fitzforwar-blog

[fitzforwar-blog]

meg-roberts:

“Just go! Keep running and find some cover. Close all the cracks you can find so it doesn’t seep in,” Meg ordered through gritted teeth at a couple of the newer wolves, who had stopped running to give her a concerned look when she had stopped. She needed a moment, the wolfsbane she had already inhaled burning through her lungs and the burns on her skin only adding to the pain. Meg watched as they briefly glanced at each other and then continued running for cover, leaving her behind like she’d told them to.

Triston had been running for what felt like hours in his gear, finding and helping whoever he could. He stopped in his tracks though at the sight of several people running from somewhere talking about how they left someone behind. Triston moved towards the direction they were running from and the moment a familiar face came into view he rushed to her. “Meg! What the hell are you doing kid, come on. Can’t just quit on me.” Then he got a closer look, a werewolf being affected by wolfsbane. “We gotta get you inside. Trust me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead hoisting the smaller woman into his arms as he took off trying to put as much distance between them and the cloud as possible, He managed to get them to a building where the cloud seemed to thin out. Hopefully somewhere he could set her down and make sure she was alright. He sealed the door behind them with his roll of duct tape before turning to her and pulling off his mask. “You kids and your damned parties will be the death of me, Meg.” He teased. 

[fitzforwar-blog]

Redemption Call

Triston had a plan for every circumstance. This one though he had a personal experience with; during his time in the wars the axis troops had figured out what he was. They too had once used vervain as a weapon against his unit, which is why when Triston pulled out his old trunk full of war memorabilia an assortment of gas masks and chemical re-breathers were not out of place. He began his preparation, which including wearing long sleeves, a kevlar vest, a thick jacket, jeans and then sweatpants over those. For extra security Triston took a roll of duct tape and sealed off the ends of his sleeves and pant legs. He had a few run ins with vervain that taught him not to take any chances and more run ins with humans like these. Finally he slid a gas mask over his features and a black beanie over his head. Triston looked almost as if he was set to launch the world into anarchy, but his mission now was much different. There were a few people at that party that he had to be sure we’re alright. People he would feel responsible for if... 

Cant think like that T, keep focused; get there and make sure they are alright. His thoughts helped lock him onto the task at hand. He stepped out of his apartment and stretched his muscles. To his bewilderment the cloud from the block appeared to only be spreading instead of dissipating. “No time to waste then.” With that the vampire took off, heels left the pavement only to see the vampire’s speed remarkably result in a visual blur as he rushed for the block. It seemed with every step closer he drew that the casualties would increase and not just on the supernatural side. Loaded fireworks often resulted in ignited ash falling from the containers. People everywhere were panicking and fleeing from the cloud, Triston however charged head in with one thing on his mind; The people he came to help. Upon seeing anyone being affected by the cloud he would grab hold of them and force a mask on their face. However the few masks he had brought with him were quickly running out, he improvised; putting the masks on people and carrying them to a building. “AC off, cover the cracks, Hunker down and wait for EMS. I have to go.” This process repeated over and over until he had no more masks, but his own; however he still hadn’t found one last person he was looking for. He figured they were here, but couldn’t be sure. He sprinted around the surrounding blocks several times until his eyes caught sight of someone, moving to their side he could see they weren’t doing well. Triston did the only thing he could think of; he inhaled as deep as he could before removing his mask, now holding his breath as he forced it over the other’s face. He quickly scanned the nearby buildings for somewhere decent to put this one. A liquor store, hermetically sealed automatic doors. He could feel the skin on his face begin to burn, definitely vervain; this was going to get serious if he didn’t move quick. Don’t breathe T, Don’t breathe.

He lifted the other up into his arms before taking off towards the direction of the liquor store. When he tried to sprint though the speed flat out was not there. The result of the vervain exposure and exhaustion from running at full speed trying to help whoever he could. They finally breached through the door and Triston nearly dropped the other to slam the door closed and begin sealing it with his roll of duct tape. By the time he had finished sealing the doors he finally exhaled, an exasperated breathing followed immediately by him moving to make sure the vents to the building were closed. It would be obvious that this was not the man’s first time countering vervain. He handled it almost expertly, minus the occasional wince of pain from the damage it managed to cause him from his time without the mask. He looked to the person he had carried inside. “Should fair better in here, kid. Take a sec to catch your breath, slow breaths, controlled and deep. Then maybe you can tell me what the fuck is going on?”

[fitzforwar-blog]

camwestfall:

    “and exactly who are you preaching to and what about?” cameron asked, leaning against the open doorway into the church. “because you’re giving off cult leader vibes here.” she crossed her arms and eyed the man, unsure of what to make of him.

“Not a whom, a what; Church to me had always been a place that symbolized salvation. That light at the end of the tunnel to keep hoping for. Funny how your views change when you’ve been around long enough to have lived six lives.” He gave a light chuckle when she mentioned him sounding like a cult leader. “Nothing like that. Just a guy searching for salvation in the wrong places I guess.”

Salvation [OPEN]

[fitzforwar-blog]

kadenkingsman:

“Who gives a shit what they’re doing? Just sit here and drink with me. I have an extra beer, and we can judge from afar.”

“Alright alright, you sold me with the beer. I’m keeping my eye on that though, just in case things take a turn for the worse.” His eyes surveyed the scene they were watching. A couple of kids being rambunctious and causing mischief is all it seemed to be right now. Some harmless rough housing in the streets, Probably some low rate gangsters trying to prove how tough they are to each other. Triston however saw every situation as if it escalated already, that’s why he was so good at his job. He often addressed problems before they ever had time to come to fruition.

[fitzforwar-blog]

meg-roberts:

“Yes! I knew the puppy dog pout would work.”

“Only because you look so sad and pathetic that I feel I have to help you.” He forked over the last remaining bits of his cinnamon roll over to the girl. 

[fitzforwar-blog]

kmdavidson:

Port-a-potties that way, not in the bar.

He held up a hand to stop the man, “Apologies, I thought this was the Port-a-potty. Sure as hell smells like it. Hopefully your whiskey is nicer than your bar. You’re the barkeep right? What’s the strongest you’ve got?”

[fitzforwar-blog]

Fighting In Silence

It’s not wise to go against the weather, just to get caught out in the rain. The life motto that raised Triston to be the age he was. He sat in his usual spot at the bar and examined the other patrons of the bar, a harmless hobby the man had formed over years of growing bored with himself.  He found a curious intrigue in one lone figure especially. It may have seemed hypocritical of him to think, but he couldn’t help to feel that one doesn’t just go to the bar alone unless they are dealing with something internally. There was always a motivator that brought the lone wolves out of their isolation. His mind danced around several ideas; Perhaps the individual in question had just murdered someone and was attempting to escape their overwhelming guilt or perhaps a family member passed and they found their way here out of desperation and confusion. Triston was fascinated with thoughts like these. He liked to get inside of people’s heads, to try and walk their life instead of his own for even a few brief moments. Of course on the outside it may have looked more like he was giving the individual a death stare. A look that said ‘I’d tear you apart just to figure out what makes you tick’. 

It had admittedly become much easier for him to control his violent outbursts. Something he struggled with even before he was granted immortality and inhuman powers. His ferocity and bloodlust never truly left though, it lay somewhere in the background fighting in silence for the time when it would break free. Triston had made a name for himself throughout history and his reputation is ultimately what got him his job at The Merlot. Mathieu no doubt had heard of Triston’s fits of rage throughout history. Normandy was the last time it had gotten out of his control. Seventeen hundred and sixty one men he slaughtered that day. On both sides of the battlefield, The official stories would be lies or dismissed as incoherent nonsense. Who in their right mind would believe that a man could do something so heinous with only his two hands?

The rumors however were one hundred percent true. Triston had lost himself in the war; he had allowed himself to become a weapon for the allies. The U.S’ secret weapon during World War I and II. Naturally though the vampire grew tired of this lifestyle and disappeared shortly after World War II. Only to pop up in New York years later looking for a new life and a new page to his never ending story. Now here he sat, a demon behind a soft smile and sorrowful eyes; Fighting battles of the mind instead of rending through his foes with his own hands. He had almost become lost in his reminiscing until the single figure that caught his eye again; ordering another round of drinks for themselves. Triston shrugged and made his way over to them while looking to the barkeep, “This round’s on me.” His head turned towards the other as he sat down and continued, “Don’t mind me paying? Who says no to free drinks right? Oh and Boss, give me the worst thing you’ve got. The most foul, potent liquor you have will do just fine. I’ve got to drown some demons.”

[fitzforwar-blog]

Salvation [OPEN]

“You see, that’s the thing about salvation; it’s only for the holy. You and me? We’re something else, kid.” The age old vampire standing in the center of a church speaking about salvation seemed nothing short of the most perverse irony.

[fitzforwar-blog]

sarahrobinparker:

Sarah laughed, “No, no I wouldn’t.” she fiddled with her unlit cigarette while he spoke. Normally she wouldn’t fuck with old vampires. Self preservation was the name of the game these days but lately she didn’t feel much like caring. Flirting with danger was exciting, more of a buzz than anything else these days. She couldn’t help but smile, “Scooby? Is that what the kids are calling wolves these days?” She shook her head, she couldn’t imagine being immortal. God, what an awful sentence that’d be. She could see why some would like it and the power certainly enticing but to be on this planet for five hundred and seventy nine years…Christ, She thought. 

“So you’re senile is what i’m hearing, correct?” She smirked and held out the cigarette she had been playing with, “You gotta a light? I’ll trade ya.”

At this point Triston had made it a game of sorts to analyze her reactions; patiently scanning her features as they spoke and he began to notice that the woman lived in the moment. Almost as if she did not care to hide or mask her emotions, but instead had chosen to accept them and embrace them as a part of who she was. That spark of life that existed inside of beings so young that they still clung to their hope desperately. They chose to ignore the road ahead and behind and just charged on through life head first. He was quite envious, he had lost that spark much much earlier in his life. Now his days blurred into a haze of grey detail-less chores. 

“Senile, that’s new... Perhaps?” He shrugged it off as a realistic possibility. “Though I like to think I just choose to live a little more dangerously because of it. Some call it senile; I call it adventurous. Isn’t that the real difference between a dog and a wolf? Wolves run in the wild while dogs sit on leashes.” He reached to scratch his elbow; in reality this was just an excuse for him to slightly flex his muscles. The resulting pose was something that conveyed a slight insecurity behind a wall of imposing or equally impressive muscle. Triston took pride in his age, it meant he had lived to see the world change as much as it had. That might be why he still had some shred of faith in this all working out. He allowed himself to attend the idea of a peace not just among supernaturals, but a peace with the humans as well. Such a strange optimistic thought he mused to himself. 

Triston and Open

[fitzforwar-blog]

All I want to know is how it feels to lay in your arms and feel loved

(via somewhatsomelikepoetry)

Relevant to character

[fitzforwar-blog]

sarahrobinparker:

Sarah laughed a bit, eradicating the human race was a bit ambitious. She really didn’t mind most of them, after all she was one only 6 years ago. However, the latest media frenzy had caused quite the inconvenience. It was fun for a little while. She owed her modeling career to it. Her cigarette had almost burned out on it’s own, she crushed the remaining bud up against the wall before tossing it to the ground and pulling out another. Smoking was a bad habit she had picked up after the fight. Helped her sleep at night. 

“Humans are feisty arn’t they?” She chuckled, “Still, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess if they’d just accept what’s out there.” Sarah breathed deeply taking in his scent. She crinkled her nose, sticky sweet with a hint of iron. “How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He took note of how she inhaled him, collecting his scent deep within his nostrils. A werewolf habit for sure, that’s when the woman started looking familiar. A model or something like that he’d seen once or twice. Someone who everyone already knew was a supernatural, Triston however had nobody on his trail except for the pesky werewolves in this town. Perhaps he should talk to Oliver about something to throw off those noses of theirs. What fun was it if they already knew he had killed plenty of their kind before. It took all the fun out of guessing what your place was on the food chain. “Would you believe me if I said Thirty Eight?” He made a strange motion with his hand as if to motion that she did not need to answer, “Though I doubt that’d fool your sniffer huh Scooby?” He pressed a finger to his lips to indicate she should keep it a secret, “Five hundred and seventy nine. I’m not even American, Was nearly 200 hundred by the time it became it’s own country.” He said it almost too lightheartedly, with intention; anyone passing by would have assumed he had made a light hearted joke. The woman across would know otherwise. He assumed that if he told her she would have that much more reason not to cause problems for him. If she knew anything of his kind she would know that they only got stronger with age. Triston was a born warrior and and tested survivor. He was always covering himself, even in a social situation with a good looking, well known woman. Especially in those times even.

Triston and Open

[fitzforwar-blog]

On Broken Glass||Triston&Brook

Triston wasn’t used to letting people get within arms reach let alone become a part of his day to day schedule. Despite that though he had found himself running along the same path as another; A woman who seemed to hide her secrets behind her smiles and her ferocity behind her eyes. Triston had first come across Brooklyn while exploring new running trails. He had a very specific set of needs for his cardio workouts, but his running generally was done on urban trails that he scouted himself. This was the first time he had ever come across someone on one of his runs, when his body was working and burning through any blood he had consumed before; resulting in a slightly hungry vampire pushing himself harder than usual. To his amusement however the brunette seemed to keep her cool even when they had began running side by side. It had become an unconscious habit that formed for the both of them that spanned throughout his later times in New York. They had never engaged in any deep conversations, so much so that neither of them truly learned the other’s name until much later. It wasn’t that they had bonded or anything, but more so they developed a mutual trust of each other just by being around one another daily. That felt like yesterday, the months felt like minutes to him now. 

Shaking his head clear of his thoughts just in time as the sound of a door creaking open resounded through the abandoned gym Triston kept running as a personal place to get back. Only one other person knew where it was and that he’d even be there to begin with. His running partner. “Look Brook, I just wasn’t feeling the run today. Had a little bit more to vent off today than usual. Needed to let loose a bit ya know?” Oddly enough Triston was nervously wrapping his hands as he spoke. As if trying to mask the visible damage on his knuckles, the product no doubt of hours upon hours of punching the multiple bags that lie scattered around the gym floor without rest. A pound for pound reminder of every memory he beat into those bags. The one way he knew to clear his mind when it began to scream at him about his past.

“I hope this isn’t some fantasy attempt to get me back in the world is it? Come to give me the pep talk again? I’m doing alright now, I just got a little heated earlier. You uh... You wanna give it a go?” He raised a brow towards her inquisitively, possibly offering her a friendly challenge. To try and sweeten the deal he through out one last thing as a bonus, “Tell you what, you give the bags a few blows and I’ll tell you how old I am. You’ve been curious right?” It wasn’t until the words left his mouth that he realized that he had just unwittingly walked onto broken glass. It was too late to back out now though as he wouldn’t let her see him step back from his word. It did however keep him from adding to the deal further.

[fitzforwar-blog]

“Well let’s see. Your options are Strange Brew; a place full of bearded men with fleas and then you have The Merlot; the classiest winery you’ve ever seen. So long as you’re blind and don’t go to any other wineries in the country. In all seriousness both places are alright, each has it’s own setting and style. You want a traditional bar and a shot of whiskey you go to Strange Brew, you wan’t some high quality wine and a formal experience? The Merlot.”

Where can a girl get a drink around here?

[fitzforwar-blog]

sarahrobinparker:

Sarah shrugged, leaning against the wall as she took another drag of her cigarette. All she wanted to do was have a smoke by herself and now she was stuck having a conversation she didn’t really care for. “Was bound to happen at some point. It’s more of an inconvenience than a problem. Who cares if the humans want supes gone. What are they going to do about it? Spit on us?” Sarah laughed, “If any human ever tried to touch me i’d snap them in half but luckily I haven’t had that problem.”

He shook his head as the woman spoke, She sure was easy on the eyes; but god when she spoke Triston felt his brain cells line up to commit suicide one by one. Either she wasn’t interested in the conversation or was just flat out crazy enough to think she’d last very long after she ‘snapped the human in half’ Triston was nearly six hundred and even he wasn’t that bold. Killing one human? Sure that was no more of a task than putting on his socks in the morning, but ALL humans? Now that was just bat shit insane, they may not be strong on their own but together? The human’s were a powerful force that could possibly rival the supernaturals if it came down to it. Triston wouldn’t be around though if that day ever came. He had no connections in this town, nobody that he felt he’d care about losing. Not this time at least. 

“That’d just add more fuel to the flame, You’d end up with one of those old school witch hunts on your hands and those weren’t ever pretty, believe me.”

Triston and Open

[fitzforwar-blog]

stokesofmidnight:

  Samuel had caught wind of the Central Park Summer Festival throughout the city. Those kind of carnivals never really where something that he found himself partaking in. The cliche came around his part of town too often back home and with a new life on the horizon here in New York, Stokes wasn’t going to be found at the little fair without proper reason. Instead he could be found at Strange Brew, preparing for a shift or making small talk with those who frequented the bar before he began his shift.  

  This night he was off the clock however, and yet he still found himself preferring the atmosphere of the Brew rather than a focal point like the Festival. He stood off to the back by himself sipping on a glass of whiskey as he observed the area around him. This process went on, as he sipped the glass for a few more minutes before returning to the bar to order another drink. Resting his forearms against the bar mat upon the counter top, setting the empty glass down as he nodded nonchalantly for another round.

It was one of those days, The naive little ants were running about having another damned festival as if there was anything at all they should be celebrating about all of this. However he didn’t want today to be another bland day to mark down upon the thousands and thousands that seemed to droll on by at increasingly slower paces. Now while most would have probably went to a club, a movie or something where one might meet others to interact with; Triston was not the average man though. Where most found comfort in congregation he found only isolation and stress, No instead of going out and trying to make friends Triston would be aiming to drown out the war within his mind. The ceaseless tug of war for his morality that defined who he was. A lost, confused man with the power and professionalism to work his way to the top of whatever situation presented itself. That was after all how he came to live for so long, his sheer strength of will and determination. A resolution finally presented itself; today he would attempt to get so drunk that he could not possibly think. Though he wasn’t certain the wines that The Merlot offered would suffice, no today seemed much more like the kind of day you slumped over with a handle of whiskey and tried to drown the demons that hid within your heart. Strange Brew it was then, the place had it’s reputation sure; but something told him that nobody would be looking to trade blows with a guy that could crush their skull like a ball of PlayDoh. Besides so long as he kept a low profile it would never come to that.

Before he had even realized it, his feet had carried him to the doors. The place looked practically empty save for a few lost souls that all no doubt had their accompanying demons with them. He pushed open the door and immediately surveyed the room, committing every detail to memory down to the simplest most negligible detail. He found a stool at the bar next to a man who smelt of a combination of sweat, blood and desperation; Just the kind of dismal being that would make for decent bar talk. Not one to delve into personal details, but perhaps someone who would talk over a casual beer. “Jack, on the rocks Boss. Make it four, two for the guy on my left; Us security gotta look out for each other.” He had the darker male placed as the guard the moment he walked in, the first tells being the way the man sat at the bar. As if he had a purpose other than to be there just sipping the drink he had. Secondly how alert the man was despite drinking, It was if he was scanning the room without even moving a muscle. Triston was no stranger to this routine, the robotic patrol your mind assumed while on the job seemed to bleed into everything you did when your job was keeping drunks from battering each other senseless. “Not feeling festive either huh?” He spoke to the man sitting nearest to him without diverting his eyes from the small television screen that covered the festivities that were ongoing.

[fitzforwar-blog]

mortuussilentium:

Jarred watched as the man pulled a notebook from his back pocket, it looked like some sort of journal or something. He let a short laugh out as he basically explained what the contents of his journal contained, it was a bucket list of some sort. Which was interesting, was the man dying? Or was he just adventurous as to hold the notebook with him wherever he went and check off the things that just so happen to happen to him. “I highly doubt that I’m the first to ever give you a compliment.” he knew for a fact that every gay man at the festival were thinking the exact same thing. “Good, it was a compliment.” he said to the other as he walked about the male and examined his body and stature. He definitely knew that he wasn’t human in an instant, his aura gave off something that wasn’t like the humans. As he finished telling his story about the six hundred pound bag he returned to face him directly. He grabbed his hand gently and rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. “You know, when a person breaks their knuckles when the bones heal they’ll leave a callus.” he said as he brushed his other hand above the mans. A surge of magical energy scanned the mans hand for any callus. Hopefully, the man could sense the magic flow through him and know he means no harm. 

Jarred smiled, “I’m here to help.” he said with a smile. Jarred never really knew what to do in these situations usually he was nervous but he was just going with it for the first time. There weren’t too many men that looked like him that he had encountered in his past. They were many wouldn’t even give him the time of day. On the other hand he wasn’t trying to actually talk to them. 

“My name’s Jarred.” 

Triston could smell the traces of magic in the other’s blood. Magic users stuck out to him like sore thumbs. Most likely because the magic wielders were typically the types to pump themselves full of vervain and try to lure in vamps like himself. He was initially prepared to snap the boy’s neck in two at a moments notice the moment Triston sense his magic beginning to surface, but upon feeling the intent of the magic he began to feel conflicted; Here he was totally ready to end this man’s life and all he was attempting to do was check to see if his hands were alright. Triston could only imagine the younger male’s bewilderment at his nigh perfect hands, another thing on the list of many perks of being an ancient vampire. His wounds healed nigh instantly and with the utmost perfection. The only damage on his body would be from before he turned, even then the scars of many of his old wounds healed over time a well, resulting in the nigh flawless appearance of the golden boy. He adopted a cheeky smirk before speaking again, “What’s the synopsis Doc, The money makers still alright?” 

His words were followed almost immediately by a chuckle that resonated from deep within his chest. “Just messing with ya, I’m pretty durable for a pretty boy huh?” He pulled his hands back only after he had passed the other male’s examination. Triston wasn’t estranged to people like Jarred, they wouldn’t let up until you let them make sure you were alright. He had to admit, it was nice to feel like someone wasn’t actually out to get him for once; that mainly being the reason the other male had even been allowed to get that close to him in the first place. He couldn’t help but feel he had made Jarred a little bashful, He decided to try and clean up his act a little. Maybe tone down the adrenaline that coursed through his body from the punch he had thrown. His right hand tucked it’s way securely into the pocket of his jeans, effectively hiding the light tremor in his muscle from the unspent force built up in the arm being laid to rest so soon after action. He figured the man would know what he was soon after gripping his hands, the warlocks all had their ways of discerning the supernatural; just as Triston had his. He stopped putting conscious effort into hiding what he was, instead choosing to allow himself to embrace it, even if just for a moment. “You know, if you wanted to hold my hands that badly you should have just asked me on a date.” The joking tonality in his voice intentionally ringing clear as the words fluttered from his lips.

A Festival of Fools [OPEN]

[fitzforwar-blog]

brooklynsdavis:

“I’m sure that’s just good advice in general.” Brooklyn pointed out, “If you’re head is in the clouds you can’t see what’s going on right in front of you and that’s when someone is most likely to knock you on your ass.” She made a bit of a face, “Sorry, for the language.” It didn’t bother her some much to talk like that or worse, especially if she became heated or passionate about a subject.  She didn’t know how this stranger felt about it all and so far the conversation was interesting enough, not chasing him off would a good thing.  “Even if you’re talking about figuratively or literally.” She added and listened about his theory about how they build the buildings like this, “I always figured they used those giant claw machines, like you find inside of most stores and at fairs.  It just grabs the building material and moves them in place.” She gave a nod to the side though, “Spiderman would be more entertaining though.  Props to little you for that thought.”

“And here I was thinking I was always just a weird kid with a strange thing for spiderman. Giant claw machine though? That’s some pretty heavy stuff for a little girl to be thinking about. You get stuck in one of those games as a kid or something?” His joke was intended to lighten the conversation a bit, to let her know that he at least appreciated her taking the time to speak with him. It was nice to engage in a casual conversation once in a while. It helped him keep his thoughts in check or more so at bay. “Glad we agree on that last bit though. It’s good to be grounded on the real world. I’ve known some people who got disconnected from reality and they we’re never really the same after. Talking close friends turned complete strangers just because they lost touch with the world. Makes you realize how fragile we all really are at the end of the line.”