⠀ rage, that is love – rotten .ᐟ
⠀ rage, that is desire – rotten .ᐟ
⠀ rage .ᐟ like a prayer, unanswered, ricocheting from your ceiling and landing right onto your eyes, never quite reaching where it was meant to .
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“ que sais-tu du diable .ᐣ.ᐟ ” venom spat , this time a book thrown at the other , falling to knees soon after . weeping . he wants freedom , he wants lestat .. why had he abandoned him .ᐣ why had armand taken interest .ᐣ
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He watches the vase crackle and laughs a little. His accent is heavy as he does his best to make sense to the other.
" Si vous pensez que ce misérable petit couyon est le diable, vous vous trompez lourdement. "
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there he is again , the wandering stranger so free to come ﹠. go . unshackled by the looming presence of the maître . roll of eyes , a vase thrown at the other’s head . “ vas — y alors .ᐟ laisse-moi pourrir sous le diable .. ”
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He's watching, soaking it in, eating up every little cuss, even if his grasp on proper french is rusty.
" Come on, now. You knew I wasn't going to take you, cher. I don't bring pointless luggage. "
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finality , aching soul . wailing , flickering . something keeps him here , it stands before him , he cannot remember . saving grace , stashed away . a means of escape in the violin case left behind at the theater . still , he cannot
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Santiago's eyes line with bloody tears, but he does not allow them to fall. Slowly climbing to his feet, clamoring away.
" FINE! THEN ROT HERE IN YOUR MISERY! AND I WILL ROT IN MINE, BUT I WILL NEVER END UP AS YOU ARE! "
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to be held is a feeling he cannot fully remember , cannot fully return . words near his sanity , but as santiago said , a piece is missing . the piece that kept him somewhat prim ﹠. proper . now , he’s a monster , snarling at any sight of
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+ " I hold no hatred for you, my maker. It is not god or the devil that keep you tied here, it is your mind. A mind Armand stole the key to . . . "
" I ask only that you help me. That you do not let them trap me there as well. "
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love , for it has only ever brought him a downfall close behind .. push away from the other , head shaking , muttering , “ I’m no savior . do you hear .ᐣ I’M NOT YOUR SAVIOR .ᐟ WE ARE DOOMED TO SUFFER HIS WRATH FOREVER ﹠. EVER ﹠.
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crawling closer , attempting to grasp at knees despite manifestation of scarred , stitched hands fading into bloodied stumps . forehead to thigh , emotions overwhelming . put this woeful spirit out of his misery .
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desperation turns to anguish , strings of bow ╱ violin snapping as santiago does , drawing them to a heavy silence as nicolas falls to his knees , broken instrument dropped at the feet of fledgling . he’s broken , sobs staccato from bowed head ,
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" FINE! LEAVE ME TO THE SAME MONSTER THAT CUT YOUR HANDS OFF AND STOLE YOUR LOVE AWAY! I'LL BECOME MEAT FOR THE ALTER OF YOUR FAILINGS JUST AS YOU ARE- "
" YOU NEVER BLOODY WANTED ME ANYWAY! YOU IMPETULANT CHILD! TURNING A MAN BECAUSE YOUR CRAVED THE TOUCH OF ANOTHER! "
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eyes squeeze shut at that , bow violent against shrieking strings , growing louder . a malicious sea attempting to drown creation out , transport him away from reality .. away from this life .
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He watches, lip curling, eyes narrowing. The diva in him raring it's ugly head, foot stomping down as he growls.
" I WILL NOT LET YOU PRETEND YOUR MISTAKE DOES NOT EXIST. HERE I AM, MY MAKER. YOUR LITTLE SONGS CANNOT HIDE ME. "
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for a moment , there’s a fondness , but it fades just as quickly as it constructs . left only to scoff ﹠. draw violin closer , a mournful ╱ spiteful tune spitting from the strings . ignore the problem , it will soon fade away .
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" You are my maker. You are the only blood I have left in this world; The only man who knows what I was. Even with your clear distaste for me . . . I crave your approval. your affection. "
" And I see you as a warning, of what I cannot allow myself to become. "
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“ I do not keep you here . it is you who returns , tears in eyes , seeking comfort . I cannot understand it . I would not seek me out , so why must you .ᐣ you hold onto your past , therefore allowing it to become a weapon . ”
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