sabinewrites

[sabinewrites]

caelomside:

“I have no assumptions.” Katja replied. Not for want of trying. She had discovered the death of the husband, but nothing more than that; nothing that would help Katja surmise accurately enough why Alice would visit now. It had occurred to her, briefly, that the woman returned to York Ave to request things of Katja that Katja would refuse. Immortality, or death. She understood the lengths some people went for love. To die was not an uncommon want in a human after a partner passed away. But Alice Anderson seemed a proud woman, so Katja would not vocalise what she pondered because she did not want to insult her. 

Katja remembered Alice being stronger. It was not age that weakened her, rather, heartbreak. Katja would admit that she was envious of the thought. Despite how long she has lived, she has never felt that form of love for another. Not so ardently that she would want to die beside them. But it was not pathetic to her. That was not what she considered it to be. In truth the idea was strangely romantic to her, though she would not call herself such. Katja sat too, smoothing steady hands down the fronts of formal, black pants. “You will have to tell me.” She does not let on that she knows anything, face a pristine mask of unknowingness.

“... My husband is dead.” Alistair. The name nearly slipped from her mouth but she stopped herself. It stung somewhere deep in her chest, sometimes so intense that she could not stop herself from hunching over and allowing tears to flow freely - but only ever in private. She had cried with her children and grandchildren, and briefly at the funeral, but would not allow herself to show that sort of weakness elsewhere; and in front of Katja Meledin was the last place she would like to be caught sniffling and dabbing at her eyes.

Despite the relatively blank look on Katja’s face, Alice had to assume that she already knew. The how was a mystery, but her redheaded lackey seemed able to get hold of any and all information that she wanted at the drop of a hat, and certainly she must have gone digging before Alice ever even arrived in the country. But her own personal motives were privy to nobody, and she hoped there might be some element of surprise to her request - if only for a final, smug piece of one-upmanship.

“Do you remember the last time we met?” A wry smile spread over thin lips. “A silly question. Your memory doesn’t fade like mine.” There was only a slight tinge of bitterness in Alice’s tone, but more than enough for a vampire to detect. “You said that my blood was... for lack of a better phrase, more pleasing to you. I’d like to make you an offer.” The pause that followed was less for dramatic effect, and more of a final check in Alice’s mind - did she really want this? Was she sure? No turning back now. “Drain me.”

[sabinewrites]

caelomside:

Katja could not recollect much of the last forty seven years. As sharp as her mind was with remembering more recent times, it had not been a quiet half century. So many discoveries, and revelations; the uncovering of some of the oldest of secrets. Amongst all of that, Alice Anderson was one of the only pieces of memory that remained. That was to say, a memory that was lesser than all of the greater, more significant moments Katja had been witness to in these fifty years since both women had stood in the same room together. 

Perhaps the most potent of all the memories she had of the woman was that of her blood. In all of Katja’s years of living, it was so rare to find a mortal who tasted as Alice did. Katja had not craved blood in over one thousand years, yet Alice’s blood had awoken in Katja a very palpable energy, a yearning; a passion. So of course, imagine her delight, as far as delight went for someone as emotionally controlled as she, to discover that the human woman was returning. Alice’s husband was dead. Katja found out when attempting to understand why Alice Anderson would come to York Ave, of all places. It explained the visit only a little. But then, Katja would not claim to know the reasonings of an old, mortal mind.

The darkest hues lifted from the papers on her desk, and in one careful shift of those black irises she had taken in the woman completely.  My, for all the sorrow masked behind those blue eyes, old age was becoming of the Anderson woman. Katja did not look in Maria’s direction, but she saw her there too. Standing. Waiting. Listening. “It is not so busy on a Tuesday.” Katja replied, walking around her desk so that she could meet Alice in the centre of her office. Old age had shortened Alice, but she was still taller than Katja. In height, at least. “I knew you were arriving, there has been no interruption. Would you like a drink?” Katja looked briefly to Maria before turning back to Alice. “You have come so far.”

A short, stiff nod bowed Alice’s head, and she watched from the corner of her eye as Maria silently slipped out of the door. Her grip on her cane tightened as she shifted on her feet; standing for too long was also uncomfortable these days, and her eyes flickered towards the empty seat a few feet away. “Far enough that I’m sure you wouldn’t begrudge me a seat.” Without waiting for any other cue Alice sat herself down, easing herself into the cushions with as much dignity as her creaking joints could muster. The cane, with its large inset sapphire glinting in the light, rested against the arm and Alice settled both hands primly in her lap. 

It would have been easier to just come out with what she wanted right then and there - why bother going through the motions of polite conversation when she was there for a reason? But the more opportunity that arose for her to make her case, the less she wanted to do so. In a way, it felt too easy. For all she knew Katja would immediately comply, and the chair she was seated in would be her final destination. She had not yet made any peace with her children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews, though a small part of her thought it might be better that way. For once there was little conflict within her family. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?” The ghost of a smile lifted the edges of Alice’s lips, and she tilted her head to observe Katja. “I have to admit that it’s... odd to see so many things unchanged.” She also wondered if it was merely the decor that had stayed the same or other things behind the scenes remained nostalgically similar, but in the end decided it would be rude to bring the question up. “You know I haven’t just come here for a catch-up.”

[sabinewrites]

Her body was much slower these days. Creaked and cracked more when she moved, joints stiff and aching, lungs burning as she struggled to take in breath. Unfortunately, all the yoga and vegetables and vitamins in the world can’t slow the passage of time, and Alice had certainly not been the exception. Before the ailments of her aging hadn’t seemed so bad; not when she had someone to share it all with. She and Alistair used to laugh at one another when they struggled to rise from their bed in the mornings, and when their bones needed a rest they had each other to lean on.

But now her home was empty and far too large for just one person. Visitors had been frequent after the funeral, but as she expected they soon trickled down to nothing. She didn’t blame her children and her friends for not dropping round more often - they all had their lives to move on with. It was only Alice who was stuck. And that was what had lead her to York Ave, shuffling up the hallway behind a redhead who hadn’t gained a wrinkle or gray hair in the forty years since Alice had last seen her. The sight didn’t disturb her as much as it should have, though at that moment there was only a singular thought rolling around her mind.

Her wooden cane made a muffled thumping as she entered Katja Meledin’s study, attempting to stand a little straighter and look a little more shrewd than meek. The door clicked shut and Maria joined them, hovering in the corner - Alice almost asked if she could leave, but deemed it pointless in the end. She would find out the purpose of Alice’s visit eventually.

Tossing her hair back and lifting her chin, Alice cleared her throat before she spoke. “Katja. Thank you for allowing me to interrupt your undoubtedly busy schedule.”

[sabinewrites]

“We’re leaving soon, I promise... But how do I look in this dress?” (Lia and Scarlett)

“You look... amazing! Just as amazing as you did in the last dress. And the one before that. And the hairstyle before that.” Scarlett heaved herself up from where she had been lying on the bed, pushing hair out of her face to properly survey her girlfriend. It was the fourth (or maybe fifth?) outfit change; the party had started almost two hours ago, and Lia had yet to pick from the pile of shoes that were scattered across the floor in various colours, shapes, and heights. Scarlett was beginning to wonder if, by the time Lia was finally ready, it would even be worth going. Perhaps they should just cut out the hassle, order take-out and watch some bad movies? 

“I think you should wear that dress, ‘cause it’s my favourite, and those shoes.” She pointed to a complimentary pair towards the edge of the pile, getting up from the bed to collect them and drop them at Lia’s feet. One hand snaked around her girlfriend’s shoulders, and Scarlett pulled her into her side, planting a kiss on Lia’s cheek. “And then we can go! And eat some mini quiches and cocktail sausages. Looking forward to those more then the fancy cocktails.”

[sabinewrites]

(Vera and Alice) I don’t want to go out for lunch with you.

“Oh, that’s okay -- we don’t have to go right now! We can arrange it for next week or something.” Alice waved a hand, continuing to flip through her planner to find the right week. She had an electronic one, and all sorts of appointment tracking apps on her phone, but she found she rather liked the pen and paper method more than others; especially when she could colour code it all. “If you’re worried about leaving Weston I’m sure that Zelda would be happy to watch him as well as Gus.”

It had not once crossed Alice’s mind that, perhaps, when Vera said no she had meant no, never -- and not no, not right now. She had a hyperbolic sort of attitude towards others. Either they hated her and everything they said was an offense, or they were her best friend and could do little wrong; Vera sat in the latter group, though when they first met she had been part of the former. “How’s next Wednesday for you? There’s this great Italian restaurant I know - it’s a little far but the drive will be fun! We can have a chat.”

[sabinewrites]

fictusabyssi:

“You asked me to come, so I’m here.” Albeit, a few months late. Lia shifted in the silence as she glanced expectantly at Scarlett in return. Usually she was quick to fill a void with meaningless words and smiles but rather than light and airy, anything she wanted to say felt heavy on her tongue. “I had to pray on it, for a while.” Lia offered in lieu of a blunt explanation, it felt more polite than a rant; she hadn’t come here just to get angry all over again. She wasn’t exactly sure why she’d come here. Another long pause ensued as Lia twisted her ring around a thin finger, the thing was more like a rock than anything. It was absurdly extravagant and glinted and glared in the sun, she still hadn’t adjusted to the weight on her finger. “So, how’s, uh, your treatment goin’?”

Scarlett’s eyes drifted from Lia’s face to her fidgeting fingers, where the wedding ring stood out like a slap in the face. Her lips twisted down and she looked elsewhere, at a small family walking outside in the sunshine. There was an awkward air between the two of them -- only to be expected, really, considering Scarlett had gatecrashed Lia’s wedding and outed her to her entire extended family. Not one of her prouder moments, and she cringed somewhat at the memory. Her gaze flickered back to Lia’s face at the question, and she shifted some in her seat, shrugging. “Good, I guess. Just over the withdrawal period so apparently that’s the hard part out of the way.” They kept telling her that, though she wasn’t entirely sure. Withdrawal had been hell, the kind of thing she (probably) wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy -- but she wasn’t sure the prospect of going through it again was enough to deter her from drinking. At least, for that moment. 

Scarlett gestured towards Lia’s ring, and her arm felt oddly heavy when she did so; her breath caught in her throat for a moment. “How’s, uh -- married life? Everything... settled down?”

[sabinewrites]

(Cecily and Riley) You should have shouted for me, I would have come and brought you in. It’s cold out on the porch.

Riley grumbled something incoherent under her breath, gripping the blankets Cecily had wrapped around her shoulders a little more tightly. She’d just been drifting off into sleep, or maybe something a little deeper, when the werewolf had appeared and scolded her for being outside. She felt like a baby being mothered when Cecily did things like that -- bundling her inside and making her sit by the fire that just barely warmed the old wooden beams of the farmhouse, telling her that she’d catch her death if she did things like that all the time. Maybe that’s what I want, is what she felt like saying. 

“I didn’t want to be brought in.” Her words came out more like a sigh than a sentence, and she deliberately curled her toes inwards, away from the warmth of the flames in front of her, like staying cold was some silent protest. “I like the view.”

Not that there was much of one. Her uncle had all but forgotten that the farm needed maintaining as he got older, and spent most of his time inside the decaying farmhouse, creating insane weaponry that didn’t work and coming up with new conspiracy theories about the metaphysical relationship between hunters and vampires. His old office was a mess, the kind which Riley didn’t want to touch with a ten foot pole. Outside the grass was completely overgrown with tangled weeds among old and broken furniture and several car shells. Rusted tools lay strewn near the barn, as if some wind had picked them up and scattered them from their holding shelf.

It was not a pretty sight, and yet it brought Riley some odd comfort. “It has that quaint, post apocalyptic charm.”

[sabinewrites]

(Zelda and Marielle) Did that freak you out? What the fortune teller said about us? I thought... it was good. Wasn't it good?

“Freak me out?” Marielle repeated Zelda’s words back as if they were in an echo chamber, and paused in her steps to look at her companion. She’d been in a world of her own up until that moment -- thinking, quite extensively, about what the fortune teller had said. Marielle wasn’t much of one to believe in things like palm reading and future-seeing (if it came from a human that is), but something about what the woman had said... made her think. Made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Made a bubble of something akin to hope sprout in her chest. 

You’re going to have a beautiful life together, that’s what she’d said, lots of children, so much happiness! The kind of thing neither of you could ever give up on. In the moment it had seemed silly. She and Zelda were still on uncertain ground as far as their relationship was concerned, despite both of them knowing what they wanted; to be with each other. But for them, student and teacher, it was not so simple as letting their feelings have free reign. Clearly this was the sort of spiel the woman gave every young couple that came through her tent flaps, the kind of thing any two people in love wanted to hear. That they would last forever and they would have lots of children and be happy. It wasn’t to say that Marielle herself didn’t want that with Zelda -- she did, she was coming to realise the more she thought about it -- it was just the words seemed too good to be true. 

But still. That bubble in her chest told a different story. “No, it didn’t freak me out,” she said, shaking her head and smiling as she reached out to clasp Zelda’s hand in her own. “I thought it was good too.”

[sabinewrites]

(Isabelle and Maria) Ever wonder why she doesn’t just kill me? Or let you do it?

“I wonder about many things, but it’s not my place to question it.” Maria gave Isabelle a side-ward glance, not wanting to acknowledge her too much. She found the woman... disgusting at best, though somewhat interesting in terms of her origins. She imagined it was the same line of thinking for Katja; the tenuous link to Sky would have piqued her interest enough to leave Isabelle alone, though Maria suspected there was some other motivation involved that she was not yet privy to. 

“Perhaps you have your uses yet. Or perhaps you’re too insignificant to bother with. A lone, sadistic vampire who preys on weak humans is hardly any sort of threat, is it?” Her eyebrow raised, a perfect arch, and her gaze turned back to surveying the gathering they were both in attendance of. Gossip was usually what Maria listened to in order to find out juicy pieces of information, either for entertainment or for other purposes -- but all anyone seemed to be talking about was Isabelle. A fact she supposed the redhead delighted in. “Shouldn’t you be off disemboweling someone?”

[sabinewrites]

auroraside:

          Casey turned her wide, angry eyes to Cleo, and almost impulsively she hacked up phlegm in the back of her throat, balled it in her mouth, and spat it at the woman. The white foam stuck immediately to the side of Cleo’s nose, just beneath her eye, slowly beginning to dribble down. Even Casey, who had shot the pellet of spit, looked surprised, and at once she grew limp against Cleo’s arm and body. “I didn’t do that, you know. It was the ghost.” The ghost, a woman named Nancy Bordelon from Louisiana. Casey still wasn’t sure from what era, Nancy didn’t tell her much, too busy being angry. She came and went when she felt like it. 

As a ball of spit hit the side of her nose Cleo barely reacted, eyes scrunching up and fists clenching, attempting to hold back some anger. It’s not Casey, she had to remind herself, she can’t help it. Periodically she had to remind herself that, despite the parasite living inside of Casey, she was still just a human. Easily breakable, if Cleo wasn’t careful about it. 

As the woman grew limp beneath her and seemed to calm, Cleo watched with narrowed eyes, skeptical, silent for a few seconds until she decided it was safe, and sprang up from on top of Casey to wipe at her face. “Sure.” Another few seconds of silence and Cleo noticed her breathing was laboured; not through physical exertion on her part, but there was always a little too much adrenaline running through her when it came to dealing with Casey’s... problem. “You okay? Need some help?”

[sabinewrites]

auroraside:

          Zelda held a wallet of photos of the quadruplets in her hands, nervously bending a blue corner as Scarlett settled into the leather chair opposite her. A close lipped smile grew upon her face, hesitant; careful. It had been several years since she’d been to the centre, only this time she was the visitor instead of the visited. Scarlett looked better, though it didn’t feel completely accurate to use that word, better; her skin had cleared up, and she looked more attentive to her surroundings than she had done in the past. The difference was almost uncomfortable to see. Zelda couldn’t remember a time when Scarlett acted how she acted now. Perhaps she was overthinking it, that it wasn’t true in the slightest, but Zelda didn’t think she’d seen Scarlett in this way since school; long before anything significant happened in their lives. When she thought back on everything, it was so easy to see that her cousin’s drinking issue had started so much earlier than just a couple years ago. That was scary to Zelda, how easy it was for shit like addictions to drink, or to drugs, could go unnoticed for so long.

          “Nothing bad’s happened.” Zelda shook her head, quickly, as if she didn’t want to worry Scarlett about anything happening outside of rehab, and her recovery. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine, more than fine. She could list all of the amazing things in her life right then if she was asked to, but she wouldn’t, it didn’t seem kind, just selfish. “Just wanted to see you.” Her fingers set flat the wallet of photos onto the table, and she rest her palms over them. “See how you were doing.” A little, breathless laugh escaped her, though she wasn’t sure why she laughed, and raised her hand to the back of her neck. The whole place made her nervous, but it was the apprehension in the pit of her stomach which caused her to shift awkwardly in her seat. She needed her cousin to be okay. “How are you holding up?”

Scarlett nodded; slow and heavy, as if something sat on her shoulders and made her bow further forward than she needed to. These days she found herself feeling tired most of the time, though she supposed it was better than how she’d been feeling a couple of weeks ago. Tired was better than half-unconscious and shouting about visions of her ex girlfriend taunting her in the corner. They told her not to worry too much about the fatigue for a while anyway. 

“I’m okay.” She said it flippantly, eyes wandering across the room as she fiddled with her fingertips, like being in rehab was no big deal at all. “Kinda bored. They keep telling me to go to... crafts groups or something but the only one that runs when I don’t have group therapy is knitting club. And, uh, I’ve been sleeping a lot.” Scarlett rubbed at the base of her neck, only occasionally meeting Zelda’s eyes, as if she were ashamed or avoiding a confrontation. In truth it just felt odd to see her after so long (in reality not so long at all, but longer than Scarlett had ever gone without seeing her cousin since they were reunited in high school). 

She cleared her throat and nodded towards the wallet under Zelda’s hands. “What’s that? Pictures?”

[sabinewrites]

fictusabyssi:

“I didn’t think you’d wanna see me.” Nadia told her hesitantly. For a moment she let a dry silence overtake the room as she glanced around the room. It looked more like a Holiday Inn than anything, inviting but nothing like a home. Then again, it was rehab. “And I didn’t come empty handed.” She was quick to offer up a mini cactus and a bottle of coca-cola as if that made up for any past transgressions.“Usually I’d get some champagne – like that really cheap one we used to get at the corner liquor store?” She laughed before reminding herself, yet again, this was rehab, “But I figured that wouldn’t really fly around here… Plus, Coke doesn’t give you nasty hangovers like that stuff did.” She was quick to add.

“I don’t.” Scarlett’s voice was flat; unimpressed. She didn’t have the energy or the inclination to feign niceties. Not with Nadia. “Surprised you’ve even made the effort. Also surprised you’re not drunk.” Nadia was not the sort of person to go out of her way for others - either she wanted something, or her conscience had finally caught up with her. Scarlett would bet money on the former. As the gifts were pushed across the table, she glanced briefly at them, shooting Nadia a look as she spoke of champagne. Her hands lay flat on the arms of her chair, fingers flexing back and forth as, once again she surveyed the gifts. “You got the coke from the vending machine outside, didn’t you?” Scarlett’s eyebrows raised. “And I bought that cactus for our apartment last year. If you turn it over I wrote property of the party house on the bottom.”

[sabinewrites]

@auroraside

“Hm? Oh -- oh, it’s nothing. Really. I promise. It’s just -- it sounds so silly now! I mean... oh, goodness...” Marielle wiped at her damp eyes, sniffling, pushing strands of hair out of her face. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and more tears rolled down her cheeks as she struggled out a sentence. “I... I ran out of Percy Pigs. And the shipping! It’s going to take weeks for the ones I ordered to get here!”

[sabinewrites]

@auroraside

“What a strange world you live in.” Helene’s eyes scanned the surrounding area; taking in the lights, the noises, the new things to see around her. Cars had been quite frightening when she first saw them driving along the roads - almost walked out in front of one, unaware it was coming. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her when it came to the rest of the world, and what she was missing out on. Many had tried to convince her that leaving Hollental, for any length of time, would do her no good; others had been glad to see her go even for a little while. Helene didn’t much care for any of their opinions. She was there for her own wonders, her own experiences, her own desires. “Tell me, how do these car machines work? I would like to try using one.”

[sabinewrites]

@auroraside

Forearm pressed against a slender neck, bulging with strained muscles as Casey struggled against her weight. “You keep doing that and I’m gonna end up breaking your neck!” Cleo pressed down a little harder, trying to keep the other woman still. The whole ‘possession’ thing was inconvenient at times, such as now, when Casey began acting more... violent than usual. It was hard to tell sometimes when it was the thing inside her or Casey herself; both of them seemed to like standing on tables at any given opportunity. “Stop it! Damn!"

[sabinewrites]

@auroraside

“...Didn’t think you’d come to see me so soon.” It was still the early stages of Scarlett’s treatment at the rehab centre; the fanciest place she’d ever been to by far, and seemed more like a hotel than anything else. If there was something to drink on hand, then, well... no. No wishing. You don’t need it, you don’t want it. Fingernails dug into the palm of her hands as she shifted in her seat, facing her visitor more head-on. The hard part was over, they all kept telling her, the detox. The thought of going through that again was enough to make having a drink seem like the worst idea in the world. Weeks upon weeks of sweating, shaking, vomiting, hallucinating -- a good chunk of it she’d been unconscious for, drifting in and out amid the stomach cramps, but she wouldn’t have wished that experience on her worst enemy. 

A glass table sat between them, comfortable armchairs to lounge in while they chatted, but Scarlett sat on the edge of her seat, as if she couldn’t wait to get away. “Did something happen? Bad news?”