Lookie who is returning. 

I missed him :(

“NICKI!!!!”

[ ♫ ♪ 𝔡𝔢 𝔏𝔢𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔫𝔱: @manyimaginativemuses ]

     — Nicolas flew down the street, desperate to escape the madness he was so certain was closing in on him. No mortal eye could see nor hear him, so quick was the preternatural movement of the speed at which he fled— that is until he felt hands plucking him from the very air itself and knocking the oxygen from his lungs as he found himself yanked into an alleyway and pinned up against the brick wall by another unyielding immortal body— Lestat's body— although he refused to believe it was really him. "S'il vous plaît, monsieur, laissez-moi partir!" he cried in their mother tongue, desperately struggling to escape the other male but was useless against his strength. "You are not real! Let me go this ins—" Nicolas's indignant protest was silenced by the feeling of Lestat's generous mouth upon his own, his beloved’s long slender fingers so familiar even after three centuries were now tangled in his long silken waves as Nicki suddenly found himself drowning in the blond's touch and kisses as he had all those many years ago, icy lips from not having fed recently becoming pliant and responsive and warm as he returned Lestat's kiss, the struggling ceased, all fight draining from his limbs, his body sagging as a soft whimper escaped him.

By the time Lestat pulled away all the fight in him had evaporated, leaving the vampire spent and dark hues staring at the ground, unfocused and w i d e as he silently wept, the blood tears carving twin fissures as they coursed paths down Nicki's pale cheeks. "A misunderstanding, my love." he murmured bitterly, his voice carrying only a trace of the French accent it had once possessed which was now nearly erased by time and absence from his homeland. One corner of Nicolas's mouth quirked into a haunted half-smile, booted feet carrying him forward a step, away from the brick wall and towards Lestat whom he reached out to touch in disbelieving wonder, the pads of his fingers ghosting over a pale cheek and smearing the other’s bloody tears in his search for the certainty that he really was there and not some apparition sent from the devil himself. "Are you real or a figment sent to torture me further? Mon Dieu, I do not even know anymore." he sighed wearily, hanging his head and going silent for a long moment. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally proceeded to answer Lestat's question— albeit with all the sarcasm he could muster. "Armand failed to scatter my remains, and now here I am. I live once more." Nicolas grimaced, visibly cringing as he recalled the agony in which he lived— if it could be called such—  for nearly a month below ground while his immortal body rebuilt itself.

[ ♫ ♪ 𝔡𝔢 𝔏𝔢𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔫𝔱: @blackthumbed ]

     — The violin’s exquisite sound could make angels weep in heaven and send devils clawing their way up from the bowels of hell and Nicolas was as certain of that fact as he was in knowing he was one of the latter; a demonic fiend carved from alabaster marble and plucked from the very fabric of time itself to be left standing among mortals— alone now— without his companion and caretaker, Eleni. Nicki still refused to think of her as truly being gone— dust in the wind. She was merely away, running an errand. He couldn’t fathom it otherwise. Wouldn’t believe it. Dead. Mon Eleni, it cannot be.

Seduced by the mortal's playing of the beloved instrument, the vampire followed, beckoned as the violinist’s lamenting song guided him around a street corner and up an alleyway where he spied the virtuoso as she performed, her petite frame swaying with every note and crescendo that cascaded up into the heavens from the violin which was held as tenderly as a lover within her arms. 

And then she was unconsciously turning towards him so the street lamp created a halo of the mane of raven curls framing her pale face and Nicki's dark hues finally fell upon Clarke's facets which caused him to let out an audible gasp, heart clenching painfully beneath his ribs as a detached sort of recognition dawned— 

— She was the spitting image of Eleni. Mon Dieu!

The vampire watched from the shadows, not daring to approach her but admiring her from afar instead. He knew he loved her in that moment, a feeling that only intensified as the minutes ticked by in his observation of the mortal, his desire for her all-consuming, to taste the nectar flowing through her veins, to make her heart part of his own for all eternity. It was a rare thing, this feeling for a human, one he didn’t usually experience, and for now, he'd bide his time and simply observe.

Not caring to notice how much time had passed, Nicki remained hidden by the darkness until the mortal beauty packed up her violin in its case and headed in what he assumed to be the direction of her home, only then did he silently pursue her, allowing her steps to take her farther away from the crowded quarter before he approached, unable to restrain himself any longer. Nicolas appeared suddenly from behind like an apparition out of a penny dreadful and reached for her, slender fingers grasping and biting into the yielding flesh of her shoulders as he held her in a vice-like grip,  his head bowing, savoring the scent of her up close. “Pardon me, ma chérie..” was whispered against the shell of Clarke’s ear and then he struck like a snake, needle sharp fangs piercing the pale flesh of the noirette’s throat, twin knives sinking into the carotid artery to release the fountain that ran just beneath the surface.

meslivressouvrentpourtoi:

[ ♫ ♪ 𝔡𝔢 𝔏𝔢𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔫𝔱: @meslivressouvrentpourtoi ] 

     — Slender digits devoured and turned each page of the precious tome held with such careful reverence, brown eyes wide with an almost child-like wonder of the things he saw within its pages—  the few happy memories of his past that didn't cause suffering of the heart and head. But surely his mind was playing tricks? How long had it been since he was studying the violin under Mozart? Watching from the doorway of the dressing room in Renaud's little house of thespians as his beloved Lestat applied his greasepaint in preparation to take the stage for the evening's performance? These things couldn't be real. Nicolas realized— thought really— that he must be having an episode. Where oh where had Eleni gone? (Of course, he didn’t understand that she would never be coming back, that she was dead and had been for nearly a year now.) Why had she left him? Mon Dieu, I do not believe I can do this alone. But then another visual within the book's pages was drawing him in and all of the painful thoughts were swirling away with the exquisite beauty of the Auvergne mountains and the mouthwatering smell of his mother's sweet bread.

So lost was he in the contents of the magical pages that Nicolas had not realized Isidore was watching him until he slowly turned to lower himself into a nearby chair and caught sight of the wizard. He stared at him stupidly for a moment as he processed it, looking almost like a child caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar— and then a rushed apology of embarrassment in his mother tongue flooded past his lips, brown eyes averting to the floor. "Ah, pardon, monsieur! I-I-" he stammered, his tone not carrying much of an accent anymore, the years having heavily stripped it from his voice. Now looking flustered and almost pained, a hand lifted to anxiously tuck a stray wave of dark hair behind an ear while his features pinched as he silently admonished himself and rose from the chair to appear in a blink before Isidore— quite literally— thrusting the now closed book at the man.

[ ♫ ♪ 𝔡𝔢 𝔏𝔢𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔫𝔱: @manyimaginativemuses ]

     — It was the frontman's voice that had initially guided his attention to the little concert being performed in the small venue across the street, but it was the sound of the violin that truly drew Nicki in and pulled him like a bee to pollen from the boulevard and into the small nightclub. Hundreds of mortals milled about inside the cramped hot space, their warm, pliant bodies twisting beautifully as they danced and sung along to the lyrics, their eyes rarely leaving the pair on the stage, entranced by the vocalist and practically in thrall with the blond who wielded the violin so expertly, wringing such exquisite notes from the instrument such as Nicolas had never heard before. He should have recognized the pair as immortals but his fractured mind had yet to piece it all together. As it were there was something achingly familiar about the way the blond male moved and swayed with the music— almost theatrically dramatic— and utterly beguiling. Sunlight. Even in darkness. Beams of light emanated from him to chase away the proverbial shadows. Panic was building alongside the curiosity, a blackness of engulfing pain that had become a dearly demonic friend over the years devouring his mind which was now keenly threatening to send him into an episode of madness. Nicki was unknowingly treading on very thin ice and was about to fall into frigid black waters yet again. 

Nicolas drifted closer, parting the small sea of mortals like Moses in his quest to get closer to the stage and better examine the pair. He was no more than ten feet away when he clearly saw the blond's facets for the first time and his heart clenched painfully beneath his ribs before it plummeted and fell to the floor. Lestat! Mon Dieu! But was his fractured mind playing tricks? Or was he really up there on that little stage? Nicolas's features became pinched, dark eyes wild as they darted about, his breathing hitching, heart thudding loudly in his chest as the hysterics began. How could this be real? It was not. You're having an episode, you must go, now! Oh, Eleni, how could you have left me? A hand lifted, slender digits trembling as they were pressed to his forehead and then a soft cry of distress left his slightly parted lips before he turned on a booted heel and fled, vaguely hearing what he thought was his name being desperately shouted.

☛ GET INSIDE YOUR CHARACTER'S HEAD! aka The Excessively Detailed Headcanon Meme

                                       𝙴𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡...                              𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝓶𝒆𝓵𝓸𝓭𝔂𝚒𝚜 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇         𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 ᵈᵉᵉᵖᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰.

                                                         ᴵᶰᵈᶤᵉˑ | ˢᵉˡᵉᶜᵗᶤᵛᵉ | ᵂʳᶤᵗᵗᵉᶰ ᵇʸ: ˢᵃᵐ

                                        𝙴𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡...                               𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝓶𝒆𝓵𝓸𝓭𝔂𝚒𝚜 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇          𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 ᵈᵉᵉᵖᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵉᵃʳˢ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝔑𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰.

                                                          ᴵᶰᵈᶤᵉˑ | ˢᵉˡᵉᶜᵗᶤᵛᵉ | ᵂʳᶤᵗᵗᵉᶰ ᵇʸ: ˢᵃᵐ