fuck marry kill

[money]

FUCK, MARRY, KILL

welcome to GAME NIGHT at DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES. the game on the docket? FUCK, MARRY, KILL. the rules are simple: roll the game picker wheel three times or just pick three as you'd like, dropping the names in your header comment — icly we'll say they picked they names out of a hat. people respond, comment around, get into fist fights, kiss a little? thread hop and react as you see fit!
(meme threads can be considered canon!)

Comments

[nishtha]

[ Lots to unpack here. For the moment: ]

That isn't a decision you get to make. Their beginning is also their ending. Let the decades pass by, live for a time in the shadows and the blood, you may come to a different way of thinking.

[ Leaning forward over the table. ] In the meantime, you will not make any new vampires without my permission. Is that clear?

[jukejoint]

( it's such a staunchly different take on immortal life than what remmick poured into mary, who poured it into stack, that he kind of thinks armand is joking for a moment, rolling his eyes in good humor. only when it becomes obvious that he isn't kidding around, do stack's eyebrows pull together, thinking a little bitterly of smoke, of annie, his own would-be fledgling.

denied that. no, stack doesn't like it. )

Or what? ( not exactly a challenge, more testing the boundaries of their relationship. whatever that relationship is. ) What'll you do to me, if I turn everyone in this bitch vamp-side?

[nishtha]

[ Copper glow to his eyes against those chips of ice. He doesn't bother speaking aloud, but into Stack's mind, a reverberation that seems to come from the blood, a pulse in the ears. ]

I'll send you to oblivion. Slowly. One piece at a time. Then, when you come back, I'll do it again, only I'll make it last even longer. You're new here, so nobody will miss you. And I know places in this house where nobody will be able to hear the screams.

[ No lie in Armand's expression, only thoughtful stillness. No need to be overconfident, when he knows he can do it without trying very hard. Without even breaking a sweat.

He leans back in the booth seat. Puts one arm up along the back, dawdling his pointed fingernails over the faux leather. Eyes fixed on Stack. A little shrug. This time, he speaks out loud: ]

Besides. You've been eating people all week. How many new vampires have you made?

[jukejoint]

( it's uncomfortable — not like the remmick hivemind, intimately shared in one moment, knowing and seeing all, understanding it. this, stack thinks, feels more like a violation. his face scrunches, displeased. )

You've a funny way of makin' friends, cousin.

( he does think — is armand his cousin? in this way, they're opposed. if he wouldn't give freedom to the oppressed, isn't it stack's job to do so? (not that he could do it for annie. for smoke. if you can't save the people who matter, why bother saving anyone at all?)

(mary.)

he rolls his shoulders, shrugging armand's telepathy off like a a knot in his neck. )

None. ( nodding at him. ) 'Course I'm a new vamp. Fledg'in. Nah, I haven't been alive for near as long as you, cousin. Maybe you been alive too long, you go forgettin'.

[nishtha]

[ It's true. There's a weight to the years, the centuries. A settling in the bones, a calcification of who you were, who you are, and what you've become. A slipping away of the last vestiges of humanity. The changes around you can become too much. The death and horror building up like mineral deposits, coating your insides. There's a reason why most vampires don't live longer than a few hundred years.

Too long, too long.

He lowers his eyes, looking down at the table for a moment, before he glances up again to meet Stack's gaze. Pupils like lonely stars in a dark sky. ]

Perhaps. Perhaps, but where I come from, that means you're given a little respect.

[jukejoint]

( stack meets his eye, holds it, takes it all in. kind of only realizes what he said was a pretty shitty thing once he sees armand's plaintive expression cast back at him — too long to much entertain the ravings of a youngin'. it's hard, because he's so babyfaced, so shiny and new looking. it's only in the eyes you can tell how old he is, how long the dead and the rot has been there, weighing on his shoulders. stack tries to pretend like he's looking at slim. how would he respond then?

under the table, he stretches a foot out to touch the toe of one shoe against armand's. elders are old for a reason. you listen when they give advice. )

Yeah. I hear you. ( he holds his hands up in a you got me kind of way. ) Ain't turn nobody. Won't turn nobody. Thing is, we different kinds of vampires, you and me. Kind I am, you die with a bite, that's it. Wake up in a minute, bright as a newborn, cryin' for blood. ( armand could finish the thought, but stack does it for him, gesturing, ) Haven't made none, despite the killin'. Means I can't, probably, unless I ain't doing it right.

So. You can tuck it back in your drawers, cousin. I ain't gonna be a problem.

[nishtha]

[ A single bite is all it takes. Vampirism like a virus, like a disease; Armand is horrified. He imagines the world Stack calls home, infested with death, a single vampire able to repopulate entire towns within a few nights. But new with it, and helplessly violent, if Stack himself is anything to go by; too easily caught, once mortals find out, and easily burned out of their nests. Living like vermin, like locusts. Hungry and terrible.

He keeps his dismay off his face and out of his mind, still not sure how much Stack can read from him in these close quarters. Instead, he offers him a thin, humourless smile. ]

Good.

[ He studies Stack for another moment, letting his threat weight the air, not yet withdrawn. What would happen if he started to become a problem.

Then he relaxes, visibly letting go of the tension, sighing out a breath as he glances around. Chatter fills the restaurant, laughter in the din. Suddenly it's too bright, too loud. Clogged with needy, noisy humanity. ]

Are you hungry?

[jukejoint]

( stack is happy to let the tension die — not forget it, exactly, not the threat or the feeling of armand rattling inside his brain, oddly temporal. a good reminder not to be tricked by his fae appearance, a deadly present in beautiful wrapping.

popping up from his seat, he overcompensates for the misstep with loveliness to armand's side, taking the hat off his head (italian) and offering a bow before him, fop-like, courting-like, a charming escort letting his intentions be known. he holds out a hand for armand's. )

After you.