vincentxaaron

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Eirik:

— 🫀 —

Now that was a funny thought; Whether or not Eirik had worthwhile news for this presumably baby vampire seated beside him. Most everyone was but a child in comparison to Eirik, though. At least he had to give some points to the man - he held himself with some dignity. If he were sitting beside his sisters instead of him, would he still be holding himself so proud?

A light hum was his initial response to the remark, his thumb tracking idly through the condensation sweating the outside of his drink. 

“Well, there is always something happening in New Orleans,” Eirik finally settled on, glancing back over at Vincent as his glass was tipped to his lips, swallowing a sip of his drink while he observed the other. “I hear the festival this past weekend was a bit of a disaster. Were you there?” 

“Point taken.” Vincent nodded. Of course he couldn’t argue in the slightest with the statement the fellow vampire had made about the city. News was hardly scarce on any given day and events had only been on the heightened side as of late. He’d been considering making a break for it, out of town entirely, before the time had come and he’d have to fulfill the deal he made long ago with Bastian’s clan, but could he really find anywhere else to stay as update on happenings amongst the various species of the supernatural? He couldn’t count on it. 

At the following mention of the festival, Vincent wouldn’t avoid that conversation either. “I was, right in the middle of the Arcadia clan attempting their newborn mess.” He frustratingly stated. “How about you? Eskilden, right? Heard you all had your own chaos with the wolves.”

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Bessie​:

Bessie didn’t speak right away, reading her friend easily and pulling him into a hug. For her own benefit as much as his. It was comforting, knowing he was a good man at heart, knowing she could have faith in him. Of course, she had accidentally cheated her way into this knowledge. But, Bessie tried to trust that the higher power sending visions her way had connected Vincent to her for a reason.

Stepping back, but holding Vincent lightly by the forearms, Bessie shrugged. “Same as I am every time I’m too late. Why do I even get…” She dropped into frustrated silence. Every time it was too late, she felt this way. It was hubris to question such things, the presumption that she could ever understand. But still it came, so Bessie let it come, and then tried to let it go.

A little huff and she managed a smile. “I believe you, Vincent. You always do what you can. I just hope you take time to look after yourself, too.”

No matter how many times she would circle back to her initial vision about him, he would still defiantly deny it every time. Though Vincent had come to realize that he could easily place his trust in Bessie, and vice versa. In the supernatural world that they were caught up in, that was few and far between to come by in every way shape and form. And something that he actually wouldn’t take for granted. 

The vampire hadn’t realized how much her embrace was needed until practically collapsing into it after the long and grueling night at the festival, utilizing everything he had to hold off the Arcadia clan and their plans. When she stepped back slightly, a brow rose as he studied her expression. “You didn’t see something, did you?” 

“I hope it was enough. — You know you don’t have to worry about me.” He insisted, even if she of course would see right through it as always. 

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Dottie:

date:** **April 24th, 2022

location: French Quarter availability: @vincentxaaron

It was her first time coming to this festival and Dorothy had to admit, it was not like anything else. The music, the colors and the food. The aroma of it alone was enough to draw her in but the sight of it all almost made her dizzy. There was a serious foodie inside of Dottie and that part of herself was not buried deep. She had sampled a few things already, and by sampling, really, it was full size and generous ones. Walking around, there was a smile on her face, feeling so at easy in this city, in that moment. There was enjoyment in her presence at the festival, all thoughts of the story she was chasing gone, at least for the moment. Dorothy was simply here, being herself, feeling almost freer than she ever had before.

Walking by another stand, the scent of it calling to her, there was a playing smile on her lips as she looked at the man next to her. “I really shouldn’t” she said as she looked at the food, trying to decide if she would order more or not. “I think I’ve ate my way through this festival. Do you think this one is worth it? To be the one food that is definitely too much. Or maybe I should wait, there’s another stand over there that looks just as good.”

As if the main city streets in New Orleans couldn’t become more congested during any other days, a festival could always tend to make the crowds all the more worse. Exactly why Vincent much preferred his regular routine of roaming around in the later hours of the night. Though at the same time, the vampire was aware of the kind of information he could potentially gather at these sorts of events when it came to overheard conversations. Especially with the imminent threats he’d become aware of recently from those he was close to in the Crescent coven.

With how much his attendance at these sorts of festivals primarily relied on gathering information for himself, Vincent couldn’t deny there always was something around that sparked his curiosity. Finding himself around the multiple food stalls lining the area, he couldn’t help a closer look while passing each one, his head glancing upwards as another festival-goer began addressing him. “Can’t say I blame you if you have. — The food or the festival being worth it?” Vincent mused. “I mean, I have been to a lot of these and I don’t think you can go wrong with any of the cooking here.” 

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Tomman​:

date: april 17th, 2022  location: somewhere on bourbon st availability: open

They had made their presence known. Howling their own separate warnings like announcements to all those who cared to listen for several nights. Those who destroyed the Onyx pack would know that retribution was coming. The full moon came and went. Tomman chose to be chained to a tree in the bayou, an interesting change of scenery from what he was accustomed to. The next morning he decided to go and see what the hype was about in the quarter. Maybe see if their old friends the Ekildsons were roaming about their supposed kingdom. He wondered if the Gallachs were to take over a city for whatever reason, if the Ekildsons would come running to fight them for it. It all seemed arbitrary. Tomman wasn’t there to take back a city, he was there to help the wolves and avenge those injustices caused against them. Perhaps finding something for himself there as well.

He walked along Bourbon street, a slow stroll, taking in the variety of shops, foods, drinks, and people. A random food vendor, or perhaps it was a pub, had a wide variety of different frozen drinks containing alcohol in spinning machines. Tomman watched the different colors spiral and tried to figure out just what he was looking at. “How do you think a Hurricane tastes? Seems to me it would be a mixture of dirt and salt.” He leaned in and double checked one of the flavors. “Tropical blue flavored dirt and salt, I guess.” The clerk had explained it was one of the things New Orleans was known for and that it came in a giant odd shaped colored plastic cup. A part of him wanted to point out that the city was known for so much more, but knew better. He looked to the other next to him. “I’ll try one if you do.” After all, he was trying to be more adventurous or something.

Having heard the latest when it came to the domain wars, primarily, Vincent found himself amused and once again entirely content with the fact that he remained tie-less to any faction whatsoever. Even as Bastian’s long held proposition still loomed over him, the reason as to why he even still was allowed to live as a vampire. What he did concern himself with were those he did happen to have developed a trusted bond and alliance with, if they remained safe among the ongoing debacles. Vincent took to wandering the city’s famed streets to see if he could run into any of them, to see if any overheard, passing conversations could prove to be interesting or worthwhile. If anywhere in Orleans, Bourbon Street was the place to do so. 

At the same time, it could easily be one of the more easily frustrating areas with the constant flow of people. Vincent curiously glanced around, eyeing what the vendors lining the sidewalks currently had in store. Suddenly halting at one when seemingly being addressed, he quickly recognized Tomman, the werewolf who shared many of the same unconventional views when it came to the centuries old vampire and werewolf wars. “You know, I’d say you guessed it. Tourist trap alcohol.” He simply nodded before a brow raised at the dare. “..What’s got you actually wanting to try blue dirt and salt right now?” 

[vincentxaaron]

To start over? Isn’t that what you do for a living?

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for: @bessieblue​ location: lakeview

Vincent was practically pacing as he awaited Bessie’s arrival at one of their usual, agreed upon meeting spots in the neutral area of Lakeview in the city. There would be a lot to discuss with what had currently been happening, not that they both had a shortage of topics to converse about. He was grateful for the friendship he had built up with the member of the Crescent coven, even if she hardly ever listened to his concerns or warnings when it came to her visions that she would openly tell him about. But the vampire couldn’t knock the track record with them, and as usual, she was right about the threat that would come in the form of the Arcadia clan at the festival and what had transpired. It seemed as if he and Aslan were mainly successful in thwarting the other vampires from creating as many newborns as possible at the festival, however, Vincent had to be certain. After all, saving innocents was hardly something new for him, a nightly routine, in fact that he kept concealed. 

When the vampire finally saw his friend approaching in the distance on the waterfront, he footed forward quicker in Bessie’s direction. She would already knew that he’d have been especially concerned with her own safety. “You were right. About the Arcadia clan threat.” He defiantly nodded before shaking his head. “I did all I could...— How are you?” 

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Eirik​:

Where: A bar somewhere in Uptown NOLA Who: Open !

The constant turf wars between the species was nothing new in Eirik’s eyes, but the mess that had been made of New Orleans? It was exactly that - a mess. A treaty signed to supposedly strike peace through the Quarter, yet it seemed even before the ink had dried the Eskildsen’s had changed the terms. They had left the cobblestones bathed with blood to prove to all that they held the power. And alas, the quarrel to gain the greater hold on the city resumed once again.

Eirik, of course, knew no intimate details. He wasn’t, after all, a true Eskildsen. But he’d found that watching from the shadows was more than entertaining, especially when he could throw his hat in the ring to stir the pot. He was, in essence, a nobody. Who was going to look twice at your average, everyday vampire? It gave him an edge, an ability to listen in with no one the wiser. It was one of the many reasons he’d situated himself in the middle of the bar, sipping an old fashioned, in the heart of the Crescent coven’s domain. It seemed like the perfect place to hear the witches unknowingly air some dirty laundry. 

When someone eventually slid into the seat beside him, placing an order of their own, Eirik steeled himself before leaning over in their direction. “So tell me,” he drawled, “ are you the type to just drink in silence or strike up a conversation with a neighbor?” c

Vincent had purposely found himself wandering into the uptown area of New Orleans, particularly controlled by the Crescent Coven. Though who owned what perimeters was hardly something that he concerned himself with when making his rounds among the city, one of the many perks he considered being a vampire that chose to remain clan-less. That matter was intended to not change. There would be a lot to discuss with those he had become close with in the coven, especially concerning what had been unfolding in recent events as of late, yet passing one of the many establishments that contained signature alcohol drinks pertaining to the Big Easy, the vampire made the decision to head inside for the time being. Additionally, overhearing certain conversations could prove easier in the city’s bars with those were already past drunk. Comical, to say the least. 

After reaching the counter to take a seat and getting a hold of the bartender, Vincent swore to himself that he may have recognized the other beside him. An Eksilden, perhaps? After all, he worked in their area of the city on a regular basis. Not that any of them would likely take notice of a lone one of their kind. “Preferably the former.” He shrugged. “Though..I guess it depends if what you have to say is actually some worthwhile news..” 

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Bruises on both my knees for you Don’t say thank you or please, I do What I want when I’m wanting to My soul? So cynical.

VINCENT AARON

AGE:34 ( 227 ) SPECIES:Vampire AFFILIATION:Clanless PRONOUNS: he/him GENDER: cis man

You were a tortured soul even before you were turned and you’ve been nothing but cynical since your transformation. Desperate to help those in need, you refuse the salvation of your good actions. There are whispers about you, some good samaritan prowling the night, often saving the innocents and the last thing you want is for anyone to know you’re the one behind any of it.

NEW ORLEANS

You’ll never know peace and rest, you’re certain of that and you don’t think you deserve it for being the monster you are. What seemed like a gift at first, surviving an illness, now feels like your damnation. You were delirious when you agreed to be turned and maybe you thought your soul didn’t matter, shouldn’t have been saved. But you’ve felt everything with more intensity, sending you into madness at first. You want to be worthy, you want to be whole but you won’t accept any form of gratitude towards your actions.

BIOGRAPHY

TW DEATH, ILLNESS, MURDER

His life has been nothing short of tragedy, to a point where Vincent is accustomed to it, expects it. He’s managed on his own, and after the sudden death of his parents as a result of smallpox at eighteen years old, there had been no choice but to do so. With a particularly clever mind, Vincent somehow ended up getting by with his self-reliant ways, working a multitude of odd jobs around the city, as the city exponentially grew over the substantial amount of time that had passed, as more and more compelling stories and mysteries were passed down, shrouded over it. At the same time, he often questioned as to what exactly did keep him going, always unsure of the answer, and figured that would always be the case, life had been indifferent for him in the grand scheme after all. It was what it was, or so he’d long thought.

In the same year Vincent had ended up turning thirty-three, he believed he’d certainly meet a similar, unfortunate fate that his parents had. After coming down with yellow fever, it seemed as if this was where he received his answer, this was where it all would end for him. As if life had been anything worthwhile. Yet, something seemingly changed all in an instant when he’d witnessed something particularly eye-opening in the ward section Vincent was certain he would shortly meet death in, to be tossed away as nothing, no one worthwhile, amounting to nothing. A figure moved around the area, and his eyes were drawn towards it, fascinated by the sheer amount of power the shadow apparently exuded while surveying the room of sickly patients. Maybe he’d already passed on? Though his shallow, baited breath debunked that theory quickly, it wasn’t long until the footsteps drew closer and closer to his side, the world around him falling entirely dark.

Awaking in entirely different surroundings unbeknownst to him, Vincent found himself alive. Sure enough, finding another before him in a similar manner that he’d witnessed the previous night confined to a hospital wing, explaining everything. He wasn’t technically alive, but transformed, reborn. Of course all of the rumors and mysteries he’d always believed in turned out to be true. Bastian introduced himself, re-telling his account of how Vincent’s heart had been stopped, he now was a vampire and had been chosen from the rows of ill patients. For the first time, he’d felt as if life meant something, as if he’d been worthy of something for once. The elder supernatural being continued to recount how Vincent had begged to be turned and the process subsequently had begun.

Following his turning, he continued learning the ways of living as a vampire, how to operate as part of a clan. Yet, the more involved, the more Vincent learned, the more he’d become uncertain about the consistent murdering of often innocent beings, the stark horrors of it all. He couldn’t entirely go through with it. After all, how did his soul even deserve to be saved? This wasn’t what he’d envisioned as being someone that mattered, not wanting any part of the sordid lifestyles, something he’d openly expressed to Bastian. After a consult, he and other elder vampires agreed to let him continue to live, on one condition. A condition, a favor, that Vincent agreed to, even if he’d been certain that once again, his supernatural life would end right then and there. Turning away from the ways of a vampire clan, Vincent set out on his own, clanless, questioning everything about the decision he made.

Life after death remains uneasy, more so than Vincent had been as a human being. He’s come to accept that, and besides, what monster like him knows any semblance of peace anyway? Being grateful for surviving a deadly illness hardly seems possible in the slightest anymore, for he’s essentially stuck for an eternity, cynicism always getting the better of him when any related notion crosses his mind. At the same time, the madness that ensued as a result of the rush of intensity from being turned became a new, strange sense of motivation that kept him from giving up.

The extreme, intense inklings had steered him in a new direction, a new routine that Vincent still continues at present, ensuring to keep his actions as an unknown Good Samaritan confidential. As a way to compensate for having some form of worth, he comes to the aid of, fiercely protecting any innocent in the late hours of the night, always on the look-out for those that would be in need. He’s heard what has been spread about his good deeds, and as much as he doesn’t comment on any of them to anyone, he also doesn’t accept any gratitude from the number of those he has saved and continues to save. A tortured soul who unknowingly still does good for others.

In the many ages that have passed, Vincent has made a new life for himself in the eternity he’s been dealt. Aside from everything, he attempts to be as content as possible, living comfortably in the neutral space of the Warehouse District, away from all the unnecessary annoyances of drama between the various supernatural factions. Though with a vampire clan running the Mid-City area of New Orleans, Vincent had also found himself a job as an accountant at a local bank, all the while having to adapt to the amount of cards he’d been dealt. Not to mention that there is always the agreed upon favor for Bastian that relentlessly remains looming over him, keeping him in the city. For some reason, that particular reckoning seems on the brink, closer than ever before, and Vincent can’t help but consider that making a run for it once and for all would ultimately be in his best interest.

CONNECTIONS

Bastian Fuentes - They’re the one who turned you and you even begged them to. There was a price attached to it, unspoken, for you to be aware of it only once you were reborn. You never wanted to be part of any of it, seeing the horrors of their ways. They let you live at one condition, a favor to be asked when it would suit them. You’re afraid that time has come and can’t help but wonder if you should run far from them.

Cassian Li - You know their past and you’ve never judged them, the temptation being too familiar for you. There is trust between the two of you and you’ve become their confidente over the years. The burden you carry feels less heavy when shared with them. You’ve noticed how they’ve started to change, moments when you don’t recognize them and you know something has to be done.

Bessie Litman - They’ve stopped you on the streets once, a vision about you shared, something that could give you hope. They saw who you were, or so they told you, the deepest corners of your soul and all they claimed to see was light. You want to believe them, cling to their faith in you even if you doubt their words. Their friendship is a great comfort to you but you see how things are changing in the city and you fear for them.

VINCENT AARON is portrayed by OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN and is currently UNAVAILABLE.

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Emily Berry, from Ghosts (Homage to Burial).

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monsters do not yearn for the night, they ache for a light they can no longer reach, for the sun abandoned them long ago, leaving behind a moon that offers no warmth, and so they wander and mourn under a moonlit sky, hoping for a dawn that will never rise.

perhaps the sun was always a lie, and the moon the truth // k.s. (via worthystevie)

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tags post.