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

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Hallways
MOOD: determined ​

---

River stared blankly, her confusion evident as Armand spoke. When Diane clung onto him, however, her expression shifted—disgust and annoyance prickling at the edges of her composure. Seriously, what the hell?
Her gaze flickered back to Armand as he mentioned that Diane knew about their so-called “arrangement.” River tilted her head slightly but nodded, deciding—for now—that it was best to let the actor play his part. If he wanted to run this show, she’d let him.

That didn’t stop the flood of questions, though. Each one piling up, each laced with a rude remark about just how strange Diane’s sudden clinginess was. Had Diane always been like this? River furrowed her brow as she trailed behind them, trying to recall. No—this was new. Diane had always been bold, sure, but this… this was different.

If she really knew about the arrangement, did that mean she and Armand were together in some capacity? And now she was just… coming along? But then why hadn’t she been around more? Why hadn’t Armand mentioned her once in the last week—especially with how much time River had spent with him?

No. A determined look settled on her face. Something isn’t right.

Her hands folded behind her back as she silently followed, a stark contrast to Diane’s loud, almost obnoxious steps. It was like she wanted the whole theater to know exactly where she was. River had half a mind to point it out, but before she could, Armand leaned in.

At once, her eyes lit up. I knew it!

“You don’t have a secret lover!” she whispered, nodding rapidly in triumph.

She smirked, then added, “You’re far too brooding and dark for that. Boring, too.” The last part was mostly for herself, waved off with a flick of her fingers as she reached up, already undoing her bun. A faint floral and vanilla scent curled in the air as her hair tumbled loose—one of the small effects of eating better. She had started caring about her hair again, washing it more often, using scented oils.

One by one, she plucked out her bobby pins, piling them into her palm with a growing sense of mischief. “All you have to do is tell me when, and I’ll do it,” she whispered, a devious grin curling at her lips. “She deserves it for ruining your shirt,” she added with a pout, reaching out to brush a nonexistent stain from his chest, nodding in satisfaction as if she had made some great correction.

“Seriously, who just clings onto someone like that without asking first? It’s rude. Crass,” she hissed, yanking out another pin. Then, with a tilt of her head, she asked, “So what do you need me to do for now?” A beat. Then, her lips quirked as she offered, “I’m more than willing to hit her over the head with a book. I think I could lift a chair too, if I wanted.” The last pin freed, she gave her head a little shake, letting her curls bounce back into place. Now she was ready.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

They couldn't waste much time but definitely enough for Armand to give her a confused look with his brows furrowed before he raised one. "A secret lover? Dia- Oh, hells no.", he shook his head with an equal amount of speed as her nods, raising a hand as if to turn the statement down doubly. Seeing her brush his shirt was enough to get a small chuckle, though the smirk forming on his face quickly faded as he turned to look at the door. "We're not using violence. They'll get her out of there for sure, at some point.", as he spoke he brought a thumb to his teeth, stabilising his breathing.

​

"I might need a bite after all later down the line, but... hold onto that thought. For now, jam it as soon as I lock the door.", he gave her a final look before he opened placed the edge of his thumb between his teeth, biting at it and ripping a good part of the skin open. He flinched a little as he felt the sharp jolt of the bite, blood beginning to pour out of his hand and sliding down his digit. However, rather than dropping onto the floor bit by bit, it extended as if it were crystalising, forming a long icicle made out of blood that began to take shape. He placed one finger on the door knob and kept pulling their way with some force, if only to make sure the dancer inside wouldn't be breaking out.

"Once you get the bobby pins inside, I can make sure to stick them to the door using some blood. Just let me know when.", he began to raise his voice from that lowly whisper as he slowly inserted the bloody appendage into the lock, letting it take form slowly. Finding it to be too slow however, he squeezed at the underside of his thumb a little, feeling more blood rush out. And like that, a click sounded and alerted Diane on the inside too. Armand stepped back, pulling his hand and a bloody key out with it as it began to liquify again, pulling itself up his hand and covering his fingertips no different to little caps.

"What- What the hell do you think you're doing, Armand?! What's this meant to accomplish, you'll be in trouble sooner or later so let me out!"
​

Turning his head to nod and wink at River, he made his way towards the hallway as he allowed her to run her magic however best she could with the pins. "Why, what will you do, go and bawl your eyes out to Robert?", he scoffed as he picked the lock and brought his bloodied hand to it, examining it for a moment and trying to place a thumb right over the keyhole, letting blood seep in. In the meantime, his mind was trying to run to a solution for a back-up plan, should the mechanism prove too confusing to make out. He'd seen his own key for his dressing room before, so it was easier to replicate- but this?

"Don't you dare give me lip, the moment you open this door, you're done for!"
​

"Noone is opening that goddamn door, Diane. I'm sicker of your shit than River is, so hope they find you sooner rather than later. And when they do, see if anyone can get even remotely close to me or her."

"You would not dare escape and leave me behind!"
​

"Go ahead and follow me once you're out, you unbearable hag.", the frustration in his voice was quite exaggerated and the insults that came out of his mouth almost childish as he weaponised practically anything and everything he'd seen from his partner-in-crime's display day in and day out since they drew closer. And before Diane could even clap back, he already heard signs of the feeding having begun. Some panicked screams, followed by sounds of footsteps scattering chaotically all across the auditorium. "We've still got some minutes left. This damned lock- I have to focus on it."

Deeming he'd asked Diane enough to shove it, he put the rest of his attention in ignoring her senseless and pointless demands, getting the best feel he could with his makeshift key for the lock's inner mechanisms as he turned and twisted his thumb to find its every pin. "River, how are you doing? She'll probably start trying to pick it herself if she has half a brain not honed in on copping a feel."

"As soon as I get my hands on you, you're-", she barked from inside in retaliation in a hurried voice, sounding like she was scampering to find something.
​

---

Location: Hallways
Mood: Determined

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Hallways
MOOD: impressed ​

---

River watched Armand intently, her expression caught somewhere between fascination and revulsion as he performed his little blood trick. It was disgusting. It was brilliant. “That is… amazing and horrific,” she murmured, leaning in slightly as he locked the door. The second his hand moved away, she got to work, biting open pins and crafting a makeshift jam. Her fingers moved quickly, her focus sharp—until Diane’s threats rang out from the other side of the door. River’s eyebrows shot up. Then came Armand’s response. A soft laugh escaped her lips. He’s far more fun when he isn’t lying, she thought, shoving in a few more pins for good measure.

Satisfied, she gave Armand a nod but gestured further down the hall. The crunching noises echoed again, a stark reminder that time was slipping away. Without hesitation, River reached for the tulle of her costume and ripped it. The fabric tore easily, but she didn’t waste time explaining her plan. Instead, she waved Armand toward the opposite side of the hallway—closer to where they needed to go—before tying one end of the fabric to his dressing room door.

She stretched it across, securing the other end to a different door’s handle. A quick flick of her fingers against the tension let out a soft twang, and she snorted. Perfect. Diane was still speaking. River sighed, then drove the heel of her pointe shoe sharply against the door. That shut her up. “You’ll do what? If I have any say in it, you’ll be deader than the corpses rotting in there!” she hissed, shaking her head. “Be a good vixen and shut up. Wait for someone to save you. Also, learn some manners.”

She turned on her heel, ready to move on, but then paused—one last insult teetering on the edge of her mind. She turned back. “Oh, and I know you steal everyone’s lipstick from the dressing rooms. If I noticed, it’s only a matter of time before the costumer does.” River tilted her head, lips curling with amusement. “Your time is already up, Diane. Best behave and stay quiet.”

With a final nod, she skipped to the side, giving Armand space to finish up. The second he was done, she picked up the pace, leading the way toward their next destination.

“How do I feel? I feel exhilarated and alive,” she grinned, the most genuine smile she’d shown since they met. Her eyes gleamed with admiration.

“I like you when you’re not being all stuffy and proper. When you don’t hide the truth.” She nudged his side, nodding in approval. “You’re far more fun like this. And you even called someone a hag.” A snort of laughter escaped her at the memory, and she quickly lifted her hands to stifle it.

“We should hurry. The good thing about the feeding starting is that we can make some noise without too much risk,” she said, quickening her steps. She cast him a sidelong glance, her smirk returning. “Even if we fail, it was worth it just to hear you curse someone out.” A quiet chuckle bubbled up in her throat,

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

His focus was almost exclusively on getting this damned lock open so that the heavy chains would unfurl from the doors, but it was almost therapeutic to get distracted by River's further efforts in putting Diane right where she belonged. Just as she finished, he could feel something happening with that forsaken lock, any minute now it was going to- click. His face brightened as he felt the shackle releasing, and the heavy clank of the chains followed when they finally dropped to the floor. Pulling his hand away for the same glove to form as the body fluid coagulated around his fingers, he nodded at River and followed right on behind her.

Some traces of his blood had been left behind and on the padlock, but it was nothing he'd miss. As soon as they were through the door, Diane's panicked protests and knocks on the door were shushed when they closed their way to freedom behind them. The screams had finally gone quiet as well, now hardly muffled behind the old wood. The two strode down the long, silent and mostly dark hallway, with some light coming from the dimly lit candles decorating one side of the wall, while the other shone with some of the dusk's fading light seeping in through some tiny windows too far out of reach.

"Alive, huh?", Armand turned to look at River, returning the smile in too excited of a fashion for his standard. The same thrill that she felt, this feeling of breaking the rules- fuck it felt so good to be free. "Outside of that hellhole, there's no reason to be proper and hold myself back anymore.", those were brave words for someone too conscious to swat a fly without feeling bad for it, but there was definitely merit to his words. His mind was a bit more focused on analyzing the corridor they were making their way through, from the few shelves on the same wall as the windows, standing tall and filled with outdated equipment and spares that had been rotated out of use, to the stacks of crates that oftentimes spilled into the middle of the hallway and called for him to follow right behind her rather than try to keep up by her side.

"This corridor is huge, but at the end... to our right, there should be a door. If it's locked again, I'll just try to get rid of the lock completely.", he grunted and looked down at his hand, trying to force some more of his own blood out just in case it was required. "You should find me more unbearable twats if you like seeing me cuss them out- just don't be shocked if I'm grumpy all day.", it was quite the delayed response but as he would say every time he wasn't on time to the rehearsals, better late than never.

"Gods, no more rehearsals, no more Diane, no more ghoulish coworkers and best of all- no more of Robert or his fingers.", Armand couldn't help contain that immature chuckle that escaped his lips, grinning from ear to ear in his excitement though he hadn't yet noticed. As they approached the lock, he took the pocketwatch out from his vest and gave it a quick glance. "We've got three minutes, let's-"

The door was locked, and not through its one lock they could pick alone. Rather, through the obnoxious amount of security mechanisms added to it- latches with additional padlocks, what appeared to be a deadbolt lock on the knob... "There's no fucking way I can get rid of all of these.", he let out an exasperated sigh, trying to look around for another way out. Other than the windows, should they climb on a shelf and try to fit through the admittedly small gap... the only way they could try and get through the door would be by taking the whole thing down.

... wait.

"River. If you need to, do you think you could help me walk?", he didn't even turn to look at her. Instead, the thoughtful and somewhat tense stare was given right at the door as he began to take some deep breaths. "In a worst case scenario, River can make it through the windows up top. But I could never squeeze through a gap that small on my own."
---

Location: Hallways -> Fire Exit Corridor
Mood: Determined

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Fire Exit Corridor
MOOD: excited / concerned ​

---

“To be somewhere new,” she whispered as they stepped into the next area. The air felt different here—lighter, less oppressive. The weight of unseen eyes no longer pressed against her shoulders, and though a faint unease still lingered, it was nothing compared to the suffocating dread of the theater. For the first time in what felt like hours, she exhaled fully. She glanced around, the absence of screams or whispers making the silence almost eerie. “How can it be just so quiet?” she murmured, instinctively moving closer to Armand as they pressed forward.

River navigated the space with practiced ease, grateful for the years spent learning where not to step. She followed Armand’s lead, her body relaxing enough for a quiet laugh to escape her lips—soft at first, then growing warmer the more she used it. “I think I’ll miss the rehearsals after a while,” she admitted, almost surprised by the realization. “I actually enjoy dancing.”

Armand made another comment about Robert’s fingers. River rolled her eyes. “You seriously need to get over the fingers thing,” she teased, flashing him a smirk. “I’m starting to think you’re jealous of him.” Her amusement faded the moment they reached the door.

She blinked at the sheer number of locks, her fingers trailing over them one by one. “They really don’t want anyone leaving,” she muttered, furrowing her brow. Her gaze flicked to the nearby window. She hummed thoughtfully. She could fit through that—easily. Armand, on the other hand… well, that was another issue entirely. And there was no telling if the outside locks would be any easier to break from the other side.

Then Armand spoke. River paled. “…Help you walk?” she echoed, her throat tightening with concern. “What in the hells are you planning to do?” She turned to him fully, catching the unwavering determination in his gaze. Her stomach twisted. River stepped aside, though not without a huff of irritation. “If you accidentally kill yourself, I’ll be very upset, Armand.” Just in case, she took another step back.

“I also don’t know how to fix a broken vampire, so please try not to damage yourself too much,” she muttered, her eyes darting between him and the door. After a beat, she sighed, thinking. “…Do you need more blood? We could just ram the damn thing down.” She glanced around at the crates littering the room, wondering if any of them were heavy enough to help.

Her expression brightened with another idea. “What if there are bolt cutters? That might be wiser!” A pause. That would take time. Time they didn’t have. And with the exit right there… River gritted her teeth. “…Or we could just stop wasting time and break it.” She turned back to Armand, crossing her arms. “Whatever your plan is, just don’t make me scrape you off the floor.”

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

He'd run through all of her thoughts at least once or twice in his adrenaline rush- the only way would be to take the door down. As for what that would require... that's where the details were rather unclear, for the time being. And that's something Armand would correct rather quickly, judging by the uncomfortable rips he created one after the other from the tips of his fingers on his other, up to now uninjured hand. "As soon as I'm done, I'll try to put as much as I can back in place and dry it up.", he placed both hands together, as though he were holding a handle of some sort.

"If I give you too much trouble- I'm sorry, River.", he spoke amidst scattered thoughts of figuring out what shape he could really allow his blood to take. A sword came to mind like the decorative ones that he remembered in distant memories, but... there wasn't enough blood without wringing himself dry and weak. "If I don't make it in the next two minutes, climb out through the window using the shelves.", Armand turned his head to request of her with a slow nod, swallowing dryly.

When he turned his attention to the blood quickly dripping out of his hands moments later, with the makeshift glove having melded into the mass, it had taken on the form of what looked almost like a stake- a poor effort at making a cane, but come think of it... crude did it best in this case. He could feel his heart as if it were pulsing throughout his entire body; some of his strength was back as is. Add to that the incredibly pointy object in his hands, and as he started to make it harden and solidify in his grip, he prepared himself for the physical stress he was about to put on his body. "Apologies if this makes you queasy-"

Not more than a blink of the eye after saying that, he was already at trying to dig the stake into the door with too brute-forced an attempt for what he'd put on display up to now. One overhead jab using both hands after the other, he kept banging against the wooden door's middle and its many locks as a mix of blood and shards chipped off every single instance. "All I need is to just puncture the wood's surface and wedge the rest of it in with sheer strength. If I can do that-", sweat was already forming all over his head as the door being hit with the crystallized blood echoed throughout the halls. If they were any more reasonable in their size, that noise would be heard even out into the theater hallways, but right now? There was no way anyone could hear any of this over the feeding at that.

When it wasn't blood being splattered on the walls and floor, it was small shards of red glass falling that quickly melted into a warm, familiar liquid and formed little pools on the damp planks on the floor.

How many times had he put all his back into this approach, all for naught? There were a few scratches on the damned thing, but nothing solid enough to show progress. Though he wasted a few seconds of the precious time they had left seemingly doing nothing, it was like the blood's shape thinned, its point becoming longer, sharper. He frowned and switched his grip now that it appeared almost lighter in its form, holding it in one hand and taking a step back to wind up and with one powerful motion- he practically threw it right into his target. The stake-turned-javelin launched and with little time to fly in the air not much seemed to happen past some blood liquifying again and splashing against the door's wood.

Hell, it looked a lot shorter and almost like it broke by the time Armand was done with his latest attempt, meaning that... was a lot of blood wasted. He grunted and moved to the side, already feeling some signs of weakness settling in as he checked his pocketwatch. They had something less than a minute left by this point, and things were not really looking great for either of them. He took some hurried and unstable steps towards River, quick to pull her into hug with his back turned to the door. "Stick close to me. Just in case. I might need it.", he spoke between sharp breaths, and once he'd finished talking, something crackled.

That crackle continued sounding, and eventually came with more violent sounds of the door's wood coming apart. Though it began slowly, it quickly ramped up and the noise the door was producing as it began to get pulled apart from the inside out grew louder and harder to ignore, as did Armand's grunts. With a sharp explosion of some pieces from the door and a bit of blood all over them, a faint light seeped in through a very uncomfortably shaped hole where the door once laid- now looking like someone used a cannon to shoot a hole right through the thing.

"I couldn't get a lot back. Help me out for now. Let's find a place somewhere and just lay low.", Armand's voice heaved amidst shallow breaths, as he unfurled his arms from around her and instead placed a hand on her shoulder, turning to look over his back at the light signaling the two's freedom, smirking from the corners of his lips tiredly.

"At last..."

---

Location: Fire Exit Corridor
Mood: Worn Out/Thrilled

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Fire Exit Corridor → Alleyway
MOOD: excited / concerned ​

---

River nodded, twisting back the way they had come. The squelches and scrapes of Armand’s movements echoed behind her, but she didn’t dare look back. Instead, she focused on making their pursuers’ path as obnoxious as possible. Grunting, she shoved crates into their way, stacking some, tipping others—anything to slow them down. Every second matters. She paused, breath hitching, as something metallic flickered at the edge of her vision. A knife. River gasped, snatching it up. She turned, about to call out to Armand— But before she could, she was pulled against his side. Her heart slammed into her ribs. Wide-eyed, she barely had time to process the shift before she heard it. A sharp crack. A rush of air. Then—a cold breeze.

River instinctively buried her head against Armand’s chest, one hand gripping the knife, the other clutching the fabric of his shirt in a vice-like grip. Then, silence. Slowly, she lifted her head. “Armand,” she whispered, voice trembling with awe. A breathless laugh escaped her lips. “You did it.”

She twisted, fingers tightening around the knife. Wasting no time, she jammed it into the weakened barrier, widening the hole until there was enough space for them to squeeze through. A few rusted chains dangled in the way, but nothing that would stop them.

“Here, I’ll go first,” she urged, practically bending herself into new shapes to fit through. “And don’t be afraid to put your weight on me.” The moment she slipped outside, River flinched. Fresh air hit her skin. And with it— No more screams. No more dying gasps. But voices. Laughter. The clatter of carriages. The distant bray of animals. The hum of life. River couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face. She crouched, setting the knife down beside her, then stretched her arms toward the opening.

“Alright, take it easy princess, no sudden movements” she called, amusement laced with relief. “Luckily, no one seems to care about us right now, so just—one step at a time.” She grunted as she pulled him through, ducking her head beneath his arm and bracing with her whole body. Armand was practically slumped against her by the time he was fully out, and River laughed—giddy, breathless, triumphant. They had done it.

Without thinking, she hugged him tighter, her arms locking around him. “Okay, okay—place to rest. Preferably not here.” River adjusted her grip, hooking his arm properly over her shoulder as she steadied him. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face as she glanced back at the knife.

…Better to leave it.

She turned, guiding them down the street, her gaze darting between the towering buildings and the sea of people moving around them. “So many people,” she whispered, half in disbelief. “So much life.” She flinched whenever someone passed too close, her body stiffening under the occasional glance—like they were just two drunkards stumbling home. River snorted.

“There’s so much air,” she added, tucking him closer, lifting him higher against her. “I have so many questions when you’re feeling better, but for now—” She gasped, spotting a narrow alleyway ahead. It wasn’t far, and more importantly—it was quiet. Just a few rats. No people. River steered them toward it, maneuvering Armand down until he was seated, her attention immediately flicking to his arms, his body—his wounds. Her breath steadied. “What can I do to help?”

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

Armand's senses had worn down through all those layers of overexertion as he watched her widen the hole in the door, smirking at the sight. The outside's light, even if dim- how long had it last been since he got out of these murky walls? With sluggish steps, he made it to the door and slid on outside, his hand already exploring past the door to find something to hold into until it ran into River's arm. "I swear- it's just a 'now' thing.", he made a weak effort at joking, smirking in tired triumph at her joke as he found himself distributing the weight half between his legs and the support she could provide him.

He was almost certain the lack of care from anyone around them in the street was all because they were too busy to really pay attention. Two actors in costumes right past a very violently smashed door were no ordinary sight, let alone with the tasteful and rather artistic blood splatters on Armand's clothes. With her support proper as she placed herself under his arm, he stumbled by her side. His vision was already hazy as was, from the sudden adjustment to the light and the plethora of people making their way through the streets. Only now did he realise that the disgusting scent of the theater had stopped invading his nostrils and it was replaced with the town's fragrances he had missed so.

The fresh air, mixed with the odd alcohol-laced breath or the much more common mix of aromas and his head was already being taken for enough of a spin. "Were the streets always this-..?", the dazed vampire didn't even manage to get his question out before she brought up all the questions swelling up in her head. But she didn't elaborate, instead guiding him over to an alley and seating him down as he grumbled a little, feeling his back pressed into by the wall. "G-Give me a moment for a start... hah..."

Letting his head rest back slightly, he took a few long breaths, as though his lungs hung from his mouth. And the last of those breaths turned into a low laugh of near disbelief that increased in volume, until tears reached began to swell up from his eyes. He tried to keep himself out of control however, raising a hand to wipe the tears off his face with its back and looking down at his injured digits. The cuts he tore using his teeth were small, and the little blood trying to trickle out of them quickly solidified across them, sealing the exits. Now... came the other part.

"I know what it looks like... but don't. Trust me and stay calm. Please.", he looked up at her and offered the least tired smile he could, before pushing himself off the wall. With a hand quickly placing on the concrete tiles below him to keep him from toppling over, he revealed his back and the little bits of splintered wood lodged into it with his turn. "I can push them out, but I need to preserve my blood... if it's okay, can you..?", Armand steadied himself by placing a hand on the wall, looking over his shoulder at her with a weakened gaze from his half-lidded eyes.

"After that, just some time and a safe place... and I'll be alright. I'm a bloodweaver, this is nothing.", he scoffed at his own statement, though it was cut short from his flinching as he jerked his head a little reflexively. "H-Hah, just been a while... pay me no mind, o' mortal... heh."

He was definitely on a high from their successful escape.

---

Location: Fire Exit Corridor -> Alleyway
Mood: Worn Out/Thrilled

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Alleyway
MOOD: excited / concerned ​

---

River winced as her gaze followed Armand’s, her expression tightening at the sight of his hands. They looked like her feet after a grueling rehearsal with the ballet mistress—something she would never have to endure again. Or… no. No, River. It’s never going to happen again. She forced the thought away, replacing it with a smile. The concern was there, but in this moment, the sheer joy of even a sliver of freedom was impossible to ignore. Her smile lingered until he turned, revealing his back. Her breath hitched. “Oh, hells, Armand,” she whispered, reaching out hesitantly. Her fingertips brushed the edge of a splinter, and she flinched at how sharp it was. Her mind reeled back to when he had held her close—how tightly, how protectively. Now she understood why. He had been shielding her.

“Of course,” she murmured at his request, already getting to work. “I’m sorry if it hurts.” The first splinter came out with a wet squelch, and River clenched her teeth. “If I pretend it’s just plucking feathers from a chicken, it makes it easier,” she muttered. “But if I throw up, you’re not allowed to take offense.” She paused, swallowing back the nausea. “Not that there’s much left in me to throw up.” She braced one hand against his skin as she worked her way down, each piece coming out slower than the last. The sheer resilience of him—still standing, still breathing—left her in awe. A human like herself wouldn’t have survived this.

“Vampires are truly amazing sometimes,” she whispered, mid-pull. A particularly long shard popped free, and River gasped, holding it up for him to see. “This came out of you! It’s the size of Roger’s fingers!” she snorted, grasping at humor—anything to make this less horrifying.

“I didn’t even know vampires could do that! You made a pick out of blood and tore through the door like a beast! Not to mention, you swore at Diane!” River let out a breathy laugh, picturing the woman still stuck in that wretched, smelly room.

“I think you’ve officially topped my list of best men in the theater,” she teased, patting his shoulder before reaching for another deep-set splinter. “I hadn’t realized I was marked by a beast in waiting. You should’ve told me sooner—I wouldn’t have been as snippy with you.” She grinned. “Actually, no. I would’ve been worse.”

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

​

Despite being full of holes filled only by sharp pieces of wood, he wasn't too sure just how bad it was. Surely she was just overexaggerating, he thought as the adrenaline in him died down and he became more sensitive to the pain with every single splinter that was being pulled out. "When you say it like that, you make it sound like it's-", he gasped as she complimented him, tightening his grip on the wall with his fingers a bit as he jerked his head once more, keeping it lowered while sweat slowly dripped down his temples. With a shard held out to him while she mentioned Roger again, he couldn't help but laugh- until he could practically feel the shards left digging in from the spasming, when he did stop.

"So much for me being jealous- nghf..!"

Since River was busy with playing doctor, Armand tried to put some of his focus on coagulating the blood oozing out of each wound where the splinters were pulled out, feeling no remains left under his skin. If there were any... thankfully for him, they were easier to pick out compared to how a human would need to go about it. "Never seen one in action before..?", he asked her almost surprised, though... there wasn't much need for the other vampires working in the theater to really exercise their abilities, was there? Perhaps they were disallowed too, as per their contract?

"W-Wait, why are you speaking like I've got to be a vampire to swear at the wretch-", he raised his head to look at her with surprise as she grinned at him and patted his shoulder, feeling one of the deeper splinters about to be pulled out. There weren't any others left after this thankfully, and though he had done a sloppy job in closing his wounds, it would be enough to ride out the high until they found a place to crash... all so that he could recuperate a bit better over there, instead. "You- You're a damn menace.", his lips were curved upwards until she began to pull out the final piece of wood, grunting and breathing more heavily than before. Once it was out, a layer of scarlet expanded over the injury and blanketed over it, solidifying to patch the last hole up.

Armand was still weak, but leaning against the wall with most of his weight, he slowly pushed himself back up to his feet, breathing heavily... and even though he was in a world of hurt right now, he couldn't help but smile as he extended a hand to shyly support himself with River's shoulder, as soon as she was up. "What's that obsession with beasts now? Let's find somewhere to lay down, and then- hugh... Then tell me all about it."

He was trying to swallow his fatigue, but to say he was struggling to was an understatement. From his weary breathing to the slight paleness on his face, the shaky fingers wrapped around her shoulders and his unfocused gaze- a sorry state that almost mirrored much her own when they had first met some days ago. "We'll need money for an inn or room... so maybe some building..? Anywhere we could just- Hoogh... Just be alone and safe for a bit. Anything come to mind? It's been years since last time for me."

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Location: Alleyway
Mood: Worn Out

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

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LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: excited ​

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River let out a triumphant laugh as she yanked the final shard free, flicking off the blood droplets with a satisfied snort. “That was disgusting,” she declared, eyes wide and almost manic. Despite the grim nature of the task, some part of her had found it… fun. That fleeting amusement, however, died the moment she took in Armand’s state. Her hands shot out to steady him, teeth tugging at her bottom lip as she absorbed his request. “Right… a place to stay,” she murmured, glancing around uncertainly. The problem was—she had no idea where they even were. She wasn’t allowed to know the city, wasn’t allowed to walk the streets without a chaperone. So how in the hell was she supposed to find an inn?

Her gaze darted through the dimly lit alleyway. It wasn’t exactly welcoming, and there wasn’t anywhere remotely suitable for resting. “Just… hold onto me,” she whispered, tucking herself under his arm to support his weight. With careful, deliberate steps, she led them down the streets, eyes sweeping the signs overhead. Each one she read under her breath, committing their surroundings to memory. Two blocks in, she finally spotted salvation—an establishment with "Inn" in its title. Without hesitation, she veered sharply toward it, hauling Armand up the steps before depositing him onto a plush couch in the lobby.

“Just stay put for a moment,” she huffed, pressing a hand to her racing heart as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She made her way to the front desk, subtly watching the other guests check in, learning what to say. But when the receptionist laid eyes on her, they paled, as if they’d seen a ghost.

River quickly checked her reflection in a nearby surface—had she glared instead of smiled? No, her expression was fine. Perhaps it was the dirt stinging to her cheeks, the running makeup, the specks of blood that lingered on her hands and cheeks? That would be a fair way to look at someone then. “Oh, um… a room, please?” she asked, blinking at the woman’s wary gaze. The receptionist’s eyes flickered between her and Armand, their disheveled state clearly not inspiring confidence.

“For how long?” River hesitated, then reached up, unfastening the golden hoop earrings she always wore. Diamonds glinted in the studs—a gift from her first ballet instructor, the one who had ignited her passion… and inadvertently worsened her mother’s cruelty.

She cast a glance at Armand before shaking her head. “However long we can get with these.”

The receptionist eyed the earrings, then the pair of them again, before silently sliding a key across the counter. The number on the handle gleamed under the light.

“Two days,” she said bluntly. “Don’t cause a scene. And clean up.” River gave a curt nod, snatching up the key before turning back to Armand.

“Alright, old man, here we go,” she muttered, wedging herself under his arm again and hauling him upright. Luckily, the inn had elevators. Unluckily, River had never seen one before. The bellhop had been eager to assist—until he got a good look at their faces. Even so, River made polite conversation, watching intently as the buttons lit up, fascinated by the contraption. Before long, they reached their floor. River pushed open the door to their room and took in the modest space—one bed, a washroom, a small couch for one person to sit in , and a single window. She snorted in approval at the window and immediately went to help Armand settle in. “Here we go,” she murmured, easing him onto the mattress.

Then she practically bounded over to the window, throwing it open. She glanced down and gasped. “We’re so high up! And the windows open here!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with awe. The sheer novelty of everything kept her restless—too many new things, too much to take in. How was she supposed to sit still?

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𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​