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@pcwers ⠀⠀⠀⠀ depending on if they’ve been drinking, their stories are quite interesting to hear. not all the truth, but good amusement.

@bIoodthirst ,, fun huh. I've definitely met many like that. 

@pcwers ⠀⠀⠀⠀ unfortunately, i frequent this hellhole often. the people here are.. fun.

@bIoodthirst    /  why you only ever call me when your high on alastor

@bIoodthirst 
            
            / they should interact again methinks (i sadly cannot think of a song off the top of my head..)

@firepaints ⠀⠀⠀⠀ “you could be one of a kind, but the resemblance in personalities is almost uncanny.”   the words are dry, but there’s a hint of a smile that tugs on the vampires lips as he crosses his arms over his chest.   “by all means, keep going. this is quite entertaining.”

" Oh ? And here I thought I was one of a kind. " [ Pouts , crossing his arms ] " To suggest I’m ' familiar ' is a hit to my artistic ego. You should be honored to witness drama of this caliber... it's a rare gift, you know. "

@firepaints ⠀⠀⠀⠀ “mm.. you sound so much like someone i know, and i’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

[ Lucian’s hands paused. The word miracle hung in the air, clashing violently with the clinical smell of sealant and the copper tang of blood. He didn't laugh—Lucian wasn't a man for laughter—but a slow, ghost-like pull of his lips signaled a mirthless sort of amusement. He finally pulled the last stitch taut, the movement precise and unforgiving, before he finally met Aden’s eyes. ] " A clean slate ? " [ He repeated the words as if tasting something foreign, perhaps even a bit distasteful. He didn't pull away; instead, he leaned back just enough to survey his work, his expression remainly stony, though his eyes tracked the slight tremor in Aden's hand. ] 
            
            " You talk as if the past is a debt that can be settled with a handshake. It isn’t. The past is a scar—much like the one I am currently closing on your skin. You don't get to be 'new,' Aden. You only get to be 'continued.' " [ He reached out, not with warmth, but with a firm, grounding grip on Aden’s shoulder—a silent command for him to stay present. His voice dropped, losing the jagged edge of his earlier lecture, replaced by a low, dangerous steadiness. ] " But... if you are truly bored of the 'vicious cycle' you've been spinning in, I suppose I can grant you this: I don't hold grudges. They are a waste of energy, and I am a very efficient man. If you survive the next hour, I will look at you and see the man who is breathing in front of me, not the one I intended to kill yesterday. " [ He began packing his kit, the metallic click-clack of instruments sounding like a countdown. ] " Don't make me regret the 'miracle,' little martyr. I’d hate to have to undo such tidy needlework. "
            
            /     < 33

@bloodshed ⠀⠀⠀⠀ this man was no martyr, and he never intended to act like he was. the arrogance he carries with him is an act, one that took centuries to perfect. in his mind, if he were to be arrogant, no one would want to get close. no one would want to stay, and he wouldn’t have to lose anybody else. but now, as he sits against this wall with his life in another man’s hand, he doesn’t know what’s worse—- having no one at all, or having everyone remember him as the cruel man who was effectively repeating the vicious cycle that he was brought up in. his eyes close, the back of his head hits the wall, and he sighs. the motion is painful, but perhaps that’s deserved. he’s lived his life in a cage for so long, and he’s put himself back in one again. by his own choice.
             ⠀⠀⠀⠀ his breathing is shagged, and he cannot help but open his eyes and look at the man who is trying so hard to save his life. he debates on a monologue, simply for the dramatics, but then he laughs at the silly idea. instead, he moves his hand to rest on the floor beside him.   “if you actually succeed in saving my life, which would be a damned miracle, i want to make it right.”   in other words, he wants to be known. he wants to change his ways, because they’re not healthy and all they’re doing is hurting him and everyone that he could have a sliver of care for.
             ⠀⠀⠀⠀ “just do me a favor, yeah? clean slate. no grudges against me for what’s been done before this. no arrogance, no hatred—- two people getting to know each other, should the other one allow them to.”   was this that poison talking? probably. but alas, he likes it. he likes the way that his heart, while still not beating, feels lighter. the weight on his shoulders not holding him down anymore. he could be free—- he could be NEW. it’s only shitty that he has to come close to death once more to feel it.
            
            /        he’s very much so still a work in progress, but that means SO MUCH to me <3

[ Lucian’s hands didn't pause. If anything, the needle pulled a fraction tighter, a deliberate tethering of Aden to the physical world. He didn’t look up, but the ghost-like smirk from before sharpened into something more clinical, more jagged. He let the silence stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable—a habit of a man who used silence as a weapon before he used steel. ] " You think too highly of yourself, Aden. To hate you would require an emotional investment I simply haven't made. " [ He finally looked up, his gaze as cold and sterile as the sealant he’d just applied. There was no heat in his eyes, only the terrifying clarity of a predator who has seen everything. ] " I don't hate you because of what you are. I find the 'soul versus monster' debate tedious—it's a hobby for poets and priests, and I am neither. If I have been cold, it's because you carry yourself with the staggering arrogance of a martyr who wants to be ended. That is what I despise: the waste of a perfectly good immortality on self-pity. " [  He wiped a smear of thick, dark blood from his thumb onto a cloth, his movements slow and methodical. ] " As for why I help ? Don't mistake my competence for kindness. You are a variable in a much larger game, and you’re far more useful to me breathing than rotting. Besides... " [  He leaned in slightly, the chemical tang of the sealant mixing with the copper scent of the air. ] " I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting the art of the 'final ending.' Seeing a poison actually succeed where I haven't sanctioned it? That's an insult to my craft. You'll live because I haven't given you permission to do otherwise. Now, sit still. Unless you’d like the next stitch to be less 'precise' and more 'unnecessary agony' ? "
            
            /       thank you pooks , i love the way you write aden as well , truly    < 33

ㅤjust for tonight, i can't say the same for tomorrow or the day after that [ she teased looking up at the tall male, an amused smile spreading on her lips, two deep dimples gracing her cheeks in the process. diana loved teasing, much to her friends dismay — and there was no one's buttons she loved pushing more than aden's — after all, what was life without a little good chaos. But aside from the teasing, it hadn't escaped Diana on the real question at hand, why was he helping her? What did he hope to gain?]

@localnymph ⠀⠀⠀⠀ [the long moments of silence that follow his questions does not really bother aden. it makes him raise a brow, sure, but it doesn’t get beneath his skin and irritate him. he could very well leave her here, let her deal with everyone in the manor, and be done with it—- but he is giving her a choice. after all, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t? when she takes his arm, lets her hand rest on his clothed bicep, he clears his throat and sets his gaze forward.]   i am pleased to know that you are putting your death wish on hold for the rest of the night.   [with that being said, he begins leading her back to the party. he makes a mental note, however, of the scent that does not belong to either of them. he’ll remember it, and he’ll crave it for the rest of the night until he tastes it.]

ㅤ[ diana glanced at his outstretched arm, and weighed her options. she could continue the petulant argument that she could handle her own and walk through that door and face the dangers alone and ultimately die trying or she could learn to trust and for once listen to aden, follow through with the plan and live to see another day. As much as her stubbornness swayed her to do as she pleased, the rational part of her knew that Aden was sanctuary and without him, she wouldn't make it out alive. 
            Begrudgingly, diana softly nodded and took his arm, hand on his bicep and standing close to his side]   fine, it's a deal

@bIoodthirst Ironically, that psychoanalysis you’re so dismissive of has kept my head attached on several occasions. I’m feeling that instinct again now. I have no interest in your deals..I’m taking a midnight walk, and you, sir, are in my way.

@crims0nblack ⠀⠀⠀⠀ “do you always attempt to psychoanalyze someone and fail? there is no hate in my heart, i just asked you a question.”

@bIoodthirst “All that hate in your heart.. for what exactly?”

@lycanthropiks ⠀⠀⠀⠀ one can never be too sure. who are you?

/ <3

/ pls!

/ !! 

ORIGINAL CONCEPT / OVERVIEW.  (temp)
             ⠀⠀⠀⠀ aden ryker was orphaned at the age of eight, and then adopted by chase ashford at the young age of ten. he was trained to kill by chase ashford himself, and his first contract was when he was sixteen. he killed a man, had felt the burning blood on his hands, but he needed to—- that’s what he told himself, anyway.
             ⠀⠀⠀⠀ his life took an even darker turn, if that were possible, when aden turned twenty-six. the night of his birthday, he was bitten. the morning after, his throat hurt and he craved something. he didn’t find out that it was human blood that he craved until that night, where he tore into someone’s throat.
             ⠀⠀⠀⠀ that was two hundred years ago, and now he’s free—- except he’s still making the wrong choices, and he’s never quite quenched his thirst for human blood coating his throat and hands. maybe, just maybe, he never will.