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[playing_human]

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text; username: mr. chandler

[lupusintus]

[ This was sent to him on October 2nd. ]

If you aren't otherwise occupied, Mr. Gray. Our mutual friend is throwing a shindig for his partner.

[playing_human]

A shindig? God! I thought that word was only used in novels. That shows how much I know. You are going, I hope?

[lupusintus]

You need to get out more. Yes, I'll be there, and I sent a message to Miss Ives as well.

[ Still, Ethan is chuckling on his end.]

[playing_human]

I trust you have something suitable to wear.

[A lie.]

Day after Sembene incident

[lupusintus]

Im aorry, Im sp soery/

Wjat did I eo

Flrgibd me

[playing_human]

I beg your pardon?

[lupusintus]

Nothkng Dprian

[ Short, sweet, to the point. If he types slow enough, you can almost make out what he's trying to say! ]

un: hidden | text (backated to after party)

[matermali]

Mr. Gray,

It is with a profound humility that I express the overwhelming remorse that has taken hold. In encountering you while consumed by that wretched house, some malevolent influence seized hold of me, casting me adrift for something else to enact great violence. I do not hope for forgiveness. I can only wish that no irreparable harm has befallen you.

In humble contrition, I extend my sincerest apologies, hoping they find a place in the recesses of your discerning heart.

Yours in penitence,
Vanessa Ives

[playing_human]

Dear Vanessa,

Now, none of that, please. We both know it wasn't at all your fault. In fact, the same thing happened to me on a previous night, only I was in the opposite position. If you would, please come meet me in the morning at the café nextdoor to my flat and we shall put this behind us over breakfast.

Yours,
Dorian

[matermali]

[ ► ]

Forward-dated to the eve of the 29th;

[lupusintus]

[ Having spent the duration of his time after the full moon searching for Dorian and Vanessa, Ethan has once again found himself at the man's door, expecting the same results as before. He would step into an apartment that was unoccupied, the bed unslept in and the stock of food and drink untouched. Nonetheless, he carefully opens the door and steps into the living room, his free hand fumbling away at his phone as he sends another message to the pair.

If they hadn't answered by now, then they weren't going to.

He's still trying to decide if it's because he actually killed him and he's angry (though that doesn't sound like Dorian), if it's guilt or if he might be keeping away out of fear. Would someone who has lived as long as Dorian be afraid of something like him with all that he has seen? Also doubtful, leaving him with even more questions than answers. So, one can only imagine his surprise when he walks through the apartment and eventually finds a familiar and disheveled looking man sprawled out across the bed.

That son of a--

His relief is immediate but so is the spark of anger that bubbles up to the surface. He followed him to the garage fully intending to unleash him upon the city, upon people who hadn't a clue what was coming. He trusted him. After balling up a fist, he lifts a boot and drives it sharply into the bed to rouse the sleeping man. When he speaks up it's through clenched teeth. ]

Get up. [ He doesn't even give him time to shake off his stupor. ] What the fuck were you thinking?

[playing_human]

[Dorian doesn't even remember hitting the bed. Hell, he doesn't remember the walk home, if there was one.

The bed jostles and there's a voice, but it's muffled. Dorian's body immediately curls into a fetal position, hands covering his ears, but the instinctive movement itself clues him into his whereabouts before his eyes even open. If he were still in the chair, he wouldn't be able to move. Was it a dream?

No, it wasn't. He can feel the raw skin hidden beneath his long sleeves where the straps chafed his wrists. His head is pounding. His shoulder is throbbing. His eyes are closed. His eyes can close. And someone is yelling at him. Are they going to take him ba--no, humans don't do the city's bidding. If Dorian was going back there, he would have just shown up back there.

His red-rimmed eyes finally open, gaze trailing up to Ethan's face.

Oh. This is a reckoning of a different kind. The one he knew was coming the entire time he was in that chair. At least, at the times when he was confident he'd make it out of the chair.

His hands drift away from his ears and he blinks up at Ethan.]

What? [There's no audible vocalization, just a hoarse whisper. He coughs, realizing how thirsty he is, and starts to struggle to his feet.]

[lupusintus]

You heard me. Feigning ignorance doesn't suit you, Dorian, so don't even try it.

[ The whole display does little more than fuel the fire, as he's under the impression that he is trying to drown him out. The slow, sluggish movements don't alarm him as they are normal for someone trying to rouse themselves after a particularly long night. Nor does the whisper. ]

Did you think I was going to thank you? If I wanted to unleash the monster on the city, I would've done so of my own volition. Whatever game you were playing, I hope you got your fill of enjoyment out of it because I sure as hell didn't. [ He starts to pace near the end of the bed, it's the only thing keeping him from hitting him right now. Without warning that balled up fist makes contact with a bedpost. ]

Are you proud of yourself? Did you get a new experience out of it? Nothing else matters, right? As long as you're content in your own little world, looking down from your tower as the ants scatter. You didn't think about who I could hurt, that it could be someone both of us know.

You didn't even have the nerve to face it, I've been looking for you for two goddamn days.

un: hidden | text (backdated to 11/30 early evening)

[matermali]

Dorian, how do you fare? I heard that you had been hurt.

[playing_human]

[There's a rush of relief. She's back. She's safe, presumably. Now, he can be safely pissed.]

Why did you go looking for him?

[matermali]

I was looking for you, as well.

{ christmas day

[matermali]

[ Wrapped in silver ribbon are two boxes left just outside his door, one which holds a few varieties of fairly decent red wines, and the other hides a small but elegantly crafted wine rack. Attached to a pastry box carrying chocolate raspberry macarons is a small envelope with a voucher for a 'free card reading', and a note: ]

Dear Dorian,

I owe you a reading, do I not?

I believe that we have surprised one another since meeting again. I would even say that we underestimated one another, and yet I have since come to see you more clearly than I was able to before. I must think this is a good thing going forward. You may be surprised once more to find that I still consider you my friend and I would do my utmost to defend you from any harm, but I can only do so much to protect you from yourself.

You are deserving of being known, of being loved, as I still believe you have not forgotten how to love in turn. I hope for you to remember to find some manner of solace in the company of others, and I truly wish for you to enjoy this Christmas season.

Sincerely,
Vanessa Ives

text ; @thundaga

[astraphilia]

gala's over and I ain't out of things to say yet ;)

[playing_human]

[No message comes back; just an address.]

» action

[astraphilia]

[ well shit, okay then. it only takes a minute or two for Reno to get on his way, and that only because he was half-dressed when he sent the text. once he's put his pants on and found his other sock, he gets out of the house and goes in search of the address on the screen of his device. it isn't that far—fifteen minutes walking, maybe, or ten if he walks fast.

he walks fast.

when he finds the right building, Reno puts his cigarette out and tosses the butt down the gutter before heading inside and up to the unit specified. there, he knocks before leaning back against the wall opposite the door, all the better to see him through the peephole with. ]

:)

[perfectdevil]

[ On New Year's Eve, Dorian will find a gift on his doorstep. Inside the box sits an arrangement of peculiar glasses, some shaped like birds and others like flowers, and others merely abstract in their design or colour choice. There's also a small decorative bottle containing some strong fragrance, with powerful notes of violet and ozone that linger in the air once sprayed.

The box is wrapped in black paper with gold ribbons, and attached to the lid is a note that reads: ]

Dorian,
I wish you many happy returns for this coming year.

I haven't given Christmas presents in a century, so you can consider this something to see you into the New Year, if you'd like.

Lestat
xoxo

Sometime before the 25th

[lupusintus]

[ While he could have let him know he was visiting ahead of time, he opts to show up unannounced. Ethan will never forcefully pry the details of what happened to Dorian following his disappearance post the rampage but, being strongly against torture himself— and having seen people steadily decline following it— he has made it a point to keep tabs on his well-being. Showing up like this, at least in his mind, will ensure that he catches him by surprise rather than giving him time to artificially collect himself.

Far from the realm of simple possibility, he is certain the man will put on airs the longer time goes on and keep whatever haunts his dreams to himself rather than rely on a stranger because he would do the exact same thing.

Fortunately, the person knocking on his door right now is far from a stranger. His expression might be pleasant but, once the door is opened, his eyes squint with an uncertainty that is both obvious and likely familiar by this point, at least to his rather small circle of friends. It is a blessing and a curse to have him in your life as he is as loyal as a dog but as stubborn as a mule, unlikely to budge on the more difficult discussions in life.

Unless he is evading anything pertaining to himself, hypocrisy thy name is Ethan Chandler. ]

Dorian.

[playing_human]

[Perhaps that's one of their more major differences--the act Dorian puts on is for himself. However, there comes a point where even denial isn't doing the trick.

When he opens the door, he looks, perhaps, underslept. Metal music is playing. The counter is cluttered with various barware and the coffee table is littered with books, magazine clippings, and crumpled notebook paper. Beyond the living room, the bedroom door is open, revealing the rumpled bedding of someone who has been tossing and turning.]

Ethan, [he greets with a cheerful smile.] Come in.

[He leaves the door open and heads into the apartment.] Something to drink?

[lupusintus]

Have you ever known me to turn down a drink?

[ Well, isn't that something. Maybe he is just too accustomed to the mental picture of Dorian's tidy little abode from home. Ethan takes a moment to survey the collection of books before picking up one of the glasses to waggle it in his general direction. ]

Thanks. Am I interrupting? I can always come back later, if that's the case.

[ Replacing the glass where he found it, he trails after him after glancing at the bedding out of the corner of an eye. Still struggling, it seems, though it isn't as if he was expecting him to recover quickly. The physical torture has been over for some time now, but the psychological attack is still going strong. Maybe the mess of items decorating the apartment are an escape. ]

backdated } after ethan's departure

[matermali]

[ The usual decorum seems pointless now. It takes energy she doesn't have to spare. ]

Dorian.

He is gone.