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Shay Mitchell for Louis Vuitton

Paris, march 2024

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There's a cold drawl that comes from her voice, all of a sudden tired and yet she tries to not speak with any emotion -- only the energy of a party girl whose been to hell and back for too many days in a row. "I've tried to forget." Her jaw moves, she is half human even her father had been dead long before she was born by her Succubus mother and watching so many die in the mud as she was connected to the Cerebro tore something within her and certainly had caused a nightmare or two. "I've always been good with memory." A flick of her lips. "Sometimes when I touch someone, I can pull back a memory. Normally it's all fun and games until you can never clear your mind from what you've seen." It's a lot to hold memories of one's own past but to reach other's got exhausting at times, luckily she had always put it into painting. A devil's grin as she stood up straighter. "No trouble at all." She wasn't someone who gave up easy, even when the flames were at their ankles.

Easier said than done; how long and often could one keep keeping on until they became unrecognizable, until the end no longer justified the means. Pushing away his family, longstanding friends, and any in between as the Archer was hellbent on completing his own goal, no matter what wretched timelines or sprouting mushrooms attempting to get in his way. Sabina was a very real piece of what he hunted, infernal blood, so why he treated her any different was any clue to the hunter; he was also sprouting something very real with the First of demons, so it was fair to state that Wade had some sort of implicit bias when using discretion between each demon, cambion, and otherwise, that he chose to hunt and chose to spare. "Oh, yeah?" Wade nodded her direction, "So, there's no trouble for you to keep on keepin' on either, right?" What she spoke of, these unfathomable horrors that could not be medicated away, seemed difficult to navigate around; Sabina was one who hid her pain well, hid her pain often, maybe that's why he got along with her so well.

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SHAY MITCHELL photographed for BEIS Travel 2024

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SHAY MITCHELL for BÉIS Travel, 2024

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He's dressed in full leather with cheeky cut-outs and a bare chest, her wardrobe has been more boardroom sexy lately than her usual neon rave outfits. She still has a halo constructed of holly and berries and she's asking him about the lifeline that never happened, the days that were lost and when they became lost -- the guilt of seeing everyone in the mud and on the battlefield affected her more than she's willing to admit and she hates that everyone is indulging in hedonism with sounds of fangs biting into neck and the wet sound that could either be people getting it on or someone bleeding out and she's concerned about the survival of Rome's citizen in a dream away. "Understood.. well not really but I won't make you go there anymore. This is meant to be party, no one wants to relive an almost death. We can take shots off a vampires navel if you like, let them succ our blood." Hands lifted in a spook tactic as she puts on the classic Dracula drawl.

Ismael made a face of discontent, this conversation would be uncomfortable to dish out between those who did remember, but it felt even more scathing to reveal it to one who had been given the mercy of death. Death was a kindness within the End and although many had been salvaged from it's clutches, there were those who had been the collateral. Guilt was hard to evade in such a situation and he understood, very well, that Sabina was one to conceal her true emotions to the point of controlled perfection. "The Great Old Ones, they'd taken any halfblooded survivors; we were like cogs in a machine, with them tapping upon our abilities nonstop." Ismael took a pause to down another drink and it seemed the cocktail waitress sort of got the point and had lingered to pass the cambion's more liquor to soften the blow, "Death was a kindness, but I know it doesn't mean you went without suffering." His head bowed, god this was a heavy conversation to have in the height of a vampire rave.

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SHAY MITCHELL for Cacharel parfums.

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A hand over her heart and this is what affection looked like for them, a slender brow was arched and a tease colored her voice. "You'd kill for me? Babe, you flatter me." A devil's smile dressed her lips and she wouldn't think about it, causes a ripple of panic to think about it but she knows Rhia wormed her way deep in her heart by their matching ruthless and carefree attitudes.

Sitting up to tend to the bar that sat between their lounge chairs "More for me." A hum of pleasure and satisfaction left her lips, she'd happily drink the bottle of tequila in the company of her bestie and fixed herself another cocktail. "Don't worry about it, I'm not itching to be a senator seems like a bore and my crimes don't do well under the microscope."

Rhiannon let out a sigh of passive resentment. She didn't know the other cambion well, but anyone who chose some guy that picked locks over her girl Sabina? Ridiculous. The Juno vampire would be bias for eternity. Sabina had never held her the vampire's love romantically, only 3 beings in her extremely long life ever did, but she loved her just the same.

"Ugh, pathetic." Absently, Rhia pushed over her empty glass and waggled a finger 'no' for refills. She only humoured non-fresh drinks with blood socially every once in a while. They were beneath her, despite the fact her friend mixed them up nicely. "Well. I have no attachments to this guy. If you ever need him out f the way, you know who to call, babe." A Marshal killing a Senator? Bad. But she was one foot out the door of the Senate anyway, playing her life recklessly until she figured it out. "Got it?"

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SHAY MITCHELL photographed for Tommy Hilfiger December 2023 campaign

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SHAY MITCHELL photographed for Tommy Hilfiger December 2023 campaign

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who: @serxssa where: Lupercalia

Shaking the mud off her from the capture the flag event, she was pissed from losing. Life had been frustrating lately and she could really use a win. The beers that were being served tasted like aerosol and gasoline, she had already had six. Spotting another half-blood in the crowd, she notices the half angels rarely visit the half-blood house despite how they knew what it was like to stand in between realms. A hand reaches out to ghost over Serissa's shoulder, warmth of a proud aunt and words just for the shell of the Nephilim's ear. "Keep fighting" Sabina caught up with Serissa "Want to get some nuts to go with our piss-poor beer?"

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Life had demanded a lot of her lately and she knew it was formed from her feet being in one town for too long, when you stuck around for too long life could ask a lot of you. She hadn't been working too hard on the Marshal position, she didn't haul in too many cambions and tended to respect the criminal underbelly for what it was. She had always had the enthusiastic Cleo to run Senator affairs and she was willing to take a seat back and wait for what Nathan could do. Desperate people tended to make moves and she had a feeling Nathan had already gone through hell and back. She didn't wish to make things more difficult than necessary, even if those who had died in the mud were walking the streets again and with her feet in his lap, her eyes slid closed and she saw visions of the battlefield. Blinking her eyes open. "So tequila shots?" A wolfs grin on her lips.

"Fuck yeah." Sabina's ability to roll with the punches had to be legendary; she was just such a badass. Vessel aside, Dumah was basically that kid on the playground who ate bugs, and Sabina was the cool rebel everyone was afraid of. Mortals and their flesh suits weren't ever that interesting to the seraphim for more than a night, but he was so, ultimately, irrevocably and undeniably into her. Dumah had grinned a bit as he'd spoken, affirmed by the cambion's words as he moved towards the desk. "You look like you've been working hard," and she had; truthfully, Dumah thought she'd be a shoo-in for senator, but instead, they'd gone with some old guy. Dumah could always kill him, and then Sabina would definitely be promoted. Old people died all the time. The seraphim lifted her legs to settle her feet in his lap as he sat on the corner of her desk.

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Her gaze analyzes his face for a moment, the gears moving in her head and she wonders if he mainly had sex with gay men before this. "Yours or mine?" She was a free spirit, whether it came to the streets or the sheets but she's never understood men's obsession with the back door when the front door was wide open. If he's asking to be fucked, it wouldn't be her first time donning a strap-on, in fact she had top energy and pegged men on the regular before they had met.

It was time to be a man, get bold and take that next step. It wasn't like he hadn't done this with someone before, but Dumah and Sabina had never discussed it. What it'd be like and how she would feel if they went to that place together. When he was talking to Uriel earlier he'd said a lot about his true feelings for Sabina, he hadn't said the words out loud yet, but if you loved someone you put it in their butt, right? "What if we..." Dumah cleared his throat as he whispered into her ear loud enough so that the cambion would hear him over the music. "did butt stuff."

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She throws the test tube shot back and gestures to the cocktail waitress for another, she was always a social creature but part of why she attended parties was for the free drinks that she didn't have to mix herself. She didn't know when exactly she had gotten all soft inside, but he was living when she lost sight of him and she wonders what happened to them all. A nagging voice in the back of her mind wouldn't let it go. "What happened after my vision went dark? Our chance of survival was low but I saw you give everything you could." If she's going to have this conversation, the least she could do was be a little drunk. A half shrug "What's the point of pain? Sometimes that doesn't always make us stronger, there's so much if we choose to let it in that sometimes oblivion is better." She fled a home where her mother was made of the Inferno and killed men for survival

There's a vampire hosted party ensuing around them and they're chattering about death and traumatic memories. It's spot on for Sabina, and it encroaches a very nihilistic realm for the two of them. Ismael's not exactly a beacon of positivity, he can see the world as a glass half full, but he's more respected for his endurance; life had disrespected him countless times and Ismael learned to swallow the collateral each time. "I wasn't so lucky, Sabina," he stirred the straw into his drink and the cambion was never so thankful that Sabina always managed to make them exorbitantly potent. "Death might have been kinder," it's screwed up to say to the one who had greeted Death's door, but Ismael remembers too vividly all that he had to endure, the harm inflicted. A sad smile resonates, another grim reminder of how he chose to bear the grief rather than shelving it off to another person to share with, "What worth is what happened if we choose not to remember?"

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"Getting wine drunk and making art, it's a killer combination." A tease cooed from her lips and her signature smile curved upon her mouth, her nerves have become more damaged than she'd ever admit from witnessing so much death, she liked to believe she was invincible but she was still half human living in a land of monsters even with a disposition made of steel and a party girl exterior. When she painted, she tended to project other peoples memories but this time she had made a collection that was composed of all the pain and gore that had written the war, strokes of black and red covered the canvas and it had seemed to sell expediently with those who were oblivious but craved pain.

Sumeyye hadn't really made any art in a long time now because she'd been so preoccupied with everything else going on in her life. For one, she couldn't keep a relationship. For someone that craved validation as much as she did, that was just the biggest slap in the face she could think of. Whatever, she could still enjoy some of her old art. It was still as good as any new things she could paint. "Absolutely," was all she said as she took the glass of wine and downed it. "I can't get drunk fast enough. I need about twenty bottles to even feel something."

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It was as if he came as a gift already, tanned skin on display with silver chain accents really did it for her -- a heat was flush in her core and the bedazzled cock-piece really was a treat. She had arrived in a classic little black dress with a lingerie top and a blazer, she was a Marshal after all and the wreath crown was the closest that she came to festive measures, always a grinch around Christmas.

Her hands found their place on the span of his hips, dancing along the silver chains until she travelled along to find purchase on the soft and exposed ass. An arched slender brow "Present is a dangerous word to say unless you have the goods to put out, luckily you're already dressed like a gift." Somehow through immense internal strength, her hands leave his plush ass to smooth one of the feathers that towered above them and provided a sanctuary among the ravers.

@sabinabrutus location: Hakan's Christmas Rave notes: kiss kiss fall in love

Death had come for both of them, yet here they were. Still, Dumah couldn't bring himself to forget the memory of placing her eternal body into the dirt, of embedding her with something so virulent that she'd live forever through the disease that washed over the realm. Ulthar's betrayal. Adatiel's death. Dumah had always known his father was a bastard, but he hadn't expected this - to lose so many.

The seraphim shook his head as his hands settled at Sabina's waist instead. "It's Christmas." He reminded her, "Remind me, but this is the season where people exchange gifts, right?" Dumah had been around long enough to know the holiday, he was more or less just being coy. Either way if this was the time of year meant to spend with loved ones, he was glad to be spending it with Sabina.

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SHAY MITCHELL for Byrdie photographed by Emma Louise Swanson

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Wade was a drinking buddy, she didn't know his hometown or his relationship with his father but she knew he could handle his beer and could keep up with her whether she choose to pour whiskey or tequila, at times she missed when she use to sweep through cities keeping no long term relationships, only wild adventures and met friends that were bonded through a torrential flow of liquor that made best friends out of strangers. She poured him another shot of Jameson and tried to forget the image of mushrooms sprouting from underneath his eyelids and blocking out his airways, white caps overflowing from his mouth that hinted on how tainted his lungs must be. "I've seen some shit that even smoke and tequila won't allow me to forget, it's like a different version of me and yet I remember everything." Living in one place for too long meant that more pain could be found. "There ya' go, just keep keepin' on no matter what."

Wade blinked, having been called out, but the Archer tugs a smile onto his face, grins a little at the cambion. Sabina and him were rather surface level, he'd befriend anyone would could drink another under the table like she; but things had become complicated. He thought of Flora, something that'd been meaningless sure, but their differences had been the substantial issue that pried them apart. Now with his allegiance to the brotherhood, Wade wondered how far past the point he would wander to secure their missive for this world. He'd tuck away the thought for later, right now Sabina was grieving, as was the rest of the world. "Never seen you with quite a long face like that," the grin fizzled into a mild, inquisitive frown as Wade stood up to pull his chair closer, inviting himself to her table of desserts and treats. "I'm fine, really, choking on dirt can't keep me down." It'd been rather horrific, agonizing really, but the Archer had to focus on what lay ahead, not what had once attempted to destroy him.