#{ anita threads }

[disastersteps]

'in anything that i want? i don't, i really don't deserve this.'

[nightmaretist]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Mansión Mexicana & surroundings PARTIES: Anita @gossipsnake and Inge @nightmaretist SUMMARY: Debbie is nowhere to be found. CONTENT: Mentions of child death (past).

The pair of mothers stepped over the threshold of Anita’s home, their hands carrying shopping bags of all supplies needed for their infant daughter. In this case, this didn’t include nappies and formula, but rather some separated body parts and an organ or two, freshly and locally acquired. Inge wasted little time moving deeper into the house, towards where Debbie was resting — she had gotten so big over the past few months and she was thrilled to see her again and show her what they’d gotten her.

But when she and her co parent reached the room assigned to their darling child, they found nothing. There was no hungry clicking sound. No wide eyes observing them, no wriggling body covered in quills. Inge dropped her bags and let out a sound of dismay, “Where is she?” She looked at Anita, wondering if she had moved her. A trail of bristles and goo lay in the room however, leading towards the window the pair had left open. She rushed towards it, letting out a screech into Seven Peaks.

_ 

Anita had grown used to having Inge and Deborah around over the past few months. More than just used to it, in fact, she had grown to truly cherish them as the two most important women in her life. So many of the things Anita used to do on her own she now had a partner for, including killing strange humans for food. She wasn’t sure there was any sight more beautiful than watching Inge clean up organs to feed to their sweet child. It was the closest thing to domestic bliss that felt attainable to the lamia. 

But she should have known better than to think that bliss could last. Chills started at her spine and spread throughout Anita’s entire body when she heard the noise Inge made, followed by the question about where Debbie was. She saw Inge go to the window but refused to let her mind consider that reality. Instead, Anita began to tear the room apart. Throwing the pillows, blankets, toys, baskets of clothes about, “She’s in here. She’s in here.” 

Her efforts were useless. The trail of goo was obvious - the goo went up over the window, down the pane on the other end. “Deborah just went out for some fresh air, no? Just like her mami, can’t get enough of nature.” There was a panic in Antia’s eyes as she looked towards Inge, though, her face revealing what she knew to be true but could not stand to say aloud. 

_ 

The increase of murder and the handling of body parts did not bother her. Whatever thoughts about Rhett and his toes, feet and leg might rise to the surface to ruin it for her were suppressed by the blissful baby haze Debbie had put her in and Inge enjoyed supplying her baby her food. Besides, it was not much different than plucking a chicken or preparing a turkey, now was it?  

It was a labor of love, one she intended to do for many years. Eighteen, at least, if not more … perhaps Debbie would always need their help with food, the way a dog did. Not that she was a dog and to compare her as one would be immeasurably cruel as dogs were the worst type of animal. Regardless, this was something she was committed to. She and Anita, co parenting for years, dedicating their precious time to their darling child. 

But she was gone. The window was open, there was a trail leading towards it and Anita was panicking the way she was. She pulled herself back from the window, looking at the lamia. Inge noted that there were tears in her eyes. “Were we too late? Too late to feed her? She must — of course she likes nature. We have to go.” She picked up one of the bags and walked promptly out of the room, back out of the house and into the surrounding woods. The tears were on her cheeks now. 

She distantly remembered losing Vera in crowds. At town festivals or at the local market. Worse, in Amsterdam. There was no panic quite like it. It was back, now. She walked into the woods, certain that Anita was with her, and screamed: “Debbie!” 

_ 

Where Anita felt hesitation, Inge seemed to spring into action - rushing out towards the back door to follow the trail of breadcrumbs that Deborah had left leading away from the house. Trusting that Inge had more experience, that she knew what she was doing, Anita followed not too far behind. There was a terror in the other woman’s eyes that Anita knew, even without being able to see her own, wasn’t reflected in hers. 

Maybe it was the animalistic side of her. Deborah was their child, undoubtedly, but like the two of them she was not human. Unlike Anita, unlike Debbie - Inge had been, once upon a time. “I’ve taken her out in the woods plenty of times. She knows the area out here.” In attempting to calm her partner down, Anita also opted to let her eyes shift so she could scan the area for the heat signature of their daughter. “I can’t see her.” She paused, trying to keep everything calm, “Yet. I can’t see her yet.” 

They pushed forward in through where Anita’s yard ended and the tree cover began, the path left by Deborah beginning to get more unpredictable. If Anita hadn’t known better she might have thought that the winding tracks were an intentional attempt to throw them off her scent. But she knew better. Debbie wasn’t just some creature she studied - this was her family. “She’s quite fast. Have you noticed? We should find some activities to sign her up for once we get back home - keep her active. Find a way to channel this into something she can excel at.” 

—

Anita was trying to be rational and Inge could not really grasp it. She’d raised Vera in a small town where kids stayed out until late and usually nothing happened, but Debbie was still an infant, wasn’t she? Besides, sometimes things did happen. Sometimes there were bad men out there, or cruel children. In these woods, there were hunters, who would probably want to strike down Debbie for her strong appetite.

“But she has never gone out alone!” There was something really desperate to her voice, a want to believe Anita’s optimism but a mother’s biggest fear was overtaking her. It wasn’t often that she was this easily put in distress, but it was different when it came to Debbie. Her head was spinning. 

It was hard to keep track indeed and she looked into the woods, longing for nighttime so she could be more mobile and faster at this search. Such was what she called it now, a search. “She is very fast. Why would she — she should not be fast leaving her bedroom, though. We should have closed the window. She’s —” She shook her head and opened her mouth wider, “Debbie!!!”

_ 

It was clear that the words she had been offering in the form of comfort were not doing their job, so Anita elected to be quiet for the time being, focused on listening for subtle coos or the delicate gnawing on limbs that might point them in the direction of Debbie. The forest was large, undoubtedly, but they had not been gone for that long and she was still rather small - it didn’t make sense why Anita couldn’t sense her yet. 

They were following the seemingly unintentional trail of bristles and goo left in Deb’s wake, the two of them calling out her name at varying octaves and decibels, but there was no response. There was no sign of her other than the trail they were blindly following. As the pair traveled deeper into the woods, desperate thoughts that had never crossed Anita’s mind before began to consume her. The pit in her stomach made her think of her own mother; did she ever feel this way, not knowing where her daughter was or if she was safe? 

“What if we’ve gone the wrong way? What if this path isn’t even her path?” Saying those words aloud led to another horrid thought, one that rushed out of her brain to her lips with urgency. “Do you think that her real -” Anita stopped herself, both from finishing her sentence and in her tracks, as she turned towards Inge, her eyes desperate despite their dryness. 

_ 

The further they walked into the woods, the more desperate Inge was starting to feel. How could Debbie have gotten out and gotten this far? She had not been very mobile before, which was explainable due to her small size. Besides, she always expected her mothers to come and bring her food — if they didn’t, she tended to get literally snippy. And yet there was no trace of her. 

Tears had burst into her eyes and then started streaming, making her throat constrict as she kept shouting that name. She had lost a child before, she could not go through it again — it was against all laws of nature (even if she herself was against the laws of nature too, according to some). “I … I don’t know, the woods are so large and she … what if she’s back at the house, Anita?” 

At the suggestion that the creature who had laid the egg that had held their darling Debbie had found her, she looked at Anita with a blazing gaze. “No. She has two real mothers, right here. Don’t –” Inge shook her head, trudging on further into the woods. “She would not leave us for whatever put her on this earth. We took care of her when no one else did. We took her in. She would not — How could she just leave?”

_ 

Inge was right and Anita was already mad at herself for thinking the thought. Had she not learned by now that real family had nothing to do with biology? “Fuck. Yeah. I didn’t mean …” she sighed as her sentence trailed off, unsure of what exactly she did mean. “Maybe she left to try and find us? Maybe we were taking too long. She knows we go out into the woods together, so she just - she went searching for us.” The longer it took to find her, the longer Anita tried to rationalize everything, the more helpless she began to feel. 

But then, as if it were a literal glimmer of hope on the horizon, she spotted a familiar heat signature in a familiar size. “Deborah!” She yelled out, and began sprinting towards what she could only imagine had to be their daughter. She had studied that heat signature diligently, never imagining she would need to identify it across a field in this context. But instead of turning and heading towards Anita as she called out her name, it seemed that Deborah picked up her pace in the opposite direction. 

Anita didn’t let that deter her as she kept running as fast as her stupid human legs would allow. “I think I can see her! She’s not too far over that hill!” She called out behind her, sure that Inge would be following - sure that their little family would be reunited in mere moments. 

–

That beautiful silhouette was finally in her line of sight again and Inge felt something inside her release, like a balloon being burst. She wanted to fall down and weep, but instead there was still some distance to cross between herself and Deborah, so along with Anita she picked up her pace, running as fast as she could. (This was admittedly not very fast.) 

Her voice was starting to feel hoarse from the shouting but that didn’t stop her from shouting again and again, Deborah’s name and all its nicknames seemingly the only words she knew. It made no sense, that she was not heading towards them — she had to be starving by now, right? Inge and Anita ran up to the hill, looking down the slope at Debbie’s grown body, worming away from them.

“Where is she going? Debbie!” The caterpillar-esque creature looked at them over her … well, she didn’t exactly have shoulders, but she turned her head and looked ahead. “Come back!” She stomped her foot, crossing her arms. “Young lady, we will count to three and if you’re not here by then — one, two —” Usually this worked, usually it was between the dead space between two and three that a child would come skittering back. But Debbie kept on moving. Inge did not dare say three.

_ 

As she reached the peak of the hill, the closest Anita had been to Deborah since she had left, she was met with the harsh reality that she had feared. Their daughter hadn’t been lost. She did not come running back to them once they all came into view. As Inge began to count with the seasoned tone of a mother who had done this countless times before, Anita simply dropped down and let her knees hit the grass below her. 

“She’s too much like me,” Anita muttered to herself, now overcome with thoughts wondering if that meant that she was too much like her own mother. Maybe that is the true cycle of life: girls rebel against their mothers only to turn into women that are just like their mothers. The ache in the pit of her stomach began to radiate out through the rest of her body until it became unbearable. But the good thing about snakes is that their stomachs are much larger than human stomachs are, so their stomachs can contain much more ache within them. 

And with that thought Anita knew she needed to transform - she could not handle these weak emotions in this weak shell of a body. Before she ran away from what she was feeling, she stood back up and turned to Inge. Before she transformed into who she really was she needed to prove to herself who she wasn’t - she wasn’t her mother. Placing a hand on Inge’s shoulder before deciding to pull her co-parent, her partner, into an embrace, she said softly, “One day she will want to come home… and the door will always be open for her.” 

_ 

Debbie was proving to be a stubborn and disobedient child. She was like Vera, in that way, who had moved out the second she turned eighteen and wanted independence from her parents more than anything. But Debbie hadn't been that way before today, she'd been a little forceful and definitely demanding, but always glad to see her mothers (as long as they delivered fresh meat). Inge never said three, because she knew that Debbie would not come even if she did. 

It seemed they were both busy comparing, Anita seeing herself in their daughter — which Inge understood more than she'd like to admit. Though she had not yet seen a mirror image of herself in Debbie, she had felt that way about Vera. Whether her mother had felt that way about her she'd never known, but maybe it was an inevitability of being a mother or a daughter. She did not know what to say in response to Anita's assessment and so she was glad for the embrace rooting her into place in stead. 

Debbie kept hobbling on and Inge felt her eyes burn, tears slipping from them when she squeezed them shut. Anita's hair tickled her face. She thought of the hospital, the funeral, the goodbye between herself and her first daughter. Was this her curse, then? To be a mother who lost her children? “I hope she does,” she said, but what even was home to a nomad like her? To a woman who refused to be rooted in place? Vera had hated how flighty she was and yet for her she had not changed, so whether she would for Debbie was hard to know. Eventually, in a small voice, she added as a final note, “But for now, we have to let her go.” 

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Shortly after Anita’s birthday party LOCATION: Mansión Mexicana PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Anita (@gossipsnake) SUMMARY: While sitting and chatting about their lives, Wyatt opens up to his friend about his nightmare problems, and Anita supports his decision to handle it with violence. CONTENT WARNINGS: very very brief drug mention

—

There were a lot of little ways that Anita had made Wicked’s Rest feel comfortable to her, made it feel as close to home as it could. Her house was the most significant part of that. Isolated from a lot of the town and out of place in terms of its Spanish architectural style, it was truly her sanctuary. Much to her dismay, the house did little in the way of giving her any sense of real community. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t built meaningful connections over the years in town but Anita missed the comfort of being surrounded by lamia. Practically she understood why her fellow reptilian beings didn’t seem to flock to the cold shores of Maine which only increased her desire to seek out the others who braved the colder weather. 

It had been no surprise that, eventually, a lamia had found their way into the Grit Pit. Anita could still recall the first time she saw Wyatt rip the limbs from his opponent in a fight - a beautifully bloody work of art. It didn’t take long for the pair to realize they had a lot more in common than just stunning scales and exceptional bone structure. They also shared a love for the miscellaneous excitements that life had to offer, which allowed for a budding friendship to take root. Anita not only enjoyed the evenings they would spend together but found herself actively looking forward to them. 

“No, no, no,” Anita corrected with a soft laugh, “I meant, like, what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened in town to you that ended up being just … normal run of the mill stupid human shit? For me, it was probably when I thought that the professor I shared an office with during my first year at the University had become some kind of undead being. I mean, the man looked and smelled like death. He kept complaining about losing time and one time I came in early and there was a strange blood trail throughout the office.” She paused, partially for dramatic effect and partially to take another swig of tequila. “Turns out his wife caught him cheating, kicked him out,  and he was sleeping in the office. I guess a science lab and sleepwalking can make for a dangerous combination.” 

—

Laughing at her story, Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “Well damn, woman, I don’t know! There’s so much weird shit that happens around here on the daily, I can’t keep track! Sucks big time for that guy, though. You know, that’s probably as good an incentive against marriage as I’ve ever heard.” He chuckled again, trying to think of something specific. Odds were he was too ignorant of the supernatural beyond some shifters and some undead to ever peg anyone as supernatural for their weird habits, but… “I mean every really intense horror fan I meet I assume, at least at first, is a bugbear. They’re kinda hard to suss out anyway, you know? But I guess usually they’re just… weird.” He snorted, shaking his head and lapsing into silence as he sipped on the tequila they were sharing. A thought struck him then and he straightened up in his seat a bit, cocking his head at Anita. 

“Oh, by the by… I met this girl recently, another lamia. But like… freshly a lamia, you know? First one in her family. She seemed… less than happy about it.” He scoffed. “Go figure. Anyway, was thinkin’ you might have better luck talkin’ to her… I know I ain’t the most, ahh, what’s the word…” Sensitive. Tactful. Compassionate. “... well, I’m not good at talkin’, is what I’m sayin’. Anyway, sounds like she’s hopin’ for a way to reverse it, which’ll likely just get her killed.”

—

“Oh, don’t you know? All the weird shit is just part of the local, coastal charm! That’s how everyone around here seems to wanna justify it all, anyway.”  As much as Anita thought people were foolish to write off the strange happenings that happened in this town, ultimately their foolishness only benefited her. They were so willing to accept banal explanations for almost anything, so willing to justify an alarming amount of unusual deaths. “You know, now that you mention it, I haven’t come across a bugbear in town since I’ve been here. Not knowingly, anyway. I’ve had a few students who were just weird enough that I wouldn’t have been surprised though…” 

Anita smirked when Wyatt had mentioned meeting a girl, not sure of where this next story was going. And unsure she certainly was. Her left eyebrow raised at the mention of another lamia and she reached for the chilled bottle of tequila out on the table to refill her glass. “First one? That’s…well, I’ve never actually met the first in a lineage before.” The idea of meeting this woman flushed her with excitement and an odd sense of duty. The lamia before her had taught her all she knew about survival but there would be nobody around to teach the first of a bloodline. “Reverse it?” Anita scoffed, shaking her head. “No, no, she just needs someone to talk to, I’m sure. And unlike you I am very good at talking. How did you meet her?” 

The next thought made her smirk softly, always hopeful for more serpentine companions, “What kind of lamia was she?” 

—

“Yeah… that clawed foot that sprang up outta the ground like an eager tulip is real fuckin’ charming,” Wyatt argued under his breath, rolling his eyes. “I guess,” he added in a louder voice for Anita to hear, letting out a huff of breath. “Whatever keeps ‘em from askin’ questions…” 

Anita’s curiosity was good, because that meant that the responsibility of guiding this young lamia was slowly slipping from his shoulders like water off a duck’s back. “Out in the woods, huntin’. We was after the same buck, go figure.” And he’d ripped it in half to share with her, like the gentleman that he was… despite what others might say. There was the question of her reptilian form, to which Wyatt laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh… y’know… snake-y…” he answered dumbly, offering an apologetic shrug a few beats after. “Sorry, can’t say I’m real familiar with snake types. Didn’t know none growin’ up, was never really taught about ‘em. But. She was… pretty.” He coughed. That said literally nothing about her type. Stupid. Shut up. 

Silencing himself with a sip of tequila, the shifter pulled out his phone and started tapping through some menus before pulling up a phone number. He set the device on the table and pushed it closer to Anita, nodding at it at the same time. “That’s her number. I told her I had another lamia friend in town, so you reachin’ out won’t be totally unexpected.” The man sighed and sat back again, dragging a hand across his face. The uninterrupted hours of wakefulness were catching up with him again, and the tequila wasn’t making it any easier to not sink into his seat and have a little siesta… 

—

The fact that it was another snake that Wyatt had encountered made Anita grin. Anyone who got her talking about shifters of any kind for more than a couple of minutes were bound to hear her thoughts on the hierarchy of the species. While she hadn’t (knowingly, soberly, seriously) said so to Wyatt, Anita undoubtedly considered snake lamia to be the superior among the lamia subtypes. “Oh, come on, mi caimán. Just because you may not have known any snake lamia doesn’t mean you don’t know snakes, no? Down that way, I bet you grew up near king snakes, cottonmouths, racers,” Anita paused for a moment, the tequila straining her geographical knowledge ever so slightly, “and a bunch more, I’m sure.” 

Pulling out her own phone, Anita copied the number into her contacts, “What? You didn’t get a name?” As she put her phone away, Anita noticed that Wyatt seemed more muted than usual. Nudging him playfully as he leaned back in the chair, she quickly sought to fill the silence. “Ay, someone special been keeping you up late? Making you too tired to enjoy this incredible tequila and even more fantastic company?” It wasn’t that Anita couldn’t handle a lul in the conversation, or silence, for that matter. It was just that it made her uncomfortable. Especially lately, she didn’t want to be left in a circumstance where she wasn’t distracted from her own thoughts. “Spill.” She prompted with a smirk.

—

Sometimes he forgot how smart Anita was, by no fault of her own. He’d just grown up around rather…. uneducated types, so he wasn’t exactly used to the effortless way she rattled off different snake species that he had undoubtedly encountered down in the bayou, but never knew the names of. It did manage to make him feel stupid at times, which he couldn’t really hold against her. It was good that she was intelligent, imagine if all lamia were brutes like him? They’d probably go extinct within a decade, if no new ones were made. Sighing, Wyatt shrugged his shoulders. “Sure, Anita, sure I did. But I was more interested in eatin’ ‘em than I was studyin’ ‘em,” he explained, exasperated. “Anyway, she didn’t look like any I’d seen before. Kinda had a… a curved snout. Y’know, like a… um…” He had to think hard about it for a moment before the name came to him, “Like a hognose. But the colors were darker.” Wyatt then gave a mock-offended huff. “Course I did. Isa. Isa Caceres. Good snake name, eh? You know, what with all the hissin’. Weird she wasn’t born into it.”  

He felt Anita nudge him and couldn’t help the smile that slipped across his face, closing his eyes for a moment. “Someone special? Don’t think that’s the right word.” No one had ever been special to him like that, at least not as far as he’d let himself explore the feeling. His mind did wander to a few people, but of course they were not the cause of his exhaustion. Not… directly, anyway. “No, it’s just…” He debated how much he wanted to say to her. They were friends, and they were bonded by something different than he had with anyone else… but god, was it weak of him to admit that he was afraid of sleeping? I’ve been having these nightmares the last few months. Real bad ones. I wake up in a panic, and I’ve been waking up shifted. And it wasn’t just that. I’m having a harder and harder time telling what’s real. The birds are everywhere, and that leg in the woods… that can’t be real, right? But I see it on the horizon all the time. I don’t even know if I’m awake right now. 

“... trouble sleepin’, I guess.”

—

Anita was never the type to let people make her feel bad for who she was, and she was a lot. She didn’t know exactly what the source of the apparent exasperation that came from Wyatt’s response was, but she took no offense. “I get it. A regular snake is fair game, I suppose. Certainly below lamia on the food chain.” She knew that her curiosity, her constant desire to learn about the things she saw in the world was not something that everyone shared. After all it was the thing that drove such a wedge between herself and the rest of her family, it was something they never could understand. “Isa Caceres,” Anita responded, drawing out all of the s sounds dramatically. “I like it. She may not have been born with it, but seems as though she was destined for it.” 

The smile that came after her question was so intriguing. The question had mostly been in jest considering how the pair had often bonded over their lack of any singular special someone, and a bit of a lack of desire to be tied down to one person. Or at least that was how Anita had perceived it. For a moment it seemed as though he was going to give her some sort of real response, and Anita refilled both of their glasses with more tequila in anticipation. But instead, she got a rather lame generic answer. 

“Oh,” she nodded, lifting up her glass to take a sip. “Yeah, that happens sometimes I suppose.” Anita tried to figure out why she felt a bit strange. Sometimes she wondered if she spent so much time studying the behavior of insects and of others that she saw things that weren’t really there. Was his extended pause because he was tired? Or had he considered telling her more before deciding not to? If it had been the latter, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that made him hold back. “Sometimes when I need a good night's sleep, I go to sleep without being shifted out of the mojave. I have a room with several industrial heat lamps. It reminds me of sleeping out in the desert. If you want, you could borrow the room for a night sometime.” 

—

He could sense the shift in her demeanor. His answer, vague as it was, hadn’t been what she wanted to hear. Even her generous offer, one that he was very inclined to take her up on, didn’t hide her disappointment. There he went again, disappointing the people he cared about. 

“Ahh, it’s just… it’s more than that. Obviously.” He sighed, rubbing his neck with his free hand. “Sorry. I’m… my shit has been… pretty fucked, lately.” He laughed. “Your party was a bright spot, actually.” Sucking in a long breath, Wyatt started to list things aloud. “Let’s see… I fucked up one of my friend’s lives more than it was already fucked up because I was trying to help them and I’m shit at that… I got a boyfriend, found out someone I was messing around with stabbed said boyfriend, then got dumped two days later for someone else… I accidentally killed a friend of mine during a fight because hey! Turns out I’m actually losing my mind! Which is just the cherry on top of all of this. I can’t sleep because when I sleep I have these awful fucking nightmares, so bad that I sometimes shift without meaning to. And now I’m starting to lose it even when I’m awake, or when I think I’m awake, because honestly, girl? I can’t fuckin’ tell anymore.” He huffed out another breath and gave Anita a shrug. “So… that’s the short of it. I’m probably forgetting some other terrible thing that happened, but it’s all startin’ to run together now anyway.” He raised his brows, looking at her like is that truthful enough? as he knocked back the tequila she’d poured him.

—

Despite her disappointment in Wyatt’s very non-response response, Anita didn’t really expect that her subtly was going to push him to open up. So when it did she almost didn’t know how to respond. Almost, until he complimented the elaborate surprise party she had thrown herself.  “Ay, si, the party was a bright spot for a lot of people I think. We all need a release sometimes.” But she could only beam with pride for a few short moments, as the floodgates had seemed to open and his pause wasn’t the end of his comments but merely the preamble. 

Several times, Anita opened her mouth to say something, to comment - at the mention of a boyfriend, someone getting stabbed, getting dumped, an accidental death - but the hits kept coming. For a split second, when he mentioned killing someone in a fight, there was a flash of panic in her eyes as she thought of Felix. But she had just spoken to them that morning, there wouldn’t have been any fights since that conversation, and she’d like to think Wyatt would know better than to bury the lead with that. “Mierda, that honestly sounds like someone trying to summarize a bad arc of a telenovela.” She poured herself another shot, then slid the bottle across the bar towards him. 

“Sorry, amor, I didn’t mean that in any kind of way. Just… fuck, I had no idea.” Anita was never very good at catastrophic problem solving. None of these things really seemed fixable by offering to kill someone. “Any of these friends the one you hooked up with in my guest room at the party?” That wasn’t the right thing to say and she knew it, but it was what came out. 

—

“It’s fine. It is a bad arc. It’s the shittiest arc! I’d really like to have a fuckin’ word with my writer,” Wyatt complained, smirking in spite of the shithole that was his life at present. At least someone in his life knew how to make it less grave. Maybe he’d look back on this some day and laugh. Maybe. He reached for the bottle, pouring himself some more while she asked a follow up question. One that had his brows raising and a grin appearing on his face, an actual grin, not one that felt forced. 

“Oh, that?” He clicked his tongue, deciding in that moment that he wasn’t going to be a sad piece of shit for one night, regardless of whatever waited for him outside the safety and comfort of Anita’s home. “No, no… that’s a new friend. Totally detached from all of that other shit, thank god. I don’t, ah… damn, I don’t even remember how we met.” He was really digging for it, but coming up short. “All I remember is him showin’ up at my place in a cab, givin’ me a pill, takin’ me to a club, and fuckin’ me in… a coat closet? Hell if I can recall.” The man laughed, giving Anita a shrug. “I guess he and I kinda have a pattern that we follow. Sorry to your guest room specifically.” 

—

Anita tilted her head slightly, but smiled and laughed along with her friend. For all of their distinct differences and obvious similarities, one thing that was more subtle she had noticed was that they both seemed to resort to humor and distraction when things were complicated. In a way it was nice to have someone who she could reasonably rely on to “yes, and” her delusions but she also couldn’t help but wonder if this was the kind of support that he needed. Was she being a good friend or a bad influence? 

But the story of this new ‘friend,’ was far too intriguing, pulling her mind out of more philosophical questions and back down into the reality of the evening. Her grin grew wider as he kept adding onto the story, to a more level headed person there may have been some red flags picked up upon, but Anita didn’t see any. “Now that sounds like one hell of a friend.” Having some easy, light, exceptionally enjoyable fun seemed like a good thing. How could it be anything else? “My guest room has seen far worse, it’s alright.” 

Anita pulled the bottle back across the table, not bothering with a glass and taking a shot out of it directly before pushing it back towards Wyatt. She scratched her head slightly, sighing softly as a few thoughts began to settle into place in the midst of the tequila haze. She’d been around a few mares long enough to wonder if someone might be targeting her friend.  “These nightmares. When’d they start?” 

—

See? He knew she'd forgive him. Not that that had needed proving, but it felt nice to be right about something regardless. He'd been wrong about a lot of things lately. 

Then she was asking about the nightmares. “Funny story, that,” Wyatt began, scoffing to himself. It didn't matter that he now had a lead on why they were happening, it didn't immediately fix his insomnia or deeply rooted fear of birds, of all fucking things. “A few months ago. Came out of nowhere, really. Just started having freaky dreams that were all bird-themed, you know. And they just kept escalating. Then I started seeing someone in my dreams a lot.” He paused. “Saw her when I was awake too, I think.” He threw Anita a knowing glance. “Turns out, she might be real. Might be the one giving me nightmares.” He shook his head, reaching for the bottle and taking a pull directly from it like Anita had. “Gonna try and get that sorted, yanno, quick as I can. Still don't mean I'm gettin’ restful sleep though.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “Might… take you up on those heating lamps. Can't remember the last time I was able to get a proper sunnin’ nap in. Bet that's not helping.” He'd been running cold for months now. 

—

Anita frowned as Wyatt talked about these nightmares being what she felt fairly certain to be the description of a mare targeting him, feeding from him. “Poor, sweet, baby boy. Yes. It sounds like you have a silly witch giving you nightmares. Not a real witch,” she clarified, “but you should find this woman and you should eat her. That will stop the bird dreams.” There was part of her that wondered whether or not one of the mares she knew was the one feeding from her friend. It would not have changed her advice, though. That was survival of the fittest. If you disturb a species higher up than you, you can’t be surprised when you find your neck crushed between the teeth of a lamia. 

“It’s almost impossible in this town. Set aside the fact that it’s not even warm enough outside for more than half the year to get a good sun nap, all the good secluded spots in the forest have too much shade and the spots with nice sunlight feel… too exposed sometimes.” Anita thought about how easy it was back home, when the temperatures spiked so high that most humans stayed indoors, to head out into the desert and bask in the sun. “You can stay here tonight, if you want, and enjoy the heat. I don’t mind.” 

—

Wyatt smiled. They really were of similar minds, and while it hardly came as a surprise, it was always a comforting thing to experience. It made him feel just a little bit less alone. Anita understood him, and she didn’t judge him, far as he could tell. She was perhaps the closest thing he had to actual family around here, which meant she was filling in a rather sizable hole in Wyatt’s heart. He was glad to have found her, and glad that they’d become such fast, fierce friends. The man nodded in agreement, shaking a finger at her. “My thoughts exactly,” he answered with a grin. 

“Yeah… it’s tragic, is what it is. Came too damn far north.” Sometimes he had half a mind to go back to the swamps, but now he couldn’t, could he? He was trapped here. In that context, her offer was even more welcome than it would’ve been otherwise, and his situation left very little room for pride. Well, at least when it came to Anita. He’d bury his problems with most other people, just like he’d tried to bury them here, with her, just before opening up. It was his default setting, and he had to actively fight against it to accept charity. “That’d be amazing, actually. Thanks, my little Mojave aster,” he chuckled, knowing the exasperated glare that might be coming his way for that one. “I owe you.”

[poisonousdelights]

PARTIES: Isa (@poisonousdelights) and Anita (@gossipsnake) TIME: Late August/Early September WHERE: The woods SUMMARY: Isa almost runs over Anita while in snake form and the two women start to talk about the young girl's lack of knowledge. Someone else comes along to demonstrate the dangers both women face. WARNINGS: None

Summertime was Anita’s favorite time of year and it always kept her busy. The vast majority of her free time was spent out in the forest. If she wasn’t out there studying insect migration or reproductive patterns she was spending her days observing how distinct variables impact decomposition rates of organic matter. And when she wasn’t doing either of those things she was enjoying the fact that the warmer weather meant she could spend more time outside in her true form, slithering along the freshly sprouted grass as she blended in with the natural world around her. 

Today was an insect observation day, however. Even though classes were out for the semester and she had somehow lucked into not having any summer semester courses, Anita was always looking for ways to improve her lesson plans. The day had been rather mundane but in that pleasantly predictable way where you feel like you could guess what was going to happen next with absolute accuracy. After several hours of observing a colony of ants, she was just about ready to pack things up for the day when something deliciously unexpected cut through the monotony of her afternoon. 

Had she been partially shifted she would have sensed the heat signature of another lamia sooner, but Anita often liked to conduct her observations the way her students would see things - like boring humans. The other snake barreled through the forest so suddenly that it caused Anita to jump back slightly, something she hoped the other did not mistake for fear. “Out for a casual stroll are ya?” She asked sarcastically as she calmly began to gather up her notebook and pens and shoved them away in her backpack. She was trying to act rather cool about the situation but every bit of the lamia’s body was buzzing with excitement as she stood before another snake. Not a rattlesnake, sure, but damn it was a glorious sight to see. She looked up at the viper with a smirk, “Lotta space out here, any particular reason you’re trying to cozy up here with me?” 

It was her first hunt since returning to Wicked’s Rest, Isa now a little more comfortable with her movements in snake form than she had been before. It was amazing what a few months could do for a new lamia. Sure, she still had some trouble with her shifting but navigating her large body through a tight forest had become a rising source of confidence. So much so that she usually found herself racing through the expanse of trees without a care now, loving the feeling that came with weaving through the trees.

So, it came as a surprise when a woman came into view, Isa moving too quickly to try and keep herself hidden. Who was she kidding? She was too large to do that anyway. Stopping after realizing she’d startled the other, her head lift from the ground and turned towards her, hoping she wouldn’t scare the other even more.

But she wasn’t scared. Instead the woman looked at her with an air of amusement which took Isa by surprise. She was even more surprised when the woman spoke to her, the snake's head tilting as she studied the one closer to the ground. She knew of lamia, wasn’t scared of them at all it seemed, which meant so many things to the girl. “Um, I didn’t know you were out here. I’m sorry for almost bowling you over.” Her upturned nose moved closer to the woman, more out of curiosity than anything since she knew the other wouldn’t be scared. You could almost see the ghost of a smile pulling at Isa’s scales. “How did you know I could talk? I didn’t even know for a while.”

“You didn’t know I was out here?” Oh that was adorable. She was either new or just woefully untrained. It took a moment, but Anita recalled her conversation with Wyatt about some snake lamia he encountered, someone who was the first in their bloodline to turn - could this be the same woman? “Sure, I was crouched down, quiet, but I’m radiating all of this body heat,” she said as she gestured generally to her human form. After putting the rest of her things back in her pack, Anita zipped it up and put it on her back so she could dedicate her attention to the far more interesting situation that was occurring in front of her. 

Her eyes danced over the scales of the other lamia. She was absolutely stunning. The deep browns and soft tans of her overlapping scales falling into a criss-cross pattern, the slightly upturned nose, the slightly keeled scales around her head. She may not rattle, but Anita knew a fellow pitviper when she saw one. Genus bothrops, undoubtedly. Oh but what species was she? She was so consumed by her own thoughts, her own excitement, that she almost missed the question. “You didn’t try to talk? For how long? You just … didn’t even try?” Oh this poor, sweet, beautiful, pitviper. 

“Mi pequeña víbora…” Anita said with a soft and slightly concerned expression. “How new is this for you?” 

“Right, right, the body heat. I mean, I see it now.” Isa was embarrassed. She hadn’t met many people who knew much about lamia except for the gator in the woods. He’d seemed more offended about her views on this curse than anything so she hadn’t wanted to continue questioning him but this woman already seemed to be way more knowledgeable with this subject than Isa was. The snake didn’t miss the way the other eyed her, like she was beautiful in this form, and appreciation started to bubble up into what she could only describe as her chest. Oh, she wanted to know this woman. She needed to know this woman. 

She lowered her head to be more level with her, inching closer as if to tell the other that she could touch her if she wanted. “I didn’t think animals could talk so I thought that applied to me too.” She would have shrugged if she had arms to try and make it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. But that embarrassment kept multiplying. Isa didn’t really want to admit how long it took her to figure this part out. 

‘My little viper.’ Her whole body softened at those words. The tightness she’d felt coiling throughout was all but gone as she relaxed completely. It might have been foolish to put all of her trust into this perfect stranger but the affection those words held were enough for Isa to do so. “Almost two years.” She whispered the words, her head falling completely to the forest floor. “I should know more, shouldn’t I? I don’t know who did this to me and I don’t know anyone else who’s like this. I mean, I know one person but she’s not too interested in teaching me about it. She calls herself my mentor though…”

Two years? Anita’s heart, as cold as it was even in this form, sank slightly. How much of that time did the other lamia not even try to speak? How much of that time did she not understand all of the exceptional skills that she possessed? “A lot of people call themselves a lot of things in this world. You can call yourself anything - words are just words. Your mentor is clearly not mentoring. That is a shame.” If this was the same woman Wyatt had told her about, Isa, then she was the first of her lineage. Anita couldn’t imagine the loneliness that must accompany that. Even though she was so disconnected from her own nest, she knew that they were out there. 

Teacher at heart, and supporter of all lamia at her utmost core, Anita decided to offer an impromptu lesson. “Okay, okay. So, you know you can speak now. Brilliant. Out here in these woods, though, you really should be putting that heat vision to better use, mami.” Deciding not to shift yet, mostly to save that as a fun little treat for later, Anita continued. “So eventually you will learn how to identify different species by their temperatures - there are subtle differences for some but it’s notable if you pay attention. For now, just do a quick look all the way around us. I suspect there will be several small mammals, birds, maybe some larger game a bit further out. But take a look and tell me what you see.” 

Shame, embarrassment, regret, it all coursed through her as the other spoke. Isa so badly wanted someone in her life who would teach her the ins and outs of what she was that she had clung to her ‘mentor’ even while being neglected. This other person was right. Paula could call herself whatever she wanted but until the actions matched she wasn’t someone Isa should look up to. Seemed like common sense and yet she’d let it slide for too long. 

But here was this other woman offering assistance. The snake raised her head again, surprise joining the flurry of emotion when she realized that she was being offered help by this stranger. For a moment, she just stared at the woman, blinking to show that it had been unexpected, but she was eager enough to learn that she didn’t question the help. Looking around, she started to pay better attention to the infrared her reptilian eyes blessed her with. “I see a…fox, I think. It looks like a fox. A nest of birds to the left.” Isa paused, turning her head behind them to see what she had already passed without realizing. “There’s a couple of squirrels and maybe a raccoon that way.” She thought it was a raccoon…could have been a skunk though and she was sure she had missed a few things here and there as more signatures darted around in the periphery of her vision. “Yea, I wasn’t paying attention at all, was I?’

A promising student, Anita thought. She’d been around enough students by this point in her life to tell when someone was interested in learning, when someone was open to guidance. Maybe it would be nice to have someone to share her knowledge with. “I’m sure you were paying attention, but maybe not to the most important things.”

If she had been living in this town for two years without better use of her skills it would have been rather incredible if she hadn’t found herself in some dangerous situations yet. Or maybe she had, and slithered her way out of them. Lamia were quite resilient. “I’m Anita,” she offered with a warm smile. “A friend of mine mentioned a snake he met a little while back named Isa… I’ve got a feeling that might be you?” Anita knew it was possibly a mistake mentioning Wyatt, even off-handedly, since she wasn’t entirely positive how their interaction had gone. She figured that she had earned enough grace on her own to counteract any negative associations, though.

“This mentor you have, she’s not family I take it? Doesn’t seem like she seems particularly motivated to ensure you have proper survival skills. It’s a lot to try and figure out on your own, no?” 

Someone had mentioned her? She’d met a few people who knew about her at this point but the ‘he’ was the biggest tell. Somehow most of the ones that knew she could turn into a snake were women. “Did he happen to be a lamia too? An alligator?” Because she couldn’t quite remember his name at this point, the only thing coming to mind was Mistor Gator because of Maggie’s fondness. “He kind of showed me I could talk, actually. If that’s him, I mean. I am Isa though, you’re right about that.” She lowered so that she could nudge her nose against Anita’s hand, letting the woman know she was grateful for the guidance she had already given her. Even that one little tidbit was better than anything Paula had given her.

Speaking of, she shook her head at the woman’s question. “She’s just someone I happened to meet when I first started changing. I think she just didn’t want someone who couldn’t control her shifts running around and exposing us.” Which…Isa still couldn’t fully control them. She was fine with the little things most of the time but completely shifting back took some work. “I don’t really have a lot of family…at least none that are speaking to me.” She had Violet but her sister knew nothing about what she was even after Isa had lived with her for a few months. The older girl had enough to worry about when it came to her. “It is a lot.”

One of those heat signatures that Anita was just teaching her about moved near her left, a larger one that she hadn’t seen before. She turned her head just in time to see a man moving towards her, putting himself between the two of them. Not just a man, a threat. He was coming at her too aggressively for him to be friendly. She hissed, rearing back and ready to strike.

“That’s the one.” Anita replied with a bit of a smirk, there weren’t many of them but it was rather wonderful to have a growing number of lamia nearby. Especially ones who seemed open to the idea of community. She had met several lamia since leaving home that wanted to be solitary creatures, maybe Isa’s supposed mentor was one of those. Lamia together were stronger than lamia apart, that much she knew to be true. “He’s a character, for sure. But we have to stick together out here.” 

There it was again, another tug to Anita’s chest. Not having family that were speaking to her was something she could relate to just as intimately as she could relate to being a lamia. It was almost overwhelming, in fact. As alone as Anita felt being separated from her family, it was ultimately a choice that she had made and it was after growing up surrounded by the support and the training of how to be true to herself as the mojave rattlesnake while also keeping herself safe. She didn’t know how lost she would be in life if not for that foundation. 

Before Anita could say anything else, though, motion came out of nowhere and a man appeared before her and without turning his attention away from Isa called out to her, “It’ll be okay ma’am, step back!” Anger boiled up inside of her instantly. Anger at herself for not being more alert, for letting herself get distracted, for not shifting sooner - but mostly anger at this human posing a threat to her newfound friend. 

Her eyes darted towards Isa immediately as they shifted to their lamia form, done both as an indication to the other woman that she had her back and so that Anita could make sure there were no other people lurking around them. “Maybe you should step back. That’s a mighty big snake there, sir…,” she retorted with a sternness in her voice. The man didn’t flinch, however, and he didn’t dare turn his gaze away from Isa. 

As if to back up Anita’s words towards the man, Isa opened her mouth wide to showcase the long fangs she possessed. She didn’t want to hurt him but with his advance she knew that was where this was heading. The sad part? He thought he was protecting Anita from her. Could Isa really blame him for that? She was very large and very dangerous, a fact made clear as venom dripped from one of her fangs. Another warning. If he didn’t back off soon she was going to have to do the unthinkable and most likely murder this man. 

That made her pause. How unfair that he was trying to protect someone he thought was in danger only to put himself in that very danger he’d feared. She found Anita, almost as if asking the woman what she should do in this situation, only to see that her eyes had switched to something very recognizable. 

Another pause. She was lamia too? 

Of course she was. That made so much sense. She knew too much about what Isa was to not be involved in some way she just hadn’t realized it was because she was one herself. Again, she waited to see what would happen, looking for that guidance that Anita had been so willingly offering to her earlier because the last thing she wanted to do was hurt someone else. “I can handle it, trust me.” His voice reached her again causing Isa to crouch her head lower. She sent another hiss as a warning, trying her best to get him to back off. “Anita…what do I do?”

For a moment, Anita watched the other lamia, wondering what she would do with the clear threat facing her. Mouth open, fangs bared, venom dripping - it was all the ingredients necessary for a delicious meal. But the other pit-viper did not act. She did not strike even when there was room to do so. Instead she kept giving warnings. It was difficult for her to  figure out if she was nervous to kill the man generally or simply nervous to do so around Anita. 

Warnings only go so far, though. Your typical human might run off at the threat, sure. But a hunter? Who thinks that he is protecting someone from danger? Anita had encountered too many of them to know better. They do not back down until they are put down. 

When Isa asked Anita what to do, it became clear that she was not willing to do what was necessary. It also, unfortunately, tipped the hunter off that what he had come across was not quite what he had presumed. “Who the fuck is Anita?” He asked, starting to look around for other people. Sighing slightly, an unconscious sign of her slight disappointment, Anita let her own fangs shift out. Taking a step forward towards the hunter, giving a wink to Isa, she whispered in his ear, “I’m Anita.” 

Before he could react, though, her fangs were already plunged into the soft squishy skin of his neck and depositing a fatal amount of neuro and hemotoxic venom into his body. The body slid to the ground as the hunter began to lose all motor function and Anita stepped over it to go back over towards Isa. “In a way, he’s just taught you a critical key to survival. Never presume to know any situation you walk into. Never presume you know what the biggest threat is based solely on appearances.” 

The answer to her question was not the answer Isa had been hoping for. Slowly, her mouth closed as Anita’s fangs sunk into the man’s skin, eyes softening as much as they could as a snake while she watched the poison do its work. Taking a life had never been an option for Isa Caceres, especially after what she had gone through when most of the town thought she’d already killed Ruth, but Anita had done it so easily. But in all fairness, the woman had just stopped someone from killing one of her own…could she blame her for that? 

Maybe. It wasn’t like the man didn’t know that the snake wasn’t a danger. Most people when faced with something like Isa would probably have reacted the same way. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry with the other lamia. It wasn’t like that time with Mateo. She couldn’t have just walked away and let things go. This man had been determined even with the warnings he’d received. “I…how much of a threat could he have been?” But she knew. Even with teeth bared, Isa wouldn’t have made the move that she needed to in order to survive. She’d always thought of herself as one of those, a survivor, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Now she was afraid she would have to go through with something like that at least once in her lifetime. “How often does that happen? I don’t know of a lot of people are bold enough to go after someone as big as us.” Looking directly at Anita, trying her best to take her eyes away from the man on the ground, she knew she needed the woman now more than ever. Her mentor had taken her as far as she could, now it was time to move on to another if they were willing. “I think…I think I’m going to need your help with this. Like, more than just today.”

The naivete of the other lamia would have been cute if it didn’t also mean she was a risk to herself. Anita couldn't fault her too much, though. Isa wasn’t born into this life the way she had been, she didn’t understand how dangerous some humans could be because nobody ever properly taught her. It made her think about the first lamia in her family, Paloma, and she couldn’t help but wonder how lonely it must have been to be the first. That was the burden of a matriarch, though. 

“He was a hunter,” Anita said in response to the foolish question about how much of a threat the man could have been. “There are some who’s entire mission in life is to kill our kind, or others who are blessed with being not human. Like it or not, the bigger you are the more people who want to see you fall. It’s survival of the fittest, mi pequeña víbora.”  “Yes, that is quite apparent.” Anita responded, silently pleased that the other lamia was clearly willing to be receptive to her teachings. “But also not your fault. I cannot imagine how it must be to have gone through this transformation without real guidance. My family, well, I come from several generations of lamia. The way of our kind was ingrained in me since birth, lessons on survival. If you’re willing to learn - I’m willing to teach.” After all, what was better than one fearsome lamia? Two.

[awkwardcourage]

'' let’s get you cleaned up. '' - anita | @vyrulent

Hughie assumed that he had already taken care of all the blood before he'd left the tower to see Anita, but murder was a messy business, especially for the victim. "Oh. Shit. Uh, I-I'm sorry, I cleaned up before coming here, I swear."

[dirtwatchman]

PARTIES: @dirtwatchman and @gossipsnake TIME: Early August, directly after this thread. WHERE: Nichol's Funeral Home Cemetery SUMMARY:  Anita comes across Caleb in a compromising position. Much to Caleb's surprise, the lamia is more amused with him than anything. The two strike a deal. WARNINGS: Lots of murder talk, brain talk but not necessarily surgical or anything.

Why were people so afraid of cemeteries at night? Was it perhaps simply because they had seen too many scary movies where they were told to be afraid? The greatest threats facing humans did not lie underneath or behind tombstones. No, after themselves, humans greatest threat was those above them on the food chain. And despite what their beloved monster movies told them, those threats were not limited to graveyards. 

Tonight, however, there was such a threat luring about in one of the local graveyards. But Anita was not on the prowl for a meal; she had her sights set on a much smaller treasure - the beautiful cornucopia of graveyard bugs. Back home in her greenhouse, Anita had a large array of decaying specimens being fed on by a variety of native beetles and their larvae. While people typically did not allow themselves to decompose naturally with the soil in graveyards it was still quite rich. 

Keeping up with the obituaries, which was becoming quite impossible in this town, Anita saw that there would be a funeral the next morning. She knew enough to know that meant a grave had been dug the night before and fresh soil would have been piled up for her to sift through. She planned on doing just that as she walked through the grounds towards the expected open grave. But as she approached, she heard the distinctive till of shovel and dirt. That didn’t seem right, the grave should have been dug hours ago. Making sure to be quiet and not give herself away, she approached the sounds cautiously, unsure what she had come across. 

He should have started on burying this body sooner, listened to the voice in his head telling him to hurry, but Caleb had gotten lost in the whole deserving nice words and a proper burial thing. After kicking the body into the grave the zombie had felt so bad about it that he was now redigging the hole to try and do things properly. No throwing someone in the grave like they didn’t matter, no crying from someone who didn’t even know them, just a proper little funeral with music playing from his phone. They were dead though, who cared? Apparently, he did.

“You’re so stupid…” The words mumbled under his breath would have been lost had he been anywhere else but the silence that the dead brought with them revealed every syllable, every self deprecating comment he was saying allowed. It was spurring his movements forward, making his limbs work faster as anger started to build within him. “Why the hell do you care so much? Why can’t you let it go? Just let it freaking go, Caleb.”

And yet he was still redigging the grave for the second time that night, sifting the soil more and more. The thud of the shovel hitting the casket was the first clue that the body was just under this layer and he used the edge of it to sift through until he found one of the person’s arms. Caleb stood to his full height, moving to set the shovel off to the side but froze when he saw a woman standing above him. Oh, curse his damn hearing. Of course he would uncover the extra body just before realizing someone else was there. Why wouldn’t that be a thing?

“Um…it’s not what it looks like.”

As she crept closer to the digging noise, Anita wasn’t entirely sure what she would be interrupting. Was this some strange grave robber, looking for jewels tossed into the casket of some old lady? Or was this perhaps someone trying to cover their tracks. All of the possibilities she was considering tended to skew towards danger. She didn’t necessarily mind that, might make the evening far more interesting than she expected it to be. 

“Oh, really? So you aren’t digging up the grave of someone who has clearly already been buried?” His reasoning for doing so remained a mystery, one she was eager to solve. Anita didn’t know how long he had been out there but the few swings of the shovel that she had seen tended to suggest this wasn’t his first rodeo. There was a slightly disheveled look to the man as she peered down at him but she couldn’t tell if that was his usual demeanor or if it was a byproduct of the digging. 

“If it’s not what it looks like, then please, educate me as to what it is I’m looking at here.” He was lucky, really, that she was the one who stumbled upon him. Others may have jumped to conclusions, involved the authorities, or simply run away screaming. Anita was at least willing to listen. 

“...No?” Technically that wasn’t the truth because it wasn’t their grave, it was Mrs. Darcy’s. The zombie wracked his brain for any possible explanation that could dissuade her into believing that he was just doing his job but the body wasn’t even in a casket so she’d most likely see right through that lie. How did he get out of this? His mind was racing, Caleb staying silent as every possible way this conversation could go ran through it. In the end, he could not think of a way to make her believe any lies that alluded to his innocence so he started to try and prepare for the pleading that was about to come. 

“Technically it’s not their grave…It’s Mrs. Darcy’s. I just buried them with her earlier.” His cooler was still sitting on the side of the grave since he had no sense to take it back to his truck after the other person had come along. He’d been so worried about hiding the body that the other evidence of his transgressions was still laying out clear as day. His eyes ran over it before he looked back up at the woman. “Look, you can go to the cops, but I really don’t think you should. It might not be good for anybody. Just…let me explain, I guess.” 

Would this be the one of the first people to finally know what he was? There was only one other at the time, someone who had the same undead affliction as him which made it so much easier to tell her. As much as he didn’t want to tell a complete stranger that he was only doing this to keep people safe he had the inkling that they wouldn’t believe him. Not unless they could understand Caleb’s situation. There was no way of knowing if she would but she hadn’t run yet, hadn’t made a fuss, all she wanted was his reasonings for doing what he was doing.

“Um…I’m trying to feed myself.” He wouldn’t look at her, his eyes going to the dirt and the arm sticking out of it. “And others. But when I was, you know, doing that, someone came along and saw…” Caleb nodded towards the cooler that held the brain of Mrs. Darcy before he continued. “One thing led to another and…they didn’t have a very good time.” How crazy did this person think he was? If they had no clue about the supernatural in this town then he was screwed. 

The long silence after his half-hearted no was almost entertaining to Anita. Over the years she had learned how to be quick with her lies, staying ahead of any allegations of impropriety by diverting attention elsewhere. This grave digging possible murderer didn’t have any of that savvy. It therefore shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was when he admitted to having buried the corpse in someone else's grave. Her mouth opened slightly as her thick eyebrows raised up in surprise, “Oh…” 

Anita’s eyes followed his as they looked around the gravesite. There was so much going on, creating quite a long list of options as to what this man was up to. “Is that a threat?” She snapped instinctively at his comment that calling the cops wouldn’t be good for anyone. It didn’t matter to her that she had no intention of calling anyone, let alone the cops. “Fine. Explain.” Squatting down so that she could get a better look at the man and the dead body, Anita began to wonder if this man was a run-of-the-mill human killer or if there was more going on. 

Her question, seemingly, was quickly answered as he began to explain. Trying to feed himself and others. It was interesting, given how obviously sloppy his techniques were. Whatever he was -  probably undead, likely a zombie given the obvious brain in the cooler - he seemed to be new at it. If he was feeding others, did that make him the most experienced in food retrieval? That would be sad if it were true. 

Feeling the slightest pang of compassion for the non-human, Anita decided not to have a bit of fun with the situation. Instead she opted to at the very least be non combative. Whether or not she elected to be helpful was yet to be determined. “You’re making an awful big mess. Not a good look if you’ve got others relying on you for food.” She dropped down, sitting on the edge of the grave and letting her legs dangle over the edge. “I know everyone thinks that getting rid of a body in another grave is such a genius idea… but there are actually much more effective ways to do it.”

 “Definitely not a threat, at least not towards you anyway.” No, he was worried about what might happen if he was locked up for a long period of time, certain that cops didn’t know anything about zombies roaming around here. They were bigger morons than Caleb was. “More of a warning. Consequences of not having the right food suck and I don’t want to hurt anyone else. Even the police.” It was bad enough that he’d murdered two people in his lifetime, the first being someone he tried not to blame himself for. The guy had killed him first, anyway. But this person…this person hadn’t deserved it at all and the guilt that came with it was already eating him alive. Or, well, dead.

“I mean, I thought it was pretty brilliant considering how convenient it is-” As soon as he realized what she’d said, Caleb cut himself off, his head snapping up. “Wait, what?” He hadn’t even noticed how unnormal this conversation was, used to being chastised for any actions he took throughout his life, but after it had really hit him he was stunned. Was this woman really not freaking out after finding him with a dead body that clearly didn’t belong there and an open cooler with a brain? Who the hell was she?

“I’m sorry are you…are you trying to give me tips on how to cover up a body?” Ever since he’d started working for this funeral home he’d encountered such strange things in the cemetery but he’d never had anyone talk about this so nonchalantly before. Why was he surprised though? This town was crawling with people who needed his services, crawling with other people who needed special diets. He wouldn’t be surprised if Wicked’s Rest was the murder capital of the United States in a few years time. 

There were many questions that came with this realization. What was she? How many people had she actually killed? Did she enjoy it or did every single murder weigh on her mind like Caleb? His wide eyes bore into her before acceptance started to kick in and he nodded slowly. “Okay, so what are you suggesting then?”

It was almost cute how stunned the kid seemed to be when he seemed to realize that he wasn’t the only killer in the cemetery. Had she not stumbled upon him in such a compromised state she might not have been so forthcoming with the conversation, but this was just too delicious to pass up. “Yeah, I am. Cause you so obviously need them.” Anita looked down at him and the dead body and shrugged softly. “Sure, this isn’t a bad place to get rid of your leftovers. Better than tossing the corpse in the ocean or digging a grave in the forest - but is it the best option? No.”

Gesturing from the shovel he was holding towards the mound of dirt beside where she was sitting, Anita continued, “How often do you have to eat? And how often are you willing to spend your nights digging paupers graves? Surely you must have thought about whether all of that physical work is worth it. I know your kind doesn’t tire out but … anyone could stumble upon you in the hours it takes to do all this.” 

As she looked around Anita noticed a carrion beetle crawling in the freshly dug grave. She picked it up in her hand, she smirked a bit at the apt analogy that the earth had handed her. “One thing that humans are so well known for is how much waste they create. No other ecosystem of creatures wastes so much of what is provided to them.” In a slow action so that he could see what she was doing, Anita popped the beetle in her mouth and ate it. “Don’t you think just burying all this meat is … a bit wasteful?” 

It was surreal, really. Standing in the middle of a grave where Caleb was hiding a body while a woman he’d never met was trying to tell him how to do a better job seemed like it was straight from a bad B grade movie and yet this was his real life. He wanted to say he’d really fallen far from grace but he’d never really been that high up in the first place. Still, she didn’t have the full picture either. She didn’t know how convenient this actually was for him and she wasn’t aware that this part of the kill was also part of his daily job. For some reason he felt like defending his way of…disposal but he wasn’t sure if that was the best idea until he watched her eat a beetle to really drive the point she was making. Most people would have cringed or made a face but he’d lived on animal brains for a few months before moving on to the humans his body had so craved. Who was he to judge?

“Actually…this is my normal job. I work for the cemetery so I’m always digging graves. Normally I have an excavator handy but I didn’t want my boss to know I’d taken it out tonight.” He was still out in the open with nothing but a shovel that night, and she had walked into the situation by chance, so he saw her point. He looked down at the arm that was sticking out of the dirt again and sighed. “On a good week, I only need one brain. That’s excluding any weeks that I get hurt. But…I try to take care of others too so I’ve been taking more than I need.” 

The woman was right. Burying the bodies was a waste. Caleb knew so many zombies that had accepted what they were and loved different parts of the body. Yes, the brains were the best for their hunger, but some had preferences for their meals between those brains. It had always seemed so crude to him but maybe it was time to go full blown with this business instead of half-assing everything. And apparently zombies weren’t the only ones who needed sustenance around here. “Do you…are you wanting the rest of this body after I take the brain? The brain in the cooler is from the person this grave actually belongs to.” Was he making a business deal right now? In the middle of this chaos?

Oh that was quite curious, Anita thought. A zombie working at a cemetery. She wondered which came first, the transformation or the job. Though, given how new he seemed at the zombie thing and how adept he seemed at digging graves… maybe he had just always been drawn to death. “Interesting. Do you not have access to an incinerator then? Or do you only deal with the stiffs people want to bury, not burn at your job?” 

“Others? Why can they not fend for themselves?” It wasn’t uncommon, she understood, for certain species to flock together. After all back home in Mexico, Anita’s family lived as a unified lamia nest. They looked after their own and made sure that the family thrived. “Surely one brain doesn’t feed you all.” 

The proposal was, practically, a natural progression of the implication Anita had been making but it wasn’t exactly the one she had been setting up. Playing up a fake air of offense, Anita placed her hand to her chest, “Do I look like the kind of woman who eats someone’s sloppy seconds? I don’t do clean up.” She greatly preferred her meals to be very warm, very live, and a bit terrified when she sank her fangs into them. “I was just saying there are other ways. There are some people who might enjoy what you’re leaving to the bugs. Some people who don’t have the time, skill, or patience to hunt for themselves.” She paused, something in her deciding to be generous. “Or maybe the other way around. I don’t always need the heads, anyway.” 

Caleb cleared his throat before answering her question, glad that he could say it out loud without the tears welling up in his eyes again. That would have been more embarrassing than being caught in the act of a burial. “This is…my first murder. I’ve always dealt with the bodies that come into the morgue when the person is already long gone over killing someone who still has time.” The idea was a good one, one that he would keep in the back of his mind if he didn’t have any way of disposing of any future bodies, but he didn’t really want this happening again. “And I don’t plan to do anymore murdering either. This was an accident that shouldn’t have happened.”

Leaning back against the other side of the grave, the zombie decided to settle in. It seemed like this was going to be a long conversation. She wanted to understand his methods, where he was coming from, and if he were being honest, it felt good to talk about it with somebody. He wasn’t bottling it up anymore, and with the floodgates of truth already opened he was willing to give so much more despite something telling him that he should still be cautious. “It’s more of a business deal than anything. I saw the opportunity to make extra funds on the side and I went for it. But I do also like to believe that I’m helping the community as a whole while doing this. If zombies don’t get fed…well, could you imagine the chaos?” 

He actually smirked with her next question. It was a little worrisome that the panic he’d held all night was starting to melt away enough for Caleb to become amused and yet there he was, ready to laugh at the thoughts going through his mind. “I get more than one brain a week…you know where we live right? As sad as it is to say, bodies flood to the funeral home on a daily basis almost.” 

Why is it that he felt bad for offending someone who he knew ate human flesh? Yes, he did the same, but he hated himself for it so why didn’t he hate anyone else who did it as well? Especially when they preferred them live? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I didn’t know you preferred them live.” Caleb hung his head, almost as if wounded, and started to stare at the lifeless arm as punishment to his own psyche. He was almost amazed at how quickly he’d come to want this person’s approval. The proposal had him looking up in surprise again, the idea making the zombie feel torn. Did he want to encourage actually murdering people? Was he really in a position to turn down the brains of those who were going to still end up dead anyway? “...What do you want in return?”

“Your first murder? How quaint.” It was such an adorable thought that Anita smirked a bit. She didn’t even think she could recall her first murder. Her attention turned back to the situation at hand when the zombie expressed a desire to not commit further murders - a concept that was so foreign it practically didn’t even make sense to her. “So you accidently killed this man for his brain?” Moreso due to self-preservation than anything else, she was beginning to feel slightly suspicious of them. She did not understand his motivations and therefore could not trust her instincts. 

Her suspicions eased a bit when he called his fellow brain eaters his community - at least he wasn’t one of those people who likened themselves to humanity more than their own species. “How did you meet your community? Is the one who turned you part of that group?” To Anita, that was not an invasive question because she couldn’t think of why anyone would not want to talk about the miracle of ridding oneself of their humanity. “As much as I agree that we all need to eat…I’ve never turned my nose up at a bit of chaos either.” 

His smile as they continued talking gave her a bit more hope. People who couldn’t see some kind of joy in eating weren’t people Anita generally interacted with. “So these other zombies, they pay you to deliver them brains?” When he hung his head, Anita couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed because of her pretend offense or if it was because he felt some type of way about the idea of her consuming such fresh meals. “Have you ever tried a nice fresh brain?” 

It was evident that he was business-minded when he asked what Anita would want in return for delivery of some fresh juicy substantia grisea. The question seemed to come in spite of his internal concerns rather than out of a genuine curiosity. “I don’t know. I don’t mean to offend, but I doubt there is much you have that I would want.” Maybe simply having a Zombie who worked at the funeral home owe her a favor would be a good enough reward. “We can call it a favor, perhaps. An I-O-U.” 

“No…I was digging up Mrs. Darcy for her brain when the person came along and saw me…just like you did. I didn’t actually mean to kill them, I just wanted to stop them but their head hit another marker when I pushed them.” It sounded so pathetic when Caleb said it out loud. What kind of zombie was he? Not a good one, that’s for sure. “Then I buried him to hide the body but forgot I could use his brain and then started to dig him up again.” And that just made it so much worse. He was a loser even in the afterlife, wasn’t he? 

That was the question, wasn’t it? The one who made it possible to be what he was, the person who attacked him when he was doing maintenance in the morgue…the one he hadn’t been able to find since. Caleb hadn’t gotten a good look at his face since he was so close to death so he’d never been able to recognize if he was serving them brains or not. “I was getting so many brains I wasn’t able to eat them all before they got gross in the freezer so I figured I could help out others. Anytime I met a zombie I would offer to sell them some. Then they started recommending friends and it just snowballed from there. I don’t know who made me what I am, I never got a good look that night. We’re quick when we’re hungry.”

The flood of information was really flowing. He had never realized how hard it was not to talk about this with someone before now. Everything was spilling out before he could even think about it and it felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders got lighter and lighter with each word. Knowing that she was in for chaos didn’t even deter him. “Exactly. It’s like Uber for the dead. I want to make life easier for myself if I’m going to do this. I’m the one taking most of the risk.” 

That was the first question to really get under his skin though whether that was because he was offended or because his body was having some sort of reaction to the memory was yet to be seen. He’d had fresh brains once. “So, remember when I said this was my first murder? Technically not true but I don’t count the first one because he murdered me first. Zombies can go years with the infection without turning but once they die they become one. I was killed by a graverobber with my own shovel. So when I woke up in my zombie state and killed him for his brain I didn’t feel bad afterwards.” That was a lie and Caleb knew it. He’d felt awful afterwards but years of telling himself otherwise had done the trick. “So, yea, I’ve had them fresh once.”

That was fair. He wasn’t rich, couldn’t offer her the brains that she obviously didn’t need, and he had no supernatural abilities until he was in a frenzied state so what could he really offer? An owed favor wasn’t what he’d expected and he couldn’t say it didn’t make him nervous. Caleb didn’t know what she was and she’d already admitted to fresh kills being her preference so she didn’t have any qualms about hurting people. He might come to regret it later but he found himself answering with three words. “It’s a deal.”

Oh he was a curious little zombie, that was for sure. Anita found it so interesting how willing he was to just keep talking, keep telling her things that other beings would keep locked away tight. Sure, she had established some good faith between them - but he clearly wasn’t concerned enough about those who might be in the know that would want to hurt him. All she had done was speak words to him and seemed to earn a fair amount of trust. Through the course of the conversation, she had been able to learn far more about him than she personally would have given away to a stranger in a graveyard. Notably, she didn’t give away nearly as much to him. 

“Sorry you were murdered. But, hey! Look at you now.” Some in the non-human community felt a kinship with all who lacked humanity, but Anita was usually a bit more exclusive with where she placed her alliances. This gravedigging zombie was interesting, however, and while she certainly did not trust him she was intrigued. “It’s a brutal world out here. Sounds like it’s definitely time to rethink how often you’re out here digging and un-digging graves given all the murders that keep happening when you do,” she smirked as her eyes widened a bit, playing up the pretend drama of the situation. “Just thankful you didn’t try to murder me. For your sake.” 

Jumping up from where she was sitting and dusting the dirt off of her backside Anita looked back down into the partially dug up grave, “Well alright. You got a name, mijo?” She asked as she pulled out a business card from her wallet, which had been tucked away in her jacket pocket. She had no intention of going out of her way to procure food for him but Anita was curious about just how mutually beneficial this relationship might be able to become. Tossing the card, which only had a phone number printed on it, Anita smirked down at him. “Give me a call when you’re feeling peckish.”

[longislandcharm]

SETTING: Prickly Pear TIMING: Current PARTIES: Winter (@longislandcharm) and Anita (@gossipsnake) SUMMARY: Winter and Anita end up defending the farm from some of the attackers, both relying on each other to get through it. Well...Winter relying more so on Anita anyway. WARNINGS: None

For all her love of science and observation, Anita also loved -  nearly equally -  action and violence. But for all of the times she had been involved in any fights none of them were anything truly comparable to what was happening around her at Prickly Pear Acres. This was more than just standard violence it was practically a massacre. She had lost all of the familiar faces she knew from the party long ago, no real sense of where Monty or Felix, or hell, even Kaden had gone off to. Felix knew how to fight, she had told herself, even if they did not like it in the way that she did they could defend themself. 

But the barns were all on fire now, in varying levels of intensity, and it seemed like the attackers had their sights set on the main farmhouse. Anita could see the writing on the walls, there was no stopping what these hunters had planned for the night. All she could really hope to do was take down as many of them as she could before making her escape. Looking for her next snack, Anita spotted a woman who looked a bit familiar. Maybe someone who was at the party earlier? There was someone approaching her, so Anita decided to head towards them to provide assistance, if needed. 

When Winter had hoped for something to spark more life into this party she hadn’t been asking for pure chaos. “Careful what you wish for.” Henry’s scared words sounded next to her as her wide eyes searched for the people she had lost after all hell broke loose. She couldn’t find Mack, she couldn’t find Charlie, and she couldn’t even find Finn. All she saw was fire and brimstone as shifters, zombies, and everyone in between ran into action to defend the farm around them. 

The frantic sounds of scared animals, yells of people, roars of shifters all cut through the fear that had paralyzed her, rooting her to her spot. She couldn’t stand feeling this weak anymore. She hated more than anything that she had to rely on others in these moments of terror and Winter decided right then and there that she was done running from this. Too many times she had let her fear consume her, rendering her useless. Not this time. The girl was ready to fight back for once. “Someone’s coming up behind you.” Henry’s panicked voice threw her into action, her hands reaching out for the closest thing she could use to defend herself and wrapping around the handle of a pitchfork leaning against the enclosure she was near. 

The sharp ends of the tool were embedded into the man's chest within moments, her eyes widening once more when she realized what she had done. He was staring at her in shock, as if he knew she wasn’t anything special and couldn’t comprehend how she had gotten the better of him. But she panicked despite that, not knowing what to do now that they were skewered on the one thing had to defend herself. “Oh shit…” The whispered words sent a smile to the man’s lips as he realized she didn’t know what to do next. His hand started to pull at the pitchfork embedded in him. Before he could get the tool out of his chest though Winter caught movement behind him. There was a very large snake heading towards them, a lamia she guessed. All she could do was hope that this reptile was a friend and not a foe as she pressed against the pitchfork and started pushing the man back towards the snake. Even if it were on the other side maybe it would want a snack.

As he slithered over towards the other woman, Anita was not entirely sure that she was going to make it over to her before the hunter trying to attack her did. And, she didn’t. But that evidently wasn’t all that big of a problem given the girl’s quick instincts. “Skewered hunter. I love it. I think every summer barbeque should have this as an activity.” Her comment was as ill-timed as her arrival though, as the penetration did not kill the man and the woman didn’t seem to know what to do next. But that confusion seemed only momentary as the woman, whom Anita now recognized in closer proximity, pushed the skewered person in her direction. 

Taking the action as an invitation and not a threat, Anita began to open her mouth wide as she continued forward. It was a bit of a strange angle, but eating this hunter was not unlike eating a large portion of lengua off a fork. The lamia swallowed him whole but not before incapacitating him with some venom on the way down. She looked over at the woman who had fed her, feeling quite content with herself, and tried to remember her name. Some season. Summer? No. “Now, Winter, if you wanted to take me out for dinner all you had to do was ask. No need for theatrics.” Anita had never looked into a mirror while trying to wink in her lamia form, so she didn’t know exactly how the action translated, but she attempted a wink nonetheless. 

“That was quite an appetizer. But I think it might be time for the main course. What do you say?” Noting several other heat signatures starting to surround them, Anita grinned, maintaining eye contact with Winter. With a quick, forceful, flick of her tail she knocked down the closest approaching person and kept her tail pressing down on top of his head until she heard a delicate cracking sound and his feet stopped flailing around. She then turned away from Winter, and began to take survey of just how many people were approaching. It wasn’t awful. “Two fast approaching, on your left.” 

This was the singular most horrifying yet fascinating thing Winter had ever witnessed. Watching a giant snake swallow a human hunter whole as he screamed was not on her Wicked’s Rest bingo card but she would take it if it meant she wasn’t about to be stabbed to death by a deranged asshole. Eyes wide and stuck on the snake, they only got wider when the snake called her out by name and then…winked? Was a snake flirting with her right now? How did it know her name? The voice sounded as familiar as it could sound coming from a reptile but she couldn’t place it at the moment, not with her mind racing like it was.

Main course. Right. There were more of them coming in fast and she was suddenly grateful that this snake apparently thought she was worthy enough to fight with her. She kept her eyes on her, nodding her head gently as she steeled herself for what was coming. She watched the lamia take out another person, confidence in this teamup growing with each second. Even if she knew she was the weakest link here she found herself starting to smile. With this woman on her side Winter was as good as safe.

Both the snake and Henry pointed out the two coming up on her left, the voice mixing as they spoke at the same time, and she turned to blindly push the pitchfork out towards them. It stuck the first one in the gut and she put the weight of her body against the handle to push it further in, their body moving back towards the other until she had impaled them as well. They both cried out but Winter wasn’t deterred. She pushed on the side of the handle as hard as she could to turn them towards the lamia, both of them struggling but too shocked to fight too hard against her. “Two more coming at you!”

Anita liked having an audience, she liked showing off. Even though she didn’t quite know what was sparking the smile on Winter’s face she decided to take credit for it. After all, violence was thrilling and this was violence for the sake of heroism - the most socially acceptable form there is. Unlike the barn she had just come from, their current position was rather exposed. Attackers could come at them from nearly any angle and while the lamia’s heightened senses generally prevented any of them from having the element of surprise that didn’t mean that they couldn’t overpower the two women with a show of numbers. 

Finishing off the two men impaled on the pitchfork, Anita swallowed their torsos and then discarded the remainder of their lifeless bodies off to the side. For as much as she joked about her stomach being a never ending pit the laws of physics did in fact apply to her. As someone else tried to rush at her from behind, Anita quickly dropped low and sunk her fangs into his leg letting the potent neurotoxin that she released into his body take care of him. 

“Where did everyone else go?” Anita asked as she moved so that she was positioned slightly behind Winter, positioned so that between the two of them they had a full 360-degree view of the surrounding area. “They’re splitting up. One coming at your right, one at mine, and one … not even sure that fucker’s zig-zagging all over the place.” 

“Hmm, might have scared them off. Those teeth are terrifying.” Still couldn’t resist a quip aimed at others even in positions like this. She’d learned that with Wyatt, learned it with the mugger at Christmas, apparently she was destined to run that mouth of hers. But Winter had spoken too soon, the girl raising the tool in her hand again as a few others started to converge on them. “Okay, well I guess intelligence isn't their strong suit.” Raising her voice, she gave the one coming up on her a sarcastic smile. “I would have ran if I were you.” 

She hesitated for a second, knowing that the giant snake was preoccupied with her own opponent…or opponents (where the hell was that other guy going?). But she took in a deep breath, yelled as she ran towards the asshole, and winced just a little as the guy was impaled. Up until this point, she hadn’t really been the murderer in this situation, Winter had only contributed to the snake's violence. But this time one of the prongs had gone straight through the guy’s heart after the adrenaline coursing through her aided in pushing the thing in even harder. Winter watched, breathing heavily, as the guy's eyes went dim and he slumped against the pitchfork. She couldn’t hold him up anymore so her hands released the handle and he fell forward at her feet.

There was no time to wallow in the heavy feeling that took over. Arms wrapped around her middle, picking her up as her feet kicked wildly trying to find the right target. Henry was shouting and trying his best to pry the man’s hands away from her but the ghost could only hold his grip for so long before his fingers would disappear into the man’s skin. “Get off me, you prick!” 

Her elbow went flying behind her, Winter’s good fortune allowing it to connect with the man’s nose and draw blood. His already loose grip wavered and she wrenched herself free, falling to her knees. “Here!” She looked over at Henry’s shout, watching the ghost with wide eyes as he gripped onto a fallen piece of loose board in the fence long enough to throw it towards her. She grabbed a hold of it, got to her feet, and slammed the board against the already dizzy man. His body fell back, out cold. 

Adrenaline still prominent, she found the snake with ease, noticing that she was already done with her prey and watching her intently. “You could have helped!” But relief was still filling her as she realized that was the last of the goons. “What the fuck is going on? Why are they attacking this place?”

Anita didn’t know exactly what was going on behind her, but from the sounds she could hear someone was being impaled. She only hoped it was Winter doing the impaling again and not the other way around. She had her own fight to win though, so she didn’t have time to turn around and check. The attacker that stormed towards her wasn’t human. It was another species traitor. The fae had let their glamour dissipate shortly after Anita made the first strike. It was frustrating, to say the least. 

Not only did she not understand why the farm was being attacked, not really - not beyond typical supernatural bigotry, she really did not understand why there were shifters and fae fighting alongside these human hunter monsters. Whatever deference Anita had for other non-human species went out the window the moment they decided to attack her, though. “Hit me with your worst,” she taunted. “Cause I think we both know it simply won’t be enough to save your pathetic ass.” 

The fight was almost enjoyable to the lamia. It was like a graceful dance, both she and the fae moving with swift precision. They were moving fast and Anita wass having a hard time sinking her teeth into them. Every time she went in for the kill the fae managed to move aside just in time and she wound up biting down on empty air. There had to be a pattern in the movement, she thought, and if there was one then she would find it. 

She decided to keep the fae distracted with her fangs, relentlessly nipping at and around them to try and keep them from noticing what her tail was up to. To Anita’s pleasure, it was working. The fae was so focused on avoiding the rattlesnake’s fangs that it didn’t notice the tail getting into position to wrap around it. Constriction wasn’t Anita’s primary method of murder, she wasn’t built for it in the same way a python or a boa were, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t do it. By the time the fae realized what was happening, Anita’s tail was wrapped tightly around their torso and continuing to squeeze. “Tsk tsk tsk, never take your eye off the target, estúpido.” 

After finishing the creature off, Anita turned back to see that Winter was still standing. “I had my own shit to deal with, thank you very much!” Looking around, it seemed like most people had fled. Maybe it was time for them to do the same. As much as Anita enjoyed all the killing she had done that evening, and as much as she enjoyed Monty’s company, she was not willing to sacrifice herself for this farm. “I don’t know why this is happening. But, I think that we should maybe take lead from what everyone has clearly done and … get the fuck out of here before it’s too late.” 

“Yea…yea, you’re right.” Her hands shook slightly as she looked around the burning farm once again, the heat from the fire indicating that they were too close to the flames for comfort. Henry was gesturing towards where the cars were parked but could she leave without knowing where her friends were? Finn and Charlie were human like her, they were just as vulnerable as she was to all of this. Mack was a little less so but she had already been through so much that the medium hoped that her friend was safe somewhere. Winter didn’t know what to do. She was so torn with the decision but Henry wasn’t. “Go get the car, Winter!” She looked towards the snake again, realizing she would be more safe in that form than transforming so she could get inside Winter’s car as well, and nodded at her. “Thanks for the team up. I don’t think I would have made it otherwise.” Then she took off while wondering who the hell had just helped save her life. Lamias were a different breed. One tried to kill her and one was the reason she made it through this literal hell. How the hell was she supposed to feel about them now?

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Denver (farm hand NPC) & Anita (@gossipsnake) SUMMARY: Denver is trying to save some sheep when he gets attacked. Anita comes to help, but the farm hand turns on her after taking too much damage. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gun use

—

It was more than just the flames that had Anita seeing red. For apathetic as the lamia often was, particularly about those she did not know very well, there was nothing that enraged her sense of injustice more than hunters and humans trying to assert dominance over the supernatural world. That had to be what this attack was. There would undoubtedly be time later to figure all of that out, time for thought opposed to action, but right now Anita had tunnel vision. 

When the flames broke out almost everyone dispersed in different directions. Some seemed to be selfishly fleeing while others clearly thought of the animals on the farm before themselves. Anita watched for a moment, her head on a swivel trying to spot both familiar and suspicious faces as the crowd became more and more chaotic. It was the screams, rather than the faces, that drew her attention towards the one barn. As her attention turned she could see that fighting had erupted and without hesitation she took off towards the barn, the panicked baaaas of the sheep inside growing louder as she got closer. 

As she approached the barn, some of the farmers that she had seen at the party were trying desperately to get the animals out, but they were being halted by a group of whom Anita presumed to be hunters. It was a bit hard to tell who was on what side of the fight, but she figured once she shifted it would be easy to tell undead from un-undead. “Puta madre…” she huffed in annoyance as she started to shift into the rattlesnake, “I really liked this dress.” 

—

Leaving his brother (something he did not do lightly, but they had different jobs to accomplish), Denver had made for the barns where he could faintly hear the poor animals in a panic. Assuming this was another round of assholes come to slaughter the creatures, Denver and his co-workers were caught off guard when the people that had set the fire were still there, with weapons, and attacking them. Denver reeled back and out of the way of a large blade that swung in his direction, which was stupid of the person wielding it because they would never be tall enough to get Denver in the head with it. He growled furiously, grabbing them by the head with one hand and throwing them against the side of the barn before pushing his way inside. 

The sheep were climbing all over each other to try and get away from the flames, and some of them had already fallen to the fire. With a twisted knot in his gut, Denver kicked open the first gate, shouting at the animals as they poured out of their long pen and into the walkway, scattering from there. He went to another gate and kicked that one open too, having no time or patience for the latches. Sheep swarmed him, nearly bowling him over in their desperate flight. He didn’t hear the click over the cacophony, and barely registered as a round ripped through his shoulder. He might not even have noticed, if not for the blood that ran down his arm and slicked his hand. Confused, the farm hand turned around to see a stranger aiming a gun at him. The stranger had… weird eyes, and was very obviously not human. She sneered at him, then fired again. Denver took another hit, this time directly in the chest. “Idiot,” he snarled,  ignoring her to instead kick in the final gate, though most of the animals that had been in this pen were already motionless on the ground. He scooped up the one nearest to him as the rest ran past, noting that her sides were still rising and falling. When he turned to leave, that stupid fucking woman was still standing there, looking pissed. Denver returned the expression, the sheep clutched to his broad chest. “You want your head caved in, or what?” he asked bluntly, moving toward her. She took a step back, aimed again, and fired. 

Everything went dark, and the zombie crumpled to the floor of the barn with the sheep still in his arms.  

—

She had heard some other shifters describe the process of turning into their truer form to be painful but that was never how it felt to Anita. Everything about it felt beautiful and comfortable - less like she was transforming into something that was “other” and more like she was shedding away the disguise of the other being. In moments of urgency she didn’t have time to savor the feeling of the soft, pink flesh transforming into the protective greens, browns, and tans of her scales. It was difficult to tell exactly what was going on inside the barn, engulfed in flames that grew by the second. (Farms were sort of a natural fire hazard; all the hay.) It wasn’t long before it was apparent that fire was not the only weapon being employed. The gunshots echoed in the lamia’s head, the sound becoming almost overwhelming by the time she had transformed completely. 

In full form, Anita rushed towards the barn with just enough time to see another shot be fired and one of Monty’s farmhands collapse onto the ground. There was something off about it all, something confirmed when the woman who had fired the gun turned towards her. Instinctively, Anita began to rattle, though she doubted that it struck much fear into the person in front of her. Not human. Curious. “You know, just because you might be the black sheep of your family or whatever, doesn’t mean that you need to be so literal in your rebellion.” 

Her eyes fell down to the zombie on the floor for a moment, wondering if he was going to move again. In that time, the non-human asshole took aim at Anita and fired off two consecutive rounds. The shots stung, but with her scales providing protection they did little more than had they hit someone with a bullet proof vest on. Nevertheless, enraged by the act of betrayal, Anita swiftly lunged forward and sunk her fangs into the woman’s thigh, releasing a lethal dose of venom as she punctured the skin. 

As the woman began to fall to the ground, the grip on her gun released, dropping it to the ground. Anita smashed her tail down on top of it, rendering the device useless with one motion. But she hadn’t been the only attacker nor was she the only one with weapons and several of them were starting to approach the barn. 

—

As the world came back into focus, it lacked color and sharpness. Dull grays and browns and reds were all he could make out, the shapes of things sort of blobby and confusing. His thoughts were muddy, not clearing as he pushed the wooly lump off his chest and got slowly to his feet. A sound escaped him—it was one he hadn’t made in a long time, and he didn’t have the processing power to understand what it meant. 

Turning to face the snake-woman, the zombie’s eyes were glazed over and a massive head wound from where the bullet had entered through the cheek and exited out the back was healing itself. The sheep he’d been trying to rescue lay abandoned in the walkway as he started a shambling run toward her, the feeling of being starved overriding anything else that tried to make itself known to him. 

Well, anything except the other meals making their way here. Even in this state, Denver had the sense to spot an easier target and change his trajectory. He wasn’t fully gone, though he had very little say in the matter. So the zombie ran past the party guest and threw himself at the attacker that arrived first, ignoring the knife that slid into his belly and going straight for the throat.

The other two gave Denver a wide berth, focusing their attention on Anita. One wielded a crossbow, and the other… the other was shifting, sprouting feathers as huge wings grew out of their arms and large, taloned feet ripped free from their shoes. They got themselves airborne and aimed those talons at Anita while letting out a loud screech, their partner taking aim with the crossbow and firing off a bolt.

—

For as little as she knew about zombies, Antia knew a fair amount about body language. For as undead as Denver clearly was, the bullet to the brain seemed to impact more than just his frontal lobe. She watched him as close as she could, her attention torn between him and the oncoming group of new assailants. Watched as he struggled to his feet, discarded the creature he had just previously been hellbent on saving, and looked directly at her with a look in his eyes she was all too familiar with. “This evening’s about to get a lot more fucked, isn’t it?” 

In a stroke of luck, however, the zombie shifted his hunger glare from her to those storming into the barn. Anita took a moment to appreciate the simplicity of Denver’s attack style and the beauty of torn arteries spraying flecks of blood as the zombie’s teeth tore through the attackers neck. But the moment of appreciation was cut short when one of the attackers began to shift, into some avian abomination. Not an abomination because of their form, of course. “Why are you fucking with me and not the damn hunters?!” 

The distraction, if that's what it was, worked. Anita’s attention followed the siren as she flew into the air preparing herself for a delicious meal, when she felt an arrow dig in between her scales. The lamia’s head whipped back towards the man with the bow in his hands, hissing as she lunged towards him. Taking advantage of the shift of her primary target, the siren swooped down and dug her talons into the base of Anita’s tail which proved exponentially more painful than the previous soft sting of the arrow. The siren pulled Antia backwards, deeper into the barn that was gradually becoming engulfed in flames. 

—

Mister Crossbow faltered in his bumrush on the lamia when he realized his bolt had done little damage, suddenly not feeling so keen on getting right into the thick of it with her. As the siren took care of that scaly problem, he whipped around to face the zombie that was… ripping out the throat of his companion. Well not companion, he’d hardly known Fred, but he’d been a nice enough guy. Grimacing, the hunter loaded another bolt, thankful that the zombie was at least distracted enough to allow him the time for it. Taking aim, he let it fly and watched the bolt bury itself straight through the zombie’s own neck. Damnit… too low. 

Denver snapped his head up, snarling at Mister Crossbow and abandoning the easy meal that lay dead in front of him. He scrambled to his feet, sprinting at the hunter holding the crossbow and ripping it from his hands as he closed the distance alarmingly quickly. The hunter went down screaming, and Denver could feel himself slipping further from awareness as his body fought to regenerate around the bolt in his neck. Black blood mixed with red as he tore into the man’s chest cavity through his lower abdomen, ripping barehanded through flesh with superhuman strength and pushing through muscle to grab at handfuls of viscera and pull. 

A soft, familiar sound met his ears and the zombie lifted his head again. His blackened gaze scanned the horizon, finding the struggling, crying form of the sheep he’d initially carried out of there. Get up. Get up, he screamed at himself in his head, remembering Anita. Remembering… she’d been… helping. She was… there was one more. Somewhere. He looked into the flames and smoke, and saw two strange silhouettes inside the barn. Get up. Help her. With a gurgling groan, the zombie pushed himself to his feet once more and shuffled forward, his hand clumsily gripping the bolt in his neck and yanking it free as he moved. Bird. Bird. Kill. His thoughts were diminished to single word commands now, but he tried to keep repeating them in his head and keep himself on task. Kill. Bird. Eat. 

Stumbling into the barn, the heat of the fire would have been uncomfortable at best if he still had any nerves to feel it. The siren was screeching and squawking, diving at Anita with talons and teeth bared. Denver ambled over to them, swatting at the ‘bird’ when she passed by low to the ground, teeth gnashing hungrily. 

—

There were many factors causing the hot rage coursing through Anita as the siren, momentarily, had gotten the drop on her. The main cause was in knowing a shifter, even a lowly one like a siren, was working alongside humans to attack this farm. They were a pathetic disgrace to the shifting community and in Anita’s eyes she deserved a slow and painful death for the betrayal alone. But the feathered fucker was quick, and she had the unfortunate flight advantage. Grounding the front portion of her body as much as she could, Anita pulled her tail (which had been partially raised off the ground by the siren’s grip) down. She kept repeating the movement, the two engaged in a strange game of tug-o-war where Anita was both the rope and the competitor. 

The momentum of her tail eventually allowed her to pull the siren down closer to the flames causing some of her feathers to begin smoldering. It was enough to break herself loose of the talon’s grip on her as Antia quickly coiled her tail beneath her as a foundation and used her length to gain a bit of a height advantage. She tried to reach up and bite the bird but the siren’s reflexes were, evidently, just as good as her own. So a strange dance began, as the snake and the bird fought to get the upper hand. 

Anita kept trying to latch onto her so that she could throw her into the flames. The siren kept trying to lunge down at Anita, her talons scraping across the lamia’s scales but unable to get another grip on her. She heard screaming coming from behind her and hoped that the idiot who had shot her earlier was being absolutely ravaged by the seemingly increasingly unhinged zombie running all over the place. 

It seemed her hopes had come true, as Denver’s attention returned to her and the siren. Thankfully, he seemed ready for a main course of poultry as he chomped forward towards the bird.The fire kept growing and looking up, Anita saw the roof was beginning to lose its integrity. She refused to let this species traitor get away. They needed to clip the siren’s wings somehow, needed to ground her so that she could not keep flying just out of reach. She spotted a heap of hay bales, only beginning to catch fire, and climbed on top of them to get as much height as she could. When the siren dipped low again, instead of simply dodging the attack, Anita propelled herself forward and collided with the other woman mid-air - sending them both barreling towards the ground. 

—

There wasn’t much the zombie could do but swat uselessly at the air as the siren dove this way and that — it was clear that the man who had been a powerhouse during the game of tug-of-war only a couple hours or so earlier was no longer present in his own mind. He’d fought to maintain some kind of control with everything he had, but his wounds were too grievous, his body too stressed from healing. The man who had never left his brother’s side until tonight, who had been there beside Dallas through every peak and low valley in their lives, who had held his baby nephew with a wide, bright smile on his face for the first time since they’d both been children, was gone. And while there was still time for him to come back, still time for him to eat and heal and return to himself, return to his sibling and be that comforting presence that Dallas had always needed after losing his wife and child, that time was running out. 

The fire engulfed the barn. Denver swiped at the air, watching numbly as Anita climbed to a higher vantage point and took the siren down. There were no sides anymore, only food. Hunger drove him forward, and his hands fell upon the wrong body — the one covered in scales rather than feathers. 

—

The body-slam did a number on the siren, but was certainly not enough on its own to kill her. It got Anita where she needed to be though: on top. The weight of the mojave rattlesnake was keeping its feathered foe pinned down, about to go in for the final blow, when she felt something clawing at her tail. “Can’t fucking catch a break,” she mumbled. The fire had engulfed the building and at this point there was nobody left inside worth saving other than herself. 

Anita bit down, clamping her fangs down around the neck of the siren before ripping her head off and swallowing it whole. The zombie was a far less concerning problem, yet he proved determined. Even as she got up and began to move towards the exit that was the least on fire, she could feel gnawing against her scales. Like a dog shaking off a pesty flea, Anita whipped her tail back and forth in a quick motion. She didn’t need to look back to know that Denver had been catapulted back into the barn, where the flames quickly began to char his frozen flesh. 

[pagerunner-j]

Doctor Who, you may ask?

Dr. Brian fucking May, I answer.

(*not actually his middle name)

[honysuckl]

Secret Stash | Anita & Honey

PARTNER : @gossipsnake TIMING : A week or so ago. LOCATION : Mansión Mexicana. SUMMARY : Honey finds Anita's secret in the greenhouse. WARNINGS : Unsanitary.

Honey had noticed it before, tucked away in the trees. Thought it could be kept from her, eh? While the flowers had yet to be seen, she knew they were there. Her loves only kept away by those sheets of glass and metal that made up the greenhouse. It was too large for personal use, but she was certain it was, considering the owner. Anita held an anger towards minimalism. What nested inside was guaranteed to be equally extravagant to its exterior. But instead of flowers, when she looked through the supposed glass, all she could see was darkness. Tragic. She knew the beauties inside were too lovely to be loved by one. She needed to see; perhaps share. It’s not like Anita would ever be able to tell, anyway.

Honey looked around again, expecting the woman to appear just from mere thought. But, no. Still nothing. That’s why she was here, after all, to keep Fluffy busy in absence of the house’s occupants. And she had kept the wee thing so busy he went right into a long nap. Taking advantage of her solitude (for once) she made quick with the locks. Locks! Plural! Her certainty grew stronger. One almost stopped her pursuit before it began, but her stubbornness eventually won out. All the locks clattered to the ground. The door opened. 

Those flowers Honey had desired so desperately never met her comprehension. Maybe there were never flowers. She didn’t know, not then. Her attention was stolen by the pull. It gripped her soul and whispered a command, the one she was always happy to follow. Eat, eat, eat. Bite. Tear. The flesh was like butter from rot and decay. It tasted just as sweet. Her teeth scrapped bone before she even needed to chew. A tenderness that made her frenzy. 

When moving to Wicked’s Rest, Anita was torn on which part of town she wanted to live in. Downtown screamed with the energy and excitement of all the bars, clubs, shops, and people. Harborside was drenched in wealth and opulence. Then there was Seven Peaks - a plot of land abutting The Pines that was fresh for her molding - sufficiently cut off from the main parts of town. The benefit of seclusion was privacy, of course. Neither Anita nor her roommate needed people regularly looking around and observing their day to day activities. 

Plus, with so much land, Anita was able to construct her little haven - her greenhouse. Green wasn’t exactly the right word for it, however, as there was very minimal plant life inside. Instead the walls were filled with decay and thousands of insects who thrived in such a ghastly environment. She never got too into the forensic side of entomology but she did love seeing how small arthropods could break down bodies with methodical ease. That’s what existed beyond her greenhouse doors, which is why they were always kept locked tight. 

While out on a hike earlier in the day she had come across a recently slain chipmunk. Not as large as the two human remains that were decomposing underneath the soil of her greenhouse, but worthy enough of bringing back home along with the few maggots that had already taken host. But as Anita approached, she saw that one of the doors was wide open. Her body tensed. Nobody else had a key. Nobody else needed to know what was inside. As she approached, she heard strange but not unfamiliar noises emanating from within. Someone … something… was feasting on her science projects. 

Dropping the chipmunk carcass, Anita picked up a shovel kept on the outside of the greenhouse doors and quietly took a few steps inside - ready to go full lamia if she needed to. “Can I help you?” She asked, in a tone that made it quite clear she had no intention of doing any such thing. 

Fear was laced into every fiber of muscle. Honey could feel it: the corpse’s last moment of dread before darkness. It always left the worst aftertaste, but the soul needed a proper place to rest. The flesh was turned to ribbon between the spaces of her teeth. She slurped them back into her mouth, along with the flies yet to breach. Her tongue was not so accurate. Bits tumbled along her chin, stroking down her neck until they met… Her clothes! With realization came a moment of clarity. This shit was always a fucking nightmare to remove. If she could remove it. At least the clothes themselves were obedient in that regard. Her cardigan was dropped onto the ground. Her shirt quickly followed, though it had certainly come to know the surrounding rot well. Oh, a problem to deal with in the future. The present demanded a return to that rot. 

That reunion was short-lived. While a moment prior may have had Honey completely devoted to the flesh, that clarity kept her ears open to the world. Open to the approach of the stranger. She didn’t care who was on the other side of the wall. Her diet always caused others to run towards her to fight or away from her to warn. Neither would be appreciated. She removed her dirks from their sheathes. They gleamed in the dim light—a shine soon to be dulled under a layer of the stranger’s blood. 

Well, until Honey realized it was no stranger at all. “...A-ida?” Her voice struggled past a chunk of muscle. It fell down her throat in one gulp. Right! Anita! The flesh had not only removed any thought of her clothes, but of any thought at all! Its spontaneous reveal had her acting the same. She then had the chance to consider: why the hell did Anita have this? But Honey was familiar with the arrangement, though her experiences were more simple. At times, she too would pile bodies in wait for hunger to return. She let out a laugh. “Oho! Is this, what, yer fridge a’ sorts?” 

Carefully and cautiously, Anita evaluated the situation that was playing out in front of her. Honey, her roommate's hot friend, was standing before her with partially decomposed human remains on her face and no shirt on. It was a two-way street of suspicion. Metzli had made a vague passing reference to how much Honey was like them, and it appears that lacking a pulse was one of those things in common. 

It didn’t take long for Anita to spot the blades held tightly in Honey’s hands. Her shovel wasn’t much of a match but if she needed to use her scales for protection she knew that she could. Her tone had been friendly, but her actions seemed defensive. “More of a scientific project than a fridge.” Even though her roommate trusted her, Antia didn’t know how this situation would play out for her. Would Honey tell people what she had going on back here? Would she try to blackmail Anita for her silence? “It’s forensic entomology. Seeing how various organic matter breaks down with the assistance of various insects. It’s for work.” 

The explanation wasn’t false, but it did not provide a reason as to why Anita had human remains decomposing in there along with various woodland creatures. Having dead bodies wasn’t more suspicious than eating dead bodies, however. “I take it you were hungry?” It wasn’t an accusatory statement - more like Anita just trying to open the door to a conversation of further understanding. This could end peacefully and she would prefer it if it did. 

“Och, aye, right.” The skepticism was clear in Honey’s voice. Not one meant to judge, but in the tone of whispers, like friends sharing a secret. She knew it was hard for many to reveal their true nature. A nature she knew well! Oh, how she knew the tantalization of a soul and the supple touch of decay. It was a wonder she did not return to it then, it was surely more interesting than any conversation could hope to be. That control of hers had been hard won after all this time mingling amongst humans. Anita seemed the same. Honey couldn’t even see that telling twitch and strain that always betrayed herself in her best of times. Huh. Curious. “Just a fridge for the wee crawlies.” She offered to play with the explanation. Perhaps there was a touch of truth in it: there were certainly many critters about. A sharing soul!

Honey could see Anita’s eyes go down. There were many possibilities, such as her breasts or the gore cupping each. It was those she had assumed at first, but the angle of the pupils wasn’t right. No. It was her dirks that had stolen the show. She chuckled. “No made up a’ good bites meself. Too strong a’ taste for most.” Her flesh was only delectable for a select few—was Anita one of those few? Well, she could not recall stories of those sorts having the capacity to look so human. Well, not that her lack of memory was any damning evidence. Best to keep those blades of hers close. “But aye. Had a want for nibbles.” Sweet nibbles for Anita and the critters she so loved. It was then the reality of her encroachment fully settled. “Ach, right. Yer nibbles.” She hissed, “O mo chreach.” Flowers were one thing, but humans weren’t the easiest to store. At least, not to the point of delicious decay. No wonder Anita wielded that shovel. She herself would have done the same and worse! There was a moment of awkward grumbling, but with a nod, she settled into resolve. “I will go ‘n replace the sweet nibbles I took. ” 

Had nearly anyone else broken into the greenhouse, Anita would likely view it as a necessity to add them to the very shallow graves they had discovered. A human certainly would not be able to be trusted with the information. Anyone else would have to be on a case-by-case basis. Unfortunately for the both of them, Anita didn’t really know Honey very well - or at all, really. Despite that, she felt that she had enough data points to evaluate this situation and the most likely outcomes. 

“I’m not the one looking for a snack.” Antia replied, firmly but not aggressively. She’d never eaten anyone undead before, didn’t sound very appetizing in all honesty. She liked her meals fresh and warm. From what she knew about their shared world, Honey was likely a zombie. Anita couldn’t imagine any other species tearing through the decaying human flesh with such precision - at least not while still looking human. The question became whether or not Honey knew that Anita was lamia. The behavior she had uncovered wasn’t inherent to Anita’s species - just inherent to Anita. 

The offer was both unexpected and kind - so much so that it caused Anita to loosen up her grip on the shovel she had still been holding. “Oh. Well, that one was near the end stages of my observations anyway.” The idea of someone else contributing to her collection made her uneasy. Anita was used to taking such diligent precautions to avoid any unwanted attention. It wasn’t that she doubted that Honey couldn’t be discrete but she just couldn’t take the chance. The last thing she needed was someone knocking on her door because a missing hiker was traced back to her greenhouse somehow. “No need to replace it. Thank you though, the offer is appreciated.” 

Aye, keep your sweet secrets, Anita. It was smart to hide those sorts away, and Honey had no right prying down those walls… Despite her want. Who are you, Anita? A question that grew at the refusal of the trade. “Eh?” Who would refuse a free morsel? Especially a meal so hard to secure without the risk of becoming a meal to the state! Did Honey seem inadequately suited for such a task? Or worse, was it the end goal of sustenance not to Anita’s liking? Observations. Project. Honey suspected all were a well-rehearsed distraction from a guarded truth. But, for a moment, she saw the ‘distraction’ as true, and in that moment, she came to a disappointing conclusion. “Ach, no, dinnae say yer a clarty headed human who plays at man-hunter. Oh, they never do the shite right.” 

A grievance more born from past experience than present evidence. Anita seemed far more interesting than to be revealed for one of those. Honey sternly shook her head that was paired with a quick muttering of no’s. No, these bodies were here for… something. “I see, I see, aye. Well! If not that, then…” Despite the refusal, it was rude to leave without an attempt at an offer. And she did have parts to spare. “Will trade in this!” Her blade finally found a proper target. It sliced through her own index finger. Her remaining fingers quickly caught it before it fell to the ground. Only a delay, for she nestled it into the soil, joining its brethren of death. She hoped the offering would suffice. With that, she stood and brought along her clothes. The cardigan rested on one shoulder, while her shirt the other. But she could not so freely walk out of the lion’s den, not yet. She studied Anita for a moment before twitching her blade, instructing Anita to the side. “If is trappin’ the rest a’ me ye seek, go ahead with yer best shot. But if no, then move yerself. I got a bath waitin’.” 

“Ay! Don’t even say such a thing,” Anita waved her arms in slight disgust and then pretended to spit on the ground at the implication that she might be a human. She knew that when she was shifted into her human form that she had all the appearances of humanity. That always just irked her, however. She longed for a space where she could live her days in her true form. But to do so would put her at heightened risk which would necessitate heightened isolation, which she was unwilling to do. 

Not because she had any qualms about blood or severed limbs or ligaments, but when Honey sliced through her index finger, Anita gasped. Why would someone do such a thing? With no hesitation and a face that was not painted with regret thereafter. That mixed with the eating rotting flesh led her mind down a very particular path. 

As much disdain as she had for another telling her to move aside within her own greenhouse, Anita did not put up a fight. She took a step to the side, but stuck out her hand in front of Honey before she let her pass by. “This time, I’m stepping aside. If you break in again, or enter without my permission… this is not a courtesy I will extend twice.”

Honey chuckled at the disgust. While she did not share in the ill will—humans provided her such precious sustenance after all—she could recognize it. Oh, who are you, Anita? A curiosity they shared, for she could also recognize that look. While Honey refused to dawdle on the potential possibilities Anita was humoring, she delighted in becoming a spectacle. If only Anita would share in any telling nature. But Anita’s generosity ended at a tight eyes that loomed with a threat. Yet Honey’s dirk settled at her hip. Still grasped, of course. She knew she was encroaching on another’s territory, and when she stayed with Anita’s gaze, she could see it was the territory of a predator. Honey’s smile did not falter, but it did settle. It was no longer fueled by amusement, but by recognition. She wanted to make that threat in Anita’s eyes a reality. To make the two of them a mirror in ferocity. 

Honey would be blessed another time. For the moment, she had overstayed the welcome she was never given. “Oh, I no doubt that. Ye must ken all the lovely ways to deal with the ill-footers.” She began her leave, despite her thoughts not fully done. “Gie a ring if those ‘observations’ get a bit much for you.” She snapped her teeth, offering them up for their services for such an event. Well, ‘event.’ Her use of observations had been in jest, for it must surely be a distraction. Right? Yet as soon as the word left her mouth, that strange feeling in her gut returned and festered. Anita did not seem so human, but Honey wondered if her accusation was truly off base. To kill without a thought for sustenance… The smile on her face finally fell into nothingness. “Best to ring quick. Is damn cruel to keep the souls waitin’ there so long.” She doubted Anita would heed her warning. No, if it were true, this needed her return. To right this wrong; to continue her feast. But first, those threatening eyes needed to leave her. Another time, then. The bath called to her.

The way Honey’s smile fell made Anita feel a bit uneasy, as did her word choice. The way she emphasized ‘observations’, the way she called the rotting bodies in the ground ‘souls.’ Could she really be the type of being who happily consumed human flesh while also holding the species in high regard? Their shared community, the non-human community, seemed to be fairly split on how to treat and deal with the rest of the population. 

“Don’t sit up waiting for any call. I’ve managed this greenhouse all by myself for many years, hasn’t gotten to be too much for me yet - don’t expect it will any time soon.” Anita couldn’t figure out what Honey’s intentions were and she wasn’t quite sure that she really wanted to find out. Nor did she have any intention of altering her experiments at their request. The “souls” were long gone, and leaving them in the ground for Anita’s observations was not cruel - it was science.  

“I’m serious, don’t come in here again.” She’d have to have a conversation with Metzli about certain spaces being off limits to houseguests. Anita didn’t want to have to kill one of her roommates' friends simply because they didn’t know how to mind their own business. But if it had to be done… she was prepared to do it.

[disastersteps]

Do You Have Any Idea What I Have To Do? ...Go There And Do What Others Wouldn't Fucking Dare!

[someotherdog]

@finclgicls / finn & anita, the church's bake sale a few weeks after their not-so-platonic breakup. / posted in beta.

she was there. finn inhaled sharply. he was there. finn exhaled flatly. he shouldn't have been surprised to see anita there with her husband, as they were married, but he had been surprised to see her there at all. the semi-annual bake sale wasn't his favorite out of all the functions that st. joseph's held, but it was one that didn't require a lot out of him. he mostly had to show up, bless the treats if the baker requested it, eat more cupcakes and slices of banana bread than he could ever had wanted, and help clean up once it was over. most of his parishioners, at least the ones that participated in the baking, viewed it as a competition even though there were no judges at the event. it was also a place to gossip, though his parishioners didn't really need a special occasion to do that. it was another reason he had to worry. if one of his deacons or other pastoral associates saw him stealing glances towards anita, would they report him to their bishop? was the person that reported them in the first place in the room? his stomach hurt and he doubted it had much to do with all the baked goods he had been forced to try.

he couldn't avoid her forever. he knew that, and though he was scared to approach her, he worried it would look stranger if he didn't at least say hello. like that would imply they were guilty of something after all. that didn't mean he was going to seek her out, though. waiting until their paths naturally crossed, finn gave a small smile at the lovely couple. "i'm glad to see you two made it. have you made anything to sell or just came by to get some of mrs. campanelli's amazing blueberry muffins?" he asked genially, giving the elderly mrs. campanelli a squeeze on the shoulder since they were standing in front of her booth.

[chrisgates]

You're Gonna Need a Bigger Can (of Bug Spray!)

TIMING: Within the past month LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: @gossipsnake & @chrisgates SUMMARY: Chris agrees to meet Anita and show her where he accidentally took some photos of Eurynomos. All goes well until the insects notice the pair nearby and shoot at them with acid. Anita does some quick thinking to save the both of them. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Anita had only ever lured six other men to the woods before in her lifetime. She ate all six of them. That wasn’t the plan with this local photographer, however. It was her intellectual hunger that she was eager to satisfy rather than the literal kind. From the angle where Christopher had taken his photograph, the Eurynomos was hardly visible. If one was not familiar with the biology of such an insect, they would easily have mistaken it for a generic fly that was much closer to the camera opposed to a large fly-like creature further away.

It was the human-like hands, visible upon zooming in quite far, that revealed the Eurynomos to Anita. She had come across her fair share of these supernatural insects before and she was utterly fascinated by them. What she had yet to do, however, was observe them out and about in a natural environment for an extended period of time. If they were flying around out in the Pines, maybe this was her opportunity. 

Given that her guide seemed somewhat unsure of where these insects were located on a map but seemingly confident that he could retrace his steps and get the pair out that way, Anita had agreed to meet him at the start of one of the trailheads at the base of the mountains. She hoped he was a decent conversationalist since their online interactions, even though private, would make her a prime suspect in his disappearance if she were to eat him at the end of their journey. “Hey! Christopher, right?” She said enthusiastically to the blonde man who approached her. 

After this, Chris needed to get better at his map reading skills. He did regret offering to physically take her out there, but it would probably be fine. He did a little research on Dr. Nieves before he took to the ground, just a little cursory glance over her professional profile on the UMWR website. He didn’t like going into anything blind — and that included meeting new people.

Despite the need to appease his constant stream of apprehension and worry, Chris was excited to meet up with the college professor. She seemed like she really loved what she did, loved insects and other manner of creepy crawlies — he would never understand the fascination with bugs, but he could appreciate passion. The least he could do was to point her in the right direction, even if it meant putting himself out there.

He’d brought his camera and bag, just in case; he did tell her he needed to head up that way again, anyway, which wasn’t the most horrific of lies. While there was no specific reason he needed to traverse that off-beat path for a second time, he figured to take his equipment with him just in case. The woods in Wicked’s Rest were thick with wildlife, some he’d never seen before, so he wanted to be prepared.

A woman who matched the appearance of Dr. Nieves from the website already stood by the agreed meeting spot. A bout of uneasiness raked through Chris, but he chalked it up to his usual shortcomings and headed over. He offered her a wide smile; her enthusiasm was palpable. “Yeah, hi,” he greeted and willed himself to offer her his hand. “It’s good to meet you in person, Dr. Nieves.” 

Even though she had only been in town for about two years, given her profession and extracurricular activities, Anita spent much of her time in the forests surrounding town. Despite that frequent exploration, she still didn’t have a clear mental map of the entire area. Some portions of the Pines were so vast that Anita had to take particular precaution to avoid getting lost. But that was also sort of the fun of exploring. 

That was not the goal today with Christopher, however. “Dr. Nieves is so stuffy, I don’t even make my students call me that. Anita, please.” She didn’t know if it always came across the way she intended, but she took careful efforts to brand herself as the cool professor. But she also knew that part of being cool was just a vibe, not a forced persona. Anita had fairly reliable feedback that she was mostly successful in her efforts, however. 

She didn’t waste any time getting them started on their trek, turning to start heading up the main trailhead path. “That’s quite the camera you got there. How long have you been doing nature photography?” In a town like this, is what she wanted to add on. You wander out in the woods long enough in Wicked’s Rest and you’re bound to photograph more than just a supernatural bug. Anita wondered what else he had seen out here. “I have a nice camera back at the school but it’s more meant for micro-shots of bugs, not so much for great landscape portraits.” 

So far so good. Chris didn’t make a habit of meeting new people by himself and he definitely didn’t make a habit of following those new people out into the woods. Despite the underlying excitement, the suspicious and uncomfortable nature of this meeting didn’t pass over his head without a lingering glance. He just had to think of it as helping. That’s all he was doing. Not everyone was out to get him or knew what horrible things they said he did. He was going to be just fine.

“Anita, okay. That sounds good to me.” Even though he respected academic titles, especially doctors (just the thought of the amount of schooling it took gave Chris hives), he was glad for the drop in formality. “Oh thanks,” he returned, unable to help himself as he stole a glance down at the silver camera around his neck. It was always there — it knew the inside of its carrying case for one day, when he first got it. There was never any telling when he’d need to snap a picture, so it hung at the ready.

“Phew, I’d say.. Twenty years, at least? Professionally about half that, but I’ve been into photography since I can remember.” The minute he’d been gifted that silly little disposable camera, it all clicked — that’s what he was meant to do. It was just disappointing he couldn’t do more. Chris couldn’t help the small, excited sound that escaped him when she mentioned her own camera. “You have a macro lens?? I would love to see your shots, if I can? I have one of my own at home, but I couldn’t get into it. I don’t know why. The detail you can get is amazing.”

“Twenty years? Impressive.” He almost didn’t look old enough to have that much experience, but Anita knew a thing or two about finding your passion in childhood. It took a moment for the photographer to seem to relax, even if only slightly, but the mention of her macro lens seemed to spark some comfort and interest. “Yeah, I do! It’s really the only way to properly document insects. There is so much that the naked eye simply cannot see, and there is so much beauty just beyond our field of vision.” 

“My shots aren’t particularly creative, more technical. But, beautiful nonetheless. I’d be happy to show you some of them. Sometimes I come out here to try and document some of the local insects in their natural environment, but most of my shots are in a laboratory setting.” Anita was admittedly hopeful that this trip would be a success and that she would have the opportunity to get an Eurynomos back to her place to investigate and, among other things, photograph. 

As the pair made their way through the forest, the terrain began to get slightly more difficult. Anita was used to it though, these woods had become her hunting grounds over the years, for more than just interesting insects. She kept her eyes peeled for anything interesting, or dangerous.  “I don’t remember if you said when we were talking online, but are you from this area? Or are you a transplant like myself?” 

Chris tried to dismiss her praise with a wave of his hand. “Oh it’s nothing.. It doesn’t even feel very impressive, really,” he laughed, not really feeling like his skill was really anything to brag about. Sure, he felt proud of what he’s accomplished, what he could do and see, but he had the hardest time receiving praise. He largely thought it was all just placates. Not a lot of people actually knew what went into making a picture look good.

Anita might, though. Between her niche in insects and her macro lens, she seemed to have the building blocks of someone who could appreciate all the little details. “Right? I’ve seen some really cool macro shots of ants and bees online and they just look so cool. I’ve used mine to look at textures like metal or wood, but I didn’t have a lot of patience back when I first got it.. Maybe I’ll give it another shot.”

“Thank you, I really don’t mind. I’d love to see them anyway.” He loved to see other’s art, especially when it was in the same or similar medium. He liked to look at the differences in style, to compare and gab about equipment and share photography woes. It was always nice to meet with someone who shared a common interest, no matter the form. Even if she were a novice, he’d still get excited.

They made their way further into the thick of it and away from civilization; it made Chris a little nervous, but his excitement over their shared commonality drowned out any anxiety. Her personal question did make him hesitate for a second, but he followed through and answered without being overly specific. He didn’t need, or want, someone to look him up — he had no idea what was out there and refused to look for himself. “Ah, transplant. The other coast, actually,” he chuckled softly as he stepped onto a decently sized rock before hopping off of it. “Been here just a few months now.. It’s nice, though. Reminds me of home.”

“How long have you been here? I can’t remember if your, uh, school bio said or not.”

One thing Anita never quite understood was people who refused to acknowledge their own greatness and accept honest compliments. Growing up, she used to think that was a uniquely human characteristic. That, admittedly, had made sense to her. Humans weren’t very impressive and it was quite self-aware of them to realize that. But as her world expanded and she met other superior beings it became evident that other supernaturals had similar hang ups. Chris’ refusal to acknowledge his own impressiveness, therefore, gave her no insight into his genealogy. 

It wasn’t particularly surprising that he was a fellow transplant, so many people who lived in town were. You wouldn’t think so upon first discovering the town though. It was small, it had minimal tourist drive, and it had a very locally driven mindset. Once you learn more about Wicked’s Rest it sort of makes sense. After all, how does a small town stay a small town despite a regular stream of people moving there? Well, just look at the local death rates. 

“A few months, ahh, so you’ve barely gotten a taste for the winters here yet, huh?” Winters were, without hesitation, Anita’s least favorite part of this region. She smirked slightly but did not really address the fact that he had done his research on her before meeting up. It was smart. Maybe he’d stand a chance in this town. “No, I don’t think that’s on there. But I’ve been in town … well, the start of the next school year will be four years. Time fucking flies sometimes.” 

It wasn’t long before the pair made their way up to one of the open clearings in the forest. The soft sunlight that broke through the treetops bounced off of the flowers and tall grass around them. It didn’t look like the exact spot Christopher’s photo was taken in - but they were getting close. “I don’t remember if I asked … do you recall how long ago you had taken that photo?” 

Chris wished he wasn’t the way that he was, but he’d been given a shit hand from the get go. He wanted to believe the compliments, wanted to believe that he was worth something or that any of their words were true. He didn’t want to have to do research on someone before meeting them. He didn’t want to look over his shoulder anymore. But he couldn’t change it, no matter how hard he tried — social interactions were going to be a struggle and there wasn’t much he could do about it (at least, nothing that he hadn’t tried).

But photography he could gab about, even if it was peppered with small talk. “Not yet, I hope I get to experience it.” A stumble, but he could fix it. Did he need to? He did have a tendency to put his foot into his own mouth. “My job, uh, kinda takes me everywhere.” He shrugged. Believable? Lots of jobs required travel and it didn’t seem too far-fetched for a freelance photographer to have to move around. “Wow, four? Yeah, it does.. Too fast, in my opinion.” It didn’t help that he had years missing off of his life. Time certainly would move fast, then. “I take it you like it here, then?” Chris wished he could stay in one place for that long, but that felt like a fantasy.

The clearing was familiar, but no, not the right spot. Chris’ eyes danced along the tops of tall grass, his attention jumped between them — just a good few yards, he was sure. Maybe the next one? He recognized that tree, for sure. “Maybe a week ago? Definitely about this time,” he’d looked up and squinted at the sunlight that peaked between the tree coverage. His nose wrinkled when he did so. “We’re definitely on the right track.”

Anita wasn’t going to address it, but she did pick up on the oddness of his responses. He was direct yet evasive in his responses, offering up the bare minimum. It was understandable but still curious nonetheless. “That must be nice, a job that lets you travel. So many places to see on this earth and far too little time.” The question wasn’t one she was expecting for some reason. Did she like it here? “Yeah, I suppose I do like it here. I like my job, town’s got just enough to do that you don’t completely lose your mind, and the wide open nature is … well,” she gestured to the views around them, “next level.”

Having enough familiarity with the forest to, generally speaking, know where the two of them were Anita was beginning to piece together where the photo was likely taken from. Her goal was simply to get confirmation as to the location of the eurynomos and then return at a later time to actually search for it. The last thing she needed was for her or the photographer to get devoured by eurynomos acid. Though if it had to be one of them … 

As she followed his lead and they got closer to the location, Anita focused her attention on their surroundings. If there were a gathering of eurynomos nearby, that could mean that some big nasty creature was using this area as his feeding ground, leaving around just enough trace of death to draw the supernatural insects in. “Ya know, these woods can be kind of dangerous at night. Not sure if you’re into night hiking, but … just make sure you’re on high alert if you do venture into the Pines after dark.” Just then, almost as if to provide physical evidence of the dangers of the forest, Anita heard a suspicious noise just up ahead that wasn’t immediately familiar. 

Chris wished he was allowed to travel on his own terms, instead it felt like some sort of mandatory punishment he needed to endure and for what? There was a small silver lining — he did get to travel and see new places. In those good moments, he got to see some really beautiful places, but the shadow that latched on always soiled it. “Yeah it’s not bad. I’ve always wanted to travel, so this,” he lifted his camera just slightly in reference, “seemed like a no-brainer.” He’d like to see other countries, too, but if he wound up having to flee the states that, to him, was a bad thing. That meant that whatever it was that was definitely not wrong with him was getting worse.

Her answer was refreshing. Since he’d arrived, it was ‘weird this’ and ‘strange that’. It was nice to hear a fairly normal response to a question that tended to pull heavily opinionated answers. Now, that was the point of the question, sure, and everyone had an opinion on where they lived (they were allowed to!), but people tended to act like Wicked’s Rest was cursed. Chris had to respond with a smile. “You’re probably the first person who said anything nice right off the bat. There’s no ‘but’ is there? Someone told me, uh.. Hang on, let me get it right. ‘It’s a great place to live if you like Stephen King novels.’” The look on his face was one of both amusement and incredulity.

“... Kind of.” Normally he liked to go for a jog in the early morning or just at sundown, but his photography took him through the forest at all hours of the day and night, especially when he couldn’t sleep. “I grew up around the woods. I was more likely to be there than in the house, so… can’t be more dangerous than the woods in Oregon, right? I mean, I appreciate that, though. I definitely will keep an eye and ear out,” was what he wanted to say before he was interrupted by whatever sound Anita had also picked up on. And then it got louder. Chris was no stranger to the unusual sounds that erupted between the trees and bushes, so it didn’t sound like anything too weird, but that didn’t stop his skin from breaking out into goosebumps. “You hear that too, right?”

“I’m the first to say something nice? That’s … shocking. And not just because I’m known for having sharp opinions,” Anita knew that there was plenty to complain about in this town but she also knew there was plenty to complain about in any town. “Maybe travelers like us see things a bit differently. I’ve lived in many towns, in multiple states, in two different countries. I’m not quite sure what brought you out this way, but I chose this town. Not saying there aren’t any ‘buts’ and not saying this town doesn’t have big Stephen King energy… but,” she smirked a bit, “every place has its quirks.” 

“Never been out to Oregon. But don’t underestimate the woods in Maine.” There was a seriousness to her tone but Antia wondered if it had even registered as it was apparent that he also heard whatever the noise was. “Yes, I hear it.” If she was alone, Anita would shift into form and use her thermal vision to better pin-point not only what was making that noise but where they were making it from. 

Increasing her gait, Anita pushed ahead of Chris towards the noise. She at least wanted to know what was out here. As she approached the tall brush just beyond the treeline she quietly slipped her backpack off of one shoulder and around towards the front of her body, making access to its contents more accessible. It didn’t take long for the noises and shadows to make her realize that whatever was nearby, it was feeding. “Like I said, don’t underestimate the woods in Maine,” Anita whispered. Would it have been better to just flee instead of opening her mouth? Almost certainly, given that the creature stopped making noises as soon as she spoke. “How fast can you run?” 

“Right out the gate, sure. I’ve been told to ‘leave while I still can’ a few times already, but I’m pretty sure they were all joking anyway.” Chris was pretty certain considering most of those people had a lot of compliments that followed, but there was always something ominous just casually thrown into the mix, like giant worms that swallowed people whole or the little man that lived in the immense trash pile that never seemed to go away. They were things just weird enough to make him question it, but seeing was believing and so far the only thing the town offered was a beautiful coast view with a mountainscape in the background. Other than the slight eeriness, it was perfect. “Yeah, honestly… You’re right. I don’t think I’ve been anywhere that wasn’t.. Weird on some level.”

“You should visit if you like it here,” he suggested. He didn’t think he’d ever go back, especially not to Salem, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t recommend it. It was a beautiful state and an even beautiful city, but his lived experiences and the memories he kept tainted it for him.

Great. He wished that she didn’t agree with him. He wished that he hadn’t heard what she did. He also wished that she wouldn’t head in its direction, but he was certain Anita wouldn’t have listened to him in the first place. Her mind was made up. So, Chris felt inclined to follow. It was a moment that paralleled The Lost World, when Dr. Sarah Harding rushed into the middle of a group of stegosaurus. He supposed that made him Dr. Ian Malcolm — he didn’t have the brains nor did he think he had the looks, but he was the one tailing after a brazen and intelligent woman, so if the shoe had to fit somewhere. But when one shoe fit, the other had to drop.

Chris would have asked what exactly she might have surmised from the grotesque sounds that only seemed to stop the closer they neared if it hadn’t been for her question. “Uh! I’m pretty decent, not to toot my own horn. Uh, why??”

While Anita had no qualms shifting into the powerful rattlesnake that was always just below the surface to protect herself she was determined to not give herself away to Chris - particularly where it seemed as though he was either very good at lying or he was largely oblivious to what lurked in the shadows of this town. “Why?” The laugh that pushed out of her lungs was involuntary after hearing such an obvious question. “Because if I say run, I need you to fucking run, comprende?” 

The lack of noise didn’t mean that the creature was heading towards them, but it did mean that it knew something was nearby. Lots of creatures, even the supernatural ones, weren’t necessarily prone to immediately attack. Animals had varied self-preservation instincts, and some recognized that fleeing from strange noises was often the safest option. Taking careful steps, inching forward enough to see beyond the treeline where the noise was coming from, Anita sighed softly as she saw the back of a curious creature disappear deeper into the woods. 

“Guess it also had the brilliant idea of running away,” it was possibly premature to have relaxed as much as she did, but Anita couldn’t have known that there was another threat nearby in her oblivious human form. Logic should have suggested, however, that where they were almost at the area where he had accidentally photographed an Eurynomos and there were decomposing carcasses in the general vicinity the deadly insects couldn’t have been far behind. “We should be cautious in case it comes back, but I guess that animal didn’t want confrontation today.” 

As if they were waiting until she let her guard down, a glob of acid shot between the two of them and landed on a nearby bush. A testament to the strength of the acid of the Eurynomos, the bush began to die and wither in front of them. “Mierda…,”Anita muttered before pushing Chris out of the way and turning towards the direction the acid came from. Just one that she could see with her stupid human vision. Swinging her backpack upward it made contact with the bug and hurled it off to a nearby tree. She knew there was bound to be more around, though, and turned towards Chris, a bit surprised he hadn’t booked it already. “Fucking run!” 

Chris would have laughed right along with her if she didn’t sound so damn convincing. “Okay, okay,” he conceded gently, “I’ll run when you say.” Even though it felt very much like a slap on the wrist, in a way, he would do what she said anyway. He didn’t know what else hid out in those woods, or what could be dangerous, apart from the usual bear or moose or wolf, but she seemed to have an idea so it was best to follow her lead. 

“Good, I really don’t either.” He sure hoped it didn’t want a fight, he hoped that was the only reason why they were suddenly left to look after the stinking, rotting carcasses of its passed meals. Chris also hoped they’d find this bug soon; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay around the smelly meat. Underneath the disgust, however, was a small tainting of… Hunger? It was gross, sure, and the buzzing of flies would be a clear deterrent, and they were, but he couldn’t help the odd way his mouth salivated.

Thankfully, or rather unfortunately, something interrupted his little inner debate. Something he could audibly hear eat through the foliage next to them. And then he was being pushed aside. What the fuck, was what he wanted to say, exclaim, question, but all that came out was a pathetic “wha-?” He quickly turned his attention to where she looked and took note of the too large fly that hovered nearby. It looked so freaky, but he couldn’t linger on it for any longer, not when Anita gave him the green light. 

So he picked up and rushed off into a run away from whatever it was that just spat through leaves like the Xenomorph in the Alien franchise. A mantra of what the fuck repeated over and over, but he still made sure he didn’t run any further than Anita — leaving her behind would upset him greatly. 

This was not the first time, and likely would not be the last time, that Anita had been chased through the woods by a deadly insect. Occupational hazard? Based on how he had reacted to seeing the Eurynomos, however, Anita was now confident that he knew little to nothing about the supernatural world. Moreso, she was confident that he was not a hunter. That meant she could let a bit of her scales free and open up her senses. Anita allowed herself to partially shift, spreading the muddy green mojave scales to spread across her back and shoulders, which were mostly covered by her clothing. 

As if putting on glasses for the first time, the whole world around them sharpened and came into focus for her. There were no less than six of the massive acid-spitting insects following closely behind them. Fuck. Anita couldn’t rely on flinging her backpack around to get rid of this many of them and while they had a good pace going, the bugs were gaining ground and they were undoubtedly still in the crossfire of their spit range. 

While she knew a great deal about these bugs Anita did not know what might happen to her if she went full snake and swallowed them whole. At best? Acid reflux. At worst? She shuddered at the thought. “Bugspray!” She thought aloud, fairly certain she had packed some herself and hoped that there was a small chance Chris might have some too. Then she had a better idea. “Do you have a lighter?” 

This wasn’t the first time Chris had been chased by an animal of some kind. There were a lot out there that really didn’t like anyone to intrude into their territory, but to get a really nice, clear shot, sometimes he had to do that. But he wasn’t out there to take pictures — no. He was just trying to lead someone to some interesting insect he took a lucky shot of. And now it was trying to kill them.

He paid enough attention to Anita as they ran to keep tabs on her, to make sure that she didn’t fall behind or worse. Something along her neck caught his eye, but the sound of buzzing took front and center. That little thought would disappear from Chris’ mind, at least for now as they tried to outrun the current danger. Her exclamation of ‘bug spray’ caused his attention to snap back to her, where he again noticed something a little off. There was no time to dwell on it, not when he had to dig for the small, black lighter he had shoved in his back pocket.

There were initials carved into the bottom — not his. He’d found it in a clearing he frequented for pictures. Blood stained the earth around it but there was nothing else nearby, no one else, either. It was full, so he took it, thinking it could be useful. He was glad he snatched it up, even if someone might be missing it. “Uhhhh, yeah! Here,” Chris fished the lighter out and made an awkward pass; how did relay racers do this? A pat of acid landed like a hot knife through butter on one of the trees as he ran by. It felt like they were getting closer. 

Anita slid one of her arms back through the one strap of her backpack as she ran, hoping that the speed she would undoubtedly lose digging through the pack would not be the difference between getting out of here and getting consumed by toxic acid. Her fingers slid across the cool metalic can of bug spray in her bag and she gripped it in her hand and pulled it out. With her other hand, she reached out as Chris worked to pass her the lighter he had. 

Maybe this was going to work. 

“The clearing on the right,” Anita yelled between heaving breaths, “It loops back around. Sharp turn on my count and keep running.” Fuck, she really hoped this was going to work. Waiting until he was almost at the clearing, Anita started counting down. “One,” she flipped the lighter open. “Two,” she placed her pointer finger on top of the push button on the bug spray. “Three. Now!” Hoping Chris was able to follow direction, Anita then immediately ran off towards the left, opposite direction. It only caused a second of confusion for the bugs, not sure which of them to follow. 

In that second of confusion, Anita flicked the lighter until a soft orange flame appeared. She placed it in front of the spray, as far away from her body as she could, and let out a steady breath. Then, she pressed down hard on the spray button and the can released a mixture of DEET and picaridin swirled with aerosol and created a massive fireball directed at the cluster of bugs as it passed through the flame. 

Bug spray and a lighter. He knew the idea she had, knew what could happen, but would it work? The clearing to the right, right. Chris made a mental note of her instructions, confident he’d be able to follow when it came down to it. As annoying and loud as the insects were, he was determined to do this right so they could get out of there in one piece. That acid looked like no joke and he wasn’t really in the mood to see what it would feel like on his skin. He acknowledged her order with an audible ‘okay’, even though it felt drowned out by his panting.

One. The clearing loops back around. Two. Sharp turn, to the right. Three. Run. Quick on the toes of his shoes, Chris changed course and sped off towards the right. Anita went the other way. A distraction, that was smart. The too big insects flew right into her trap and became enveloped in a plume of fire and repellent. He had looked over his shoulder for just a second to see the fireball engulf them, losing his footing briefly. He didn’t fall, but the hiccup in his step caused him to stumble and land to his knees. 

Instead of picking himself up, Chris lowered himself further down to his belly, flattening himself and watched the giant bugs burn. It looked like she might have got to them all.

It genuinely didn’t bring Anita any joy to have killed the very insects she had hoped to simply observe that afternoon. But as with many things in life, plans don’t always come to fruition and sometimes you need to craft a makeshift weapon out of hiking supplies.  Thankfully, a few of the Eurynomos that had been trailing behind came around just long enough to see their friends engulfed in flame and they immediately turned in the other direction and flew away before the charred corpses hit the ground. 

After taking a beat to catch her breath, Anita let all of her scales dissipate away as she exited her partially shifted state before starting across the path towards the direction she sent Chris in. She didn't see him at all, at first, and wondered if he just kept running till he found the trail exit and then got in his car and sped out of town. 

A few steps down the path though, she spotted him. “So,” she started before she realized that she didn’t really have a good way to explain what just happened. “Here’s your lighter back.” She tossed the black lighter towards him. “Bet that never happened in the woods in Oregon, huh?” She always defaulted to humor in moments like these, calling back to their earlier conversation. ��Alright well… follow this path back and we should wind up at our cars.” Anita started walking in that direction without waiting for any response or acknowledgment from Chris. 

That familiar, gnawing feeling returned in the pit of his stomach. Or maybe it had been there the whole time, judging by the way his hand seemed to tense up. He always thought the cramping came from anxiety inducing or terrifying instances, but he could never truly explain why his nails seemed to grow or more hair seemed to sprout along his skin. He managed to will it away just as Anita approached him, having looked like she’d won the battle.

Having moved to a sitting position, now that it was safe, Chris caught the lighter and offered her a small, but breathless chuckle and shake of the head at her question. His eyes followed the lighter as he turned it over in his palm; it was lighter now, sure, but he was glad he picked it up. She grabbed his attention again, this time directing him to the path that would lead them home. Or, at least to the parking lot. “Okay, than-” he managed before she was already leaving him in the grass. Well, okay then.

It took him no time to get back onto his feet again. The situation was unusually life threatening and yet she offered no explanation. Was that alarming? Just a little. But he followed after her all the same, grateful for the save and ready to go home.

[mantlehold]

starter for: @createdbyclaire / charlotte.

"annnd you're barging into my apartment to tell me to go to prom, or asking me to go with you? thought you had a boyfriend."

well, by barge; they meant charlotte finding the spare key under the flower pot near their door and politely knocking on their bedroom door before entering.

why was this cheerleader interested in them? they weren't exactly on good terms as they were massive polar opposites in social status and personality.

anita rolled their eyes and laid back down in their bed, staring at the ceiling as they heard the rustle of a bag and a container. cue their head turning and they spy the container of ... jello.

"how'd you know i like jello?" they guessed kaia told charlotte. huh.

[xamassed]

⟬ @goresugars / daiki ⟭

"Ahhh, shit. Son of a——!" She came stumbling around the corner, balance thrown temporarily out of whack before a quick wobble threw it all back into place. Whatever she had been chasing had darted clear out of sight, eliciting a low and frustrated growl from the young hero-in-training.

Quickest solution: grab the nearest person, shake them and demand answers. Not the most heroic way of doing things, but it was better than doing nothing at all. "Did you see a cat run past here? There's a kid crying three blocks away, and I promised I'd get it back to 'em."

[machiavxlli]

Closed Starter

"That is none of your business." Victor was seeing an opera singer from the troop that was passing by. A foreign group making their way through the continent, playing in the most esteemed courts. As far as Victor was concerned, Anita did not need to know any of it. "The day we get used to each other's company is the day hell freezes over." The two found each other endlessly annoying, and the very idea that he now needed to call her his wife did not sit well. But then again, it was his duty as Prince to secure his own line, and a stable marriage in a good family was the first step. "Tell me, why not look for a lover of your own? Might make this whole union more bearable for you." // Cont from here // @saudadexmses