crashnbxrn

[crashnbxrn]

rresurrectionn‌:

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || SIWOO ALMOST SNARLS at the other’s self-importance, as though he hasn’t presented him with a statement much similar to his own. even if this vampire is an important figure, he’s got no way of knowing. surprisingly enough, there is no wifi or a means of communication where he comes from, in the catacombs of a sentinel in a city renowned for its scenery, and brimming with intellect. if he spares a moment to try and revisit those memories, there is nothing concrete he can pull from the depths of his mind to justify why he doesn’t know who the ‘stranger’ is. he’s spent the last three years successfully drowning the things he felt in that situation and has no interest in digging up the past – but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things to be felt. first, when he still doesn’t recognise the other, siwoo thinks of england more generally. he thinks of the greenery of which, compared to home, the states does not have much. he thinks of neighbourhoods obvious in what they are and the kinds of people they house, so as to not leave anybody guessing. he thinks of the weather, cold and crisp and unmissable, yet he finds himself longing to be hit by millions of bullet-like raindrops one more time, like that night he and calus had escaped. when he’d felt, for the first time in a long time, that he was alive, still. he has not felt like that since then, no matter where he found himself, and what happened since that moment. perhaps until now.

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || WHEN THE REALISATION finally hits, siwoo reacts late. he’s having a hard time putting a name to a face, or even a voice to a name. by this time, his name has been spoken and, although he stands his ground, feet firmly planted in the sand, he feels himself tip back with the force of the embrace. normally he would react negatively to being touched by somebody he doesn’t recognise, but the slight familiarity continues to bewilder him to a dangerous point. a point where he finds himself unable to react, until the arms tighten around him with a strength that he has only met once. he wants to blame not recognising apollo on anything but himself, suddenly embarrassed. the truth is, however, it is on him. he chooses not to spend time deciphering his identity, after decades of doing that with lycans and getting absolutely nowhere. but then he feels it. he really does. everything at once and with the words registering whole minutes after they’re spoken. apollo must think he’s gone deaf in the time that they’ve been apart, but it’s so hard to speak when he knows that what’ll follow are questions. he tries not to think about it. tries to put it out of his mind long enough to be able to return the hug, shaky arms raising to wrap around apollo. he feels strange in his arms.

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || “IN THE FLESH,” siwoo teases, giving him a tight squeeze. he’s glad that apollo can’t see him struggle to hold back tears. this is the only connection he has to home, and one of the many friends he spent decades blaming for not seeking him out before finally accepting that they simply had not known what became of him. “mm, well, i don’t quite think it’s been long enough to have a doppelganger running around so, if you’ll take me, then yes. i’m siwoo.” his heart isn’t in it, but it’s enough, he thinks. and if not that, then certainly the way he continues clinging to apollo, several questions of his own not yet materialising in his mind yet. perhaps there are too many.

it had been what ━ 10 years? maybe 20 years since someone had made him cry? apollo didn’t trust many people, preferring to keep his emotions to himself (albeit anger and rage were well acquainted with other immortals). but siwoo? despite it being over 50 years, the other vampire would always have uncompromising access to his heart. weakness was never a forte for apollo, but he supposed siwoo was enough of both strength and the like that he hardly was concerned. “you haven’t grown a day since I met you.” his words are quiet despite the ferocity of his hug, a breathy laugh masked by an attempt to quell his tears at siwoo’s words. “and you haven’t changed either.” although he knows that something has. he can feel it, practically; call it immortal sense or just something subconscious, but apollo is nearly entirely certain that whatever occurred after siwoo dropped off the face of the earth... it wasn’t anything good.

he lets out a small sigh, squeezing the other’s body once more as if to convey he wouldn’t be running off anytime soon. and truly, neither would apollo ━ suddenly, living in new york had become twice as good, a lingering confusion into how the hell siwoo managed to stay above his radar and never meet in the past half a century. “I’ll only take the original siwoo, thank you very much, and I think you fit the bill for that perfectly.” apollo childishly sniffles as he straights up, pulling his face back in order to peer at the other vampire’s. he probably looks a mess, feels like a mess too, and siwoo doesn’t look so good either  ━  he supposes this sort of ‘reunion’ wouldn’t have been planned to be with a dry eye. “jesus, look at you.” apollo smiles wide, a rare unfeigned happiness brightening his face. “it’s been too long, kid.” and just like siwoo’s pertinence to ‘darlin’, so did apollo in calling him ‘kid’. it was playful chide, if anything, considering they were both well over 300 years old ━ and yet, despite all that, the elder felt like his heart-strings pull at the memories associated with such. “I felt like I’d never see you again.”

[crashnbxrn]

rresurrectionn‌:

elias’ most prevalent feeling is surprise. surprise at the fact that apollo remains so calm in the face of imminent danger –  or at least, what must feel like it. elias can’t tell whether it’s the fact that he can’t smell him or he’s just forgotten the scent of his sire. right now, he can’t care, because it’s a blessing. it ensures he can follow apollo to a more secluded area of the city, and they can talk then. a conversation between father and son should always be private. that said he’s stronger – has an entire three hundred years on him. he can take apollo on if it doesn’t go as elias expects; he’s always been able to fight back harder. but he doesn’t want to start with a fight. he wants to start with a talk.      he follows every move apollo makes – the near-collision with a mother and her child, the side-eyeing of the window in an attempt to make out who elias is. but the anticipation of that move means the elder has a chance to hide himself better, which really entails getting lost in a crowd of approaching people while simultaneously keeping an eye on his fledgling.      it seems elias has more of a relationship with this alleyway than the people in his life. it’s certainly not the first time he has found himself between these buildings, about to have a heated conversation about his past mistakes. basil had been harder – he truly is elias’ son. adopted of course, but son nonetheless. he had raised the lycan from a young age, prior to his turnning. their parting was unfortunate, a battle of the species.      when it comes to apollo, elias hardly knows anything about him. all he can recall is a royal background, and a lot of betrayal. even at that age, so long ago, elias hadn’t had much of an interest in the backgrounds of those he sired, or those he even came across more generally. but, he could still feel guilt then. now, not so much. just a lot of regret, and confusion, and longing. there are many people he longs for, but those who had at one time depended on him are the ones he wants to reconnect with the most.      he’s pulled from his thoughts when the scent almost completely disappears from the air – it lingers a little, but only a little. elias sighs deeply and turns his nose up, opening up his senses to feel where he may have run off to – and then he remembers central park. a common hangout for vampires and lycans who want to escape the busyness of the streets, but equally unsafe since the news about the hybrid dropped. not that the fledglings would know much about that.      “ah…you were always good at running away, but even better at coming back…” the elder muses as he enters the park, scanning the area. he doesn’t even know if apollo can hear him, but it’s as good a start as any. “aren’t you a little old to be playing hide and seek?”

almost within the parameters of perfect timing, apollo melts into the backdrop with almost unnatural ease, the entrance of the park within view as he hides himself behind a particularly dense amount of foliage. he fully expected his scent to be practically everywhere, more so wanting to get a heads up on whoever the hell was following him if anything. within apollo’s mind he had come to a few conclusions yet to be discerned otherwise ― they were a vampire, they wanted something with him, and it seemed they weren’t keen on causing a scene in front of place full of mortals. it wasn’t like the death dealer was against such a fact; if he had his way, the whole world might know that humans weren’t at the top of the food chain. still, aleksander’s word was his own creed, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to follow along.

apollo isn’t surprised when the scent hits him again ― from his hiding place, his eyes trail with precision across the scene in hope of catching even a glimpse of whoever had dared to follow. he was looking for opportunity, not comfortability. three things had been immortalized within apollo’s mind; that they were a vampire, they wanted something with him, and they were tentative of confrontation. while he was sure of the first two, the last he was on the fence about ― if anything, he knows vampires host all different kinds of personalities, that of which he knew was perfectly evident in himself. apollo couldn’t know the other’s intents and purposes until he met them face to face, and upon the moment he heard the voice he only became twice as perplexed. 

elias ― he doesn’t immediately put two and two together, racing through his memories of the past 622 years as he swears he’s heard it before. the shadows coat apollo well, hiding him in the midst of thought and the possibility of disregarding safety, the chiding seeming personal and quizzing apollo on just who it was. still, he hardly expects his sire to turn the corner of the path, unseen in over half a century and yet waltzing into the park as if they were meeting for a picnic. suddenly, everything clicks into place ― the words directed at him, the need to follow, the absence of the other male for the majority of apollo’s life. then comes the emotions; his face twists into that of confusion, then anger, then an unnatural calm ― apollo doesn’t quite know what to feel, usually steel in his approach no matter the person. he supposes though, as elias passes him and steps a bit down the path, that he might want to see exactly what the hell elias was thinking in tailing him like a dog. “I would think you should direct that question at yourself.” apollo’s words are pointed, expression neutral as he steps down from his spot and onto the side of the walkway. “that’s interesting coming from a guy who’s hidden himself away this entire time.”

[crashnbxrn]

apollo’s mood was often based around one of two things; either being aware at all times, or wanting to ‘go with the flow’ in sorts. most moments he ran with the latter, and today was no exception ― the hint of a smug although relaxed smile trained on his lips aired confidence in his surroundings, and confident he was. unlike oftentimes when he would enter into the park and the daily populace would be thin, the concert being held in the center drew in a crowd bigger than he was used to. well, this was new york city after all ― he’d experienced this type of weaving between people far too often, and yet hardly in the park. the event lay on the precipice of safety and danger; here, surrounding by the scents of wolf, human, and vampire alike, it would be a death sentence to their species of they decided to act out. apollo, for the most part, felt at ease knowing this might have become one of the safest parts of town within the current hour ― that is, if someone didn’t decide to muck it up.

he had been hidden underneath the thick green branches of an oak tree when he was suddenly torn out of momentary euphoria. the scent, to him, is sour ― memories and remembrances have a tendency to warp things, and if anything he knew this to be a warning sign. still, he doesn’t fully realize the situation until she shows up; illyssa’s appearance, and quite frankly annoying presence, is enough to cause his amiable demeanor to drop, speckled eyes flashing behind designer sunglasses as their gazes meet. he hadn’t seen her since the truce was created, flashes of their last battle anything but faded in his mind. the distance between them is (unfortunately) not as long as he would have hoped, his trained focus on the lycan as she stepped up to him unwavering even when she speaks. apollo, whether in truth or no, is faster (and to him, stronger) than illyssa could ever be ― even with the current environment, if she decided to take the opportunity so would he. “interesting, even after 14 years your tongue still hasn’t slowed in the slightest.” he lets out a huff of laughter, canines flashing in a strained grin. apollo hardly seeks to compliment her as he looks down at the one he deemed above all else enemy. “it also seems that you have as well. shame in that, I would’ve payed good money to see you beaten into the ground if I didn’t get to do it myself.”

APOLLO | @crashnbxrn

                    Central Park was one of the largest areas of just open grass and trees in New York, and sometimes that is exactly what Illyssa needed when she was feeling a little too closed in at home. Living in the city was never something she regretted, moving here with Vivian all those years ago had been one of the best decisions she had ever made. She really did love being in the middle of everything, just sometimes she couldn’t help but miss more open spaces.

                       There was some sort of event or something happening in the park tonight, so it wasn’t as quiet as she would’ve liked. But the pathways were pretty empty and no one was really giving her any second glances. A quiet walk was just what she needed. 

                       Coming around a bend she stopped, a familiar scent assaulting her senses. As she turned just taking a look around her surroundings she found herself face to face with someone she hadn’t seen since the truce had been called. She stepped forward but made sure she was keeping an appropriate amount of distance between them. She couldn’t afford to slip up right now. 

                    “So you survived all the fighting, did you? That’s a pity.”

[crashnbxrn]

for siwoo;; something you regret doing either recently or in your far past?

“there’s always a price to pay for being too comfortable. i think if i regret anything most, it’s not being careful enough. and…i guess i can say i regret allowing the clan to pull me in back in the day.” the few regrets he does have are because of things that aren’t actually his fault, but he sort of blames himself for anyway. he regrets not being there for apollo and having no way of telling him what happened in the sixties, for one. @crashnbxrn

[crashnbxrn]

what's stopping you from going back to experiencing the same things you did in 1963?

“well besides it being 2019 and time travel still not happening? let’s just say I made a….lasting impression on the immortals on that side of the world. I think if I went back there i’d spend more time fighting them all off than relaxing and taking a trip down memory lane.”

[crashnbxrn]

what did you receive praise for?

“what? way back when? oh, I was about 13 and I managed to spear a boar on my own. karma works in funny ways, eh?

[crashnbxrn]

is there any part of your past you wish you could do differently?

“words of wisdom right here….bitch I’m fabulous. or something. in other terms, nothing at all. I’m more than happy with the choices I’ve made. but, sort of on a whim, I’d be….curious to see what would happen if that little meeting between aleksander and vivian was…interrupted.”

[crashnbxrn]

what's something you'd like to do that you haven't had a chance to yet?

“you sure you’re asking the right vampire? I mean, you name it and I’ve probably done it. I guess it’d be cool though to explore some abandoned shipwreck in the ocean. haven’t done that one….yet.”

[crashnbxrn]

what's your biggest regret?

“not wringing the neck of that sorry excuse of a dog illyssa when I last had the chance. seriously, I trust aleksander’s word, but this truce is ridiculous when you have….things like her running around.”

[ @catcstrophcs ]

[crashnbxrn]

fondest memory? any time you'd like to go back to?

“a fond memory? well that’s not hard to choose considering…” apollo pauses, his amiable expression faltering for a moment. “nevermind. let me see....the first time i received praise from my teacher. that was something i’ll never forget.” he lets out a huff of breath. “as for a time i’d like to go back to? 600 years and I haven’t really thought about that. but....1963, in england. I met someone there who made being a vampire not at all as lonely as I thought it’d be. I’d like to experience it again.”

[ @rresurrectionn ]

[crashnbxrn]

going to be sending some questions out in a few minutes 💗

[crashnbxrn]

rresurrectionn·:

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || SIWOO LIKES THE rules. every single one of them. he wouldn’t dream of breaking a single one if it means his safety. the most important (at least nowadays) seems to be the buddy system. siwoo typically has no issue finding a buddy – the man he’s been clinging to for fifty years, trying to avoid immediate death for only a small portion of that time. with each form of torture and its daily implementation came a similar longing that apollo feels, though not for a person – for escape. it took fifty years of planning and endurance before siwoo had the courage and the strength to break out, maul every lycan in sight and get his friend out before something else became of them both.

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || TODAY, HE’S WITHOUT his friend. the beach has remained siwoo’s favourite place to this day. the one place to clear his mind. particularly in the middle of the night, when mortals are nowhere to be seen. it’s become his. not all of it, but this spot, where a strange vampire with a familiar scent seems to have taken solace. their attitude does nothing but rub him the wrong way, clouding his perception. he understands things differently now; processes them with difficulty. his senses are off, even three years after his escape. hardly able to feel the wind in his hair or the sand between his fingers without the sharp prickling of tears in his eyes.

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || BUT HE DOESN’T cry. not out of sadness, not out of frustration. not in front of others and never when he wants to be intimidating – even though with grandiose bags beneath his narrowed eyes, he looks tired more than anything. and he doesn’t want to fight, for once. had this been a lycan, he may have felt differently. but the stench of vampire is the only sure thing, even if he can’t tell which vampire it is. apollo hasn’t escaped his mind at all during the five decades they’ve been apart – but, similarly, he’s had too many things on his mind to focus on wanting to come back to him. ultimately siwoo’s need for safety won over being reunited with the elder…but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be.

◜.•° .•° .•°◞  ━━━━━━ || STILL, APOLLO’S VOICE doesn’t register at all. “i have better things to do with my life than go out of my way to scare you, darlin’.” he scoffs, having half a mind to kick at the other’s back to force him to move out of the way. “this is my spot. if anyone here needs to piss off, it’s you, but i’ll give you a pass – for now. you’re new, evidently. not very impressed about your arsehole attitude.”

apollo doesn’t make mistakes, or at least often tries not to. failure was not his forte, and if he wasn’t battered from it by aleksander, he’d do it to himself on his own accord. still, after 51 years of siwoo’s existence practically being washed off the planet, the death dealer had forgotten what it was like to not only be in his presence, but also hear his voice. he supposed that was why, when the other spoke, he flat out doesn’t recognize it. a twisted snarl tugs on the corner of his lips, pulling his expression into a hardly subdued manner of sarcasm as he barely turns his face into the wind. tendrils of oak brown hair brush over his eyes, masking his gaze as well as blocking it likewise from seeing fully behind him, although he does not quarrel over it ― his senses were keen enough after no less than 600 years of being a vampire, practically the slightest of movements processed in an easy manner. “nah, you’re clearly the new one considering you don’t know who the fuck I am, you little-” and then he freezes. apollo could outrun a bullet, predict another’s motion by a hair trigger, but this? this? all of the sudden, it all hits him more than a comet from outer-goddamn-space could― the tone of voice, the accent, the nickname. no one on this side of the world would ever be caught dead calling apollo ‘darlin’, much less anyone who didn’t know what he could do; that is, all except for one man. one vampire. a vampire he hadn’t seen in over half a century.

“siwoo―?” every amount of confidence, cruelty, and sadism that could ever fit within a jar labeled ‘apollo’ dissipates in a matter of seconds. his voice is a whisper, words breathed out almost as if he was scared of the answer to come. “is that...” you? he can’t finish the sentence, sucking in a breath as he fully turns and trains glassy eyes on the one person he never thought he’d see again. and all of the sudden, he’s taken aback― to the nights filled with music and dancing, to dawns barely creeping over the horizon as they staggered down the street, of learning what it meant to be immortal and leaving behind the only other identity he had ever known. and here they were, in a city on the complete other side of the hemisphere, unknown to each other’s existence for what felt like a millennium. before apollo can even think of the meaning behind his actions, consequences be damned, he’s lurching forwards at possibly break-neck speed and latching himself onto siwoo― arms wrap around the younger’s back and hold him tight against his taller frame, face burying into his shoulder as he nearly falls down onto his past companion, dragging him with him in pure and unmasked revelation. “oh my god it really is you, jesus christ...”

[crashnbxrn]

～ @seph-millerlyco ― 「seph」

fair game ― such words hardly lay in apollo’s vocabulary. wolves, humans, other vampires; it didn’t matter who you were, if he didn’t like you you’d be dead by sunset. inferiority was something he attributed to essentially all who were not him, and yet strangely he did not share the same sentimental hate his brethren targeted towards lycans and their mangy ‘war’. well, at least for the most part. instead, his own terms on whether he would even be amiable in the slightest towards someone was always based on three things; their strength, their personality, and their ability to handle themselves. it was not often someone met all three ― in most cases, apollo would be able to sniff out some sorts of weakness somewhere. the exception? a rare few, one of which being a lycan apollo never thought in his 622 years of existing he would be friends with in the slightest. seph was a pacifist, against violence and everything apparent apollo stood for; yet, his attitude and personality were things the vampire could not admit to readily appreciating, although the blatant showing of strength in seph’s choice of work did help somewhat.

apollo was surprised at how crowded the park was, sure prior to entering the area that the cool weather would only deter rather than attract. humans; and I thought I knew all about ‘em, the vampire lets out a scoff-like breath, leaning back on his elbows on the large rock he had been lounging atop for around the past half an hour. he had chosen the right time to venture out on some ‘leisure’ time, particularly on his own and without the annoyances of having someone tagging along ― nighttime had yet to set in, the sun still dim over the horizon but thankfully shielded behind the looming skyscrapers above. apollo had been doing well to relax as much as he stayed aware, the occasional scent of immortals barely reaching his perch atop the landscape that allowed him to observe those that passed by. still, his attention is drawn to a particularly familiar as well as ‘loud’ lycan aroma that fills his nose from down the farther side of the rock, eyebrow raising as he sits up and peers over only to be met with an all too familiar face. “ah, well look who the fucking cat dragged in.” apollo calls down from his perch, grin stretching across his face at his playful teasing. “didn’t expect to see you here, you damn chihuahua. shouldn’t you be off to the dog park?”

[crashnbxrn]

622 years since his birth. 597 since his death. apollo has learned a lot by then, changed a lot by then, warped by the powers of the world he put himself on a pedestal above. the day he found himself on death’s door....it is a day he has washed away to bits and pieces. it hardly concerns him, and yet the feeling of wilting away does all the same....it is a feeling he never wants to experience again in his life. if he would find himself in such a position again, he only statistically prays his end is quick ― not like he has any plans to be gone from the world anytime soon. and yet, even with that realization and banishment of the beginning hours of his un-death, there is one thing he cannot forget. to be created ― his sire, future unknown to apollo, his disappearance ringing in the back of his head like an insensitive case of tinnitus that refused to escape him. it came at times he least expected it, random moments that caught apollo off guard ― it pissed him off to no avail, that he might not have full control over what he chose to remember and likewise, forget. 597 years of wondering, wondering if he might ever get the answers he sought, but to no avail. apollo wasn’t weak, he wasn’t the same bright-eyed bushy-tailed newborn who fought to control his thirst ― he was a grown man, a talented vampire, and one hell of terrifying demon.

someone is following me ― it’s the first thought that he can only focus on, polished point-toed shoes navigating apollo throughout the sea of people around him. in the ‘city that never sleeps’, he was thankful he didn’t need to give regular excuses as to why he only went out at night. the term ‘just business’ was enough of a phrase most would understand, but even so the general populace would hardly stop to ask. charcoal grey suit flutters in the harshness of the fall breeze for barely a moment, and that’s when he smells it ― he doesn’t need to turn his head to know another immortal is not far behind, it’s only the slightest hint of something rather than human, yet his vampiric senses hardly fail apollo as he merely holds his head eye and side-steps a woman and her child. he takes the opportunity to pause and glance at a store window, shadowed eyes speckled with hazel sweeping over his vicinity in a momentary hope to catch whatever it was following him, only to no avail. apollo knows that the second of solace allowed might result in an unnecessary fight ― or rather, most fights were necessary in the vampire’s eyes. he decides, if anything, confrontation could come and he could hardly care ― apollo diverts into an immediate alleyway and in a flurry of a few seconds, disappears from view and sprints in the blink of an eye to the nearby central park. he hardly believes he ‘lost’ whoever was following him, merely delaying the inevitable rather than feeling the need to escape. so for now, figured hooded by the shadows of the oak trees and his footsteps muffled in the grass as he navigated the area, he merely waits ― if they wanted him, then by god they could come and get him.

closed starter || @crashnbxrn

it’s been so long since his behaviour has been good. but he’s had people cleaning up after him, fixing his mistakes, for centuries. elias is not used to being abandoned. if anything, he’s the one doing the abandoning and usually for reasons he finds to be valid, though the others may not agree. when it comes to his fledglings…elias wasn’t born to be a leader of children. and that’s exactly what they are; reborn, having to be taught everything, supported in more ways than he can provide help with.      that doesn’t mean elias doesn’t have regrets. and when he sees him again, plaguing the streets of new york city, he’s awash with guilt. apollo’s turning happened a long time ago, at a time when elias was younger, and a lot more reckless. his attitude then wasn’t influenced by the hardships he’d had to face, but the privilege of having none. and because things are happening the exact opposite now, and he is trying harder to be better, he feels a pull to at least try and explain himself. maybe he’d felt bad for the fact that apollo was dying – maybe he wanted a friend at the time. he’d helped as much as he could before boredom struck and he left the country without looking back. in hindsight, he may have been too hasty. apollo was always a good kid. elias doesn’t see why that may have changed.      that said, he is surprised to find his fledgling here of all places. elias hasn’t kept tabs on him, but has heard things over the years; scattered rumours he had no intention of chasing up. but it’s so different now that the second he catches sight of apollo at some distance away, he decides to follow. he doesn’t want to come on too strong and expose himself for what he is in front of the humans still walking the streets. he’ll wait – find the right moment to talk. stay far enough away that his fledgling won’t sense his presence yet.

[crashnbxrn]

～ @rresurrectionn​ ―「𝖘𝖎𝖜𝖔𝖔」

time; it wasn’t something apollo heeded very often. 600 years in the making, even something as close to 100 went by in the blink of an eye for the ex-death dealer. still, his passive approach to growing older by the second shouldn’t be mistaken for boredom ― there were few things he had to worry over in such an immortal cycle of life, his past was behind him, and despite the recent trifles between wolves and bloodsuckers, he couldn’t complain. and yet still....apollo would never willingly admit to such a thing, but the smallest of memories held the slightest longing anchored to his heart. modernization was something he was getting to used to by the day, and along with that came the creeping shadow of people past ― in a city full of immortals, it seemed only eventual that he might come across a mutual remembrance of someone from before his arrival in new york. but even with that, the one person he considered it hardly being ‘bad’ to get in contact with again was nowhere to be found. life, however, worked in funny ways ― and apollo supposed death did too.

he doesn’t really know why he comes here so often; in the beginning, the vampire would tell himself it was more of an aesthetic choice than anything. a place to ‘stretch his wings’ without the worry of other coven members breathing down his neck. the sand was calming, the waves breaking at the shore illuminated by the moon ― the night was apollo’s solace, like many, but he soon found it to be much more. for a man who tried to separate his past identity with his present, he had a funny way of dealing with longing. and maybe that was it? longing. longing for the second vampire he had ever met in his un-death, and the first to show him it was hardly all that bad. the beach ― it was his favorite place. siwoo. the name lies silent in the back of apollo’s mind, as if him saying it out loud would bring ghosts back to haunt a man already fighting to be rid of them. thus as well is the presence behind him silent, hardly catching him off guard as much as it pisses him off to being followed. “if you wanted to scare a man, this isn’t the way.” apollo’s voice is cold and distant, not unlike his usual approach but....much more slated. as if his mind is somewhere else, which it was ― too caught up in the memory of his vanished companion. “did you hear what I said? maybe I wasn’t clear enough; piss off.”

[crashnbxrn]

「 you think yourself above the wolves, above the makers and the destroyers of the world, above the gods. and yet, little lion, you have so far to go before you are above yourself.」

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

what’s up, what’s up ladies n gents n everybody in between! my name’s skye, mun here of the lovely not apollo choi (fc. jackson wang)! i’m very excited to be here, i’ve been eyeing this roleplay for about a month now I believe (??) and have been wanting to join tenfold, which I finally decided to go through with! below the cut you’ll find out some more of my boy here ― if you would like to plot, my discord user is sunnyburst#8001 or you can hit me up in tumblr PM’s! can’t wait to get to know you all, MWUAH 💗💗

( JACKSON WANG. MALE. ) Aleksander’s coven is intimately familiar with ( APOLLO CHOI, ) a dedicate Death Dealer for the coven. ( HE) is a ( 622 ) year old vampire known throughout the New World Coven for being ( CLEVER + STEADFAST. ) However, those who are familiar with them also know that they are very ( MANIPULATIVE + CRUEL. ) They’re known for being the ( LION. ) Though they are technically disbanded, they are still dedicated to their cause.

  ⤹ ―――――  ⤸

～ INFORMATION

full name // apollo choi [ it should be noted that his birth name is kept closely guarded ] 

nickname(s) // leo, heatstroke

age // 25 622

gender // male

species // vampire

title // the lion

birthdate // august 6, 1397

birthplace // hanyang, korea (modern-day seoul)

occupation // ex-death dealer, ceo of a major movie studio

ethnicity // korean

orientation // bisexual, although he’s scared to admit it and keeps it under wraps

status // single

languages // korean, english, spanish, french, cantonese

―――

fc // jackson wang

hair // dark brown

eyes // chocolate/hazel - gold

height // 6'3" ft

weight // 183 lb

body // muscular, slim

style // suave and modern, always clean-cut, fashionable but doesn’t experiment too much

defining features // besides his canines, speckled hazel heterochromia in his left eye

tattoos // n/a

scars // n/a

―――

horoscope // leo

zodiac // ox

element // fire

moral alignment // neutral evil

type // ESTP - the entrepreneur

house // gryffindor

religion // none - atheist

fears // really only one; to have his secrets be outed without his wanting

chronic // n/a

positive // insightful, clever, reliable, articulate, charismatic, level-headed, hard-working, incisive, authoritative

neutral // determined, distinctive, passionate, romantic, complex

negative // blunt, manipulative, crafty, hot-headed, cruel, vengeful, presumptuous, twisted

⤹ ――――― ⤸

～ PAST

it’s long af whoops

[ TW: mentions of physical abuse, slight gore, death ]

apollo was born to a high-class noble family in hanyang, korea on what we know as august 6, 1397

growing up in the peak of the joseon dynasty and one of the country’s golden ages, there was not much the young boy needed, but rather everything that he wanted

his father was a high-ranking member of the city’s caste system, one of the generals that assisted in ushering in the new era

his childhood is spent alternating between school for preparation in aristocracy and basking in the social standards of the time ― while he isn’t old enough to begin more ‘dangerous’ tasks, the patriarch implements training in everything from horseback riding to whittling for apollo to enjoy

life isn’t good for him, it’s great ; he doesn’t have to worry about much, and when he does there’s people around him available to clear up any ‘misunderstandings’ in a heartbeat

still, as he grows older, a superiority complex begins to take hold of the young boy, coupled strangely with a boredom he had yet to experience before

the result? a horrible combination that begins to warp his personality in tidbits, before he fully ‘sinks in’ so to speak

by 12 his father has deemed him ready to embark on more trials outside of simple pleasantries. never mind the golden age of science and art ― apollo’s father was a militaristic man through and through, and he knew war would come one way or another

so the youth begins to learn of the knowledge of battle; how to wield a sword, proper fighting techniques, the instinct of survival ― such is beaten into him in more ways than one, excuses for failure reaching deaf ears and perfection being the only goal

this type of treatment does well to cause both vice and virtue for apollo; the once happy boy is twisted in a grasp of frost and cruelty, and yet he finds himself training ever harder and hardly taking heed to words outside of his father’s opinion

he’s 16, young and ablaze, a fire coursing through his veins despite his frigid approach. apollo’s beginning to make a name for himself, partaking in whatever challenges present themselves, discerning towards talks of a bright future when all he wanted was blood

his elders begin to take note of this and, under pleased recommendation from his father, ascend apollo to become apart of the high-ranking royal guard ordered to protect the king and his family

while he would rather be out on the battlefield (despite the age of scientific expansion, there was also trifles to be meddled in), apollo took the opportunity with steadfast determination and took his job as seriously as one could

he finds himself betrothed at age 18 on consideration by his father who is eager for a lineage, a fragile noble girl in all sense of the word being chosen as a ‘perfect fit’. apollo could hardly care, however  ― if he had his way, he would be married to his sword, yet he supposed a woman would do for the time being

still, time goes on with little interruptions; the beast marries the beauty, he’s promoted to personal guard of the youngest prince, and his often-times anger is allowed to be sated on whoever is unfortunate enough to end up in chains that day

yet, soon trouble begins to brew, although not with him ― tensions between korea and japan begin to rock the state, rumors of war falling over the distant hills being drunk up by the common rabble. apollo is eager for such to arrive, hoping to take part in what he sees as ‘festivities’, despite being obviously chained to protection over the 13 year old boy all considered ‘prince’

and yet this boy was the cause for much of his frustration ― opposed to when apollo was young, the prince was futile and weak, eager to take part in more pleasantries rather than learn of his future duties to the dynasty

such often enraged the elder, forced to bite his tongue in earnest of stepping out his ‘boundaries’ despite having much to say

trouble, however, spirals downwards quickly within his life ― with the prince turning 20 and him lingering atop 25, apollo would hope that the 5-year continuation from him first being assigned would only shape up the younger. however, it seems to be quite the opposite; the prince spends his time ‘play fighting’, as apollo calls it, and dragging his guard through the forest in daily hunts that hardly often accounted for anything due to his skill. on top of that, it is found that his young wife is infertile, and despite hardly caring for any child at all, she is cast out of the marriage and lowered within society’s eyes

yet one such hunting trip results in tragedy ― after the two embark on their routine that apollo had become all-too used to, they come across a herd of wild boars the prince is eager to slaughter. after attempting to quell his lineage to no avail, an argument ensues; the prince comments on how apollo is out of line, and he likewise comments that the royal is going to get himself killed ― unfortunately, it results on the attention of the boars being caught, and apollo hardly has time to get out of the way before he’s being battered and speared through with bone

the prince, in retaliation, runs away

spine broken, bleeding out on autumn leaves, apollo shifts back and forth through consciousness enough to make out an approaching figure before everything goes dark ― such a figure, unknown to him, would change his life (and death) forever

he awakes a day later in a home hidden by the shadows of the treetops, not far from hanyang. he believes he is dead, and yet the being waiting there for him discerns otherwise ― he is alive, just not in the traditional sense.

apollo spends a month with the mysterious figure, who he comes to know as his ‘sire’, and learns of his existence. of how he was destined to die, and came by much more powerful and much stronger. of how the figure had been stalking them for the perfect moment to strike, only to find another opportunity instead. the realization of him being ‘vampire’ surprisingly comes easy to apollo; he approaches his existence as a gift more than a curse, especially considering the abilities that come along with it.

when he returns home he is met with shock, remorse, celebration, and guilt, particularly from the young prince who had abandoned him. his story is simple― after being left to die by the royal, apollo managed to crawl to a nearby stream and patch his wounds with mud and leaves, obviously leaving out the ‘broken spine’ detail. his explanation as to how he had healed completely back to his healthy self? blessings from the gods, that of which was good enough to deem him fit for society

much to apollo’s pleasure, the prince was chastised and punished in a dutiful manner for his cowardice and betrayal. becoming used to his usual bloodlust that came from not feeding went easier than he expected as well ― the ‘lepers’ cast out provided well enough sustenance for apollo, and not a single soul bat an eyelash at their deaths. 

ageing, however, was a different issue ― he could not stay 25 within the city for long, and yet religion played enough of a part in hiding such a fact. years passed and apollo gave praises to the gods for his ‘youthful’ appearance even at 32, noble families falling over him in an effort to obtain being part of his lineage, and yet he hardly cared to give them a glance ― to apollo, there were better things on the horizon, and he wanted to experience it all

so, what was the best thing to do? fake his death, obviously. superstition ran high in his community, so he simply walked off into the woods one day and never returned ― they would fret, apollo knew, but overtime they would simply reason that he was ‘reclaimed’ by the deities. in truth? he returned to the home he had first woken up to, only to find it empty ― his sire was nowhere to be found.

did he break down into tears? cry out in the dark? hardly; for a newborn vampire, apollo had nerves and determination of steel, and simply ‘set up camp’ for the time being. if he couldn’t live in the city, he would live where he could be free

apollo’s world is about as interesting as it can get after that ― he alternates between staying in woods to returning to hanyang after he’s sure every other generation has died out. the same story of being a ‘newcomer’ is told regardless, and no one ever questions it because they hardly know him. this sort of ‘schedule’ he has allows him to be both separated yet still grow with the times. he admits that the future was not exactly what he expected, and yet all-too exciting for vampire. time passes in the blink of an eye for an immortal, watching as his home of hanyang shifts in the modern city of seoul ― such a sight triggers something within apollo, and he realizes he too must change with the world

new york city is not the first choice on his list; rather, the vampire changes his name and attempts to travel to london as a more ‘immediate’ deviation. however, he is not received well ― altercations involving vampire covens within the city eventually push him out, solace within the european countries not found for long. the united states is next; it’s a melting pot, and exactly what apollo is looking for, yet new york catches his eye above most. deviating from his original plan of los angeles, the vampire is pleased at the anonymity of the city and the opportunities presented with it greatly

a chance encounter with 3 lone vampires including himself results in meeting aleksander and eventually being inducted into his coven. at first, apollo is thrown off by the sudden influx of ‘sociability’ that is expected, yet he soon finds it endearing enough and something he admires, even. he is one of the first to join up as a death dealer when the role is announced ― although his seductive nature and sadism is not attributed to only one species, apollo is all-too eager to sate the never ending lust for war and blood he finds the opportunity of in hunting with his  newfound brothers and sisters. even after the death dealers ‘officially’ disbanded, he still heeds the call of aleksander whenever needed, more than pleased to assist in whatever is required of him.

⤹ ――――― ⤸

～ FACTS

his birth name is not apollo choi, and has been kept a secret and on the backburner since he was turned ― he sees it as his ‘past’ self and a chain to his current identity

after arriving in nyc, he’s since found a love for film (or rather ‘entertainment’ as a whole) and began his own movie studio, that of which skyrocketed in popularity and is now among some of the top ones in the country. he keeps himself separated from the majority of his employees so that he can ‘hand down’ the company to himself ― those necessarily close to him are fellow vampires, who he knows he can trust with his immortality

sometime after he was turned he came to realization that he was bisexual rather than straight. while he is a rather romantic individual and wishes for a lot, he’s scared of dedicated love with the way he is, and keeps his sexuality under wraps for fear of someone possibly using it against him

his overall personality is very sadistic and twisted ― he finds joy in the pain he causes others, depending on who they are, and isn’t one known for mercy among the death dealers

apollo believes in ‘ability’ more than ‘possibility’. it is partially one of the reasons he no longer is religious; he finds the belief in the supernatural on earth and the immortality they possess to be far against any idea of ‘god’ or ‘gods’

he was nicknamed ‘leo’ by aleksander due to his fiery passion and his bravery in what he does. he’s attempted to get tattoos of lions on his body, but finds that they forcibly heal due to his abilities

[crashnbxrn]

The Devil asked me how I knew my way around the halls of hell. I told him I did not need a map for the darkness I know so well.

Kai Parker