Anna, Azra, Mateo, and Kadir. My feet knew the path; we walked in the dark. We made our peace with weariness and let it be. The moon will sing a song for me. I loved you like the sun, bore the shadows that you made.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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To say that Azra looked excited was an understatement. She did not get many chances to practice interior decorating--and had been told more than once that she was bad at it--but she had always loved the experience. When she and her husband had first rented a home together, she'd gone above and beyond trying to decorate the place. Now, she lived with her older sister in a tiny little place they could barely afford, but Azra had still made the best of it, slapping art pieces on top of cracks in the wall and getting rugs and decor second-hand. At the Inn, she gave Reese many ideas she had for decorating the lobby or the rooms for holidays--for better or worse. So the idea of getting to help a little crab find the perfect new home sounded exactly like her type of activity. "It'll be like I'm on HGTV. You know that show where they take people around to look at different beach houses and then they pick one of the best three?" Humming softly to herself, Azra began to search the beach for shells and returned a moment later with 3 good sized ones with round openings for the crab to enter, feeling like some sort of crab real estate agent.
She crouched down next to the little creature and placed them each in the sand in front of it, a few inches apart. Please talk to me, she thought desperately. The world had been so quiet since it stopped communicating with her: no ghosts, no animals, no plants. "I heard you're looking for a new home," she whispered. "You want to know a secret? So am I. Where I'm at now is good but it's a little small. I bet you know the feeling. But these here--" She gestured to the shells like a game show contestant pointing out the prize winnings. "These are big time upgrades. Look, this first one really has flare. See the little dots? Very retro. But this one is such a pretty pink. It would really bring out your coloring beautifully." She bit her lip, waiting, praying that the crab would answer her. For a moment, she almost forgot there was another person there, a human who--if he thought she was crazy--was sure doing a great job of playing along. Finally, she looked up over her shoulder at him. "He's not answering." I think I'm broken, she wanted to say. "Maybe he's really shy?"
He smiled warmly as she wished the sea star a good day, warmed his heart too because he did the same but if they they could talk back to him. That had been a dream of his since a child and it carried right into adulthood even if he knew such could never be the case. Shaking her hand he introduced himself, "Jonah. Pleased to meet you! I can definitely do that," he confirmed, "Underwater is quieter than terrestrial but some I think would have great stories to tell." Sharks would being one and whales, oh the possibilities were endless.
It was both easy and hard but he managed to a varying success "Oh... this one is a hermit," Jonah said bending down to meet the little crab, "You're not a noise maker are you?" That was addressed to the creature that quickly dipped back into its shell earning a chuckle from him. "Do you want to find a few shells?" he asked Azra, "Something with round openings. We can coax this little guy out. Shells are their homes essentially and they're always on the lookout for the ideal one, you can chat about that and maybe give it a great new home?" They were picky too and he figured if she got talking about preferences and such it would be a win for all. "I can keep looking for other kinds too, if you want something else? I saw a pair scuttling about not too long ago."
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Azra was half asleep, folding and refolding the same t-shirt she'd pulled out of the dryer and still doing a terrible job of it. Her last load was in the dryer behind her. Not so long ago, she might have been doing laundry for two--or had someone else to do the laundry for her with his superhuman speed. But Azra was alone now, washing two small loads full of sweatshirts and ratty t-shirts because for the last few weeks, she'd barely wanted to get out of bed, let alone dress up. But the advice went that you should dress like the person you wanted to be, so she'd made the effort today: a nice dress, sandals, her hair and makeup done. Anything to feel like a real person again.
Only, whatever progress she'd been making seemed to come to an abrupt stop as she saw the baby tee clearly made for a vampire. Her eyes welled with tears as she read over the sparkly pink letters. "It's so cute," she said, sniffing. "But so inappropriate and such a confusing message. A baby wouldn't even be a vampire." She ran her knuckles under her eyes. No, no, no, she thought. She was not going to think about her life before Lunar Cove, about the little family she'd imagined herself, a baby with her vampire husband. That was all behind her now. "It's not mine," she said finally. "And I'm fine with that. Totally and completely fine with that!"
Open Starter @lunarcovestarters Location: Wash & Repeat
With the lateness of the hour, the laundromat, cool with the first hint of September, was mostly abandoned beyond the few stragglers waiting for their final washes to finish. But Efe himself appreciated the quiet, allowing the steady thumping of the machines to lull his thoughts as he folded his finished clothing and tucked it into his bag. When everything was so chaotic, he found solace in mundanity, in the easy mindlessness of everyday necessities. Grabbing a cart and wheeling it over to the wall of dryers, he opened a top one and began pulling out another bundle of t-shirts and sweats. Returning to his folding, however, he bent down to the floor and picked up a discarded white baby tee. It had sparkly pink letters that read "Bite Me" with fangs. He raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat. "Is...uh, is this yours?"
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He shrugged. "I changed my mind. Turns out you have a couple of weeks to pull out of a contract. Nifty, that clause." Not that it would have mattered; after more than two lifetimes and several successful businesses, Kadir had enough money to buy two houses in town if he'd needed it. Unlike many vampires their age, however, Kadir had never been quite as good at spending that money. He tipped generously, paid his employees well, tried, in short, to be the boss he'd never had, to make sure the people working for him didn't go hungry the way he had when he was human, didn't have to near kill themselves day in and day out to scrape two pennies together. But he did not buy expensive things. His clothes were cheap and practical. He had had his car--beat up, repaired a hundred times over--for decades. He stayed in cheap motels, and his most beloved belongings were not worth much on the market: his father's watch on his left wrist which hadn't worked in over a hundred years; James' ring on a chain, once worn under his shirt against his heart but now tucked into a drawer for safe keeping, and, of course, Meena's father's ring.
"I guess after all this time, it made sense to be closer to the things I love." Meena was one of those things, certainly. But being a vampire? He was still working on that one. He had chosen this life--or this death, really. He had chosen in that dream to be a vampire with her rather than a human with James, but that did not mean that two hundred years of hating what he was would simply disappear overnight. As she took a seat, Kadir hesitated for only a second before coming to sit by her side. He moved the sledgehammer away and settled on the steps. Slowly, he reached for her shaking hands and took them in his own, bigger ones, lacing their fingers together. He wanted to reach out, too, and wipe away her tears, but he knew he couldn't sweep this bit under the rug, couldn't pretend she didn't have all the reason in the world to be crying.
He had never understood her relationship with Theo. All Kadir knew for his sire was hatred, hatred that had strengthened like fine wine over the centuries, growing with every new year he was undead. Hating Theo had allowed Kadir an outlet for how much he hated himself. He had thought that when Theo died he would feel better; instead, all that hatred was reflected back at him, all the mistakes he'd made that he couldn't pin on a dead man. But Meena had lived with Theo for hundreds of years. Kadir might never understand how she'd done it, just as she might never understand that he had loved two people truly and completely in this lifetime, that loving James had never meant forgetting her. He couldn't understand her marriage, but he had to learn to live with it. Theo had meant something to her. Dead or alive, Theo had been her husband, her companion, at her side when Kadir hadn't been. And she had killed him.
Now, he did wipe her tears away, letting go of her hands with one of of his own to gently brush the wetness from her cheeks. "I'm sorry that you've had to be afraid of that," he said. "And I'm sorry you've ever had to feel that way. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. But the idea of Meena Raja-Moore? I don't know her. I've never met her. Don't get me wrong, what you've done in this town is incredible. Mayor, clan leader. It's amazing. But the idea of you, the you you show everyone here? I've never known her. Not really. I know a girl I met two hundred years ago, and I didn't care then who your family was or how much money you had, and I sure as hell don't give a damn about that now. And I can't pretend I understand everything that's going on in that beautiful head of yours. I probably don't understand most of it. But I do know I'm willing to find out. I want to get to know you again, Meena. I want to see you, Meena. So give me the chance to."
Sighing softly, Kadir pulled off the ring he wore. It wasn't as hot as it used to be, summer waning now, but the sun was still out, and he was liable to get a killer burn before long. "It's up to you," he said, putting it in her palm. "You can give that back to me when you're ready. Because I'm going to be here. And if you're not ready now, then I'll wait. I've been waiting two hundred and fifty years. I can wait a little longer. When you're ready, I'll be here."
"Wait- I'm sorry you what?" Her eyes widened, momentarily taken aback as he casually dropped the fact that he had moved to Celestial Hills all of the sudden. "What happened to your place in Echo Acres?" She asked with a curve of a brow, given how last she checked, he had just bought a house there. Only now he had moved down the street? And he didn't think to tell her about it before hand or even give her a heads up? Not that she should really be surprised. There was a reason she could never seem to know what he was thinking even after two-hundred years of knowing one another and be able to, now, physically read his mind. "Okay?" She blinked back at him, lowering the sledge hammer in hand as she waited for him to elaborate. "Well, you found me, so?"
"I-" Her voice hitched in her throat as she stood there helplessly starring up at him as the man before finally said everything she had desperately wanted to hear. I'm in love with you, Meena. I've always been in love with you. Words that even now still caused her heart to leap forwards against her chest. And if she had heard them in the weeks after they had slept together, she would have flung her arms around him and kissed him without a second thought. She would have been his without an ounce of hesitation, swept up in the heat of the moment and the hope that they could put the past behind them. Only, as he apologized for keeping her waiting, she realized that she hadn't been. Her feelings were still there. Just as strong as they had been before. But, that wide-eyed hope she had was dwindling and, now, she couldn't help, but feel hesitant. "I don't know what to say? I... I think I should sit down," She mumbled quietly out. Letting the handle of the sledge hammer slip through her fingers and clatter against the ground as she slowly moved to sit on the lowest step of the foyer's grand staircase.
"I've loved you since I was twenty-seven years old, Kadir, and I'm pretty sure I always will, but you're not the only one whose had their own crap to sort out and what I did?" Her gaze fell from him down to that of her hands which had shaking at the thought of how only three days before, they had been stained red in her ex-husband and once friend's blood. "It wasn't for us or for this town. It was becaus-" Her voice broke as hot tears began to brim around her eyes. "It was because the only person who had seen the worst parts of me and still chose to stay, put his hands around my neck and started to strangle me to death. The one person who I thought actually knew me looked me the dead in the eyes and made it clear that he didn't see me. He saw through me just like everyone fucking else. We were supposed to be friends, him and I. Tragic companions stuck with each other because who on earth would ever truly love us? Only it turned out my friend cared more about pissing you off than he ever did about me. Not about getting to know me. Not about even hating me. I was just some trophy to him to be held. And so I ripped his head off, before he could rip off mine," She muttered out. Her shaky fingers curling into fists as she let out a slow and drawn out breath.
"I love you, Kadir. I really do, but I... I don't know if you see me either?" She admitted quietly, reaching up to wipe a fallen tear from her cheek. "And I want to believe you. I want to believe that you are in love with me the way you say you are and I want to want to dive straight in to this again. Whatever this is? Like how I was right after Valentine's Day, but now? I don't know. I think I'm afraid? Afraid that like Poppy and Theo and everyone else, you likely only love the idea."
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"Oh." Azra blushed softly. Perhaps she was getting too comfortable in this town, too used to the fact that there were people like her in every direction--people who understood magic, who didn't bat an eye at the idea of speaking to animals or plants or the dead. But the man's reaction, human as he might be, reassured her, and she smiled a little shyly but with a renewed excitement. "Yes, that would be great." She touched one of the legs of the starfish, telling it quietly to have a good day, then stood up. She was trying hard not to overthink, not to overreact and have yet another meltdown. So what if it had been days since a ghost, grasshoper, or green leaf had spoken to her? Maybe the whole world was just feeling shy.
"I'm Azra," she introduced herself, putting out her hand toward the human. "If you chan help me find a crab, I'll tell it anything you want." Maybe her powers weren't broken; maybe everyone around her just had a lot of social anxiety. Maybe if this man, who clearly seemed to be good with ocean life, brought the crab to her and made it feel comfortable, it would open up.
Jonah was thoroughly confused as he watched the other whisper to the sea creatures, at fist he had thought she was getting a better look - a move he fully felt was warranted as often times the tinier ones were missed, but she spoke and when he himself was questioned on it, there was little he could do to hide his confusion, "Umm... no?" he replied hesitantly, "Are they meant to?" It took him far too long to realise who she could be after such a question, goes to show how scattered his mind was, "Ohhh are you one of those people what can communicate with animals?" he asked, "That's really cool actually! I'm sorry they're not talking, I don't know why that is. Sorry, I'm only human so this, magic and things go over my head most of the time but I can say starfish aren't known to make much sound anyway maybe that could be why? um..." he looked around across the rocks, "Crabs are some of the more noisier creatures, I can help you find one, see if maybe it'll talk? I'm so fascinated to what it might say!"
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"My my, you do enjoy hearing yourself speak, don't you?" Anna was not quite sure why she was entertaining this interaction; as far as she was concerned, this man was a charlatan and beneath her--and likely to be six feet beneath the ground soon enough. Not by her hand, of course--she didn't do that sort of thing anymore. But with the direction this town was going, it would be a miracle for any of them to live out the year. And a man like this? Bold and crass and looking for the easiest way to make a quick buck? Audacity had clearly gotten him this far in life, but Lunar Cove had a way of bringing that daydream lifestyle to an end.
But Anna had known people like him all her life. Once upon a time, people like him were the only people who would give Anna the time of day. On the run, fearing for her life, a woman with few skills except the ability to read and fish when most women still weren't taught either skill, Anna had had to learn to survive day by day, and thieves and con artists were the types to take her under their wing. So maybe she was feeling nostalgic. Maybe she just wanted to see if he'd stolen enough expensive things for her to thieve them off the thief.
"Magiculver," she repeated. Well, if they were using ridiculous names, she might as well play along. "Friends call me Charlotte." It was not, technically a lie which was why the fae was able to say it. She had not clarified which friends, not said if those friends were correct. "Oh, Darling, the apple is just the beginning," she assured him. With a small smirk, her eyes glowed suddenly and a cloud appeared above the man. With a crack of thunder, rain poured down over his head. "Would you like to guess how I do that one?"
Culver laughed, giving a shake of his head. "Not sure, friend. I'm learnin' real quick 'round these parts not to judge books by their covers. Could be a Killer Queen, gunpowder, gelatine, for all I know," he grinned, cocking his head from one side to the other. "That said, I'd be mighty fortunate to get to be ghastly and old, I think. It would add to my intrigue, supposin' I had a touch of gray at my temples. You're beautiful. Preachin' to the choir about fairness, though. I hear I'm pretty nice to look at myself. It's why I'm so good at what I do. Gotta be able to command attention. Yes, ma'am. I'm a sight for sore eyes." He hummed, mostly just enjoying listening to himself talk now and leaning into his own half-serious bravado, holding out his arms in a 'ta-dah' motion. But the chattiness was, like most things, another tool, a way to distract so that his hands could engage in more practical needs, slipping cards in and out of hiding places unseen.
"Now what's a child gonna do with one card? You flip it up and down a few times, and you've just about tested all its limits. Think we oughta give the poor kiddo a deck, don't you?" He beamed, and with his hand now free, he fished into another pocket to retrieve a loose cigarette, which he placed in his mouth. "Thank you kindly," he replied, but really, the trick itself was rather stupid. The deck simply had duplicates of the card he had tattooed. "It's all yours. I got cards comin' outta everywhere." An opportunity for more slight of hand, an appearing and disappearing ace, withdrawn from a sleeve. Whatever coolness he'd managed to conjure, however, Culver could not help but jump a bit at the disintegrating apple. His eyes widened, and even when it was gone, he wiped his hand down the front of his shirt as if to chase away the sensation. He laughed, though, pleased at being bested. "Suits me just fine. You're a good audience. I'm the Amazing Magi-Culver. And you are? Do just apple magic or what?"
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Kadir grunted in response, setting off for the next lap at what would be considered a sprint for a human but for a vampire was still, at best, 30% effort. That was exactly what he was waiting for: to feel better after he felt like shit. To overcome this latest hurdle, to beat down the wall. But by her logic, he didn't think he'd ever get there. When did a vampire ever come out the other side? They could not defeat death, for they were the dead. They could not defeat the world, for they were stuck in it through eternity. They could not defeat the blood lust, only keep it forever at bay, always in the rearview mirror. So it was an apt enough metaphor: Kadir would never truly get tired running--his inhuman biology would take over, so the wall would always be just out of reach, just a bit too far away to ever truly reach. And so was that how life would be too? Would there be no cut off, no threshold for pain? For mourning?
"That's ridiculous," he said. "Why would you like this?" Without the high, what was the point? Running as a vampire made sense. When he wasn't busy hating what he was, he could appreciate the speed, the way his body whipped through the air, faster than the wind itself. But this slow human pace just proved that humans were a species ready for extinction. They could hardly outrun anything. Sighing, Kadir stopped and put his hands on his thighs in a display of exhaustion he didn't really feel--still "playing human" while real humans continued to jog idly past them. "Someone else--not me--might tell you that doesn't sound healthy. How long have you been doing that? Going through the motions?"
"I'm not saying it's not real," Aaliyah said, a slight tease in her voice. "I just think you've got to get tired first. It's like overcoming a fucking hurdle or something. First you feel like shit, and then you feel great. Hit the wall, beat the wall down with a club, come out victorious on the other side." Which would be quite the feat. If there were ever a creature that had more endurance than anything else, it was the vampire. Perfect apex predators that never got tired, not really. Only ravenous.
She shrugged. "I like to play at being human, too, sometimes, you know." In fact, that was all she'd done for hundreds of years. It was kind of nice, sometimes. There was something familiar in it. No, she couldn't outrun her problems. She doubted Kadir could, either. But it was so nice to pretend. "Besides, I like running. I'm not chasing a high or anything; just going through the motions."
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"God damn it, Efe." Anna pulled herself from the lawnchair with as much dignity as she could muster, slipping back on her raincoat and rainboots, less the water in the air land on her skin and grow her a tail. The last time she had seen the firefighter had been in far less cool circumstances. She had made it out of that dream with burned hands and smoke in her lungs, but she had made it out; they all had. Anna had not been in the dream for most of the drama, but she'd put the pieces together by then--mostly from Chai's own testimony. It had seemed messy, to say the least.
"What you were trying to do is irrelevant," she snapped. She made her way across the beach, but her eyes softened as they fell upon the man who she had never really managed to be mad at before--a rarity for Anna. She sighed. "My house is right there." She pointed behind her at a large, sprawling beach out. "Come inside, and we'll get you dried off and in dry clothes.
He had grown up playing on this beach, but as he walked across it now, his feet sinking into the sand, Efe found the landscape somehow strange, barren and unwelcoming. While warmer weather still lingered, despite the approach of autumn, most of Lunar Cove felt that way now. The corners and crevices that once promised joy, nostalgia, now felt foreboding, as if something new and terrible could jump out the shadows at any moment. But his nerves were simply frayed.
Efe himself had gotten no rest, pouring himself into recruiting for the volunteer units at the department as if he really could stop the encroaching darkness simply by building up enough defenses against it. Some success had come, of course, but it did not feel yet worth celebrating. His thoughts turned still to the nightmare, to his futile efforts, to the failures of his mortal self.
"Ah!" He cried out as he was hit by the water, looking down at his drenched clothing. "You didn't have to do that. I wasn't trying to sneak up on you or anything. At least my shoes are over there. I have to walk home."
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Young vampires were dangerous, reckless. Kadir watched Ralph quietly, smoking and running, a buzzing body of emotion and strength. The truth of the matter was that Kadir had become fond of him, concerned about his well-being, hopeful for his success, hopeful, in short, that he could be the success story Kadir knew he'd never become. Kadir had not made a great human--all those hundreds of years ago; he made a worse vampire. The events of the last few days had only proven that. "Gold," he corrected. "It's stay gold, Ponyboy." He said nothing as Ralph littered then cleaned up the mess just as quickly; he had trusted that he would. Anyway, they would have had to have a stern talking if he hadn't.
"Thank you," he said, nodding his appreciation at Ralph's actions. The boy might be one of the reckless young, but he was good at heart. He cared. That was more than could be said for many. "Yeah," he agreed, putting out his own cigarette and coming to a stop from his half-hearted jog. "Let's go for a drive." Running wasn't going to be, as Ralph had put it, a good 'outlet' for either of their bad feelings. He pulled his keys from his pocket and nodded toward the road where his car--the only thing he'd really held onto, the only thing he'd ever called "home"--was waiting. "And you can tell me who's mad at you and if you deserve it and if I need to have a little chat with them."
Fishing his lighter out his pocket, a refillable Zippo he had borrowed from someone and never returned, Ralphie struck it up for the other vampire with a weak half-smile. The motion was awkward and ungainly, caught up in the momentum of their mutual jog. But it did the job well enough. And in truth, Ralphie was more interested in smoking than in running. Exercise felt largely futile these days, his unchanging form, pinnacle of strength it was, untouched by fatigue. He did some fake aerobic arm motions either way as he continued to move, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he punched up, down, and side to side.
Coming to a stop of his own, he settled beside Kadir and blew a cloud over his shoulder before tossing the thing to the ground and crushing it with his sneaker. Remembering the other disliked litterers, though, he bent over to sweep the smoldering rubbish into his palm. "What's wrong with what? I'm golden, Ponyboy. What's wrong with you?" He narrowed his eyes. "You ain't really just out here tryna to catch some runner high, are ya, Kadir? Velour tracksuits are a little more my vibe." Ralphie gave a low hum. "But me? People are pissed at me, and I'm tryna find healthy outlets for my bad feelings 'bout it. But they suck. They're boring. Wanna go joy riding?"
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Damn it, not again. Anna sat up so quickly, she nearly dislodged the chair from the sand entirely. Handfuls of it rose up into the air, temporarily disrupting her view--though the giant wave of water in front of her was doing that well enough on its own. Her senses were coming back, the dream world fading away and the real one sliding back into place, but that did not immediately take away the panic. Anna dreamed of what she'd done plenty of nights--most, if she was being honest--but it was the threat of what she could do next, of repeating what she saw in her nightmares, that pulled the air from her lungs. She stood, sleeves falling down around her arms, gloves already in place, and slipped on her rain-boots--anything and everything to keep the water from seeping in and growing her a tail then and there. Her eyes scanned the shore, searching for the girl she'd only seen in the briefest of flashes. There had been brow hair, a short stature, a yell and curse. Where was she?
The wave settled down as Anna took purposefully deep, calming breaths. And there she was. Wet, pissed by the looks of it, but alive. Anna's heart rate began, slowly, to even out. She may have just made an enemy, but she had not added another name to her body count, another poor lost soul swept out to sea forevermore.
"You should know better than to wake a siren, Darling," she snapped, though truthfully she knew the girl couldn't have known, knew this was no one's fault but her own. "Why are you out here? It's late. Do you have a death wish?"
Option Two
Go on a nice walk by the water, Ronnie. It'll be relaxing, Ronnie. Cleaner water than you've seen in years, Ronnie. That's what the vampire told herself as she decided to go on an moonlit stroll beside the water, even going so far as to take off her shoes and allow her feet to get wet. Nothing more, mind you. Vampirism doesn't automatically allow someone to swim. But it was nice, and the water was clean, and Ronnie did feel a little relaxed. A rare feeling in Lunar Cove, but still an appreciated one, all things considered.
She didn't even pay the woman sleeping in the chair any mind at first. After all, Ronnie had slept in plenty of strange places since she moved to town. Who was she to judge? She did judge when the woman's eyes glowed, and she was more than judging when a wave crashed into her head, soaking her. "What the fuck?" Ronnie yelped, her fangs coming out on some sort of base instinct she wasn't yet used to.
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What was he doing here? It was a fair question. I don't know, he wanted to say. None of this is easy. None of this makes sense. He wanted to tell her about the weight in his chest and ask if she felt it too. Did she too feel like the ground had crumbled? Did she too feel uncertain of which way was left and which was right? "Hard to stay away from this side of town when I live here now." They had been arguing about where he lived not long before the world had turned over--again. In the distraction of his research, of hunting down Kyle, of trying to set the record straight and pinpoint the true culprit behind the thefts and destruction, Kadir hadn't had much time to move in. But he had put a payment down on a house in Vampire territory. And he had finally moved all his things--which was little more than two duffle bags--out of his car and into the foyer. Unpacked, yes, but there. A potential of home. A promise to stay. Finally, he had turned in his key card and left the hotel.
"I'm here to see you, Meena," he said plainly. There was no more point in beating round the bush, in saying anything to each other but the honest truth. They'd seen too much, been through too much for that. He was too tired to play games. Holding his heart behind a wall and second guessing every word he said, every move he made, had only made his life harder, not better. It might just have been a dream, but Kadir knew that he owed James that much. James had known full well that Kadir was still in love with Meena. It had been the Pixie's idea in the first place to be honest about that, to try and figure out why his heart kept leading him back to Lunar Cove. If he was really ready to let him go, he damn sure better make sure it was for a good reason.
And there was no reason better than Meena.
"I needed the last few days to--to get my head on straight. And that has nothing to do with you." It's about me, he thought. About what I did. About what he didn't do. He hadn't been able to save them both. In the end, he'd lost to Theo all over again. If Meena hadn't been there, if she hadn't stopped him, he didn't like to think what state the town would be in now. Kadir took a step forward. "It was my own crap to sort out. And I'm sorry you've been waiting far too long for me to sort it out. But I'm in love with you, Meena. I've always been in love with you. And if you need time, I understand. After what you've been through, what you did for both of us, for all of us--" For one thing was certain in Kadir's mind: the world was better off without Theo in it. "I understand if you need time. But this is a big house, and there are a lot of walls to tear down, and I think you could use an extra set of hands. So I'm going to stay." It wasn't a question this time. "And I'm going to help you, and if you want to talk, then we will. And if you don't, then, well--" He shrugged. "I've always been good in silence." A man of little words. "But I'm not leaving." Not Lunar Cove, and not her. "Because I'm in love with you, Meena Raja. It's the only thing in my life that's always been true. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you that."
Meena recognized the familiar weight of Kadir's footsteps from the moment he stepped beneath the archway of front door. But, rather than acknowledge him, the woman took another swing. Not bothering to move from where she stood, she watched the plaster crumble before her. A wave of dust filling the air as she slowly lowered the sledge hammer in hand and, only after he spoke, did she finally hum out after a prolonged breath, "And here I thought you were staying away from this side of town." Turning on her heels, she blew a stray strand of hair back from her face. Those dark eyes of hers locking onto his for a fleeting second as she asked him point blank, "What are you doing here, Kadir?"
If her voice sounded cold or indifferent it was because, after everything that had happened back at the Pendulum, as sad as it was, the once vivacious brunette had lost her propensity to care. She felt numb. Lingering in her own grand foyer or what was left of it, she knew she should have felt over the moon that the man she loved had chosen to save her life not once, but twice. But, any ounce of relief she may have felt had vanished the moment she had read his thoughts back in the dreamscape, the moment the scream tore from his lips as she sat there still bond to her chair unable to do anything but sit back and watch as the two men in her life duel it out as if she was some pretty prop and not a human being who was angry and afraid for her life. Kadir had made a calculated and difficult choice and, while she understood that saving her had been a rational decision for him, she had left the nightmare feeling more like a trophy to be won than loved.
A week ago, she may have tried to understand what was going on in that complex and annoyingly pretty head of his. She would have attempted to comfort him. Her heart still going out to him for having to lose James, even if it hadn't been real. She could still hear that heart-wrenching scream echoing in her ears. But, it wasn't a week ago. It was now. Now after she had woken up with her hands visibly shaking as Theo attempted to strangle her to death. Now after she had torn her ex-husband's head clean off and had to endure the unbearable pain of having the sire bond and her second to last tie to her humanity ripped away. Now, after she had to witness someone she had cared about's life taken before her eyes just as he had. Now, after she had spent the past three days feeling unbearably alone in a great big house. With the only people who checked in on her, treating her as if she was some untouchable figure head. Now, if Kadir wanted to come right out and say how he was feeling, so be it. But, if not, she no longer had the energy to try to decipher his or anyone else's actions.
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Kadir nodded silently and took one of the offered Camels. He knew smoking was out amongst the new generation--they all vaped now if they did anything at all--but by the time the world caught up to the fact that cigarettes were, in fact, terrible for you, Kadir was already immortal and practically invulnerable. He preferred a cigar when he could get one, but this would do just fine in a pinch. So he continued to jog, cigarette held between two fingers, occasionally taking a drag between laps: the image of the healthy unhealthy. But the high simply wasn't coming. He could turn to other things of course--most of their kind did, collecting vises like stamp collections--but Kadir was trying to prove something, if only to himself. Prove he was the good guy. Prove he could make the good choices. Prove that he wasn't his sire.
Finally, Kadir came to a stop. There was no new mark in the pavement, and he'd been going so slow--a quick jog by human standards but practically crawling by a vampire's--that his shoes weren't yet smoking (though that had happened before when he used his speed at full force). He was, however, bored. This wasn't working. He blew out a smoke ring, wishing he was in a boxing ring instead. But no. He had to found outlets that weren't violence. Finally, he looked at Ralph properly. "What's wrong?" he asked. He had to assume if the man was jogging with him, it was because there was some bigger problem he was putting off telling him about.
"Nah. Only know about regular high, ya dig it?" Ralphie was not exactly jogging; he was largely just walking vampirically quickly, keeping pace behind Kadir so that the cloud of smoke following him blew in the opposite direction. "Not from this, though. This is just a Camel. Ya wanna bum one, pops?" In attempting to decompress from the events of the past month, Ralphie had been trying too many things. He had turned to excess, to the varied vices that could not really hurt him, but also to meditative exercises like yoga and half-circling the park like he was doing now. The latter selections were more boring. Stretching his arms over his head, then, he allowed a dreary sigh to roll through him, the cigarette dangling from his lip.
"Maybe it don't work for us. Like, I ain't had a cold since 1969 neither. Maybe it's just one of those outta sight vampire perks," he offered, but he was largely speaking out his ass. He generally had no idea how his own biology worked. "I think our pads are wearin' down the asphalt, guy." He kicked at a groove in the ground that was absolutely there before either of them had gotten going.
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Kadir wasn't about to admit it to her, but he'd actually been enjoying the company. Sure, she'd sat out for a few hundred laps, but it had been nice to have a friendly face in the vicinity. Since she was a friendly vampire face, he could have hurried up, and she could have kept up, but Kadir was sure that if he did this long enough--kept up this simple, human pace, running around the same trees and waterside over and over again--eventually his brain would turn off from the monotony of it all. Granted, in his 250+ years of life, Kadir had only successfully managed to turn off his brain in moments of complete and utter blood lust and abandonment. But that wasn't an option here. So he would exercise, and he would sip moderate amounts of blood from his sports water bottle, and he would do things right this time.
"No one would do this professionally if it wasn't real," Kadir insisted. And people did do this professionally. He'd seen the Olympics. He'd been to the Olympics. Hell, he'd dated a few Olympians (and while most really were human, several had been vampires). "Why are you here?" he asked bluntly. Another reason he quite enjoyed Aaliyah's company: there was no need to fiend politeness.
Option One
Aaliyah wasn't expecting to get much out of running, honestly, except for mild amusement as she watched Kadir go through lap after lap. She'd decided to give it a go like she made most decisions regarding the mundane: without much thought or consideration at all. It was something to do, and it was of so little consequence. She stopped for a hundred or so laps, resting her eyes as she laid on the sidewalk, before she got back up.
She'd only renewed her jogging for about twenty laps when she heard him ask his question. "Is that what you're waiting on?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. "I thought you were just having fun playing at human." Sort of. No human could jog this much, even at such a moderate speed.
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Anna smiled softly, reaching out one ocean-wet hand to brush back the equally wet strands of his hair. Not too long ago, she'd have dismissed an assurance like that, believed it to be nothing but pretty words and empty promises; now, she worried that he meant exactly what he said. How? she wanted to ask. Did he keep enough vampire blood on hand to make sure it was in his system at the last moments? Of course, she'd seen him do it before--though last time, he'd given the blood to her as well. Did he know how much those words meant to her, how scared of being left behind she truly was, despite the brave front she always put on? She thought back to the conversation she'd had with Meena--about how she'd either have to watch Chai grow old or become a vampire and live forever. Anna quickly pushed the thought back out of her head. It was far too soon to be thinking like that. "You are admirably stubborn," she admitted with the slightest of teasing smiles. She turned his hand around as he stroked her jaw and kissed his palm in turn.
Anna listened quietly to his explanation. She knew she should be feeling lucky that he'd survived as long as he did, very lucky, in fact, that it was a dream to begin with--and she did feel that. She was more relieved than she could say that none of it had been real in the end. But listening to him speak, what her mind kept getting stuck on was how impressed she was. Yes, he would have died either way had it been real; but at least he was resourceful, at least he knew how to survive as long as possible. Anna admired skill and tenacity--skill with a knife, skill with what little you had around you, turning scraps to your advantage rather than waiting, screaming to be saved.
"I'm not sorry," she said. "I've been alive a long time. I've seen many people die. I've rarely had the pleasure of seeing one of the dead wake back up." She wanted to say, too, that it was nice to be on this side of it, to be saving someone instead of throwing other lives in front of her like human shields. But she hadn't saved Chai, not from anything more than a few more minutes of mental anguish. She had saved Bea--but what had she gotten for that but to be arrested not long after? "I'm only sorry you had to feel that." She stretched out across his surfboard, folding her hands behind her head before turning to look at him once more. "What if I visited you again?" She ran her thumb over his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him softly. "I can make a much better dream this time around."
"mhm, obviously," He murmured out. A teasingly look danced across his gaze as he thought back to how they used to be around each other when they first met, with him telling her off and her yelling right back as the two of them argued over whether or not to end the life of that man back on Halloween who had already been dying. Chai knew well enough that Anna and him had vastly different opinions on what was right and what was wrong, but whether they agreed with each other or not, there had never been any judgement between either of them for the choices they each had made that led them to where they were now, with her laying out across his board appearing as stunning as ever as she basked in the rays of the sun.
"Yeah, well, I live to please. You know that," He murmured out. His words remained teasing despite his own gaze shifting to mirror that of hers. Concern knitting its way across his brows as he reached up. His thumb lightly tracing along Anna's jawline as he reminded her, "You can't get rid of me that easily though. If anything ever happens, I'm coming back. I'm not going to leave you."
Only when she asked what was happening before she got there, Chai let out a sigh. "Oh nothing much. Efe and Reese were freaking out. Reese started the fire. I tried to escape myself, but there was no way out unless I wanted to attempt to run through fire which would have only killed me faster, so I laid low. Tried to prevent as much smoke as possible from entering my lungs to buy them some time. I asked Efe to get Reese out first and then come back for me. But, Reese wouldn't leave and the two of them wasted all of the time we had bickering, though, in hindsight I don't think either of them would have been able to reach me no matter how hard they tried. I was going to die one way or another. I didn't want their lives to be on me, but they wouldn't leave, so I accepted the fact that they would be, kissed you and woke up. I am sorry you had to see that though."
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Anna's breathing was labored as she sat up straight, her heart pounding in her chest. Her hand was on at her hip, fingers wrapping around the blade of the knife she kept there, and her eyes still glowed as grey clouds formed overhead, ready to rain down on anyone nearby if necessary. But by that point, that nightmare had worn off, and Anna had her senses back. She could now see quite clearly what she had missed in her panic: someone from town she recognized as being about as dangerous as a kitten holding a tea and waffle, only to be plummeted by the waves a half-second later and disappear. Again, Anna's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't--she couldn't have--but no. The girl was not gone. Anna had not swept her out to sea for a stormy, wave-drenched death. (Not again, she thought.) Next to the spilled tea and sand-splattered waffle was a person, distinguishable only by the indent in the sand and the squeak of a single word: waffle.
Fuck. Slipping back on her rain-boots and jacket, both slung over her her lawn chair (common beach attire only for a siren who couldn't get wet lest she sprout a tail), Anna hurried over to the fallen breakfast and invisible pixie. "Damn," she mumbled, turning over the soggy, sandy waffle. "Well that's a lost cause." She then reached a hand out to the pixie. "Are you alright, darling? You can come out of hiding. I know you're here, and there will be no more waves, I promise you." The clouds, too, had disappeared overhead.
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The quest for lunch had turned into an ordeal. At first, the concept of a picturesque picnic at the beach seemed like it would be beneficial—the same way a sickly child in a Victorian-era novel would go to the seaside recover from the vapours, or whatever. Kui wasn't sickly, but they did have the beginnings of a pressure headache from working through the night. So, sketchbook in their satchel and outfit double-checked for wrinkles and spots, they stole out of the shop for their own good. And to avoid eating sad cold leftover noodles. But, after passing by numerous lunch spots that all had lineups long enough to turn their stomach, the peaceful vision of what lunch should be was beginning to crumble. Finally, they gathered enough courage to enter a shop, had a tense few minutes trying to speak loud enough to order, and fled Bumblebee Tea triumphantly with a hard-won milk tea and chocolate strawberry waffle in hand. Nutrition came second to comfort—serotonin was more precious than mulberry silk, and it was in danger of tearing away with each passing moment. The breeze threatened to get their curls caught in their mouth, but they searched for the ideal spot to sit, completely failing to notice the siren napping nearby. It was too late to run—a wave surged up overhead, they knew in that instant that they should never have left the shop. Kui let out a squeak of alarm, ducked, dropped the waffle and tea to cover their head, and vanished reflexively as the chilly saltwater crashed over them, instantly soaking them through to the bone. Stunned, they stayed there frozen—invisible, wet, flat to the ground, and staring at the soggy ruins of their lunch. The only indication that they hadn't dissolved with the wave or been swept out to sea was out a nearly inaudible whimper. "...waffle..."
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"Oh, but I'm hardly the evil queen, now am I?" She raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I'd appear as some ghastly old woman just to play a trick? No, no, Darling. When you're truly the fairest of them all, you needn't a disguise." This might be true now, but it hadn't always been true; Anna had certainly used her fair share of disguises throughout the years--like that decade she'd been blonde--in order to keep one step ahead of the law. But now? Now things were tame. Now, she was bored enough to bother with a street magician with a mischievous smile and a cocky attitude because no one had tried to kill her in weeks. Eyebrow raised just a bit further as he twirled the dirt around his hand. So he was a witch after all--a witch or fae, though if he was fae, he'd made a bold career choose, living out a career of deceit and half lies. Of course, despite their inability to lie, many fae found themselves as con artists and swindlers--Anna included.
"What's the saying? Give a child a card, and he's entertained for one day; teach him to do a card trick, and he's entertained for life?" Anna's face remained passive enough, but she had to admit--at least to herself--that she was impressed. If he was fae, it might be a simple illusion, but it was entertaining enough; if he was a witch, she truly wasn't sure which power he'd have to pull this one off. "Hmm," she said simply, taking the card back from him and looking at it back to front. It at least felt real. "Not terrible," she conceded. "I'll be keeping this." She slipped the card down her own shirt and then, with a look, turned the illusion of an apple she'd handed him into applesauce before it disappeared entirely. "Come," she ordered. "You're going to have a drink with me."
Culver broke out into a hearty laugh as the apple appeared, perhaps out of genuine, pleased amusement or surprise. "Snow White's famous last words. Apples to apples, dust to dust." Deciding to add to the fun, he extended his own palm, where a cloud of dirt swirled around his fingers, retrieved with sleight of hand but animated by genuine earth-driven witchery. "What sorta powers do you have, huh?"
He laughed again, flashing a toothy grin. "Is that bad? I gotta live with me more than anyone else in the whole world. I ought to like the company. Why let anyone else decide the esteem in which we hold ourselves?" He gave a joking hum. "Gosh. You always whittle away your time talkin' to the potentially useless, ma'am? And here I thought I was entertaining." He raised an eyebrow, giving a roll of his shoulders as a sideways smirk settled across his lips. "Of course it wasn't. Your card is someplace else. But don't knock twelve-year-old's. I believe the children are our future. Teach 'em well, and let 'em lead the way." Furrowing his brow, Culver took the apple and rubbed it along the front of his shirt. And tugging the fabric down at his neck, he revealed a tattoo inked near his shoulder blade, depicting three fanned out cards, the correct one face-up in the center. He rubbed at it and seemed to produce a matching physical card in his hand from nowhere. "This is yours."
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There were tears streaming down Azra's face as the vampire came to her aid, and she couldn't have said to save her life what she was really crying about: that she had ruined the painting? that this stranger was being so kind to her? that her mouth now tasted like acrylic paint? "You're-" she hiccuped, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, then wincing when she got paint in her eyes too. "--so--" she found an unpaint covered bit of skin and this time successfully wiped away the tears. "Nice. T-thank you." With quivering hands, Azra lifted the mug to her lips and drank the 'not-paint' water; it successfully did not taste like the non-Skittle colors of the rainbow this time. "I shouldn't have gone out today," she admitted to the man. "I recorded the last Twilight movie. I should have just stayed home and watched it with some Rocky Road." What an impression she was making, running around this town--her new home--crying at the drop of a pin in front of everyone she met.
By the time she'd finished the unpolluted water, however, Azra had marginally calmed down, and her tears seemed to have dried up. "Thank you," she said with a little more confidence this time. Thanks to the vampires' efforts--and his superhuman speed--her painting truly didn't look that bad. "Yeah," she said, nodding. "That could work. I like storms. Very atmospheric." She took up the brush again and mixed some white and blue together. "I know this might be surprising," she said. "But I don't usually get this emotional about painting. It's been a weird week."
He’d received reactions from his complimenting of customers — typically unwarranted cockiness or uninvited drunken advances — but Julian never had a person cry in following kind words. The unmistakable brightness in her eyes caught him a bit off guard, but not so much as the events which quickly followed. Without much thought he reacted immediately, taking the canvas and setting it on the closest flat surface before zipping to the back of the store with that ridiculous vampire speed and then to Azra’s side with a fresh water bottle, two mugs aptly labeled “paint water” and “not paint water”, and a few bunches of paper towel. “Hey, hey, no worries. Accidents happen, but that’s not a problem,” he said with a small warm smile, offering fresh drinking water in that “not paint water” mug before turning to her affected work.
Water and acrylics could be a mess, but Julian knew how to carefully blot as much damage away as he could, though some paint drips could not be saved. “Now my mom taught me how to paint,” he started, the man taking any chance to throw in an anecdote about childhood lessons to help lighten a situation, “and the most valuable lesson she ever taught me was how to work with simple little accidents like this. A water or coffee stain is just a chance to get creative in the next steps, that’s all! What was once a pure white stallion is now a speckled mare, and the likes.” Satisfied he got most of the wetness off the canvas, he replaced it before her and motioned to the spots on her painting where the paint was washed away and the white of the canvas was peeking through. “No big deal, you know what we can do to fix this? Clouds! It’ll turn your sunset scene into a romantic, stormy dusk. How about that?” His tone was upbeat and positive, trying to spin it all into something good.
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Azra's expression was hesitant for only a second longer. It would take time to get used to this town--to stop fearing being "caught" every few seconds, pulling her magic back inside her, trying to act "normal." Just the sight of Aiyla's wings, of her bold happiness, made a light grow warm and comforting in Azra's chest. "I grew up with a pixie," she admitted. "A changeling." She had only recently learned that word. She had only recently learned a lot of words, in fact. A few short months ago, she hadn't even known there were other witches, that there were so many powers beyond those she carried within her. Now, there was a whole town of magical beings. "My parents didn't--well, they weren't--" She sighed, unable to finish the sentence, but the sentiment was clear enough: her parents had not approved, not appreciated the beauty they had in front of them. "And I don't know why. Because they're so beautiful. You're so beautiful." She blushed slightly, then quickly added, "All the magic in this town, it's--it's wonderful."
Whatever worry there had been in Azra's expression a moment before dissapeared as Aiyla grabbed her hand. Azra led out a joyful laugh, feeling the lightness over take her once more, the music filling her and vibrating in her bones. She felt light as air, felt like she could fly--and as the other woman made this a reality, Azra's eyes widened in awed delight. Aiyla had lifted off the ground. She was really, truly flying. "You're amazing!" she said before she could stop herself.
Aiyla found herself caught in the spell of the music. Her surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only the vibrant notes that resonated within her. Azra filled the empty space around them with an infectious joy Aiyla felt deep in her bones. Life was often so darkly colored by the experience of the end and its grief. A sentiment Aiyla knew too well. But she'd done her best held fast to the romanticization of life and what it offered- what she could have. Drawing in on Azra's energy made the moment all the more enjoyable. She knew life was a series of fleeting moments and she was a being determined to make them all last for better or worse. Aiyla's chest tightened, a flutter at her back- they had become so second nature to her now- she couldn't imagine ever hiding them again. Her smile was heavy with the ache of a life that despite not being a part of any longer still clung to her with bittersweet resolution. Her wings flexed at her back, rising proudly, "Thank you. She choked the words out, heavy on her tongue with years of emotion.
Aiyla closed the space between them reaching across to Azra, "Please, don't say sorry." She urged, "I love the praise. Like Tinker Bell, I'd positively die without it." She half-teased with a reassuring smile. Aiyla didn't hesitate in taking Azra's hand and moving to the sounds of the music. For a moment she even fluttered off the ground in a twirl enjoying the complete lightness that blossomed in a moment she hadn't expected.
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