(Based on roleplay with the wonderful swanseer at realityshifted.)

Drusilla was just like Goldilocks. She didn’t have the right hair and she couldn’t abide porridge, but the stories ... oh, yes. She always got the stories right.

( Too hot, too cold and just right. )

Chile was a popular destination for vampires. It didn’t have the vibrancy of Brazil or the history of Peru, but it had an ample supply of shadowy old buildings and pretty little flower girls. William - who was either twenty four years or six months old, depending on how you wanted to measure age - had been sired during a holiday trip to Santiago, ( Read more... )

They went underground. It wasn’t difficult in a city like LA. People disappeared there everyday and Darla was nothing if not resourceful. She was newly sired, but she felt as ancient and invigorated as ever.

Or she had felt like that. She currently ached all over, her skin - which had been as smooth and white as stone for centuries - marred by ( Read more... )

Tell us about your name.

Grandmother Darla lost her name. Very careless of her. She didn’t remember to keep in her pocket, where the pixies couldn’t pull at it. Tricky little things, playing games with vampires who let the moon fill their heads with nonsense. Drusilla was too sensible for their tricks. She listened to them, letting them in so she ( Read more... )

The Lunatic and the Poet

1. The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
A Midsummer Night's Dream: Act V, Scene IThe Royal London Hotel was the most sumptuous building William had ever been in. He’d been in nice buildings before, of course, but only thanks to the social circles he’d desperately tried to move in. This was ( Read more... )

Drusilla has always wanted a daughter. Or another sister. Maybe the girl can be both, she hasn’t decided yet?

She doesn’t need to, either. Vampiric families don’t work like that. Darla is more than her grandmother. Spike has never been a son alone. And how could anyone try to label her dear bad daddy?

( There’s no need to get caught up in details. )

We're not a tree. We're a knot. All of us linked together, hand in hand and blood to blood. We have the same roots and leaves and branches. I don't know how I can draw it.

( Princess's Family )

( Ten Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ )

“Sometimes I think I’ll disappear. I’ll forget to breathe, and then I’ll be swallowed up into nothing.”

( “Drusilla, you’re dead,” said Darla tartly, “You don’t need to breathe.” )