes, I don't want to waste any time."

"Please, just play off of me. One last time, River."

---

Location: Stage Exit -> Hallways
Mood: Stressed/Determined

EclecticSpica · Wednesday at 8:21 PM

❝ River Thompson ❞
“A dancer’s life is fleeting… but how long can one dance on broken strings?”

LOCATION: Hallways
MOOD: careful

River flinched at the sound of approaching footsteps. At first, it seemed like only Armand, but then a second voice—female. Diane. She pressed herself deeper into the shadows, her brows knitting together as she strained to listen. The hell—get her away! Don’t invite her in! she screamed internally, frustration bubbling as Armand made no move to deter Diane. Still, she forced herself to steady her heart. Panic wouldn’t help. If they were going to have any chance at this, she needed to stay calm, hold her tongue, and trust Armand—even if she was already convinced this had to be the dumbest plan imaginable, without even knowing what it was yet.

As the two neared, River cautiously peeked her head out. “Armand?” she whispered, keeping her gaze carefully averted from Diane’s, focusing instead on Armand as she stepped closer.

“Hello, Diane.” Her voice was quiet but steady as she cleared her throat, fixing Armand with a sharp, questioning stare—what the hell is going on?

“Did you need something?” she asked, her voice coming out rougher than intended as she took another small step forward—this time slipping behind Armand. The tension in the air was thick, and she could feel her pulse hammering against her ribs as she waited for some kind of explanation.

Diane’s presence didn’t feel like a coincidence. River could tell just by the way she lingered—too sure of herself, too at ease. Armand had to have a reason for not sending her away, but whatever that reason was, it wasn’t immediately clear, and that made her nerves prickle.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. If they had to run, maybe she could act as a shield. Or, if things went south, she could shove Armand and make a break for it—lockpicking might be a safer gamble than whatever this was turning into.

But Armand didn’t seem rushed. Not yet.

River swallowed hard and curled her arms around herself, shifting just enough to keep both of them in her periphery. Say something, Armand.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-03-26T05:33:49-0400

Once the two were in sight and it was clear that Diane was on the verge of holding Armand hostage with the way she had her arm hoisted around his, he forced a smile on his face that River had grown to know all too well, if only she looked at him once every so often during the rehearsals and run-ins with this woman- one full of irritation. The tension was still written all over his face, though right now, he could feign it as stress from getting caught being lovebirds with River.

"Hey there you, I hear you and Army are up to no good again?"

"... Diane knows about our little... 'arrangement'. So before she gets any ideas and rats it out to the rest of the dancers, I want to see if we can save both of us the headache and gossip.", though he really relied on his rehearsals to do the heavy lifting, this once he was improvising on the spot better than ever, especially for Armand's standards. "We have until the feeding is over, so like I asked once already, let's just hurry and get to my dressing room before-"

A hand found itself on his chest in a manner that made him all too uncomfortable, gently petting it as though to calm him down. And yet this only made him more uneasy. "Relax darling, I heard you the first time."

His mind was so focused on the task at hand, and yet divided on everything else they had to keep track of all the same. They had already wasted enough time to keep his mind running on the plan's details. "My stopwatch... I can't check it but I could have sworn it has already been a minute and a half. We're running short already.", a dry swallow followed as he looked at River, gesturing with his head down the corridor- Diane seemed to have already picked up the memo as with hasty steps, she started to make her way on over, dragging Armand along with her. It looked like she was all too eager for the 'tea'.

As the group walked, the man looked over his shoulder at River and the best he could offer was a slight nod and a wink- no playfulness behind it however. It was the best he could muster to request for some sort of faith in him for just a moment longer. Any lost time, he would make up for- and just maybe at this rate, he might need to take her up on her offer for a little bit of blood too.

Stopping outside of his dressing room's door, he sighed and placed his hand on the knob, opening it wide with sarcastic awe sounding from Diane. "The legendary dressing rooms of our fanged prince, are these? How spacious and-", she was however, rudely interrupted by the man clearing his throat and gesturing inside with his head. "By all means Your Majesty, ladies first. I want to ask something of River in private out here, and we'll be there right on after."

The slight glare he earned did little to dissuade him however, as it appeared his request had worked in the end. "No more than a minute then. Don't leave me waiting, Romeo and Juliet."

As she stepped inside and Armand closed the door behind her, he turned to look at River, letting out a deep exhale. His heart was already right back to racing as his eyes trailed up to the bun tied at the back of her head. "Do you still have those bobby pins, River?", that was the first question. The second... though rather odd, he didn't hesitate before asking. "Hells- do you figure you could try and jam a lock with them when I ask you to?", his whisper was low so it wouldn't be heard even through the thin wooden door to his dressing room, as he leaned a little closer.

---

Location: Hallways
Mood: Determined

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