open post 2025

[impractical]

leave a starter or prompt; happy to plot first via pm or plurk.
muselist here.
spoilers and nsfw possible, will mark in tls.


wip list of tropes and stuff i pretty much always want to play:

• lotus-eater situation, aka "you're living your perfect life and don't realize it's killing you!"
• pining! you know the hand flex gif from p&p? of course you do
• vampires...
• misunderstandings between people who have feelings for each other, i.e. thinking one of them is interested in someone else and it comes to a head in heated admissions of Feelings
• slow burn over a psl
• ALL the h/c, whether one or two-sided
• fwiw some of my favorite bstreet memes are morning after, train to the afterlife, drunk meme, find them dying, and insomnia
• text is always going to be a yes from me dawg
• classics: only one bed, huddle for warmth
• amnesia???

 

Comments

[searingbond]

[ Sciel is slammed back into the wall with a harsh thud, her head cracking a little with the impact. Already woozy from the feeding, her vision swims in and out for a moment during which, honestly, she expects this woman to finish her off. ...But time drags on and Sciel absently licks her lips, inadvertently taking in the tainted blood, completely unaware of any possible implications.

When her sight drifts back into focus, she fixes it again on the vampire. ]

"You're going to send me home?" [ She repeats, and then she laughs, lolling her head back and baring her teeth again in a mocking grin. ] That's what you say to a student who's been naughty, not someone who wants to kill you. Where is all that fear that the Dessendre family has inspired for so long?

[ Yes: she's goading. Sciel has no desire, no intention, to return home. There's nothing waiting for her there, since she's made up her mind about enacting violence on her way out of this life, and there will be no reasoning with her.

Distantly, perhaps, the ever-insightful woman notes the way that her captor talks about Pierre...as if she isn't talking about him at all. Her eyes alight as she reaches for this possibility, yanking it up into the light to be exploited. ]

Speaking from experience? [ She can't, won't, think of Pierre. How he'd died, how this monster had been the last thing he'd seen. How he'd bargained for his wife's life. Instead, she adopts what might otherwise be a pleasant smile, cocking her head curiously. ] If you haven't, I'd be happy to show you what it's like to lose someone you love. If you're capable of feeling anything but hunger, of course.

[lendemains]

[The barb about her family doesn't bother Clea; whatever reputation they have in Lumière is not her concern, as long as the Lumièrians continue to cooperate with them. But the insight Sciel gleans about her, the shattering of the facade she's so meticulously built and the exposure of the raw grief beneath, that burns. A weaker woman might rip out Sciel's throat for it. It takes every ounce of Clea's ironclad self-control not to react, though there is, perhaps, a telltale twitch in her jaw and her neck as her muscles tense with the effort of restraining herself.

When she speaks, her voice is still ice cold, still a little too thick, strained from the effort to keep it from breaking.]

Don't presume there is anything you can do that would hurt me.

[Not after what's already been taken from her. Not when Simon's screams still ring in her ears and she can't close her eyes for fear of seeing his last moments, forever seared onto the backs of her eyelids.

She releases Sciel's shirt with one hand so that she can run her thumb across the woman's bottom lip, wiping away a stray drop of blood. Hell, a weaker woman might rip Sciel's throat out just to taste her again. Even now, woozy and seemingly desperate to die chasing after her revenge, she is all but irresistible. The drops of fresh red blood beading on her neck are screaming out to Clea, and she can't help but yearn to run her tongue over Sciel's throat again.]

And I'm not going to hurt you, either. If you die now, you'll become what you'd call a monster. Just like me.

[Clea wouldn't consider herself a monster, of course. She's an animal, feeding on other animals to survive. No different from humans raising cattle for the slaughter, really; vampires are just higher up on the food chain. But Sciel has made her own opinion clear.]

You don't want that.

[searingbond]

[ Naturally, Clea wouldn't betray any weakness, if it exists. And not the 'weakness' of her past loss, which is beyond them both. There isn't anything there to exploit, and though she has no issue trying to make this woman suffer in any way possible, she has to prioritize. The vampire says she won't hurt Sciel, but that isn't an assurance that the Lumieran can count on.

There must be something, though. Everything has a weakness. Would they not fall with enough violence? If you stabbed them through the heart, or cut off their head? There's not exactly time to experiment, and she doesn't have a weapon besides, but...

Her dark musing is interrupted by what Clea says next, which has Sciel frowning slightly.

What? ]

What're you talking about? [ That hawk-like gaze is fixed on Clea, studying every twitch of her features. ] "If I die, I'll become like you?"

[ Her tone is highly dubious, given how absurd an idea it is, and her own lack of knowledge related to anything vampiric. Besides, it's more likely that this thing is playing games with her, for...whatever twisted reason. Maybe fear changes the taste of the blood, she thinks, with another pang of loathing. ]

Right, fine, I'll go back. I'll go back and recommend to the Council that we no longer honour this agreement. You've been taking more than your share anyway, so if the threat was to open us up to attack from the Nevrons, then we'll prepare for that instead. You and your family would probably kill us all eventually with the excuse of this deal hanging over our heads, and, well...I'd rather go down fighting, knowing you're not getting what you want.

[ What they need, maybe. Because the frequency with which people had been requested, or were stolen away, had increased over time. And something about the way Clea has been looking at her tonight, as if she's starving...

What Sciel doesn't know, of course, is where she and the others in the city had come from in the first place. ]

[lendemains]

[It seems to Clea that Sciel wants to die. She came here tonight with no weapon, no apparent plan, simply threw herself into the jaws of a predator in the vague hope that Clea that would choke on her. And now she's goading her, trying to strike wherever it might hurt or provoke ire: Clea's family, her losses, and now their agreement with Lumière.

(Not that the agreement matters much. If the Lumièrians become too unruly, they can always be erased and new livestock painted in their stead. But that would mean more time, more energy, when there's a war to fight and not enough time or energy to spare.)

She can't help but roll her eyes in frustration.]

You want to die, then, I take it? I'm offering you the rest of your life, for whatever that's worth. But if you're that adamant to refuse it...

[She gave her word.

What does honour mean here? Her word won't feed her, won't give her the strength she needs to keep her family safe.

Sciel's ingested Clea's blood. She'll become a vampire if she dies now.

Clea can destroy the body before she rises. It'll take time, time that's wasted here instead of in the outside world where she's needed, where there's a war to fight and where her family is relying on her. But if it means she won't go hungry tonight, perhaps it's worth it.]

I'll grant your wish.

[Her hand slips around to cup Sciel's cheek, fingertips pressing insistently against the side of her head, holding her in place, as her other hand releases its death grip on Sciel's shirt to trace downwards to Sciel's waist, grabbing on and holding the woman flush against her body. Were she not a predator and Sciel her prey, it might seem as though she were about to kiss her. And for a moment, her lips against Sciel's throat are almost tender.]

[searingbond]

[ Sciel does want to die. She's wanted to stop having to live after Pierre disappeared, though she went on for years after in a reckless haze. And though it took a while for her to decide that dying in the course of getting her revenge was the way she wanted it to end, she'd managed to make it here.

...Of course, the revenge piece has already gone up in flames. But the vampire's teeth are at her neck, those hands pinning her in place, and to do nothing now would mean she could finally just fall into the inky blackness of whatever comes after and not feel this way anymore.

Just as she resolves herself (with some bitterness) to this, her eyes starting to flutter shut, she starts suddenly and those eyes snap open again. Because she sees her husband standing just over Clea's shoulder, exactly the kind, handsome visage she remembered from the last time she'd ever seen him.

Mon coeur, he says, and there's a plea in the term of endearment. Please. You know this isn't right.

And it isn't fair, of course, to see his ghost now. The frustrating, grief-stricken tide of it wells up in her throat, and she tries to turn her head so she can't see him, but Clea has her frozen in place. So she swallows roughly, trying to keep the emotion from welling up further and stinging her eyes. ]

I know, [ Sciel mutters, curling her hands into fists so the nails bite into her palms. ] but I...

[ Putain. It'd be so easy to give in, and then she could be with him again. But he's also here, staring at her with gently-begging eyes, and she wants to scream, she's so frustrated.

But she doesn't have a lot of time to debate it. So, with a rough, overwhelmed sound, she tries to pull back from the other woman as much as she can, teeth grit. ]

Wait. [ Now her attention is on the vampire again, face clearly lined with the anguish of an impossible situation. ] ...You can't kill me, fine, but consider what I said before: I can last. Make it so you don't have to take anyone else for a while. Maybe I can help your family, too, depending on how...much you need.

[ Is this the best scenario that remains to her? Not become a vampire, and also not have failed in being the sacrifice she intended such that someone else from home will need to be sent immediately?

Sciel stares hard at Clea, face a fresh mask of resolve. ]

Is that enough to satisfy you?