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[center][color=C60000][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Black Spire - Noah’s apartment • [color=C60000][b]Time:[/b][/color] Dusk[/center]
[center][color=C60000][b]Interactions:[/b][/color] Wren[@Tpartywithzombi] • [color=C60000][b]Mentions:[/b][/color] Locke [/center][/color]
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[color=C60000]“Breakfast.”[/color] Noah repeated the word with false gratitude. He really wished she wouldn't. Not a thing on that tray looked the least bit appealing. 

[color=C60000]“I love it.”[/color] He did not. Maybe the Fae liked eating hearts and tongues, but vampires? No. And cold blood? Foul, as bad as those stale bags of blood the weaker of his kind fed on rather than catching something fresh. 

Noah didn’t allow any of that to show, not a trace of his displeasure etched its way onto his face or into his tone. He refocused his attention, not on the breakfast itself but the mutilated body it rested on top of. The wounds that spoke of a long, drawn out death. Dead eyes that stared off into a place far away, devoid of hope and forever locked in despair. He looked at the corpse and saw it only as Wren’s masterpiece; the work of art she had carved just for him. 

[color=purple]“It’s gone cold now,”[/color] [i]Warm would not have made the tongue and heart anymore appealing.[/i]

[color=C60000]“I’ll eat it anyway.”[/color] He promised. It may not be his ideal breakfast but it did add to the fear. When creatures whispered rumors about Noah Corvane, his fangs tearing into human hearts that were served up to him by a Fae both hauntingly beautiful and terrifyingly mad; it painted an image.

Like how Blackbeard would light fuses in his beard. Crazy shit freaked people the fuck out. There was wisdom tucked away in Wren’s brand of crazy. 

Wren ventured beyond madness, a point where things began to make sense again but in ways most people couldn't understand. Sometimes Noah didn't understand it, but he always went with it until it eventually made sense to him too. 

[color=purple]“I thought of you while I carved him up,”[/color]

His eyes followed her hand as she reached up to smear blood across his face. He could hear it, the steady rhythm of her pulse, just as easily as he could see the veins through flesh pale as a ghost. It was so close. That warm rush of blood that pumped through her veins and lingered so damn close to his teeth. 

[color=purple]“Every slice.”[/color] Her hand fell away from him and it took its warmth with it. 

[color=C60000]“I sliced out a tongue tonight too. After I learned all its secrets.”[/color] He whispered, reaching for the hand that had just been dangerously close to his mouth. His fingers wrapped around her wrist just tight enough to feel her pulse. 

[color=C60000]“How delightfully simpatico we are.”[/color] His laugh held a wicked edge and his fingers moved from her wrist, up her arm, and rested softly against her neck. 

[color=purple]““I wanted it to be perfect…” ”[/color]

[color=C60000]“You're the only perfect thing in this world, little bird.”[/color] He whispered words into her ear as his hand moved her hair away from her neck. Then he kissed his way down her neck, fangs gently scratching at her skin but without the force of a bite. The rhythm of her pulse made his hunger scream for satisfaction, and Noah only lingered in the sublime torment of that denial. 

He meant those words. How could he not? Wren was like his reflection, something he'd created. Marks left deeper than skin, his shadow embedded in her psyche. His only living work of art. 

And her shadow twisted around him. What he felt for Wren was dug in deeper than love. Held on tighter than obsession. 

[i]Addiction.[/i]

It snuck into dreams, carved its way into the soul, and squatted in blood and bone for the rest of your days. A craving that could torture a person for lifetimes. 

Love wished it had that kind of staying power.

Noah would do anything Wren asked. Anything to ensure she felt the same addiction he felt. He would eat two cold lumps of muscle that squelched with the soured blood of the dead. He would wash it down with a teacup of that same soured blood. Noah would pretend it was the most delightful meal he'd ever had. 

Anything to ensure he'd never be without her.

[color=C60000]“Now be a good pet and get cleaned up, we’re meeting Locke at The Pink Room tonight.”[/color][/color]