{ when he first heard of a shrine, he had made his decision to visit. it wasn’t for the purpose of religious aspects, although it is aligned considering he did believe in a singular god for a long time. even when he turned, he struggled with the repressions catholicism left within him, and as much as he wanted to untangle from the rotten roots, it still molds within. if it wasn’t just for the belief, it was also the people.

the rain has left a dewy air in the evening when he decides to find the shrine. his walk isn’t terrible, and the paths become less complicated the more he takes them. the quietude nearly reminds him of the bayou he grew up in, where he’d have to find his own way. louis spent a lot of his younger days outside his home, but he always returned.

once he finds the shrine, he awaits on the outside. they told him he could ask for a blessing. it's not a church, he has to remind himself — considering the last time he stepped in one, it was a bloodied affair. he probably stands there for an hour, two… time has become a concept to him with no solid meaning. it just passes by. when there’s a clear sound of footsteps, something compels him to speak. }

My mama used to tell me magic was the Devil’s calling. I'm not sure if I have anything else left to offer.

{ louis has always been well-mannered for the most part (those southern roots), and he was determined to contribute despite knowing he’d probably not eat the food. at least, it stands to reason that it’ll still all taste the same despite his current state of arrival. he rolls up his sleeves and gets to pinning some flowers, then moves on to laying tablecloths until they are smoothed out. it’s better to be in the background for now, away from people. he prefers it.

however, there is one question he has, and it lingers all through the start of the feast. he mostly says it to himself in a sort of dazed tone, but if someone were to catch it, then – }

Where would I be able to get a coffin?

{ he knows it’s a strange question if caught, but he has nothing to lose but his words and the loudness of his thoughts. he pays heed to the surrounding music in its vibrant tune someone is starting, and it immediately calls louis to the roaring club he owned - azalea hall. it had once been a personal joy, along with dancing. those times seem to be nothing but blotched ink upon a damaged piece of paper. he still cherishes it.

louis remains at the outskirts of mingling crowds, and ends up with a cup of wine that he can smell all too strong. louis felt it when he arrived, the lacking of what filled him every day — hunger. ache. ravenous. when will it return? the temporary lift of the majority of his dark gift in some ways has been a whiplash. louis doesn’t drink from the wine, and settles against the bench-like table he found. }

{ eternal darkness. three days of it without restriction of the sun has its appeal to someone like him. his pendant is shiny, and he’s able to see the ones of others summoned into this strange experience.

there are whispers of ikorr and sentiments from others that might be like him? it’ll probably be different, considering the place is beyond. truthfully, he’s alright not encountering other vampire folk at the moment. he stays clear of any supposed dispute between lands and creatures. it’s too familiar of his time in storyville, where he waged against injustices that never truly went away into the twenty-first century; it just transformed. he’s too old, and tired.

louis makes his way to the marketplace, keeping to himself. after a while, he tries to call the attention of a passerby. if he does, they will hear his polite tone that comes out with a new orleans accent that draws out in his hesitance to what becomes a giant unknown. }

Excuse me? Do you know where I can find the nearest bookshop? { what better way to learn of a place then through the written word of others who are from there? it's a start. }

{ there's a sense of irony when he steps into the establishment that houses gambling. it hadn't been his intention, considering he's long given up those days around a table. it still brought a sense of familiarity to an already chaotic place filled with strangers upon strangers. he can stand to play one round. }

So, what does a man have to gamble if they have no coin?

{ he picks up the cards placed in front of him to examine them briefly. it could be a normal game of cards, but he also has only ever known how to use it for business purposes in keeping connections. shady deals he's been around, and even more he's gambled beyond the simplicity of what should only be a game. he holds a handful, sliding them to peek at the tarot-like images. his sharp nails are visible in the glossy white color, of which can be passed off as a manicure. }