@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + you, I ain’t who you think I am. I just need to see Marcel. So, if one of y’all got him on speed dial, that’d be /greatly/ appreciated.

••• Sins Do Not Define •••

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + shit.../

{My shoulders slump. Even though I don’t recognize /any/ of them, clearly /my face/ is still recognizable.}

Don’t... {I shake my head, not even knowing where I’m going with it.} You don’t need to act like there’s recognition here, ‘cause I can promise +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + entirely. Raising my hands in defense, ‘cause that’s all I got.}

I ain’t here to cause problems. I’m just looking for Marcel.

/The fuck you are./ {An unseen hand tugs the hood back from my face. I don’t /see/ who it is, but I hear the voice. Unfamiliar.} /Holy +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + I /don’t/ know, with three more already crowding in. Markedly vampires, and very telling of being /his/ guys.}

/Who the fuck are you and what makes you think you can waltz in here like you fuckin’ own the place?/

{Really, I don’t have a response to that. Not +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + something familiar, even if the streets aren’t. The one place I /won’t/ jump on the first human in sight. At least I hope.

Walking into the lower level of the Compound, it takes point-two seconds before I’m hemmed up against a column and staring into veiny eyes +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + Because hunger is one thing when you’re /not/ a danger to literally everyone within three feet of you. Now I just feel like a ticking time bomb walking through the Quarter like a chicken with its head cut off.

━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━

Finally though. /Finally/ I reach +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + surrounded by the pulsing sound of fresh, plump human hearts pumping away? I’m not all that sure I wouldn’t pounce on the first person that’d notice me enough to get too close. Bad enough as it /is/ walking the streets at all, she was fucking right about that. +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + your very marrow. I know who I’m looking /for/, I just didn’t exactly know where to /find/ him. Somehow, being sequestered does that. Not that I’m complaining, but having a better idea of where the hell I’m going would be nice.

My first thought was a bar, but being +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + “It wasn’t /me/” my way out of. So, a too big hoodie becomes my “I’m aware that I’m very obviously hiding, but you can’t possibly know who the hell I am” gimmick.

And yet, there’s something about New Orleans that refuses to let you /forget/. She lives in your bones, +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + self. I was as close to a beast as a vampire could get. I won’t be so foolish to say I’m “my best self” /now/. But, I understand that I’ve done things. Or rather, /my face/ is remembered for doing things that /should/ have had worse consequences. Things that I can’t +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + back” as.

So imagine my shock of surprise when I woke up to find her not only gone, but a /very/ intricate spell she put up to, well... Keep me from being /me/, dismantled.

━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━

The last time I walked the streets of the French Quarter, I was /not/ my best +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + that have bubbled up from the dark, unkempt corners of my mind.

I wouldn’t /exactly/ say she took me under her wing. No. But, in the gentlest way of putting it, she spent a little over a year un-making me. Not as a vampire, no. But as... whatever the hell I “came +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + very fabric of your life to a /very/ powerful witch who hates every fiber of your being.

These are just a few chosen memories that have resurfaced in the chaos that is my... I suppose I’d like to call it my “resurrection”. Don’t get me wrong, there are other things +

@truekingmarcel.bsky.social + remnants of yourself scattered around.

There’s a “version” of you taunting you, torturing you, in all manner of speaking. Breaking you down bit by bit, piece by piece. Tearing down everything you /thought/ you knew.

Some time after that? You’re trusting the +