up all night

[immortalized]

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[immortalized]

{ it's here in the kitchen that Ambrose realizes a fatal (not really) mistake — he doesn't own a corkscrew. why would he, now? he stares across his unsettlingly bare kitchenette dumbfounded at the scenario he has just awoken to, caught and betrayed by lady fortune and the pattern she has chosen to weave for him. is the cosmos so aligned against him? Ambrose reels in silence just out of full view of Seunwoo, who, when he checks, seemed preoccupied with the details of his living space.

a life spent undead and drinking blood from the living...at least has its benefits. coming in clutch is a strange and revolutionary thought, and it has Ambrose peeling the foil away from the top of the bottle before...grasping into the cork stopper with his bare fingertips, cleanly manicured nails clasping into the porous piece and ripping the pressure-suspended stopper like some uncultured, raised-by-wolves oddity. Ambrose...wasn't entirely sure it would work, until it shockingly did, and with that, he narrowly avoids a questionable challenge liable to disrupt the momentum of having Seunwoo here, blissfully spared of any off-beat moments.

not that he is entirely saved from any more hurdles in his pantomime performance tonight, knowing his own luck, or lack thereof. the true betrayal is having spent the majority of his own adult life taking the roles of things he is anything but — and not a single day of convincing acting can favor his odds here, tonight.

but Ambrose can smile at Seunwoo when he returns with the glasses, and that smile can at least carry the merits of being genuine, because that is the very reason why this farce is challenging at all: Ambrose likes Seunwoo, and with that fact, he can't bear to tarnish the image that Seunwoo holds of him.

he sits beside him, taking his own glass to rest the stem against his upper lip, demure and thoughtful in this image. the glass does not fog with his breath, not even when Ambrose makes an effort to appear idly respirating now. he knows being too-still is enough for any living human to sense something uncanny about him.

as Seunwoo prompts, Ambrose tests the wine with a sip — the scent and the taste are all alarmingly amplified in his senses, but none of it is enough to overwhelm. once off of his palette and down his throat, however, the sensation disappears, liquid turning to ash down in his chest. harmless in small amounts, but he had been warned by his sire one, 'too much indulgence in what does not sustain us, will ultimately backfire upon us.' he wonders which difficult fact makes the wine taste more bitter to him.

but Seunwoo is vividly sweet in every sense he possesses, and Ambrose is keen to take him in — equally a benefit as much as a trap, perhaps, but this vampire is still brave enough, or stupid enough, to keep going. } Familiar with? Oh dear, I'm afraid I'm a rather open and regretfully dull book to read.

Art, and its history... I portray, I perform, I live on stage, I convey spectacular lives born out of the genius of others. I am sustained by the sublime and attempt to entertain others with the happiness it gives me.

The only boisterous music I am familiar with is a pit orchestra at an opera. { these things feel like the bourgeois luxuries of the old and the rich, but not even Ambrose has the awareness or ability to loom with an aristocratic air, even if his dwelling can; he seems to glow with something inspired, a fondness too genuine to mistake for some clamor for a status symbol. even in his time, he looked to the ancients, gods of Greece and Rome with their too-fantastic dramas interwoven into the very nature of the earth. } Recently, I've been inspired by design, of garments and of the self. Fashion and beauty are such intimidating realms, but I can't help but be pulled in by what I see. { says an actor that suffers through complicated costumes and spends most of his time off the stage wearing...as little as he can get away with, in truth. at least he's earning some reconciliation there. }