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

EclecticSpica · Wednesday at 5:54 AM

❝ 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 · Wednesday at 11:20 AM

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 · Wednesday at 2:47 PM

❝ 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 · Thursday at 8:07 AM

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 · Thursday at 3:32 PM

❝ 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 · Thursday at 7:17 PM

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 · Friday at 12:18 AM

❝ 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 · Saturday at 8:19 PM

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 · Saturday at 11:12 PM

❝ 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 · Saturday at 9:45 AM

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."

---

Location: Alleyway
Mood: Worn Out

EclecticSpica · Sunday at 8:42 PM

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

LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: excited

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?

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · Sunday at 1:19 PM

The small reactions he saw of her were enough to help preserve that tired smile, though she only earned a squeak out of asking him to hold onto her. "Aye ma'am... lead away.", and from there, stumbling alongside her all happened in minutes that blurred together into a few blinks. It felt like he passed out and really only came to once she placed him on the couch, seeing that she exchanged... something, his vision was too blurry to really tell.

Next thing he knew, he was being called an old man and worse yet, carried like one once more right after the fact. That stupid smirk on his face persisted until he was helped down to a bed, grunting before he laid faster than he would have liked- the gravity pull was simply too much for him to resist in his present state.

"We're so high up! And the windows open here!"

His head buzzed, that irritation stretching further down the rest of his body and yet he could hear River's voice louder and clearer than ever before. Her excitement alone was enough to make him start laughing, and even the irritation in his back's many wounds wasn't enough to make him stop. Instead he looked at her tiredly with half-lidded eyes from the bed he would definitely bloody up a little over the time he'd spend recuperating his strength, feeling a proud smile creeping to his features.

"We've got so much to see and do.", it was a tired acknowledgment of all they would have to do in order to fully see her dream through. "But... did you have money on you? How did you..?", the man asked as he tried to prop himself further up the bed and see if he could get in a sitting position, if only to look at River more comfortably until he inevitably drifted to a short but well deserved slumber after the evening's action.

Now that his body was no longer pulsing with strength like it did some minutes ago, he could finally take things in more normally. From the smells wafting into the room through the window, to the oddly fresh breeze that crashed against his skin, making his hairs stand at attention in a way they hadn't for so long. Though his breathing was heavy, he had never felt more free in so long, without worries nor stress weighing him down. No dread for the next rehearsal and interaction with Diane, and no guilt about his next meal either, although... "..."

... no, now wasn't the time to ask. They finally got some time, and he wasn't in that grave need for blood quite yet. Right now, his body just needed some rest to stop feeling so cramped and worn after he exerted his abilities more than he had in the last few years since he'd been a free man prior to joining the theater. "You know, at first... I thought you'd be a burden to get out with me in one piece. When I first marked you."

As he managed to find a mostly comfortable position to sit against the bed's headboard, he placed a hand over his stomach and huffed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Now, I don't even know if I'd have been able to make it without you hauling me over. Just thinking about this all... today was a bloody blast.", he chuckled lowly and opened his eyes, giving her a lazy stare before he tilted his head. "You said you had questions before... I can't answer them all, but whatever's most pressing... shoot away."

---

Location: Alleyway -> Hotel Room
Mood: Content

EclecticSpica · Sunday at 5:45 PM

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

LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: excited

River flitted from one spot to another, finally flopping into a chair and bouncing a few times to test it. Her hands ran over the fabric, her grin widening as she marveled at the smoothness—no cracks, no dust, nothing rough to scratch at her skin. It was an atrocious shade of green, something that looked like it belonged in a theater’s backstage lounge, but it was still leagues better than anything she had ever sat on before.
Her head snapped up as Armand spoke.

“We’ve got two days here. Best not to wonder how I got us in,” she said with a dismissive wave before finally moving to unlace her shoes. Flipping them over, she blinked at the state of them. The undersides of her pointe shoes were caked in dried blood, dirt, and—was that mud? River’s eyes gleamed in wonder. She had never really seen mud up close before, at least not like this. Without hesitation, she started picking at it, snickering at the gritty texture against her fingertips.

A shift from Armand caught her attention, making her flinch. In an instant, she was up and at his side, pressing gentle but firm hands against him, urging him back down.

“I know you want to talk, and I do have questions,” she admitted, tilting her head. “But, Armand, you are bleeding everywhere.” She glanced at the sheets, already darkening with whatever he was leaking, and gave him a small, pitying smile. “You should rest. Or eat first—then rest,” she suggested, lifting her arm toward his face.

“Do you have to bite my neck, or is my arm fine too?” she asked, tone light as if discussing dinner options. “I don’t think I can convince the receptionist to come up and let you snack on her, but I should be a decent substitute, right?” She waved her hand in front of his face like a spoon coaxing a child to eat.

“Come on—eat, then sleep. I’ll keep first watch.”

Her grin stretched wide—almost too wide—already brimming with excitement at the idea of exploring on her own once he was down for the count. But before he could argue, she leaned in conspiratorially. “I mean, what kind of person takes their savior to a room and doesn’t offer up a little gratitude?” she teased, her voice dipping into something resembling playfulness. “Besides, I’d rather you bite me willingly instead of keeling over and turning feral in your sleep. I imagine the latter would be a much bigger mess.” Her fingers traced over the faint bruises on her arms—old reminders of the world she had left behind. Her expression sobered, just slightly. “I’ve had worse,” she muttered under her breath before shaking it off, forcing another grin. “So? What’ll it be, beastie?”

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-03-31T03:39:48-0400

With her hands against him, there was little he could do to not get pulled back down as he grumbled a little and let out a deep exhale. "We don't normally sleep, you know.", he spoke before seeing the arm before him, his eyes widening as he looked at it in near shock. His gaze slid over to hers when she began to ask for where he should bite, furrowing his brows and wincing a little at the thought of digging right into her arm. "Uuh, I-... I usually bite at the neck since I'm more familiar with not injuring over there... but..."

To think that last time, she was blaming him for not finishing the job... and where were they now? She was almost eager to let him feed, looking all but disappointed she was about to make a little blood donation to him. "Wait, savior? I... suppose you're right.", he let out a content murmur and sighed, remaining quiet at the mention of turning feral. Though she had probably said it as a joke, it felt like a very bitter truth that might once turn true. One he would rather not come to, too.

But with her grin and new nickname, she earned his attention right back as he raised an eyebrow as best as he could, groaning and weakly raising a hand to her arm. "It won't hurt, I promise.", he said and gently holding it in his hand, he brought it closer to his face and closed his eyes, mumbling under his breath before his lips connected with her arm- and so did his teeth. "... thank you for the meal, and sorry."

From the moment his fangs pricked right into her skin and nestled in, though much more shyly than when he first bit her that fateful evening, he began to leech from her life slowly, steadily. The amount he was feeding was significantly less, and the same went for the weakening effect it had on her last time when he'd made a conscious effort to try and put her down as painlessly as possible. Rather, it was a conscious effort to not harm her or her energy reserves any this once, and before long it was already over as he pulled his mouth away and looked at the two precise marks left on her arm.

... it was almost comical how he looked at the little blood squeezing out of one of them though, no different to a puppy eyeing the last bit of food left on its owner's plate. After a quiet moment or two of deliberate stares, he simply brushed his thumb over it to pick it up and brought it to his mouth, licking it off his finger before he let go of her arm. With that, he laid down in full once more and looked at the freed dancer, grinning. "You know... it was a lot sweeter this time. How do you feel now, menace?"

Come think of it, some color seemed to have already been restored in his face, from that sickening paleness back to just about his normal. Just how fast his body could recover- the extents of which she hadn't even seen yet, given he was still making a mess on the white bedsheets- was fascinating. She'd just have to stick around long enough to see it all.

---

Location: Hotel Room
Mood: Content

EclecticSpica · 2025-03-31T03:57:11-0400

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

LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: flushed / tired

River’s grin widened as Armand finally gave in, a small victory that felt like scaling a mountain of sheer grump. She tried not to focus on his expression as he leaned in, but the sharp initial sting still drew a soft gasp from her lips. The pain was fleeting, melting into that familiar cold sensation—one that numbed her mind, slowed her heart, and loosened the tension in her shoulders. Yet… this time, it wasn’t as draining.
No, this time felt different. More deliberate. More… personal.

Her breath hitched slightly at the realization. She had chosen this. Not out of desperation, not out of circumstance, but out of intent. Armand wasn’t taking from her—she was giving it freely.

A faint warmth bloomed on her cheeks, the pink flush creeping up to the tips of her ears as she turned her head away, trying to mask the reaction. It was ridiculous, really. What was she blushing for? It wasn’t like—

A shiver ran through her as he pulled away, the sudden exposure of the bite to cool air making her wince. The sensation lingered, buzzing beneath her skin in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

When he asked how it felt, she flinched and immediately yanked her arm back, clutching it tightly to her chest like he had just caught her in something indecent.

“It felt strange,” she blurted out, the honesty tumbling from her lips before she could stop it.

Too honest.

Her fingers twitched against her sleeve before she let out a sigh, shaking her head as if trying to rattle loose the odd sensation.

“Too gentle… I suppose,” she admitted, tone unsure as she absently toyed with a stray strand of hair. It felt like it should’ve been worse—like it should’ve hurt more, like last time. And yet, it hadn’t. That was what unsettled her.

Then, just as quickly, the familiar exhaustion began to settle in. River blinked hard, her vision blurring at the edges for a moment before sharpening again.

‘Ah. Not as strong as I thought,’ she mused, exhaling through her nose as she stood, only to plop herself unceremoniously into the chair across from Armand.

“We should sleep,” she murmured, tucking her legs into her chest with practiced ease, curling up into the cushions like a cat squeezing into an impossibly small space.

Her voice softened, muffled slightly as she turned her back to him. “Or, well, you should….do whatever it is that beasties do.” It was a weak jab at best, lacking her usual sharpness, too weighed down by the heaviness in her limbs. She closed her eyes briefly, listening to the steady rhythm of her own breathing.

“I just need to rest for a moment. The world’s dizzy and blurry again,” she murmured, voice quieter now, like the haze was pulling her under. A part of her wondered, distantly—if she got stronger, would this feeling ever go away? Or was this simply what it meant to be close to something like Armand?

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-03-31T13:53:00-0400

That sudden reaction, from the flustered blush to the surprising amount of honesty she answered him with... "Honesty suits you, you know?", was that a fair thing to say after giving her a vampire's kiss? Knowing her, it would lead to either a jab or a slap to make him snap out of it before calling him a fiend- so he kept the thought to himself, instead just offering a smile and nodding at the mention of the bite being gentle. "I don't intend on forcing it upon you again. And I'll be more careful to not draw too much, too. I don't want you getting-"

His words trailed to a halt as he saw her suddenly slump into the chair, beginning to curl into herself. All of that energy that she had prior... it was gone. It wasn't because he needed his 'bloodbag' to be in top shape so he could eat easier- but rather, just to see her be able to sustain herself better before and after the feeding... he wanted to make sure he was taking care of her as best as he could. Memories of her marked body ran through his mind as he remembered the malnutrition, the bruises.

"We got a room, but... she'll be needing food as per usual. It's not about keeping her alive to stay fed, it's about making sure she's safe like I promised.", he reaffirmed his own thoughts, knowing fully well his responsibilities as soon as he was done with this bothersome rest. "I said we don't normally sleep.", much like her own weak jab, he fired back with one of his own and tried to roll his eyes in an exaggerated motion, though that really just made the dizziness settling in his head that much worse. They had to lighten the mood somehow- he was out of it, but he could tell River was more affected than she'd expected from the feeding she herself offered him.

With a nod, he shuffled slightly in the bed and tried to get comfortable, thinking about giving her the softer mattress... but knowing just how bloody it was getting and how much worse the rest of the furniture would get if he moved, he decided it was better to stay put and not move her. He'd make up for it later... somehow. "... Thank you, River. For our freedom.", it was a low murmur that she might as well have missed given how tired she was, but it was the last few words to escape his lips before he closed his eyes and felt his body shutting down.

...

Admittedly, it was a bit scary to have a corpse on the bed. Not that he was dead, but the paleness of a slumbering vampire, the coldness of his skin and the near complete stillness his shallow breathing allowed for made him look damn near identical to one, especially if someone had never laid eyes on this phenomenon before. Over the night, the layer of scarlet that had begun to work its magic, taking on the form of skin much like an outer shell. From there, the hollow insides of his injuries began to regenerate, slowly filling back up as if he had never been harmed to begin with.

If there was anything to say about the process, it was that thankfully noone could tell what was going on, not even Armand in his current state. All he knew was that the moment he opened his eyes the next morning, he'd definitely feel sore and numb from how much blood had focused on closing his wounds up. Effective as his natural regeneration was, it was damn expensive when it came to his blood reserves, his main source of energy.

And yet he would be nowhere as pathetic as the day before, when he needed to be slung over River's shoulder and dragged in like a drunkard.

The sun must have risen, given that prickle in his skin and the light trying to pry its way into his eyes. With his fingers twitching, he took a moment to adjust to being awake once more, rarely ever feeling the weakness that came with waking up from a deep sleep. Armand opened his eyes and sat up all in one move, and- "Gods, that light's blinding."

...

The room looked so unfamiliar in broad daylight though... it was almost like an entirely different place, to even think that the lighting had changed instead of being the same yellow, mucky lamp's glow keeping everything just lit enough to move around. Pushing himself off the bed and looking around however, River was nowhere to be seen. "River? Are you here?", he called out into the room, but... nothing.

A quick look around yielded no results either, as he found no traces, no marks, not a note... not a thing at all. "Where did you go River?", he asked and like a response, he heard some tapping from outside. This was one of those heavy-handed jokes she'd manage to play down somehow, wasn't it? He let out an exasperated sigh and moved towards the inn's door, rolling his eyes as he did. It wasn't funny, but as long as he got to see her, then he'd be fine.

He placed his hand on the knob and sighed as he turned it, pulling the door open. "Really funny, menace. What's the big idea this time?", it was only after he'd asked noone in particular that he noticed she wasn't outside. The vampire blinked in disbelief, his green eyes darting from one end of the corridor to the other. Maybe the man at the end would be able to guide him along..?

He shied out and left the door just open enough to come back to the room afterwards, unsure where the key for it was- he couldn't be assed enough to care right now either. Instead, he took slow steps towards the man that had stopped further down the hallway, seemingly inspecting something with his back turned to Armand. "Excuse me, sir.", he called out to the black-haired man donning an outfit almost too rich looking for the inn. It was by no means cheap, but he'd expect to see something of this sort in a mansion rather than a random inn in the middle of... right, he still had no idea where he was. Back to the matter at hand-

"Have you seen a short brunette wandering about the building? She has a room on this floor and...", his words slowed down as he saw the man lift his head, hearing an odd series of noises no different to crystals clinking against one another. One that was all too familiar- his eyes widened as he jumped backwards, just in time to dodge a diagonal slash from a blade out of crystalized blood. "Why the hell are you-?!"

He didn't even have the time to bring his thumb to his mouth and bite it before the assailant, with a mask similar to those one would see in masquerades carved out of bone, attacked once more and slashed right at his eyes.

"..!"

A loud gasp sounded as he immediately sat up and opened his eyes once more. The sun was still rising and the room was nowhere near as brightly lit as he thought it was. His eyes were open wide as he felt all over his own face with a hand, his chest constantly inflating and deflating as cold sweat made its way down his temples. "Then... that must have been a dream? But it felt so real...", the vampire swallowed dryly, feeling his body sore, especially his back.

But this... that was nothing after that wake-up. "Wait, if that wasn't real, then River?", he turned his attention to the armchair where he'd seen her before, unsure if she'd already be up and at them or knocked out like she seemed to be the night before, prior to him drifting off.

---

Location: Hotel Room
Mood: Stressed

EclecticSpica · 2025-03-31T14:16:57-0400

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

LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: coy / curious

River had slept through most of the night, curled up in the awkward chair as if it were the most luxurious bed she had ever touched. Maybe it wasn’t the chair itself, but rather the sheer relief of knowing—for once—no one was breathing down her neck, no one was dictating her next move. The weight of that freedom settled over her like a thick, warm blanket, lulling her into the deepest rest she had felt in years. She only stirred when a sound—soft and rhythmic—broke through the haze of sleep. A gentle tapping. River’s eyes cracked open, lids heavy with lingering exhaustion, only to widen in surprise. A bird flitted along the windowsill, hopping from point to point, its tiny beak pecking at the wood as it fussed over building a nest. The golden hues of sunrise framed its small body, casting long shadows across the floor. ‘Not a dream,’ she thought with a snort, quiet laughter slipping past her lips.

She shifted, stretching out her limbs, only to pause as a strange tingling ran through her arm. A glance down revealed the bite mark still fresh on her skin, sending an embarrassing flush straight to her cheeks. The memory from last night surged forward, unbidden. She pushed it down with a quick roll of her shoulders, bones cracking from the movement. Despite it all, she felt strangely well-rested, as if her body had finally been allowed to reset. Her gaze drifted toward Armand, who—despite his claims that vampires did not sleep—looked entirely lost in some kind of slumber. His usual sharp features had softened, his chest rising in a steady rhythm that betrayed his apparent need for rest. River snorted at the sight, hands on her hips.

“Guess you’re missing out on the sunrise, beastie,” she whispered, shaking her head. But then, her attention shifted to their clothing. Her own costume, wrinkled and splattered with dried blood, was hardly ideal for traveling unnoticed. And Armand? Well, he wasn’t faring any better. Walking around town dressed like this was a surefire way to attract the kind of attention they didn’t need. River bit the inside of her cheek, considering their options.

No money. Nothing to trade.…Unless. Her eyes flickered around the room before they landed on the iron key resting near the bedside table. She snatched it up, pausing for only a moment to debate leaving a note for Armand. ‘No, I should be back soon enough.’ A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as she slipped out of the room, silent as a shadow.

The inn was quiet at this hour, its wealthier occupants still lost in their comfortable slumber. If there was one certainty in this world, it was that the well-off never rose with the sun, nor did they concern themselves with the figures moving in the dim hallways. River moved with careful steps, her years of dance making her light on her feet. She navigated the halls until she spotted a maid, busy gathering linens and laundry from various rooms. Judging by the size of the garment bag she carried, she wasn’t just handling standard bedding—she was dealing with personal laundry as well.

Perfect.

As the maid turned into a room, River acted swiftly, slipping behind the pile of gathered fabrics. Her fingers danced through the stacks, brushing past soft linens and towels before finally landing on what she needed—fresh, clean clothes. Suppressing a victorious grin, she snatched a bundle and darted back the way she came, making it to their room just in time to see Armand stirring. Except… he wasn’t just waking up. He looked disoriented. Tense. And panicked? River froze for half a second, her mind racing. Had he somehow known? Could vampires sense theft? That would be incredibly inconvenient. No, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had succeeded, and Armand would undoubtedly benefit from the change of clothing. She straightened her back, plastering on her best nonchalant expression as she kicked open the door.

“G-good morning!” she greeted, voice only slightly strained as she balanced the pile of stolen linens and garments in her arms. She flicked the door shut with her foot and beamed at him. “I found rations!” she announced, as if she had returned with something noble and essential rather than stolen laundry. River cleared her throat, shifting under the weight of his stare.

“It’s best not to ask how I did this, but in my opinion,” she shrugged, tossing the bundle onto the chair she had slept in, “nobody will even notice.” She hesitated, tilting her head as she took in his posture—stiff, tense, almost… shaken? Her brows furrowed slightly in concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked, voice softer now. Her lips pursed before she added, almost hopefully, “Did you see a ghost?” Her disappointment was evident before he could even answer.

“I wasn’t aware there were ghosts lingering here,” she muttered, eyes flickering around the room as if searching for one. Now that would have made her morning.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-03-31T14:59:06-0400

His head snapped almost right away to the side as he heard his companion enter, his heart skipping a beat. It took him a good moment or so to focus his gaze and realise that was her- no tricks, no more dreams, just... "H-Hoogh...", he exhaled and sunk slightly in his own body, his breathing beginning to even out as he nodded at her. "Now that I know you're fine, I am...", no effort was made to hide the concern in his voice as he raised an eyebrow at her question of ghosts, though the brow quickly dropped as did the rest of his face at her muttering and looking around.

"... didn't know you aspired to be a comedian that much, you rising little star.", the man groaned as he turned his body, letting his legs hang from the side of the bed and taking a deep breath before he pushed himself off of it, grunting a little. Sore, cramped and slightly hurting- but that besides, he could stand and move around on his own again from what things looked like. "You were out cold last night after I fed from you- are you okay..?", his own voice softened as he took a step closer, his eyes scanning up and down for any sign of weakness.

She looked like she just finished her shopping trip and hadn't managed to grab a bite herself.

... "Wait, how did you-", as the mind fog began to clear up, he remembered last night. They didn't have any money, and that certainly didn't just trickle in through the window whenever whatever god was up above felt rather generous. "But we didn't have any money, I don't...", at this point it was a matter of time until the grogginess washed off, and it just about did when he understood that she had taken them. "Nobody will even notice."

Truthfully? This is not how Armand did things, and this alone was normally enough to make him upset. But... he raised a hand to his head, shuddering at the thought of exactly how much trouble they could be in if she had gotten caught instead. "Y-You... River...", he spoke with more hurt in his voice than anything, but as he looked at the pile and back down at the clothes, it was easy to notice he quickly made peace with her choices, and without much trouble either. "No, I... you... urgh. L-Let's not make a habit of this, please?", he asked as he turned to her, smiling awkwardly... he was requesting cooperation more than anything, because he knew he didn't have it in him to force her otherwise. Attacking her once when he did had taken all the boldness left in him, and look where that got him compared to his original plan. He wasn't taking chances like that again.

Straightening his back after he finally connected the dots, he turned to look behind him at the bed and winced, seeing the little spots of blood here and there all over the mattress. It had long now dried, though some parts appeared a bit damper than the rest- that... "They can clean that, right..?", a rhetorical question surely... though he sounded as clueless as he really was. A part of him was hoping that it was another customer's check-in he'd listened in on when he heard a plea to keep the room clean in his daze.

---

Location: Hotel Room
Mood: Groggy/Relieved

EclecticSpica · 2025-03-31T16:21:31-0400

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

LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: focused / bashful

River sifted through the various garments, towels, and bedsheets, deliberately avoiding Armand’s gaze. He was right—it wasn’t right to steal. But it had been necessary. She hadn’t been caught, and that was all that mattered. Holding up a loose-fitting blouse and a pair of pants, she wiggled them in approval before pressing them into his hands, her fingers brushing against his in the exchange. “I know, it won’t become a habit. It just… needed to be done,” she said, piling the towels on top for good measure.
She followed his gaze, wincing when she saw what he was looking at. “No,” she assessed bluntly, already ripping the sheets off. “Maybe if we’d cleaned it right away, the blood would’ve come out. But this?” She squinted at the dried specks, scratching at them as if to confirm. “This is set in. Better to toss it.” She gestured toward the pile of stolen linens with a triumphant grin, though she half-expected Armand to say something about it.

But when she glanced up at him, something about the way he was looking about the room made her pause. There was something unreadable in his expression—not quite judgment, not quite amusement, but something heavier, something that made her heartbeat stutter for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely. “You should take a shower or a bath—you look awful,” she quipped, hoping to break whatever strange tension had settled in him. “And if I’m the one telling you that, you know it’s painfully true.” She wiggled her eyebrows before moving on.

“Besides, I need to adjust the clothes I found for myself, and I’m quite excited to not wear a corset for once.” That thought alone sent a flush to her cheeks, realizing too late how it might sound. She turned quickly, grabbing at the fabric to keep herself busy. “We also need to figure out where we are, find food, and get money.” She rattled off the plan as if saying it aloud would ground her. “My earrings only bought us one more night here, so we have to make the most of today.”

She hesitated before adding, “Unless you’d rather I try my hand at more pickpocketing? Seems I have a knack for it.” she was joking, only partly at that. Her mind wondered if the sudden skill was something she could have inherited from a father she had no recollection of. Her mother certainly wasn’t the quiet or coy type. Her fingers busied themselves again, tearing through the ruined sheet with a bit more force than necessary.

“Oh, and before you ask again, yes, I’m fine.” Her voice was steadier now, but something in her tone suggested she was reassuring herself as much as him. “Like I said, it just felt… too gentle.” Her grip tightened slightly on the fabric. “I’m not used to that. But I suppose I’ll grow accustomed to it in time.” She didn’t look at him when she said it, but she could feel his presence, the weight of his attention, the way the space between them suddenly felt too small. The rip of fabric filled the silence between them as she worked, as if tearing something apart could put her thoughts back together.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-03-31T17:52:54-0400

It took him a hot minute before he understood what was going on, accepting the clothes in his hands and looking down at them curiously, with a tilt of his head almost before he glanced back at her. It did catch him off guard to be told he needed to shower however, hissing at the idea and raising a hand to the back of his head, scratching it awkwardly. "H-Hey, I always take good care of myself, you know... I'm not that...", before he finished, he remembered. That blood on the sheets that she was presently ripping apart came from his back, didn't it. And on his back were his clothes- "Alright, alright, I'll go get ready then..."

More shockingly however, she mentioned adjusting the clothes she'd be wearing, earning a wide-eyed look from him before a brief clap. "Did you pick that up from the costumer, or?", there wasn't a hint of sarcasm in his voice as much as it was simple awe at the matter-of-factly way she poised her next goal. "Do you even have the tools to adjust it proper?", if not, surely he could offer some assistance with his blood... then again his reserves were rather low and his blood was the exact reason they were changing to begin with.

Armand was about to start making his way to the bathroom, all until he heard her speak. His hands dropped a little, still holding onto the clothes she'd handed him as he furrowed his brows with some concern, unsure exactly what to say to her. When she said it last night, it felt like a good thing. But now, he was wondering how exactly she meant it- there wasn't any point in assuming the worst of her, she already knew he wouldn't put her in harm's way if he could help it. "... I could never force it upon you. Especially not when you're offering like that on your own.", he simply reassured her after a few seconds of silence, bar the fabric being ripped apart.

There wasn't much else to be said, so from that point onwards, he simply walked to the bathroom, halting once he'd stepped through the doorframe and rather than closing the door behind him, he waited for a moment. "She looked tense, like something's on her mind... What should I say..?", though it felt like much longer, it didn't take him more than a second or two before he found the right answer, at least... for now.

"I know it just needed to be done. I trust your judgement, River."

And with that, the door closed behind him. In the solace of the small bathroom, there wasn't much left to do but to try and clean the mess he carried with him up. Taking off the costume and otherwise posh clothes, all to throw them rather unceremoniously on the floor by the shower before he stepped in. From the moment he turned the water on, he allowed it to wash the muck off of him, from the dirt to the blood smeared all over. Drop by drop, soon enough the only things he could hear were the water drops and his own thoughts.

"It's for the better that she only got us two days. There's no way it'll sit idly by, so if we stayed any longer we'd be putting ourselves in danger... In that sense, changing clothes too is a smart move, as is staying on the move until we figure out how to get it off our tails for good. And if anything attacks, I've got to be ready. Otherwise...", his mind was quick to race right back to that horrid nightmare he woke up from earlier.

After a few minutes, the water had stopped running and before too long, a very different Armand came out. Instead of the usual shirt and vest, he was wearing a simple blouse and pants befitting of a true commoner, not the stage's prince she'd been seeing for so long. That, and this Armand was no longer covered in filth and blood like he had just barely made it out alive from some act of terrorism.

"It's a very... humbling, experience.", he commented lowly on his own state, looking down at the bundled up clothes in his hands with some pain in his eyes. "I really did like these, you know... it's a shame they'd grab too much attention right now.", a complaint in the form of a low murmur, followed by a shake of his head before he sought out the pile to throw them right on top of it. "You're going to wash up too, right 'stink master'?", the vampire asked with a grin, crossing his arms and snorting at his own joke. She was definitely rubbing off on him some.

"Just don't take too long, I remember you wanted to ask some questions? You'll forget them before you get the chance to ask at this rate."

Maybe it was the pretend-cocky smirk on his face, or just the fact his face was a lot cleaner, but... it was nothing like how he looked or felt yesterday. No longer was he pale, shaky or dazed. If not for the clothes being too simple, he might even look to be in a better state than the best she had caught of him in the theater, at least as far as his health went. It was only now that he slowly began to realise how calm and content he felt, no longer needing to worry about his escape plan, getting caught or the horrors of the next feeding. And that alone was enough to crack the make believe confidence and reveal the smile of pure relaxation hidden behind.

A false sense of security perhaps, but... it was better than a constant sense of dread instead.

---

Location: Hotel Room
Mood: Refreshed

EclecticSpica · 2025-03-31T20:12:04-0400

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

LOCATION: Hotel Room
MOOD: focused / bashful / teasing

River shooed off Armand’s questions, her brows creased with focus. She couldn’t just let him in on every secret she had. Well, whatever ones she still had to hide. It was like each day spent with him was another day he found ways to slip past her defenses—learning more about her without her even realizing it. The sound of running water filled the room, and the tension in her shoulders eased instantly. Get a grip, River. She shook her head sharply. Stop thinking about it.

Her scowl deepened as she caught herself dwelling on the memory of his bite, her fingers ghosting over the mark on her arm. The pain… wasn’t really pain. Not like she had expected. She’d braced for something sharp, something searing, but instead, it had been—gentle. It wasn’t just the absence of agony that unsettled her—it was the way he had looked at her afterward, his lips just barely parted, his gaze dark and unreadable. It was the kind of look that made her stomach twist, her throat close up, and—gods help her—she was almost certain that if he had leaned back in, she would have let him.

No. No biting from the neck. That was a new rule. That was too—intimate. Could bites even be intimate?

River bit down on her bottom lip, a sharp reminder to stop thinking about it. Instead, she turned to the garments she had found, smoothing a hand over the fabric of a simple dress. The soft blue hue pleased her, and best of all, there were no suffocating ties or buttons to wrestle with. Her fingers trailed across the material, lingering longer than necessary. The idea of slipping into something that felt… normal—it was almost too exciting.

She startled when she heard movement behind her, quickly snapping her head up as Armand stepped out, her eyes lighting up as she saw how he looked. ‘Normal’ Without hesitation, she trotted over to him, lifting up her latest creation with a triumphant grin. With the scraps of the ruined bedsheets, she had fashioned a makeshift tie—far from perfect, but enough to mask the stolen garments.

“I think you look quite handsome,” she said without thinking, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she attempted to loop the tie around his neck. She failed. A heavy sigh escaped her, and with a dramatic roll of her eyes, she shoved the fabric into his hands instead. “Fine, do it yourself,” she huffed, already moving away to grab her own garments. As she passed him, she stomped on his foot—not hard enough to actually hurt him, but hard enough to make her own toes throb in protest. She refused to let it show.

“I’d prefer you not pay attention to how long or little I take while unclothed. Heathen.” With a pointed flick of her hair over her shoulder, she disappeared into the bathroom before he could respond.

Alone, River made quick work of stripping away the tacky costume, relief washing over her as warm water cascaded down her skin. Her hands moved to scrub away years of caked-on makeup, and for a moment, she let herself revel in the sensation of simply being clean.

Then she glanced down.

The bruises were still there. Some fading, some new—the harsher ones trailing along her legs from a particularly cruel rehearsal only days before their escape. She inhaled sharply, pressing her fingertips over the marks. He’ll notice.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the warmth of the steam, the way it curled around her like an embrace. By the time she stepped out, wrapping herself in the towel, a grin had already made its way onto her lips.

Humming, she ran her fingers through her damp hair, carefully working through the tangles before tying it back with a strip of fabric she had repurposed into a ribbon. Then came the dress—the soft, simple garment that, for once, made her feel… normal. Maybe even feminine. She let herself enjoy the feeling before finally stepping out.

River found Armand easily, striding toward him with a flourish as she gave a quick spin, letting the fabric swirl around her legs. “What do you think?” she asked, her voice lighter now. “Quite normal, yes? I found good options!” She twisted slightly, proud of the way she had pinned the dress to fit snugly against her waist rather than hanging loose like so many of her previous garments. “It isn’t very fanciful, I suppose, but the beastie prince was too busy slumbering to actually help find clothing.” She folded her arms over her chest, smirking up at him.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she added, “We should find something to eat. I can ask my questions while we walk.” She turned, searching for her pointe shoes before throwing a final glance over her shoulder. “That is, of course, if you’re feeling less like an old man beastie.”

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-04-01T13:02:52-0400

Seeing the tie that she'd managed to tear out of the bedsheets, his eyes widened- hells, he even squealed out of surprise when she approached him and suddenly tried to loop the tie herself, only to find it pushed into his own hands. "Handso- wait, where-", he hissed at the step on his foot as she appeared to storm right out of the room and into the bathroom, earning a confused look out of the man. "Hey, what happened to me being the best sod out of that sorry bunch in the theater?", and yet is words were met with the shut door, simply bouncing back at him.

"... She's so much more lively now.", even after that confusing of a mess, he couldn't really hold it against her or think anything but light of this 'explosion' of hers. Instead, he just chuckled to himself and made way to the window for a moment, trying to spot himself in its reflection... nothing. "The fact she's even thinking that far ahead about ties and good looks... god. She's such a handful.", Armand sighed out and tapped at the window, his gaze turning almost nostalgic before he smirked from the corner of his lips. Different days long gone in the past, both the theater and what followed before, when he could still see his own image.

There was a lot of time ahead of them, and yet not enough all the same. By the time she was done with the shower, he had managed to put on the tie under the blouse's collar, making sure to keep it buttoned up but just enough to not make him look like some old crow ready to bark at the tiniest mishap. With a hand in his pants' pocket, he let it feel around and try to get comfortable with this different fabric, all the while the cold metal of the pocketwatch he'd been able to keep from the theater cooled his fingers off, little by little.

Hearing the door creak as she opened it up, he looked over his shoulder to see her own new attire. "Holy shit, you look great.", it was like his jaw dropped and he spilled his thoughts out without a second thought, clapping his hands together lowly in awe. In the theater, he really thought she could have just been a lost girl when they first ran into one another, but to think that right now she looked like a completely different person... it was such a big change of pace, he could hardly believe it. The mention of a slumber got him to smile, though it was somewhat forced.
The need to force it fled quite quickly as she accused him of being an old man once more, turning his smile into a teasingly irrate looking grin. "That beastie thing's really starting to stick, isn't it? Is it because you're not afraid of getting bitten again?", he made his way to his bed, sitting down only to put on his loafers before he was back up at his feet, dusting himself and sighing. He'd clipped the chain of his stopwatch to the rim of his trousers, admiring the simple appearance with a content look on his face.

"Pray tell... what are 'we' eating again? Or rather how?", Armand thought to start with the basics, stepping to the door and placing his hand on the knob, turning it proper and slowly letting it open as he looked back at River, rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. "Hurrying me along and yet you're still taking the longest, you know that?"

The 'what', he truthfully didn't care much for. The 'how' on the other hand was on his mind a lot more. Whatever they'd have to do to get money, they would need to be discreet and not attract too much attention, given they didn't know how long they had before they'd run into familiar faces. Who was it even going to send after them, if it decided to chase them down and collect their dues? All these thoughts ran through his mind, but... it was best not to share them unless she caught onto their predicament herself first. For now, his job was to protect her, keep her safe, and more urgently, keep her fed in much the same way she had.

"I've hardly ever seen human food with much interest before, and yesterday I couldn't pay attention to anything on the way here. Surely... you've got the general gist of the street, right?"

... clearly wishful thinking, thankfully for him.

---

Location: Hotel Room
Mood: Prepared/Flattered

EclecticSpica · 2025-04-01T13:33:03-0400

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

LOCATION: Hotel
MOOD: curious

"You are a beastie," River said with a shrug, ignoring whatever mild annoyance Armand may have felt. Well, if he was annoyed, she wasn’t entirely sure. She finally found her pointe shoes and quickly began wrapping the silk ribbons around her ankles, wiggling her feet to settle the shoes into place. Not ideal, but they’ll do, she thought, furrowing her brow as she fell into step beside him. “A beastie with how you bite, a beastie with how you look at women, a beastie for attacking doors, and a beastie just because I think it’s a cute nickname for you.” She shrugged again, completely unbothered by her own logic.

She locked the door behind them and handed off the iron key, trusting him to tuck it away safely. Her gaze swept the hallway as she tried to recall where the elevator was. “I don’t really remember much. I was a bit too focused on finding a sign that said ‘inn,’” she admitted, tapping the button she vaguely recalled summoning the device. The soft chime that followed made her eyes light up in fascination.

“Could you not just”—she lowered her voice and wiggled her fingers in his direction—"woo or charm a woman or man into giving us money or food?” She leaned back slightly, looking at him expectantly.

River cleared her throat, ready to clarify. “I mean, this ties into my questions. Since apparently you were hiding powers I had no idea existed, is it possible for you to just charm your way into getting us something safer? Not to mention, you said you might remember things after we left the theater. Have you had any sudden memories come back?”

Before he could answer, the elevator dinged open, and River peeked inside, tilting her head. No bellhop. That only seemed to excite her more. She eagerly shuffled them both in, hesitantly twisting a few knobs and pressing buttons until the machine jolted and began to move.

She grinned up at Armand. “I can go a day without food. I’ve done it before. Hells, I’ve gone weeks without it. I just prefer not to if we can avoid it.” She sighed, considering their options.

“At the theater, the costumer had a board where she listed her task list. It was meant to show everyone what she was working on, but she liked when people helped her finish tasks. She’d reward them with trinkets, money, food—whatever she had lying around. Maybe there’s something similar here?” She shrugged, offering her best alternative.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

Gary Sue · 2025-04-01T14:36:17-0400

"How in tarnation is beastie cute..?", that was the most she was getting out of him when it came to making sense of her train of thought. A defeated sigh and now they were in front of some door, leaving him to raise a brow as his eyes tracked down to the button River eventually pressed. "Well... there's no place like home, and we sure as hell are not going back to that 'home'. The world's our oyster now- or so you lot say, don't you?", he tried to reassure her after she spoke of knowing nothing, though his attention was grabbed as he too was wowed by the chime.

"Oh?", talk about fascinated with how much higher his voice's pitch had gotten.

...

"Wait, why do you think I could-", the look in her eyes had him stunned. Not helping was the proverbial smack to the back of his head that followed in the form of her question about charming people. "That doesn't-"

The damned thing dinged again, peeling his eyes off her for the doors to open. With hurried steps from his companion, he stepped inside and looked around, crossing his arms at his chest's height and looking down at River, hearing her thoughts out for moving forwards... it seemed they had some fundamental disagreements to get out of the way first. So much like her, he cleared his own throat and raised a finger while this uncomfortably small space moved down- it was down, right? Some odd contraption this was...

"Firstly; you are not going a day without food if I can help it. I need you in good shape, otherwise I won't be able to say I'm even remotely taking care of you or offering you more than that prison was.", his voice was stern, but it sounded more upset with her assuming he'd allow it rather than her proposal to push her own needs aside. It would be hypocritical for him to only now take offense to something like that, given the shtick he pulled the day before during their escape.

"As for odd jobs... I... don't know. Do you reckon there's-", anyone to ask? It would be best to not leave any accounts behind that'd help identify them if anyone were to ask around. His gaze narrowed a little as he reconsidered his proposal, deciding to swallow it down instead and dismissing it completely. "... no, never mind me. I shan't ridicule myself so before thine ever-judging gaze, o' dearest ice queen.", that disgustingly theatrical tone of his took over as he tried to feign a joking attitude. It was the best way to keep her mind on what mattered right now, food and money. "Let's do some looking around and see what's available in the near vicinity first. We can move freely, so let's take advantage of that."

... he still hadn't answered her question about his 'powers'. "And while we're at it, let's take the 'beastie' topic from zero again. What in god's name do you think I can do..? Since when am I supposed to be able to-", much like her, he wiggled his fingers towards her with a playful wiggle of his brows, "- woo a woman such as yourself just like that? I'm a damned bloodweaver, not a human charmer. What's the word about me over in the backstage dorms then?", he figured that's where she'd gotten her information all wrong and mixed up.

Oh, and another ding that made him perk a little and turn to the door, watching it open as he let out another low 'wow.'.

When the doors opened, the bellhop standing not too far away gave them a glance and nodded in acknowledgement, though he made no effort to approach. It would appear he was still rather soured the way they appeared last evening, or whatever his problem must have been. Armand simply returned the gesture, looking a bit more focused with taking in the inn's lobby now that his vision wasn't all hazy and blurry. "You've got good taste, you know.", he shrugged, stepping out and looking over his shoulder to make sure River was following right behind.

"Have you had any sudden memories come back?”

... the lobby reminded him of something, though it might have just been deja vu. The only other thing he could think of, was his nightmare. Was that a memory, or just his mind playing tricks on him when he was at his most vulnerable..? "... For the record, I did see something. Before you found me spooked at the room- I know your eagle eyes leave no inch of mine unseen.", he pretended to be bothered by that statement, though his verbiage was quite intentional.

"I can't tell if it was just a dream, but... I saw someone like me. 'Beastie' and all. Wore some mask, but I can't tell you much past that yet.", Armand kept it as brief as his memory would allow at least. In the heat of the moment, there was nothing else his eyes had picked up. Hopefully, he wouldn't be given a second chance to, seeing as this was all a nightmare after all... here's to hoping. Pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment, his eyes gravitated towards the door leading out of the establishment, gesturing over with his head as he finally stashed the key away from his other hand to the same pocket his stopwatch was in. "Streets of the great beyond, here we come."

---

Location: Hotel Room -> Hotel Lobby
Mood: Thoughtful/Curious

EclecticSpica · 2025-04-01T19:14:42-0400

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

LOCATION: City streets
MOOD: curious / cautious

River couldn’t stop laughing at Armand’s reaction, her cheeks beginning to ache from the sheer joy of it. “The Prince Beastie is curious once more about what people are saying about him, hmm?” she teased, grinning as if he had just stepped into a well-laid trap. “Quite curious, curious indeed. I knew you weren’t the mysterious and aloof sod they all painted you to be.” She snickered again before dashing out of the lobby doors, breathing in the crisp city air.

She barely made it a few steps before pausing, rubbing at the soreness in her legs—small aches that never truly faded. With a glance over her shoulder, she checked if Armand had noticed before straightening and moving forward again as if nothing had happened.

“A dream?” she echoed once Armand joined her outside. She glanced in both directions before trusting her gut and heading right. “A dream isn’t a memory, is it? Or is that how vampires dream? You all just… have memories?” She squinted ahead, trying to imagine how that would work. The thought sent a shiver through her. Dreams were where everything went right, where nothing bad happened. The idea of reliving only memories instead? Horrifying.

She stole a glance at him, watching for any flicker of reaction—anything that might hint at what he had dreamed about. The way he held himself, the way his expression shifted—anything that would let her piece together what he wasn’t saying.

“I didn’t notice any strange man or beastie lurking about when I went exploring, not even for a moment. But I did notice that we’re in a wealthier part of the city, which makes sense if people were coming to see a theater show for fun.” She pursed her lips, an idea sparking in her mind.

Her fingers absentmindedly brushed over the fabric of her dress, smoothing down the wrinkles as if trying to make herself blend in better. A useless effort, she knew. She still felt out of place. Too new to this life of being seen. Her fingers fidgeted with the makeshift ribbon in her hair as she looked around, taking in the well-dressed people passing by, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air.

“Armand?” River slowed to a stop, turning to look at him. “Should we report what happened to us to the authorities? What they did—surely it isn’t legal, or right.” She searched his face, watching for the smallest shift. “Maybe there’s a reward for information? What if there are records of missing people—people we know were killed at that theater?”

She took a breath, trying to ignore the way her pulse had picked up. The idea of standing before an official, of explaining what they had been through, made her uneasy. But if there were missing people, if there were families searching for them—wouldn’t they want to know?

Still, something in her gut twisted, a whisper of doubt creeping in. She studied Armand’s face again, waiting for any sign of what he thought.

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞

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