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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓﹙ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ﹚࿐ ࿔ ✧˖*°▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓
﹙ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ﹚
࿐ ࿔ ✧˖*°
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Rory thinks she can grow to love New Orleans just because there's music everywhere she goes. As soon as she steps out of her apartment complex, her ears fill with jazzy tunes played by talented musicians. There's laughter and cheerfulness and everyone seems happy. It's an incredible step up from where she used to stay. She remembers what she used to think every time she woke up out of a sleep and started her day. This town will kill me one day. And it did. Mystic Falls killed her and everybody she loved, and now she finally has the chance to escape.

Dean is still in a deep sleep despite it being 11am, the man having spent his time unpacking the rest of the boxes that Rory and Sam were too lazy to do. Because of that, only the younger of the two Wessons was accompanying her to the record shop down the street. Dean and Sam had a thing for vinyl, simply because Sam bought a record player off Amazon a few months ago and he refused to let it go ever since. Dean was just an old soul.

"There's a guy that used to stay here. Apparently, he was in charge of the vampire community," Sam mutters as he walks alongside Rory, the shorter of the two sipping on an iced coffee in her hand. "Marcel Gerard. I asked around yesterday, but no one's been giving me anything besides a few sus side-eyes. It's either he's dead, or I might have been wrong about the vampires here."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to be found?" Rory inquires as she enters the record shop, Sam following behind her. "Maybe he's just in hiding. If he really is a vampire, then I don't think he'd want it to be public knowledge. This isn't Mystic Falls, Sam—I'm pretty sure the vampires want to keep it lowkey that they're vampires."

"But I don't get it. The people I talked to spoke about him like he was their saviour or something. Like a king," Sam argues as he trails behind Rory. "I don't think that kings can just disappear like that."

"Well, we're not in the 18th century anymore, sweet cheeks. And you know how I feel about the monarchy," Rory rolls her eyes as she stops in front of a David Bowie vinyl. "You're right—kings can't just disappear, but they should. How many records are our limit again?"

"Three. You overbought the last time and we're barely putting up the shelves as is," Sam responds. He looks disappointed as he regards the albums in front of him, barely paying attention to the people that have just entered the store. "The only reason I suggested New Orleans is because of Marcel. If he's really not here, then maybe—"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear," an unfamiliar voice speaks up from beside them. Rory and Sam both turn to the male that stands before them, and his nametag reads Joe. "You two are looking for Marcel Gerard?"

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