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

[Gary Sue]

"I-I'm not curious, I'm trying to figure out how much you think I resemble a witch, you fiend!", he quickly barked to correct her, hearing her snicker and groaning as he placed a palm to his face, shaking his head in disbelief. Still, stepping outside of the lobby and taking in the sight of the bustling street, even if it were still the morning... "... It's been so long since I was last here. This is... damn.", his thoughts were followed up with a deep inhale as he grinned, looking down at the steps to notice River rubbing something on her legs. Then she sneaked him a glance and received a nod in return before she seemed to be back and at it again.

Stepping down the stairs, he looked down at her and followed along with her, humming lowly. "Not that she really was all that trustworthy, but... Diane mentioned she had dreams of times she'd been really ashamed or embarrassed at events before. I figured it might be something similar then? I don't sleep often enough to know.", Armand shrugged and placed a finger to his chin, grinning a little as he mused out loud. "I wonder if she's out of my dressing room yet."

Regardless of the miserable dancer's fate... his expression soured a little again. He was so engrossed in running his fingers over his eyes and checking that they were fine once more, that he didn't notice River had been looking back at him this whole time. A simple smile and curt nod, trying to not let his woes drag her down any. "So you were saying, the wealthy part of the town?"

The idea she shared up next... it got him thinking as he drew to a halt too, crossing his arms. With his lips pursed into a slight frown, he looked at her and hummed thoughtfully. "... do you reckon it has associates outside of the theater..? If so, doing that would be...", a very bad idea... but- right, he couldn't just be paranoid all the time. He closed his eyes and thought things through for a moment, before grumbling and nodding to her. "We can ask, but let's not be too targeted with our questions. Keep it vague and pick up some clues... maybe some intel would be a good way to get money like that."

... wait. His eyes lit up as he noticed a newspaper in someone's hands, walking about in the background as they were. "... what if we haggled with a journalist somewhere around here to sell a story to them..? It could give us enough to get you fed and let us plan out where to go next.", he shared the stroke of genius that had just conked him over the head, certain that there must have been some ruckus about the disappearances the theater caused time and time again.

"If we're going to get chased down, we might as well make some money if we can out of it. It'll give us enough to keep us going without having to resort to River's sleight of hands and whatnot... then again, as a last resort...", whatever he thought up, did make him wince proper. "... I-I can't let her get her hands dirty alone... urk."

"How does that sound, then..? We ask around and see if there's anyone working for the press nearby? And- what do you think I can do, missy? You still never answered that."

---

Location: Hotel Lobby -> City Streets
Mood: Thoughtful/Curious

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: City streets
MOOD: curious ​

---

“Newspapers,” River repeated, squinting as she considered the idea. Could journalists even be trusted? They felt shadier than the demon that had slithered through their shadows, watching their every move—at least, she assumed it was still lurking. Truthfully, she still felt the demon’s grasp, as if it had left invisible fingerprints on her skin. Each step she took further away from that cursed place felt… pointless. Like something was still pulling her back.

“I suppose we could trust them for now,” she allowed after a beat, though the words felt heavy on her tongue. “If anything, we could spin a story about the romance behind the stage. That always sells, right?” Her lips curled in amusement, though there was a flicker of something else beneath it. She knew every couple in that theater—it had been impossible not to. Especially when she could hear their… intimate moments through the paper-thin walls of her dormitory.

A visible shudder passed through her, followed by a relieved sigh. At least she would never have to hear that again. She thought back to the previous night—how quiet it had been—and felt a peace settle into her chest.

River blinked up at Armand as he once again asked what she thought he could do. And once again, she laughed.

“Missy?!” she snorted, smacking his arm without thinking. “Goodness, I knew you were older than me, but who even calls someone Missy?” Her teasing grin widened as she deliberately dodged his question, drawing out the moment like a cat playing with a string.

“Oh, but I am a lady, Armand,” she huffed dramatically, tilting her chin up. “You really ought to treat me as such. I’m starting to think one of your skills is lying about your ability to act all princely and dignified.” She clasped her hands together, fluttering her lashes at him with over-the-top sarcasm.

Her amusement lingered for a moment longer before she shrugged, finally caving.

“Honestly? I don’t know what you can do,” she admitted. “That’s why I keep making suggestions—just to see what sticks.” She lifted a brow at him, folding her arms. “You are the first vampire I’ve actually gotten to speak with, you know. So you don’t get to be annoyed at my weird questions when you refuse to just tell me what you can and can’t do.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder, as if that settled the matter.

Then, something clicked.

“Wait… do you not have a clan or something?” she asked suddenly, eyes narrowing as she turned to him. “Diane used to talk about her clan like it was some grandiose thing that I should be bowing to. Do you not have one?” A pause. “Should I be bowing to you?” she added, her lips quirking mischievously.

Before he could answer, a distant voice cut through the noise of the street—a young boy shouting something absurd about the latest news. River’s ears perked, and she scanned the crowd until she spotted him. She stilled for a fraction of a second before pointing him out to Armand, eyes flicking back to gauge his reaction.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

Armand was a bit confused by her proposal, but... he nodded, raising a hand to his head to scratch its back in thought before he sighed. "H-Hum... I was thinking something along the lines of the truth or confirming the rumors, but I... suppose something like that could go too.", he mused once more loud enough for her to hear, though the look of confusion he gave her spoke for itself. "... Do most people really care for idle drabble like that..?", the vampire wondered, grumbling to himself and faltering for a moment. If this got them money, then...

Suffice to say, he was snapped out of it quite immediately when he felt his arm smacked, hissing. "O-Ow, hey!"

"Let's get one thing clear, I'm not that old just because I won't ever look older! Always looked mature for my age and this-", he gestured from head to toe with one hand, exhaling almost too passionately, "- isn't helping my case either! I'm only barely in my mid-20s, thank you verily Lady River!"

The flicking of her hair made him roll his eyes, still rubbing the part she smacked so naturally with his lips pouting some. "Remind me to not get on your bad side often, yeesh.", he murmured to himself, halting when she questioned where he was from. "... A clan?", he repeated and gave her a curious look as she asked once more, though unlike her, he seemed to be entertaining the idea as though he weren't all too sure himself. "I don't... think so. None of my own, so it all comes down to whether-... Whether..."

While River was trying to get a feel for wherever this noisy boy was, Armand found himself putting a hand up to his chin, rubbing it in thought with furrowed brows as he focused his eyes on the pavement a few steps further ahead. "... I'm forgetting someone important.", he muttered to himself, trying his best to recall whatever it was- no, whomever it was, that he was forgetting.

As an image, it was still vivid in his head. Among a clearing of rubble from a collapsed building, he laid on the floor injured and weak. Though it wasn't all too well lit, the moonlight shining in from the lack of a roof was enough to light up the form of his savior, who was holding a hand out. And yet... though he remembered taking their hand, it was like something had tampered with his recollection of events, leaving behind nothing more than a blurry haze in their place. Their silhouette unclear, and no name or slightest bit of information to speak of either.

River- she was moving a lot. He raised his head to focus on her again, seeing an almost expectant look and following her finger over to the boy, only for the slight hope in his face to be replaced with skepticism. "... I don't know if... Er...", he scratched the back of his head once more, closing his eyes and trying to figure out how to best phrase it. "... I'm unsure if he works for the press, but... surely we could ask for some information on how to contact journalists and the like, if he's so happy go lucky with spreading the good word?"

... too flowery, but it probably got the point across. Then again, it would be unsurprising if he'd missed it entirely given just how deep in thought he was until he'd realised River wanted an answer out of him.

"Alright, two things, you.", he said with a lower voice, his eyes constantly darting between the boy and River. "Anything I know I can do, I'll share with you later. Besides that-", Armand halted for a moment, perking a little to look at the boy as he prepared to move spots, causing him to groan. "Later, let's catch up to the little bugger first.", the vampire sighed out, raising a hand to get his attention as he took some hurried steps towards the kid, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was following right behind him.

"Hey you- you wouldn't happen to know where the nearest press office is, do you?", his approach was much more stilted and awkward than his usual, and River could probably almost tell that he was trying to soften his voice and play the part of a street bum, a bit too much like one of the roles he'd had to play in the past.

That did however cause the paperboy to lock up, going completely quiet and just staring up at the man who spoke to him, and placing an arm on his hip. "..."

"... I've got a story I'd like to share with one of the journalists for the newspaper..? Think it could make the headlines and whatnot, so if you could perhaps... give me a hand, aye?", now, were the twice as skeptical stares he was getting from the boy because he had no idea what he was even talking about, or because Armand perhaps looked a bit too out of place acting like that, even to a complete stranger?

"... is that so? You don't look the type to be involved in interesting enough stories yourself.", the paperboy's words were all but laced with poison as Armand felt too stunned to even muster a response, instead gasping and staring at it in a mix of amusement and abstract horror. "Wh-What did he just..? Surely I don't- For crying out loud, this is definitely more up River's alley."

---

Location: City Streets
Mood: Awkward/Flabbergasted

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: City streets
MOOD: Mischievous ​

---

River snorted at Armand’s reaction, his frustration only making her grin wider. Oh, how predictable. His response did nothing but further prove her point—or at the very least, it was keeping her thoroughly entertained. With a sage nod, she pressed her lips into an exaggerated pout, her eyes brimming with mock sympathy.
Still, she kept herself quiet as she dutifully followed him across the street, her steps light and unhurried. She tilted her head from behind his shoulder, peeking around him to get a better look at the boy hawking the newspapers. Her eyes flickered to the ink-stained pages, squinting at the headlines.

“Whatever story we have is far better than whatever slop you’re peddling,” she snarked, arching a single brow in challenge.

River stepped lightly from behind Armand, her fingers brushing the edges of the paper as she hummed in mock consideration. Let’s see… In a swift motion, she snatched one from the stack, her eyes flitting over the bolded words before she let out a dramatic sigh.

“Politics. Tension. Fearmongering. Disaster here, disaster there, but absolutely nothing of actual substance.” She rolled her eyes so dramatically it was a miracle they didn’t roll right out of her head. Looking up at Armand, she smirked knowingly before turning back to the boy, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Might I also mention,” she mused, lazily tapping her lip with the folded paper, “it’s all about the bad things that happen to the poor. Creatures of lesser makes. Not even the rich socialites.” Her tone was light, but her words cut with a pointed sharpness.

She shrugged as if the whole thing bored her. “I suppose he’s right,” she continued, tilting her head toward Armand. “Our stories would be a less than desirable read if people only want to wallow in the same misery they’ve always known.” A pause. Then, her voice lowered into something laced with curiosity, her gaze sliding back to the boy. “I mean—who would possibly care about a cursed theater stealing the rich from under their noses, yes?” She let the words linger, her expression unreadable as she watched for even the slightest reaction. "Or better yet, of a vampire heiress being captured and made to drink from already dead corpses..."

After a moment, she sighed out as if losing interest. “Perhaps we should look at a different paper,” she mused. “One not afraid to show the truth. Or one that doesn’t insist on making their own kind wallow in misery.”

Casually, she lifted an arm, the motion deliberate—just enough to let the light catch the bruises lingering on her wrists and neck.

“Surely,” she exhaled, her voice laced with a sweet, sorrowful hum, “nobody wants to hear about how a rich socialite, someone meant to be protected and privileged, is treated like a lamb to the slaughter.”

The words dripped from her tongue like syrup, slow and calculated. Then, with a careless sigh, she pressed the paper back into the boy’s hand, as if the entire conversation had already bored her.

Without another word, she reached for Armand’s arm and tugged him along, her grip light but insistent.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

"N-None of this is what we had talked about in the first place or on a second note, hold up River-", there was no shot they could even halfway pretend that things were as 'interesting', as River had fascinatingly made them sound. Plus, where the hell did any of this come from?! At first it was about getting the truth out, then about getting a romance out, and now about a vampire heiress? The man was stumped and his face was almost growing paler by the minute as he looked at River with near horror, turning his attention to the boy that was definitely going to tell them to scram.

He braced himself, and yet... that never came. Rather, his companion grabbed him by the arm and tugged him as if to move away, almost earning the vampire's protests before he heard the boy they were about to leave behind stammering, turning to look at him instead and keeping his lips tightly sealed. "O-Okay, wait, wait! Are you fully serious..? I- The other papers aren't half as good as this one. Trust me, this- this is the go to if you want more eyes on it all!"

"You're kidding me. How in god's name did- Ugh... River, you brilliant menace of a gods forsaken woman."

"So now we've got your attention then? It's a shame it took you too long to listen, isn't it?", the vampire straightened his posture and tried to put on the toughest shell he could, though he was sweating profusely mentally. Really, at this point he was following along the little liar's footsteps and sticking with that worked, which seemed to be playing hard to get in this case.

"Look, look!", the young boy quickly rushed to step in front of them, taking the hat off his head and grumbling before he looked up at Armand. "... We're looking, make it count.", he said matter-of-factly, although he was very much on the verge of apologising for even speaking to the little fellow like this.

"Two blocks down, the second building on the right side of the street if you continue straight from here. I... On the lobby, make sure to tell them Andrew sent you. Please? I've been trying to get a raise so maybe this- the stuff you two are telling me is definitely headlines material! Just tell them about me, Andrew Peterson, yeah?"

"River... my heart is steel, and it's starting to crack. G-Get us out of here pronto, please."

Could it even be steeled further? With little other options... this tragic hero could do naught but try. "Mhm... so be it then. We'll drop by and remember to mention you, little mister..."

"... Peterson, sir!"

It was like his melting heart quickly solidified back in one piece as he heard the boy quickly correct his attitude when referring to him, given the zinger he'd dropped prior. "Dully noted then. I suppose we'll have to stop by the press office shortly then, dear.", Armand tugged at River who was still holding onto his arm, waiting for the boy to step aside and bow with gratitude as he did before he began to try and lead her away.

Once they were far enough to be out of sight, he couldn't help but let a drawn out sigh of relief as he slumped his shoulders forwards, looking to his accomplice by his side. "R-River, what the hell are we up to now..? We don't have near enough stories to cover all that range you talked about, and the little boy-", no, on second thought... He stopped himself, coughed to clear his throat and rubbed his chin before he grunted. "... actually never mind about the little brat, but- the stories. What was that about, I thought we said we would... keep it true?"

Actually, never mind that. More than anything, it wouldn't take too much thinking to figure out he was stressed out by the tough act he had to put on and the amount of improvisation necessary back there. "P-Please do all the talking on your own next time, if I have to do that again... Hoogh... Good heavens, this is hard work..."

---

Location: City Streets
Mood: Guilty/Worried

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: City streets
MOOD: coy ​

---

River practically vibrated with energy the moment the boy fell for her trick. A bubbling excitement swelled in her chest—part thrill, part triumph. Truthfully, she had only ever seen such a trick work in a play once before, and amusingly enough, it had been one Armand himself had performed in.

Her gaze flickered toward him, watching for a sign of recognition—some little twitch of memory—but his expression told her he hadn’t the faintest recollection. River barely suppressed a grin. Of course, he wouldn’t remember. He had never been cast as the cunning trickster, the quick-witted rogue. No, no— Armand had always played the dutiful ones, the honorable ones, the ones draped in princely regalia.

With a playful nudge to his side, she tightened her arm around his as they walked toward the direction the boy had suggested. “Relax, Armand,” she purred, her voice laced with mock reassurance. “They’re true, sort of.” She pursed her lips, lifting her gaze to his as she blinked her lashes innocently.

“I heard a lot of things in that theater,” she continued, tilting her head slightly. “Tall tales, truthful tales, sorrowful tales, and—” a mischievous glint flashed in her eye “—lustful ones.” She let the words hang in the air for just a moment before adding with a thoughtful hum, “Just because people weren’t allowed to speak to me didn’t mean they stopped speaking around me.”

Her mind worked quickly, weaving the next thread of her plan even as they walked.

“I witnessed a lot, too,” she went on, her voice dipping into something softer, more thoughtful. “Whenever I was being punished, it was usually in the darker corners of that theater. And you know what that means, don’t you?” She peeked up at him with a knowing smile. “It means I got to see what people really do when they think no one’s watching. Our lovely fellow actors? They’d hide there—whisper their little secrets, or do other things in the dark.”

Her smile widened as she hugged his arm closer to her chest, her warmth pressing against his sleeve. “I’m only retelling what I heard down there.”

Her expression turned delightedly smug as she looked up at him. “You,” she said pointedly, “need to pretend you’re one of your characters next time we do this.”

She lifted a hand, tapping his arm lightly as if to remind him.

“Just think—you’re a detective, or some mysterious traveler new in town.” She gestured vaguely with her free hand. “You pretended for years at the theater. You can do it again, just for small, fleeting moments—for the sake of our survival.”

Her words had barely left her lips when her gaze lifted, landing on a building up ahead—the one Andrew had described.

Her grip on Armand’s arm unraveled in an instant. “Now then—tits up, big smile,” she declared, practically beaming as she freed herself from him. “Let me do the talking.” She didn’t wait for a response. With a graceful bound, she leapt up the steps, balancing on her pointe the moment she reached the top.

Grinning down at Armand, she waved him forward, eyes sparkling with playful insistence. “Hurry up, darling.” Then, with a teasing lilt, she added, “Remember—you’re just a character in a play right now.” She watched him, waiting for the smallest sign that he was ready before turning on her heel and stepping through the doors.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

Up to this very moment, the two of them had gotten along fairly easily. Though River had been holding back a little with Armand, he never assumed having nothing else to worry about would let this little devil on the loose. And a lecherous one at that, given how she turned from what almost sounded like a piece of her, to a piece of all the filth hiding in the backstage's literal corners. Amidst the bombardment of questionable words, he didn't even have the time to dwell on being flustered as she let go of his arm, earning a defeated grumble out of him.

"Hey, hold on a minute... I don't know what you saw in the theater, but I had a lot of time to prepare those 'characters of mine'... Night in and night out when you lot slept, plus- everything's rooted in reality to a degree, I can't just manifest-"

“Hurry up, darling.”

There was no winning this. "The moment when I helped her escape from the theater... what the hell did I let loose from that door? It hasn't been more than an hour or two at best of us being awake, and I'm already starting to lag behind when it comes to my own thoughts. Is the whole world too much of a mess, or is River a gods forsaken hurricane..?"

Right... she had that expectant look on her face. He wore a purely pleading look for a moment or two before he slapped his own cheeks, exhaling. There were some exercises he had picked up in the theater, but they worked best when he wasn't going all in on improvising whatever mess of a plan they'd ultimately roll with. For now... he would just have to try and build a persona off the few interactions they had with Andrew. "Keeping everything nice and uniform like that will make them easier to work with. From the personality, to the 'strategy' to get their interest... mean spirited as it is."

“—tits up, big smile.”

He followed up behind River with slow and calm steps, trying to keep as collected as he could with that smug big smile on his face- and it was trying its best to peel right off, but try as it might, Armand's will was ever so slightly stronger than that. Safe to say, the moment the lobbyist saw two unfamiliar faces, she was unamused to say the least. "... You wouldn't happen to be Larry and Nancy, would you? The meeting was yesterday."

"No, not quite.", Armand spoke almost annoyed, though he was quick to scoff it off and raised a hand to slick his hair back. "Me and my companion might have a few stories of interest for-"

"If it's more of that neighborhood riff-raff nonsense, The Forum's offices are a few blocks down, can't miss them.", she was quick to interject, and that was just as fast to wipe Armand's smile from his face.

Maybe he was getting too in character as he leaned in to the counter and placed a hand on it, his smug grin having wiped off completely as he felt his brows arch down more and more at the attitude. "It's really rare to see journalists and associates willing to throw headlines to their competitors, but I suppose- that's a headline in and of itself. What good relations you lot have with one another.", he chuckled mockingly, turning to look at River and gesturing towards the door in a practiced motion with a flick of his head. "You heard her, dear. This is why that kid Andrew wanted us to mention him perhaps, knock some sense into these fools, alas. Let's find someone who will actually-"

"H-Hold your horses, give me one damn moment you two.", the initial sarcasm they were met with had been replaced completely with a near fearful and respectful demeanor instead. As much as Armand's heart begged to go out to her... this was one shift of attitude too much for his liking in one day. "You've got one, make it count. My patience was already wasted with Mr. Peterson."

The moment she heard the last name, it was like something in her awoke as the brunette quickly reached out for a phone on her desk, spinning the dial fast but precisely as she began to mutter into the microphone. A step too far, perhaps, but the tapping of Armand's fingers sure seemed to make her tone dance that much more as she sped up her passing over all this information, with Andrew's name being dropped somewhere along the way.

Soon enough, she had hung up and gestured towards her left, where a familiar set of metallic doors laid for the elevator leading up the building. "A-Ahem, by all means... One of our journalists will receive you right from the moment you enter the floor, please... My sincerest apologies for the demeanor, it's been a... rough day, really."

Armand finally pushed himself off the desk and back onto his legs fully, nodding along and looking at River with a triumphant look to disguise the bullets his body was trying its best to not sweat out. By the time they were in front of the elevator, he pressed the button to call it and heard a jingle, much like the one in the inn. Looking to the side at her, he just let out a quiet but really drawn out exhale, feeling as though his soul was leaving his body. "Y-You're taking main stage here, I'm... why does every single person out here respond to dickish attitudes, pray tell..."

The elevator must have been nearby seeing as it already arrived, and the doors opened wide for them to enter with noone else inside. Stepping in, Armand waited for her- probably the most comfortable he'd feel for a good minute was when the doors would close and he could just slump his shoulders forwards for a moment, let a sigh out and compose himself for the mean stare-down he'd have to give whomever they were going to come in contact with next.

---

Location: City Streets -> Post Office Elevator
Mood: Stressed

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Post Office Elevator
MOOD: coy / concerned ​

---

The moment they stepped inside, River’s head twisted this way and that, her wide eyes drinking in every detail. The smell—ink and paper, dust and sweat. The rush—the whirlwind of motion, people darting past with purpose. The noise—voices overlapping, the sharp clatter of a typewriter, the occasional bark of laughter or frustration.
It thrilled her. It terrified her. She barely had a moment to process the chaos before a man nearly plowed into her, arms stacked with papers, his face buried in a story too important to see where he was going. A squeak of delighted surprise escaped her before she could stop it.

River dashed forward, closing the space between herself and Armand in an instant, her fingers gripping at the fabric of his sleeve as if anchoring herself. But even as she clung to him, her attention flitted everywhere else—not to the person speaking, but to the stories already unfolding before her very eyes. In just a handful of moments, she had already noticed—
A woman, denied a story, her expression tight with frustration. A man clutching a letter so close to his heart, as if it might disappear. An older gentleman discreetly adjusting a wig atop his head. And another man—laughing—mentioning something about adjusting his clothing to fit a tail for his newborn.

Cities are fascinating, she thought, flicking her gaze up as Armand shifted beside her.

His dry remark pulled a snort of laughter from her lips, and she shrugged, completely unbothered. “It is because you are attractive when you get all snotty and stern. People like listening to attractive people.” she answered bluntly, stepping into the elevator and immediately setting to work on understanding this one. It wasn’t too different from the others. After a few seconds of quick study, she figured it out.

“We should look for a female journalist,” she mused while they had a rare moment of silence. “She was denied a story by someone who looked important—probably someone in charge.” River tilted her head, considering the energy that buzzed around them. “Do you suppose all newspaper buildings are like this? It’s chaotic,” she noted, grinning up at Armand. “I keep feeling this hum in my stomach—like stepping onto a stage in new pointe shoes.” She gave her hands a little shake, as if to dispel some of the excess energy, but then—She noticed his slump.

For a moment, her own excitement paused. Armand had already spent years forcing himself to behave a certain way for the theater—performing in a different sense. And in the few weeks they had known each other, she had learned something important about him. He wasn’t like her. He wasn’t the type to thrive on madness or unfiltered energy. Her teeth caught her bottom lip as she hesitated—then, with a quiet kind of care, she reached down and slipped her hand into his. A small, comforting touch. River allowed her touch to remain tender, rare and silent.

“You’re doing a wonderful job, Armand,” she murmured, giving his fingers a small squeeze. “I know this isn’t ideal—but we do have a demon breathing down our necks. We don’t know when that creature will come looking for us.” She met his gaze, serious now. “The sooner we find a way out, the better.” Another squeeze. A quiet reassurance. Then, a soft grin. “I promise—no more exciting or chaotic moments once we get out of this town.” She tilted her head, her voice lightening. “We’ll focus on slow and simple things. Like…”

Her grin grew, teasing now. “…perhaps a walk through a garden? Or—oh! Perhaps seeing something called a museum?” She blinked up at him, innocent as ever. “You like old things, don’t you?” A giggle bubbled out of her at her own joke, her fingers still lightly curled around his as the elevator climbed.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

"I thought people much preferred a gentleman to a fiend raised by wolves at best...", that was much less of a complaint and more so confusion on his part when it came to understanding those around him. Then again... it was very easy to mistake being kind with being a people pleaser, and it was safe to say which of the two Armand belonged to at times, given how Diane was treating him up to their escape.

When he tried to think of all the 'holes' in River's plan though, he suddenly felt a warm and gentle touch, looking down at his hand to see her own. And then he felt it too as she squeezed his fingers, raising his gaze to look at her in the eyes. The vampire appeared almost stunned for a good moment before he nodded at her, a knowing smile emerging on his lips once again. "... I know. I'm just trying my best to keep up with you.", he admitted lowly and rather humbly at her effort at encouragement, wearing an almost proud look on his face as he decided to look away for a moment.

"... Of course she'd know we'll be hunted down at the end of the day. She's not stupid, and she's more than cunning enough to figure it all out. I'm happy... at least this way, I don't have to 'break it to her'.", her joke was enough to earn a much more refreshed smirk from him, and though the smugness from the lobby was there, it was a lot warmer. More welcome, pleasant... and pleased, too, though with her more than anything.

"Mhm, what am I but a living antique after all?", to reassure her that all would be alright the same way she had just done for him, he squeezed her hand softly in his own and turned to the elevator door once more, wearing a more thoughtful look on his face for a brief minute. "... someone was going to be waiting for us at the elevator's exit on floor three, as soon as we arrived. Do we demand the female reporter then, say that Andrew sent us or so?"

Things were already difficult enough as was with them making up most of their plans on the fly, but if they talked them through in advance, then it would be much easier to wing it moving forwards, as long as they had a general idea of what to expect from one another. "Throws the little snot under the bus, but... you had a reason for wanting the female reporter, right?", the elevator dinged as they passed by the second floor, and for a brief moment the hustle and bustle tried to pry its way into the metallic box, from the incessant ringing of phone lines to loud conversations of a thousand different tones seeping in.

It was enough to make Armand's skin crawl for sure as he shook his head in disgust, shuddering. "... maybe she really was trying to look out for us and send us to another press office...", he mused lowly and raised a hand to his tie, adjusting it slightly and making sure the cinch was pulled tight as the elevator's hike up slowed down. "Alright... you're up, honey."

That was his 'parting blessing', as far as any privacy was concerned, though its weight was alleviated tenfold by the playful wink and squeeze that followed. With a final chime from the elevator, it began to open and a man in a suit quickly reared his head, looking in at the duo. Skeptical at first, he was quick to do a complete turn around and flip his frown upside down, smiling in too slimy a manner- Armand wished he could look that detestable if he tried.

"Why hello there- the ones Andrew pushed our way, aren't you? Why don't we head on over to my desk and...", he looked towards where his desk presumably was, but the boisterous colleagues seemed to sour him a little as they argued too loud for his liking. Instead, he stood on the tip of his toes and spotted a nice, empty desk near the corner of the floor, by a window. "... rather, just somewhere quiet for now. Tell me all about your story, will you? If I may, you two are Mister and Missus..?"

Keeping a composed interior, Armand looked towards her with a slow turn of his head, giving her a nonchalant look. To hells if she didn't know he was screaming on the inside for more than one reasons, the biggest of which their very much mistaken fellow. "And here comes River's magic..."

---

Location: Post Office Elevator -> Post Office 3F
Mood: Relieved/Content

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Post Office
MOOD: determined ​

---

River nodded thoughtfully as Armand agreed to her suggestion, her arms loosely crossed and her gaze distant with calculation. “I believe she’ll have just enough drive to take whatever we offer,” she murmured, mind racing ahead as she spoke. “I know a wronged face when I see one, Armand. And someone like her? Our story would be a gold mine—not just professionally. She’ll feel like we saved her, and in return?” River grinned. “We might just walk away with an extra cut.” It all made sense in her head—half instinct, half gut feeling—but she wasn’t one to pretend she had a perfect plan.

“I am not sure how exactly we’ll get her on board,” she added with a small shrug. “But I’ll figure it out as we go.” She was mid-thought when Armand muttered something with the word ‘honey’ tucked inside. Her nose wrinkled instantly, lips twisting in mock disgust.

“Honey?” she echoed, dropping her voice to mimic his tone. Her eyes narrowed playfully. “No wonder you’re alone.” Before she could add more sass, her posture snapped straight—because in front of them stood a man.

Not their reporter. River blinked at him, then tilted her head slightly, looking him over from head to toe. The silence between them stretched, just long enough to make it uncomfortable.

“No, sorry,” she said flatly, voice casual. “We’re here for someone else.”

The man blinked in confusion, furrowing his brow, lips parting to speak—But River didn’t give him the chance. She grabbed Armand by the arm and dragged him past the man, her eyes locked on someone else entirely. A stout woman, face tight in a permanent scowl, sat behind a cluttered desk that everyone in the room seemed determined to avoid.

“She’s perfect,” River whispered, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of the chase.

Behind them, the rejected male reporter trailed closely, voice growing more urgent. “Don’t waste your time. You should really be talking to—”

River tuned him out. She could see now what made people avoid the woman. The angry burn scars that marked her face and arms. The hair, left in frazzled ringlets. The hard eyes. The way her mouth pulled down, like a warning to stay back. But River didn’t slow. She plopped into the chair across from her with a sunny grin and no hesitation.

“Hello! Andrew Peterson sent us,” she said sweetly.

The woman flushed at the name, eyes flicking to Armand, then to the man hovering just behind them—his face contorted with a scowl.

“I…pardon?” she asked, clearly confused. The man behind them cursed under his breath, but it was too late. The woman—now grinning wickedly—folded her arms and raised her eyebrows. “You know the rules,” she said coolly, addressing him. “First one to get ‘em to the desk gets the story.” His angry sputter quickly turned to insults before he stormed off, defeated.

River didn’t so much as glance at him. Her focus was entirely on the woman before her.

“Well,” the woman said after a pause, sitting back in her chair. “Name’s Sophie Ailin. I’m flattered you’d pick me, but I should warn you—you might have better luck with that guy over there.” She tapped her cheek, right where the burn was darkest. “People don’t like listening to the freak, you know?” She tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a quiet ache behind the words.

River, however, only smiled wider. “My name’s River, and this is Armand,” she replied, her voice gentle but confident. “We just came from a theater that’s being run by a demon, and we need money.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’ve got a million stories to tell you,” she added, motioning for Armand to sit beside her without missing a beat.

Sophie paled, her skeptical gaze jumping to Armand as if silently asking Is she serious?

River didn’t hesitate. “I’m telling the truth,” she pressed, voice calm but firm. “And if you haven’t noticed yet… there’s a pattern in this town. Rich socialites disappearing. One by one. No one’s realized it yet because they’re all visitors.”

She nodded toward Armand, giving him the unspoken go-ahead.

We can trust her, her eyes seemed to say. She’s already been pushed aside. She knows what it feels like. And that makes her dangerous… in the right way.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

It was almost magical, seeing the scene unfold before his eyes just the way it did. And yet, his role was to presently stay as unshaken as River was and follow her lead. Soon enough, they'd made it to Sophie's desk, much to the other journalist's frustration, and the introduction he heard was enough for his smug smile to drop. It was replaced by a much softer look, both in his eyes and on his lips- a frown of sympathy almost as he let his eyes rest on her burns. "... the outcast, then."

​

And shortly after, everyone's attention was on him instead. He took a moment to clear his throat and looked at River as she nodded to him, nodding back and looking at the journalist sat across them on the other side of the desk. "... we can take advantage of this opportunity to push the story without embellishing it then. Two outcasts to another- fucking hell, River.", these thoughts passed through his mind as he exhaled and placed a hand on the desk, ready to speak the truth from what he'd seen...

Time almost froze for the vampire as he ran scenarios through his mind of every different way he could start this conversation off- what was the best way to put their position? Or to pitch the deal that they would need to cut and get their 'bounty' for this fresh scoop they were handing over just like that? But in truth, it was no more than a second or two of deep thought before he opened his mouth.

"I'll give you any and all information I know, all the incidents behind the scenes and the disappearances, on some conditions.", his attitude that he'd put on when dealing with anyone else thus far had been relieved completely. No, this time he was simply tense, knowing just how hard these terms would be no matter how he put them. No more acts, no tricks being played or shows put on. Just... him, being himself right now.

"Firstly. Our identities remain a secret for our convenience. Like River just said, we escaped recently and I've no doubts we'll be hunted down starting today, if the creature running the theater has half the muscle it does wit.", as he spoke, he tapped his fingers on the table and so far, it seemed he had all of Sophie's attention. And yet the scrunched face looking at him was all but spelling out the question she wanted to ask "And how will they know I'm not making the story up?".

"I... I can give you some names of missing persons. Women, varying in age.", Armand blurted out almost hesitantly, flinching a little and looking down at his hand as he realised that created more questions than it gave answers. "... I'm a bloodweaver, and the demon would offer me 'meals' after shows on occasion. Some of them had documents on them that I could use to identify them. I don't have my notebook with me anymore, but I remember some names off the top of my head.", he sighed out, remembering the worn leather notebook he always kept at the corner of his dressing room's counter.

His tapping came to a stop as he frowned a bit more and raised his eyes to look at her, instead raising a finger. "Secondly. We're going to be on the move for a while- that's why we came here. In exchange for the stories... we want some compensation. It's a lot to ask, but-", he halted when he noticed Sophie was already at work writing details from what little he was saying, even though he was sharing nothing in particular. And yet he had her full attention, much like River had confirmed with that nod earlier. "... to my understanding, this is a big deal. And adding onto that... if you give us a contact number, we can stay in touch. River's resourceful, and I... we can figure something out, in the event of a future arrangement."

Those sounded like good terms to start with... he glanced at River to the side, nodding hesitantly before turning back to Sophie, feeling some tension in the air. Perhaps though, that was his own anxiety flaring up more than anything with the uncomfortable nature of diplomacy, as things were.

---

Location: Post Office 3F
Mood: Tense/Eager

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Post Office
MOOD: excited / hungry ​

---

“I have a demon’s mark as well,” River added, grinning at the way Sophie’s head snapped toward her, wide-eyed.
“It’s proof of our story,” she said simply, twisting in her seat to lift the curtain of brown curls that usually hid the faint black mark coiled at the nape of her neck. It shimmered like smoke beneath her skin—a clear symbol of a curse, or worse, ownership.

Sophie gasped, already scrambling to jot down notes. Her pen flew across the page in chaotic, half-legible loops, some words forming theories, others wild guesses, and—River noted with amusement—even a few scribbled numbers, likely estimates on what the scoop might be worth.

As Sophie wrote, River gently lowered her hair again to conceal the mark, then leaned her elbows onto the desk. Her smile was almost teasing as she watched the reporter’s frantic handwriting.

“I’d suggest avoiding mentioning the mark too much,” she said, almost offhandedly. “I have a feeling that if you do, you’ll be eaten.”

Sophie froze, her hand pausing mid-sentence.

Her eyes lifted, searching River’s face for any hint of jest—but the girl only smiled sweetly, eyes too wide and calm to be comforting.

“It’s not by my choosing, if you’re worried,” River added, more softly now. “I just happened to see what happens to people who speak about it when they aren’t supposed to.”

She gave a light shrug and waved her hand, encouraging Sophie to keep writing. “You’ll probably get more use out of Armand’s stories, anyway. His story’s more grounded than mine. Or you can ask about the people we saw back at the theater.” River finally looked over her shoulder at Armand and gave him a small, confident nod.

Sophie blinked as though waking from a trance. “I… well…” she breathed out shakily, her pen moving again—this time quicker, almost like her hand was possessed by adrenaline or dread. She dove for a drawer in her desk and began rummaging through its clutter.

“I can’t pay much today,” she admitted, pulling out a slip of paper. “The story has to be accepted before there’s any real payout. But with something like this… A bloodweaver. A marked girl. Demons…”

Her voice trailed off as if the weight of what she’d just written was finally beginning to settle in.

“Tell me about a few of the women you remember from that place,” she said, trying to refocus. “Then go back to the front desk and tell them you’ve been given the silver level reward for a submission.”

She didn’t look at them as she tore off the mess of her previous page and started fresh.

“It’s not much,” she added. “Enough to get you a decent meal and maybe a carriage ride out of the city. Nothing far—just a day’s journey at best. But it’s a start.”

Her pen hovered for a moment, then scratched again across the page. “Once the story is approved and I can contact you, we’ll talk royalties. That’s when you’ll want to have more to tell me. The bigger the sells, the bigger your share.”

Finally, she looked up from her notebook, her expression more composed than before—sharp and businesslike.

“Do we have a deal?”

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

"... A vampire, if that helps.", Armand looked at River briefly before turning back to Sophie, chiming in as she listed the 'protagonists' of the story one by one. Hearing that they'd be able to get a meal out of this was a good start, but to think their funds would only enough for a day... that made him wince a little. She seemed to understand the situation the duo had found themselves in however, and she didn't look to disagree with their conditions any so far.

Clearing his head to focus on her request as much as he could, he nodded and adjusted his tie some before he leaned forwards, weaving his hands together. During his detailed descriptions of the women, accompanied with names, he avoided eye contact fully. His own voice had almost grown heavy as he came to the realisation that right now, the people whose names he was sharing were nothing more than fleshbags he left behind too. It didn't matter if he wasn't what killed them- he was the reason their bodies were in as crude a state as they'd ever be.

A socialite that wore an elaborate white dress prior to the play and carried a purse with her, decorated with jewels- definitely higher up on the pyramid. A woman with a smart getup, almost masculine in her clothing despite her sharp features. When he had caught glimpses of her during the play, he could tell her cutthroat attitude during any business talk just from a brief glance. And then a duo in near matching outfits with slim gowns and pairs of gloves, their colors matching the other's dresses. One of them wore a floral hat, while the other had a haircut too intricate and carefully tended to to not show off.

Though he struggled to recall their names at first, it all quickly clicked together as he tried to remember flipping through the pages on his notebook, sorting through the list in case he'd ever have to part with it- a decision he very much came to appreciate now. If it meant anyone could get some closure, family, friend or otherwise... then it was worth it.

"Before the rest of the incidents... do you think this will be enough, for now? And once you get some eyes on the case, we can trickle in the rest one after the other to garner more attention and get you readers?", the same sharpness in her eyes returned in Armand's gaze as he lifted it from his own hands, remembering the blood on them during every single one of those feedings. Though it never bothered him in the moment, looking back... it felt like he'd regret it, if it wasn't his only choice to survive.

To contact her again... right, the phones that were ringing on every single one of these damned busy floors. "Do you have a phone number we could call..? If we're on the move, you won't be able to find us. We're not planning on leaving any tracks behind for any to follow.", he stated their plan once more, furrowing his brows a little before he held his hand out, seeing as she had already ripped another piece of paper and gotten to scribbling down a number on it. "You talked about getting in touch again for the rest of the story... when should we call you, then? We'll figure something out until you can get the story approved, but we'll need to be the ones to reach out since you won't have any way to."

... this was a good outcome. Things were starting to look up for the two, and even if it was guaranteed just this once... they could get River a proper meal, whatever she wanted. He could make things right like this, one step at a time.

---

Location: Post Office 3F
Mood: Hopeful

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: Post Office
MOOD: excited / hungry ​

---

River snatched the slip of paper from Sophie’s hand, eyes lighting up with a curious excitement. She turned it over between her fingers, studying the phone number like it was a secret code. The contraptions people used to call one another fascinated her—she’d seen a few scattered throughout town, though never quite like the one on Sophie’s desk. That one was strange: crooked, curved, and attached to a box with a rotary dial she’d only ever seen spun once, and even then, the thing had screeched like it was in pain.

Clearly, she'd be experimenting with how it worked—once they were somewhere safer.

“We’ll call her once we’re out of harm’s way,” River said firmly, cutting off Sophie before she could speak. Her voice had lost its playful edge, if only for a moment. She cast a look between Sophie and Armand, noting the way Sophie’s hand fell from his, accompanied by a sigh of resignation.

“I don’t think we should stay in this town any longer,” she continued, turning her attention to Armand now, her tone dipping into something more serious. “Not really. First carriage, first train—hell, even a teleport spell if we can find a trustworthy one. We take it.” Her words were final, punctuated by the rustling of her dress as she stood. The meeting, as far as she was concerned, was over.

Her eyes had already darted to a small tray of snacks nestled behind Sophie’s desk—a few pastries and wrapped bars clearly meant for staff, but to River, they might as well have been a feast. Her stomach grumbled just thinking about them.

With a satisfied hum, River tucked the note into a pocket hidden in the folds of her dress and shot Armand a grin. Her message was clear: hurry up. Meanwhile River helped herself to at least one pastry, humming in delight at the sweet and buttery goodness that quelled her growling stomach finally.

Sophie, however, looked torn between chasing them out and dragging them back in. Her eyes flicked between them like she was trying to memorize every detail, every expression, every twitch. She looked like someone who’d just unearthed treasure but had no idea how to carry it all home.

“I… just be sure to call soon. A week or two at most,” Sophie relented, slumping back into her chair. Her fingers brushed her temple, the stress already settling in her expression. She looked nothing like the composed woman they’d first spoken to—just another victim of River’s well-intentioned whirlwind.

River cleared her throat dramatically and skipped over to Armand’s side, looping her arm around his and tugging him toward the door. “Let’s go already! You hate how stuffy it is in here,” she said with a teasing smile, tilting her head to look up at him. “Before someone else tries to ask us a thousand more questions.”

She gave Sophie one last playful wink before pulling Armand along behind her—feet light, heart pounding, and mind already racing ahead to the next step.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​

 

[Gary Sue]

Although River had let him handle the rest of the arrangements, she seemed a lot more proactive when it came to making contact with Sophie again, wanting to be as far away from the theater as possible. He was a bit shocked, but after a moment of deliberation it clicked- for her, the worst outcome wasn't death. It was returning back to her mother and worse yet, that prison while she was at it.

Nodding to his partner, Armand glanced over at the journalist and saw that she was a lot less satisfied with the plan, but... he couldn't do much beyond sending her a sympathetic smile. "... We'll do our best, Miss Ailin.", he tried to reassure the clearly distressed reporter, huffing at the thought of not being able to do anything more. But as he felt River's arm looped around his own, he rolled his eyes and smiled, nodding along. As much as he would have liked to help out Sophie... "... Right now, we're in a dog eat dog situation. So not my circus, not my monkeys. My priority will always be River's safety above all. This was just a way to get us a meal and a ride out."

Keeping the goal in mind, he raised a hand and adjusted the collar on his blouse as though he were sweating, fanning at his own face with exasperation. "You said it, out we go before that bugger finds us and starts throwing a fit again."

Having made the employee who welcomed them into this busy floor begin a spree of curses and insults, he really didn't wanna see what had become of him now that they'd spilled some interesting crumbs to Sophie. With the duo making their way to the elevator and going down it in a quiet ride, Armand could only deliberate how much fruit their efforts just now would bear. From here on out, before they'd have to think about it no longer, all they had to do was claim their rewards from the lobby.

They made their way over and the receptionist looked at the couple with great interest earning a wide grin from Armand whose mask had been put back on- that arrogant and ever so slightly detestable to look at bum impression. "We had a little chat upstairs, and... maybe you did have something to gain, keep an open mind, will you?", it almost sounded like he was scolding her as the woman before them clearly grew upset, but still forced a smile and dipped her head in.

"M-My sincerest apologies, sir... There's so many attention seeking civilians that try to give us tips and send us on wild goose chases, surely you understand, being involved in quite the interesting case yourself if you felt the need to rush over.", was she... trying to jab right back? Though the vampire would never quite give in to such banter on his own, he couldn't let her have the final word- quite literally, as they didn't have what they came here to pick up in the first place yet.

So holding his free hand out, he nodded and beckoned towards him with his fingers. "Oh, quite. Your associate, Miss Ailin, told me to request the silver level submission reward from you, was it?"

Her jaw almost dropped as she skeptically looked at the phone, only to earn a half-glare from the bloodweaver. "Are we going to need to wait, ma'am? There's a day to get on with, is there not? Shame to waste a precious patron's time like so.", he hissed almost too genuinely as he really did start to tire with this friendly fire being passed back and forth.

Few words needed to be said past that as she begrudgingly sorted through some drawers, seemed to jolt something down -most probably logging the transaction- and handed over an envelope to Armand. Accepting it and quietly looking down at it, he could tell it had the money they'd be needing to get a headstart on their situation. The good meal promised, a trip out and if they were lucky, maybe just enough for another meal past that the next day. "Never caught your name, but that's alright- take care."

As soon as they were out of that building, Armand made no effort to stop the deep sigh of relief from escaping his lips, looking at the lit up sky and shaking his head in disapproval. "I'm amazed you can even thrive in an environment like this, I feel like I would go crazier out here than back there.", he made sure to emphasize just how unbearable everyone in there felt, but... they wouldn't have to deal with them again forever, hopefully. Just Sophie, and she looked to be more than agreeable.

Proudly, he peeked into the envelope and grinned at the money stacked inside, even if it didn't amount to all that much. Again... it was a start. And judging by that quick snatch at the pastries back in the office, as little escaped Armand's gaze... he snuck a playful look to River and grinned from ear to ear. "So then, menace dearest... pick a place and ask nicely, and we'll see to it you eat well for the day. We don't have much time so we'll make the most of the time we do."

---

Location: Post Office 3F -> City Streets
Mood: Tired/Playful

 

[EclecticSpica]

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

---

LOCATION: City Streets
MOOD: excited ​

---

River was practically buzzing—whether it was nerves, excitement, or the sugar from the tiny pastry she’d just devoured, she couldn’t say. Probably all three. Her eyes sparkled wide as she suddenly sprang up onto pointe, instinct taking over before logic could catch up. “I know!” she squeaked, twisting out from Armand’s side with a sudden twirl on one foot. The movement drew a few confused glances from passersby, and one small child clapped without even thinking. River beamed, flushed with exhilaration. “I feel like I’m going to puke!”

She popped the last crumb of her pastry into her mouth and licked her fingers clean with all the ceremony of someone who'd just finished a five-star dessert. Then her lips, just because. “Is this what you feel like all the time?” she asked, looking to Armand with a breathless grin. “It’s like a rush—thrilling, dizzying… but also kind of painful. I had no idea I could talk to people like this. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t allowed to for so long?”

She blinked, mind ticking through theories faster than she could keep up.

“Mother would’ve had me whipped or chained to a bedpost if she caught me even glancing at someone she didn’t approve of,” she mused, lifting her arms to wiggle her wrists with theatrical flair. “And yet here I am. Unchained!” she declared with a snort, breaking into a giggle as she bounced from pointe to tiptoes, her body too full of energy to walk properly.

“I ate something,” she added, as if it were a rare accomplishment. “A real pastry. And honestly? I feel like I’m going to throw it right back up. I’m still getting used to eating again. Still getting used to… a lot of things.”

At last, she began to move forward beside Armand, her steps slowly shifting from dance-like flutters to a more natural walk. Still, if they so much as paused, her body twitched upward again—like standing still was a crime against her nerves.

“I wonder how phones work,” she said aloud, barely aware she was speaking. “I watched Sophie use hers for a bit, but I’ve never actually used one myself. Everything out here feels so advanced compared to the theater. Like I fell asleep in one century and woke up in another.”

She rattled on without breath, mind chasing the next thought before the last one even landed.

“Oh! And I have to say—these clothes? So light. So breathable. I used to be stuffed into corsets so tight I could barely think, let alone breathe. And always in pastels. Pale blues. Dusty pinks. It’s nice to feel my lungs again.” She sighed with pleasure, giving a spin to emphasize her newfound freedom.

Her eyes drifted to Armand, smile tugging wider. “You look different too,” she noted, reaching out to adjust the knot of his tie, still a bit uneven. “More approachable. Less grumpy and fake.”

With that, her gaze swept toward the people passing them on the street, watching their lives unfold as if she were seeing the world for the very first time.

---

𝄞 And so the music plays on... 𝄞​