Gotta make it look real.

Elle felt herself going paler than her usual porcelain complexion, her hands gripping the counter edge so hard that her knuckles were white. “I-I do not think so…?” she stammered, eyes going wide. She’d never been fed on by a Djinn, had never heard stories about Nymphs being targeted by Djinn either, but she knew the effect her kind had on Vampires, could it be similar? When Marco stood up, Elle whimpered softly, backing up further into the counter even though there was nowhere to go. She was terrified, that much was clear, so when Marco suggested that there was an alternative… “What is it?” she blurted quickly, desperately. “Please, w-what is your idea…? I-I will do better this time.”

Marco sat back in his seat, sensing the fear that ran through her, only making him hungrier to invade her dreams, and feed off of it. Her body language was only antagonize him to use her in that way. As Marco stood up, he looked her over as if to examine her for a physical weak spot, simply just to continue his intimidation tactics. That was terribly difficult to do it, her natural disposition seeming to be meek and polite. “I don’t need a lot, Guera. You will give me what I want, whether you comply or not. Cutting your hair didn’t do much to keep you in line. I could cut you other places and see how that fares,” he threatened. Marco played with his cigar cutter, closing and opening it in his pocket, then pulling it out. “Which finger do you use least you think?” The djinn asked.

send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including:                              - what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone                              - what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone                              - what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone                              - my muse’s last text to your muse

Elle bit her lip as the familiar feeling of guilt filled her chest at the reminder of all her friends who were still confined to their cells. It was survivors guilt, in a sense, and she’d had to deal with it ever since she was claimed- it was honestly the only negative. Hastily tossing out the broken pieces of glass, Elle hardly even noticed she’d nicked her finger with how nervous she was, a little smudge of blood left on her clothes as she wiped her sweaty palms on them. “I- I would not do it again, Sir. It was a- a mistake,” she insisted, turning to face him with wide eyes. “I would never break your trust again I- pleasedonotfeedfromme,” she mumbled rapidly, brows pinching with fear as she backed up into the counter. “I…am not worthy of such a thing. I do not, um, taste very good…?” she rambled- a lie, of course, Nymph blood was coveted by more than one other species. “Please, Sir?”

Marco wasn’t sure if Elle had explicitly told Jude what happened, or if she simply read her thoughts. But either way, the fact it was revealed angered him. Marco liked to keep what he did secret, made it easier to prey on new people who didn’t know what to expect from him. “I doubt that. I bet nymph blood tastes pretty good. I don’t think I’ve fed from a fellow supernatural. I wonder what it would be like,” the djinn began. Marco wondered if that would increase his power at all, or at the very least, be more satisfying than feeding from human blood. Marco stood up, taking another puff from his cigar, the end of it igniting in an angry red color as he inhaled. “You can beg all you want. But we made a deal. No one was supposed to know what happened. And you broke that deal. How can I trust you, huh? I’d much rather invade your dreams again, but then how will you learn? I do have one idea though, giving you another chance. But you won’t like the repercussions of it,” he added.

Elle chewed on her lip at the question, her eyes falling to to cigar slicer and the lighter before she hastily looked away again, returning her attention to the dishes. “I am claimed now, yes Sir,” she responded, foolishly thinking that her not offering the name of her Master would mean Marco wouldn’t figure out who it was. When he called her out on having told people about what’d happened last time, Elle was so startled that she dropped the plate she was washing, jumping about a foot in the air as it crashed back into the sink and broke in half. “I-I am so s-sorry,” she stuttered, eyes wide- though it remained to be seen whether she was apologizing for the plate of having told. Biting her lips so hard she thought she’d draw blood, Elle quickly started picking the pieces of the broken plate out of the sink, setting them aside while determinedly not looking over at Marco. “I, um, I…I did not mean to tell anyone,” she said hesitantly, unable to outright lie about it. “I am so sorry, Sir, truly.” 

Marco truly didn’t care if she was claimed. He fucked with anyone he wanted, regardless of their status or loyalties here. “Must be fun for you then. Not having to be in those cells, while your friends there suffer,” he taunted, a sly smirk wrapped across his face. As the plate broke, Marco sat back in the wooden dining chair, taking a draw from his cigar, the end burning a bright orange. “Means you can’t be trusted. There really isn’t much use for you if that’s the case,” the djinn started. If there was one thing Marco had learned, while working in his family’s business, it was the importance of trust. Making sure that those you confide in, have just as much to lose as you do. “Means I’ll have to feed from you, guera. That’s the only thing you’re good for,” he said with a shrug. “The question is, which way. You want some input on it?” he asked her.