There’d been a lull of her head, features sullen when considering the
approach of the other; as decent as he appears, it is the scent of him
in which has her on edge. “Something like that.” There is no tone in
vocals, her head shaking in the same manner that speaks of a teenager
attempting to go against the odds. “No one ever warns you what it’s
like to be hell bent on revenge until the bitter end. So the fact that I’ve
had such a thrilling evening is what has me on edge.” With another
look did Malia smirk, arms folding over her chest. “Considering how I
have managed to fuck up the most illustrated plan there is … can you
imagine the laughter?” The hush tone of a laugh surpassed full lips, a
moment of silence carried for her stupidity. “You do realize you’re now
living proof of your stereotype, right? Showing up in the dark and such.”
“ Well, it sort of goes hand-in-hand with the sunset.
There’s really not much I can do about it, sorry.”
An apology drained dry of its professed sincerity, it saw itself as a fine companion
for her similarly vacant tone. Harmoniously did they match with their diaphanous veil,
wholly reflective right down to the underlying transparency that betrayed them both.
Volatility marked her choice of words, her mannerisms - a liability for any organized
plan, illustrated or crude. The details of what exactly transpired to garner such
depreciation might’ve eluded him but based upon preliminary exposure, consistency
was all that he was qualified to recognize.
“ And that comprehensive plan of yours? Yeah, it’s going to blow over like
everything else. All you’re dealing with is a setback. They can laugh all
they want, but they’re just digging their own grave for when you show them
up next time. It’s 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 to get worked up over.”
imdeadxandimove lebratprincelestat man-of-many-faces-rp beautifully-damaged-soul feathersandthread vampire-chronicles-rp thewitchofdarkness psychoanalyticmystic kellenmotherfuckingvincent no-fairytales-just-fangs d-lenfent everlastingporcelain thenorthernsheriff devilsviolinist salems-little-sadist eternallybelovedbeauty yourneighbourjerry onlythelost-lovethelost gingerhairedimmortal idonteatbananas shewalksbetweenworlds lestatscherie gorgeous-fiend the-van-helsing-girl crackedportrait mariusmymaster eternallifeandmagic dr-hannibal-fucking-lecter brennaisaacbraeden myledgerisdrippingred vxmpxre cant-always-be-the-living-legend
Maharet slid behind the room divider so as not to be spotted right away. She observed the new arrival to the sanctuary with a curiosity. Why had they come and where from? Surely, they didn’t know she’d be here.
By divine senses and keen perception did he fashion himself an advantage
in his supposed solitude, needing not the gift of sight to pinpoint his additional
company or note their distinctly apprehensive approach as a pointed glance
made its accusation over his shoulder. As it happened, the art of discretion
was one that they’d evidently yet to m a s t e r — so much for anonymity.
“ Feel free to come out whenever you’re ready, no rush.”
Eyes widen in surprise at how casual the answer is. Waylon figured that he would say yes since Jerry was the one who’d talked him into staying, but he didn’t expect it to be so — simple. He smiles to himself, giving a slight shake of his head at his own misgivings when it came to Jerry and how he’d been so jumpy. In his defense he had just been shot, but it felt like he’d been overreacting. Especially with how at ease Jerry was with everything that happened. The man was able to smooth the awkward question over with his offhand attitude and Waylon envied his composure.
He manages to laugh when Jerry mentions a walking tour and shakes his head. “M’fine.” After that he quiets down and stays quiet while the other man gestures to where everything is. Waylon shifts on the couch enough to look over his shoulder at the kitchen, and then down the hallway. Not like he planned on going anywhere for a while, but it was nice to know where things were. Eventually he needed to take a shower and get the blood off of him, but maybe after some rest he’d be capable enough to get home and clean up there.
“Don’t think I’ll be moving for a while, no worries.” Waylon reassures him with a wave of one hand, his injured arm moving as little as possible to prevent any further bleeding or distress on the wound.
When he mentioned having questions, Waylon tries to think of something. His mind echoed back static, but then again he was about to fall over on his side and pass out as soon as his head hit the cushioning so it wasn’t that much of a surprise for Waylon to be struggling with cohesive thoughts. After a few seconds more of consideration he shakes his head ‘no’ and finally gives in and lays on his side — laying on his good shoulder.
“I’ll leave tomorrow. I really didn’t mean to put all of this on you.” Waylon closes his eyes, embarrassed, but too tired to acutely feel the sting of his own failures. “Pretty sure I owe you another coffee, or six.” That might make up for this. If only slightly.
Waylon closes his mouth, lips pressed together because he knows when he’s getting to that state of near delusional, incoherent mumbling and he’s already there. If he wasn’t careful he’d say something he shouldn’t and make things awkward all over again. To the point where even Jerry wouldn’t be able to smooth it out with some well placed charisma.
Despite his propensity for hospitality and casual colloquy, there was no good sense in competing against the inhibitive exhaustion hogging Waylon’s attention. His audience had been lost to lethargy, once furtive but now impossible to ignore with the cozy comfort of a reposeful cushion meeting his head in support. Rejuvenation of any interest more significant than that of rest didn’t seem very promising and with the pressing need for a change of clothes beckoning him still, the extraneous effort was abandoned and prompted him to take a stand in its stead.
Time was ticking away, and a
nightly requisite had yet to be met.
“ Yeah, something like that.”
Whether promised six cups or fifty, no amount of coffees could equate the means of reimbursement he had in mind but the underlying sentiment didn’t go unrecognized. Amusement showed face in his uncensored expression even as he escorted his chair to its rightful place, unseen and markedly sensitive in minding excessive disruption. For the sake of a good night’s sleep, the educative realism behind his collection terms was better off as yet another selective omission to join the rest. What mattered most was not Waylon’s solvency or the settlement itself, but the hours left to its ineludible deadline – the buildup to a payoff.
Conscientiously did his steps take to minimizing their noise while he straightened up the living area and took care of its small mess, bundling ruined bandages in hand for the trash and separating those clean for later. It was better to tidy up now lest the scent had a chance to permeate the entirety of his apartment and embrace him upon arrival. The chances of attracting notice during his imminent departure and subsequent return weren’t likely, not with Waylon barely fighting off unconsciousness by the skin of his teeth and the evening drawing to a neat close. It wouldn’t take any more than an hour; there and back again in no time flat — expeditious enough to be discreet, but not fast enough to beat the smell.
A finger readied on the rim of the light switch and one last sweep fell over the expanse of the room, leaving all but the issue for better presentation as priority before stepping out - a concern that involved him and him alone. Relieving the apartment’s main light source didn’t mark an end to his willingness to entertain, but Waylon’s drifting consciousness made a compelling point otherwise. Waylon was better off calling it a night, and he was only more than happy to lend his assistance one last time.
A click curtly cut through the pregnant pause,
and everything was swallowed whole by the ᴅ ᴀ ʀ ᴋ.
“ We can iron it all out tomorrow.”
Dead Man’s Bones - In The Room Where You Sleep
"That’s what you think. What human would knowingly follow a vampire, if they knew there were a possibility of their lives ending? I can’t tell you how many mortals have approached me, wanting me to turn them because they think their lives are miserable. Ha." he sneered.
“Marius would also prefer those of the mortal persuasion keep on living in ignorance of us, mon ami. What brings you to New Orleans?”
“ Bourbon Street, the nightlife, the locals, all of it. No particular reason, just visiting for a few days - a week, tops. I figured it was worth my while to take a trip since I was already in the area. So far, I can’t say I’m disappointed. It’s hard to go wrong with a place like this.”
“ — Makes me wonder how quickly it’d start to wear on you, though.”
I αℓωαуѕ stay [ｆｏｒｍａｌ] but when it’s neccesary to [ α т т α c к ] I’m a box of surprises.