‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊

⠀ᅟᅟᅟᅟ ݁ ⠀.⠀ ♱ ⠀༝ 𝖆𝖑𝖑⠀𝘩̵𝘰̵𝘱̵𝘦̵⠀𝐚bandon,⠀ᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟᅟ𝑦𝑒⠀𝑤𝘩𝑜⠀𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫⠀𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢.

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

https://t.co/eSFtA3zSce

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

he can be found on the back of the parish, tending to the bed of flowers.

[╱ ˚ ༘✶ 𝙽͟𝙰͟𝚃͟𝙰͟𝙻͟𝙸͟𝙰͟ 𝙼͟𝙾͟𝚁͟𝙴͟𝙽͟𝙾 @suenosmagia]

she’s stopping by to pay @hellclerics of sorts. and make time for a quick little prayer.

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

sitting outside out of the parish, hands resting in his lap as he watches the expansion of road before him.

loneliness has crept its crawls under his skin. his eternal haunting is to be alone.

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

/ anyone want a slutty sailor

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... i have never had someone bite me to draw blood before.” he brings eyes to the other, dome tipping aside slowly.

“but i was still the vessel for such attack you suffered.”

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

there is a charm to armand that john cannot rightly tell whether it is vampiric or not ; the stranger that is a vampire seems to have abilities far beyond his comprehension — but so does the devil lurking within the corners of his scarred mind.

he watches the crimson ...

[𝓲ɴ͟ғ͟ɪ͟ɴ͟ɪ͟ᴛ͟ᴇ͟ 𝒏𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. @desiofolle]

"You? Apologise?"

An easy chuckle splits their face, making Armand seem younger than they truly are. A boy barely past twenty, perhaps, laughing at some obscene, harmless joke a friend equally as young had proffered, not at the quaint instincts for martyrdorm harboured within a

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... fill the mug in a steady pace, armand’s presence keeping him centred. the pain remains, which prevents his skin to stitch together by devilish thread and needle.

so long as john ward feels pain, he would bleed.

“it is right i did not know this evil would affect you. ...

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

/ gonna be on @willfulsails today so come follow himmmmm

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

/ guys ..... come get my lil historical guy, plsssssss.

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

@suenosmagia / YOURE GONNA LOVE HIM.......

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

/ cooking up a historical character, gang, gimme a bit

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

/ guys i wanna write historical stuff, SIGHSSSSS

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... fill the mug like it is born from porcelain, breath filling in and falling out of his lungs.

“i have not had the chance to apologise for the sight you were presented with, when you bit me.”

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

how unexpected, to have predator apologise to his own prey. john is not as naive to believe armand is harmless, nor that the angelic peaks and valleys that construct their face cradles real sanctification.

yet john, of all men under the cloth, knows the weight of ...

[𝓲ɴ͟ғ͟ɪ͟ɴ͟ɪ͟ᴛ͟ᴇ͟ 𝒏𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. @desiofolle]

"I do apologise for the pain."

If it were any other human being, they would be helpless to resist the pure charm radiating off of Armand's voice. The honeyed heaviness so entirely engineered towards seduction, the half-lidded way he looks on out into the distance at the very

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... bloody saints.

he exhales softly through parted lips, usually neat tresses falling across his forehead as pain subdues, now a steady throb rather than a heavy pounding.

“this devil of mine cannot allow for anything other than despair, i’m afraid.” he watches crimson ...

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

the parish cradles the endless stains of the once called stigmata from john ward’s veins.

exhaustion is too simple a word to describe his state, truly.

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... marked by the monstrosity of their existence ; who else could john ever feel comfortable with if not them?

“you may.”

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

suffering feels religious if you do it right.

though john winces at the pain of the cut, his gaze watches armand’s features instead, observant of the way light glimmers across their features, how the sun does not bother the flesh of a child of the night.

it is exhilarating ...

[𝓲ɴ͟ғ͟ɪ͟ɴ͟ɪ͟ᴛ͟ᴇ͟ 𝒏𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. @desiofolle]

The self-effacing humour is met with a polite chuckle, though it hides the deeper understanding Armand bolds inside. There is something undeniably succulent about a man so bent upon acknowledging the state of his own damnation, to his own expense, and to do it wrapped in the

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... to be free of the facade of human for a moment — to be able to face the gory side of his own existence, to have the devil that lives in him have it's own relief as well.

“yes.” he nods, a dry swallow as he watches armand still, in a trance. their beauty is ...

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

... folding his sleeve up ; wrist and crook of elbow revealing the bulge of vein underneath skin.

“have your meal.”

[‍‍ ‍ ‍‍ ‍ᴼ͟ᴴ ‍ ‍‍ ‍𝖒⌖rtis。⋆.⛧ ̊ @hellclerics]

“i am only lucky that my own beast do not feed from anyone else but myself.”

perhaps not luck, but john ward always had a penchant for self-flagelation. the knife is stored back to its place, making way to the table as he takes a seat across armand, fingers working on ...

[𝓲ɴ͟ғ͟ɪ͟ɴ͟ɪ͟ᴛ͟ᴇ͟ 𝒏𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. @desiofolle]

"Ah. That is why you are so welcoming."

Armand is half-convinced that their presence unsettles the nuns. An ancient vampire does not mix well with the religious crowd—prone to thinking of the devil, so close to the devil's own hand.

A sardonic smile, and they are extending