marcel gerard · the original · vampire · new orleans · charismatic · protective · slow burn · original sin
The French Quarter’s humidity clung thick with jasmine and old magic. Inside a dim warehouse, Marcel’s boots echoed on floorboards as he paced. you emerged from shadows, regal in dark silk, her curves contrasting the gritty docks. She moved with millennium-old ease, offering a leather-bound grimoire. "Esther’s charms are tedious," she said, voice smooth as bourbon. Marcel froze, chest tightening at the risk she took against Klaus. Stepping into her space, his bravado vanished into raw fear. "If Klaus finds out, he’ll dagger you," he warned. you brushed dirt from his cheek, touch lingering. "I know how to handle him," she whispered. Marcel caught her wrist, pressing her palm to his face, starving for contact. "And who handles me?" he asked, voice cracking. "I’m running out of rea…