#chatzy: luce

[rocket-remmy]

My Sanctuary || Luce, Nell and Remmy (Feat. Bea)

TIMING: Before the First of the year PARTIES: @nelllraiser @divineluce @beatrice-blaze and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Remmy assembles the Vural sisters to cast a spell on the Mansion and make it into a true sanctuary.

Remmy paced the outside of the house, trying to make sure they had everything Nell had asked them to get. It wasn’t much, she said they were going to bring most of the ingredients, and Remmy was completely okay with that-- but they also didn’t want to make the Vural sisters do all the work. They were going to be doing most of it, anyway. In fact, Remmy already felt a bit useless, but they didn’t have magic, and they couldn’t do magic at all. Being undead prevented them from that, from even being able to give to a spell. Just like with the bracelet Nell had made them, all they could do was rely on others. But, in all their time in White Crest, relying on others was the one thing they’d determined was okay to do. Accepting help didn’t have to be a big thing, and they were starting to believe, now, that they deserved it. That they deserved good things. And making the mansion into a sanctuary was one of the good things they wanted to leave behind. They had just finished their second round of checking the outside of the house when they saw Nell, Luce and Bea pulling up to the house. They waved and trotted over to them. It’d been a while since they’d seen all three of them together-- Nell’s birthday party being the last time, and even then, the three had been spread out among the people. “Thanks for coming,” they said, giving a hearty smile, “I uh-- don’t know what all you guys will need, so I just sorta...made sure everything was in working condition. And clean.” Did cleanliness affect spells? They didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt, right? “So, what first? How can I help?”

Stepping out of the driver’s side of her 4x4, Luce glanced at the Haunted Mansion. She’d been here before, many times in fact, but being here now, with her sisters? And with things being what they were with Remmy? It was… uncomfortable to say the least. But, Remmy needed their help. And she wanted to help. She wanted to do something fucking good. She needed to make amends, right the karmic scales that loomed over her. As Remmy came up to them, Luce kept her face impassive as she stared at the side of the house, as though she was taking stock of the size for the spell they were going to cast. “Clean works.” She said shortly before glancing over at Bea and Nell. They were the ones who knew more about this sort of thing. She was just here to help. To fan the flames. Her fingers twitched at her sides and she forced herself to hold still. She had to be able to help, had to be able to channel her magic. She could do this. “I don’t think we’ll need your help. Bea, Nell?” She said, looking to her sisters. 

Hopping down from Luce’s Jeep, Nell was careful not to jostle the supplies she was carrying, having no interest in dropping any of them and possibly having to start the preparation over. Sanctuary spells were tricky and generally intricate, not to mention needy when it came to power supply. “Clean’s great,” Nell commented, trying to offer conversation that wasn’t the painfully awkward energy Luce was offering in response to Remmy’s words. “We could probably do an energy cleansing as well- just to make sure we’re starting with a nice, clean slate on that front. We brought plenty of sage for it. It’s homegrown, so don’t worry about the over-sourcing of it.” Trying to think of something for Remmy to do, Nell came across something that might actually be helpful. “You could help us position the logs in the circle around the house,” she offered, jerking a thumb towards the pile of massive tree trunks they’d left here another day for the spell. “Super strength would probably be handy there while we fiddle around with it magically.”

Remmy watched the three of them unpack from the car and come over and begin setting stuff up. Luce was still acting distant and they decided to ignore her for now. Smiling over at Nell, they gave a little wave. “Ooh, yeah! I mean, if you think you can do it. I don’t wanna push y’all to do more than you want, or like...getting too overworked and stuff.” They looked between them all before nodding. “Oh, yeah! I can definitely do that! Logs,” the snapped at Nell, “got it.” They went over to the pile they’d left and started rolling the logs into position. Their brain was made for this, really. Setting things up and calculating distances. Whatever the mansion became, they knew that it was going to be good, even if they weren’t here with it. They hadn’t told anyone they were thinking about leaving yet, but they wanted to tell Luce after all of this. She deserved to know first. And then Nell. They remembered fondly the first time they’d met-- back in that dingy bathroom, with Blanche, when they were making the bracelet. The one that was nestled on their wrist at the moment. It was more of a memento, now, than an actual charm. They blinked when they realized they’d been staring too long and went back to rolling logs. When they finished, they came to stand by Nell and Luce. “What next?”

Luce rummaged through the supplies that Nell had brought with them, taking a bundle of herbs from the bag along with some large charcoal sticks. She needed to be in touch with her element for this to work and while she hated the idea of having to break out the training wheels, her magic… it wasn’t what it used to be. Glancing over at Bea, she wondered if she should bring it up to her sister. But, Bea had her own burdens to bear. And Luce wasn’t going to add to that. Holding tightly to the end of one of the sage bundles, she tried to tap into her magic, willing the spark to form in the center of the leaves. It took longer than she wanted, the flames needing to be coaxed out and encouraged to take, but the end of the herbs began to smoke and burn. She cleansed the area while Remmy set the logs out and once the sage had burned out, she tossed it aside, the fire dying almost immediately. “So, next steps… We need the buggane tusk and carve the runes of sanctuary into it.” Luce said, more to the air than directly to Remmy. “Sounds good?”

Once Luce, Remmy, and Bea were done with their bits of setup— Nell began to walk the circle of trees, pulling a buggane tusk from their pile of supplies to bring with her. Every now and then she stopped along the way to bend and carve runes into the wood of the fresh wood, speaking determined words of power over them. For a moment they glowed purple before sinking back into the normality of scarred tree bark, the magic symbols an off-white that stuck out against the darker wood surrounding them. As Nell worked she focused her intentions carefully, knowing how important this was to Remmy, and how important it would be to those that came to seek refuge and safety in this place. They’d find solace here, and hopefully a serenity that would bring them peace in the end. That was her wish for those that would walk the walls of the mansion. As she walked back to her sisters, she kept a string of her magic alive- turning to Luce when she paused beside her. “Alright- light her up.”

Remmy looked between the three sisters, watching Nell head off to begin...whatever it was she was doing. They didn’t really pretend to know much about magic, because they didn’t, and they enjoyed watching and learning more than trying to figure out what was going on themself. Luce idled near them for a moment before she went off to do her part of the inscribing, and Bea joined after a bit as well. They looked around, admiring the moment for a second. Remembering how they met each of the three sisters individually. Nell had been the first, so it was no wonder they were close friends now. They’d been through so much together-- the beach attack, joining the Ring, getting taken together, fighting their way out, helping take Roy down, and so much more in between. There was no one Remmy trusted more with this place than Nell. 

They’d met Bea second. The slight embarrassment from it still lingered in Remmy’s cheeks when they remembered how they’d talked on Tinder, and they hadn’t known the entire time that Bea and Nell were sisters. And when they’d found out, later, when they’d found out Luce was her sister, too, they’d just made more of a fool of themself. But Bea was a constant in their life, even if just on the periphery. She was always there for Nell and Blanche, two of the most important people to Remmy. And that made her important to them as well.

They’d met Luce last, and yet she’d been the Vural that had wormed her way fastest into Remmy’s heart. From the moment they’d met Luce, they’d thought she was someone truly amazing. Her art was inspirational, and her smile was infectious. She’d accepted them as they were for who they were, and whether she’d ever admit it or not, she cared deeply for them. And they cared deeply for her, too. Which was probably why they looked upon her now with a sense of sorrow. Finally, they all recongregated and Nell motioned for Luce to light the fire and start the spell. Remmy looked over at Luce and gave a nod. “Go for it.”

Luce followed her sisters’ lead, going through the motions, letting the other two take the reins as she tried to focus on her magic. Ever since… Lydia, she’d lost her fire. She’d lost the flames that used to come so easily to her and nothing she’d done had brought it back. Helping Adam had nearly been a disaster, trying to scry and see Remmy had only summoned the ghostly spectre of Nadia, nothing was working. None of it was working. But it had to work now. She had to help Remmy, had to do something good for them. Because so much of what she’d done had only ever hurt them. As Nell finished up the last of her runes and Remmy cast her a nod, Luce took a deep breath and reached for the fire.

It was there, but it wasn't at the same time. The fire was burning low, wounded and dying inside her. Her will was strong, her need for the flames to come to her stronger than it had ever been. It didn’t matter, the flames wouldn’t rise. The bundle of herbs she’d lit to cleanse the area smoldered, but they weren’t ablaze. The wood wasn’t catching. Luce gritted her teeth as she tried to bring forth the anger that usually brought on the fire. But, that felt wrong. She couldn’t create a sanctuary spell with the same hate that had flowed through her body when she’d burned Lydia, when she’d hunted Monty, when she’d handed August over, when she’d decided the fate of lives that weren’t her own. She wanted this to be good, she wanted her magic to stand for something better than she was, she wanted to create a spell that could be what Remmy needed. This place was going to be a sanctuary, a place of peace. Someplace that people could turn to when the world was against them-- just like Remmy had been to her. With a deep breath, Luce’s hands rose of their own accord and the scent of crackling ozone filled the air as electricity sparked between her fingers. Love. Protection. Peace. Family. With her sisters beside her and Remmy behind, Luce sent streaks of lightning across the circle they’d created, igniting it into bright flames. “There we go.” She breathed, relief washing over her.

Nell could still remember the first time she’d met Remmy huddled on the floor of Blanche’s dingy bathroom floor, barely understanding what was happening let alone how to escape it. Together, the three of them had created a spell of safety, a way for Remmy to go on and find the life they deserved without being needlessly murdered, charged for crimes they hadn’t even yet committed. From there the pair’s friendship had grown effortlessly, and in the end it hadn’t been Nell saving Remmy from the Ring, but the pair of them saving each other— both refusing to leave one another behind, finishing everything together. That was what others deserved. The chance to be saved. The chance to find safety among friends and others of their kind in the mansion, a place where violence wouldn’t be viable. To finish together. 

That was what Nell thought of as the smoke rose from the burning wood, billowing above the mansion as the spell began to form and she chanted the words of protection and serenity along with Bea. As she spoke the smoke began to shift, and instead of rising into the sky it created a cushion of grey about the mansion, as if it was shielding it from prying eyes, from those who might seek to hurt its inhabitants. The wisps of cinder seemed determined to get into every nook and cranny of the house, making itself at home. And once it had touched every surface it could find, the smoke began to dissipate, finally releasing into the sky above without leaving a single trace of its presence behind. Nell’s shoulders sagged as the spell completed, her hand going a little limp in Bea’s hand as she felt the enormous batch of energy leave her. “Alright...that should be it, then.” She’d have to leave behind care instructions for the spell. After all a piece of magic this big couldn’t go long without being maintained. “There’s your sanctuary,” Nell said with a suddenly tired smile. 

As Remmy watched, a sense of peace fell over them. As the smoke billowed up and around and enclosed the house, they felt as if it were happening to them, too. They watched with bated breath as it covered the mansion and slowly seeped in, becoming a part of the house itself. Creating a place in which supernaturals could be safe and feel the same. A place they wished they’d had. There would be no hunters here, no pain, no Lydia’s hiding dark secrets in the basement. No Alain’s looking at them with disdain and disgust. No Jax’s, using their words against them, trapping them within their own hell. This would be a place of only peace, of only sanctuary, of only safety. Remmy closed their eyes and let out a long, deflating sigh of relief. They could almost swear they felt Nell and Bea’s and Luce’s energies swirling in the ether around them, and they smiled, so peaceful, and breathed in the air.

When Nell spoke, they opened their eyes and glanced at the three of them. “Thank you,” they said simply, “I owe all of you a lot, and this means so much to me. Right now all I have is thank you. And some free food if you want it. Nora had a bunch of extra meat so I cooked up a stew if you want any inside.” A cheeky grin, as they ushered them all in for their thank you payment. But before Luce could go, Remmy reached to grab her hand, tugging. “Wait,” they asked quietly, “can we talk first?” 

Because while the spell might have been done, and the mansion saved-- there were still things Remmy needed to say. Leaving was never easy, but they knew it was the right thing. And Luce deserved to know, too. They all deserved better than life had given them, and this was only the start.

[corpse--diem]

Ring of Fire | Nell, Remmy, Luce, Adam & Erin

Timing: Current Featuring: @nelllraiser, @whatsin-yourhead, @divineluce, @walker-journal Summary: In the dead of night, chaos ensues and The Ring is forced to shut its doors--what’s left of it, anyway.

This was it. The nervous energy that gripped Erin’s chest, making the blood pulse in her ears, was the very same one that sparked something bright and bold within her. Pure adrenaline. There was nothing in the world like it, and the closer they got, the thicker and faster it coursed through her veins. The only distraction were the bottles clinking quietly in her bag as they slipped into the shadows surrounding The Ring. Alert, eyes keen on anything that moved. Knowing what went on behind those walls, who they’d harmed, and especially who profited greatly from their operations left a thick, dark anger sitting heavy in her gut. The depravity was unrivaled. But that’s why they were here. Their final blow to the sick fucks that made so many lives hell and for Erin, the first in a long list of things to come. For now, the plans were set, the parties were divided and ready to go. She glanced over to the Vural sister crouching near her as she pulled out a bottle, the alcohol-stained rag smacking her senses. “Do you have everything you need?” She asked, a final preemptive check in. Her eyes bounced from the building to Luce, lingering on the hands that were quite literally about to make some magic happen. She was the fire power here and Erin knew when to sucede to those with greater expertise. “Ready whenever you are,” she nodded.

Rolling her neck, the material of her choker a reminder of everything that had brought her to this moment, Luce ducked alongside Erin in the shadows. When the other woman had reached out to her, asking for her help-- who was she to say no? Erin had helped their family in ways that no one else could, keeping Bea’s body for them without question. Hearing that she wanted to take down the Ring, to burn it to the ground? It was the least she could do. “Yeah. I’ve got everything I need.” She said, holding up her hands with a cold smile. Luce scanned the surroundings, taking note of the doors, the windows, the thick walls. She wanted to funnel them out. And while a wall of flame would probably work… there were other ways of smoking people out. “Let’s do this.” She said before rising from their cover. As she stood, Luce touched the small silver bracelet around her wrist, alerting Nell that their plan was in motion. With a deep breath, she tapped into the well of magical energy within her, letting loose a torrent of power. The magic manifested itself into a burst of blue flames that shattered through one of the windows, the edges of the glass melted from the heat. The kid gloves were off now.

At the mouth of the hallway that led to the cages, Nell was crouched along with Adam and Remmy, on high alert as she stayed hidden with the two of them, waiting for Luce’s signal. When it came, she waited another long moment until there was a shuffling of feet, and muffled words could be heard down the way about fires and evacuations. Still not speaking, she raised a single hand before motioning it into a beckoning gesture, taking the first few steps forward into the open. She’d put a spell in place to help dampen the sounds of their movements, but invisibility was out of the question at a time like this. It would be a quick drain of her magic to cloak all three of them for an extended amount of time, and she didn’t want to be caught without it in case something went wrong. This path down the dark and damp walls of the Ring was one she knew well, one she’d taken when bringing in the creatures she’d caught for the fight. Being back at the Ring was...strange after the events of the past couple of weeks, the hairs on the back of her arms standing up as she continued to move forwards, searching for signs of life with a heat signature sensing spell every ten feet or so. “I think we’re clear,” she finally breathed, barely above a whisper as she straightened and continued on their trail.

The last time Remmy had held a gun in their hands, they’d woken up without an eye. This would be different, though. This time, they were ready. They were crouched between Nell and Adam, low to the ground, waiting for the signal and Nell’s lead. Being back in this place, especially back down here with the cages, made their skin crawl. But they had to focus. They didn’t have time to think about how suffocating the world was down here. How they’d been trapped down here. How the cage bars, despite being open, had felt smaller and tighter than any walls. The damp air circulated around them like a cloth, trying to choke them. But Remmy reached deep within themself, to the place they hadn’t gone in years, and pulled out the little soldier that always slept inside. Focus. Narrow down your target. Relax your arms. Think only about the mission and the mission objective. Get out alive. Lancer’s voice echoed in their head, and when they opened their eyes next, they were ready. Slinking along the ground behind Nell, firearm held firmly in their hands, alert and in front of them. Ready for anything. They paused in the doorway. “Then get the cages open,” they said to the other two once they were in the clear, “I’ll keep watch.” This time, they would not let their friends fall.

On one hand, recent events had made Adam more determined than ever to abstain from getting enmeshed in human conflicts. He needed to regain focus on the Code if he was going to find some way to atone for ….everything, that’d happened these past few months.

On the other hand, though Adam longed for a conflict was clear-cut, pure, and simple, real life was proving ever less accommodating. This was a chance to strike out at an organization where humans were being killed by monsters. Sure, it wasn’t in the context he usually dealt with. But could Adam really justify turning this down and let people fight, die, and stay in cages just because he couldn’t foresee the consequences?

When Rem gave the signal, Adam went to the first containment room at a half-crouch, tactical knife and pistol held at the ready. A first Adam ignored the battered and withdrawn figures in the cages. Instead he kept to the sides of the cell ward, carefully checking around corners and adjoining hallways for sentries or patrols.

The fact that there didn’t seem to be even a guard or two left behind here put Adam on edge. Even if whatever distraction Erin and Luce were up to was working and had drawn Ring personnel away to to deal with it, surely the mooks wouldn’t just leave all these people unguarded?

Call it Hunter paranoia, but Adam’s ‘oh shit’ vibes were building.

Nevertheless, the mission had a pretty small window to get these people to the extraction point. When Adam had completely ascertained that the inside of the containment rooms were free of guards, he signaled the ‘all clear’ to Nell and began retrieving cage-smashing gear from his tactical vest.

It was one thing to talk about what they were doing here, but the moment Erin watched the windows burst through sheer badass magical fire power alone, she knew she’d recruited the right set of people. “Whoa,” she grinned over at Luce. Already the guards were starting to pour out from the building as smoke and fire engulfed the entrance points. Some were trying to investigate, others were fleeing for fresh air. Erin whistled into the night air as she crouched, setting a lighter to one of the molotovs. “Shaggy! Come here, boy!” she chirped. Within seconds she heard the patter of feet on the ground racing towards her. “Go get it!” She yelled, hauling the molotov at the building. The hellhound burst from the shadows, excitedly stomping towards the fiery ‘toy’, knocking down and chasing off some of the guards who’d grown close to their hiding spot. Within moments, Erin lit another, ducking back down. Whistling loudly, she hauled the next one just short of the building and the second hellhound joined the group. She could hear the guards hollering as more and more emerged. Glancing up, she caught a few more guards headed Luce’s way. She didn’t even think--just whipped out the gun holstered at her side and shot the ground in front of them. Oh fuck. She always forgot about the kickback from this thing and stumbled back a step. “How’re we doing?” She yelled over to her, reaching for another molotov. “They could use a little more heat, don’t you think?” She smirked.

“Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet.” Luce said, the familiar rush of magic filling her with a blazing warmth of power and energy. Watching as Shaggy rushed towards the Ring, she couldn’t help the way her jaw tightened. Nell’s demon dogs, back at it again with the arson. Memories of the horrible things she’d seen in Montgomery’s home spurred her onwards. Watching as few of the guards began to run towards them, she prepared herself, steadying her mind and drawing forth flames. But, her concentration was disturbed as gunshots went off in front of her. Luce flinched, the blue flames sputtering for a moment. She fucking hated guns. She hated guns. Christ. “We’re good!” She yelled, before muttering under her breath, “Stay in your lane.” With a growl, Luce conjured long streams of fire and flung them at two of the guards that charged at her. Screams rang through the night as they furiously tried to beat out the flames, dropping to the ground in an attempt to smother the flames. Waving her fingers, the tendrils of fire began to dance, curling around the guard’s necks. The screams intensified then died as their throats were seared shut by the heat. “C’mon, you wanna go?” She asked, cocking her head at the remaining guards who stared at her, seemingly caught between the urge to charge her and to run for the hills. “Let’s go.” With another flick of her fingers, the flames surged through the air, coiling around the guard’s legs.

Nell wasn’t sure how she’d feel when she faced the cages again. She could still pick out the one she’d been kept in for a week, no room to so much as stretch her cages while she was just given enough food and water to survive, drained on the hour every hour of her magic to make sure she wouldn’t be able to utilize it. For a fleeting moment she stiffened in a natural response of self-preservation, but the anger building in her stomach swiftly came to a boiling point, and as quickly as it had come, the fear went, leaving her ready to strike back at the Ring. As Adam signaled and she felt the ping of Luce’s confirmation on her wrist, she snapped out of the momentary distraction, striding forward to the first cage she could get her hands on before magicking the lock open in the blink of an eye. Start with the more sentient ones first. They’d be able to help undo the rest of the cages, and wouldn’t cause as many potential problems as the beasts and other creatures...hopefully. Nell went to cage after cage, silently trying to get as many open as fast as she could, unable to ignore the feeling that their luck wouldn’t last long. Even if the initial guards had been lured away, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t send someone back, or that another one might just chance upon them. With a wave of her hand, another row of cages popped open, the unwilling fighters spilling forth from them with wonder in their eyes, barely believing that this might be their chance at freedom. Perhaps they’d actually get out of this relatively unscathed. And yet...as soon as she’d thought the words, she stiffened, the sound of rushing air floating over from somewhere down the hall they’d taken to get here. It was as if a balloon had been punctured, the hissing sound of it growing closer as she hurried along the cages. Looking between Remmy and Adam, she jerked her head towards the sound, as if asking them to investigate.

Remmy held position, just like they were taught to be. It was strange being back in a place that had helped destroy them, performing a skill that had helped train them. Their eyes were glued to the hallways, even as their chest constricted, knowing that the place they’d been tortured and starved was just a few feet down. That the cage that had once held Ben was still there, a reminder of the blood on their hands. Of the reason they were here. They tightened their grip a moment, when the hissing sound echoed down the hallway. A soft rattling. When Nell approached and they all shared a glance, Remmy gave the nod and signal that they would go check it out. Crept silently along the wall, gun held  in front of them. Steps could be heard, almost as quiet as their own. Then, finally, Remmy rounded the corner. A figure came into view, spotted right away. But before they could react, Remmy pulled the trigger. Once, twice, right in the knee. The person cried out, an angry hissing. Shit, that meant others were coming. Remmy back peddled quickly, launching into the room. “We gotta go,” they said, “we gotta move.”

Adam had been tending to the fighters whose tenure in the ring had left them crippled and malnourished. Many of the fighters triggered sensations of freezing heat across Adams skin, revealing them to be various inhuman species. However being enslaved was not a crime and Adam distributed revitalizing tinctures the Vurals had given him, carefully applying the luminous amber mixture to the lips and joints of those who were too battered to move.

The monsters of the ring were another matter and Adam had to use both his knowledge of cryptobiology and sometimes some brute wrassling to get incalcitrant beasts on the move without trampling everyone. Paws, claws, tentacles, skittering legs, slithering scales, and humming wings blended together in a strange cacophony as Adam and Nell performed their own strange crossover of Mission Impossible and Noah’s Ark.

Adam wasn’t sure about how wise releasing all these critters was, given that some were highly dangerous. But considering the only two extant options were humans maybe being harmed if they went too close to a magic farm versus being killed for absolute certain in death matches against these monsters, Adam had to go with the former as the most palatable option.

These thoughts were rendered moot by gunfire and Remmy’s guarded retreat into the room. Acknowledging the announcement that shit was going down, Adam put his arms out to lift and support some prisoners who were still struggling to walk, and tried to hustle their conga line of slaves and beasties down the hall.

Luce was definitely good. Erin didn’t mean to stare as the fire flew from her fingers like high voltage ribbons, effectively strangling the guards and tripping up the ones who were trying to flee. “Shit,” she mumbled under her breath, never feeling more human and vulnerable in her life. Sure, she’d helped bring them all here, but she was only here physically for the assist. Not even the guards were human, from what she could tell. The hellhounds were flocking to some of them like a gnat to a porchlight, gruesomely chomping off bloodless limbs. Zombies, maybe? Vampires? The brute strength they showed when they tossed off the hellhounds matched up. Fuck. She wasn’t the only one with a gun. The night sky lit up with the sound and Erin dropped behind a dumpster. Her hands shook as she tried to ready another bottle. Holy fuck. Focused on the flame touching the damp rag. Not the screams in her ear, bones snapping under powerful jaws, the fire roaring behind them. Success. Gravel crunched a few feet from her spot. Without hesitation, she jumped back up to her feet and whirled the flaming bottle right into the face of the guard coming at her. He screamed as it exploded on impact and Erin fell back as she watched him erupt in flames. In seconds, he dissolved into dust. The world pulled into focus again and the sounds around them came rushing back. Keeping going. They just had to keep going. “Any word?” Erin shouted over to Luce, trying to steel her resolve amidst the chaos. God, she was ready for this to be over.

Her attention absorbed in the twin ribbons of flame that coiled and shot through the air at the guards who had come to put a stop to them, Luce didn’t notice the guard that Erin took on until he had exploded into dust. Fucking vampires. Christ. “Watch what you’re doing over there!” She called out to the woman, but the words were joking. She fucking hated vampires, good on Erin for dusting one of them. Letting out a sharp whistle, she tilted her head towards a fresh batch of guards who had come out of the building, armed to the teeth. “Get ‘em, Shaggy.” Luce said and watched as the hellhound bolted for one of the men, ripping his leg off with a savage bite and tearing motion. Swallowing as blood and marrow was sprayed against the cement, Luce lifted the silver bracelet around her wrist to her mouth.

“Nell, how we doing?” She asked, voice calm and level as she directed the lines of fire to rejoin, combining into one bright blue wave of flame that stretched out before her. As Shaggy continued to run around the group that was running towards her, Luce directed her attention back to the building. With a wave of her hand, the flames reared back like a cobra, poised to strike. Deep breath in, the flames remained still. And deep breath out-- the blue flames surged forward, slamming against the windows of the Ring, the material already starting to strain and melt under the heat.

“We’re not done yet!” Nell called back to Remmy, still getting more of the cages open, stretching her magic as far as it could go amongst the locks. Hurriedly, she rushed the latest of those freed from their confinements, trying to be reassuring in her attempts to get them moving, but keeping a sense of urgency. Leaving people and creatures here could be considered signing their death warrants, forced to fight another day, not knowing whether they’d make it out the other end. Luce’s voice on her wrist wasn’t reassuring in the midst of it all, and her own response was terse and tense while she continued on to the last row of cages. “Something’s here. Someone’s found us. We’ll take care of it. We’re just about to open the last of the cages. What about your end?” On top of not wanting to leave anyone behind, there was still the matter of the documents and records Nell wanted to swipe, though if it came to choosing between getting people out and her own personal mission, the choice was clear. Finally, the last of the bars swung open, and Nell ushered the inhabitants towards the exit with the rest of the growing crowd, trying to keep the escapees relatively calm and focused. Of course, that was easier said than done as the hissing sounds only grew louder. It seemed that whatever Remmy had shot wasn’t quite as easily deterred as most by the fall of bullets. All at once, the light from that few lamps above hit the creature, bouncing off its scales as slitted eyes narrowed to get a closer look at those escaping, and those responsible for the breakout. A Lamia— perhaps the biggest one Nell had ever seen was advancing, obviously displeased with the loss of their captives.

The crowd that had gathered in the hallway was beginning to spill out, prisoners and beasts alike ushered away from their captivity. Nell was right, they couldn’t leave until everyone was out. And if Remmy was the only thing between them losing their freedom and this creature, they would stand their ground. This time, they would stand their ground. They held the gun trained on the doorway and when the thing appeared, they fired just above their head, taking out the light. It shattered and sparked and the creature hissed loudly again, stumbling back. “Hurry, get everyone out!” they said, placing themself between the crowd and the snake. “I’ll hold them off!” It would be easy enough to train the gun right on this creature’s head, tap one two right between its eyes, but as soon as they lined up the shot, they froze-- Jax’s eyes staring up at them, angry and blue, covered in blood-- and they lost the shot. In the next moment, the creature was on top of them and with one swipe of its massive arm, Remmy was slammed into the wall, dizzy for a moment as their head hit stone. Hesitation, Lancer had always told them, was death. But now, Remmy could no longer. They whipped the butt of the gun up and around, connecting with the side of the snake-man’s head, before rolling out of the way of another swipe and bounding towards Adam and Nell. “Are we clear?” they shouted, scrapes on their face wiping themselves away, as if they never happened.

Adam didn’t necessarily want to risk gunfire with this many civilians and animals nearby. The walls around them were a large prison of concrete and a stray bullet could ricochet and hit a civilian or strike one of these monsters and cause a stampede. Neither was acceptable if he could help it.

Likewise he was supporting multiple people with his arms and shoulders at the moment. Thus the Hunter was put in the position of being paralyzed by his duty to help the injured to safety while only being able to watch as Remmington got blind-sided by the biggest giant fuck-off cobra Adam had ever seen. Seriously, what had this Lamia been eating? Was it a mutant variation or some kind of…

Ok, not the time.

Adam focused on getting the wounded and weakened out of the cell block, using unnatural strength to just outright haul people like hay bales when necessary. Remmy fell back to their position and Adam confirmed that they were all clear, albeit barely.

Erin kept low to the ground, every sound sending her on edge, reminding her how far out of her element she was right now. This was taking too long. It was working, she knew that. Trickles of previously caged beasts and people alike were fleeing from the building. Good. That was good. She’d focus more on that when she could safely see Nell and the others again. But their window was closing. “How much longer?” she yelled over to Luce, watching one of the hellhounds dragging a charred guard leg toward them like a stick in a game of fetch. If it wasn’t spectacularly gruesome, it could have been endearing. She whistled to catch it’s attention and tossed another bottle back to the building and exploded as it landed in remnants of Luce’s flamework. Her eyes locked in on the building, the outside already scorched and smoking. There was an opening in the cluster of guards. Some moving, some not.  “I’m gonna get closer. The second you know they’re out of there--” she cut herself off. Wasn’t time for this. Luce knew what to do. Well, this was it. She gave a quick nod, crouched back down into the shadows, and disappeared around the side of the warehouse.

Listening to her sister, Luce could hear the sounds of conflict in the background and she did her best to push the worry from her mind. Nell could handle it. With Adam and Remmy down there with her, she’d be safe. “Just-- stay safe, okay? The second you guys are clear, that place is getting blown sky high.” She said before raising her hands in front of her once more. The flames she’d sent at the building at melted through the glass, but they couldn’t go any further, not if she wanted to kill all of them. She didn’t know where the gas lines in the building were, didn’t know what kind of explosives the people in there were packing. If she set the wrong thing ablaze, she’d-- Swallowing, Luce waved the magic away, the blue flames that wreathed the building sputtering out. “Do what you need to, I’ll keep them busy.” She said to Erin before sliding her knuckledusters on and charging at a few of the guards who still remained. Their eyes widened as the witch came at them, armed with seemingly nothing at all. Whipping her hand around, Luce allowed the magic to flow through her fingers, filling her hands with flame as she slammed her hand against one of the guard’s head. A disgusting crunch, followed by shrieking as flames licked the woman’s flesh-- it didn’t matter. These people, they’d kidnapped Nell, been complicit in the torture her sister had faced. They deserved to burn.

“It’s what?!” Nell’s voice cracked on the last word with surprise. That hadn’t been the plan! Not that she was opposed to blowing the place to smithereens. It just hadn’t been what they’d all agreed on beforehand. “You can’t just change the rules mid infiltration!” Jeez, when had she become such a wet blanket? Probably around the time she’d realized that being hasty and not giving all the information about an operation didn’t hurt solely herself. She had a feeling it was too late to change her sister’s mind, though. Which meant they had even more limited time than anticipated. “We gotta hurry them all the way out! I’ll finish here!” she yelled to Remmy and Adam. “This place is gonna come down, apparently!” The enormous Lamia was still advancing, though, and it looked like there was no way she was going to get the papers now. Unless… “Remmy, switch with me!” They would be able to physically carry more people than she could if it came down to it, and even though she knew her friend had the ability to kill, they didn’t always aim to do so. Get the prisoners out, get rid of the lamia, get the papers. In that order. As soon as she’d said the words to Remmy, Nell was darting towards the snake-person. Seeing her advance, the lamia reared its head, opening its maw to spit its fangs, full of venom in her direction. “Shit,” she cursed as she barely dodged, whispering a quick few words as she swiped some blood across her arm. A flash of magic activated the other summoning sigil she’d had tattooed on herself. The first one she’d originally gotten. A fully grown cockatrice sprang forth from the magic, immediately charging the lamia.

Nell called for a switch and Remmy immediately obeyed the command. They were a soldier, a follower-- not a leader. Holstering the gun, they started gathering up people who looked too worn to walk, helping them get out of the room and down the hallway, hurrying them along. If they needed to get out fast, then they needed to start herding more people at once. Remmy knew they would be more help getting people out, but something buzzed under their skin at the thought of leaving Nell behind. They’d been taken together, suffered here together, broken out together, they couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her. “Adam!” Remmy called up to the young boy, “lead everyone out the back quickly. Everyone’s out of the cages, but-- I’m going back for Nell. Find Luce and Erin,” they said, before heading back into the cages room. They gave Adam one last look, one last chance to see if he would join them or do what he was told and get the prisoners out, before shutting the door and looking back over to where Nell was. The snake person seemed to be spitting something at Nell, and even though she’d summoned some sort of angry looking bird, they reared their head and spat again. But this time Remmy jumped in front of it, feeling the wet liquid drip onto their arms. They looked over at Nell with sharp, determined eyes. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Adam has been the one trained to do the suicidal last stand charging around here, and was rather put on the back foot to not be the one playing dice with God today. Normally he’d do something like insist that it was his place to put his life on the line.

However he had his arms full of refugees in a building primed to explode, now wasn’t the time to debate whose life was most expendable here. It felt wrong, but letting these folks explode due to his inability to delegate risk was even more wrong.

“Understood,” he affirmed to Remmington, one soldier to another, and set about hustling the prisoners out of the building.

Nell knew that if they caught her again, they most likely wouldn’t bother with cages. Hadn’t her and Remmy been enough trouble the first time around? No, if the Ring was to have either herself or Remmy in their grasp once again, they’d want to do away with the pair, wouldn’t they? Perhaps that was the reason the lamia seemed to be aiming for kills. Thankfully, the cockatrice that Nell had fondly named ‘Nugget’ when she was thirteen and developing her summoning skills was doing a decent job of taking most of the venom hits, keeping her out of range for  the potentially deadly fluid. Wait where the hell had Remmy come from? Before she could even ask what they were doing, they had already answered, and a fleeting warmth passed over her at their words. “For old time’s sake, yeah?” They’d spent countless time in the Ring as a tag team by this point. It made sense to finish it on the same note. Nell pooled her magic, ready to continue her onslaught of the lamia when she remembered that Luce and Erin were waiting. They didn’t have time for this. “We need the documents. Let her take care of the lamia for now, and we can go grab them!” she finished, jutting a thumb towards the cockatrce that was now dive-bombing the lamia from above, sharp claws extended before it.

Remmy couldn’t help but feel a little excited by the prospect of fighting by Nell’s side again. It had been so long, but they’d done it so much, there was a rhythm now between them that barely needed any sort of verbal communication. But Nell was right-- this Lamia wasn’t their target anymore. They’d come here to get something and they were running out of time. “Right,” they said, before looking back at her, “duck and dive?” They gave a little grin, before turning back towards the snake, watching it tussle with Nell’s bird. When they saw the opening, they charged forward, feinting in their attack. The snake fell for the bait and tried to swipe at Remmy, but they ducked easily out of the way, feeling the whoosh of air from his oversized arm. Meanwhile, on their cue, Nell had taken the opportunity to dive between his legs, and the two ended up together on the other side of him, bolting out the door and down the hallway. Remmy followed Nell to the records room, positioning themself at the door as lookout while she shuffled through the drawers. “Might wanna pick up the pace,” they said anxiously, “I’m getting a bad feeling here.” But it only took a few minutes to find what they came for-- apparently the Ring only paid for security when it came to guarding entrances and not their own employees-- and the two were off down the hallways again, circling back around to meet up with Adam and the prisoners. Little did they know, though, that they were being followed by a slither.

Adam looked back and sized up the enemy and situation at a glance. There were several options, none of them good. He couldn’t allow Jet the Pit-boss Lamia to take any of the refugees hostage, as that’d end up bringing them to a stand-still and possibly kill them all in the explosion. To Adam there appeared only one logical choice, to interpose himself between the refugees and the threat. He set down the prisoners he was carrying, urging them on before barreling across the tunnel at Jet.

This was one bigass snake boi, the kind that Harrison Ford and Samuel L. Jackson had been warning us about us for years, but we fools didn’t listen and now the chonky man-cobra was helping run gladiator games and gulping down the losers like mammalian power bars. But Adam was still surrounded by refugees in this rather narrow passage with cement walls, thus going all Rambo with a rifle on the Roid-rage Mamba here would risk collateral damage.

Adam ran directly at Jet the Lamia. It was a calculated risk, and one Jet responded to by whipping back, tension visibly rippling through the scales of the pit fighter like a scaled cord. Adam was quick, but Jet had more than enough sinuous speed to match the mutant, and a lifetime of glatorial experience besides. Jet matched Adam’s momentum with an unnatural curve of his reptilian body that would’ve snapped a human spine in half. Adam grunted and bit down a snarl of pain as two fangs the size of railroad spikes sank into his shoulder.

Agony rimmed Adam’s vision in red. Everything rippled and felt like ice water as poison sank deep into his veins. But Adam had known ahead of time that it was tactically likely that he couldn’t beat Jet without his weapons and having to shield refugees at the same time. Thus he had decided to take a gamble in order to get Jet close and nullify the warrior Lamia’s overwhelming advantage of speed and flexibility.

Muscles bunched taut as Adam fought back the pain and took hold of the snake-man’s jaw that was currently latched directly into his shoulder and pumping venom into his flesh. Adam twisted away but kept hold, leveraging a foot against the smooth scoots of the Lamia’s stomach. His fee-hand gouged fingers into Jet’s eyes as he snarled with the raw brutish effort.

There was a sickening crunch and wet dripping sound. Adam stumbled dizzily backward,  tearing fangs out of his shoulder while Jet flailed around on the cold cement, blood pooling out from where the Lamia’s entire lower jaw and tongue had been ripped free.

“Nell..could’ya burn him,” Adam slurred, stumbling as the venom played havoc with his nervous system.

One moment Nell had been settling some prisoners atop her summoned cockatrice to be carried out, and the next Adam’s pained noises were filling the air. Her head whipped around instinctively, heart dropping into her stomach with dread as she watched lamia bite into the Hunter. Her adrenaline had already been pumping through her veins, but now it seemed to race, ice-cold worry coursing it’s way through her. It seemed that Adam had been determined to take a piece of the lamia with him, though. As he fell back, the witch first went to him, barely catching his words. The last time she’d felt like this...Jesus, the last time she’d felt fear this strongly was when Bea had died. Her brain was moving too quickly, whirring usually while she looked between Adam and the lamia. “No, I can’t burn it!” she yelled shrilly, it being the only thing she could think to say. She was usually the one who was cool and collected in times like these, but it was hard to keep focus when it was Adam twitching under the effects of a venom that could be permanently paralyzing him as they spoke.

The lamia. Jet the fucking lamia. As they always tended to do, the emotions Nell couldn’t deal with in the moment formed into anger instead, pure and hot as she advanced on the lamia this time. It was her turn to charge the thing, Adam’s blow having left it floundering in the dirt. Emotions were always a powerful tool in magic if used correctly, and she’d learned that rage was one of her strongest when it came to giving a spell brute strength. Advancing on the lamia, she wasted no time in laying her hands on the brute, nails scraping against the surface of his scales as he continued to writhe. She didn’t see one of its meaty legs whip towards her while it  blundered around on the ground, having assumed he was a sitting duck. Nell wasn’t ready for it, and for a moment she went down, trying to catch herself with hands splayed in front of herself. But the force with which the snake-man had kicked was enough for her to hear a slight pop from one of her wrists as landed to the ground, and pain was quick to follow. Thankfully, it only served to fuel her ire.

This time, she put her hands to either side of the lamia’s head, trying to ignore the throbbing of her wrist, and watching for any stray legs or arms that might try and sideswipe her. What had Kaden said it had felt like when she’d dropped him in the kitchen of Bea’s house? ‘Felt like you were going to turn my body inside out.’ That was what Nell wanted to do. Bring the insides of the lamia, out. The blood that was dripping from the wound Adam had struck began to drip more freely, turning from a steady stream to a river, its current coming faster as the red spilled out onto the ground. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she could have sworn that as she stood there with Jet’s head between her hands...his eyes bulged as she looked into them. With a snarl, she tugged on that kernel of magic she’d been prodding more and more as of late, and raised her hands from the sides of his skull. All at once, his head burst open like a water balloon on the sidewalk, blood and whatever else had been left of the lamia’s head painting the front of Nell’s clothes and face. His body went limp, a headless stump now laid on the ground before her. For a moment victory was rich, until she remembered why she’d been so angry in the first place. Adam. The venom. The refugees, and Remmy. Shaking herself from the spot and the headspace, she went back to the Hunter, hands automatically hovering over him, trying to find a way to help.

In the light of day, the first thing Erin noticed on her dry run of the area was how similar the warehouses at this end of Amity all were. It wasn’t an area she visited if she could help it. The Ring was housed within the biggest by far, but all concrete industrial boxes built for efficiency, a few long abandoned. The piping system built along the back of each was almost identical on each one. Here, now, with chaos erupting on either side of her while she slipped through the shadows. She didn’t have magic or supernatural strength like almost every other person by her side. Alone, she was vulnerable. Just a human with a plan, a gun, some bolt cutters and a wing and a prayer. Guards were fleeing, chasing after the winged, furry, scaled and humanoid creatures escaping into the night. The guards that weren’t playing animal control were prowling around the building, though they were far and few between at this point. After the hellhounds hand made the rounds, the ones that hadn’t burned ran for their lives. Already, the air was starting to smell like the crematorium.

Finally, the message came from Luce that the others were out and all doubts, all fears were gone as soon as the auto-pilot in her brain kicked in. She’d watched nearly a hundred videos while Nic explained gas lines and piping until she was confident she could do this in her sleep. She worked quick, adrenaline giving her some sort of ‘mother lifting a car off of her child’ strength. Loose bolts clattered at her feet. She didn’t have time to do all of them but the kick of gas was making her dizzy as it hissed into the air, even through the bandana tied over her mouth. Sure as smelled like enough. Cautiously, very cautiously, she backed away, as fast as she could manage. If she even sneezed wrong, she’d blow up right here with it. And when it was safe, actually safe, Erin ran as far and as fast as her legs could carry her. Didn’t feel her legs moving or the wind in her hair. All she could feel was her heart rattling in her chest. Finally, she forced her feet to still, ducking down behind a supply shed way down along the docks. She was still heaving for breath when she messaged Luce.

“Go.”

Hand to hand wasn’t Luce’s wheel house-- never had been, never would be. She liked swords, liked her fire, liked the explosive wards she could throw down when needed. Her knuckledusters were more of a deterrent than anything else, she didn’t actually mean to use them for real fights. But, she’d made the decision to leave her sword at home because she was just here for firepower. That’s what this whole thing had been advertised to her as, anyways. As one of the vampire guards snarled at her, fangs exposed and ready to strike, she dodged out of the way and sent out a jet of flame that engulfed his face. As she did so, another guard took advantage of the distraction, sending a kick at her stomach. Luce was knocked to the ground, doing her best to roll out of the way as the man circled her, kicking and punching her. She curled up on herself, protecting her face as he attacked. “Fuck off!” She snarled and let loose a blast of fire that radiated out from her. Her attacker backed away with a scream, his clothes ablaze.

Rising to her feet, Luce felt her phone buzz in her pocket once. A text. She had a feeling she knew exactly who was sending the message too. A grin slid across her face and Luce turned her back on the man she’d just set on fire. The building was an easy fucking target, and with the windows burned out, it was almost too easy. Blood dripped down the side of her head and her arms hurt from where the guard had kicked her, but she ignored it. Just one last nail in the coffin and it was good bye Ring. Conjuring up a small ball of fire, she sent it streaking towards the building before turning on her heels and sprinting in the other direction, hands pressed over her ears. The seconds dragged on until a concussive explosion rang through the air and a scorching blast of heat washed over her.

Without a specific moment to focus on, Remmy’s mind began to let erroneous thoughts trickle in. Then again, they weren’t as out of place as they initially thought, as the words ‘blow up’ focused in their mind. This building was gonna blow. Remmy could feel something else trying to trickle in, an old memory fighting its way back through their mind. They grit  their teeth and fought against it, searching wildly for something to hone in on. There. The people. The prisoners still trapped inside. They rushed forward and picked up someone who looked as if they were struggling, hurrying them along. People and creatures alike scrambled to get out the doors, two by two, knocking each other over, biting and hissing and punching. Desperate to be free of this place. Remmy ignored their own instinct to barrel through and started shoving people along, when the loud hissing caught their attention. He was back.

“Adam!” Remmy had tried to warn him, but they were too late. Teeth were sinking into his flesh. He was teetering on his feet. And then-- the smell of blood filled the hallway. A few of the creatures stopped to sniff and Remmy felt their own mouth begin to salivate. No, no. Not now. They couldn’t lose it now. This was too important, too big. They whipped back around and shoved the critters that had tried to turn back outside. Clapping their hands loudly, banging their gun against metal to scare them away. Everything else had run off on its own. Remmy looked back just in time to watch Nell rush towards the creature, hands held up to his head. Somehow, Remmy inherently knew what was going to happen. They could see it clearly in their mind. They turned their head away quickly, picking up a small critter who had gotten injured in the stampede and booked it. Ran as fast and far away as they could before the smell of splattered membrane could reach them.

The small critter struggled in their arms, jolts of electricity rushing through their skin. They yelped and let it go, watching it skitter off quickly. Turned back from their spot in the alleyway to see if Nell and Adam were coming. They needed to get out. Where were they? Eyes searching, desperate.

And then the BOOM! came. Remmy’s mind fell away. Their back hit the ground, head slamming down from the force of the wave. A reminder of what had brought them here. A reminder of how they’d died. Hands digging into wires, watching the timer. A shout. Falling back. Fire licking up above them, smoke billowing. Sand beneath them. Remmy cried out. Hand whipped up to their face where a sudden pain exploded, digging in. There was no blood but they could still feel it, pouring down their face. Reliving a memory their mind had so long forgotten.

Erin felt the warmth, the rush of air and heard the explosion all at once, even behind her relatively safe spot behind the shed. It was the loudest thing she’d ever experienced but--it worked. Holy fuck, it worked. Debris from the building clattered around them and smoke filled the air, dark and thick, even as far as she was from the building. What was left of it, anyway. When it was quiet enough, she chanced a peek from behind the shed. Oh, shit. Remmy. Erin saw them and tried to call out but couldn’t hear herself say their name. Realized her ears were ringing a bit--she hadn’t run quite far enough, she supposed--but she could faintly make out the sirens far off in the distance, the red and blue lights cutting through the smoky, blazing skies. There wasn’t time to check to make sure the rest of them had made it, she could only hope to high hell. But they did it. Fuck. Fire reflected in her eyes as she struggled to get Remmy to their feet and trudge away from the scene as fast as her legs could carry the both of them.

[divineluce]

Nothing Left to Lose || Nadia & Luce

Timing: Late March 22nd, 2020

Location: The Vural House

Tagging: @humanmoodring & @divineluce

Description:  Luce opens up to Nadia.

TW: Sibling death mentions

Letting out a long sigh, Luce stared down at her latest sketch, her fingertips blackened with charcoal dust. It was shit. She knew it was shit. Her heart wasn’t in it, she was drawing like she was going through the motions. Because she was. Grabbing the nub of charcoal she’d been using, Luce scribbled over the forest scene she’d been drawing and began to aimlessly draw. A circle, an oval, and then more lines appeared without her even thinking of it. Before she realized just what she was drawing, the image materialized before her-- Luce sucked in a harsh breath as she stared down at a ruined, melting eye staring up at her from a burning skull. Lydia. Always Lydia. She pressed her palm against the paper, willing the fire to come. She wanted to let the anger wash over her in the comforting way it always had, she wanted to watch the flames rise from her fingertips and spread across the paper. But nothing came. Not even a smoldering ember rose. And the ruined eye stared back at her.

The charm around her wrist buzzed and Luce flinched, heart practically jumping out of her skin. Her hand instinctively closed around one of the paper cutting knives on her desk, before her eyes darted to her phone. Shit, already? She’d lost track of time. Setting the knife back down, Luce flipped the paper over on her desk before heading to the front door, waving her hand over the charmed bracelet that Bea had given her long ago. Taki was sleeping in the middle of the hallway and she stepped over the large Ovenik before opening the door. That was when she realized that she’d opened it before Nadia even had a chance to knock. “Uh. Hey. I heard you coming up the driveway.” She lied. There were just some things that people didn’t need to know, and the protection spells around the house were one of those. 

It was weird getting around without a cast on, but it made driving a stick shift way easier, so Nadia couldn’t complain. Her side still hurt like a bitch, and she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep, but she no longer looked like one of the walking dead. Slowly but surely, she was healing. At least physically. She’d been running late on her way to Luce’s and had forgotten that she was, well, solid. Walking into the doorframe had hurt her pride more than her face, really, and she was just grateful that no one had actually witnessed her mistake except for one very judgemental cat. She headed to Luce’s before she could fuck up and run into anything again. The jump out of her truck reminded her why she didn’t jump much anymore, and she was covering up a wince as she walked to the door. One that was immediately hidden by the slight look of surprise as Luce opened the door. It was so nice to feel emotions again, to not feel alone, even if they were of the more negative variety. “Hey,” Nadia said. Luce felt like residual anger and surprise, and something extra. She was lying. What a strange thing to lie about. Nadia wasn’t one to ask, to pry, as she tried to force her focus inward. She knew Luce was there, could feel another person’s feelings so that her own weren’t cavernously bouncing about in her skull. That was enough. “You said you wanted to… talk, right?”

Luce took the other woman in, eyes flitting from her cast free arm to the bags under her eyes, the slightly drawn lines of her face. Nadia looked like she’d been through hell. Because she had been, Luce reminded herself. Nadia had been shoved from her body for… so fucking long, and she had no idea how much something like that would fuck up a person. The fact Nadia was even standing-- Luce did her best to quell the fresh pangs of guilt that hit her. Nope. No, she was here to explain herself and the baggage she’d carried with her the nights they’d spent together before everything had gone to shit and that bitch Cordelia had taken control. She wasn’t here to add more to Nadia’s plate. She owed Nadia an explanation. Just like she’d owed Remmy one. But, she hadn’t been able to explain things to them, had she? Not in any real kind of way. Not in the way that mattered. Realizing that she was still staring at Nadia, Luce’s default lazy grin slipped across her face. But, it didn’t come as easy as it once had. “Yeah, come on in. Watch out for the cat.” She said, opening the door and stepping over Taki. “He’s napping and if you step on his tail,” Luce gestured with her hand and made a “poof” sound, “He’ll light you up. He melted a lot of my sneakers when I was younger.” Luce headed into the kitchen-- it had been Bea’s space, before she’d left for New York. Their home was divided like that, into designated areas that belonged to each of them. Nell with her greenhouse, Bea with the kitchen, and her with… well, she had her shed. But she’d deferred the outdoors to Nell. And Bea wasn’t here to use it so, kitchen it was. “Want something to drink?”

Nadia knew that Luce was holding something back, that something was weighing on her. Something was always weighing on the other woman, really. She’d figured that out pretty quick. But Nadia was a coward about things like this, always afraid to talk about things that couldn’t be easily controlled, so she always went along with what Luce said as opposed to what she felt. It was easier that way. If they didn’t talk about it, there was less of a chance that Nadia would have to hear something that she didn’t want to, like ‘This isn’t working’ or ‘We shouldn’t hang out’ or ‘You’re impossibly clinging and your concern isn’t needed.’ Can’t be clinging if you do your damnedest to not show that you were attached, Nadia had taught herself that years ago. She had trouble with it, sometimes-- most times-- but it was still a lesson she knew. She returned Luce’s smile as well as she could before looking at the large cat sleeping near the doorway. “Fucking Christ,” she muttered. The cat made Rhiannon, who was pretty fucking big, look like a damn kitten. “Right, shit, okay.” She moved around the cat carefully; she didn’t have a better pair of boots right now. She followed Luce into the kitchen, looking around a bit at the house that three witch sisters had made their home. She looked back at Luce, curious but trying not to let it show. The other woman had asked her out there to talk, but she was stalling. Nadia wasn’t going to stop her. “Sure, I wouldn’t mind a glass of water.”

Grabbing a pair of glasses from the cupboard, Luce filled them up before sliding one across the clean white countertop to Nadia. She wanted to break out a glass of whiskey, honestly, but that… probably wasn’t the right tone to set with things. Nope. No, she just had to… get this shit off her chest. Because Nadia deserved answers, even if she hadn’t questioned why Luce carried so much emotional baggage. “So, uh,” She leaned against the kitchen island, hands wrapped around the glass. She stared at the water, imagining it bubble and froth under her fingers. But, it remained just as cool as ever. Fuck. “I know you’ve been through a lot of shit. And I just wanted to be straight with you about some stuff.” Be straight. What a fucking phrase. A hint of a grin played on Luce’s lips at her word choice, but she forced herself to focus. “So. Like you know, I didn’t realize you were empath when we first started hooking up. And I definitely brought a lot of fucked up emotional baggage into things because,” Luce rubbed the back of her neck, the velvet of her choker pressing against the palm of her skin, “I was going through a lot of shit. And I figured you deserved answers.”

Taking a deep breath, Luce steadied herself. Rip the bandaid, come clean. Explain. In a flat voice, she said, “Someone murdered my sister. And that fucked me up a lot. And I did a lot of really fucked up things to try and feel better about it. I used you. I used someone else I... really cared about.” She said, regret and guilt fresh in her mind at the way she’d treated Remmy. Swallowing, Luce nodded, “I just wanted to say I was sorry. For making you deal with my baggage. I didn’t realize you could feel how much I was hurting and it wasn’t-- I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nadia took a drink of water, waiting for Luce to start. But, when Luce mentioned not knowing that Nadia was an empath, she frowned. “Hey, of course you didn’t-- I didn’t tell you that I was an empath, right? How could you have known? It’s not like I carry around a sign that says ‘Control your emotions around me, please.’” She fidgeted a bit with the cup in her hand before running a hand through her hair, shaking her head. “I’m the one who should-- I should apologize, you know? Because I should’ve told you, and it’s not fair that I just know this shit. I try to turn it off. It’s not fair that I can pry into things.” She didn’t expect Luce to dive right into her sister getting fucking murdered. Nadia was flashed back to the overwhelming grief that she remembered Luce giving off, the incredible pain that the other woman had been in. “What?” she asked, eyes wide. “Your sister-- But they’re both-- How is that--” She blinked harshly. Again, grief. Grief and regret and guilt so thick that she didn’t just feel it but tasted it, too. Was she feeling herself or Luce? Did it matter? Nadia closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t. You didn’t know, and you can’t just stop feeling things. That’s not how it works. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“Still. Even if you weren’t an empath, just… using people like that, it wasn’t okay.” Luce said, thinking back to the nights she’d spent with Remmy, knowing full well how much they cared for her only for her to ignore it. And when she’d finally realized how much they mattered to her, she’d lost them. “You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She said, shaking her head. Nadia had agreed to something casual-- just sex, just something physical. But Luce had been the one to bring her own fucked up feelings into things, not knowing that she wasn’t the only one stuck carrying the weight of them. “Even if you can turn it off, it still wasn’t right of me to do that.”

Luce had anticipated questions, but they hit harder than she’d expected. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d told someone what had happened, what she’d lost. What all three of them had lost, not just with Bea’s death but in the price that came with bringing her back. Lifting her hands to her neck, Luce unclasped her choker. The raised scar that ran along the left side of her neck stood out harsh and jagged under the warm glow of the kitchen lights. “We brought her back. But it cost… a lot.” It’d cost lives. She’d killed. And she’d kept on killing, fuelled by that rage and hate and belief that if she killed people before they could hurt her, then she could be safe. But it hadn’t kept Nell safe, not for very long. It had created an irreparable divide between her and Remmy. And fuck, she didn’t want to lose Nadia too. Which was a… wild thought.  “I just wanted to explain. Because you deserve an explanation for what you’d felt. And to let you know that I’m not exactly the person I was before you… were forced out.” She said, the words feeling inadequate compared to just how much the other woman had suffered. 

Nadia sighed. “No, it’s not, but the fact that you’re acknowledging that makes it better than half the shit that some people pull.” And it wasn’t like Luce was the only person to ever use others. Fuck, Nadia did it all the time when she was younger, when she needed to get out of her own head and just not feel something. There’s nothing better at helping you push your own feelings to the side than using somewhere else’s. Even if it left you feeling like shit the next morning. Nadia knew about that all too well. “I still should have told you when I found out. It wasn’t fair, not letting you know what you were getting into with someone that kind of knows what you’re feeling.” Nadia knew that Luce was in on the supernatural shit. She should have told her. But then, Luce probably wouldn’t have wanted to be around her, and, damn, she really didn’t like the sound of that. Especially since she couldn’t really turn it off, as much as she tried.

The scar on Luce’s neck made Nadia ache, like secondhand pain to go with secondhand feelings. She reached out and then dropped her hand to the side, jaw clenched. “Fuck,” she whispered. “You-- that could have killed you. You could have almost died.” She felt heavy, heavy and panicked. What the hell would she have done if Luce died? Would she even have known? She was out of her depths here, wasn’t she? In this world full of magic and ghosts and near death experiences lurking around every fucking corner. What the hell could she do? She didn’t know anything? “I’m-- Fuck. I’m glad she’s back. I’m really glad she’s back. You deserve to have your sister, but you could have-- God. You could have died.” She rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t deserve an explanation just because I could feel your emotions. Anyone with eyes could tell that you weren’t doing okay. If you tell me anything, it should be because you want to.” She looked at Luce, finally. “I’m not the same person, either.” She wasn’t the same person after the first time she’d been possessed, and then she’d been ripped out of her body, and now she was put back together, but was she really? She’d never be the same. None of them were ever the same.

Luce wasn’t sure if admitting to her fuck ups out of guilt made her better than anyone-- if she was any kind of good person, she wouldn’t have used Nadia and Remmy like that. If she was a good person, she wouldn’t have fucked with their feelings; literally, in Nadia’s case. Shrugging, she shook her head. “Nah. You’re entitled to keep your secrets. I know what it’s like, sort of.” She said, gesturing to herself. “Witch, remember?” Luce said, a slight hint of a sarcastic smile playing at the edge of her lips.

But, it vanished when she saw the expression on Nadia’s face, watched her fingers lift for a moment. Luce swallowed, eyes focusing on the marble of the countertop. The fractal scars that ran across her chest, marking where the lightning had flowed through her veins, they ached at the memory of that night. She pressed a hand against her collar bone, more to remind herself that her heart was still beating than anything else. “It’s alright.” It wasn’t alright. “I’m okay.” She wasn’t okay. As Nadia continued to speak, Luce blinked, surprised and startled by the other woman’s shaky tone. “I could have, but I didn’t. We did what we needed to do and I don’t regret that.” She said. And if there was some part of her that wondered if maybe she should have died, if the pain and death she’d brought into the world would have been stopped, she did her best to push those thoughts aside. She didn’t want Nadia to feel those. She didn’t even want to feel those. “I do. Want to tell you these things. Not just because you deserve answers, but,” Luce paused and shook her head, letting out a sigh as she did so. “I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you. I’ve fucked up a lot by not talking about things.” At the other woman’s admission, Luce glanced over at Nadia and saw she was looking back at her, their eyes meeting for a moment. “And that’s alright. I can't imagine someone going through that and just… popping out as the same person they used to be.”

“Exactly, you’re entitled to your secrets, too,” Nadia said. She gave Luce a slight smile. “It’s not a competition, and you can’t blame yourself for whatever I felt coming off of you. You’re allowed to feel things, even bad things, around me.” She didn’t quite know how to do this, talk about this. It was out of her comfort zone. Anything to do with her own feelings was out of Nadia’s comfort zone, and this whole situation wasn’t helping that. Luce had almost died. She’d almost died, and Nadia had almost died-- had technically been dead-- and everything was fucked, wasn’t it? Luce had almost died. That was kind of a big hang up for Nadia, at the moment. She swallowed tightly as Luce said she was okay, and Nadia wanted to contradict her, but she just wasn’t good at that, not here, not like this. “I’m glad you did what you had to, and I’m glad you saved your sister, and I’m, like, really, really glad you didn’t die.” And maybe if she wished that it could’ve gone any other way, if she wished that Luce hadn’t been hurt in the process, then the fact that she was just relieved that Luce was alive could maybe make up for it. “I want you to know that you can tell me things,” Nadia said quietly. And I want to tell you things, too, but I’m so fucking bad at it unless I just blurt it out and have to deal with the consequences. “You can tell me things.” She raised an eyebrow at the other woman. “And you lost your sister, almost died, and resurrected someone. I can’t imagine someone going through all of that and still being the same. It’s okay not to be.”

At Nadia’s words, Luce glanced down at the choker on the counter, the dark black fabric standing in stark contrast with the white countertop. Maybe she was allowed to feel like shit around Nadia, but that didn’t mean she should subject the other woman to her own baggage like that. Listening to the way Nadia’s voice quieted, the concern in her tone, Luce couldn’t help but reach out and gently squeeze the other woman’s hand with her own. Talking sucked, she’d never been good at it. But, if she could… reassure Nadia that she was still here, still standing, she wanted to do that. Rubbing her thumb against the back of the woman’s hand, Luce’s lips pressed together in a thin line as she weighed all the things she wanted to say. I’ve hurt people. I’ve killed them. I liked it. Until I didn’t, only because I lost someone I cared about because of the pain I’ve caused. She didn’t want to put that on Nadia, but… this was like Remmy all over again, wasn’t it? She hadn’t wanted to tell them anything going on in her mind, she’d hidden behind the flimsy excuse that they didn’t deserve more baggage in their life. But Remmy had wanted to know. And Nadia did too. “I’ve done some pretty fucked up things. I’ve hurt a lot of people. Done… worse than hurt them too. And I’m trying to be better than that,” She said, “But a part of me doesn’t regret what I did and I’m trying… to figure out what that means.” Luce eased her grasp on Nadia’s hand, enough that the woman could slip away if she wanted to. She could leave, if she wanted to.

Nadia couldn’t stop herself from squeezing Luce’s hand back. It was almost stupid how comforting holding someone’s hand could be, especially when it was warm. They just stood there, just for a moment, and the silence was deafening. Nadia could hear Luce. Not really; it wasn’t like she was speaking loudly, and it was quiet, whispered in the back of her head and dripping emotion like a faucet that someone forgot to shut off all the way. She got those, sometimes, words that weren’t hers and weren’t really words at all but spoken connections to the things she felt around her. She didn’t like to think about it; if it was what she thought, then it was another level of prying she didn’t want to consider. So she drowned it out. Truthfully, her thoughts were so loud these days that it wasn’t hard. And it was a lot easier when Luce spoke out loud again. Fucked up things. Fucked up things like killing people, maybe. Nadia took a deep breath and nodded her head a bit. 

Where did Nadia draw the line, these days, when it came to fucked up things? Before, she’d been pretty pacifistic. There was always another answer besides murder, hadn’t she told someone that? Death was something that should be avoided. But then she’d settled in here, and she’d been totally unsettled from her life, and now she-- she was responsible for someone’s permanent removal from, well, everything. Cordelia was a shit person, but did she deserve that? Yes. Nadia wanted it. She had to deal with that every night. She removed her hand from Luce’s and moved it to the other woman’s neck instead, her hand lightly ghosting over the scar tissue. “Why did you do it?” she asked. “These fucked up things? Did you have a reason, or was it-- was it just to do it. Because I think there’s a difference.”

The sensation of Nadia’s skin against her own, her hand squeezing softly, it reminded Luce of the last time they’d spoken. But, the touches then had been cautious, tender gestures hidden behind a guise of helping Nadia with her wound. This? Now? It was… different. Real. And that was fucking scary. When the other woman pulled away, Luce swallowed, a lump forming in the back of her throat. She didn’t want to know. She’d chosen to-- but then, Nadia’s fingers were reaching out to skim across the skin of her neck. She could barely feel the sensation, but Luce let her do it all the same. No one had touched the scar that wrapped around her neck, no one. At Nadia’s question, Luce paused. “The first time was because… he stole my sister from me. He destroyed my family and we-- I had the chance to bring her back. And all it would cost me was the man who’d taken her. The second time was-- revenge. Bea wanted it, Nell wanted it, I wanted it too. We were all just so… angry.” Luce cleared her throat, shaking her head free of the memories of that night, when the Hunter had become the hunted. “The next time, I was scared. Scared of losing my sisters after I’d done so much to bring them back. I wanted to protect them.”

Luce paused, bridging her hands together and resting her chin on her hands. “And the last time. I don’t-- I want to say I was protecting people. I want to say that I was doing something right. Because she was a horrible person. She’d kept people trapped in a basement, she was using people, had been using people for so… so long. But I didn’t know that until after. I just knew she was dangerous and when someone,” Some kid, “convinced me that she was too dangerous to live. And I let myself believe them. I let them use me.” Luce bowed her head, forehead pressed against her hands now. “I don’t know if there’s a difference to those things.” It doesn’t change what I’ve done.

Nadia felt Luce’s turbulent emotions give way as she brushed her fingers over the scar before she moved her hand to rest against the other woman’s shoulder. She felt stable, grounded. She nodded her head. “I can understand the first time. That was-- It was a trade, his life for hers, right? And that kind of makes it worth it, if you can get something good from doing something like that.” She closed her eyes tightly. “And revenge, I-- I get revenge. Maybe not like that, but I get revenge.” Satisfaction over watching Cordelia fade, so potent that it drowned out any pain that she’d felt. It was pretty fucking powerful stuff because, Christ, Nadia had been in so much pain. “Fear, too.” As the conversation went on, it was getting harder for her to tell where her emotions stopped and Luce’s started, and she had to work on that, had to figure out whose anger was whose and whose satisfaction and whose guilt and whose pain, like untangling a ball of yarn that had been knotted over time. She needed to socialize more. This probably wouldn’t be so goddamn intense if she learned to control it better. 

Opening her eyes to see that Luce had her head in her hands, Nadia gently tugged on the other woman’s chin. “Hey,” she said, her voice just as gentle. “She was a horrible person.” She knew that Luce believed this, could feel it. “And maybe that’s not an excuse for her to die, but I believe you when you say that she was a horrible person. And, like, the fucking guilt is kind of eating at you,” she said. “It’s not like you killed her and then decided not to think about it ever again. You don’t seem to be taking joy in it.” Nadia came to grinning. She stood in the middle of a convenient store looking down, something like pleasure and joy working it’s way through her system. There was a young man behind a cash register. He was dead. Nadia didn’t even have time to scream before she lost control again. She swallowed. This wasn’t about her. “I think there’s a difference.”

Feeling the way Nadia’s fingertips trailed from her neck one last time to press against her shoulder, it took everything in Luce not to lean into the touch. She didn’t want to put more of this on Nadia than she needed to, she didn’t want to test how much more the other woman could bear. And she wanted to be able to handle the rejection, the disgust and the fear that would come. But… it didn’t. Not in the way that Luce had thought. Nadia… understood? Maybe not on every level, but she could understand to a degree why Luce had done these things, why she’d killed. That was far more than Luce had expected. 

Letting Nadia tilt her head up, Luce looked back up at her for a moment before averting her eyes. Luce wanted to protest, but then she heard the next words. The guilt was… fucking destroying her. She’d been-- for lack of a better word-- haunted by what she’d done that day. She still remembered the way that Lydia had begged for her life, she could still feel the spear in her hand as it pierced through flesh and bone. She still saw the blue flames consume the woman’s flesh when she closed her eyes. “Maybe not now. But I did, at one point.” She said, memories of tormenting Montgomery, making him writhe and burn on the ground. “And I’m not… I don’t want to be like that. Which is why I figured-- that I should tell you. Because this shit, my… issues, they’re fucked up.” I’m fucked up, was what she wanted to say, but that felt real fucking dramatic. “I’m... trying to figure out where the line in the sand is again. It’s just hard when you’ve crossed it so many times.” 

“Now’s kind of what matters, Luce,” Nadia said, letting her eyes fall closed with the other woman’s. She didn’t move her hand, not wanting to pull away unless Luce pushed her. It felt grounding to just touch someone. She rarely felt this present, anymore. Sometimes, Rhiannon would jump on her chest and scare the hell out of her because she’s just been laying there, feeling like she was about to fall through the bed. This was real, this was tangible. “Now is what we live in. Before sucks. And, yeah, okay, you enjoyed it. You don’t still enjoy it. We would both still know if you enjoyed it.” For all of Nadia’s talk about living in the now, in the present, she… wasn’t very good at taking her own advice. But, then again, Nadia had never really taken her own advice. She knew a fucking ton about other people, but when it came to her own shit, she’d never quite figured out how to work through her own problems. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying to help Luce, everything else be damned. 

With a nod, Nadia said, “I’m glad you told me. I’m-- you can tell me whatever, okay? Seriously, anything. I’m not going anywhere.” I couldn’t stand to lose you. I’d like to be around you in any way that I can. Thinking about you aches but in a good way. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, I totally get fucked up shit. Maybe not in the same way, but I fucking get it.” She sighed. “Nothing’s simple, not really. I used to think that everything was super black and white, but, fuck, that was years ago, actual years ago.” Back when she was frustrated by everything and felt like every lie she was ever told, every lie that she knew was a lie, was a slight against her. Back when she thought that justice was real and ghosts weren’t, when fairytales were just fascinating stories and the only thing that could hurt her was cruel actions and crueller words. “Then you find where you want to put your line, what you will or won’t do, and, if you cross it, figure out why before the guilt kills you.”

When Nadia’s hand remained where it was, Luce reached up and pressed her hand against the others, threading their fingers gently together. She wanted her to stay. She didn’t deserve it, didn’t think Nadia should have to deal with her shit. But that mentality-- among all the other mistakes she’d made-- was part of what had cost her Remmy. And she didn’t want to lose Nadia too. “Yeah. Now’s what matters.” Luce echoed. The past was… going to stay with her. The knowledge of just how far she would go, of how terrible she could be? That knowledge was a burden that she would carry for the rest of her life. And maybe she could atone for it. Maybe she could be more than the sum of her parts. She hoped that she could. 

Luce lowered their intertwined hands to the counter, squeezing lightly as the woman spoke. “Thanks. And that goes for you too. Shit. I’ve been… I know I said I wanted to talk, but I didn’t… You’ve been through so much too. You can talk to me about it. I’ll be here.” She said with a nod. She’d be here, as long as Nadia wanted her. She still couldn’t help but wonder if she could have helped Nadia escape sooner if she hadn’t been such a fucking coward. And a part of her knew she’d never shake that thought. But, she wanted to be there for Nadia now. While she could. While they were both here. “Yeah. It’d be nice if things were like that.” She sighed, looking down at the black trails of ink under her skin, all neat lines and crisp edges. All of her art was black and white, clear cut and straight forward, while the world around her operated in shades of grey. “Mhm.” She nodded before glancing back up at Nadia. “I…” I’m sorry. I wish I could have saved you. I don’t want to lose you again. I’ve never known how to tell people the things I’ve said to you and that’s scary. I’m so fucking scared of you and for you and of what that means. Her eyes flicked to the clock and she let out a soft curse in Turkish. Time had gotten away from her. It’d been doing that, lately. “It’s, it’s kinda late to be driving. Did you-- you can stay, if you want.” Please still want to. Please still want me.

It would never stop being comforting, Nadia thought, the warmth of Luce’s hand in hers. And maybe it was just that she was fucking touch starved, that she was desperate for any sort of contact. But she didn’t really think that was the case. She liked Luce, way more than she should, way more than felt safe, sometimes, seeing as where they’d started, the boundaries put in place. Because Nadia was an idiot with things like this. She’d allowed this… whatever it was to keep going, and she’d genuinely started caring about Luce, and now she couldn’t stop. It was one of those big fears, up there losing herself again. She was scared of coming off as clingy, had been called that one too many times before, didn’t want to go through that again. But she couldn’t really help it as she rubbed her thumb against Luce’s hands. She craved warmth like a cat seeking out a patch of sunlight. She knew this. It was damning.

“I know,” Nadia said, giving Luce a sad smile. “I swear, as soon as I figure out what the hell to even talk about, I’ll tell you, if you want, okay?” Because where the hell to even begin about all of this, right? Hey, so, I’m not really sleeping, which is saying something because I didn’t sleep much before, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I still feel like she’s there, hanging out in the back of my head even though I watched them destroy her, and I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know what I did, and my guilt’s killing me, too, you just can’t feel it like I feel yours. That was a lot to unpack. That was a lot to say. Nadia didn’t know how to get those words. “God, I’d love for something to be simple,” she murmured, more to herself than to Luce. She was startled a bit by Luce bringing up the time, looking out the window and seeing that it was late. Which, yeah, she could drive back. She was a big girl. So she said, “I want, yeah, actually. I’d, uh, really like that.”

The way Nadia looked at her, the way her hand pressed against her own-- Luce swallowed, trying to keep her emotions in check. But, that expression on her face… hurt. Nadia had been through so much. She’d been through so much in the last year alone, not to mention everything in her past. She’d been possessed, exorcised, possessed, exorcised-- that kind of trauma, it couldn’t be easy to deal with. It was a burden that Luce couldn’t fathom. In the same way she could never understand what Remmy had lost, what Bea had lost; there were so many things that she couldn’t understand. But she wanted to try. She wanted to try and-- help. For once in her life, she wanted to do something good for someone other than herself. She wanted to be someone the people around her deserved. A good sister. A good person. A good… whatever she was to Nadia. “I’ll always listen.” She said with a nod before tugging Nadia’s hand. “Yeah, yeah. Sounds good. C’mon.” She said and tugged gently at Nadia’s hand, leading her back to her room. 

After they’d settled down in bed, Luce pushed back a lock of Nadia’s hair from her face, eyes cautious even as she stared at the other woman. Words, unspoken, remained in the back of her mind. I’m glad you’re here. I wish I could have done more. I wanted to be there for you, I want to be here for you now. I want to be someone you can rely on. Someone worthy of… anything. Of you. Of this. Those were all the things she wanted to say. Instead, Luce offered a crooked smile. Ignoring the way her heart seemed to stutter-step in her chest, she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against Nadia’s temple. “Night.”

[humanmoodring-retired]

Old Wounds and New || Luce & Nadia

TIMING: Current  PARTIES: @divineluce & @humanmoodring SUMMARY: Luce brings Nadia’s cat back. Neither of them feel a single feeling at all. CONTENT: Medical blood, mentions of sibling death

“C’mon, I’d thought you’d be happy,” Luce said to the mrowling cat carrier in her hand, the small bag of toys she’d accumulated over the months for Rhiannon slung over her shoulder. “Aren’t you glad to be away from Taki and Dia? Iggy too, but he never tried to swat at you.” She said. Her familiar had been remarkably tolerant of the large grey cat when she’d first arrived in the Vural home. He’d always been friendly towards Taki and Dia, but that was expected of her sisters’ familiars. But Luce had been surprised at his general friendliness towards Rhiannon, as a normal, ordinary cat. Making her way up the familiar steps, Luce paused outside Nadia’s door. She was back. This wasn’t a trick, it wasn’t some fucked up double take moment. She was back and she was here and-- Fuck. “You’re just here to give her back her damn cat.” Luce whispered to herself, trying to tamp down the rapid pounding in her chest. She still remembered what she’d learned the last time she was here, how Nadia could… sense emotions. That Nadia was an empath. She didn’t want the other woman to have to deal with her own muddled feelings on the situation. After all Nadia had been through? She didn’t need Luce’s baggage.

Swallowing, Luce knocked on the door. When it swung open, she offered an easy grin and held up the yowling cat carrier. “Someone’s been missing you.”

Nadia had been staring at the bathroom mirror for… she didn’t know how long, actually. It had been awhile. Long enough that she was startled when she heard the knock on the door, cursing and stumbling to the front door. She ran her good hand through her hair, tried to look as presentable as she could in sweatpants and a cardigan. The bandages around her stomach were mostly hidden. She didn’t look great; she hadn’t been sleeping well, and she was still pretty fucking pale, and she had a damn cast. But she didn’t look like a corpse anymore, which had been the look she’d been rocking for a few weeks. She opened the door, positioning her arm a bit to where it wasn’t the most noticeable thing. “Hey,” she said, giving Luce a tired smile. She looked at the cat carrier, at the large, hissing creature inside it. “Oh fucking Christ.” She opened the door up wider, swallowing. She could actually feel Luce, decently, even if she couldn’t quite figure out what the other woman was feeling. It had been a really long time since she’d felt anyone else’s emotions, properly. Regan’s were so muted, and Nadia’d been trapped in her own head for so long that she’d begun to worry if she could even still feel. It was a relief to know she could. “Yeah, yeah she looks like she’s missed me a ton,” she said, laughing a bit.

Nadia looked like shit. But, Luce realized that was kind of their MO. More often than not, Luce had seen Nadia looking less than put together, tired and drawn, exhausted by the town they lived in. And, she’d been in the same situation too. But, this time around, Luce was the one who wasn’t visibly wounded. “Hey.” She repeated with a nod. Her nonchalance didn’t hide the way her eyes flicked across the woman’s body-- not checking her out. Checking up on her. She was seeing the extent of the damage that poltergeist bitch had left on Nadia. And fuck, it looked like the other woman had been through hell and back. Even so, relief spread over her as she heard Nadia’s voice again. It was the same voice that the poltergeist had spoke with, but it wasn’t. It was Nadia. It was her. She was back, she was really back. Swallowing, Luce ignored the urge to reach out and touch her face, to make sure that it was really truly her. She instead walked inside, unzipping the cat carrier as she did so. “Trust me, she did. She was a mess the first couple months.” Luce said as she pulled the frazzled cat gently from the carrier. “C’mon. Look who it is.” She muttered quietly to Rhiannon, letting the large grey creature jump from her arms.

Relief and concern that weren’t really hers washed over Nadia like a fucking wave, and she had to blink the feelings away. Alright, yeah, it still worked. It was nice to know that it still worked, even if she felt like a raw nerve. She thought about saying something, but she didn’t. She shut the door instead, leaning against it a bit before turning around. There was something warm that tightened in her chest in seeing Luce, in seeing Rhiannon, in actually being there in the room and not just being a shade. It was almost too much, to feel real and have that feeling not be connected to pain or dread or sleeplessness. She watched Rhiannon walk around the apartment hesitantly, and then look at her. The last time Rhiannon had been here probably hadn’t been a good one, and Nadia had no clue if the cat could differentiate between her and Cordelia. They seemed to be at an impasse. Nadia bent down, flinching a bit at the flaring pain in her side. She held out her good hand tentatively. “Hey, hey. She’s not here anymore.” She swallowed tightly. She glanced up at Luce. “I was gone a really long time, wasn’t I?” It felt even longer than six years, even though it had only been a few months. It felt like a lifetime.

Luce kept a watchful eye over Rhiannon and Nadia as the two interacted. She didn’t really know how they’d left off, only that Nadia had fought off the poltergeist long enough to contact her about taking the cat from the apartment. Which probably meant things hadn’t been the greatest. Noticing the way Nadia winced, Luce blinked, suddenly taking in the cast on her arm. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but that’s a stupid question given everything that’s happened. Do you want to… sit down or something?” She asked, glancing around if there was a chair she could bring over or something for her. “And, yeah. Yeah, you were.” Luce said, a touch guilty. She didn’t know exactly how long Nadia had been gone. How long had that bitch masqueraded around, how long had she actually known the other woman? At least five months, she knew that much. At least five. But more than that? Luce had no idea.

“I’m fine,” Nadia said without thinking, focusing on Rhiannon as the cat sniffed at her fingers hesitantly. Did she know? Did animals know when their person wasn’t… their person? She sighed, looking back up at Luce. The other woman felt like guilt. Nadia couldn’t imagine what, out of the two of them, she had to feel guilty about.. “All I’ve been doing for weeks is sitting down or resting or sleeping.” That last one was a little iffy; sometimes she slept well, but most of the time she did not. “It’s nice to not be doing… that.” Even if it hurt like a bitch, the stitches tugging a bit with her movements. The stitches. Right, that was what she’d been doing, before Luce had showed up. She needed to change the dressing. She brushed a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, about that. I don’t remember, like, a lot, while I was possessed-possessed, but I remember you coming over for some phoenix tears, and I remember you being here another time, and I-- Fuck. Sorry. About all of that. Especially asking you to keep her for so long.” Asking someone that you were literally just fucking was really, really stupid. She realized that, now. Nadia was just lucky Luce had been nice enough about it. She looked at Rhiannon before moving to get up, slowly. She gave Luce a tight smile. “I’m, uh, not great company right now. Actually, I’ve got to, like, redress some shit, and that takes a while, and, I mean, if you don’t want to be here, I get it.” She did. Luce was in no way obligated to stick around.

At Nadia’s quick rebuke at her offer, Luce stiffened slightly. But, why should she? If Nadia said she was fine-- still looking at the other woman, Luce watched the way she moved. No, she wasn’t fine. But, she could understand the frustration of being stuck and stagnant. “Fair enough. I won’t stop you.” She said with a shrug. As Nadia recounted the brief moments she could remember, Luce thought back to those moments. Phoenix tears? No, but that was-- Luce’s eyes went wide as she realized just how long ago that was. “Phoenix tears. That was back when, when…” Swallowing, she pressed her fingers to the choker that covered the thick scar around the side of her neck. “Shit. That was a lot… A lot longer than I thought.” She said, shaken. Nadia had been gone that long? And Luce hadn’t even noticed, not for at least another month. Swallowing, Luce shook her head, “No, don’t worry about it. I’m used to cats. And Iggy liked the company.” She said, still stuck on the timing. The phoenix tears, she’d needed them before she had to rescue Nell and Remmy. That was July. And Nadia was only just back? Fuck. Fuck.

As Nadia stood up gingerly, Luce reached out to help her but stopped short. Her fingers hovered tentatively before she cleared her throat. “Do you want help? I know a bit about first aid stuff. And I wrap tattoos everyday.” She asked, the offer half for Nadia and half for herself. She didn’t want to be alone, trying to make peace with the disturbing new timeline that faced her. She didn’t want to leave Nadia alone either, not after all she’d been through. But, they’d never been like this before. If the other woman wanted her to leave, she would.

“I appreciate that.” Nadia was grateful, really, that Luce wasn’t being overbearing in making sure that she rested. Then again, Luce didn’t know just quite how close Nadia had gotten to dying, and Nadia had no desire to let her know. She didn’t want to feel Luce’s pity in addition to, just, everything else. She couldn’t handle it, didn’t want it. She let Rhiannon butt her head against her hand, felt the soft fur underneath her fingers, blinked something warm and tight out of her eyes. She looked at Luce, trying to discern what had upset her, why she touched at her neck. “I’m not sure how long it was before the tears and everything that she-- Yeah, I don’t know. You, uh, you still figured out sooner than anyone else, I think.” Nadia wasn’t… she wasn’t upset with how long it took people to figure anything out. She wasn’t. She didn’t even know if she could be; no one had ever figured it out before. She threaded her fingers through long cat fur, taking comfort in it. “Iggy is your… salamander, right? I’m surprised he likes cats, especially this one.” She’d have smiled if she wasn’t feeling choked by whatever Luce was feeling.

“It’s-- I mean-- You don’t have to,” Nadia had to say quickly because the truth was that there was really nothing she wanted more than for Luce to stay, and she was at a loss for what to do with this information. She just didn’t want the other woman to see her like this, like she was shattered glass. She’d almost punched her mirror the other morning, only stopping herself with the knowledge that she needed at least one good hand if she didn’t want to be a fucking invalid. “I… wouldn’t mind the help, though.” The words felt thick in her mouth, hard to admit. “It might look a little worse than it actually is, though.” Or maybe it was the other way around. It wasn’t that bad, not really. Just a clean stab wound. One that went through her liver and her large intestine and could probably still get infected and kill her, maybe. She didn’t know. Wryly, she added, “I feel like you keep running into me at my worse.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Luce murmured, mind still reeling from the revelation of just how long Nadia had been gone. She’d been possessed since… since Bea had gotten back. She’d been gone for that long. Her fingers dug into the soft velvet of the choker, pressing it into her neck as she tried to figure out the timeline of events. Nadia had gone before the tears? Christ. But, at the other woman’s words, Luce stared at her in surprise. What? How did other people not figure it out sooner? “Really?” Did that mean she was to blame for Nadia been stuck like this for so long? Should she have tried to tell people? Should she have acted sooner? But, the poltergeist, she’d said that she would kill Nadia if Luce did anything. Shaking her head of the thoughts, Luce nodded at Nadia’s question. “Fire salamander. And familiar. He grew up with my sister’s cats around him all the time so he doesn’t mind them much. I think he was just happy to have one around that was normal for a change.” She said with a slight smile.

“I offered. I don’t really do that unless I mean it.” Luce said. It was true. She’d never been the type to really give a shit, but when she did… She meant it. At least, she thought she did. The memory of Remmy, of them leaving, of the moments they’d shared together… she’d given a shit then, but it was too late. There was too much distance between them, too much pain that she’d caused for them to see past. And, Luce realized, she didn’t want that to happen with Nadia. Not really. “I’ve seen some pretty nasty wounds,” Like my sister’s decapitated body, “ so, don’t worry. I can handle it.” She said with a nod. “Well, hey. Next time I get fucked up, you’ll be the first person I call.” Luce joked.

Watching the way Luce’s fingers played with the choker, feeling secondhand pain and surprise and everything else, Nadia’s own fingers went up to her neck. “Really,” she repeated. “Though, I-- I think that you found out, and then something really shitty happened, and that’s when everything went to shit.” The cabin had happened, and she’d left her apartment, and she and Cordelia had been snatching control from each other without even meaning to, on her part. Then the botched exorcism, then the real exorcism, and now she was back. She was back, she was back, Nadia had to keep reminding herself that she was back, solid and real and a person, living and breathing. She might have grabbed at Rhiannon a bit too hard before she forced her fingers to let go, took a breath, relaxed. “I’m glad she wasn’t awful.” The cat moved away, flicking her tail and roaming the apartment to refamiliarize herself with it.

Nadia stood, doing her best to keep her hand from moving to her side. The pain was more of a tugging sensation than anything else, a discomfort rather than something debilitating. “I-- Okay. Thanks.” Nadia laughed slightly. “I’m really hoping that neither of us get this fucked up again for quite some time.” But the thought of that, not just Luce getting hurt but the fact that the other woman trusted her enough to tell her about it was a lot. Maybe it was just a return of favor; I saw you at your worst, so you can see me like that, too. That sounded stupid. She shifted a bit from foot to foot before clearing her throat. “Right. I’ll, uh, I keep everything in the bathroom, but you don’t need a mirror to see me-- well, this time-- so I’ll just grab it and be back. Just, like, wait here.” And she forced herself to walk to the bathroom at a normal pace. She leaned against the sink, just for a moment. She just needed a moment. Then, she grabbed the first aid kit, walked back out. She fumbled with it. “Before we do this, it’s not, you know, as bad as it looks, okay?”

“Fuck.” Luce muttered under her breath at the woman’s words. Her eyes flicked to Nadia’s hand, at the way she was touching her own neck and remembered what the poltergeist had told her-- shit. Dropping her hands to her sides, Luce tried to steer her thoughts away from her own issues. She didn’t need to pile more shit on to Nadia, not when she looked like she’d already been through hell and back. And fuck, that’s basically what had happened, right? She’d been forced from her body, a lingering soul on this world. If that wasn’t hell, Luce didn’t know what was. Running a hand through her hair, Luce shook her head, “Nah, she was fine. She’s a good cat. A punk sometimes, but a sweet one.”

“Yeah, for sure.” She said with a nod, watching Nadia get the first aid kit with apprehension. Luce let her grab the supplies on her own, even though she could tell how much the effort pained the other woman. “In this town, that’s a pretty tall order,” She said, “But, here’s hoping.” Because really, Luce wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. How much more punishment could White Crest hand out to her before she finally threw in the towel? She didn’t want to find out. Luce watched Rhiannon pad around the apartment as she waited for Nadia to grab her supplies from the bathroom. The mention of the mirror made Luce wince. “I still don’t really know why that happened.” She said, more to herself than to Nadia. “My magic’s been… a bit fucked.” She glanced down at her tattooed knuckles, staring at the triangles on her fingers. Luce pulled herself from her troubled thoughts when Nadia returned. “Saying that generally means it’s just as bad as it looks, you know that, right?” Luce said, though she nodded all the same. “But sure. I’ll take your word on it.”

Punk was a good word to describe the cat, Nadia thought fondly as she watched Rhiannon jump onto the counter as if she owned the place. Fondness filled her, familiar and comforting, before she turned back to Luce, the other woman’s more negative emotions sobering her. “Here’s hoping,” she said softly. “You mentioned your magic, I think, when-- when. I’m not complaining about that. I-- There were only so many people that could see me, then, and I didn’t want to bother them all the time, you know? But, like, God, I sometimes would just..” She’d just forget to be, just disappear for hours or days and she didn’t know. She just didn’t fucking know. “It was good to see you, then, though.” Nadia scrunched up her nose up a bit. “Yeah, I know. I guess I should say it doesn’t hurt as bad as it looks.” She fumbled with the buttons on her cardigan with her good hand, muttering, “I swear I’m decent at this. You know I’m decent at this.” Nadia used to be pretty damn good at getting things off with one hand. She finally pulled it off, standing in just a tank top, her fingers hesitating with the hem. She was having second thoughts about this, more than a little self-conscious about her injuries. Finally, she pulled her shirt up to her ribcage, exposing the mess of bandages on the right side of her abdomen, her back. “It’s not deep,” she said, trying to keep her tone light. “I’ve been told that’s because it goes all the way through.”

Luce nodded, because she wasn’t sure what else she could do. She couldn’t say that she understood, because she didn’t. She couldn’t offer any kind of advice or any real kind of support. All she could do was listen and nod and hope that it helped Nadia in some way. “Well, in that case, I’m glad that it happened. Not that I wasn’t before.” She let out a breath, “I was mostly just…” Scared. She didn’t want to say that, didn’t want to voice the feeling. But, Nadia probably already knew what she meant. Lips quirking at the joke, Luce’s smile froze when she took in the bandages that were wrapped around Nadia’s side. “Shit.” She said, moving forward, hands outstretched to help her. Luce hesitated and her fingers hung inches from the other woman’s form. “I-- Let me help you out of that shirt. It’ll be easier to change the bandages without it in the way.” She said, before grabbing a pair of gloves and a roll of bandages from the first aid kit. “All the way through? What happened to you?” Luce asked quietly as she uncapped a bottle of antiseptic.

“I understand,” Nadia said, before she panicked, just a bit. “I mean, I really understand. I don’t-- Did I ever-- I’m an empath, I didn’t tell you that, before, and you-- you deserve to know that, even though I don’t really fucking get what it means most of the time.” She felt a tightness in her chest, uncomfortable and problematic, and she had to remind herself to breathe through it. Nadia let Luce help her out of her shirt, feeling self-conscious for no fucking reason. “Thanks,” she said. It was nice to be able to say that, at least, to thank someone without it being a cataclysmicly big deal. She hated thinking that, but it was true. “She wasn’t kind, my-- the ghost, Cordelia.” She had to say her name, make her real, make her someone separate from Nadia. “She did not go gently into that good night. It was really, uh, really melodramatic. Like, a whole, ‘if I can’t have this body, no one can’ kind of thing.” She was trying to joke, but she couldn’t help the way her eyes slid closed. “She stabbed me. During the exorcism. Yanked it out, too. Lost a lot of blood, I guess.” Nadia didn’t mention that she’d gotten really fucking close to having to visit Luce in that mirror again. Somehow, she didn’t think that would have gone over well.

Hearing how Nadia stumbled over her words, Luce spoke up, “It’s all good, really. I found out… when you were gone.” Her voice was quiet and calm as she took the scissors from the kit and began to cut away the bandages that covered the woman’s side. When Nadia said that it looked worse than it was, Luce had hoped that she was lying. But, the mass of stitches were proof enough that yeah, it was just as bad as it fucking looked. Jesus fucking christ. She really had been stabbed. By that bitch, Cordelia. She’d done this to Nadia, had put her through so much pain. “Jesus.” She swore under her breath before steadying herself with a nod. “You don’t need to keep joking about this, you know. If it helps you can, but you don’t need to. You went through something really fucked up. It’s okay to not be… okay with it.” She said as she began to rinse the wound with saline. “Let me know if this hurts too much and we can take a break or something.” Luce said as she set about patting the stitches with a piece of sterile gauze.

“You-- Right, right.” Nadia couldn’t help but feel just a little bitter. Of course Cordelia had spilled her secrets. Hell, Cordelia had probably been a better empath than her. At least she’d fucking known what she was doing. “If it makes you feel any better, I-- I don’t, like, try to pry into anyone’s feelings or shit. I try really hard not to, actually.” But sometimes people projected so loudly, and Luce didn’t need to swear for Nadia to know what she was feeling. She clenched her jaw a bit. “I mean, if I don’t joke about it, I start feeling really fucking sad, and, seriously, that’s kind of terrible. It could be worse. It could be so much worse.” She paused. “She could have stabbed me in my other side, and, really, it’s better this way. All my injuries are on one side, now.” She gave Luce a weak smile, barely twitching as Luce started to work. It hurt, sure, but it wasn’t bad. It could be worse. She relaxed a bit, though, even if it stung a bit. “This? This is nothing, you know?” She kept her tone light. “You’re hands are warm.” She had kind of forgotten what warm hands felt like.

“You don’t?” Luce asked. She couldn’t help the slight curiosity in her tone, it was just something she’d never heard of before. Magic and creatures and Hunters and covens, those were all things she’d grown up knowing. But, she’d never even thought that someone might exist who could sense another person’s emotions just by hanging around them. Dabbing gently at Nadia’s wound, Luce continued to speak. “That makes sense. Hell, I can barely handle my own emotions, I can’t imagine how it must be to feel other peoples.” Luce grimaced, the reality of it all sinking in. Every time Luce had come to Nadia, the other woman had felt her every emotion, her intent… Christ. No wonder she was coping with some attempt at humor. Luce shifted uncomfortably as she unscrewed the cap of the antiseptic. Clearing her throat, she offered a grin, “Well. Hey. I’ve done plenty of scar cover ups for people. Or, if you want something to fix the balance, I’m pretty sure I could come up with a piece for the other side.” She said, falling back onto one of the things she knew best, tattoos. Art. It couldn’t fix anything, but it was all she could offer. At the woman’s mention of her hands, Luce swallowed. “Mhm, yeah. I still run hot.” Even if her magic wasn’t.

“I try really hard not to,” Nadia said. She bit the inside of her cheek. “For the first, like, most of my life up until less than a year ago, I didn’t even know that it was a thing. I just kind of tried to ignore it.” Or she ended up being unable to tell the difference, the lines constantly blurring to figure out where her emotions ended and someone else’s began. She still had problems with that. She wondered if there would ever be a day that she wouldn’t have problems with that in the presence of another person. “It’s better now that I know what it is. Nothing is more confusing than watching just going out for drinks and being in the middle of a bar fight because you felt someone else want to start a bar fight.” Luce’s discomfort bled into Nadia’s own, but she did her best to stay still. She had a feeling they were discomforted by very different things. “Eh, there’s a scar that’s probably from a bullet wound on the other side. It probably balances out,” she said. “I might take you up on the cover up, though. Something that’s not like the piece on my shoulder. Maybe flowers? I like flowers. For the back, at least, just because I don’t need people to know I was almost a human kabob.” Luce had always radiated warmth in a way that Nadia found comforting, even when she probably shouldn’t have. This was no different, even if there was nothing more to this than Luce just being kind, offering to help her out. Nadia let her eyes shut. “It’s nice.”

As someone who’d lived her entire life knowing about the reality of this world, Luce couldn’t imagine what that must have been like. Her parents had always been so insistent on her learning how to control her magic, to practice with the innate power that lived within her. Nadia’s experience was so opposite of that. “That’s wild. But it makes sense that being aware of it has helped. It’s just… really different from anything I’ve heard of before.” Not that Luce was an expert. She’d only ever paid attention to her own magic, studying the flame and how to coax it into something. But, that hadn’t gotten her very far, now had it? Gently applying antiseptic cream to the stitches, Luce began to apply a layer of fresh gauze before winding bandages to hold it in place. A bullet scar? She’d wondered what it was, but fuck. Jesus. “Flowers, huh? Well, shit, you’re in luck.” Luce joked, tilting her head to sleeve and the peonies that wrapped around her arm. “But yeah, I’d be happy to help you with a cover up.” Glancing up at Nadia, Luce’s fingers paused as she wrapped the wound. Nadia’s skin had always been cooler than most, and now she couldn’t help but wonder why if it was because of the possession, if it was because of Nadia’s brushes with death. “I’m glad you think so.” Luce said quietly.

“It’s the lamest fucking superpower ever.” Nadia rolled her eyes just thinking about it. She could sense other people’s feelings but often got them confused with her own, to the point where she let them affect her own actions. “When I was in college, someone,” her therapist, but she didn’t want to get into that, “told me that I was really empathetic. Which is a thing, right? It’s totally a thing. I didn’t think I could actually feel other people’s emotions because that was too fucking metaphysical, even for me. But, hey, if magic is real, then, sure, why not weird feeling powers?” And, now, it was almost a comfort, like the pain in her side or the feeling of warm hands on her skin. It was a reminder that she wasn’t alone, wasn’t dead, wasn’t just lost in that forgotten place, waiting for the moment that someone saw her so she felt real again. She ghosted (ha) her fingers over Luce’s arm without even meaning to, barely touching the flowers. She’d always thought they were pretty. All of Luce’s tattoos were pretty. Luce was pretty. Which, all of that was stupid to think about, stupid to stop and consider for longer than a moment, and she tried not to. She really did. “Those are pretty.” She glanced at Luce, their eyes meeting briefly before she looked away. Despite the sting of the antiseptic, the discomfort of the bandages, the warmth still felt stupidly nice. “I-- Yeah, of course. Of course.” God, what was she supposed to say that wouldn’t be stepping over some boundary that she couldn’t even see? Sometimes, she never knew if she was saying too much or too little.

“Hey, at least it’s something,” Good, “that’s… I dunno, productive?” Luce said with a shrug as she began to cut through the gauze with the pair of scissors in the first aid kit. “At least you know where you stand with people when you can sense their emotions, right?” She asked, not at all sure how it worked. Then again, she didn’t really expect Nadia to have an answer for her either-- if someone asked her how her magic work, Luce would be hard pressed to explain it to them. As Luce finished securing the bandages, Nadia’s fingers skimmed over the skin of her arm, barely touching the snakes and flowers that covered her arm. “Thanks.” She said with a slight hint of a smile. Tossing the used gauze into the trash, Luce paused for a moment. A part of her wanted to ask Nadia what... they were doing. But, Nadia had enough going on. She didn’t need to deal with more bullshit on top of what she’d already been going through. And, there was an even larger part of her that didn’t want to question it, didn’t want to ask about what this situation was. So instead, Luce asked, “How’s it feel now?”

“Sometimes,” Nadia muttered. “I’d probably be a bit better if I hadn’t, like, denied that it was a thing for the first twenty-one… twenty-seven years of my life.” Though, she’d always known how to get herself out of confrontations, when she’d applied herself. She’d also known how to get herself into confrontations, always knowing what to do to rile up her parents. She shouldn’t have done that. “Knowing how a person’s feeling changes from moment to moment, you know? And sometimes I can’t separate myself from everyone else.” As Luce finished, Nadia allowed herself to give the woman’s arm a slight squeeze before she dropped her hand. Luce felt like hesitation and hesitation and hesitation. Hesitation about what? Nadia ran her good hand through her hair and waited for Luce to come back. She gave the other woman a smile. “Feels brand new. I could, like, run a marathon or some shit, I feel so good.” Of course, she shifted a bit and ended up wincing as she moved too much and ended up pulling something. “Maybe not run. Maybe just walk a marathon.”

“Fair enough. But, you’re still here, right? That means you’ve still got time to figure out how to use your… touchy feely empathy powers.” Luce said with a grin that didn’t come quite as easily as she wanted it to. “Hm, I guess that makes sense. I don’t know anything about this sort of thing, so I’m… pretty useless as far as help goes. But, thanks. For explaining about it. I figured that it was something you didn’t go around telling people about in general so… yeah, just thanks.” She said, feeling unbelievably lame for how she sounded. She wanted to tell Nadia about how fucking scared she’d been when the other woman was gone. She wanted to tell her how hard she’d tried to figure out what was going on. But that would also mean explaining why she hadn’t done more. Why she’d fucked off to Boston. Why she’d backed off when Cordelia had threatened her. And it would mean questioning why she’d felt all of those things. And Nadia didn’t need to deal with that shit right now.

But hadn’t that been her exact thought with Remmy, when they were going through things? Luce had given too little too late, had opened up when there was already a huge divide between them. And maybe if she’d stopped hesitating, if she’d just said something… things would have been different. Packing up the first aid kit, Luce returned to Nadia and offered a nod. “Yeah, don’t go walking any marathons either. But, uh... “ She kicked herself mentally again before sighing, “I know you’re going through a lot right now. So if there’s anything else I can do to help while you’re healing up, let me know.” She said. It was the best she could do right now. She was still a coward, through and through. But she didn’t want to lose Nadia too, not when she’d just gotten her back.

“Yep, still kicking, despite the numerous attempts to the contrary, lately,” Nadia said. She shrugged, slightly. “You’re, you know, entitled to an explanation. I mean, since she’d already told you. I didn’t want-- I didn’t want you to think that I just pried into your emotions all the time.” And she didn’t. She didn’t, she tried really hard not to. She just really, really didn’t want to do that. It was easier to deal with other people’s emotions, sure, but it wasn’t right. If she could figure out how to turn it off and still not deal with her own shit, she fucking would. While Luce was busy with the first aid kit, Nadia shrugged on her cardigan, not feeling like bothering with the shirt again. She didn’t try to untangle her own and Luce’s mess of feelings; there just wasn’t a fucking point, she believed. Nadia shoved her good hand a pocket and looked down. “Right, yeah, no marathons. I can probably manage that.” She looked up, biting the inside of her cheek. “I’m fine, though, seriously. Totally healing fine.” Rhiannon knocked something off the counter, and Nadia flinched. “I-- Yeah. I mean, like, the cat’s gotten used to you,” and I kind of like you, “and I’m sure she’d miss having you around, so you can, you know, stop by. Whenever. Maybe give me a heads up so I don’t look like shit.”

“It’s cool, really.” Luce said, shrugging as she leaned awkwardly against the wall of Nadia’s apartment. “The way I see it, if you’ve dealt with everything I’ve felt and you still wanted to see me at all… I don’t know, I feel like that’s a good enough explanation for me.” Nadia had seen her when she was still reeling from grief over Bea’s death, she’d been there when Luce was still confused over her situation with Remmy, she’d felt so much. Guiltily, Luce shook her head. “Honesty, I feel like I owe you more of an explanation for some of the shit you’ve had to feel.” She said, thinking back to the scars on her neck and chest. Nadia had never even seen them, had she? If that bitch Cordelia had been in her body since before the tears, she wouldn't have known about everything Luce had been through. The sound of something clattering to the floor made Luce jump, just as startled as Nadia. At the other woman’s words, Luce nodded as she walked to the door. “Yeah. I can do that.” She said, a ghost of her typical easy grin returning as she leaned against the doorframe. “It’s… good to have you back.” I missed you. Luce managed before jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I should head out. And you should get some rest.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Nadia said as quickly as she could. “You don’t, not for anything. No one should have to explain their emotions to another person. I know that better than anyone.” It didn’t matter, not really, all the things that Luce had felt, all the questions they had left Nadia with. That wasn’t her business. Luce didn’t owe her anything at all. That didn’t stop Nadia from wanting to know. God, she wanted to know. She wanted to be told things, but not because Luce felt like she owed her. She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s good to be back,” she said, quietly, and it was. It was good to be back. It was strange to be back, but so, so good. Please stay, she wanted to say. Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone. Instead, she said, “Yeah, no, totally. I’ll see you around?” She gave Luce a smile. It was good, really, that she felt other people’s emotions and not the other way around. Luce didn’t need to feel this, this stupid desire to be around her that Nadia didn’t even properly understand. It was better when she just kept her feelings to herself.

[inspirationdivine]

Curtain Call || Lydia, Orion, Winston, Luce, Athena

Timing: Current Parties: @inspirationdivine @3starsquinn @danetobelieve @divineluce @athenaquinn Summary: After being forced to leave town by Kaden, Lydia prepares for her next steps. Others have different ideas.  Warnings: Drug manipulation (leanan sidhe kiss), references to abuse, gore tw, minor vomit tw (mentions)

Now that her arm was healing and her wing was taped together, walking was almost bearable. Lydia was also running high on painkillers, so her entire body felt like it was wrapped in cotton gauze, numb to both the outside world and the inside one. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and with a wince, she pulled it out. It was Deirdre, calling again. It was practically muscle memory at this point to tap decline and put it away again, as it had been for the dozens of calls she’d gotten from the Banshee. It must have been the mushrooms or something. Deirdre was ever so susceptible to them. Lydia pursed her lips, before looking at Rio. “I can’t stress enough how grateful I am for all of your help. My, uh, my friend will be here in an hour. You don’t mind waiting that little bit longer, do you?” She looked around at the crowded evening streets from the passenger side of her car. “You probably need to eat, right?” She asked him. 

 Orion knew nothing about this friend of Lydia’s, but figured that waiting around until they got here wouldn’t kill him. For now, Rio was pretty sure that Lydia was safe from the hunter at least. That wouldn’t stop them from coming after her again, but Lydia must have felt safe with the friend who should be coming to get her or she wouldn’t have reached out to them in the first place. Rio wasn’t sure how long it had been since Lydia had first contacted him but he knew that he hadn’t gotten any sleep. He had pulled enough all nighters in the Scribrary to know how to function with little to no sleep, but that didn’t stop his stomach from growling. “It’s fine. I’m happy to stick around.” Rio smiled at the woman and leaned his head against the car window. “It’s not a big deal, I’m not that hungry. I can wait.” He was lying obviously, his stomach growling enough proof of that. But right now his only concern was making sure that she got away from here safely. He could worry about eating later.

 Winston had not been having a good time since dealing with Bloody Mary and the Sandman; Orion had gone missing and it had been a rough ride to track him down (which Winston wouldn’t normally do with their boyfriend because CREEPY but these were unprecedented times). To make matters worse Todd had fallen off the surface of the Earth. He’d cut Winston off. Winston wasn’t sure what they had done to receive this sort of treatment, but there it was. It had been hard. Picking between going after Todd and going after Rio, but Winston hadn’t really had to think that much about the choice, it had sort of come naturally and Winston was sure that they had made the right call. They were weighed down with all manner of magical gadgetry as they followed the blinking light on their screen. “I don’t think they’re too far from here,” they whispered as they crept forward, knowing that Rio couldn’t be that much further away. Thank God for technomancy. 

 Of all the people Luce had expected to go up against Lydia with, Athena and Winston were pretty far at the bottom of her list. In fact, they were probably at the bottom. But, when she’d gotten the message from Athena, telling her about the situation, Luce had been only too willing to help. Help. That was… one way of describing what she was hoping to do. Murder, that was another word for it. A more accurate one. Fingers curling around the iron spear that she’d brought with her, Luce followed closely behind Winston. Who would have thought the neighbor kid would be leading the charge to fuck up a lady. “Mhm.” Luce nodded, the familiar grip of Lydia’s magic creeping up on her as she tried to figure out how to word things. She knew about Lydia, knew about her home and what she could do to people. But when Athena had told her about the situation, it had circumvented the fae magic that bound her to her promise. If the others already knew about Lydia , then it didn’t matter. “What’s our game plan, once we get there? I’ve got this,” She held the spear up, “But I can’t exactly just light up a bitch without there being some fall out.”

 She knew this had to be done. Whatever came of all of it, Lydia couldn’t go on living. Not because of who she was, not because of what she’d done to Ariana and now, according to Winston, possibly to her brother. Athena couldn’t help but let the iron in her blood concentrate periodically to her fingertips, her lips in a firm line. She had a couple more knives on her body than usual, because whatever was going to happen, she couldn’t leave room for anything to go wrong. She was glad that she’d asked Luce to come along - working to take down that Cù-sìth those months ago had solidified Athena’s already present respect for the woman. “I think we should avoid the fire for now - we don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. She’s lived a super-duper fucking long time,” she knew her words were biting and she didn’t care, “and that means she’s got to have ways of getting out of tricky situations. So I say we go in there, make sure my brother - make sure Ri’s all safe, and kill her. Plain and simple.” Even though she had to admit to herself that it was anything but.

 “If you’re sure,” Lydia said softly. He was perfectly tolerable as far as humans went, and she’d rather keep the promises in her back pocket and keep her slate as clean as she could, at least in the eyes of those she still loved back in White Crest. She shifted, looking over the bandage on her arm to see if it needed changing. Nothing. When Lydia looked out the window, surveying the people on the road, she spotted someone she couldn’t believe was here. Lucinda Vural. Lydia looked out the right side of her window, clucking her tongue in frustration at the sight of traffic all around them. There was no easy way to drive out of here. The last thing she wanted was for Luce to find her smeared in her own blood and weak, for another way to be hurt by the Vurals. Being in a car in the vicinity of a fire spellcaster also frightened her. “We should go for a walk. Quickly, Rio. I’m so sorry.”

 “A walk? What about your friend?” Orion found himself asking, but that didn’t seem to bother Lydia much. She was already climbing out of the car in a hurry. Rio only let himself rest for another second, letting out a held breath and staring up at the roof of the car before following her out of the car. She seemed shaken. Was the hunter back around? Was that what she had been freaking out about? Immediately, Rio began looking around the place, spotting a familiar face from a block or two over. “Luce?” Rio asked aloud, glancing over at Lydia. Could that be who she had spotted? Luce was scary but she wasn’t exactly a hunter. “Last time I saw her she punched me in the face.” Rio touched at the spot on his face on reflex, a ghost pain reminding him of how strong one of her punches could be when she was mad. But the memories dissipated quickly when the traffic broke, revealing two more faces with Luce that had previously been blocked by a car. “What the-” Rio froze in place, no longer walking alongside Lydia but instead trying to figure out why Winston and Athena were together. And here of all places. “I know them.” Rio was ready to wave before he hesitated. Lydia was a fae, and whatever trauma Athena was going through at the moment, she was a warden. She hadn’t been the hunter that had attacked Lydia, but she might be just as dangerous. “What is going on?” He turned on Lydia.

 Luce wasn’t alone. That was worse, somehow. Perhaps her and Winston were on an out of town shopping trip for some reason, with the blonde girl Lydia didn’t recognise, but this was the wrong area to go for extended shop options. “I don’t know. Really, Rio, I have no idea why they’re here, but I don’t want to wait to find out if it’s a coincidence.” Lydia replied in hushed tones, already anxiously moving. “Let’s go.” She had no idea why any of them were here, but Lydia had seen at least a few times the kind of power Winston held. She also knew she had talked Todd through leaving Winston, although nothing should have connected her to that from their perspective. 

 She was seething. She could see her brother and she saw him look over. Athena had half a mind to run over right then, but she knew that she had to be careful. If not for her own life, for the lives of Luce, Winston, and her brother. She couldn’t let them die. Her skin was crawling and she wanted nothing more than to be away from Lydia, but she had to remind herself that she would be soon. “I - I don’t know why my brother - why he’s not…” Why he’s not coming over here. Though he sometimes had things planned far in advance but there was something about the whole situation that didn’t sit quite right with her, though the idea of her brother being around a murderous fae in the first place was more than enough to set her off. “We’ve got to act soon, but we also have to make sure she doesn’t hurt my brother - hurt Ri - in retaliation.” Her fingers found one of the knives pressed flush against her hip, letting the cool iron of it match the concentrated iron under her skin. “I think your spear will come in handy,” she whispered to Luce. “I don’t really care, as long as she suffers.”

 Swallowing, Winston did their best to take in the entire situation. They knew that this was complex but right now the only priority that there was was to get Orion out of here without getting him hurt. Something that was easier said than done. “I’m sorry but I don’t really care about hurting Lydia, all I care is about getting Rio out of this. I don’t know why he’s playing along but…” Winston wasn’t sure that they really cared enough to explain their thought process. Tracking Rio had not been so difficult but the question of why he was willingly assisting Lydia remained. It was a promise bind situation was all that Winston could think. “I will concentrate on making sure Rio doesn’t get hurt,” Winston had designed tech specifically for a situation like this but like most of the tech that they came up with it hadn’t exactly been field tested until now, “but the faster we can do this… well the better.”

 Wait, Rio was Athena’s brother? What fucking apples and what fucking trees... Luce shook her head-- now wasn’t the time to think about that. The two of them clearly had higher stakes in this than her. Athena and Winston wanted to make sure Rio was safe. Which was fair. But, that didn’t help the fact that he was definitely with Lydia. Letting out a sigh, Luce glanced around the busy roads. There was a lot of fucking traffic, a lot more innocent people than she could reasonably risk with her flames. Fire had a way of getting out of hand and this wasn’t the place for it right now. “Listen, the longer we stand here, the worse this is going to go. That bitch,” Luce growled, “Will do whatever it takes to get away. You two, find a way to cut her off, stop her from getting away. Try to get Rio away from her.” She said and shook her head, thinking of the way August had bent to her will. If he’d been kissed by her, Luce had no idea if it’d even be possible to get Rio back. “In the meantime,” Gripping the spear tightly in her hand, Luce watched for traffic and began to cross the road. The iron in her hands heated under her skin, her blood boiling. “Hey, Lydia. Long time no see.”

 “Does Luce have a spear?” Orion asked incredulously, eyes growing wide as he remembered the damage she had done without any weapon at all the last time the two had run into each other. They did need to go, but Rio didn’t exactly want to. Something was happening. Rio found himself glancing back and forth between the three and Lydia. Something wasn’t adding up, but Rio knew enough about Athena and Luce to know that violence was definitely on their minds. Lydia was too injured to get away from any of them right now, especially a hunter. Counting on that, Rio slid in front of Lydia, blocking Luce’s path to her as she crossed the street. “Oh uh. Hey guys. What’s up?” He tried smiling, giving a small wave before tucking his hand behind his head and scratching at his neck nervously. He was so confused. He glanced at the three, eyes finally landing on Winston and staying there, the smile disappearing from his face as their eyes locked and Rio tried to figure out why they were here with the other two. “Funny running into you here, yeah?”

 Lydia’s gaze flicked around, eyes narrowing. There was a tall department store not thirty feet away, with a flat roof, which meant there was likely rooftop access. Three blocks away, there was a safe loft where she could wait out her connection. Just fifty more minutes. Lucinda walked up close as Lydia took a nervous step back. Fucking Vurals. “That’s an iron spear,” she pointed out, her hand trembling. Rio knew these people. Shit. Maybe they really were here for Rio. But the steely stare of Lucinda told her that Rio was not the main concern. Lydia stood a little taller, her whole body aching. Her thigh buzzed again. “Did I not pay you enough for your magic, Winston? Did I not look after your human sacrifice well enough, Lucinda? I don’t even know who you are, another spellcaster, no doubt. If this is what Kaden Langley’s grace looks like, it’s not very impressive.” Lydia’s voice wobbled with nerves, even as her tone chilled like ice. “You would protect me, no matter what, wouldn’t you, Rio? You promised. I wish I didn’t have to do this, but they’re here to hurt me.” 

 “She’s hurt him and my-” Ariana. “Another good friend. She needs to suffer.” Athena nodded. “You can concentrate to make sure he doesn’t get hurt. He can’t.” I can’t live with myself if he did. I knew he was going to get in trouble with a fae one day. She couldn’t blame him though, not when there was a potential that he might not make it out of this alive. “We’ll make this efficient. That, among many other things, is something I can excel at.” She nodded at Luce and followed her across the road, hoping that the traffic would dissipate soon enough. She didn’t need innocent lives being lost, at least not as much as she could avoid. “Not so funny.” Athena’s eyes narrowed in response to her brother. “You -” her eyes widened, praying for him to somehow hear her thoughts. Not that such a thing was possible, but when they’d been children it had almost felt like it was. She hardened her gaze as it shifted over to where Lydia sat, her skin crawling. Not a spellcaster, she wanted to say. Wanted to hiss, even. She had no issues with spellcasters, but she was not one. Not at all. “Doesn’t matter who I am. I know enough about who you are.” Kaden has nothing to do with this. At least not the most significant part. As she turned to watch the exchange between her brother and Lydia, she couldn’t help but reach for her dagger again, though she didn’t remove it. You promised. “You didn’t.” Turning to look directly at her brother, Athena shook her head, doing her best to keep her breathing even. No. 

 That confirmed it. Promise bound. Great. Rio was too good for this world truly. Of course he was going to make a promise that he would be forced to keep. “Lydia, you definitely pay very well, I would’ve loved to have just worked for you, but you took Todd and now you’ve taken someone even more important and wrapped him up in a promise that he shouldn’t have to keep. I’m not going to make him break it, because that will hurt him more than I can allow, but I won’t let you keep doing this.” Winston fished into their pocket, pulling a number of tiny metal balls of twine from their pocket before tossing them through the air. The balls of twine sprouted tiny wire legs and began to scuttle towards Rio. They were made from iron. Everything had a hint of iron nowadays. Better for dealing with fae. “I’m really sorry Rio,” Winston watched as the wires of the twine reached out and began to wrap themselves around Rio’s feet. Hopefully this didn’t hurt them too much. Winston wasn’t sure if them preventing Rio from completing the promise would hurt Rio as well, they hoped not. But right now they had to deal with Lydia. She couldn’t go on. 

 When Rio stepped into her path, Luce had the uncomfortable flashback to the last time they’d run into each other. She’d been wrong then, yeah. And, as she heard Athena and Winston talk, as they pieced together the puzzle that she really didn’t care about, she had a feeling that she was going to be in the wrong again. But, it didn’t matter. Rio wouldn’t be hurt. Not in any real way compared to what she was going to do to Lydia. As Winston apologized, as they let loose their latest techno-magical marvel, she watched the way it curled around his legs. Probably not enough to stop him, but if she gave him a little help...  Luce curled her free hand into a fist. “Sorry, Rio.” She said apologetically and punched the kid square in the face once more before quickly sidestepping him to face Lydia. Holding the short spear out to block the woman’s path, she offered a tight lipped smile. “I’d say you did your job too well, Lydia.” She said as she pressed forward. It was too open here, too many eyes. If they could just get away from the street. “Why don’t we have a nice little chat about just how good you are at what you do, huh?” Luce said, the threat of violence mounting with every step she took towards the Fae woman.

 Everything happened quickly. Orion’s first instinct was to deny Lydia’s claims. He wouldn’t have promised her anything. “No- That can’t be… I didn’t-” But he kept trailing off. Back then, he hadn’t known she was a fae. She was a woman attacked by a monster in town and Rio was a hunter that had helped her. He had promised not to harm her. To protect her even. “Oh my god.” He had been so stupid. And now, everything made sense. Athena was helping Ariana look for the Fae that had killed her friend. Turned out, Rio had known her all along. His voice caught in his throat. He wanted to yell at Lydia, or to yell at the group but what was the point? This was all his fault. He had saved a monster, and now he had been trapped in her net. “Please don’t make me do that.” Rio finally spoke, begging Lydia to let him free. To stop him. The group caught on quickly, wires wrapping around Rio’s leg in an attempt by Winston to lock him into place, and seconds later another punch to the face by Luce threw him off balance. At least she apologized this time around. But as much as Rio wanted to fight against it and stay rooted in place, he felt his body moving on it’s own. “Crap. No, no, no.” He said to himself as he grabbed at the wires and began ripping them away from his legs. Don’t do this. He kept telling himself, forcing himself to stop. But he had promise bound himself to a freaking fae. “Stop me!” He yelled at the group. But he had already ripped most of the wires free and was reaching towards Luce to stop her from hurting Lydia. 

 If the blonde girl was going to act vague and detached, Lydia was going to dismiss her as entirely uninteresting. Luce and Winston were the clear threats here. “T-” Lydia frowned. They oughtn’t have been able to know about that. The detachment had been seamless, Todd’s last close connections hurt but not suspicious. In a year, no one would be able to find a single reference to DJ Dayze, but the transition had only barely started. No matter now, Todd would rot in that home of hers until she sent someone to pull him out, but she tucked that thought away. Apparently this human hunter was even more valuable than Todd. A bargaining chip. Lydia jumped back as Winston threw their gizmos on the floor, but the twine only went for Rio, not for her. Lydia’s mouth filled with saliva as her heart began to race, adrenaline numbing the searing pain in her back and arms. Luce aimed the spear she had once stolen from a red cap at Lydia, and Lydia swallowed. “I don’t want to make him fight you. If you all backed off, he would be home in a couple hours and no one would have any more issues. But that isn’t going to happen, is it?” The blonde girl’s hand twitched to something at her side, so Lydia’s did the same, slowly backing away from Lucinda’s spear. At the same moment that Rio stopped to reach for it, Lydia grabbed her own dagger and pushed it into his hand. “Your choice. Have fun.” Lydia spun and spat on a passer by, yelling for him to protect her too. She bolted down the street, licking her hand and spreading her toxin onto every human she could touch, leaving a wall of human shields in her wake. The department store would let her disappear, if she could reach it. Lydia’s phone buzzed again, as Lydia screeched in frustration. Surely Deirdre knew she would be busy?

 The fae was hardly paying attention to her, but that suited Athena just fine. She relished when those who she hunted underestimated her. It just made their deaths all the more pleasurable in the end. She knew that she couldn’t let her guard down, not even for a moment. She winced briefly at Winston and Luce’s actions, but she felt her whole body tense up at her brother’s pleading. There was no work-around right now - who knew what sort of promises he’d been exactly manipulated into, and she couldn’t risk any further harm coming to him. She couldn’t lose him. Wouldn’t lose him. Except Lydia wasn’t going to go down easy. “I do not believe you.” She replied, simply, gaze focused. Focused on Lydia before it moved to her brother, and the dagger than Lydia had placed in his hand. “Ri, no.” She hissed, as Lydia spat on someone else and began to run away. “I - we can’t let her get away.” Athena began to move in the direction where Lydia had gone - dagger now removed and clearly visible. “We also can’t - the humans need to get out of this as unharmed as possible.” She moved toward her brother for just a moment, wondering if there was a way to get the dagger out of his hands. If she could be quick and swift enough to do so. She knew how he moved, usually.  

 Winston had seen this fae affect so many people. She had killed Ariana’s friend. She had taken Todd. She was doing all of this to Rio and now she was bringing in people who had absolutely nothing to do with it and bringing them into it all. Winston swallowed before watching Rio tear through the wire that was wrapping up his body. They really hadn’t wanted to hurt their but there wasn’t really much choice here. Willing the wires to unravel and then tighten around him, Winston fought back against Rio’s frankly incredible strength. Something that Winston would’ve normally marvelled at. Hurling more balls of twine his way, they watched as Lydia tried to make her exit. Reaching out with their mind Winston tried to sense the wires that would inevitably run through all of the streets and lanes. Unfortunately this wasn’t as densely populated an area as they would’ve normally liked and therefore there was not as much around them that they would be able to use. But they would make do. “I can only do so much with these balls of twine but I’ll try and stop Lydia from getting too far.” Winston watched as she darted through the crowd, there was a telephone line hanging overhead and Winston snapped the wire with their mind, causing the copper wire to lash downwards and wrap around Lydia’s leg. “Get the dagger off of Rio and we can deal with him once Lydia’s dealt with…” Winston was concerned however, they didn’t really want to substantially hurt their boyfriend but they were beginning to wonder if they didn’t have much other choice.

 In an instant, the tension that had existed between them had exploded into motion, with action and reaction. Rio was tearing at the wires, now armed, Athena grasping the dagger, Lydia taking off through the crowd, setting up a wall of human shields between her and them. Luce gritted her teeth as one of the entranced bystanders positioned himself firmly between her and Lydia, his hands raising to block her. Hand to hand wasn’t her best skill, and neither was taking down people in a way that wouldn’t hurt them badly. Anger burning under her skin, Luce tried to focus on the sensation she’d had that night, when she’d willed the magic to crackle and explode into something more than just flame. Lightning, electricity, sharp and precise and deadly. She wanted it, needed it now more than ever.  But, when she brought her hands up, outstretched and reaching for Lydia, a burst of blue flames were conjured instead. The flames caught on the clothes of the people around her, not caring who or what they consumed. And neither did the bystanders between them. They continued to block her path, even as the fire crawled along their bodies. “Fuck.” She swore before focusing her magic, pouring energy into killing the flames, smothering them. “Shit, shit, shit!” She swore. 

 Through her perforated ear, Lydia did not hear the overhead cable snap until it cracked around her ankle. Lydia toppled, screaming like she was being burned again as she caught her weight with just one arm. Unsuspecting humans moved close to help her out of misguided kindness, but the cable had split her skin where it had lashed her first and they were hesitant to reach out. Frightened of an electric shock. Lydia grabbed one passerby, smearing her spit on him until it numbed his fear. “Get it off me!” She shrieked. His hands frantically scrabbled at the cable, as she grabbed three others, including a teenager, to pry the cable off her leg. Winston wanted her dead, but they wouldn’t electrocute her with humans at stake, right? Lydia looked up as a couple humans screamed, staring in wide eyed horror at the fire melting clothes in the crowd. They didn’t falter as their skin burned, even if they yelled in pain. That was the point of the kiss, after all, that they would set themselves on fire to keep Lydia safe. The entrancing sight was extinguished just as quickly, and the copper wire was pried from her legs. “Help me up,” she snarled, and two arms picked her up from the waist. Dizzy with the ache of a dozen injuries, Lydia forced herself to turn on her heel and run again, pushing people out of the way as she went. 

 Orion didn’t want the knife that Lydia passed off to him, but he couldn’t seem to let it go. He had to protect Lydia. Even if his brain was telling him to stop, he had to protect her. His family had been warning him their entire lives not to fall into the trap, but here he was. As his grip tightened on the knife, Rio found himself gritting his teeth. It seemed like the only physical thing he could do to restrain himself. His muscles ached as he was forced to move forward despite trying so desperately to hold himself back. He could see the three around them, Luce moving towards Lydia, Winston trying to work their magic and Athena ready to pounce at Rio at any moment. All his mind could think about was how to stop all three of them from getting to Lydia. Luce and Winston both had dangerous magic and Athena had always been stronger than Rio had. It seemed like more of a losing battle, and while that’s exactly in actuality, the reality was that he had no choice but to try. He needed to stop Luce, she was closest. But before he could move, Athena leapt at him. He had grown up fighting her his entire life, but had never once won a battle. He had never wanted to fight her, but they had known all the same moves. They had grown up memorizing each other’s moves. But Rio was different than he had been before. He had been learning moves from someone else now. He slid past her arm, grabbing onto her wrist and twisting it behind her, finally pulling her entire arm behind her back in order to pin her. With his free hand he held the knife up, begging himself internally not to use it. He was forced to protect Lydia, but that didn’t mean he’d have to kill anyone. He just needed to fulfill his promise. If he slowed them down, that was protecting her. “I’m sorry.” Rio muttered, voice shaking in anticipation, “Oh god, I’m so sorry.” He tried to drive the point home before he braced his free hand on the other side of her arm and snapped them against each other, stomach flipping at the sound of bones cracking. “Please stop me.” Rio reminded her before discarding her and taking off for the other two.

 There was almost too much happening at once - though Athena knew that she ought to have expected such. Given everything she knew about Lydia, she’d never expected this to be easy, but the very fact that this fae was so willing to take down innocent civilians just made her all the more reprehensible. She watched Winston and Luce work their magicks, though she couldn’t help but wince as Luce’s aim missed - though it was through no fault of her own - and hit a person rather than Lydia. She didn’t have too much time to focus, though - because she could see her brother move, the knife still far too shiny in his hands, looking incredibly out of place. It didn’t suit him, and not for the first time, she just wanted to make things better. Wanted to take on whatever he was feeling, even if she was furious that he’d managed to get himself into this, that he’d managed to get promise-bound to one of the most vile fae she had ever encountered. She leapt at him for a moment, but before she knew what was happening she could feel his hand grab her wrist and twist it behind her back and she didn’t change her expression, ignoring the slight pain that shot through her body. He was stronger, now, somehow, and she found herself admiring this fact for a split second before she heard his voice shaking - and she didn’t cry - their parents had taught them to avoid that, because in the end it could be used as a distraction - but she wanted to, wanted to take away all the terror that was in his voice. She watched him raise the knife up for a moment and her eyes widened. She’d seen him in their kitchen. She knew what he could do, but she hoped that something, somehow would allow him not to use that. He lowered his other arm until both were on the side of her arm - her non-dominant one, she noted, before she heard the snap and bit down on her lip hard -- too hard -- so that she wouldn’t scream. “It’s fine. You’re safe. It’s -” she felt herself sinking down onto the ground, looking over towards where Winston and Luce were. Ignoring whatever her brother was doing. “Corner Lydia. I can - I can do this, we just need to get her somewhere and…” she scrunched up her face. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 Winston heard the dull crunch of bones and swallowed feeling slightly queasy. But they had to overcome this. They had to stop Lydia. People were going to help Todd, they were going to help everyone that was under her control and now it was Winston’s responsibility to help deal with this. She had been abusing her abilities for too long and people were getting hurt. Concern flashed across Winston’s face and they dashed onwards. Their lungs burning in protest at this much exercise and sweat speckling their brow. They’d never gotten the hang of running. They honestly weren’t entirely sure how people did it to keep fit and despite every occasion in which they had been forced to sprint away from something trying to kill them they were never going to get used to this. But they didn’t have time to reach for their inhaler right now. They knew that Athena was right, they couldn’t wait for her on this though the injury that she had just sustained looked painful. Swallowing nervously, Winston pushed through the people around them.  They were slowing them down and Winston couldn’t afford the delay. Reaching out with their magic once more, Winston grasped the wires everywhere and quickly began to force them to snap taught. The metal rose from walls, concrete and even street lights like thin snakes, wrapping around the civilians and pulling them out of the way. “We need to corner her!” It was an unfamiliar town for all of them, but Winston had technology on their side -- as always--  and was quickly able to pull up a street layout. “Luce, force her to go left.” The amount of will that they were exerting on keeping everything in place was … significant and they weren’t sure how long they could keep this up. They needed to end this and fast.

 Luce winced as she heard the snapping of bone, heard Rio apologize, but didn’t hear the slightest sound from Athena. Well. Good thing she wasn’t on the girl’s shit list, because fuck. The Murder Siblings were scarier than she’d clocked them. Nodding at Athena’s shout, she continued to charge after Lydia but the fact remained-- her magic wasn’t of any use right now, not when there were too many innocent bystanders who would get caught in the literal line of fire. But, Winston was on top of that-- they always were. More cables shot from the ground, like tendrils, and grabbed at the enraptured pedestrians, restraining them. Not for the first time, Luce was grateful for their abilities, both of the magical and problem solving variety. They’d managed to create a narrow pathway through the bodies, straight towards Lydia. “Got it!” Luce yelled as she ran through the crowd. While Winston might have stopped them from being able to bar the path, Luce gritted her teeth as the people thrashed and kicked and hit, the blows landing against her as she ran. Nails scratched at her skin, drawing blood, and she felt one of the hands yank against the choker around her neck. The material closed around her neck and she let out a strangled snarl before incinerating the thin ribbon with a burst of flame. “You can’t fucking run from us, bitch!” She yelled as she sprinted towards Lydia and threw the iron spear, aiming for the space in front of her. The iron spear skewered the side of a plastic newspaper stand box, effectively barring Lydia’s path.

 Her Aos Sí preferred to practice chasing than being chased. They didn’t focus on it, considering it beneath themselves to spend more time thinking about Hunters than was utterly necessary, but one thing they had always stressed was that looking behind you would only slow you down. Lydia’s mouth filled with saliva even as she gasped for breath, and the more she ran, the less fussy she was as to who she spit on. Children were no longer off limits as she yelled for them to protect her. The whistling in one ear only grew louder the harder she had to breath, each step searingly painful with every injury from the last few days. Lydia was dizzy from it all, dizzy because her left ear didn’t work thanks to Regan’s temper tantrum. She couldn’t ignore her pain like Deirdre, or disguise it like Felix, or heal like Remmy, and she was beginning to slow, grabbing a random human for support so that she didn’t lose her balance. Lydia couldn’t hear what was happening behind her, couldn’t hear Luce’s scream or Winston’s yells, or that her human shield had a highway right through it. It sounded like she was winning, even as she stumbled, clutching her side, her breathe laborious and agonising.

 Lydia didn’t hear anything at all until a spear shot past her, punching through the newspaper stand and quivering. She turned right, staring at Luce for only a split second before spitting on a burly man and pushing him towards Luce. “RIO!” She screamed, “PROTECT ME!” Lydia turned on her heel and ducked through a back alley, which in turn twisted right, into a space full of dumpsters and a large garage for some kind of delivery van. Lydia skidded to a stop, wincing as she almost tripped over her own feet again. All the buildings joined together. Lydia jogged over to peer around a drain pipe, where she could get through to the other street… if there hadn’t been a fence in the way. “No-” Lydia breathed, spinning around. “There has to be-” There was a five storey building to her right, with a large fire escape down the side. “Thank god,” Lydia said, dropping the glamour on her wings and running over to it, launching herself into flight. Lightning speared through her back, Lydia screamed as she crumbled to the ground, her knee skidding through a week old abandoned ready meal from McDonalds. Kaden Langley had shredded her wing - without it, she could not reach. 

 There wasn’t a lot of time to figure out a plan, and Orion couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t messy. Physically compelled to help this woman who had hurt Ariana and murdered one of her friends. Forced against his will to fight against his own friends and sister. How did Rio complete his promise without hurting the ones that he loved? He caught up to Winston quickly, diving into them and causing them both to crash against the ground. Rio rolled away from them quickly and pushed back up onto his feet. “You have to stop me” Rio told Winston. Rio brandished the knife again, the thing burning against his palm. “No, no, no” Rio fought against himself. He couldn’t hurt Winston. Not anymore than he already had. Not with this stupid knife. Rio was frantic. He didn’t know how to stop himself. He glanced behind him to see Luce still hot on Lydia’s trail. “Damn it!” Rio called it, spinning from Winston. He needed to slow Luce down. But he didn’t want to hurt her. Unfortunately, as was the case with Athena, he didn’t think that was possible at the moment. He repositioned the knife in his hand, “I’m sorry” he mumbled his apologies to Luce before aiming and hurling the thing at her, aiming for her leg. Enough to slow her down, not to permanently injure her. “Knock me out. Please, god Winston. I can’t stop.” He turned to face Winston again, pleading with them before his body would force him to fight them.

 Shoving her way past the people who were trying to stop her from reaching Lydia, Luce made her way towards the woman. She needed to do this, needed to end this. In the time that she’d been gone, the coven, her mother, her sisters, they’d been in danger. And she’d had no way of knowing, because she’d been to fucking cowardly to face the shit that was happening here in White Crest. But, she wasn’t going to run away. Not from this, not from Lydia and the threat she held towards her and everyone else she cared about. Not when the woman had the power to bend anyone she wanted to her will. Luce remembered just what Lydia had done to August, had seen the way she’d forced him to promise away his magic, had watched as he’d broken his own bones. As Lydia ran in the opposite direction of the spear, Luce paused to wrench it free from the newspaper box. But, in that small window of time, she heard Rio swear and then felt the tip of a knife plunge into the back of her leg, just below the edge of her shorts. “Fuck!” She swore, the word coming out in a strangle gasp of pain. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Rio staring at Winston, begging them. She swallowed. Winston… they had to take care of this. Grasping the knife in her leg, Luce let out a hiss of pain before yanking it out. “FUCK!” Blood rolled freely down her skin, covering her tattoos in a slick sheen of red. “Lydia, you bitch!” She snarled, knife held tightly in her grasp as she continued after the woman, forcing herself into a limping jog.

 It was becoming increasingly clear that if they all didn’t finish this off soon, Lydia might actually get away with everything. Athena squeezed her eyes shut for another moment, concentrating all of her focus on the task at hand. Her arm hurt like nothing she had ever truly experienced before, and yet she knew that she couldn’t focus on that right now. That was for later, and whatever pain she had to work through would be worth it. Not to mention, her divinely given abilities (no matter what had happened with her parents, she still couldn’t shake those words, shake that belief entirely - and now was certainly not the time to be focusing on that most of all. She was grateful for all that Luce and Winston were doing - and impressed as well, if she let herself pause to process that for any length of time. She’d express her gratitude later, once this was all done. She stood up, finally, legs far more shaky than she wished for them to be, and concentrated on the despicable, terrible, crawling feeling of a fae being nearby. Lydia had taken off, and Athena made her way after her, after Luce - she spotted her brother throw something at Luce and she winced, only for a moment, but Luce kept moving and she just had to hope and trust that Winston could control her brother. 

 Winston had been holding back a little bit. It was Rio. There wasn’t a single person in their life that meant half as much as he did right now and Winston hadn’t been able to hurt them. But their hesitance had gotten Luce hurt and as they watched the knife sail end over end through the air, Winston swallowed sadly and shook their head. “Okay… Rio ... I’m sorry.” Tears balanced in their eye as they reached into their pocket and fished out the taser they had originally designed to kill mime dopplegangers. A few adjustments had been easy enough and it worked to stun, incapacitate and kill. Flicking the settings around, Winston feinted left before bringing the taser right. They watched the two long pins of a vey heavily modified cattle prod connect with Rio’s side before they sent a long and what would undoubtedly be a painful blast of electricity through Orion. Enough volts to really do something too. They just hoped that it wasn’t too much. Orion’s body crumpled in Winston’s arms and they gently set them down, leaning them against a wall before hurtling after Luce. Sweat glistened on their forehead but there was no choice but to get her. This had to stop. They couldn’t let anyone else get hurt by this monster. 

 “No, no, no,” Lydia gasped, eyes flicking around the space. None of the fire escapes were lower, walls looming around her like a cage, the stench of rotting food and human waste filling her lungs. This couldn’t be it. There had to be some door that was unlocked, some window she could squeeze through, but she was hardly the first person to look for a way into the ground floor back here. Lydia slammed her shoulder into a door and screamed as it only rattled. If her arm wasn’t broken, if her other wasn’t burned, if her wings- Lydia’s mind kept slipping back to Deirdre, to the buzzing of her phone. It wasn’t about Texas, or Morgan, or the squished hedgehog she’d found on the side of the road. It hadn’t been, for the past two dozen calls. Lydia stepped back, her breathing shallow, eyes flicking from shuttered window to shuttered window. She should have picked up hours ago. There was nowhere she wanted to be more than in Deirdre’s arms right now. The iron spear, the copper wires, Lydia looked down at her bleeding ankle and whimpered. There had to be more than this. If she ran back through the crowd, she could push people into Winston. Twist Luce’s own mind against her with the saliva in her mouth. 

 There had to be more, but Deirdre had been calling. Perhaps it would have happened in Lydia’s living room, with the fire lit, a bottle of glass in her belly. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt the poison shutting down her brain. Or perhaps Deirdre would have slit her throat, and would have held Lydia in her warm arms as Lydia’s own heat spilled out of her in just a few short seconds. Deirdre had been calling. Because she had promised that Lydia would not die a bad death. Lydia could barely hear what was happening in the street back there, but she had seconds, and nowhere to go. 

 Lydia didn’t even realise she was reaching for her phone before she’d even decided. She was still looking around as her thumb tapped the screen. Deirdre was on speeddial, but that didn’t mean she would pick up fast. Lydia could hear only her heartbeat faster that the dial tone. Buzz, thumpthumpthum, buzz- “I rel-” but the voice on the other line wasn’t Deirdre’s at all. It took another precious second to place the panicked tones, for Lydia to recognise  Morgan’s voice. Lydia almost sobbed at the sudden relief of it, hearing it for the first time since Morgan had told her goodbye on that awful day. Lydia caught words and snippets, barely able to piece the words together. There wasn’t time. “Deirdr- Morgan, DEIRDRE, NOW!” Lydia yelled, stifling a pitiful sound against her lip. She could barely make out what Morgan said as Lydia scrabbled to hide behind an air vent, leaning her head against the cool metal. “I relinquish you,” she breathed, the single most important thing Deirdre needed to know.  The red thread that bound them together dropped away and Lydia sobbed for its disappearance. She couldn’t hear anyone nearby, so she hurriedly tripped over her words, trying to whisper what she needed Deirdre (and Morgan, by extension) to hear. “I love you, you’re the best fae in that town, no matter what anyone says, you’re like a sister to-”

 Rage mixed with adrenaline and the heady combination urged Luce’s legs forward, even as pain radiated up her leg with every step she took. She trailed after Lydia, the spear heavy in her left hand, the knife bloody in her right. Fire burned within her, the magic begging to be released. But she couldn’t, not now. Not yet. Luce limped towards the alleyway that Lydia had run down, the spear point dragging against the asphalt as she rounded the corner. Looking around, Luce’s gaze fell on the woman screaming into her phone, clutching it like it was a lifeline. Without a word, Luce raised her hand and hurled the knife back at Lydia, sending it flying towards her. It missed, bouncing off the side of the building behind the Fae woman, but that wasn’t the point. She didn’t care if it landed because the second it had left her finger tips, the witch had thrown herself forward, spear raised and ready. Luce lunged forward, using momentum and anger to carry her. The speartip pierced through the flesh of Lydia’s shoulder, but Luce continued onwards, a ragged shout ripping through her throat as she forced the spear through the woman’s shoulder and pinned her to the wall of the alleyway. Staggering backwards, arms shaking from the effort, Luce glared at the woman. She said nothing, because there was nothing left for her to say. She was going to die here, die gasping and bleeding and in so much pain. And with her would die the threat that Lydia posed to Bea, to Nell, to her mother, to all of White Crest. 

 Athena continued to follow Luce and Lydia closely. She found the two of them turning down an alleyway, and straightened her posture, slipping another one of her knives out from its hiding space and she watched, a smirk crossing her face, as Luce threw her knife at Lydia. Lydia whimpering into the phone. Athena walked up towards where Lydia was, turning her head curiously as she had those many days of dissections during her biology classes in high school. She wouldn’t go that far, now - that would be too much and might make police do more investigative work than would be good for anyone involved, but she wanted Lydia to hurt. “You know, I don’t think calling for help is going to do you much good.” She hummed to herself before she moved a few steps closer and took one first cut against Lydia’s shoulder blade. “That must burn, mustn't it? Though I believe in balance so…” She flipped the knife in her hand, grateful that the satisfaction of hurting someone like Lydia did at least something to lessen the searing pain in her broken arm. “I’ll go for the other one, too. Not the heart yet, though I am curious about if someone who has behaved in the way that you have even has one to speak of.” Athena held her knife close to Lydia’s jawline. “Don’t try to move. I’m quick on my feet, and it seems as though she is too,” she glanced over to Luce. “I’ve got more where this one came from.” 

 As usual Winston was the last to arrive. It didn’t really matter, they were still pretty concerned for Rio and would’ve much rather been checking on him. However, he was tough, whether or not he admitted it, the poor guy had been through more then many had and still managed to retain his kindness and compassion which was honestly no small feat. Yet despite all of that Winston knew that they had to stop Lydia once and for all. Their life wouldn’t be okay until then. She’d interfered too much. With Todd, with Rio, in their own life, it was all… concerning. Swallowing, Winston rounded the corner to see Lydia pinned painfully in place. She looked… well almost pathetic frankly. Pinned to a wall, helpless, covered in wounds and hurting. Winston couldn’t say anything, there was nothing to say, all they could do was watch with an almost morbid curiosity. 

 Like everything else, Lydia did not hear Luce approaching in the same way she could not hear what, if anything, Deirdre was saying in reply, the last words she might ever hear, stolen from her because of a scream. She gasped as the knife whipped past her face, stumbling back. The phone slipped out of her hands, the one good thing she could have accomplished done. The spear pierced through her shoulder, sizzling and searing her flesh as it went under her collarbone, and hit against her shoulder blade. Lydia screamed as it caught there, scraping against the bone as Luce drove it even further forward. The bone cracked and wrenched her shoulder down as the spear pushed it out of place, driving through her back and piercing the metal vent behind her. Lydia shrieked as her legs gave out and the burning iron ate at her flesh. Every thrash of her limbs spilled fresh blood down her clothes until she managed to get her legs under her again, supporting just enough weight that the spear wasn’t pressing quite so hard against her clavicle. She tried to grab the spear with her hand, only for blisters to grow and burst, pus leaking out of her hand. Lydia’s glamour fell, skin glowing, damaged wing on show, her ears extended. Her irises looked even more iridescently blue while bloodshot and tearstained. Lydia stared at Athena in confusion. 

 “No- please-” Lydia whimpered, “I haven’t done anything to you I haven-AAAGH!” Lydia screamed at the simple iron cut on her other side, crushing part of the vent as she jerked from the pain, almost passing out. But that would have been too kind, the sharp agony forcing her awake, sobbing disgustingly as  Athena held the knife to her chin, and her flesh began to blister too, the rancid smell of overcooked barbeque cloying her senses. From the corner of her eye, she saw Winston approach too. “I’ll give you Todd back!” She cried, “I’ll relinquish him, you won’t know the difference, but you have to let me go. Please, Winston, I can’t- I’ll let him go!” Whatever brief acceptance of death there had been in the quiet was gone now as Lydia rabidly tried to pull any threads of fae promise to work in her favour. She looked back to the glimmer of satisfaction in Athena’s eyes, and realised how close they were. “Please, just let me go,” she whimpered, filling her mouth with toxic saliva. “Please, please, you don’t have to do this,” Lydia reared her head back slightly then spat in Athena’s face, watching the glob of spit run down Athena’s cheek. Maybe this wasn’t it after all, hope flickering like a candle in a storm. “Help me leave, please!”

 Winston swallowed at the mention of Todd. He was their friend. He had been their friend for more time then Winston had known about all of this and although there was literally no proof that knowing Winston had anything to do with Todd becoming involved with Lydia, Winston couldn’t help but feel profoundly responsible for everything that had happened to him. Swallowing, Winston considered everything, but they doubted that either Luce or Athena would let anything happen and Winston was pretty sure that the promise would’ve been broken by her death. “I’m sorry Lydia, but it’s not really my choice, I know you took him and I know you think he’s yours to return, but Todd doesn’t belong to anyone and that sort of thinking, treating humans as if they belong to someone-- as if they’re objects to be traded and bargained with … that’s too dangerous to be…” they couldn’t say it. They might be a killer now. They might be responsible for deaths and they might’ve done wrong but Winston couldn’t admit to it. “It’s out of my hands.” They looked at Athena and Luce, wondering what would happen next. 

 Luce turned her back on Lydia, limping away from the scene as Winston and Athena closed in. She braced herself against the wall at the edge of the alley while the blood continued to drip down her leg. She was weaponless now and her fire wouldn’t do much to stop anyone who was caught in Lydia’s thrall. But, she had to do something to make sure people couldn’t just stop them. This needed to end. Lydia needed to die. And she’d done her part, she’d helped get Athena where she needed her to be. Luce gritted her teeth as she listened to the screaming, the begging, the pleading. In those moments, she could almost forget what Lydia was capable of. Almost. But, she could never forget what she’d seen that day in the woman’s mansion. With a stubborn determination, Luce knocked over a large stack of empty plastic crates, hoping they’d block the alley from the people who were no doubt clawing at their wire confines. “I don’t know how long we have here.” Luce called over her shoulder as she leaned heavily against the wall, pressing her hand against the wound on her leg in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

 She could hear Lydia screaming, and it did little else other than further spark her curiosity. Athena figured that perhaps she ought to have flinched more than she did at the scream, but she’d watched countless operations that her father had performed, and so the screaming of a fae did little to cause a reaction. Instead, it felt good, right, and although she didn’t like to think about what similarities she held to her father (not now, not now - not when she still couldn’t help but hear her parents’ words, sometimes), she did know that she felt this way; that this much was true. Winston had arrived now, without her brother, and she didn’t want to focus on whatever was going on with Ri, right now - because hyperfocus on her brother and whatever he was going through was only going to serve to distract her, and that would increase the likelihood of failing at what she’d set out to do.

 If she were someone kinder, gentler (more like her brother, she thought) then Lydia’s pleading might have done more to work its way into her heart. Athena had long ago shut herself off from feeling anything when she hunted. It didn’t do her any good, and it was part of why she was so often very successful. Shutting out everything else permitted her to be single minded, and all of a sudden she felt something wet against her cheek and her hand flew up to touch it, fingers brushing along her cheek. Well, Lydia may have been cunning in many other ways, but still had yet to figure out that Athena was a warden. “That kind of thing doesn’t work on me.” She giggled, and the sound was off, she knew that much, but everything was all happening so fast and she heard - noted - Luce’s words - they were in public and though Lydia now very much looked as inhuman as she was, it didn’t mean that people wouldn’t come running and wouldn’t come wondering about all the screaming. She shook her head. “No, you made a terrible, horrible, very bad mistake.” She ran her knife along Lydia’s jaw then. She wanted her to suffer - for what she was but now, moreover, for all the harm that she’d caused. For what she’d made Ri do, for what she’d made Ariana do, for the fact that she surpassed the normal vileness of Leanan-Sidhe and kept humans in her basement. 

 Her arm still hurt - she did her best to not focus on that either, even though it meant that she couldn’t quite do her normal handiwork. So one-handed it would have to be. Athena took her knife again, though its color was stained darker from her handiwork thus far. She hated how public their location was, despite being off to the side in an alleyway. It meant that she probably couldn’t let Lydia suffer as painful of a death as she would have wished for her to. “Are you afraid?” Her lips fell into a small smile, eyes staring straight at Lydia. She was severely injured - had been, to a point it seemed before everyone present had gotten ahold of her. Her knife sliced through Lydia’s clothing, cutting into her skin just below her heart. Not straight to the heart, that would have been too much of a mercy. Athena had memorized the most effective ways to kill, and though she’d granted her parents that to a degree, she couldn’t bring herself to, now. “She’s almost gone.” She murmured, her voice halfway vacant, not fully present. She’d checked out towards the end sometimes during her father’s surgeries in their home. “It won’t be long now, I don’t think.” Voice monotone, she turned to look at Winston. “I did what I had to do.”

 What Winston saw in that moment would stain their memory forever. Like a black spot in their mind it would continue to haunt their dreams. The way that Athena worked, the efficiency of the knife and the way that it cut through Lydia was the stuff of nightmares. But what would really bother them was how they hadn’t intervened. After all, she’d deserved it. She’d hurt so many people, she deserved this pain. She deserved to feel some of the torment that she had made so many other people feel. Though in their heart of hearts Winston was sure that wasn’t true; they knew better then to allow someone else to suffer and they would regret this for the rest of their life. Once it was all over, and Lydia lay their suffering, Winston … swallowed. Shaking themselves out of their daze, Winston scooped up the abandoned spear that Luce had left behind and tentatively held it for a moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner…” was all they could manage to say. Their voice was barely a whisper. Their fingers tensed around the shaft of the spear before they drove it through Lydia’s heart. Blood sprayed out of the wound covering Winston’s hands, but they didn’t care. They might not have done the right thing earlier but it wasn’t too late to try and make things better. “It’s time to go.” They couldn’t make eye contact with Athena, they couldn’t look at Luce, they just had to get out of here and find Todd and make sure Rio was okay. 

 Lydia had heard the dying thoughts and fears of nearly fifty humans, she had thought she knew what it was to fear death. She had felt with startling clarity what it was to have the last tendrils of your life gently coaxed out of you after years of suffering. Nothing that prepared her for this, as Athena dragged the burning hot blade along her jaw, cutting through the burns to make fresh ones. With every cut, Athena tore apart every thread of Lydia’s sense of self, her voice hoarse as she wailed and wept. Eventually, even her begging was reduced to unintelligible gibberish, but for Athena, even that wasn’t enough. Perhaps the only mercy Regan had left her was that Lydia could not completely make out Athena’s last taunts over the pounding of her heart as Athena scraped her blade against the ridges of Lydia’s sternum, burning flesh and bone alike. 

 Every scream should have been wrung out of her, but Athena managed to tear one more out of her wretched lungs as Athena drove her knife between Lydia’s ribs. Her diaphragm and lungs bubbled and blistered under the harsh heat of the cold iron. Her vision still did not blacken, the very pain of dying keeping her awake. Like a tease, Death did not offer any reprieve quite yet as Lydia began to slowly choke on the trickle of blood that seeped into her lungs. She sobbed and tried to call Athena back to end it, not to leave her here like a bug pinned in a museum, but Athena did not turn back. Lydia saw Winston approach, but did not really see them at all, not even as they pulled the spear out of her shoulder. She did not hear their whispered apology, nor could she understand their expression, but she barely made a sound as they shattered her sternum. Her heart convulsed around the spear once, twice, and came to a final, shuddering halt. 

 There was a scream and then there was silence. Luce looked back down the alley, eyes going first to Athena, who had a ghost of a smile on her face, then to Winston, their hands covered in blood. And then to Lydia. Or rather, the body that had once been her. Remorse wasn’t a thing that she felt, not for the Fae woman. But, this was dirty work, hard work. And Winston had been the one to finish it. They shouldn’t have had to do that. Forcing herself into motion, Luce braced herself against the side of the wall as she made her way back to where Lydia’s body lay. “Hey,” She said quietly as she rested her clean hand on Winston’s shoulder, “We did what we had to do. For all the people she’s hurt, and for the lives she would have taken. We did what we had to.” Whatever it takes. The mantra returned to her mind and Luce sighed. But when would that end? 

 “You guys should go ahead. Get Rio, get him out of here. I’ll… clean this up.” Luce said with a nod, gesturing to the crumpled heap of Lydia’s body. Grasping the spear, she pulled it free from the corpse. It slid free with a sticking, wet noise and the body slumped over on the alley way. With an impassive gaze, Luce stared down at the body before her. She’d done what was right. She’d done what she had to. She did what she needed to make sure that the people she cared for were safe. Lydia would never hurt anyone again, she’d never bend them to her will. This was the right thing. 

 A circle of blue flame sprang to life around the body. Luce watched the tongues dance as she urged them higher, to burn hotter, to close in. The flames obeyed and she watched as flesh and blood, cloth and wing, give way to the fire. A thick acrid scent filled the air and Luce stepped back, her eyes watering from the intensity. It was the easiest way, the simplest solution. But, it was messy. She didn’t want Athena or Winston to see this, didn’t want them to see the way the flesh melted from the bone as the fire consumed it all. Didn’t want to have them watch the way the woman’s wings began to slowly crumble under the heat. Gritting her teeth, Luce fed more magic to the flames and watched Lydia burn.

 Winston swallowed dryly at Luce’s words as they made their way out of the alley, they knew that they had done what they had to do, but in the last year it had simply felt like they had been doing what they had had to do. They had lost so much doing what they had had to do. They had seen friends die. They had seen friends hurt. They had been hurt and they had killed. Was it two times? Three times? How had they lost count? Lydia, August, cultists, vampires. What counted as killing and what didn’t? Where was the line? Where could Winston truly say that they were able to accept what they had done. When were they going to be honest and say that they’d let this go too far. Having power … as cliche as it was meant there was responsibility … they should be better than this. The lump in their throat wouldn’t go and the blood on their hands wouldn’t stop glistening. Winston knew that Luce was right. They needed to go. “At what point do we start taking responsibility for the things we’ve done, irrespective of why we’ve done it?” Winston didn’t need an answer, after all there probably wasn’t one. Heading away from the alley, they moved back to Rio and wrapped an arm tightly under his armpit, struggling to haul him to his feet they began to head away from this, away from the now charred corpse of Lydia, away from the acrid smell of burning flesh that hung in the air.

 Orion wasn’t sure how long they had been out, only that he finally began to stir back to consciousness by being pulled onto his feet. It took a moment for Rio to adjust to the shifting before he finally jolted, stumbling forward and almost falling out of Winston’s grasp entirely. They caught him, but the sudden movement stirred a sinking migraine that had already been looming. “Wha-” He couldn’t exactly form coherent words or sentences at first. The first thing Rio was truly able to focus on was the burning pain in his side. He grabbed at it, more pain prickling up his skin as he let the memories slowly come back to him. As he began to remember what had led to him waking up here, he realized that he didn’t have the words to say, even if he could manage to speak them. How could he have been so stupid? How many people had he hurt, either directly or indirectly, by helping that woman? He wanted to cry. To scream and curse and punch the ground. But all of those actions were pointless. He couldn’t take back what he had done. He certainly couldn’t punch the pain away. “I’m going to be sick” was the first sentence he managed, breaking away from Winston’s grasp and falling against the grass. Catching himself on his palms and knees, Rio lost the little food and water he had in him. Was this caused by his guilt? The increasingly strong smell that he couldn’t ignore anymore? Maybe it was punishment for failing to complete his promise. Was trying enough? Or was he stuck with whatever consequences came from breaking a fae promise? If it was, Rio deserved whatever it had in store for him. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I don’t- I can’t believe-” At a loss for words again, Rio stopped trying. He just wanted to go home.

 Winston had finished off the job, and Athena’s lips twisted around for a moment, unsure of what to make of that. It was a final mercy, and Lydia didn’t deserve that, but it was final, which meant there was no chance of her coming back. Rio. Luce’s words cut through to her and she nodded, she had to find her brother. She grabbed a handkerchief out of her pocket, running it along the blade, moving as she’d been taught, not thinking about it - and she followed Winston out of the alleyway as the smell of burning flesh cut through the air. It was no use to focus on that right now - it was better to think of it as nothing more than when one of the kids on the soccer team had found a dead squirrel in the summer heat. That was all this was, and any other thought wouldn’t do anybody any good. In fact, recalling that particular memory was too kind for what Lydia had done. 

 She spotted her brother, but before she could reach out to him, Winston had grabbed ahold of him - which was probably better, because now that she didn’t have Lydia’s body, Lydia’s death, the feeling of the knife cutting into flesh to focus on, she could feel the pain shoot up her arm, bruising where Rio had grabbed it and snapped it. Athena shook her head. She’d get to the hospital whenever they got back to White Crest. “You don’t need to say sorry.” She said, walking over to where her brother and Winston were. “That wasn’t you, back there.” Athena wasn’t quite sure how much of whatever she was saying was getting through to her brother; she only knew that she hated seeing him like this. It was only more proof that what she’d done to Lydia was all worth it. “You’re fine. You’re safe. She’s not going to hurt you or anyone else ever again.” She tucked away the knife, a small giggle threatening to escape from her lips - perhaps from some combination of relief and desperate, still-present worry for her brother, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t make it, and instead Athena knelt next to her brother for a moment, brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, as gently as she could. “Everything’s alright now. I -” she looked up at Winston, looked over toward the alleyway, “we all dealt with it. Everything’s okay. I won’t let anyone try to hurt you ever again.” Another pause. “We won’t. You are stronger than you think. I’ve got proof of that. Now, I think we should get out of here, yeah?”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Friendship Fail || Morgan & Luce

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Downtown

PARTIES: @divineluce & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan isn’t leveled up enough to access Luce’s backstory.

“I’m heading out for the night. See you tomorrow, Ulf.” Luce said as she locked up her workspace and headed out the backdoor of Ink Inc. Her wrist was killing her from the extra hours she’d put in today, but whatever. The bills were piling up and she needed to get a handle on them before she was drowning in debt. That was the bitch of life in White Crest, wasn’t it? Knowing that there were forces beyond your control, that there were people trying to murder and torture and control other people at every turn, that ghosts were out here possessing people, that love potions were fucking people up and on top of it all? She had goddamn hospital bills to pay.

“Fuck.” She muttered, rubbing the back of her neck as she stepped out of Ink Inc and began to head towards Soul. This had been her routine for the past few weeks-- extra hours and long days at Ink Inc followed by drinks at Soul followed by crashing for whatever sleep she could snag. Wash, rinse, repeat. Throw in some sleepless nights, a cat trying to smother her in her sleep, and researching how to get ghosts to fuck off… it made for a great time. Luce caught a glimpse of herself in the windows of one of the storefronts and winced. She looked like shit. “Christ.” She sighed. As she continued down the sidewalk, she noticed a small familiar figure walking across the other side-- Fuck.

Morgan was desperate to get back into the swing of things. Deirdre was back to being herself, the semester was underway, and even if the fairy rings wouldn’t be gone for two more months, the broken pieces of her life were starting to hold together. Enough so that Morgan even delighted in late night runs downtown for forgotten goods. Normal, manageable levels of chaos. That is, until she saw Luce coming out of Ink Inc, looking more sour-faced than she had even at Bea’s birthday party.

“Luce...?” She called. “Hey!” She waved her down and jogged quickly across the street to catch up to her. “How’s it going?” She asked. “Are you doing okay?”

Luce did her best to try and hurry away without looking like she was outright running away, but fuck. For fuck’s sake. After the conversation she’d had with Morgan online, she didn’t want to deal with the woman at all. She didn’t want her pity, didn’t want her weird invasive questions, didn’t want to have to deal with any of that. She was doing just fine on her own, no matter what other people thought. She was fine. Or at least, she would be with a drink in her hand. “I was.” She growled, her tone testy as she continued down the street. The bar was only a few blocks further, but fuck, it had never felt so far away. Casting a withering look at the woman, Luce made an offhand gesture to try and get the woman to just fucking… go, “Leave me alone, Morgan.”

Morgan slowed down. She didn’t know what Luce was running from or what was weighing on her so bad, but she could feel the ugliness of it rolling off her. “Sorry I happen to give a shit and be concerned,” she said, stopping short as the witch rebuffed her. “What is your deal? Why are you--” Like this, she wanted to say. She stopped herself frowning, and asked instead, “Did I...do something piss you off that I’m not aware of?”

“Yeah, sure did.” Luce replied brusquely, though the words were a lie. Morgan hadn’t done anything, not really. She was just being her weird… fucking good vibes, hippy bullshit self. And yeah, Luce knew that wasn’t all there was to the former witch. She knew some of the baggage the woman carried with her, remembered that jarring lack of sensation, had felt the pain of existing as a soul stuck in the husk of a body that had once been hers. But, Morgan was determined. And, worse, Morgan knew Remmy. Cared about Remmy. Wanted nothing but the best for Remmy. And for some fucked up reason, thought that Luce could be that for them. “I just got done with a 6 hour session and was trying to go the bar. Instead of that, you’re here, bothering me. Do I really need more of a reason to get annoyed with that?” She replied.

It only took Morgan a few seconds to consider this. “Yes. Yes, I do,” she said. “Because all of this--” She gestured vaguely at Luce, “Is a little disproportionate to everything we have going on here. And I get it, if you’re looking for an outlet and need an easy target, you’ve had the shittiest time and none of it’s fair, but a head’s up might be nice. Or, you know, cut a dead girl a break and pick someone else or, I don’t know, actually say what it is that’s actually got you so upset!” She held her arms out, gesturing to all the nothing that Luce acting like an angry time bomb was helping. “This might be wild, but there are people here for you. I’m here for you, Luce. Or I would be if you let me.”

If she let people be there for her. Luce let out a derisive snort and shook her head. That was what had gotten her into this mess, wasn’t it? She’d tried to help Bea, tried to protect Nell, tried to rescue Remmy, tried to save Nadia, had done so much to be there for people that she’d forgotten why she’d cut herself off from her family in the first place. It never made things better. Doing things, helping people, it only made things worse. It dug a deeper hole, one where people thought that asking about your feelings would suddenly make everything better. “I don’t want your help. Go help Remmy. Or, better yet, stay in your own lane and worry about your own shit.” Luce growled, all venom.

“Then what do you want, Luce?” Morgan asked, softer now. “And I don’t mean your angry teenager nonsense, I mean, really. What is it that you want? Because the last time we talked, it seemed like it wasn’t all that hard to get. You just have to ask for it and believe that you’re worth more than whatever your mom or whoever else told you. You...you can just say, Luce. The world’s not gonna fall down or turn its back on you or mock you or whatever else you think is gonna happen. And, you know, even if it did, then fuck the world! Try again anyway! We have one pathetic life here, so why not?” She held her gaze, exasperated in all her sympathy. She’d tried this whole routine a few times before and it always fell apart. She wasn’t the kind of person who could commit to giving up or walking away unless someone made her. But she didn’t think that made much of a difference. Shutting your life away when you were hurt only made you lose more than you already had, and Morgan didn’t want that for Luce.

“I want you to leave me alone, Morgan.” Luce insisted as she continued down the street. She didn’t like hearing this, didn’t like being forced in a situation where she couldn’t just delete her words, or go offline. Having Morgan here, talking to her, yelling at her in her face? It was too fucking real and she didn’t want that. At the mention of her mother, though, Luce’s blood froze and she whirled around, anger in her eyes. “Don’t talk about my mother.” She warned the woman. She didn’t want to fucking think about her mom. What she’d done, to her, to her sisters. What the entire fucking coven had done to them. The night she’d been cast out-- yes, she’d been prepared for it, had known that the consequences for what they’d done were coming. But, it still felt like she’d lost a limb, like she’d lost a piece of herself. The coven had mattered to her. Beyond Ink Inc., it one of the few places that she felt as though she was contributing to something that mattered. And now she didn’t even have that. “What I want doesn’t fucking matter-- there’s shit that needs to get done.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan sighed. It looked like she had guessed right about at least one of the things bothering Luce, but of course it was a sore spot. She held up her hands in a half-hearted truce. She wouldn’t go there; not explicitly, anyway. “But what you want does matter. Of course it matters. You matter, Luce. You matter as much as anyone.” She risked a tentative step forward. “And whatever you need to get done--” And stars, she had no idea what that Luce needed to get done. She’d never done half the things the Vural girls had done, had no idea how to move forward from the kinds of losses and twisted paybacks they’d faced. She’d never had enough family or love to need to. But she’d been tired before, and desperate, and angry. She had woken up mornings to see nothing but the endless, screwed up grind against odds she couldn’t beat and people who didn’t care. For all she knew those times were only a fraction of what Luce had to deal with; how could she not feel for her? “You don’t have to be alone. And I don’t believe you really want to be. People want to be here, they want to listen. I want to listen, because you’re my friend and I care about you. But if you won’t talk to me, at least...pick someone? Trust someone. You’re worth it, okay?”

Irritation and anger burning hotly in her veins, Luce glared at the woman, crossing her arms and holding her ground as Morgan took a step towards her. “Cut the fucking “you’re valid” special snowflake bullshit.” She growled. Morgan was patronizing her and she didn’t fucking need it. Or want it. “You think I don’t want to be alone? Well, joke’s on you because that’s exactly what I want. I want to be alone, in my cabin, away from all of this shit.” She said before moving forward, attempting to brush past the other woman. But, as she pushed forward, her shoulder collided with Morgan’s unyielding, solid arm. “Christ!” Luce swore, shaking her already sore arm out. Fucking zombies. “Fuck off. You’re not my fucking friend. Go find someone else to play bleeding heart with.”

“First of all, if you really wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t have so many friends to lose in the first place,” Morgan said, putting out a hand for Luce to keep her distance, lest she hurt herself or rip off the last of Morgan’s patience. “Second of all: you can be as pissed as you like for as many shitty reasons as you like, but you do not get to look me in the face and tell me I’m full of shit. You don’t know my whole story either, Luce, and you do not get to decide that I’m playing some game or lying to you just because what I’m saying makes you uncomfortable. Just because I don’t cope with my suffering like you do, doesn’t mean I’m not for real.” Morgan didn’t raise her voice. She had a fist around her temper and was determined to keep it steady. But Luce had finally succeeded in making her angry and Morgan couldn’t swallow it down. “And I am your friend. Maybe you’re not mine, I can live with that, but you’re not going to re-narrate my feelings for me to fit your forever-alone scheme. Because you’re not. You’re just not. What on the mother’s earth is so awful or scary about that?”

“I don’t have friends-- I’ve just got,” Luce paused, not sure how to explain her situation. Her sisters, they were blood, they were family. That much made sense in her mind. But, Remmy, Nadia, Ulf, Ariana, hell, even Erin? They weren’t friends. “Obligations.” She muttered. Yeah. Obligations was the best way she could put it. They were all people who didn’t deserve the hand they’d been dealt and she had a way to try and make things right. But, had she even done that? The situation with Remmy was weirder than ever, Nadia was still… not Nadia, Ulf had been distant, Ariana had still lost her sister, and she’d burned all her bridges with Erin. Because that’s what she did. She burned her bridges while she was still on them. Christ. “Fine, you’re for real with this. Whatever. Doesn’t mean I have to listen to you.” Rubbing her shoulder, Luce glared at the woman. “It’s not scary, I just don’t fucking want people.”

“If that’s really so true,” Morgan said, as evenly as she could, “Then why do you bother with people in the first place? Why is there even anyone to push away, Luce? If you really didn’t give a shit about anyone, I don’t see why you’d give anyone the time of day, especially Remmy. So, what is it? Why do you think you shouldn’t get to have people? What’s the worst you think is going to happen? Because whatever it is… Stars, Luce, you’re not a bad person.” Morgan deflated, shaking her head at Luce. “You get to have people, no matter how bad things get. Why is that so hard to believe?”

Because she was fucking stupid, that’s why. She’d left the comfortable isolation of work and her home and somehow, she’d managed to get wrapped up in all of this bullshit of people and obligations and other people’s fucking feelings. Luce swallowed and shook her head. “Fuck off. I know I’m not a bad person, but I’m not a fucking good one either. And I don’t--” She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. “Fuck off with this shit. Get out of my way, Morgan.” She said, knowing that there was no real way she could get the woman out of her path. The zombie had undead strength on her side and Luce couldn’t do much about that.

“You don’t have to be good to deserve people who care about you, Luce,” Morgan said, as if it were obvious. “No one does. There’s no good enough coupon that unlocks the magic friend-having door or the ‘no bad things happening to you anymore’ door. You just...you already do.” She shouldn’t have been surprised at this.She had struggled to explain it to Remmy and Deirdre enough times before. But Luce… she had so much love around her just waiting to be taken, a whole cosmic abundance, Morgan couldn’t get her head around why on earth she’d turn her back on it so stubbornly.

“What the fuck do I have to say to get you off my goddamn back?” Luce growled, her irritation and a strange, creeping sense of… fear? Was that fear that she felt? Christ. Why was she afraid? Because Morgan was here? Because she was asking these questions that Luce didn’t even ask herself? “You know what comes with “friends” and people who want “relationships” from you?” She said, making aggressive air quotes with her hands. “A whole lot of bullshit that involves this. People trying to get into my head, trying to figure out why I do what I do, trying to make me open up. And I don’t fucking want that. I don’t want people to fucking--” Luce paused and shook her head again. “I spent five years perfectly happy and away from everyone else. And that’s what I’m going to do once all this shit with Nadia and Erin and Remmy is taken care of.”

Morgan couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Well, yeah,” she said simply. “Of course that’s what it leads to. That’s what relationships are all about. That’s just how it is being a person. But it’s not a bad thing for someone to know you. I mean, what’s the point if no one ever does?” She tried to find Luce’s gaze, some signal of what fear she was clinging so desperately to. “What are you afraid of happening if someone actually understands something about you? Those people you mentioned aren’t going to run or turn you away. There’s no reason why you would be anything less than accepted, Luce. There just isn’t, okay…? Tell me you at least know that, huh?”

Luce glared at the woman, lips pressed tightly together. It’s not a bad thing for people to know her? Oh fuck off with that. If people knew her, if people understood what was going on in her head, what she thought, how she felt, how fucking… confused and scared and absolutely out of her depth she was, they’d know exactly why she pushed them away. If people saw the full measure of who she was, they’d know exactly how inadequate she was. And that was the scariest part: someone knowing her, knowing her completely? If they left, that worked just fine for her. But, if they didn’t? That’s what fucked her up the most. “I’m not afraid of what they’d do. And if they left, hell, that’d be even better.” She retorted. “I don’t give a shit if people accept me.” Because they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

It took Morgan a few moments to figure out what Luce was really saying. It was so antithetical to everything she’d spent her life craving and against every desire she’d stupidly nurtured headlong into disaster. Luce wasn’t afraid of rejection, she was afraid of...acceptance? Was that so foreign to her that she wouldn’t know what to do with it? Morgan’s face fell as she considered this. “Luce…” She breathed her name gently. “It’s not a bad thing if they do. The world won’t collapse if you’re loved for who you are. It’s okay. You can let them. And if it really doesn’t matter that much to you--” She shrugged, knowing that for whatever reason, it did, it had to, “Why not? What the hell, right?”

The way Morgan said her name pissed her off, like she’d figured something out. Luce’s eyes narrowed. “Get the fuck out of my way, right now.” She said, her hands growing hot with barely restrained flames. Her hands closed into fists at her sides, smothering the blue flames that had begun to lap at the skin of her palms. Not here, but not to Morgan either. As much as the other woman was pissing her off, she couldn’t just light her problems on fire. She’d learned that the hard way. “You think you can bait me into telling you shit? Not happening. Not fucking happening.” She snarled. Morgan didn’t get to know her. No one did.

Morgan could tell that she wasn’t getting through to Luce. Maybe she was the wrong person to be saying this to her. Maybe Luce was so scared, she really did conduct her life to make sure that no one got close enough to convince her. Something wasn’t adding up, but maybe Morgan didn’t have enough variables to make it work. “I’m not baiting you, Luce,” she said. “I don’t know who lied to you for so long that you think everyone who gives a shit about you is running a con, or lying, or doesn’t understand what they’re in for, but that’s just...not how it is. Stars, Luce, you should at least know me enough to figure that part out.”

“Get out of my face.” Luce repeated. She didn’t want to hear about whatever the fuck Morgan was trying to say. “I don’t care how you see the world or what you think I should do. I do what I want. And right now, I want you to leave me alone, I want to get a drink, and I want to pretend like I don’t have to deal with all the fucking bullshit in this town.” She said shaking her head. Because she did. She had to fix shit before she could get back to her cabin, go back to trying to figure out how to harness the strange magic that brewed within her, and go back to being alone. That was all she wanted.

Morgan watched Luce walk away. Her name rose up from her stomach, burned the roof of her mouth, itching to be called out. But if Luce couldn’t understand her five seconds ago, she wouldn’t understand her now. Morgan would have to give her the night to herself before she could even try talking again. She let her go, deflating  and turning back toward her car. Sooner or later someone had to get through to Luce. They had to. Right?

[bountybossier]

That Path We Tread | bea, blanche, luce, nell, nic, & winston

TIMING: Right after this. LOCATION: Bea’s necromancy clearing. PARTIES: @nelllraiser @beatrice-blaze @divineluce @danetobelieve @harlowhaunted SUMMARY: Help. They're dying. I need help. Warnings: Vomit tw, body horror tw

Like a jacked mother possum with all the children on the back.

Exhausted, Winston wrapped their arm more tightly around Bea. Watching Nell and Luce and Blanche. Everything had gone wrong. They’d got her back. Bea was alive. But everyone was fucked up. Winston could barely stand. Fuck they could barely feel like they could breath. They were so hot. Their phone would work to call an ambulance. Sweat poured down their back soaking their shirt. Whenever Winston tried to operate their phone it just refused to work, the screen crackling and it overheating whenever they went near it. So right now it was lying on top of their bag. They spotted someone coming and tried to scramble to their feet before spotting the biggest, burliest man they’d ever seen. The type of man you definitely wouldn’t want to see on a dark night in the forest. Winston had never been more overjoyed to see Nic in their life. Heart swelling with relief, Winston basically choked back a sob of emotion before gaining their composure. “Nic, Nic!” Winston shouted at him, “Fuck, please you need to help, we need to get Luce to a fucking hospital and I can’t get my phone to work and I’m too tired to move Bea and Nell and, fuck, please, help us.” They looked at him pleadingly. Why the fuck was it like one hundred degrees at midnight?

Help. They’re dying. I need help. Nicodemus hadn’t expected anything good to come from what it was they were doing. It was out of his area of expertise, sure, but what was asked of him wasn’t. His expression grew bitter and he moved as soon as his eyes passed over help. Follow the smell of blood and burnt flesh. His empty stomach roiled as he neared the clearing and broke through brush. The smell was thick in his nose and throat. Jesus fucking Christ, what had they all done? Everyone was damn near injured and briefly, he wondered if an attack of some sort happened. There sure as shit was a body. He didn’t know shit all about magic. Had it gone the way they wanted? As he processed, his eyes shot over to Winston. “Fuckin’ shit, Winston,” he said as he walked over in long strides. Put a hand on their shoulder as if it might steady. “It’s alright.” He wasn’t sure about it even as he said it but he understood what they asked of him well enough. “Gonna get y’all outta here.” He sought out Nell and tried to keep the worry from spilling out. She was alive. Luce was alive. Blanche was too. Where the smell of blood came thickest, he saw Bea. ...Maybe alive? “...Well alright,” he said carefully. He didn’t feel the need to reach for his knife but he eyed her warily. He took in a heavy breath before he looked at Blanche. “You got your car?”

Luce started breathing again soon after she began CPR, but not after Blanche heard the crack of Luce’s ribs. She was bent awkwardly over Luce, whispering to her not to move and that she was going to be okay. At some point, she had shrugged off her white jacket and handed it to Nell. “Arms. Wrap them as best you can. Please.” Before going back to make sure Luce was alright. Bea was fine - or, well, as fine as she could be, if a little disoriented. “Luce, it’s okay don’t worry. Don’t move. You can’t move yet.” Blanche whispered again, brushing her hair out of her face just as Winston began shouting Nic’s name. She almost forgot she texted him, but relief and hope hit her as she practically sprang to her feet. “Nic!” Blanche cried. “We need to get them to the - oh. My car? Yes. That way.” Blanche pointed down the slight path. “Not even 10 minutes, I pulled up as close as I could. But I can’t carry them myself. I think Nell can walk. Winston can, maybe. But Luce - I think she had a heart attack? And Bea - she’s confused. And - I need help. We need help. Please.” Blanche rushed through the facts as fast as possible, looking at the others in concern.

“Nic?” Nell’s confused voice pervaded the air, unable to make sense of where the hell he’d come from in the middle of all this chaos. Nevertheless, a way of utter relief slammed into her as he arrived, knowing that if Nic was here- everything would be okay. He’d proven more than once just how capable his hands were, and by now he had a way of making Nell fell calm, like everything was in control when he was around. The jacket that Blanche had given her to cover her arms was already soaked through only a few moments after she put it on, and everytime she so much as moved- the way the fabric brushed against her skinless arms just made the excruciating pain start anew. Thankfully, the peeling had finally stopped near the tops of her arms. “She’s okay?” Nell asked tentatively, scared of the answer that she might get. Which sister was she even talking about? Bea or Luce? Both. She needed to know that both were alright. Now that the initial panic amongst them had subsided, she looked to Bea, her heart stopping in her chest as her sister sat there, staring back with open eyes that were alive. “Bea?” she asked nervously. Had she come back right? Bea had said her name, hadn’t she? Both Nell’s and Luce’s. She knew them. That was a good sign, right? What was left of Nell’s magic began to try and stitch her arms back together, but instead of growing new skin, the tips of her hands simply scabbed, nothing more.

The world was swimming. It felt like Bea had just spun around in an office chair so many times she could count. It was enough to make her nauseous. Listing away from Winston, she heaved, nothing more than bile left her. She looked up to see Nic standing over her and Winston and squinted her eyes. “Brownies?” She slurred at the hunter, unable to think of anything meaningful to say to him. She had no idea why he or Winston was here, but she was very grateful to see them. She knew her and her sisters weren’t capable of taking care of themselves at this point. Her head lolled over to look at Nell, reaching a shaking hand out to her youngest sister. “Nellie,” She rasped again, trying to focus on the younger woman. “You’re… hurt.” It took more strength than Bea realized to be speaking. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. “We…” She took a deep breath before speaking again, eyes slipping closed as she tried to force words from her mouth. “... Need to go.” It wasn’t good for them to spend any more time in this circle. She could feel the grass around her already withering. They had to get somewhere less shrouded in death if they wanted to have any time to breathe.

Struggling to their feet, Winston turned to assess the situation. Honestly, everything hurt. Their head was swimming and they couldn’t think clearly. Everything was so hot. It hadn’t been this hot earlier and Winston pulled their jacket off and staggered over to their bag. Stuffing everything inside, they couldn’t help but notice that their phone was still being weird. But that was a problem for later and Winston had to make sure that everyone got out okay. Even if they felt terrible. Sweat had already drenched their clothes. Staggering back to Nell, Winston helped her to her feet without touching her skin. It looked, well it looked painful and Winston was pretty sure that was the second or third white jacket that Blanche was going to have to replace now. “I agree,” Winston pulled their inhaler out of their jeans and sucked down several puffs, “we need to get Luce and Nell to a hospital and Bea too really.” Winston wasn’t sure how they were going to explain this. “Nic, I don’t think Luce can walk, I don’t know about Bea either… do you think you could,” Winston gestured awkwardly at them before miming at lifting motion, “y’know?”

The hardened edge that had settled over Nicodemus’s face softened by a fraction when Nell spoke to him. “It’s me, kid. I gotcha,” he said as he looked at the red jacket that covered her arms. At her question, he glanced over to her sisters. Far as he could tell, they were, but he had a sneaking suspicion that would fade the longer they lingered. He swallowed down the feeling in his throat and nodded at Winston. “Yup, gonna get y’all there.” How he had come to be the safety net and wrangler of a bunch of magical younglings, he didn’t know. It didn’t bother him in the slightest. With apprehension, he looked at Bea and for a moment didn’t breathe. Brownies. Well, at least it wasn’t a knife. Slowly, he nodded at her. “Didn’t have time to put the fuckin’ oven on,” he muttered dryly as he shrugged off his top layer and threw it around her. “Gonna need you to get on my back here in a second, Bea. Gonna get Luce and then we’re goin’.” The middle sister’s breath was faint but her heart was still in it. The hunter could feel it as he looped an arm under her shoulder and the other under her legs. He walked back over to Bea, Luce in arms, and crouched. “Ain’t gonna drop you. Just hold on as best you can, alright?” As soon as she was on and secured, they could get gone from whatever the fuck had transpired.

“Be careful. Her ribs,” Blanche said quietly to Nic has he scooped Luce up in his arms. “Please. I - she - CPR.” It was the only explanation she could manage to get out. At least she was breathing. At least it didn’t take her long to start breathing again. At least Luce was alive. She looked between Bea and Nell, almost guiltily as he Nic crouched to Bea could climb on. God, Bea was confused, but lucid enough to know that they had to get out of here and that Nell was hurt. That was a good sign. Or, she hoped it was a good sign. She didn’t actually know.  Blanche looked at her one stark white jacket now stained red from Nell’s arms. Bile rose in her throat and she coughed once - twice - no. Not now. Blanche swallowed it back, shaking her head as she inched closer to Nell and Winston. “Do either of you need help?” Blanche asked quietly. She could help the both of them, if they needed it. Nic would take care of Bea and Luce and they would all get to the care and it would be fine. They just needed to get to her fucking Jeep.

The hospital? Even now Nell’s stomach turned nervously at the word, that place always making her anxious. But Nisa wasn’t here, and even if their mother had been- she wouldn’t be able to see them all at once. And something was very wrong with Luce. Why had she just collapsed like that? As Bea touched her, Nell half expected that same, clammy touch she’d felt when she’d picked up Bea’s body from the god forsaken death site in the woods to take her to Nic. When she’d first died. But there it was thrumming away underneath Bea’s skin, and though her sister’s jostling hurt, she wouldn’t have traded the feeling of Bea’s hand for anything in that moment. “You’re- you’re here.” Again, it seemed that everything she’d been keeping carefully locked up these last few weeks were surging forwards, and something about Bea caring that Nell was hurt caused more tears to fall down her cheeks. Her sister was alive, breathing, and could care again. A true reunion would have to wait when everyone needed medical attention, but Nell was already yearning for it. “Thank you,” she said to Winston as she tested her feet, somewhat unsteady, but able to walk despite the burning of her injuries. “I can walk. Let’s go.” They needed to get Luce and Bea to the hospital, to actual help. Ever so slowly, her arms were beginning to magically scab over, leaving a rough trail up to the middle of her forearms. Still no new flesh to be told of, though.

Her eyes were finally beginning to adjust and Bea recognized that she was meant to do something now. She didn’t want to stop looking over Nell, but Luce was dying and the littlest Vural was bleeding so much Bea wasn’t sure how she could be standing. She pulled herself onto Nic, grimacing as she realized she was still covered in blood. “Thank you,” She told him softly. Fragments of memories were starting to flow through her. Find someone willing to take care of me. She didn’t know who she said those words to, but something told her that Nic was this person. Her eyes trailed back to Luce, fierce now, she was not allowed to die. She wasn’t even allowed to think about dying. Bea would personally bring her back to scream at her for dying. Even if it would have been Bea’s fault for asking for this. She wanted to lay her head down and fall asleep, but the necromancer forced her eyes to stay open. She could not fall asleep when her sister was on death’s doorway.

Winston’s head was swimming. A dull throb rang over and over and over and over again. But they kept plodding onwards. Sweat pouring down their back. It was so goddamn hot. They took another step. The grass golding beneath the soles of their shoes. Then another step. Then another. They could feel the energy surging within them and Winston knew that something was wrong. They stopped dead in their tracks. The group continued around them. Their breath quickened. Their heart was racing. Their blood pulsed. It felt like it was boiling within them. Why were they so hot? Everyone was a few feet away. It struck them, a groan in their stomach, a bead of sweat trickled down their face and suddenly they couldn’t help themselves. A moan of pain erupted from their stomach and as Winston opened their mouth to make a sound, a roiling wave of fire exploded from their mouth. They did their best to point it towards the sky, and avoid burning anyone. It lasted for a few seconds maybe, but it left Winston doubled over and curled up in the grass. “Oh, fuck, I don’t feel so good,” they groaned.

The hunter was careful not to jostle the two Vural sisters as he walked. They needed to get away from the clearing. Away from the body and the blood and whatever else. Nicodemus paused as Winston groaned and immediately, his eyes shot over to them. Shit. It wasn’t likely that he could bundle them up on top of the two he already carried. And then Winston spat fire. He blinked. Alright. What the fuck was happening to all of them? “...Get ‘em up,” he said to Blanche, not too unkindly. Each minute they lingered, the worry kicked up in his pulse. What good would it be if they all died out in the fucking field? Nah, he was tired of people dying and he reckoned the lot of them were too. “Please. We gotta get. We gotta get ‘em all--” He didn’t finish as he started up again, quicker but no less careful, towards Blanche’s jeep. His eyes narrowed as a storm of thoughts clouded his head. He could sort it out later. As the rest grew closer to the jeep, he spoke up again. Something told him it was necessary. Especially after whatever the hell she might’ve seen and he carried the aftermath of. “Blanche, when we get ‘em all in, let me have your keys. You ain’t drivin’.”

Fuck, Winston just breathed fire. Blanche sprang back from them with a low shriek, staring at them, aghast. “What - “ But there was no time. Nic told her to grab them, pull them up, and she listened. Blanche hadn’t liked the feeling of this place since Bea had shown it to them weeks before, but now the feeling of death and despair clung to the air, making it thick and suffocating. She pulled Winston to their feet, careful to help them walk.  The walk to the Jeep wasn’t terrible. Blanche was hyper focused on it: Get everyone there, get everyone to the hospital, make sure everyone was okay. “Luce and Bea - lay them in the trunk. Nell and Winston can have the back. By the windows.” As the black jeep came into sight, she almost started crying in relief, and she almost missed what Nic said. The car unlocked and she was already shuffling Winston into the back seat and rounding the body of the car to open the door for Nell. “What?” She stared at Nic. “I -” She what? Blanche realized how sick she felt right then. She silently held out her pink lanyard once Luce and Bea were settled, before going to sit in the passenger side. They were going to be okay. They were going to get to the hospital, and then everything would be all better.

The sound of a steady electrical beeping. Repetitive, droning. Over and over. That was what first filtered in through the darkness. Then, pain. Sharp surface level pain, stinging and fierce. And underneath it, there was a dull, heavy weight that pressed down upon her chest. With a low groan, Luce forced her tired eyes to open. A sterile white room greeted her, bright fluorescents blinding and she shut her eyes immediately. Pillows, she could feel them behind her head, and sheets oddly warm against her skin. Her chest, her chest ached. Gritting her teeth, Luce willed herself to power through the fatigue that pressed down upon her body. She opened her eyes once more, glancing around the room. She wasn’t alone-- there was another bed next to hers. Someone else lay in it. Her eyes struggled to focus, the image a blur. Finally, she realized it was Nell-- her arms wrapped up in bandages, the edges stained pink. Letting out a shaky sigh, she shifted her gaze to the chairs around the room. Four people. One small, blonde hair streaked with bits of pink. Blanche. And another, a burly man. Who was he..? The thought was pushed from her mind as she saw Winston, their face slick and shining under the bright lights.

With all the energy she could muster, Luce tilted her head to look at the last person. Familiar long tresses of dark hair, dark eyes staring back at her… “Bea.” She managed, a hint of a smile on her face. That was all the strength she could muster, her body still aching and exhausted. Her head fell back on the pillows, her eyes closing once more. A comforting blanket of weariness pressed down upon her, dragging her once more into the darkness. A sense of relief washed over her, more soothing than the promise of sleep. Bea. She was back. Nell was safe. Winston was here, Blanche as well. Her family was whole.

[athenaquinn]

A First Ink-counter || Luce & Athena

TIMING: July 13th  LOCATION: Ink Inc.  PARTIES: @divineluce and @athenaquinn SUMMARY: Athena decides to get an important tattoo. Luce provides much needed refreshing conversation.

Her parents didn’t have to know about everything she did. Certainly they didn’t know about her fake ID and maybe one other thing, and so they didn’t have to know about this, either. Athena wasn’t planning on letting them see what she was getting anyhow. If her brother refused to come home, she’d make sure that he didn’t entirely break away from her. She hadn’t been apart from him for more than a few hours throughout their entire life, and so perhaps a tattoo of the constellation with his namesake would do the trick. She had a picture printed and folded neatly in her purse and enough money to pay in cash, unless the tattoo came out to over a thousand dollars. But what she was asking for was small, and so she figured it wouldn’t cost too much. Better to not leave a paper trail though, she knew her parents well enough for that. She pushed open the door to the shop and took in a deep breath before going up to the receptionist. “Hello. I have an appointment with Luce, I believe?” She gave a small tug at the edge of her shirt. She knew that in her white shorts, nearly new Converse, and pastel purple shirt she didn’t exactly look like she belonged in a tattoo parlor, but this was important to her, and after all, she was far tougher than she looked. Besides, anybody could get tattoos. To assume only one sort of person could probably wasn’t the best viewpoint to begin all of this with, but she had to be quick to judge in most situations. She sat down in a chair in the waiting area and pulled out her phone, only looking up when she heard someone else come into the room.

Taking a sip from her coffee cup, Luce glanced at the clock on her laptop and let out a quiet swear. Fuck. She had an appointment. After spending the last few weeks not coming into work, it was weird getting back into the swing of things. But, she had bills to pay-- big fucking bills from the extended stay in the hospital. So she needed all the appointments she could get. Adjusting her ponytail, Luce hurried out to the main lobby. Looking around the shop, she saw a young woman sitting down in the waiting area and approached her with an extended hand. “Athena, right? I think we talked a while ago about tattoos. I was surprised to see the booking-- in a good way.” She said with an easy grin she often used with clients, meant to set their mind at ease and help calm them down a bit. “C’mon back. I’ve got the design drafted up for you and we can see how you like it.” She said, escorting the girl into her room of the shop. “This is gonna be your first tattoo, right?”

When the woman stepped out and called her name, Athena shook her head for a moment, before nodding. “Yes! I remember now!” She took in Luce’s look, before looking back down at her lap. “Can’t say I knew how to dress for this occasion, but hey, doesn’t look like you’d kick me out for this, right?” She stood up, brushing her hands against her shorts and began to follow Luce to the back room. “Yes please, I think reviewing things can often be helpful!” Was her voice a bit too forced? Probably, but she wanted to make a good first impression, especially since this was important to her, and for all that she had no personal experience with tattoos, she did at least know that they were permanent and when having someone put something permanent on your body, being on their good side was the way to go. At Luce’s question, she offered her a small smile and gave a shrug, “that it is - though I can’t imagine what would’ve given that away.” She moved so that she was standing next to Luce. “I’d love to see what you have drawn up. I know it’s a fairly simple design, but hey, at least it’s not a simple wave, right?”

“Hey, we get all kinds of people in here. I’ve had people roll up in sweat pants and other folks who came in full business suits. Besides, if any of us gave a shit about what people thought about our appearances, we’re be in the wrong business.” Luce laughed as she gestured to the seat in the middle of the room. It had been awhile since she’d been back in, but her room was just as clean and organized as always. She needed to update some of her designs on the pinboard, but that was a continual work in progress. “Since it was a pretty simple one, I drew up a couple. Had a lot of time on my hands to really make this pop.” She said and pulled up the three different designs she’d made. One of them featured dotted lines connecting the entirety of the constellation, another had a backdrop of watercolors behind it, and the final was a very minimalist take on the constellation, with only the bow connected. “Eh, everyone starts out a virgin. In my experience, most people who get their first tattoo come back and get a second one in about a year. Once you’ve got the bug…” She shrugged and gestured to the dark sleeves on her arms. “So, what do you think of these?”

“That’s fair. Though the image of some of the businesspeople I’ve seen around town in here is one that doesn’t quite compute.” Athena gave another shrug, “but that’s totally true, it’s just still nice to see. Doesn’t always happen.” She sat down on the seat that Luce had pointed out and twirled the ends of her hair around her fingertips. How odd it was to be nervous about something like this and yet be willing to run and fight any sort of creature in a second. “I appreciate the dedication that you’ve already put into this. She looked at the different design choices, taking her time to take in the drawings. “You’re a great artist, I’m glad I was able to book you.” She dropped her hair from her hands and looked up at Luce. “I think I like the one with the little dots in between everything. It feels like just enough, but not too much - not that the one with the colors is bad at all, I just don’t necessarily want to be overly flashy right now.” Athena nodded, “well, that much is true. Can’t say I plan on getting more as of now, but hey, sometimes I surprise myself.” She bit her lip. “So, should I lie down? Sorry, as I said, I’m new to all this. Just tell me what to do.”

“Eh, sometimes they’re people who are just passing through. Don’t judge a book by its cover and shit, you know?” Luce said as she let Athena look over the different designs. It really wasn’t a big deal. The design was super minimalist to begin with so it was easy for her to come up with a few different ideas off the top of her head. Besides, she didn’t think the tattoo would take much longer than a half hour. “Thanks. I do good work.” She nodded at Athena’s choice. “Sounds like a good call to me. Nothing wrong with colors, but I personally prefer black and white myself.” She gestured to her own arms once more. “You can hang out for a second-- Gotta print a stencil. Then, we’ll figure out placement, that might take a couple tries to get it situated. And then we’ll get started on it. You mentioned in the booking you wanted it on your ribs, right?” She asked as the stencil was printed out.

“Of course.” Athena nodded. “Well, if it’s good business for you all then I am glad you are able to have it.” She continued to listen to the other woman, “yes, I don’t want anything too flashy - at least not for a tattoo.” Not when it was as special as this one was. Besides, it wasn’t like her brother was flashy, and honoring him should be similar. Subtle, but well thought out. Or at least she hoped so. “Of course, and yes! I see that!” She glanced down at Luce’s tattoos. “Well, you pull it off well. Can I ask, what made you interested in this? Both getting your own and having this as a profession? If I may ask, of course.” She nodded at Luce’s words. “I’ll stay right here, don’t worry about it!” She nodded, again perhaps with too much enthusiasm, but she didn’t think Luce would mind too much. “Sounds good - and yep! Sort of on the side of my ribs,” Athena pressed her hand against the outside of her shirt. “Though you know best, so once we get to the positioning, I’m open to advice.”

“Thanks.” Luce nodded in response as she looked over the stencils that had printed. One was slightly larger than the other-- one would cover most of the girl’s ribs, the other probably half. Then again, she was guesstimating. “How big we going?” She asked holding the two up for Athena to look over. “It’s totally your call on placement. At the end of the day, it’s your body, your tattoo. I can give you an idea of what would look good in my opinion, but you get the final say. That said,” She said “You’re also going to need to take off your shirt soon. Depending on how high up on your ribs you want it, I can give you pasties.” Luce said, no stranger to nudity when it came to her work. It was part of the job. Lots of girls wanted rib tattoos, or sternum tattoos. And more than a few guys wanted thigh tattoos for some fucking reason, which meant she’d been way too close to way more dicks than she ever wanted. Circling back to Athena’s question, Luce shrugged. “I was an art student at UMaine for a bit, but I dropped out after I got my first tattoo. Figured out that tattooing was more my speed and Ulf offered me an apprenticeship. Never really looked back after that.”

“Of course.” Athena bit her lip at Luce’s question. “I think the smaller. I like them both, and it’s not like this’ll always be super visible, but I think a bit smaller is more what I’m up for.” Smaller was more intimate, more connected - her brother was hardly one to make a big statement about anything, and if she was doing something in his honor, it should represent him, shouldn’t it? “I’d like advice on placement, but I think on the side of my ribs might be good. Up to hearing your thoughts on the matter. When in doubt or in experiencing something new, I’m of the belief to refer to the expert.” She gave a small shrug. “I sort of expected as much.” Luce was pretty, and she wasn’t fae at least, and if this was the way tattoos worked, it meant that she’d likely be able to hide it easily. She pulled her shirt over her head, brushing her hair over one shoulder as she looked over at Luce. “Oh, I’m at UMaine now - Senior come fall. Hey, I know someone else who’s going to trade school, I think that you should do what you want, and clearly you do a killer job here.” She offered the other girl a small smile. “Ulf’s the owner?”

“Sounds good to me on all counts.” Luce said as she tossed the other stencil in the trash and waited patiently for the girl to get herself situated. With an analytical eye, she mapped out the positioning with the space available, taking into account how the lines would draw the attention of the casual observer. “Yeah, you’d think more people would take that approach right? But, for some reason, people think they know better than me. Who cares about my experience, huh?” She said as she applied the stencil to the girl’s skin. “Hm. Check it out in the mirror and let me know what you think.” Luce said with a nod before leaning back against her desk. “Thanks. And yeah, Ulfric. He’s a good dude. Owns the shop, gave an apprenticeship, does tattoos too.” She said with a nod.

“I’m glad.” Athena kept glancing over to Luce, trying to take in the entire room, It was a natural habit that she’d had for as long as she could remember. Survey the scene, make sure you know what you can use in case you run into trouble. It was why she’d survived that werewolf attack on her and her brother’s eighteenth birthday. Quick thinking and a knowledge of what was around her. “You’d think, but people are idiots a lot of the time.” She rolled her eyes and let the woman place the stencil against her skin. “You don’t have to worry about me thinking I know better than you. I’m decent at interior design, but I’m not super great at other forms of art, but hey, we can’t all have it all, right?” She held onto the stencil and hopped off of her seat and went over to the mirror. It looked good - situated just on her ribs. She hadn’t had an exact placement in mind, just within a certain area - and this fit the bill. Good enough to keep hidden even in the couple crop tops she owned, and personal, private. Nodding at Luce’s comments, she turned to walk back over. “Seems like a nice combo of things to have and be. By the way, placement’s perfect. Just tell me what to do next. I can pull my hair into a ponytail if need be, I know it’s a bit long.”

“If that isn’t a fucking mood.” Luce laughed and grinned. “Glad to hear it. That kind of thinking will get you far in life. Sometimes it pays to watch and learn and let the professionals do what’s best. I mean, like… from a learning perspective.” She said as she prepped her tray of tools, grabbing fresh gloves and supplies from her rolling toolkit. “And hey, who knows. With practice, you could get better. No harm in trying, right?” She said as she gestured to the chair. “I think your hair should be fine. If you could lie down on your other side, we’ll get this thing started.” She said, snapping on the gloves with a smile. “A constellation, though, huh? Any particular meaning behind it?”

“Such a mood,” Athena grinned. “Right - I mean, I want to be a doctor. It’s a pretty huge yikes if I don’t listen to what others want to teach me. Especially given that I might want to do surgery. No amount of books will teach me that - I need to learn from those who understand the field. I have respect for those who know more than I do.” She gave a shrug at Luce’s next comment. “Very true. I think trying is always of use. Maybe I’ll go pick up a sketch pad sometime soon, we’ll see.” Athena nodded at Luce’s request. “Alright, I’ve got scrunchies and hair ties just in case.” She moved to lie down on the opposite side and bit her lip at Luce’s question. Saying yeah, it’s for my twin brother who sort of might hate me but who is my other half might not fly so well. “I’ve got a friend who meant a lot to me who was super into astronomy. Plus, there’s sadly no Athena-specific constellation, and so this one suits me well.”

“A surgeon? Smart girl. That’s pretty cool.” Luce replied as the machine in her hand began to buzz. “Alright, let’s get this thing started. If you need to take a break or something, just let me know.” It was a small tattoo, with hardly enough detail to warrant all that much time to get what Athena wanted, but you could never be too careful tattooing virgins. She’d had a girl pass out on her once while doing the tiniest fucking scribble of her life. As the tattoo machine buzzed in her hand, Luce continued to talk while she worked, “Ah, that’s cool. I don’t know much about astronomy, so I wouldn’t know if there was one or not. This is the hunter guy, right? Orion?” She asked.

“I like to think I am at least sort of smart. Thank you.” Athena took in a careful breath as Luce began the tattooing process. At least the scars on her body were faint and primarily on her legs.”I’ll be sure to let you know, but I played field hockey in high school. I doubt this’ll hurt more than any of that did.” She did her best to stay as still as possible. “I’m hardly an expert myself, but well, when you have the sort of name I do, you kinda have to know at least some other Greek mythology, and by default you get thrown into astronomy. Especially when you’re like me and sometimes just read textbooks for fun. Or if you get too caught up in curiosity.” She took in another deep breath as Luce continued, the buzzing on her ribs feeling stranger more than anything else. “Yes. One of them. Placed into the stars by Artemis in some stories of mythology.”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short. You thinking about med school soon? What with senior year rolling up and stuff?” Luce asked as she continued to follow the stencil. It was a pretty easy tattoo and hey, at least she was getting paid. Field hockey. Weird fucking sport, considering it was a rough and tumble kind of deal and yet all the girls had to wear skirts and shit. Not that she’d ever minded. She’d been with a few different field hockey girls before. “Makes sense. The default Greek myth stuff. Can’t relate to the textbook thing, though. I’m not big on books.” She said as she dipped the tip of the machine into the ink once more. “Artemis…” Luce nodded, “That’s the moon lady, right? I did a tattoo of her a while back-- something with her like, turning a dude into a deer and making his dogs eat him? The lady who wanted it was metal as hell. Turned out to be a cool tattoo.”

“Yep! Planning on taking the MCAT and applying this year. We’ll see where I end up.” Athena continued. “At present, I’m interested in otolaryngology, immunology, or medical genetics, but I suppose I’ll have to see.” She felt her cheeks grow a bit warm - it wasn’t even as though the other girl was giving her any sort of big complement, but there was something incredibly satisfying about having someone who was a mostly stranger still compliment her. “Yeah? I think Greek myths can be super neat - an interesting way of understanding the way they understood the world. Oh? Well, hey, not everyone is. I’ve got a -” she scrunched up her nose, not wanting to bring up Ariana, not really properly knowing what she was, “I know someone else who’s not big on reading, but they’re into audiobooks.” She glanced down at the tattoo as it was forming under Luce’s steady hands, “Yes, she is the moon lady,” something I wonder if I would’ve been named after her in another life, “oh? That’s super interesting! You really do get all sorts of fascinating tattoos around here, don’t you?”

“Dope. Good luck with all of that. Sounds like you’ve got a lotta cool shit in your future.” Luce said, the specific fields that the girl rattled off going right over her head. She’d gotten through high school with a solid C grade and lasted 8 weeks in college before dropping out-- medical shit, outside of tattoo aftercare and specifics on how to avoid blood poisoning were completely out of her wheelhouse. Which suited Luce just fine. Let doctor people do doctor stuff, she’d stay in her lane with her art. “Yeah, myths and stuff like that are pretty cool. A lot of art draws from greek myth so I’ve studied some of it, but eh. That was a while ago. I’m not exactly interested in being the next Raphael.” She said as she wiped away some droplets of ink with a paper towel. “Around here? Depends on the day, but I’ve got a few cool ones under my belt.” She tilted her head to one of the framed art pieces on the wall, an intricately woven black and white mandala that featured motifs of flowers, circles, and other geometric shapes. “That’s my preferred style. I had a client who came in, didn’t know what he wanted, saw that, and had me turn it into a stencil. Got it done on his calf then and there. It was pretty cool.”

“Thank you.” It was nice, how easy it was to talk with Luce. Athena had never been someone who found talking to others difficult (heck, she’d been the one to initiate conversations for others, even), but it was still nice to fall into a balanced conversation with strangers. Especially ones that at least seemed human, for all intents and purposes. “Eh, being the next Raphael is overrated anyhow. He’s neat, he made some great art, but trying to be him? Overrated.” She grinned at Luce, before following her gaze. “That’s amazing!! Sorry to have mine be a bit boring, but it’s just something I’ve thought about for a while, and for all that I can sometimes be bright and bold, I also appreciate simplicity. Hence the sort of minimalist tattoo.” She glanced down at Luce’s work. “Thanks for being so careful. I was sort of nervous this was going to hurt more than it has been. But again, maybe all the sports prepared me for this. What’s a tattoo compared to an elbow in the ribs?”

“Oh, big mood. I’m not exactly interested in being some repressed painter. And besides, portraits and sculpting aren’t my thing anyways.” Luce said as she wiped the tattoo clean. It was such a simple design, it really wasn’t going to take much longer. Leaning back, she took a look at her handiwork with a critical eye. It was exactly what Athena had requested, so hopefully it would go over well. “It was a fun time. And hey, it’s meaningful to you and that’s what matters. Doesn’t matter if it’s minimalist or something more intricate. Art’s art.” She replied. “I’ve got a light hand, which helps for this sort of thing. But yeah, you’ve been taking it like a champ.” Luce said with a grin of reassurance.

“Right? That’s so fifteenth century.” Athena grinned. “I think it’s good to know about all sorts of art. It’s wonderful how skilled you are.” She glanced over to Luce again, watching the woman as she stepped back and began examining the tattoo. Athena glanced down at it. “Well, from what I can see, it looks better than I expected, so I think this is a win. Thank you - you do have a wonderful and steady hand for this, and I appreciate the endorsement. Means a lot.”

“Exactly. I’m a modern gal, I’m not about that old shit.” Luce smiled in return before shrugging. “A lot of people say that tattooing isn’t art. Those people are wrong, it’s an art, it’s just a different kind. Which is why I look into other stuff outside of just tattooing. Acrylic painting, oils, charcoals, stuff like that.” She said before putting a small wrap over the tattoo. “No worries, I’m glad you like it. It’s always nice to do something that people appreciate, you know?” She said before grabbing one of the aftercare kits from her work station. “There’s a little hand out in there that has information for you to look back on, but keep the wrap on, wash it with unscented soap every couple hours, and no baths, pools, or hot tubs for two weeks until it’s healed. Other than that…” Luce peeled off her gloves and tossed them in the trash before offering her hand to Athena. “I think it turned out really well.”

“I can appreciate history but I don’t want to be like that, right?” Athena gave a small shrug. “Same class of people who say cheerleading and dance aren’t sports. I never did them, but they are valid sports.” She allowed Luce to wrap up her tattoo and flashed her another grin. “I agree. It’s best when someone’s able to appreciate what you do, and I know I super appreciate this.” She glanced down at it. A way to have a part of the most important person in her life next to her always. With her, always. “Thanks!” Athena grabbed the kit and nodded along to Luce’s description. “I’ll be careful and so long as I can still shower, I’m all good.” She grabbed Luce’s hand, pleasantly surprised at the lack of rash the silver rings caused against her now bare skin. “I agree. Should I decide to go wild and get another, I know which gal to call.”

“Right? Ah well, fuck what people think, you know? Sometimes you just gotta do what you want. Who cares what other people think?” Luce said with a nod, though she knew it was easier said than done. She’d lived by that motto for a long time, but… there were times when it would have been simpler to just go along with what other people wanted. Pushing the thought from her mind, Luce gave a thumbs up. “Yeah, definitely shower, just be gentle when you’re cleaning it. The print out has everything you’ll need and feel free to call the shop if you ever have any questions.” At the young woman’s firm handshake, Luce smiled in response. “For sure, for sure. But yeah, great working with you. They’ll ring you up at the front. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” She said with a wink as she began to clean up her work station. She remembered being like that, getting her first tattoo and then coming back for more. Ariana was that way, Luce mused, thinking about the tattoos the girl sported. Maybe she’d see more of the both of them in the future.

[a-bugz-life]

Why Don’t We Get Drunk and Screw || Anita & Luce

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professoranieves​ and @divineluce SUMMARY: Anita shows up at Luce’s with a bottle of tequila, Luce has whiskey. Neither woman is at all distracted by thoughts of another lover.  CONTENT WARNINGS: NSFW (Kissing, Touching, Sex mentions)

Anita wasn’t sure why she was so comfortable going back to Luce more than once. It was different with her than it was with Marley. With Luce it was exactly what it was - emotionless fun. Maybe that’s why she found herself pulling up to her cabin with a bottle of liquor in tow, because she needed something that wasn’t complicated right now. She walked up to the front door, straightened out her shirt a bit, then knocked three times, not sure how the evening was going to go, but fairly certain she was going to enjoy it. “Hey,” She said with a warm grin when she saw the door swing open.

Frowning at the book she’d borrowed from Orion, Luce muddled through the words. Possession, prior instances of ghosts… hosts… None of this made any sense to her but-- the knock at her door jolted her out of her focus and she blinked in surprise. Shit-- Anita. Shoving the book into the drawer of her bedside table, Luce hurried over to the mirror to do a once over. The black choker rested snuggly against her throat, covering the thick scar across her neck which was all that she really cared about. “Hey yourself.” She said with a grin, glancing down at the bottle of liquor. “Mhm, I see you held up your end of the bargain.” Luce moved out of the way, letting Anita come inside. “You feeling like a tequila or whiskey first?” She asked as she grabbed the half empty bottle of Glenlivet and two glasses.

Anita smiled as she walked into Luce’s cabin, “I always make good on my promises.” The isolation of Luce’s place was really blissful. While Anita didn’t live in the woods, living on the edge of Dark Score had its fair share of isolation. “You know what, let’s start with whiskey this time.” It was nice that there didn’t need to be a ton of pretense when she was with Luce. They knew what they were there for. Even though Anita prefaced this meet-up as ‘catching up’ with each other, they clearly both knew what that really meant. “This must be the good stuff if you’ve blown through half a bottle already, huh?”

“I can’t say I mind that.” Luce said with a smile, though her thoughts were drifting back to a certain other someone who hadn’t held up their end of the bargain. Who hadn’t kept up with their agreement. At Anita’s words, Luce nodded, already pouring out a healthy amount of whiskey into one of the glasses before pausing. “On the rocks or neat?” She asked, tilting her head over to the fridge in the kitchen. “I might be out in the middle of nowhere, but I’ve got pretty much everything you could want.” She said as she leaned against the counter of her kitchen. “Mhm, yes and no. I’ve had this one for a while. I save it for special occasions. And women of taste.” Luce said with an easy wink.

“Neat.” Anita replied, not feeling the need to add that she’d never choose something cold since she’s already cold all the time. “Oh I’m out in the middle of nowhere too.” It was at that moment that she realized that she had never invited Luce over to her place. “If you don’t mind being near Dark Score Lake, we should do this at my place next time.” It was abnormal for Anita to plan ahead like that with women, but if she kept seeing more than just Marley regularly then it didn’t  mean anything big that she kept going back to the same person again and again. “Well I’m flattered to fall into that category. That’s high praise coming from you.” Anita picked up the glass of liquor, and moved a bit closer to where Luce was and leaned against the same counter. “Especially since I’m sure you have your fair share of options when it comes to women of taste.”

Pouring out another whiskey, Luce threw two ice cubes in for herself before handing the original glass to Anita. “Cheers.” She said, before taking a sip, savoring the dark flavor and warmth. “Dark Score? I haven’t been to the lake in years. I’m not much of a swimmer.” She said, glass dangling from her hand as she spoke. As Anita slid closer to her, she shifted slightly so their arms were touching, warmth radiating from her body.“But yeah, I’d be down for that. After all, you’ve seen mine, it’s only fair to show me yours.” Luce said with a wry laugh. At Anita’s comment, she shrugged. “Credit where credit’s due, you know? I call ‘em like I see ‘em.” She said, letting her eyes travel slowly up and down the other woman’s form. “And I like what I see.”

As much as Anita avoided getting close to people, the kind of close with Luce was what she could handle. Fully flirty, little to no deep conversation, and a whole lot of fun. “Well, not to be too presumptuous, but I don’t think we’d actually be spending much time at the lake if you came over.” A warm grin formed across her lips as she brought the glass of whiskey up to her mouth and took a long slow sip. There was a small part of her that wondered if she should ask her about her day, about what she had been up to recently. But maybe she had just been spending too much time with Marley recently. “That’s definitely a mutual feeling. Cause I really like what I’m seeing too.” Anita moved herself closer towards Luce, taking the opportunity to lean in close and whisper in her ear, “Though I do think  I prefer when there are less clothes involved.”

“You know, that’s a very fair assumption.” Luce said with a wry grin, “I can think of quite a few things we could get up to.” She took another drink from her glass, watching the other room over the rim. Anita was so fucking hot and, past experience said she was more than talented in bed. Which was all Luce wanted right now. Glancing down at the counter top, she noticed the seam in the wooden counter, a scar from when she had brought Remmy here and a Torple had attacked the cabin. That had been the first time they’d-- “What, you don’t like my outfit?” She teased, leaning in to kiss Anita’s neck, nipping lightly before pulling away. Luce slid back from the counter, glass in hand before tilting her head to the bedroom. “You coming?” She arched an eyebrow with a smirk. She would be soon.

Anita grinned widely as Luce made her way towards the bedroom. This was exactly the type of distraction that she needed. Just passion and heat and nothing more. And as far as distractions went, Luce was an absolutely perfect one. She knew exactly what to do to drive Anita crazy and drive her into a puddle of pleasure. So when Luce asked, Anita followed her into the room.

The hours seemed to fly by, as they always did when Anita spent time with Luce. As Anita finally fell back into the sheets, every inch of her body tingled with satisfaction. Well, almost every inch.  There was a strange feeling in her chest she couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t a feeling that she was used to and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what was different about tonight from the other nights. “You really know how to wear a girl out.” She said, somewhat breathlessly as she looked over at Luce.

This little arrangement between the two of them, quippy conversation over a few drinks followed by them falling into bed, pleasure making the time pass far quicker than it had any right to. She knew what made Anita tick, liked seeing the way the other woman unravelled beneath her, enjoyed it all. As Luce slid next to Anita, her skin burning hot like it always was, a restlessness lingered within her. She’d felt it before, with other women, other people. The night after her trip to the carnival, for one. And a few nights after the one she’d spent staring into the darkness of Candleton Cemetery, when she’d hooked up with some random woman at Soul. At the other woman’s words, Luce let an easy smile spread across her face. “What can I say? I aim to please.” She winked before stretching, the sheets cool against her skin. “You know how to treat a girl right yourself.”

“Well, I do try my best.” Anita replied, grinning over at her. After laying there for a moment, fully enjoying the remnants of heat that they had made together, she rolled over and slowly climbed out of Luce’s bed. The best thing about what the two of them did was that there was never any pretense, they didn’t need to put on a show for the other because they were on the same page with what this was. Casual sex. Gathering her clothes that had been hastily thrown about the room, there was some strange feeling tugging at her. Like with most feelings she got, she decided to just shove it down and ignore it. “So, my place next time, yeah?” There was a small hesitation in her voice, and even she wasn’t exactly sure where it came from. So she tried to cover it with a smirk as she turned towards Luce, still half naked.

As Anita rose from the bed, Luce glanced over at the bookshelf of her bedroom, at the books she’d borrowed from the Scribrary. After her chat with Ariana-- Megan now, she supposed-- she’d realized that maybe she’d been onto something with whatever the fuck was going on with Nadia. There were things she needed to look up regarding possession and ghosts, and what happened to the people who had been possessed before. Anita’s words caught her attention and Luce blinked. What the fuck-- she’d literally just had a gorgeous woman in her bed and here she was, thinking about reading? Christ. “Uh. Yeah, for sure.” She said, before realizing that hardly sounded enthusiastic. This was good. The sex had been great and it came with zero strings attached. Unlike Remmy. She couldn’t give them what they wanted and she wasn’t interested in being like that. Never had been, never would be. “After tonight? Definitely.”

Anita thought she recognized the tone in Luce’s voice. A tone of voice that she had used before, many times, when women she was only half interested in asked to see each other again. Maybe it was just a reaction to her own tone in the original question. Maybe she was just a little hungover. “We can just play it by ear.” She added as she pulled on the remainder of her clothes. “Not like we ever really were big on the whole planning thing, anyway.” That was the good thing about this, wasn’t it? It was unplanned and it wasn’t complicated and it didn’t make her stay up for hours thinking about what each small glance meant like being with Marley did. They were good together in that they weren’t together. They were just there to exploit a physical need. “But you know me …” Anita made her way back to the bed, and sat down beside where she was lying. She leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Luce’s lips. “I’m always down for more of this.”

“Playing it by ear sounds good to me. Besides, I like to keep you on your toes.” Luce replied smoothly, her typical flirtatious tone returning as she schooled her expression into one that was more casual, less distracted. And while she might look as though she was focused on Anita, her mind was buzzing with frustrating thoughts. Wondering about Nadia, her whole… situation, what it could mean. And Remmy, poor fucking Remmy. Caught in the explosion and the crossfire of what had happened at the Ring. Adam too, but he was a Hunter. Didn’t mean he wasn’t just as fucked up by what she’d done, but, she should have known better about Remmy. She knew what they’d been through in the army, knew that they’d worked in explosives. The second she’d found out they would be there, she should have called Erin and said she couldn’t help her destroy the Ring, at least, not that night. But… what’s done was done.

When Anita leaned over her, lips brushing against her own, it caught Luce off guard for a moment. Fucks sake. She needed to get her head on straight. Well, she mused as she processed the other woman’s words, not too straight. “Mmm, glad we’re on the same page.” She said before rising from the bed, not bothering with modesty. She lived in the middle of the woods, who the fuck would see her? Luce walked Anita to the door and pulled the woman in for a harder kiss before backing away with a wink. “Something to tide you over until the next time.”

Anita grinned as she watched Luce climb out of bed, taking a moment to let her eyes wander over her body. A little incentive to make her come back around. Sure, lately when she needed a little late night pick-me-up she called Marley, but Luce had a way of making her forget about all the complicated shit that was going on there. For a moment anyway. “Same sentence, of the same page, of the same book.” As she made her way to the door, she couldn’t help but feel an aching emptiness hit her. She shook it off, focusing back on Luce when she pulled her in for another kiss. She let it linger, relishing in the warmth of her skin for one last moment. “That’s not gonna last me long.” She shot back with a smirk, “I’ll see you around, Luce.”

[streetharmacist]

Lift Your Spirits | Luce & Felix

Time: June 12, evening. Summary: “The closest bonds we will ever know are bonds of grief. The deepest community one of sorrow.” - Cormac McCarthy Warnings: Drug use, Sibling death, Grief With: @divineluce

Signalling to the dealer that she was cashing out, Luce finished off the last of her whiskey. She’d made a killing tonight and she hadn’t even bothered to be subtle about it. She had a sneaking suspicion it might have something to do with the time she and Mina had been here. Even drunk out of her mind, she’d realized something had been weird with the pitboss after they’d had words with them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why. All she knew was, whenever she looked at the balding pitboss, he’d been staring at her in a nervous, almost forced way. Setting the glass on the edge of the table, she sighed. Whatever. Not her problem. Taking the small stack of bills, Luce slid a twenty across the table to the dealer before heading to the bar. The night was young enough, which meant she wanted to get fucked up. Possibly fucked, but… Nadia had called her out on lying last time, which wasn’t something she wanted to deal with right now. And Remmy, they were a fucking mess. She didn’t want to make things worse by hitting them up right now. So, drinks it was. She leaned against the wooden bartop and signalled the bartender, “An old fashioned, please. Mmm. Make it a double.” She said as she took a seat.

Not even the smokiest corner of the Stacked Deck could conceal how the change in Felix’s mood overshadowed the table. The internet had made things much easier to fake. With cards in hand and an empty seat next to him, there would be no such thing. The smiles and banter that usually wafted across the scratched wood were suspiciously quiet. He called when he needed to and relied on the mirrors of his faintly cracked glasses to make the men across from him uncomfortable. It brought him a little joy to see them squirm, but it was inconsequential. He treated the game like a small bloodletting. Collecting droplets as he went and when he felt a slight modicum of satisfaction at his earnings, he cashed out. The annoyed grunts of a table not too far away caught his attention as he stood up. Someone else had seemingly done their own killing that night. As he emerged from the heavy waves of cigar smoke, he was surprised to see who it was. Through core-deep melancholia came a slight smile. The fae wandered to the bar and made a home of the seat next to Luce. “You know me. Jameson neat. I don’t mind if you get a little heavy with it,” he called to the bartender before he glanced over at Luce. “Hiya Luce. Making friends or enemies?” He inclined his head toward the table she had cleaned out.

Resting her hands against the scarred surface of the bar, Luce glanced down at her arms. The bruise on her jaw had faded away, as had most of the marks against her skin. But, a few stubborn yellow patches remained, not entirely healed. She almost wished that they were fresh again, to remind her. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. As someone sat down next to her, bringing the heavy smell of cigar smoke with them, she was dimly aware of the fact they’d said her name. “Hm?” She looked over at the man next to her and froze. Felix. Fuck. Sitting there like some guy out of an old fashioned movie. Of all the gin joints and all that shit... Thankfully, her drink arrived and she took a moment to take a long sip before replying to him. “Bit of both, bit of both. Dealer wasn’t too happy, but the pitboss didn’t seem to mind.” She said, turning in her chair to cast a sarcastic wave in the direction of the Jason Statham lookalike. He stiffened before hurrying off to another corner of the room. Looking over at him, she took in his… less than perfect appearance. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in an unpressed suit, or with the hints of five o’clock shadow. “How about you?” She asked conversationally, pretending as though she wasn’t startled by his disheveled state.

The fae cast Luce a cursory glance. Hair up, clothes a little rumpled. Felix couldn’t quite tell with the red hue he looked at the world through, but maybe even a bruise or two. See enough broken or mending bodies and some deductions could be made. He would say she looked about how he felt, but really, he imagined they both looked about how they felt. He hadn’t put much effort. Shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loose. Wasn’t enough of a bother to wave his hands over when he went out the door. “The dealers can get pretty cranky here. Think the one you got put with has a reputation for it. Or maybe that’s because I pissed ‘em off last,” he remarked as he gave the bartender a nod of thanks when his drink came. A brow rose over his glasses as he looked at the fleeing pitboss with a dull expression. “But the money comes around all the same so they can’t stay too mad, y’know? It always does.” He turned back and took a long drink, the burn more than welcome. He tipped his glass toward Luce. “Sláinte. Should’ve said that before.” He wasn’t entirely there, scattered as he was. He chewed on the inside of his whiskey-coated cheek as he turned the warm glass. It wasn’t that it felt strange or awkward to talk with Luce, it was just...different. There was a hole there that he couldn’t avoid noticing. It would have been wrong to. “Oh, I’m always making friends,” he said with a sharp grin that lacked any warmth. It weakened some as his shoulders dropped with a breath. “Ain’t gotta talk about it if you don’t want but, uh, Nell told me. What happened.” The drink he took was long and when he dropped his glass, he traced his chin with a thumb.

“True. The house always wins.” Luce agreed before patting the wad of cash she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans, “Except for when they don’t.” She offered a slightly forced, wry grin as she lifted her glass to her lips. At his words, she tilted her own at him in acknowledgment. “Şerefe.” She echoed. Different words, different languages, but it didn’t really matter. Every language had a word for, “let’s drink.” The liquor was cheaper than she was used to-- her jaw clenched involuntarily. She always kept a nice stock of good whiskey at Bea’s. The last time she’d drank there… Well, it had ended with her waking up in the forest with a headache and a gaping hole in her soul that she’d yet to fill. Staring into her glass, she idly toyed with the piece of orange rind in her drink, using it to stir the ice. But then, Felix’s words trickled in, sending a shiver down her spine. Pain flickered across her face. She’d… He… Nell. Christ, Nell had told him. Where had she been in all of that? Drowning her sorrow away, while her little sister had to bear the burden of breaking the news to those who mattered most to Bea? Fuck. “She did, huh?” Luce said, her shoulder tensing a bit. The last time Bea’s friends had found out, she’d had a screaming match over the internet about it. She didn’t have the energy for that right now. She was tired. Tired in a way she hadn’t even known was possible. “Yeah. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Damn right,” Felix said with a watered down expression of smugness. “House gets cocky sometimes. It’s fun to see what happens when they get taken out at the knees.” He had entertained the idea once of opening his own casino. Of standing at the top of some spiraling staircase that reached up, up, up. Looking out over what he had created. But it didn’t take. A spot like that? It had too much light. It wasn’t a place that someone like him could dwell. The attitude of the underbelly suited him better. Bottomfeeder, some called him. But at the end of the day, he always ate well. Except when he didn’t. It was hard to fill an emptiness that seemed to steadily grow and day by day, it did just that. He couldn’t say for sure and wouldn’t assume, but Luce had lost blood. It would be unfair to compare and as it was, he couldn’t lie and say he understood. No one ever really did, did they? He rubbed idly into his left temple as a smoky quiet came over them. He nodded slowly. “You don’t have to,” he said quietly. “Not really the kinda thing...The, uh, feeling that words can be put to. After a while, it’s just more noise.” Funny sentiment coming from him and he smiled bitterly at the taste. He sucked in his cheek. Opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Opened it again when the thought properly came to him. Took in a drink before he voiced it. “It’s not much, but I’ve got something. It’s better than talking when you want people to listen. Really, uh, hear you when there’s a lot going on and you’re feeling a lot, if you catch my meaning.” He glanced at her carefully. “And if you want someone to, I’m offering.”

“You’ve got that right.” Luce agreed, though the words were hollow. Normally, she would revel in the opportunity to stick it to the Stacked Deck. Then again. Under normal circumstances, she would have been at the poker tables, cleaning them out for all they were worth. But, she couldn’t go there. Too many memories, too many holidays spent around the table, playing cards and egging each other on. She took another long drink from her glass, gulping the liquor down without tasting it. She wanted to drown away the memories, banish them from her mind, even if it was only for an hour or so. She wanted to forget Bea’s death, forget the heavy burden placed squarely on her shoulders. She wanted to forget the way that damned raccoon had leaped at them, tried to attack them. At the man’s words, Luce ran her finger idly around the rim of the glass. “Noise is a good way of putting it.” She echoed. In the wake of her sister’s death, everything felt like white noise. Dull and droning and without substance. Better than talking. Christ. Anything was better than talking. She didn’t do words, except when she’d literally had them beaten out of her. And even then, she hadn’t been able to talk about it, hadn’t been able to tell Adam everything. Regarding Felix for a moment with weary eyes, Luce paused before glancing around. “Mhm, I’m in. But, not here.” Whatever he had in mind, she didn’t want to make a fool of herself in public. That was the last thing she needed.

The fae idled with glass in hand as he waited. The quiet jazz that played through the haze took him back. If his glass could be filled with aged sentiment, it would overflow. Color his cheeks red. But that warmth wouldn’t reach Felix. He wouldn’t give it permission to. It was hard without her there. Bea. The absence had never bothered him before, with how cold his shadows were, but now it numbed. His hand tightened on the glass before he threw it back to finish it off. “It’s like a beehive sometimes.” He said, voice low and without much energy. Behind cracked glasses, he met Luce’s eyes. Tired in a way that tired hardly described properly. Again, just words. Noise. “You got it,” he said as he slid a twenty on the table to cover the both of them. “Bourbon’s free at my place if you don’t mind walking. It’s not too far.” The slight lift of his mouth was lukewarm and melted soon as it came. It was a difficult thing to put energy toward. Most things were lately. He pushed away from the bartop and put minimal effort into adjusting his tie. Night breeze rustled his hair as he stepped out and held the door for Luce. “It’s not too far. Just off of, uh, Amity.” He rubbed a hand over his face as he started to walk, a hand in his pocket.

The easy offer, the easy acceptance. The weariness that radiated off of Felix matched her own and that was what told Luce that she was in safe hands. Drugs weren’t her usual cup of tea-- weed, blue velvet, the occasional pinch of blue mushroom, that was all. Alcohol was her preferred vice. But, she had the distinct impression that whatever Felix was offering was something outside of her typical selection and that had her… interested, at the very least. “Bourbon, hm? You do know how to charm a girl. Thanks, by the way.” She said, in reference to covering their drinks. The two of them were both flush with cash, but it was still polite. Luce’s lips curled into a slight smile. Polite. How trivial. But, he was Bea’s friend… her best friend. He was grieving too, in his own way. He understood how it felt, to lose a light as bright as her sister. The shining star of the Vural family, extinguished with the sweep of a blade. She followed him down the streets without a word, the slight wind brushing against her face. It should have felt warm out, but the numbness that had overtaken her since her sister’s death had cast a dull pallor over the world. Or maybe it was just the alcohol. Either way, Luce followed behind him and waited for him to open the door to his apartment. “Thanks again.” She said as she stepped inside after him. “For even offering, I guess.” Luce added belatedly.

Felix blew a puff of air through his nose. As close as he could get to a laugh as they walked. “I don’t know if it’s the bourbon. I think Carnegie does most of the heavy lifting.” The words came dryly as he cocking his head to the side as if he thought it over. He hummed an affirmation at her thanks. It was a small gesture, a small offering in lieu of everything. Sometimes a covered drink worked better than any slew of words could. He got that. The streetlights highlighted each haunt in the pale skin of his glamour as they walked. Highlighted her haunt too as they walked silently. The town felt empty. Each of their steps seemed to echo. Even if every light turned on at once, one would be missing. And the shadow it cast would be far too great. His apartment was dim as they walked in. Carnegie shifted from his place atop a pile of warm coals. Dangerous? Probably, but the place hadn’t burned down yet. Just as he had promised, he headed toward his full liquor cabinet and grabbed them a set of glasses. “Figured it’s the least I could offer, Luce,” he said as the bottle clinked against the glass. A generous amount for the both of them. He talked as he moved around the space. “The, uh, something I was talking about. It’s called lift. It gets a little...what’s the word, transcendental.” There was a small concealed drawer underneath his desk and it clicked as he pressed against it. Out of it, he retrieved a cone-shaped incense burner and small packed kernels of an indescribable color. “But sometimes it helps to piece together what’s going on here--” He gestured vaguely around the heart and head region. “When your feet aren’t on the ground. I’ve used it a couple times before.”

Entering the apartment, Luce’s eyes were immediately drawn to the glowing embers. As she stared, the coals seemed to shift and she realized that it was a fire salamander, not all that unlike Iggy. This one looked quite a bit older than Iggy, if it was possible to tell such a thing. Something in the eyes, the way it stared at her for a moment, before ignoring her in favor of curling up around a bright coal. “It’s nice to meet the fabled Carnegie in person. My familiar, Iggy, is a fire salamander too.” She said with a nod before she took in the rest of the apartment. It had an old fashioned flare to it-- classic movie posters, tasteful vintage furnishings, and a dark palette. Purple, red, black, the color of dusk. Very different from her own personal taste, but it suited Felix. “I appreciate it all the same.” She said quietly. Crying in Remmy’s arms, crying in Adam’s arms. She was tired of crying, tired of being unable to explain the depths of her grief. She listened carefully as Felix spoke, watching the way he gestured to himself. She gripped the glass he’d poured for her, sipping it as she mulled over his words. “It clears things up? Helps you sort through your emotions?” She asked. Whatever it was, if he thought it could help, she’d take it. “I’m game.” Luce said with an attempt at a smile.

“Oh, he’s real popular. Nell broke into the joint just to feed this guy takis, if you can believe it,” Felix said with an amused huff. As if proud of himself, the salamander feigned a yawn and turned their back to them. The fae shook his head and took a drink. “I think it gave him an attitude. Now he thinks he’s a real James Dean. I’d say he oughta meet Iggy but he might be a bad influence.” He took a moment to shift the coffee table out of the way before he sat down on the monochrome rug, drink and lift both carefully balanced in his hands. “It’s just...I wanna do something and I mean, this--” He paused as he set up the burner and lift on a small board. “--This is sorta my thing. D.A.R.E. got it all wrong.” Another dry laugh. He glanced up at Luce and looked at her for a long moment. He rarely hoped but he hoped that this, what he offered, would do something. Even something small. In his apartment, he could see the slight bruising better. “It does, yeah. The couple times I’ve done it, it’s like you’re being cracked open? Other people compare it to being unzipped and stepping out of their skin. Like you just exist as energy and you can see what makes it all up. It’s different for everyone but the one thing that stays the same is that...” He carefully placed the lift inside and left the top open, the drug ready to be lit. “If you do it with someone nearby, they just get it.” Maybe they could both use that. He swallowed another drink. “You wanna do the honors of lighting us up?”

Luce let out a small huff of a laugh, imagining her sister breaking into the apartment, a bag of Takis in hand. “I can definitely believe it. That sounds like Nell alright.” She said with a small shake of her head. The slight grin that had formed on her face faded though, as she remembered the reality of their situation-- it had been nearly a month since she and Nell had… properly done anything. Laughed. Smiled. Told jokes. Even yelled at one another. Fuck, she hadn’t really been back to the house. More often than not, Luce spent her days holed up either at her cabin or at work, coming up with whatever excuse she could to stay away from the house. “Iggy’s pretty disciplined. He keeps me in line, some days.” She admitted. Her familiar had provided her some amount of relief and reassurance over the past month. The fire salamander was aware of her mental state, knew the pain she was in. He was there to support her, in ways no one else really could. Iggy was the only one who understood. But, as Felix explained what the drug did, described its effect, Luce nodded. Maybe… Maybe Iggy didn’t have to be the only one. “Sounds good to me.” She said and held out a finger to the incense burner. Blue flame extended from the tip of her finger, catching against the strange colored kernels before igniting in an iridescent plume of smoke.

It was pleasant talking about salamanders. A thin string of normalcy in a thickly woven cover of melancholia. But as they settled into their respective positions, the cover shifted and the string was out of sight. Any vague thought of her possibly saying no faded away as blue flame reflected on his glasses and smoke started to rise. As small as lift was, just a kernel of compacted powder that may or may not have been empath bones, it lasted. Somehow purposefully spaced out its breaths of smoke to guarantee such a thing. What it did couldn’t be handled all at once. As the smoke gathered in a colorful yet colorless shroud, something out of space itself, Felix breathed in slowly. “One more thing,” he said, voice slow and steady. “I’m not human.” The way he already felt himself start to separate, he felt it was only fair to mention. Lift didn’t care for illusions as it steadily stripped them away the further it was breathed in. The smoke unraveled and as it did, human illusion slowly gave way to the shadow he wore. It was a substance of vulnerability, of shedding any masks that someone might wear in the light of day. Or in his case, the dark of night. For that reason, he kept his glasses on as he faced Luce. He could already feel the pressure that started to gather. Every repressed thought and emotion. Lift bared one’s consciousness to another. The tension from his shoulders started to dissipate as he released a breath, the motion causing a shift in the smoke as it swirled toward Luce. Slowly, steadily, the fae’s consciousness pressed against thin glass. The crack of armor. “It’ll be a minute.”

The smoke curled around in the room, filling it with colors beyond comprehension or description. But the strange appearance didn’t bother her. Luce was more aware of the space that the smoke filled, the way it curled, the soft heat, the heady scent that filled her nose. She watched as it curled around Felix and was startled to see his face fading. No, not fading. It was as though shadow was bleeding through his skin, pulsing just below the surface. A glamour. Luce looked on as horns, dark and tall, began to reveal themselves. “Huh.” She said, not really sure what else to say as the smoke began to mix and mingle with the air around her. Like incense, lift was thick and cloying as it danced before her. But, when she took in a deep breath, she could feel it filling up her lungs, buoying her. It burned, in the way that all smoke did, though the effect of the drug slowly began to filter through. As she breathed out, Luce could feel the mental barriers and walls built up in her mind begin to dissipate with the smoke. She still felt very much as though she was still in her own head, but… it was like there was more room. Her consciousness, her spirit, it felt as though she roamed beyond the confines of her body. If she pushed a little further, she could free herself. And maybe she could escape the guilt, the grief, the agony. Or at least, she could share it, with someone who could finally understand.

Felix inhaled smoke and exhaled humanity. Each breath stripped it from him, his shadow tinged with impossible luminescence. Luce’s short exclamation prompted a laugh and when it slipped through, the crack in his foundation widened by a fraction. Hands of grief and rage, of loneliness and melancholy, clung to the corners of the walls he created and began to tear them down. Stone by moon-drenched stone. Lift willed the earthly body to split itself open, to free what it was that they decided to confine. To hide away. He was aware of the ground beneath them but as he breathed, in and out, it started to fall away. The coals that Carnegie rested on glowed brighter, warmth and comfort. The warmth had been taken from the world when she had been taken away from them. That thought rang oppressively loud, as though tangible. Tentatively, the shadow of his consciousness crawled out of the rift that started at his chest and reached up his neck to unlock his skull. Freed from its confines and gasping for breath, it seemed to grow as it rose out of him. A construct of every storm by every name that dwelled and accumulated within. It hovered near the smoke as though waiting. The room they were in was hardly a room anymore. It was an open space, a box that unfolded wall by wall as time excused itself. What he and Luce felt, it could not be confined to mere words. It stretched beyond. Further still. Near enough to the point of breakage.

With each breath she took, Luce could feel the barriers crumbling. They toppled over each other, the foundations turning to dust and clouds of smoke that escaped from her mouth. All of her emotions, the sorrow and guilt and rage billowed from her body, filling the vast expanse between the two of them with heat fueled by grief and shame. If Felix’s consciousness was that of shadows and night and of raging storms barely kept in check, hers was that of the lightning strike that sparked a wildfire in the middle of the night. It was rage and hate, mingling together, dancing before her eyes. The emotions sparked and flared, to distract from the darkness that shrouded them. Because light gave way to darkness, fire gave way to ash. Two sides to everything, two sides to her pain. Beyond her anger and hatred, there was loss. Profound grief that she couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t bear to reflect on, so she’d kept it locked away. Now that the barriers were broken, the boundaries stripped bare, that darkness washed over her. It filled the room, spilling out of her in a way words never could. And it was mirrored in Felix’s own shadows. In his own grief. In his own pain.

Every concealed emotion spilled forward, as though a dam were breaking. As if lightning had cracked it open. As Felix looked at Luce, he supposed it had. Every broken thing after a storm created a shadow and in them, he became real. Real in a way he hardly ever allowed in the company of most. And as he supposed, the place they temporarily dwelled appeared to smolder. Like fanning out a deck of cards or tumbling dice, it all became tangible. Laid out on the table as their respective consciousnesses said what simple words could not. What they felt was not simple. Luce’s grief descended the room into darkness and he welcomed it. Encouraged it. To avoid darkness was to avoid an entire half of existence. Each crash of hate and anger and desolation conjured a lightning strike. Thunder rumbled. When the pressure in his head felt as though it would become too much, it opened and starlit rivers broke free from his eyes. Memories in tear drops. The story of them did not play out, but each one held joy. Laughter. Comfortable silence. Shades of pink and red, the colors of a love unspoken but no less real, wandered through the dark. His fingers tightened into his knees. Right before rage laden in sorrow split them in two and the rush came, his jaw tight and near bleeding anger red at the corners. Hate and love, two dancers on knife point, swept across the expanse. It did not cut through Luce’s own anger. Instead, it swept between, encouraged by the storm.

The man-- no, he wasn’t quite a man. Through the storm-soaked beams of starlight that flitted around what had once been Felix’s apartment, Luce was able to make out the image of horns, curving from the inky black. He was shadows incarnate, a man wreathed in darkness. He knew the dark, lived in it, loved it. The flames of her mind, of her spirit, she felt them sputter as droplets of teary rain fell down upon her, crashing with concussive bursts. With each droplet, she could feel a memory of her sister, the moments of love turned bitter by the thread of life cut short. The drops of water exploded into plumes of pink and red, and she knew. She understood. Between the falling tear drops, lightning rang, glimpses of memories flashing through the air. Memories fraught with emotion-- anger, jealousy, self loathing, yes. Those came crashing through, filling the space with bitterness and regret. But, flashes of love, of laughter, of adoration, those streaked across the sky as well. Thin rivulets of water ran down her cheeks, pooling on the ground around them. Endless tears flowed from her eyes until the space below them was flooded and an ocean formed, the two of them floating above it all. Him, darkness embodied. Her, flames in human form. The rain, the lighting, the darkness, the love, the rage, it was all reflected in the dark waters below them. The same image, distorted by the truest depths of grief.

Self-loathing came over Felix in fraught waves. Jealousy even. The kind that drew breath when it came to a sibling. Ruby red, his sister’s namesake, bloomed and crystallized as the thought drifted by. Blood. It was the loss of blood that spilled into the waters. When he caught it in his mind’s eye, it conformed to him in a way that he readily understood. Word for word, the loathing could not be translated. But it could be read. Regret came like the burn of a drink on the back of a dry tongue. Sorrow the tonic and regret the gin. It settled between them like the last drawn out note of a well-used piano, rippled the shared waters of their grief that spilled freely. He looked at Luce. Saw her. Her grief that smoldered, her anger that crashed. Tore apart the earth and the blood that coursed through the path of roots since burned out. 

Any thought of withholding what it was that needed to be felt was gone. Done away with as the smoke coursed through them and blossomed inside their lungs. Begged to be picked and for their pain to be given names. True names that their minds, now open and unraveled, could wrap around. Could look at and know. Could face even if they couldn’t face themselves. Felix’s hand, his true one, touched his fingertips to the fathomless waters that waxed and waned beneath them. The stars, the sun itself, seemed to alight his bones. From his fingers to the jagged edges of his horns. Inside his very marrow, the thought of Bea made a home. A burning shadow he became. Her sun. As Luce would not let him descend into too deep a darkness, he would not let her burn too fast and too great. But for now, they could burn, they could bleed. A symbiosis stitched haphazardly from sorrow.

The two of them sat above the churning waves, threatening to engulf the both of them. But, though the waves crashed around them, a sense of calm washed over Luce. The water, it was just that… water. It was grief, it was despair, deeper than any she had ever felt. But, it wouldn’t drown them. It wouldn’t consume them. Not while they had one another as support. She watched as Felix’s hand touched the water, his shadows dripping from his fingertips and spreading across the top of the ocean beneath them. From his fingers, she saw darkness, yes, but within the tendrils of darkness, she saw glimmers of pink and gold and red, the hues of sunrise. In those glimpses of color, that was where Bea lived. Her sister’s smiling face, cheeks flushed pink, the way her hair and glimmered under stage lights, almost gold, her sister’s brilliant flames alight with red. 

She was with them. With both of them, Luce realized as she looked up to the sky. Around them, the storm clouds and rain drops had faded to ether, the lightning nothing more than the scent of smoke and the inexplicable smell of ozone. Instead, streaks of color filled the air as though painted with the stroke of a large brush. Thick colorful swaths of warmth, like paint across a canvas-- a testament to the love she felt for her sister. The storms had run their course, the fire had raged and burned low, the lightning gone, the darkness banished. And with it all laid bare, the only thing left was love. Pure, tender-hearted love. Perhaps it was tinged at the edges with a sky blue of sadness and regret, but their love for Bea was what remained.

Soothed by the shimmering pinks and golds, Felix slipped his glasses off and set them aside. His eyes were dim. Contented. He could not view it through blood red lenses, not as the sky and the sea settled. He had to see it clearly and as he did, as he saw the skyline they could look forward to, he wept. The tremors settled. Eased with each and every breath that split between them. The rattle of bone and storm calmed. Where their cracks had formed, their broken bits had ached, the very thought of Bea tended to them. Just as she always had. She was not gone. The very thought of her kept her alive and she would not permit them to fade into ash. The curve of her smile would not allow them to break. The way her hands held them would not permit them to fall, to collapse. To crumble. The dim lights of his eyes shone in answer but did not fall to madness. He bowed his head and ran his hands over his face. Felt the tangibility, the impermanence of flesh. But love and thought did not wither the way that blood and bone did. He clung to that as he lifted his head, rose from the waters of their agony, and looked at Luce. Breathed freely as the smoke started to thin. It felt strange to speak as he opened his mouth, the smoke now faint and tinged with blue. “I--Thank you, Luce.”

The brilliant, tender hues of the scene around them bled into the air around her-- it was warm, warm in the same way that Bea’s arms had always felt when wrapped around her own. It reminded Luce of how it felt when they were children, wrapping Nell up in a tight hug, the three of them together. Her hand rested against her stomach as she took in the colors around them, fingers pressing against the fabric of her shirt. Her fingers pressed against the tattoo that lay there, the tattoo they all had, binding them together. At the thought, Luce could feel the ocean begin to drain away, the water receding until she could feel the cool floor of Felix’s apartment below her. No longer fire incarnate, she was slowly returning to the world, the nebulous, shapeless feelings slowly falling back within the confines of her mind. But, though the ocean was fading from her vision, the soft pinks and gold remained above. Her sister's presence remained. And it was the last to fade as they returned, as the lift ran its course. Looking over at Felix, she was slightly surprised to see his ever-present glasses nowhere to be found. Instead, she could see softly glowing eyes staring back at her from the midst of shadows. She could see tears dripping down his face, and when she opened her mouth to speak, she could taste salt on her lips. The remnants of tears she hadn’t realized she’d cried. “No, thank you.” She said with a watery smile. The pain, it still lingered, still clung to her soul. But, it couldn’t compare to the warmth of love that remained.

[rocket-remmy]

A New Perspective || Luce and Remmy

TIMING: A little after Luce got back in town PARTIES: @divineluce and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Luce is back in town and Remmy needs to see her with their own two eyes. CONTENT: Food poisoning mention, Domestic abuse mention

“If you bite me, I’ll stick you in the closet with the hamster.” Luce warned Rhiannon, as she played with the large grey cat that batted at the toy she dangled over the cat’s fuzzy head. For once, the cat seemed to listen to her, which earned her a scratch under the chin. Glancing over at the clock, Luce saw that it was nearing midnight and let out a sigh. As soon as she stopped petting the cat, she felt claws press into her leg, just at the edge of her shorts. “Jerk.” She said to Rhiannon before making her way out of her room. Being back here, after she’d been gone for so long, it felt like she was walking on eggshells. She’d left her sisters. She’d left the people who cared about her, just because she couldn’t deal. And yeah. It was the right decision, she still believed that. But, it fucking sucked that no one else could seem to get that. When the knock came at the door, Luce opened it, tilting her head inside. “Hey.” She said, not looking directly at them. She really didn’t want to fucking see the judgement in their face, not right off the bat.

Luce had been gone for over a month and Remmy really should have been angrier with her-- but all they felt was relieved. They’d missed her, god they’d missed her, and their skin was vibrating as they raced down the road towards the Vural house. They wanted to know where she’d been and they wanted to know what made her come back. They wanted...a lot of things, but they also wanted to make sure Luce understood they weren’t there to force her to do anything. She needed to decide this on her own. Either way, whatever happened here, it was going to be easier than what they’d been dealing with here. Lydia and Deirdre and Morgan and...all the people who had hurt them, lately. All the people who had decided their commitment to non-violence was too much for them. For a moment, their heart hitched and they slowed. They could feel their heart pounding, the ghost of it at least, from when they were “alive” in their costume. Took a moment to regather themself before they made it up to the door and knocked. “Hey--”  they started, but Luce was already walking away. Remmy scrunched their face, but stepped inside, closing the door. Remmy reached out to grab her hand, stop her from walking too far away. “I’m glad to see you,” they said, “thanks for letting me come over.”

Luce didn’t really want to linger in the hallway-- she didn’t want to get in Nell’s way, or Bea’s for that matter. She’d put the two of them through enough shit. She didn’t really want to deal with them running into Remmy and have to handle multiple people who were pissed at her for disappearing from town at the same time. But, as she made her way down the hallway, heading back towards her room, Luce felt Remmy’s hand reach out for her. She felt the comforting cold of their skin against her own. Still not looking at them, she shrugged. “Yeah. For sure.” She said before looking down the hallway again. “Can we get back to my room? I don’t really want to run into Nell or Bea out here.” She said, shifting slightly so her hand tugged theirs. It wasn’t enough to free herself from their grip, but just enough to pull against them.

Remmy could feel the resistance in Luce’s steps, in the way she tugged on their hand. They sighed and nodded, but found that she wasn’t even looking at them. Was she afraid to? Did she really want them here? “Yeah, sorry, of course,” they agreed and followed after her. Admittedly, they also didn’t want to run into Nell or Bea here, they knew it would be strange and awkward, and they didn’t want to deal with that, either. They wanted to talk to Luce. When they made it to her room, they waited for her to open the door before stepping in, closing it quietly behind them. They looked at her with the same soft expression they had when she’d opened the door, which they now realized she hadn’t even seen at first. “Better?” they asked once they were alone.

Nodding, Luce led Remmy back to her room. With every step she took, there was a strange sensation in her stomach-- dread? Fear? No, it wasn’t either of those, not exactly. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but she knew that prolonging this wouldn’t make it any easier. When they entered the room, Rhiannon’s eyes flicked open from where she was sleeping on the bed, but didn’t move otherwise. Luce leaned against her desk, resting a hand next to Iggy’s terrarium, her familiar’s back the color of smoldering embers as he slept. “Yeah. Things have been… tense, since I got back. Which, no shit they have been, it’s just a lot right now. I didn’t want you to get caught in the middle.” She said before looking at Remmy for the first time. And, for a moment, she was startled. Their face-- well, their eye. Their eyes. “Oh.” She said, confused. “That’s new.” She said, gesturing to their left eye. They looked so different without the eyepatch she’d come to associate with their face. Younger. Softer, in a way. 

“How sweet,” Remmy said, with only a bit of sarcasm. They weren’t here to judge Luce, though, or to make things more complicated for her. They just wanted to know that she was okay. Physically, at least. Finally, she turned to look at them and Remmy watched the confusion wash through her face. For a moment, they weren’t sure what it was about, but then she cleared things up and Remmy reached up to touch the corner of their eye. “Oh, yeah,” they said, shrugging, “it’s glass. I got it a few weeks ago. My old one had shattered well--” they rubbed their head, “--a long time ago.” When Morgan had died. When they’d been crushed by a car and watched her bleed out in front of them. They cleared their throat. “I can take it out if it’s too weird,” they teased, giving her a little grin. “I’ve still got the eye patch.”

Shooting an annoyed look at them from the corner of her eye, Luce resisted the urge to sigh. But, she really didn’t have much of a leg to stand on when it came to getting annoyed with people, did she? So, instead, she studied their face. It was still strange. Had she ever seen them without the patch? “Glass. That tracks.” She said, tilting her head as she continued to stare at them. Raising an eyebrow, Luce held up a hand, nose wrinkling at the thought of them taking the glass eye out of their skull. “Yeah, don’t do that. It’s not weird, just different.” She said. For a minute, she stood there awkwardly. A first. She didn’t do awkward. But, she really didn’t know what Remmy wanted, why they’d wanted to see her. Was it because they were pissed off at her, because they wanted to yell at her in person? Or was it something else? She didn’t fucking know. “Congrats on the eye, though. It suits you.”

Remmy frowned a little. They figured Luce was going to be resistant, she always was, but they didn’t know if they expected this dejection from her so early on. Did she think they were going to yell at her? They’d already yelled at her, there wasn’t much else to say, really. “Yeah, thanks,” they said, moving around awkwardly. “So, how was it?” they asked, then, looking back and forth, then over to Luce. “Wherever you went. Um--” their eyes fell to the cat on the bed and they shuffled by Luce over to her, kneeling in front of the bed. Held their hand out to let her sniff, which she did gently, before going back to sleep. Remmy scratched her head and glanced back over at Luce. “Who’s the cat?”

There had been moments of tension between her and Remmy before. Anger, frustration, irritation, fear. But as they stood here in her room, the distance very apparent between them, Luce couldn’t put her finger on the particular kind of silence. Blinking, she nodded. “Boston. I have a friend who has a shop down there, spent some time working with him.” She said. “It’s a cool city. Worth the trip down, at the very least.” She drummed her fingers against the side of her desk and watched as they reached out to Rhiannon. The cat regarded them with mild disinterest before curling up again. At their question, Luce shrugged. “Rhiannon. She’s not mine, I’m watching her for--” Not a friend. No, Nadia wasn’t exactly a friend. “Nadia. She wanted to make sure that she was safe and I volunteered.”

“Boston, huh?” Remmy answered, lifting themself up enough to sit on the bed next to the slumbering cat. They regarded Luce with concerned eyes, but tried not to let their look get too intense. They knew she hated that. “I was stationed in Boston before they sent me overseas. I always liked that city.” Remmy reached out to pet the cat again, smoothing the fur on the top of her head down with thought. “Nadia’s cat?” they blinked. “Oh.” Nadia wasn’t what Remmy had come here to talk about, but they knew Luce was worried about her. They wondered if she had tried to contact her. “That was nice of you,” they answered finally, “to volunteer.” Glanced sideways at her. “Can I ask how you are?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Luce said, the words coming out before she realized she’d said them. She remembered them talking about it, how they’d been there when they’d first joined up and were in EOD classes with the military. Why the fuck did she remember that? Instead of trying to figure out what that meant, Luce watched as Remmy continued to pet Rhiannon. Maybe it was because she was tired and it was late, but the cat was a lot more docile with them then she was with Luce. Brat. “It was the right thing to do.” She said after a moment, thinking back to how she’d seen a flash of Nadia in the mirror that night. How she’d stayed over that night, before she realized what had happened. She’d tried to do the right thing, tried to study up on the runes that could be used to banish a ghost, but it hadn’t mattered. She’d been too scared to try anything and now? She’d never get the chance to. Nadia wasn’t there anymore. At their question, Luce shrugged. “I mean, you can do whatever you want.” She replied.

Something seemed to be bothering Luce, or at least preoccupying her mind. Remmy didn’t mind all too much, but they did frown a little, furrowing their brow. Whatever she was going through, whatever had made her run away, it clearly was still happening. “Do you wanna sit?” they asked, shifting on the bed to make room for her beside the cat. “Are you gonna give me an honest answer if I ask that? Cause, like, if not, then there’s no point in asking it, really,” they continued on after a moment, looking from the cat to Luce. They didn’t know what to do with their hands anymore, aside from pet the cat. They sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not here to yell at you, Luce. I just genuinely wanted to see for myself that it was actually you and that you were actually, I dunno...okay. Alive.” They looked at her with a sad smile. “I just missed you.”

Luce didn’t really want to sit. As confusing as the distance between them was, distance was something she was used to. Sitting next to them would be closing that gap, at least in a physical kind of way, and what was meant to happen after that? But, she was too tired to think of an excuse out of it, so she sat next to Remmy. Rhiannon let out a sleepy mewl before butting her head against Luce’s thigh. She liked the witch’s warmth, something that her owner had also seemed to like. Something that Remmy had liked too. Leaning back on her arms, Luce nodded. “I’m alive. And as far as how I am,” She paused, letting out a breath. She was tired. Pissed, but she wasn’t allowed to be pissed off, was she? Everyone else got to be angry at her, for leaving, but she couldn’t be angry at them for thinking that she could just keep going when things kept changing around her, when it felt like the world was on the verge of coming crashing down every day. “Well. I’m alive.” She offered a tight lipped smile, more grimace than grin. At their words, she wanted to say that they shouldn’t miss her. But, the words caught in the back of her throat. Luce chose instead, to ignore the words. “What about you? How are you?” What happened to you? was what she wanted to ask, though.

“Alive is…” Remmy started, but they didn’t know what to tack on to the end of it for a moment, “good.” They finally finished but it didn’t quite feel right. Still, they let it lie. Looked over at Luce as she came to finally sit by them, but the awkward uncomfortable distance made them wonder if they shouldn’t have invited her to sit at all. She looked...tired. And anxious and maybe even worried. They supposed there was a lot to be worried about, though, wasn’t there? “Me? Oh, I’m, well--” fine and okay certainly weren’t the right words, but they weren’t sure Luce wanted to know how they actually were-- “working through some things, I guess. Complicated things.” Well, maybe not complicated, but certainly not easy to explain. If they even could. Their tongue still caught whenever they tried to talk about Lydia or think about her. It always reminded them how much they actually missed her and then the pain would start all over again. “I learned some not so fun things about people I trusted and sort of decided...I can’t trust them anymore. So that’s uh...fun.”

Idly pressing her fingers against the tattooed skin of her leg, Luce traced over one of the images above her knee, moth that Rory had done a few years ago. She ran her finger tip over the wing before focusing on them. “Working on things.” Luce echoed, eyebrows bridging together but she let them finish their words. “What happened?” She asked, voicing the question she’d wanted to ask them when they’d first messaged her since she’d gotten back. “You don’t need to tell me everything, but… what happened to you?” She wanted to reach out to touch their face, to look at them and try to see just what was going on in that head of theirs, but she held back. She didn’t know if she was part of that group, of people who’d lost Remmy’s trust. 

“A lot happened,” Remmy grumbled, unsure where to start. “Like....the uh, the person I’ve been staying with for a while, I sort of found out something...shitty about her. Something I couldn’t get along with.” They found that they wanted to tell Luce-- that somehow Luce was one of the only people they wanted to tell about this-- but they just couldn’t. Whatever loyalty Lydia had built in them, they couldn’t bring themself to out her. They just couldn’t. Their love for the woman, no matter how tainted, remained intact. “I’m fighting with Morgan because of it, too. It’s just...a lot at once, I guess,” they mumbled. “I moved back into the haunted mansion, too. But-- oh, you’ve never seen it. You should come by sometime. It’s nice and quiet. Erm-- at least for people who can’t see ghosts. Do you mind ghosts?” They were rambling now, and they knew they were rambling, but they couldn’t help it. “Um...they’re all nice, though. They mind themselves, really.”

“Do I know her?” Luce asked, partially out of curiosity but mostly out of concern. What could this woman have done to lose Remmy’s trust like that? What could have changed them so much? They weren’t the same person that Luce had left behind a month ago. And, Luce wondered, what could she have done that would have caused a fight with Morgan? Luce didn’t particularly like the other woman, didn’t want to like her. But, she knew that Morgan mattered a lot to Remmy, for a whole host of reasons and vice versa as well. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a lot to go through.” She nodded. “Are you-- Is there something I can do that would… help?” Luce asked, the words tentative. She didn’t know what she could do or what they’d accept. But, seeing the way they sat there, so crestfallen, so unsure? She just wanted… to make up for what she’d done. “The haunted mansion, huh?” Luce raised her eyebrows at the mention of ghosts, expression turning grim for a moment. Looking at Rhiannon, she rubbed the cat’s head for a moment. “No, I don’t like ghosts. But,” She glanced up at them, “I could make an exception.”

“I don’t know if you do,” Remmy admitted. They really didn’t know that much about Lydia’s actual life, when they thought about it, but digging into her personal life via the internet almost seemed intrusive. Not that she deserved that dignity, it just didn’t feel like a line Remmy wanted to cross. Still...they had to wonder, how many people had come before Chloe? If Lydia was older, in her 60’s she had mentioned to them once, then there had to have been more before her. The thought soured Remmy’s stomach and they bit the inside of their lip. “No, I’m-- well, not fine, I guess, but I can handle it. It was my choice after all, to walk away. I should live with it,” they answered finally, determined to not let it show how much everything really was affecting them. They let out a long sigh and flopped back on Luce’s bed, rubbing their palms against their forehead. “Everything’s just gonna suck for a bit, but, like, at least it doesn’t suck in a ‘I almost died or get ripped in half or poisoned by a friend’ kind of way, right?” Peeked at Luce from behind their fingers. “Oh, uh, yeah. My friend Nora named it that, she’s kinda like...really into Goth stuff. She owns the place. Erm-- she bought it. It’s a huge house, got like twelve bedrooms, and all those strange, fancy rooms old houses have. Like a foyer? And a conservatory? What even are those for?” Smiled wearily at her. “Wow? Just for me? Careful, Luce, I might think you care,” they teased.

“If she’s out of your life now, that’s really all you can do, right?” Luce asked. Whatever this woman had done couldn’t have been good. But, she wasn’t going to push. Remmy didn’t need to tell her shit, she didn’t need to know and, fuck, she really didn’t deserve to know. So, she sat and listened as they talked. It sucked, seeing them like this, hurting in a way that they couldn’t just heal from. She watched as they lay back on her bed, rubbing their head with their hands. “That’s one way of looking at it.” She said, though neither situation was “better” than the other by any stretch of the imagination. Christ. Even before she’d left, they’d been fucking through it and then all of this? Leaning back so she was propped up on her arms, Luce grinned, “Sounds like you’re living large. Ghosts and all.” But, at their joke, her smile faded and she shifted her gaze. She did care. She cared about them more than she wanted to admit. Why couldn’t she just say it, act like it? Because Remmy deserved better? She’d hidden behind that excuse before, but it was truer than ever right now. Shifting, she shrugged. “Fooled you, huh?”

Remmy frowned, furrowing their brow. They looked at Luce so often, but somehow seeing her here, in this quiet peace of her bedroom, she looked sadder than normal. Remmy looked away. They didn’t know where their heart landed with Luce anymore. They liked her, a lot, and if she’d ever give them a chance, they’d say yes-- but they weren’t sure it was ever going to happen. And...maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay to just be this way. Still, they longed to reach out and touch her, feel her. Kiss her. Swallowing, they looked back up at the ceiling. “You can’t fool me,” they mumbled after a minute, “not anymore.” 

Glancing down at Remmy, Luce caught them staring at her, watching her. They’d done that before, looked at her many, many times before. But, there was something different about the way that they looked at her. Instead of the defiant frustration that she’d seen on their face when they’d had similar conversations, all she saw was… defeat. And, she should be satisfied with that. She should be glad that she put that mistake to rest. But. “Fuck.” Luce swore under her breath. What did they do to you? What did I do to you, she wondered, but didn’t say the words. 

Instead she said, “You’re right. But, not entirely right. I don’t think I ever fooled you.” Luce reached out to touch them, gently cupping their face with her hand. She wanted to hold them, to kiss them, to feel the cool relief of their skin against hers. She shouldn’t. She should. She wasn’t enough. But they wanted her, they’d wanted her once, so maybe that meant she was enough. She didn’t know how to care about someone. But maybe she could. “Can I? Care about you?” She wasn’t just asking permission; could she even do that? Did they think she could?

The touch came as a surprise. While Luce often initiated their more sexual moments, the intimate moments were few and far between, and it was usually Remmy acting on them. They looked up into her eyes, still splayed on the bed, and blinked, confused for a moment. “What do you mean, can you?” they asked, then scrunched their brow. “Of course you can, Luce, that’s never been up for debate.” Lifted their hands to cover the ones on their face, dropping them down to hold Luce’s wrists loosely. “It was just about whether or not you would let yourself. I fought you for so long on that, all I ever wanted was for you to admit you could care,” they mumbled, eyes tearing up a little, “it didn’t even have to be for me. Although, that woulda been a nice bonus.”

The familiar, comforting coolness of their skin was something Luce hadn’t even realized she’d missed until the moment they held her hands. “You’ve got a lot more faith in me than I did. Do.” She said, still not sure if they were right. She didn’t know how to be there for people, not in any real kind of way. She ran away from her problems, she left the people who mattered behind, she’d always done that. She was still running. And, though she’d vowed to be different on her birthday, the fear of what the prospect of changing had overwhelmed her. She’d done the exact same thing she’d always did. And it had hurt everyone that mattered-- her sisters. Remmy. Ulf. Fuck, even Nadia wasn’t in her body any more. If she had stayed, could she have helped them? Could she have defended her sisters against the threats to the coven and all the spellcasters in White Crest? Could she have helped Remmy with their falling out, been there for them? Could she have stopped Nadia from losing her body? She’d never know. Because she’d been too busy running. And she had to stop. She had to. “I care.” Luce swallowed before continuing, “I care about you. And I want to be here to prove that. If you want me here.”

Luce was silent for a long time, but Remmy knew to give her the space she needed to work through her thoughts, her feelings. They could see it in her eyes, watching the cogs turn behind the dark hues. The relief that flooded through Remmy was one that felt nearly overwhelming. How long had they been waiting to hear those words? It felt like years. They felt like maybe they’d been waiting for a moment like this their entire life. For someone to finally pick them, choose them. Want to be with them. Want them. After all the shit, after all the pain, Luce finally said it. Remmy couldn’t help the smile that grew on their face. They reached up, then, and met Luce’s face halfway, pressing their lips together. Kissed her with a vigor they had been holding back for ages, smiling against her. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words,” they chuckled after a moment. Finally, finally, something good in their life.

Their smile eased some of the tension in Luce’s shoulders. They wanted her. They still wanted her, even after everything she’d done. They deserved better than the way she’d treated them, they did. But in this moment, a warming radiating sense of happiness filled her. It was a foreign feeling, one she wasn’t used to experiencing when it came to other people. The charged energy of the kiss brought her back to the present, pulling her back to Remmy. She could feel the way they smiled, feel how their lips curled against her own. Drawing back, she rested her forehead against theirs, suddenly breathless. “I’m-- Sorry. I just, I don’t know, how to do this. But I want to.” For you.

“You know,” Remmy said, looking up into Luce’s eyes, “it’s really not that hard. But...I don’t mind having to teach you.” After all, they’d gone so long in life without being able to freely choose someone. Simply always going along with what other people told them was right, what they should do. Maybe they’d held on so long for Luce because she was their choice, she was the one their heart picked, and letting that go felt too painful. Or maybe it was just that Remmy really never gave up on people. Or, they didn’t want to, at least. There were circumstances, obviously, lines that needed to be drawn. But here, now, they weren’t important in this moment. Just they were. Just Luce was. “Rule number one, though-- don’t run off without telling someone,” they tacked on with a crooked smile, “okay? Leave like...a sticky note or something. Anything.”

[corpse--diem]

Dirty Outs | Luce & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @divineluce​ & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Erin bumps into Luce at Stacked Deck looking for information. Unfortunately, nobody wins.

Erin found out very quickly there was only so much couch wallowing that could be done at a time like this. It was unproductive. Didn’t soothe her mind or make her arm feel better, either. And from the moment she stepped foot inside, the Stacked Deck seemed exactly like the kind of place Felix would haunt. He was the one that had given her the tip-off, after all. Cigar smoke lingered in the air and an icy chill filled her chest. Her mind flashed back to the fire. To Roy. To the gray smoke curling around his fingers as those black eyes found hers. She shoved the fear down, put it somewhere it could be useful for now. She started to move casually through the small seedy bar and ordered a whiskey, neat. Her eyes flickered up from her drink, back down, then up again. The double-take only verified just how familiar that face she’d just landed on was. “Luce?” she blurted out.

Luce glanced over the rim of her glass, staring down the man who sat across the poker table from her. She knew her hand, knew what she’d been dealt. And, she had a decent idea of what he had. His tells were shit. He got twitchy, fiddly. He messed around with the zipper of his shitty hoodie when his cards were bad, rubbed the back of his neck when his cards were good in an attempt to make them seem like they weren’t. He was real fucking shit. As the man threw in a couple of 20 dollar chips, Luce cast him a level gaze before pushing her sizeable stack of chips in. All in. As the dealer signalled to the man, asking if he wanted to continue, he threw his cards away in disgust. With a grin, Luce tossed her cards-- a complete garbage hand-- and cashed out with her winnings in a handful of $100 chips. She’d gotten at least $750 from the table, possibly more. Getting up from the table, she turned to the bar, but froze. Shit. First Morgan, now Erin? Just another person she didn’t want to fucking deal with. Squaring her shoulders, Luce made her way to the bar. “Erin.” She replied before gesturing to the bartender, “Whiskey on the rocks. Put it on his tab.” She said, jerking her thumb over to the bald pit boss who’d spent most of the night hiding from her.

Erin tried to reign in some of the shock in her eyes but she could tell from Luce’s expression that she’d already obliterated that poker face. Great. She worked her jaw, shifting in her seat a bit. “Wouldn’t have pictured you as the gambling type,” she said with a curt smile, remembering how well their last conversation had gone. Not well. Pretty poorly, one could even say. “The Vural sisters are full of surprises though, aren’t you?” A wider smile crossed her lips this time, more genuine than before. She took a sip of the whiskey, a longer one than she’d usually go for, but she had a feeling she’d need it. Her eyes scanned the crowd briefly, not only to look for any familiar faces but to see if any eyes were burning holes into her back just yet. Didn’t seem like anyone recognized her, which was a good start. “So, uh… what’s your game?” she asked, turning back to Luce quickly, then to the pit boss she’d gestured to. “Does that mean you’re kicking ass?”

Rolling her eyes at the woman’s attempt at small talk, Luce accepted the drink from the bartender with a nod and lifted it to her lips. “Shows how little you know about us.” She replied. Both she and Bea had been born in Vegas, the family tradition every holiday had been to play some kind of table game, where their mother and father taught them how to count cards, how to hide their tells, how to turn the odds in their favor. The memory was bitter and she took a long drink from her glass. “I’m decent at any of them.” Not as good as Bea, though, the thought came to her and she grinned wryly to suppress that particular train of thought. “And it means that I’ve got an unwilling friend here. I can clean this place out and he can’t get mad at me for it.” She said before casting a sidelong look at Erin. “Why are you here? You going to try and blow this place up too?”

Erin raised a brow. “You’ve got me there,” she answered. It felt like one by one, the Vurals had barged their way into her life. Nell, especially, and quite literally. They’d blown in and out of each other’s lives since she’d met Nell way back at the beginning of the year. Felt like a lifetime ago at this point. “Good for you,” she smiled coyly at her. If she was good at it and could make some money, what was the harm? But she couldn’t help the eye roll that came when she turned back to Luce. Yep. There it was. “No,” she grumbled, before taking another slow sip of her drink. Straightened her back as she glanced around them, waiting for the bartender to move to the opposite side of the bar. “Trust me, trouble’s the last thing I want right now. I’m just here for information,” she said quietly as she swirled the whiskey around in her glass. “Feel free to just--do your thing and continue to ignore me. Won’t be offended.” It’d probably make her job a little easier at this point, honestly.

Luce stared at the ice floating around in her glass, watched it spin in the amber liquid. She poked her finger at the ice cube, stirring it for a moment before taking another sip from the glass. “Yep. Good for me.” She said, the chips in her rubbing together. She’d made a decent chunk of money and she really couldn’t afford to lose at the tables. It was in her best interest to leave while the going was good. But, she couldn’t help her… interest was the wrong word. Curiosity? Yeah, curiosity. Erin had been on a warpath, literally. And like any war, there were innocent civilians caught in the crossfire. Donuts. She’d only talked to the man once, when he’d caught her out in the middle of a thunderstorm, but she hadn’t had a problem with him. Another person gone too soon in this bitch of a town. “Information, huh? And you think you can get that here?” She said, gesturing to the Stacked Deck’s patrons. “I don’t know if you realized this, but the people here don’t just go around running their mouth.”

Erin felt the burn of eyes from her seat when the door to the Stacked Deck opened again. She didn’t look immediately, concentrating instead on Luce’s question. “A friend of mine is a regular here. Most of these guys are harmless but there’s a few to watch out for,” she said with a nod, taking another small sip of her drink. Lowered her voice even more as she turned to face Luce more squarely. “There’s something I need and someone here knows where it is. Hopefully I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” she smiled, lips tight against her teeth. Her eyes drifted to the man walking past them at the bar, settling into a table not far from them at all. There was a smile on his face that could easily have passed for a sneer and it was hard to tell if it was just general male-creepiness or criminal-creepiness oozing from every inch of him. She crinkled her nose, glancing back to Luce. “He a friend of yours?”

“Uh huh.” Luce said with an unimpressed nod. A friend of hers. Who exactly was Erin friends with that spent time here? Then again, she took another drink from her glass, she didn’t really care, did she? Erin had helped her family, she’d blown up a building for her, they were even. And, she’d hurt Adam, Nell, and Remmy in the process. So fucking even. “Well, the sooner the fucking better.” She muttered. Noticing the way that the other woman shifted to face her, Luce followed her gaze. The man was definitely staring at them, a discomforting grin on his face. He wasn’t leering at them, he was just… staring. “Never seen him before in my life.” Luce said, scowling before turning back to the bar. Waving a hand, she moved to flag down the bartender, “Another, please.”

Comforting. Erin tightened her jaw, letting her eyes bounce around the room instead of staring at the set that kept finding their way over to the two of them. It seemed like he eventually got the hint though, and his eyes dipped down to the game of blackjack that was starting in front of him. Whatever his deal was, it didn’t sit right, and she couldn’t shrug the uneasy feeling from her shoulders. “I don’t like the look of him. I’d keep my distance,” she muttered offhandedly. There was no doubt Luce could hold her own, that wasn’t something Erin was afraid of. But she had good reason to be paranoid, especially after the fire. The burn on her arm twinged with a phantom pain and she pulled her sleeve up higher over her wrist. Glanced back again. He was on his cellphone now, sparing glances their way and getting scorned by the dealer for interrupting the game with his call. Whatever his deal was, he was brazen, and not all that concerned if they knew he’d been spotted in turn. Something didn’t feel right. “You should leave,” she almost whispered out as the bartender was pouring Luce’s next glass, real concern filling her eyes as she looked towards Luce.

Tracing shapes on the bartop with her fingertips, Luce scowled at the wood grain. “Got any other nuggets of wisdom rattling around in there?” She asked mockingly. Keep her distance. She was literally just here to make some money, have a drink, and pretend like things were fucking… normal. Whatever that meant. Erin shifted nervously next to her, looking back at him, messing with the sleeve of her shirt. Fidgeting. Accepting the drink with a nod, Luce cast another scornful look. “I don’t think so. I’m fine right here.” She said. Whatever was going on was Erin’s problem. If shit went south, she’d happily watch it go down and let the woman deal with her issues on her own. As Luce was about to take a sip from her cup, she noticed the door to the bar open once more, a tall man pushing the doors open. Even from here, she could see bright, shiny burn scars coiled around his throat. Like snakes. “Oh fuck.”

Fuck. How had this gone downhill so fast? She’d been here--what? Fifteen, twenty minutes? Whatever information Erin thought she was getting tonight was, apparently, going to have to wait. “You sure about that?” Erin asked, following Luce’s stare to the tall guy who just entered the room, walking right towards the smaller burlier one at the blackjack table. Fuck. Fuck. His hand moved to rub his neck, practically making a show of the scars there. This guy sure as hell knew them. Time to go. Another guy entered not long after the last one, joining the other two. Yep. This had been a mistake. The sound of chips and cards and light chatter was still prevalent, like a white noise, but altogether the room seemed to grow… quiet. Unmistakably tense. Erin quickly finished her drink, tossing some cash onto the counter. Slid off the stool and leaned into Luce. “You can stay as long as you’d like, but if you know another way out of here, I’d appreciate the tip,” she asked, the knife hidden against her leg hot and ready to strike if necessary.

Luce could feel the tall man’s eyes scanning the room-- somehow, he hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t recognized her. But, she had a feeling that would change pretty fucking quick. And as the man settled in next to the guy who’d been eyeing Erin… Christ. Muttering a few choice words in Turkish, Luce gripped her glass tightly in her hand. The room was on edge-- it felt like one of those scenes from a shitty western movie. The showdown in the bar, where all the patrons would nervously fidget with their glasses, while the white hat and the black hat would stare each other down. “I do, but it’s not an easy way out. Stay close.” Luce said, pushing away from the bar. As she stood up, she noticed the men rise from the blackjack table, the taller one going for something in his jacket. “Well, fuck that.” Throwing her glass of whiskey on the ground, Luce waved her hand and blue flames leaped onto the liquor. The alcohol soaked into the carpet, sending acrid plumes of smoke into the air as it burned.

Erin tried not to think about what would have happened if Luce hadn’t coincidentally been here to save their asses. Well--there might have been one less angry, charred tall guy coming towards them, that much would be true. But they were coming all the same. “Jesus, really--” Erin flinched as smoke filled the room. Was there anywhere she could go without the place going up in flames and smoke these days? It was like her life was some predictable action flick she usually fell asleep trying to watch. Either way, it was real, and it was happening and the only thing left to do was run. The smoke and singe distracted the goons but gunshots lit up the air. Erin ducked and followed Luce, the veil of the smoke keeping them just hidden enough for the bullets to miss but only barely. Fuck. Her heart pounded in her ears and she grabbed her knife, keeping it at the ready. A commotion rose up in their wake as the bouncer and some of the patrons were trying to calm the chaos, and for a moment, she thought they’d get out of there relatively unscathed. “Watch it!” Erin shouted suddenly, a figure running through the smoke towards Luce. The tall guy with the coiled burns around his throat. Erin reached for the closest thing to her, tossing one of the wooden stools at him just as another bullet shot from his gun.

As Erin swore, Luce rolled her eyes, ducking low to avoid the smoke. Beggars couldn’t be fucking choosers when it came to their escape routes.  A gunshot rang through the room, a bottle of alcohol shattering behind the bar, followed by a barrage of gunshots. Luce flinched, the sound an explosion in her ears. Pressing her hands to her ears, the witch darted across the room as quickly as she could, hoping that Erin was following behind her. At the other woman’s words, Luce was startled to see the man with his gun trained on her. She stared down the barrel of the gun but, before he could pull the trigger, a stool caught him in the stomach. His hand with the gun flew up in the air, the bullet shooting into the roof of the bar. “Thanks.” Luce breathed, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. “Let’s fucking go.” She said and bolted for the back door tucked away down the hallway that led to the bathrooms. Shoving the door open, Luce waited for Erin to run out of the building. Meanwhile, her eyes focused on the growing blue flames that had begun to consume the bar. With a growl of concentration, Luce tamped down the flames, letting them die down to nothing but smoldering embers. Just enough to keep smoking, but not enough to destroy the bar. At least, she hoped not.

Erin didn’t need to be told twice--or even once, for that matter--and ran out after Luce. The guy was already starting to stand back up by the time they spilled out into the alley. Coughing hard, freshly-healed lungs irritated by the smoke. “Luce,” Erin insisted, dragging her feet as she started down the alley. She didn’t give a shit if this place burned down too, not with the commotion behind the door growing louder. It wouldn’t have looked good for her but it was better than a bullet to the head for their efforts. She stood upright, waited another moment for Luce, before she couldn’t wait anymore. Booked it down the alley as the door flew open, smacking against the brick behind it. First the tall man, then the others. There were too many of them to fight. So Erin ran, as hard and as fast as she could, until the sounds of gunshots were far enough away for her to feel comfortable to slow. And when they stopped altogether, so did she. Heaving breaths, she turned, hoping to find Luce behind her still. “Fuck--are you okay?” she asked, crouching down behind a tall stack of crates, trying to figure out where they’d landed themselves.

Once Erin had darted out the door, Luce slammed the exit shut and let the magic flow through her hands. A ball of bright blue flames ignited in her palm and she pressed it against the door knob. She could feel the metal begin to heat under her hand, the steel slowly beginning to become malleable to the touch. On the other side of the door, she could hear feet pounding against the floor of the bar. The men. Gritting her teeth, she poured more magic into the handle until the metal had fused the door shut. She heard a howl of pain and smelled sizzling flesh-- one of them must have tried the door. Backing away, Luce grinned as she looked at her handiwork. For a brief moment, she was triumphant only for the sharp sound of a bullet ricocheting off the door and a sharp slice of pain to send her running. “Shit!” She yelped, hand pressed against her cheek as she ran. She was more aware of the trickle of warmth that ran down her face than she was of the pain-- hopefully that meant it wasn’t that bad. Taking off after Erin, she skidded to a halt next to the woman. “I think I’m okay. They shot the door. Nicked me?” She said, pulling her hand back. It wasn’t that much blood. Just a scratch? Whatever, she could deal with it later.

Erin’s eyes jumped to the blood. Thankfully, it wasn’t much. Looked like it would heal pretty quickly and painlessly, for the most part. But it wasn’t ideal and she was all too aware of how much worse this could have gone down. Nodding, she took a deep breath. “Seems pretty shallow.” Her feet kept moving, not wanting to be anywhere near the Stacked Deck right now, glancing over her shoulder periodically as she did so. “Chicks dig scars, anyway, right?” She tried to smile, but it was brief, and only a half-hearted chuckle wheezed out of her. She coughed again, trying to shake off the terror chilling her bones. Focused just on getting towards the main road. It was just then she realized how quiet it was. No fire engines screaming in the distance. “What did you do back there?” she asked, narrowing her eyes curiously. “Can you turn the fire on and off again? Like a faucet or something?” She felt stupid for asking but the magical realm was something she was still trying to properly wrap her head around. With the adrenaline still coursing through her, talking about anything at all was better than stifling it all back down again.

Luce’s heart was beating wildly in her chest, adrenaline still pumping through her, but she could feel exhaustion starting to creep around the edges. Using that much magic was fucking hard, particularly when she was already tired as hell. When was the last time she’d slept through the night? She couldn’t remember. Following after Erin, Luce rolled her eyes at the comment. “Yeah, because a fucked up face is the sign of a real winner.” She growled, though the words lacked the bite they would have held before. “What did I do? Magic.” Luce said sarcastically, wiggling her fingers. “It’s not a goddamn faucet. I can start fires real easy, but putting them out is harder. Think dominos. It’s easy to get things going, but hard to get it to stop until it’s run its course. It’s fucking tiring.” She explained as they two ducked into an alleyway that would get them further from the Stacked Deck.

It was Erin’s turn to roll her eyes. For a moment she thought that maybe almost getting shot out for a second could keep the peace between them even temporarily. Seemed she was wrong. “I know it was fucking magic,” she grumbled, biting back her own tone, but listened to her explanation with real interest. “Dominoes. Huh,” she mused, furrowing her eyebrows, picturing it for herself. So that meant she had stopped it? That was a relief, at least. Another look at the younger woman emphasized that exhaustion and Erin slowed down. Running a hand down her cheek, she stopped altogether. The alley opened up to a busier road--Main Street, it looked like. They’d gone farther than she realized and only then did Erin let out a long, relieved breath. “Why don’t you sit down?” she asked, gesturing towards a bench not far from them. “Just for a minute. I think the coast is clear, anyway.” For now.

“I’m fucking with you.” Luce said dryly as she glanced over her shoulder. The blood was still dripping down the side of her face, but she was more preoccupied with making sure that fucking dude with the gun wasn’t coming after her. Magic was all well and good, but it couldn’t stop a goddamn bullet. As they made their way out to Main Street, Luce’s shoulder relaxed a bit. At the very least, if the dude came after them, there would be witnesses. As Erin gestured to a nearby bench, Luce let out a deep breath and nodded. Fuck, she was tired. “Yeah.” She said, practically slumping into the bench. “You good?” She asked, realizing she hadn’t actually checked in to see if Erin was okay.

Erin didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t used to someone as sarcastic as Luce or if the bitterness in her tone was more personally directed but it was starting to get under her skin regardless. Took more of her strength to bite her tongue but she couldn’t hold back the side-eye that she gave her. “I’m fine,” she said quickly. At some points, she’d bumped her arm on the way out, causing the healing nerves under the bandage on her arm to scream at her. Otherwise she was fine. Because of Luce, she was fine. Working her jaw, she settled in reluctantly beside Luce, watching the crowd around them for any suspicious faces. “Do you want me to call anyone? Nell? Bea?” She glanced over at her, watching the blood drip from her cheek.

If Erin said she was fine, Luce was going to take her at her word. She was a grown ass adult who’d already been responsible for the deaths of others. Luce settled back into the bench, trying to catch her breath. She really needed to get more fucking sleep if this was how drained that bit of magic had made her. She hadn’t done anything much and yet, exhaustion had hit her like a fucking freight train. Watching the way the woman kept an eye on the crowd, she tilted her head. Erin had the expression of someone who was being hunted. And, given what they’d just been through, she couldn’t blame her. “No, I’m good. I’ll just crash at Ink for the night. There’s a couch in the back.” She said, pausing for a moment before continuing, “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Erin?”

Erin rested her elbow on her knees, nodding at Luce’s words. She knew the place wasn’t far from here. Luce would be fine. Good. One less thing she had to worry about tonight. But Luce’s next question was a fair one, and despite herself, a dry, hard laugh shook her shoulders. There was nothing funny about what she was doing--not the act of it. But a funeral director trying to take down a small town mob boss? It was the most ludicrous thing she could think of. “Maybe when I figure it out, I’ll let you know. Preferably over a few rounds. I probably owe you that much.” If Luce was willing. If Erin made it that far, even. The thought brought on another small, dark chuckle. It wasn’t funny, she knew that, but the adrenaline from the night was still coursing through her. With her own prolonged state of exhaustion was slowly but surely wearing away at her. “Probably not there, though,” she grinned again, gesturing towards the alley from where they had run from.

Raising an eyebrow at the other woman’s laugh, Luce sat up a bit on her own, some of her energy returning. She’d be able to get to Ink, it might just be a slow walk there. “Well, that’s good enough for me.” She nodded. And you know what? It was. Luce wasn’t sure if she was okay with Erin, not when the woman couldn’t give her a clear picture of what she’d gotten herself into. But, at the very least, she could hear her out over a couple of beers at Soul or Dell’s or wherever the fuck. “Yeah, no. I’m probably banned for life now. Which,” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the uncashed chips she still had on her. “Is a real kick in the dick for me. Whatever.” Luce said, standing up with a tired groan. “Shit seems to go south real quick with you, so… stay safe.”

“Sorry about that,” Erin said with a slight wince, but she meant it. Whatever reason Luce had been here, it was obvious she needed the money. It was probably why anyone would wind up at a place like that. She’d gone there for information herself and nothing came from it. It was hard to tell how Luce felt about her, especially given the tumultuous hour they’d just spent together, but she hadn’t blown up at her over any lingering grudges from what had occurred at the ring. So that was… progress? Sure. That’s what she’d call it for now. She pulled herself up, half a smile pulling up her lips. That was fair. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll do my best. You too, Luce.”

[big-bad-ulf]

Untethered || Ulfric & Luce

Location: Dell’s Tavern

Timing: Before the last full moon

Tagging: @big-bad-ulf and @divineluce

Content: Family death mentions, thoughts/discussion of self-harming behaviors, alcohol abuse

Description: Ulfric and Luce lower their guard after a night of drinking and have a more successful heart-to-heart about their respective losses. If swearing loyalty to each other’s revenge plots can be considered a ‘success’

Grabbing the next round of beers from the bar, Luce walked back to the high top table she and Ulf were sitting at in the corner of Dell’s. The noise of the tavern was a comforting sound to her-- the roar of sports games playing on the screens in lieu of a band playing music. Balancing the two large steins of beer in her hands, Luce slid one across the table to Ulf and took her seat across from him. Lifting the large glass up in his direction, she gave him a slightly unsteady grin She’d matched him drink for drink which would have been fine… if he wasn’t a beast of a man. In a literal sense. Werewolf metabolism had to do something for processing alcohol. Whereas she was decidedly neither of those things. Taking a long drink from her glass, she nodded a bit more emphatically than she normally would, “When you’re right, you’re right. This German stuff is pretty fucking good.” Setting the glass back down, she idly pressed the back of her forearm against the glass, pressing one of her bruises to the cold surface.

Walking into Dell's this time had felt disconcerting, the place familiar yet slightly foreign after his prolonged absence. While both Bennets and Layla had resided under his roof Ulfric had always needed to be on watch, always needed a clear head. Now that threat was gone and there was no one waiting up for him, so he was free to unwind, the buzz of activity and alcohol keeping him from dwelling for too long on how that change in situation came to pass. "Those American light beers have no taste, they practically go down like water." Ulfric insisted as he took a long drink from the stein Luce place in front of him, repeating the argument he'd made several times throughout the night with increasing conviction as the beverages kicked in. "That's new, since I saw you last," He mentioned, casting a glance down at the bruised arm she pressed against the glass, the observation that he'd usually keep to himself finding its way out past his lowered inhibitions. "Did sword training get a little hands on?" He continued, providing a half-hearted out as an apology for stepping slightly over the line they'd drawn regarding talking about each other's personal bullshit. "I wouldn't have thought that would be allowed. Doesn't it defeat the purpose of, well, swords?" 

“Yeah, yeah, American beer sucks, Budlight is basically pisswater, Coors may as well be La Croix of beer.” Luce said before drinking deeply from her mug, letting the cold carbonation rush down her throat. The bar around her was just a little fuzzy at the edges, which was just how she wanted it. Made things easier, to see it through a filter like this. And there was no better filter than a beer or four. Glancing down at her bruised forearm, as though she didn’t realize what he was talking about, Luce shrugged. Adam had fucked her up. Granted, she knew he’d been holding back-- Hunter strength and all that jazz. If he had wanted to, he could have broken her arm, broken her ribs without even trying. But, even with the pulled punches, she was still sore and bruised all over. Which was exactly what she wanted. “Nah, me and a dude beat the shit out of each other in the woods.” She said, the truth slipping out easily over the rim of her stein. “No swords involved, otherwise I probably would be really fucked up.” She said with a laugh. Training swords, even synthetic training blades, were still weapons. Still dangerous. Still very capable of knocking out teeth and breaking bone. It was a good fucking thing they’d stuck to hand to hand.

“Yes, it’s all fun and games until someone gets stabbed, I suppose.” Ulfric tried to match her laugh, to restore the bubble of alcohol-infused levity that had previously surrounded them, but it was a little strangled and forced. Somehow he seemed to have crossed the threshold between contentedly tipsy and sad, wallowing drunk, creeping over the line between the two without realizing it. Though in fairness to himself, with the way his vision was slightly blurring it would’ve been difficult to see it. “That sounds like the sort of thing I would do, the woods part, especially,” The werewolf conceded, he could hardly just her for brawling, but it just didn’t fit her style. With her powers, as he understood them, no one should’ve been able get near her, at least without risking a fiery retaliation. Which meant something was wrong, or she’d let herself get hurt, which was even more wrong. “I don’t get why you let this guy touch you without inflicting severe burn damage to his balls. It just doesn’t seem like you, Luce.” He found himself voicing his thoughts aloud, before sighing and running an agitated hand through his hair once he realized what he has said, how he’d skirted their rules again. “Faen, sorry… I know I promised, but it’s not funny for me to see or think about you being in pain.”

“I dunno, a good stabbing makes it all the more fun.” Luce said with a wry grin, not noticing the forced tone that her boss’ voice had taken on. With another large gulp of beer, she looked at her stein for a moment-- fuck, how was it already half empty? Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Luce focused on her boss as the world began to tip pleasantly from side to side. Or maybe her head was wobbling? Uncertain. “It was a good time.” She replied, though the smile that had remained on her face slipped slightly as Ulfric spoke again. A lump formed in the back of her throat at his words and she stared at the rim of her glass for a moment. The thought of her being in pain? It… fuck, it sounded melodramatic even in her head but… ever since Bea had died, her life had been nothing but fucking pain. The worst kind of pain. The pain of the soul, the pain of losing someone who she had spent much of her life relying on. It was the sort of pain that came with agonizing numbness that she would do anything to get rid of. Including fighting Adam in the woods. For a brief moment, Luce contemplated telling Ulfric to fuck off. To mind his own business, that she had this under control. But did she? Was any of this “under control?” Swallowing, Luce looked at him, “Sometimes hurting feels better than not feeling at all. It helps to feel a different kind of pain.” One I deserve. 

Ulfric had fully expected a rebuff, so when Luce didn’t dodge the question he was thrown off-kilter. The sensation reminded him of when his parents had first been teaching him how to track and he’d misjudged his footing, expecting solid ground but suddenly finding himself falling. As it was then, this was unknown territory he found himself in, and he’d be wise to tread carefully. But both ‘wisdom’ and ‘caution’ were concepts that had become unappealing and difficult to comprehend several drinks ago. “If you truly felt nothing underneath all this, you wouldn’t have to work so hard to cover it up.” He countered bluntly instead. “And what is that work getting you? Bottle things up and the best-case scenario is they stay trapped that way, and things stay the way they are.” He took a long swig of his beer and contemplated the container it came in as he spoke, as if some deep truth lay within it. “More likely they spill out when you don’t want them to, or explode, and you’ve got a predisposition towards the more fiery outcome.” The image of the cup of coffee boiling over in her hand flashed through his mind, an inopportune and involuntary manifestation of the power she kept inside. He could relate to that, even if he didn’t understand the nuances of how her magic worked. “It… can help to let whatever you’re feeling flow through you on your own terms,” he found himself offering her the advice he’d often given less experienced werewolves intent on repressing their more primal impulses. “Though I’d expect yours would be different to mine.” She couldn’t rely on the moon to help her through releasing whatever negative energies were eating her up inside, but she could rely on his support, if she wanted it. 

Taking another long drink from her glass, Luce mulled over his words. Part of her wanted to lash out at him-- what did he know about her pain? What did he know about how she felt? How could he even think to understand what she was going though? But, that was just the thing, she realized. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what was happening. All he knew was that she’d been… fucked up. Had been acting out, hadn’t been showing up to work, or had been throwing herself into things harder than she should have. All he knew was that she was spiralling. Fuck. Letting out a sigh, she set the glass down, the alcohol and mixed emotions churning in her stomach. She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to make her burdens his. She didn’t want to show this side of weakness to him. But, another side of Luce wanted to tell him everything. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could do this. How much longer could she hold onto the burden of her sister’s death, the responsibility of her resurrection, the fear and self-doubt that threatened to bring her to her knees. “I…” Luce took in a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, it might.” She said, digging her fingers into her arm, pressing hard into the floral designs etched into her skin. “Someone killed my sister. Bea.” Saying the words out loud, it felt just like it had the night she’d told Remmy what had happened. A tidal wave of emotion, guilt, sadness, anger, but most of all pain-- it all rushed over her. Luce gripped her fingers tighter, her shoulders tensing. “They were hunting Nell, but Bea… sacrificed herself. Saved her.” And she’d done nothing.

Luce’s confession brought Ulfric back to that night outside the trailer when Ari had returned to finally speak the words out loud and make them real; My sister is dead. His stomach plummeted, and he was briefly overcome by the impulse to find some kind of blanket to wrap her up in like he had the young wolf, despite how pointless that was when she could generate her own warmth. “What is it about sisters and self-sacrifice?” He found himself mumbling into his hands, leaning forward with his elbows braced against the table under the weight of the news. He hadn’t meant to say that, but a confession of his own in return for hers seemed fair. “Ariana’s sister is dead too, for similarly noble, bullshit reasons.” And his own sister was dead for completely arbitrary, bullshit reasons but that was beside the point. “Not that I’m trying to pit your grief against mine. Yours would kick mine’s sorry ass.” He explained. “I just want you to know I have some experience to back me up when I say that I’m sure… Bea was a good person, and the last she would want is to see any of her sisters hurt. Inflict that pain on the world if you need to. Throw something, light something on fire, tell me to get fucked in some creative way,” He suggested, searching for human substitutes for the innate mechanism of releasing pent up negativity that he’d been born with. Luckily, he was fairly certain he could smooth over anything she did short of burning the whole bar down with a sizable tip. “We can even go out back and I’ll let you get a few swings in. I doubt I’d feel it much right now, anyway. Just don’t direct this back on yourself, energy can’t escape a closed circuit like that.” 

“Sisters. We’ll fight and bicker like hell, but someone comes for one of us… We’ll go to the ends of the earth to hunt them down.” Luce said quietly, her finger tracing one of the flower petals on her arm, staring at one of the snakes nestled among the flowers. Her mother. Her father. Neither of them knew. They were half a world away, none the wiser to what had happened to their favorite daughter. None the wiser to what their remaining daughters were sacrificing to bring her back. At Ulfric’s next words, Luce felt her stomach lurch. Ariana’s sister-- “Celeste?” She asked, aghast, staring at him. No. No, no, no. She hadn’t messaged the other woman, hadn’t heard from her in weeks. She thought maybe she’d read the signs wrong, that she’d just been a little too pushy, that Celeste was ghosting her. It had happened for. Plenty of women had done it to her. She had never thought that she was dead. “Fuck. Fuck.” Luce said her voice cracking as her jaw clenched. “I… I’m sorry.” She said thickly, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep from crying. Waving a hand, Luce lifted her glass and drained the rest of the beer from the stein. “Don’t. Don’t say that. I’ve already tried that. Tried to kill some monsters. Killed a couple. Scared a few people. Burned down the woods. Didn’t matter. It all just felt… like shit. Nothing helped. Nothing’s helped.” Luce whispered, staring down at the tabletop, unable to meet his eyes.

Despite his dampened senses, it was obvious to Ulfric that Luce was close to tears, but he managed to keep from commenting on it despite his lowered impulse control. As close as they were, she’d never broken down in front of him, and he didn’t want to scare or shame her into restraining her emotions again by acknowledging it. “Alright, I get it, nothing’s helped.” He eventually accepted her response, rising from the booth to head toward the bar. When he sank back into his seat a few minutes later with freshly refilled steins he sighed and picked up where he left off. “Time’s supposed to, right? Let’s just pass the time then.” He nudged the glass towards her and raised his own in a tentative toast. “To sisters?”

When the man stood up to get more drinks, Luce buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly as she held back tears. Bea. Celeste. What the fuck. What the fuck. Why were the women around her dying? Who else would be next? And there was nothing that she could do for Celeste. Or for Ariana. Ariana-- fuck. She was just a kid. 18, but a kid. And she’d just lost her sister. Christ. Rubbing her face, Luce did her best to school her expression back to one of relative calm. The pain was still clear on her face, but the increased swaying of the room around them helped ease it away. “To sisters… avenging sisters.” She said, tapping her glass against his before drinking deeply, letting the alcohol wash over her. If she drank enough, maybe then she could just… forget this fresh, brutal news. “You… You said time’s supposed to help.” Luce said, echoing his words, her words running together as she stared at him with bleary eyes. “Did it? When you, when you lost your siblings. Did time help?”

“Did what?” Ulfric asked, her words becoming harder to decipher as they blurred together. “Oh, ...right.” He continued, recognition coming over him slowly. He was surprised she’d remembered. He only mentioned them in passing to explain why he didn’t get many visitors. ‘I’m the middle child of five, but my two older siblings are busy taking care of the family business back home, and the younger ones passed away a long time ago.’ An ocean of time, bigger than the ocean he’d crossed to get where he was now. Had it helped? “It helped somewhat,” He answered softly, after another steadying mouthful of ale. “Not as much as vengeance,” He added honestly, before reclining back into his chair to survey the bustling bar around them. “But I doubt you’ll find much of that at Dell’s. Time and company will have to do for now.” 

“Somewhat.” Luce nodded, taking another large gulp of beer. The bar was spinning around her, her emotions hanging by a thread. But, she kept them at bay as best she could. She focused on Ulfric, focused on his words. On the fact that he knew her pain. He’d felt the fresh sting of losing siblings at one time, even if it had been years ago. But… Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Luce glanced around at Dell’s. No one was around, no one near at least. And it was loud enough that no one would be able to tell who’d said anything, even if they had werewolf ears like Ulf. “Not here in Dell’s. But, vengeance…” She let out a dry chuckle. “Sisters. You don’t fuck with them.” She said, her eyes dull as she leaned back into her chair. Her hand tapped against the top of their table, small sparks of blue flame drifting from her fingertips. “Sisters, they’ll chase you to hell and back again.” 

At Luce’s glance around the room, Ulfric vaguely remembered that he wasn't supposed to talk of things like vengeance around mundane company. He generally tried to keep from alluding to things he’d done in the past at all, but he found at that moment the only person whose judgment he feared was hers, and that didn’t come. The acceptance he felt instead was like another layer of intoxication. None of the bar patrons seemed to be listening to them, likely because many of them had come to the bar with the goal of forgetting the things they’d seen and heard that they couldn’t or didn’t want to explain and weren’t looking to add to their burdens. Still, for her sake, he leaned in closer and kept his voice low as he nodded “Sisters can be formidable creatures.” The flames that sparked from her hand were uncomfortably warm in such close proximity to his, but he didn’t back away from them. “I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of one on the path to retribution.” He searched her eyes for some hint of what she was thinking, planning before deciding it didn’t matter. He already knew if she asked for his help with this he’d agree, details be damned. He wouldn’t be able to back down from the chance to help another sister, to do it better this time. “I’d stand by your side though,” The werewolf assured her, doing his best to keep her steady in his vision, to imprint the promise in his mind even after his sobriety returned. “If you needed me to.” 

Locking eyes with Ulfric, Luce watched the way he leaned in. “Yeah. Yeah, they can be.” She said, smothering the flames with her palm, choking the blue flames out. She could feel the heat against her palm, but like all fire, it didn't burn. A part of her wondered what it would feel like, to burn like that. But, it never happened. The flames didn’t bite against her skin, they never went against her. At his words, she took another long sip of beer as she mulled over his offer. “Thanks, Ulf. But… I’ve got it covered.” She said, a smile curling on her lips, cold and cruel. “The motherfucker who did this, he’s going to wish he’d never even thought about coming after my family.” August. She’d held him in her hands, threatened to melt the skin from his face, had come so close to killing him… Next time, she wouldn’t hold back. Next time, he would know just how badly he’d fucked up by setting that hunter on her family. Luce let out a long sigh, she looked at him. “Same goes for you. With… Ariana’s situation. If you need help, if she needs help-- just say the word. I’ll do whatever I can to help. No one should lose a sister.” No one should feel the pain she did.

“I don’t doubt it, on both counts,” Ulfric told her, picking up on the determination in her tone, but not the iciness that might have given him pause if he had a clearer head. “You’ve got a deal.” He tapped his knuckles against her shoulder lightly in lieu of shaking her hand that had only recently stopped sparking, before tipping his glass to her and drinking deep to seal the new arrangement. Sinking bonelessly back into his seat he hummed, mulling over their conversation and the unexpected turns it had taken. “Hmm, all this talk of revenge makes me feel…” He searched his addled brain for a way to describe the sense of unfulfilled emptiness that had settled into his gut. “Hungry. Buffalo wings? Yes, buffalo wings.” He asked and answered his own question without pausing for breath, certain that was the solution. “I’m buying.”

[divineluce]

The Champs || Frank & Luce

Timing: Flashback to August

Location: Soul on the Rocks & Al’s

Tagging: @frankmulloy & @divineluce

Description: New to the job, Frank gets to know one of the regulars. Luce is as charming as ever.

Warnings: Alcoholism

There was nothing particularly distinguishing about being one of many of White Crest’s bartenders, but Frank has learned that being one who knew how to handle Soul’s more rambunctious crowds afforded him a degree of influence, and that was even without the use of his pheromones. He also learned that Soul’s patrons would sooner bend under a firm fist than a kind word--of course a kind word from him was a force within its own right, so it was just as well that he was just as competent in wielding the former. Unfortunately for Frank, he liked the use of neither, and the result was a bartender who mostly communicated through monosyllabic grunts, and lost more fights than won them. But he kept coming back for his shift the following night with no complaints and no apparent scrapes or bruises and while his pacifist method served him ill in a brawl, he always got the troublemakers out, so they kept him on. As long as they kept paying him, Frank was happy to stay on. 

It was Frank’s second week into the job, but as far as anyone was concerned he was a regular fixture in the beer-soaked tapestry of Soul on the Rocks. In return Frank was also starting to recognise common faces; who was there for a drink, who was there for a fight, and who wasn’t meant to be there at all, then there was Creepy-Joe, and finally coming to the conclusion that Jake was a massive tool. His first memory of one, Luce, was not what she looked like, but of heat. Literally. And Frank, perpetually cold, was like a moth to  flame, conscious of his distance and yet unable to help himself all the same-- heat, and the stink of cheap tequila. He put another shot glass down in front of her, which was an anomaly in itself considering Frank never got near enough to anyone to actually put their order down in front of them, but rather slid it to them across the bar top from a safe distance of at least 6 feet. “Your fifth shot...or is it your seventh? Who’s keeping count.” He wiped his hands down on the towel that was draped over his shoulder. “You sure that’s wise?”

Like so many other nights before her, Luce had been looking to get fucked up the night she’d walked into Soul. After all the shit she’d been through, with the Ring, with Remmy and Erin and Adam and her sister… The horrible, terrifying fucking conversation she’d had with Nadia, or rather, whoever was controlling Nadia’s body. And, as the final garbage cherry on top of it all, they’d been excommunicated. The threat of death at the hands of some of the women she trusted most, at the hands of her mother? It had shaken her up. Their mother had done… so fucking little to keep them safe. She’d abandoned them, banished them, went along with the whims of the goddamn council. And, on top of it all, there was all the normal shit. She was hauling ass all day, every day, trying to stay afloat. Bills had been coming in non stop and it was all she could do to keep her head afloat. After getting out of a particularly long session of tattooing, Luce had headed straight for Soul on the Rocks. She needed alcohol. Lots and lots of fucking alcohol.

Waving a hand at the bartender-- a new guy, she’d seen him around a few times, but never paid much attention to him-- Luce took the shot with a nod. But, his question made her pause and Luce stared at him over the rim of the small glass. Glancing at him blearily, she stared at the shot glass full of tequila. Fifth or seventh was a good question. But fuck him for asking. “Not me.” She said, tipping the liquid down her throat. It hardly burned, but alcohol never really did. Perks of being a fire witch. Swallowing, she set the empty glass back on the bar and stared at him. “Do they pay you to ask if people’s drinking habits are wise?” She replied. 

He met her drunken gaze with his own measured one, undaunted and undeterred. Yet there was a softness that blunted the edge; the good intention behind a stern word, though Frank was never great at dishing out the latter either. He answered her blunt edge in the way he did with most harsh words: an untiring patience and sometimes even a smile. This time, it was a slight upward tilt to the corner of his mouth, as he relieved her of the empty shot glass. “No. They pay me to kick people out when they’ve had one too many, but I like to give them the courtesy of asking before I start lugging bodies out.” Well that sounded horrifically ominous. “Alive bodies. Obviously. Just unconscious--most of them are passed out by the time I get them into a cab.” Frank said with some good-humour, a trace of a chuckle on each word in the hopes of easing the slip of the tongue that was more menacing than he meant. “It’s a lot easier for everyone concerned if I just walk them out instead of carrying them, and it helps the driver find the right building when they’re awake enough to give the right address.”

Frank had his head tilted to one side, quietly observing the woman that sat in front of him. He recognised her to be a regular, he also noted that she seemed off today. Albeit an easy conclusion to make for anyone that used Soul as their regular haunt. Tonight she looked like she brought a history with her and it was etched across her brow, and in her eyes, in a silent language he was not versed in reading. The temptation was to ask if she was alright, but at the risk of making himself over-familiar, he said instead, “should I be getting a cab ready?”

Rubbing the back of her neck, Luce let out a long sigh. Her fucking neck hurt from spending so long hunched over at the table. The piece had turned out great, just like all her work, but christ. It’d been five long hours of nothing but tattooing. So, a drink or five was what she’d wanted. Not some random bartender getting up in her business. “Lugging bodies, huh? Did I step into the funeral home on accident? This tequila or formaldehyde you’re pouring?” She joked, her words running together just a bit as she spoke. Shrugging, she sighed. Either way, it didn’t really matter much to her. She just wanted to get the fuck out of her head, at least for a little bit. And, with Nadia definitely not an option and Remmy… even less of one, Luce had gone for the old stand by. Alcohol. “Fair. Probably works out for the uber driver too.”

At his words, Luce shook her head. “I’m good.” She said, stubbornness apparent in her voice. She wasn’t dumb enough to drive-- she wasn’t interested in wrapping her 4x4 around a tree and having to deal with more fucking bills. But, she wasn’t ready to go back to Bea’s house just yet. Bea was never there anymore and Nell… who the fuck knew where Nell was most nights. Which meant that Luce would be alone. No, she wasn’t interested in going back to that place, the house that felt more like mausoleum than a home. 

“A funeral home is probably a lot cleaner for one,” Frank said, wiping a spill off the bar top as he does. In fairness, you need only step inside of the pub and he was sure that his point was made on first impression, and she seemed comfortable enough in her seat to suggest that she was a frequent patron of the establishment (that information alone had a whole story to itself). He was asked once why he bothered to clean the place up after the close if it was just going to end up being exactly as it was the following night. His answer was something along the lines of: he was more concerned with what the place might look like if he didn’t clean it up at all. “And if you can’t smell the difference between tequila and formaldehyde, let alone taste it, you are a lot more drunk than I thought.” There was a pause. “I mean...not that I would know what formaldehyde tastes like but I would imagine that it is significantly worse than tequila. Like, cancer-level bad. I would assume.” And this is where you shut up Frank. And fortunately for everyone, he does. Her reply hinted at a stubbornness that was both inherent and unyielding, and Frank’s been in enough fight to recognise those that he wasn’t going to win. Of course, that never stopped him from trying either.

 “Look,” he began, the single phrase intermingling with his exhalation until they became one, “I don’t know you. Obviously. So you do whatever you want. But I’m just saying, I’ve served people enough tequila shots to know that the solution to your problem—whatever that is—isn’t going to be found at the bottom of the fifth or seventh or fifteenth shot.” He concluded by collecting any abandoned and empty glasses, loading them onto a plastic tub to be brought out to the kitchen. “But like I said, you do whatever you want.” 

Snorting at the man’s joke, Luce’s expression sobered slightly at the thought of Erin. She didn’t know the funeral home attendant well, but she was very aware of the last conversation they’d had. Fuck. “I’d hope so.” She gestured to the stains on the bartop, the familiar wear on the wood grain, the slightly ripped and faded stools next to her. “Can you imagine a fucking wake in here?” She said with a slight curl of her lip. As the man continued to talk, she quirked an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Sure you haven’t.” She replied before running a hand through her hair. She fucking… didn’t want to deal with the world outside the doors of Soul. For now, she could just sit and pretend like nothing was happening. She could joke and drink and push aside all the stupid fucking feelings and responsibilities that weighed down on her.

But, this shitty fucking bartender just kept talking. Talked about how drinking wasn’t gonna help her-- like Luce didn’t already know that. It wasn’t about helping her, or finding answers. It was about forgetting. Glaring at him, she drummed her tattooed fingers on the wooden bartop, her skin burning hot with simmering anger. “Yeah, you don’t know me,” She paused, the alcohol flowing through her system making her head spin slightly. Squinting at him, she shook her head. “Who the fuck even are you? Shit, I’d rather deal with Creepy Joe instead of some Pop Psychology bro.” She said with a grimace.

Frank took in her anger with a calm appraisal as he continued to dry the newly cleaned glasses with practiced efficiency. While most would reasonably shrink from the fire, he was almost somehow more drawn to it. Like moth to flame—quite literally, it felt as if heat was just pouring out of her in waves. He could not pinpoint exactly when this happened but his 6 foot rule had been abandoned and Frank was now standing close enough that he could touch her. He just needed to take his hand away from the glass, reach out across the bar, and touch her. Boy did he want to, and he almost did, but then she shook her head. Frank found himself almost doing the same as his attention was snapped back into reality and his focus was drawn back to the intensity of her glare. He took a conscious step back and realised with overwhelming awareness how much he did not want to. “Fair enough.” He resigned with a nod. He looked around. A quiet spell had settled over the bar, and the threat of a brawl was distant enough that if he was quick he could probably get away with ducking out the side door for a couple of minutes. He grabbed the towel from the shoulder and tossed it aside, from his jacket pocket he produced a small white cigarette packet.

“Keep drinking then, see if that helps you, I’m sure Joe wouldn’t mind the company. I’m going for some air.” An invitation could be heard in there somewhere; Frank was seldom ever cordial enough to properly extend the invitation…or any invitation. “Do whatever the fuck you want. You’re right. I don’t know you.”

What the fuck was up with this guy? He was leaning across the bar and, maybe the alcohol was messing with her depth perception, but he seemed way too close. Luce pushed back in her seat, just to get a bit of space between her and the bartender. But, he seemed to realize that he was being a fucking creep and backed off himself. Good, she didn’t feel like throwing hands with someone tonight. For one, she wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to do, the alcohol clouding her vision and loosening her hold on the fire magic that dwelled within her. For another, she’d had… enough of fucking fighting lately. She just wanted to drink and sit and not think about all the shit that’d been going on in her life.

“Yeah, you don’t fucking know me.” Luce repeated. The bar wasn’t as busy as it usually was, but her anger had her blood boiling in a literal way. It was too goddamn hot in here. And fuck it, if this guy was going to be bartending at Soul, she might as well try and talk to him. Even if he was weird. The same could be said of most people in the bar, and of her too. Sliding off the barstool, Luce steadied herself on the bar for a moment has her vision swam. “But air sounds like a smart idea.” She said, more to herself than to him. Walking out of the bar, the cool night air washed over her. Thank fuck summer was over and done with. “Need a light?” She asked, leaning against the brick wall of the bar.

It seemed Frank’s entire existence was damned to fight his most basic instincts: to hand his customers their drinks, to close his distance when he was with friends (to have friends), to help steady a stranger who has had one too many drinks and was maybe not as steady on her feet as she first thought. Even as she swayed Frank did not so much as stir, even as every part of him itched to. He let her out first, following behind at a measured distance. “Look at that, a solution to your problem that isn’t alcohol.” He grinned around the stick of cigarette as he brought it to his mouth, “but what the fuck do I know.”  

The air was cool, and with the door closed behind him he was acutely aware of how warm she felt, even at his distance. He made home against a wall a little ways down from her, shaking his head at her offer with a polite thanks, “I’m good,” and he had to be. Mostly because if he wasn’t, that was an invitation for her to come closer, to hand him the lighter, and then for him to hand it back, and that was altogether too many hands for comfort. Frank didn’t smoke for the taste. He didn’t care much for the nicotine either. Like the alcohol, it never lingered long enough in his system to become a proper addiction, but with every inhalation of the hot smoke that was a few more precious moments between him and the undeniable hunger to feed, whether it was happiness or heat. Prolonging the inevitable, as he liked to call it. Not that he ever told anyone why he smoked, most of them were more interested in telling him why he should stop. Frank wasn’t interested in doing either. “So what is your problem?” He said finally, turning to face his new smoking companion, “you were downing your seventh tequila shot in a span of less than an hour in one of the biggest shit-holes in town. That could not have been an inspiring journey.”

“My solution to my problems so far,” Luce let out sigh, her breath coming out in visible trails in the mild fall night, “Have been paying the bills for you. So…. you should be thanking me.” She muttered as she pressed her back against the wall a bit more firmly. Her legs felt like jelly under her, courtesy of the tequila that ran through her system, as well as the run she’d taken earlier that morning. Running. She’d always liked running, but it felt like that was all she was doing now. Wake up, run, work, drink, and then collapse into bed, to try and snag a few fitful hours of sleep if she was lucky. And if she wasn’t lucky, she’d run and run and run until she was too tired to do anything else.

At his question, Luce glanced over at the man for a long minute before shaking her head. “Oh you know. The usual.” Being kicked out of her coven for resurrecting her sister from beyond the grave, nearly dying herself. “Family drama.” The fact that one of the women she’d been sleeping with had been possessed by a ghost, hell-bent on keeping her body. The fact that the other was a zombie who just kept getting themselves in fucking trouble? “Some people I care about have a knack for getting into trouble.” How she was so goddamn tired all the time? Well, that one she didn’t have to lie about. “Insomnia. Take your pick. All of them are good reasons to drink in the biggest shithole in this town.” She corrected. The Ritz Soul was not. 

“Right,” Frank’s mouth shaped into a smirk. A gesture accompanied by a faint laugh that almost, to perceptive ears at least, sounded like a scoff, “yours and everyone else’s in that damn bar.” The solution to most of Soul’s patrons, it seemed, was found either at the bottom of a glass or at the end of a fist, the former was usually a lot less messy. Neither seemed to make anyone any happier come day light. It was a temporary salve to a much deeper wound, and they come back the next night, and the ritual repeats itself again. Frank was no stranger to this particular practice and so, it seemed, was she.

Frank gave the woman a long, appraising look, as she proceeded to divulge the source of her problems. It was as vague as it was short, its details hidden by their unfamiliarity. He didn’t blame her, and a part of him wondered whether it was in his best interest to find out. Probably not. Distance, advised caution. He took a long drag of his cigarette, comforted by the warmth, and eased of his awareness of hers. She looked so tired—more than that, she felt tired. There was plenty of heat (strangely) but with his own cravings temporarily satisfied by the cigarette, there was not much happiness to be attempted by. He could feel the ache in her bones, the very weight of. He recognised it in himself. “Hmm,” his eyes returned to hers, attentive and empathetic. Oh he tried so hard to be hard, but he was always very bad at it, and worse at following his own advice. “You want a burger or something?”  He said very suddenly. “You look like you could use a burger.”

“Well, means business is booming for you.” Luce said glancing back into the bar through the dirty windows, her head listing as her body tilted just a bit more than she expected. Stumbling slightly, she caught herself on the wall. Her elbow smacked into her side, and she let out an involuntary yelp, “Siktir, motherfucker…” She mumbled, rubbing her side. Fuck, her head was spinning, the wall felt like it was shifting behind her back. And unless there was some new kind of fucked up wall monster that was going to… what, absorb her into the wall? No, she’d just drank too much. Again. It seemed like more mornings than not, she’d woken up with a foul taste in her mouth and started the morning with a few aspirin. Christ.

As the man looked over at her, Luce felt her lips tighten into a thin line. There was something she didn’t like about the way he looked at her. It felt like the way that people had talked to her when she’d revealed that Bea had died. Something halfway between pity and judgement, was what she would guess. And she didn’t really fucking want either. But, at the mention of food, her stomach growled loudly. Her stomach didn’t have the same reservations, apparently. “You know what? Sure. Why the fuck not, it’d be a quick walk. Al’s isn’t far from here.” She said, before remembering. Al’s. Celeste, she’d worked there before... Remmy, they’d had that conversation where they told her what they were in a booth tucked in the corner of the diner. Fuck. Maybe not Al’s. That’s what she wanted to say, but now her lips remained stubbornly shut. 

“Al’s it is.” Frank smiled. It was pleasant. Amicable. It was a smile that might have come paired with an offer of a hand to shake or an equally pleasant gesture, but since it didn’t (it never does) Frank had become practiced in making it so that a smile was just enough. Not that he got much use out of this particular skill. Most people couldn’t even get the slightest hint of an upward lift let alone a fully realised smile. Maybe it was his off day. Maybe because when he looked at how tired she looked he saw a reflection of himself. Whatever it was, it remained there as he pushed himself off the wall, extinguishing the last of his cigarette under his boot. Kindness was in short supply in a place like Soul, and this served as a good reminder that Frank was not the place he worked at. Which reminded him—“oh and by the way, when you say business is booming for me, you do realise that just because I serve the drinks there, doesn’t mean I actually run the place, right?”

The walk, as she remarked, was blissfully short, and quiet. This served Frank just fine considering he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, even if his previous insistence might suggest otherwise. She also seemed absent, as if occupied by distant memories, he didn’t need to see the downward tilt of her mouth to know that they weren’t pleasant, he could sense it. He could also sense that no talking, at least on his part, was going to make anything better, although some carbs to soak up some of the seven tequila shots she’d knocked back in the few short hours might. Thankfully Al’s didn’t host a great many customers in the early hours of the morning. “Get a booth,” he told her, which shouldn’t be any hardship considering only one or two were currently occupied, “and get whatever you want. You look like you could use it...no offense.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m familiar with the dickhead who owns Soul.” Luce replied as she made her way down the sidewalk, her feet stumbling slightly as she walked. It was fine. This was fine. The way the world was rotating around her, the way the pavement seemed to rise and fall like cresting waves? Totally fucking fine. She was good. So fucking good. Just another fucking day. “You’re a bartender. Tips. More people, more tips. I know half the guys in that bar and they tip just fine when I work on them.” She said, the words coming out in more of an innuendo than she intended. “Tattoos.” She explained, gesturing to the dark ink that covered both of her arms. “I do tattoos.”

As they entered the diner, Luce looked around at the place-- it wasn’t all that busy, which was good in its own way. “Don’t tell me what to do.” She growled before deliberately walking over to the counter and settling down there. Across the way, Luce heard a startled cough and, before she knew what was going on, a young man had tossed a twenty on the counter and was hurrying out of the door. She spun around in the plastic seat, scrutinizing the man as he hurried away. The light of the diner caught on his face as he opened the door of his car and Luce’s stomach lurched. Will. One of the members of the coven-- her mom’s coven, the coven that had… “Fuck.” She muttered, shaking her head doggedly. She wished she was back at the bar. As the waitress cast a skeptical look at her, Luce quirked a crooked smile. “I’d like a number five. Extra fries. And a large water, please.” As the bartender sat next to her, Luce cast him a long look. “I’m paying for this myself.” She didn’t need his charity.

Frank grinned, but his laughter remained stifled, the only hint of its existence was in the silent vibration of his entire frame. Tips. At Soul on the Rocks. Now that was a joke. “Right, see…Soul is known for a lot of things, but never for their generosity, especially when it comes to tipping their bartenders.” This was not entirely fair. Of course Frank could, as she did, work on them. Being what he was, he could have probably completed the task with even greater success, and with the profits to prove it. Alas, that was never Frank’s style. In his short time working there, he had already created an image of himself as the grumpy new bartender that would sooner bite your hand off than shake it. This was not an accurate assessment of his character by half, though it had more truth in it than Frank pretending to be pleasant and charming. He was bad at it, and he didn’t have the taste for it to try and be better. He turned to her arm as she gestured toward it. “It looks nice.”

Her sharp demand elicited an amused grin as she pushed past him toward the counter. He might have said something, a smart ass reply already half way formed on his tongue, were it not for another stealing his attention. A young man, his plate and drink unfinished, tossed some notes on the counter and hurried out. Strange. More interesting still was the woman’s reaction. They knew each other, more than that, there was a history there. Very strange.  Alas, Frank said nothing on this, but noted it quietly as he pulled up a seat next to her (respectably distanced, of course). “She’s paying for herself, and I’ll have a black coffee. Thank you.” He said, handing over what he owed. The waitress accepted it with a very pretty smile. Frank acknowledged this with a single nod and did not notice the string of numbers scribbled on the back of the receipt, and what was most likely her name followed by the letter ‘x’. The coffee was the first to arrive, blissfully hot. He took a ginger sip, not because he was bothered by the heat, but normal humans weren’t usually as tolerant to scalding hot coffee as he was. “Odd reaction,” he murmured around the rim of the cup. His head tilted ever so slightly in the direction of the waitress who was just now collecting the bill left behind by the mysterious man. Or perhaps not so mysterious if the woman’s reaction was anything to go by, “a friend of yours?” He paused for a moment, “or maybe not so friendly?”

As the man explained his situation, Luce nodded in thanks as the waitress set a large glass of water in front of her. Forgoing the straw, she took a long drink of ice water, the temperature soberingly cold. Well, not sobering, she thought to herself as she regarded the slightly slanting walls of the diner. “You could always go for the ‘grin and bear it’ tactic.” She said, pressing her finger into her cheek and twisting it, offering a fake smile she reserved for her mother and particularly stupid clients. “You could try asking the boss-man to throw on a “Hey, if I’m gonna be an extra bouncer, pay me like one” bonus. Or don’t, whatever. It’s your wallet on the line.” At his comment about her tattoos, she nodded. “I know. I designed them.” It wasn’t a brag, not really, just statement of fact. She did her own shit and she was good at it. That was her whole MO, right? She stayed in her lane and did what she was good at.

Watching the way the girl cast a bright, beaming smile, Luce rolled her eyes. Did this guy think he was some kind of player? But, if he was, he didn’t comment on the receipt. He didn’t even really talk about it. Instead, he gestured towards the seat the Will had previously been sitting at. Scowling at the ice cubes in her glass, Luce’s knuckles flexed around the glass. “Family friend. Bit of a shit, but that’s how it goes.” She muttered, thinking back to August. He’d been a family friend, before he’d decided to come for her sisters. And now, he wasn’t much of anything at all. She could still remember the way he’d fallen to his knees, how he’d willingly submitted himself to Lydia’s commands. A shudder ran down her spine and she took another drink from her glass. “What’s your deal, huh? You like being some kinda… bartender Superman or something?” She asked, glancing over at him.

The twisted smile that warped around her mouth, strangely enough, inspired a more genuine one to shape around his own. “Yeah, the whole fake-it-till-you-make-it thing isn’t really my m-o.” Sure he could be reserved and withdrawn—cold and severe were a few more of the choice descriptors that people often had assigned to Frank. He could be a lot of bad things but one could never say that Frank was ever disingenuous. As much as he might speak ill of his work, which he does when he was ever in the rare position of wanting to speak at all, he’d rather it be him than another person who might be more liberal in using the end of their own knuckles to finish a fist fight. Even, as she rightfully pointed out, if it was his wallet on the line.

Her knuckles tightened around the glass, and her words bit into an old memory—an old wound. A small gesture, a small shift in tone, but neither went past Frank’s notice. Probably best if he kept that particular observation to himself, and he does. “Right. That’s how it goes.” Translation: sore subjection, duly noted. She sought comfort in her glass of water, and he continued to nurse the heat out of his cup of coffee, looking up only when she spoke again. An amused smile flitted across his lips, half hidden by the mug as he lifted it to his mouth, as he mentally traded his wings for a red cape, and his jacket for a blue costume with a giant S on it. He looked fucking ridiculous. “I don’t like being anything, I just want to do my job, get paid, and get the fuck home. Frankly if your standard for Superman is breaking up drunk bar fights, then it is tragically low. Besides,” he took another drink of his coffee and put it back down. It formed a wet brown ring around the receipt, he noticed for the first time black ink stains peering through the damp ring, but didn't bother investigating further, instead returned to the thought at hand, “you’re the one sitting next to me, what does that say about you?”

“You do you. Like I said, it’s your paycheck.” Luce shrugged. She didn’t give a shit, it was this guy’s loss either way. Didn’t affect her any, as long as he kept pouring her drinks. And, given how many she’d had at Soul, he didn’t seem to have a problem with that. The waitress slid her plate in front of her, a large burger with a mountain of fries on the side. “Thanks. Could I get more water, please? ‘preciate it.” Luce said before taking a large bite from her burger. As fucked up as she was, she wasn’t gonna be a fucking dick to people who were just trying to do their job. Which meant the waitress. But, Superman here? Different story. He at least had the sense to drop the fucking topic of Will. “Mhm.”

Glancing over at him, she raised an eyebrow. Swallowing her mouthful of food, Luce replied thickly, “That’s bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.” She pointed at him with a fry. “You just wanna do your job and go home? Unless you’re working double shifts between here and Soul, this,” She gestured to the two of them, “seems pretty fucking off the clock to me.” Luce said before popping the fry in her mouth.  Lifting her now full glass of water to her lips, she shook her head. “It says I’m drunk on a Wednesday night and I need more carbs. Needed.” She deflected, looking at her already half-empty plate. “I guess you were right about the burger.” 

Frank took a sip from his coffee, his eyebrow cocked up from behind the mug in a silent answer to her accusation. He didn’t say anything for a moment, mostly because he wasn’t sure how to, which probably meant that to a certain degree, she was right. Of course, just because he knew she was right, didn’t mean that he also knew the answer to why he did the things he did. Why he warned her against that seventh shot, why he invited her out for a smoke, why he would’ve probably paid for her burger too had she let him. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to find answers tonight. That was what he paid his shrink to figure out and then tell him about it so he could ignore it completely. Because caring for someone else was just too fucking hard sometimes. Caring for himself infinitely so. “Mhm.” Another sip from his coffee.

“I know.” She had positively tore through her burger. Frank exhaled a short, barely formed, chuckle. “I’m really good at my job.” She was also not the first drunk he’s had to deal with. Although, speaking of jobs, he also had his actual job to return to. Someone was bound to have noticed his absence by now…or not. It was Soul they were talking about after all. He finished the last of his coffee, scrunched up the napkin with the receipt and then dropped it into the now empty mug. He took out his phone from his pocket, pushed it across the space between them and drew his hand back. “Do yourself a favour, call a cab. Spare yourself that eighth shot and call it a night. If you’re lucky you might even hate yourself a little less in the morning.”

“Sounds like it.” Luce said as her eating began to slow, picking at her fries. Grudgingly, she had to admit that this guy had a point. He’d called her out on how fucked up she was. And, though the room still shifted around her, was still fuzzy at the edges, it was better than it had been. The water and food was making all the difference. As the waitress left her receipt on the counter, Luce glanced over at the tall bartender. Soul wasn’t a nametag kind of establishment and she hadn’t bothered to ask his name when she’d rolled up to the bar and ordered shot after shot. “What’s your name, anyways? I’m Luce.” She said, sticking out her hand. At his advice, Luce let out a small snort. A cab? What, and go back to Bea’s house? The house her sister hardly even stayed in any more? With all of it’s baggage and it’s memories and quiet, cold stillness? No fucking thanks. She was gonna crash on the couch at Ink Inc and call it a night there. But, Mr. Superman Bartender Bro didn’t need to know that. “You’re not wrong about calling it a night. Jury's still out on the hating myself bit.” She mused, the last sentence coming out of her mouth without her intending to.

“Frank.” He said, but didn’t take her hand. He almost did. The smoke and the coffee had offered some relief but it did little to distract from the fact that she was still very very warm, and never once did the awareness of her heat escape his notice. His hand hung awkwardly for a split second, unable to touch her but unwilling to pull away. He let his hand fall in the end, but by then the split second was a split second too long, though he managed to cover it by pushing the phone further toward her, as if he was meant to do that all along. He drew his hand back very quickly, and wrapped it around his coffee mug, clinging to any heat that may still be lingering. Jesus H, he always fucking hungry.

Frank could sense that her thoughts were not meant to have formed into words, and even as she said them, it didn’t look as if she realised that she did. That the guard that she had maintained through harsh words and sarcasm had cracks in them, and tender thoughts were slipping through, and she didn’t notice. Perhaps she was more drunk than he thought. Alternatively, maybe she was sobering up, and sobriety was a tiring thing to have to deal with. Frank doesn’t say anything, but he noticed. And now, she wasn’t just some drunk woman he would have sent home on a cab and forgotten about until the next night she came stumbling back into Soul (the way she spoke about it, it was obvious that she was a regular), she had a name. Names were powerful things, and terribly intimate. Frank squeezed his eyes shut, ran a hand over his face. “Or…I could drop you off. If you would like.”

“Frank.” Luce repeated. The name suited him. Short, to the point, and… well, frank. For a second, he left her hanging, as though he didn’t want to touch her hand but then seemed to think better of it. He nudged his phone closer to her which was fucking… Weird. He couldn’t just hand it to her like a normal fucking person. Shaking her head, she pulled her hand back from his and pushed it into her jacket pocket, pulling out her own phone. “It’s not the 90’s, I’ve got a phone of my own. I don’t need you to call anyone.” She growled, though the words lacked their usual bite. At this point, she was just tired. Tired of this town, tired of the well-intentioned people who kept trying to help her, and tired of the fact that she couldn’t do anything to change any of that. As he offered to drop her off, Luce scowled at him as she tossed a bill onto the counter. He really was trying to play that “Knight in shining armor” card, wasn’t he? First his phone, now a ride? 

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, Luce stood up from the counter. “I think the fuck not. Listen, you seem like a decent enough guy, which is why I’m just gonna say, you’re barking up the wrong tree here.” She said, shaking her head. “Trust me, this is nicer treatment than what Jake got when he made a move on me the first time.”

Luce’s reaction was not an uncommon one. The registering of rejection as they realised he would not answer their offer of a handshake with his own, the confusion that inevitably followed because what person was that much of a dick to refuse a simple handshake? Sometimes even outright offence because who the fuck does he think he is? The corner of Frank’s mouth twitched. Perhaps he should attempt an encouraging smile. Jesus H. He had done this a hundred times before yet it never became any less tedious. For his efforts it seemed, rather predictably if her prior behaviour around him was of any indication, she seemed to follow the ‘outright offense’ route as she growled her reply. He thought it wisest to not add acid to fire and opted to silently pocket his phone instead, wondering all the while why he even tried in the first place. Why he kept trying.

She stood up. Very suddenly. He’d thought he was being kind, but clearly Frank wasn’t very good at it. He was silent at first and then, with a start, the weight of what she’d said came flying back to him. “Oh! Ohhh…no. I mean—” He stifled a laugh and it came out as a choked cough. Frank pressed a hand to his face and shook his head, a smile visible between his fingers as his shoulders quivered through a silent laugh. He should be offended that she had made the comparison with him to Jake of all people, but it seemed fatigue had imbued the whole misunderstanding with a strange sort of amusement where there usually wouldn’t be any. “Yes ma'am,” he said once he had recovered some degree of solemnity, “duly noted.”

[humanmoodring-retired]

Scrying Over You || Luce & Nadia

TIMING: Current  LOCATION: Luce’s Bedroom PARTIES: @divineluce and @humanmoodring  SUMMARY: Luce peers through the looking glass, and a familiar face peers back.

Focus on the fire. Focus on the flame, on the energy. It lived inside her, it was within her, she could do this she could-- Luce’s eyes flicked open and she stared at the wall of her room, irritation growing. The candle before her sat, untouched. Unlit. Unburning. “Fuck’s sake.” She swore angrily and swiped the candle off her bed. It rolled along the wood flooring and she caught Iggy staring at her from his terrarium, orange eyes reproving. “Sorry.” She apologized to her familiar, running her hands through her hair. She was just so fucking frustrated. Her magic, it didn’t feel right, none of it felt right. She couldn’t sense the flames that lived within her, she couldn’t feel the way they burned in her chest. They were still there, but it was as though they’d been sealed off from her. And if she didn’t have her fire, she didn’t have… anything.

Moisture welled up in the corners of her eyes and Luce swiped at her eyes, ashamed. Here she was, fucking crying because her fire wasn’t listening, when she should be focused on getting her shit together. She reached into her bag, fumbling around for the pack of tissues she kept. As she did, her hand brushed against the silver compact, the scrying mirror she kept on her. It wasn’t her magic, it had been charmed by someone in the coven that had banished her from their ranks. So maybe, maybe it would be different. Taking a deep breath, Luce shut her eyes and focused her magic. She wanted to see… Remmy. She wanted to know that they were okay, in the wake of everything that had happened, even if she couldn’t bring herself to see them in person. She just wanted to know that they were okay. Because she cared. Because she cared for them.

So, Nadia was used to losing time. It was kind of a given, being incorporeal. If she wasn’t existing in the moment, then she kind of wasn’t existing at all. Which was terrifying! But she’d never just lost time during the middle of doing something. She’d been with Blanche, hanging out in her apartment and trying not to think about the exorcism looming on the horizon. Then, she blinked, and somehow she’d made her way to Luce. Which, embarrassingly, wasn’t new. She’d taken to checking in on people when she could, usually during the day while they were going about their lives. Making sure that Kaden was alright when he was doing animal control patrols, checking in on Arthur while he was doing desk work on campus, visiting Evelyn at the Artesian, occasionally watching Luce while she worked at the tattoo parlor. She never went home with them, though, trying to avoid the breach in privacy. Yet, here she was, in Luce’s room. Maybe this was an upgraded form of sleepwalking. It was scary, that she’d somehow advanced to wandering away while in the middle of doing something. She frowned, looking at Luce and the way she was crying, and Nadia wanted to scream over the fact that she couldn’t do anything about anything. Instead, she stepped a bit closer, looking down at the little mirror in Luce’s hand. Then she jerked back as, for the first time in what felt like forever, she saw her reflection.

Luce just wanted this to work. Even if fire was refusing to listen to her, she couldn’t be losing touch with her magic. She couldn’t-- that sort of thing didn’t happen. Witches just didn’t lose their magic like that. She felt a sudden wave of cold rush over the metal of the mirror in her hand and her eyes flicked open, suddenly hopeful. She expected to see Remmy with Moose in their room at the Haunted Mansion, curled up with their dog. Or maybe with Morgan or Blanche or one of their other friends. Instead, a pair of hazel eyes stared at her from a face that was all too painfully familiar. Nadia. Flinching, Luce shook her head. She hadn’t meant to look for her, hadn’t focused the magic there. She’d already run into that bitch at the art store. She’d had enough of seeing her laugh and gloat and twist the lips that Luce had once kissed into a cruel sneer. Luce didn’t want to see her here, in the reflection of her mirror, against the backdrop of--

“Wait. Wait a second.” Luce leaned in, focusing on the mirror, staring at the background. That was… her painting on the wall. The painting that hung over her bed. That was her nightstand, a forgotten coffee mug resting on a coaster. “Nadia?” She whispered before turning around. But, she was only greeted by empty air.

It wasn’t Nadia’s appearance that freaked her out so much, though she’d definitely seen better days. It was the fact that she saw herself, that she even had a fucking reflection, that caused Nadia to check herself over, see if she could feel anything. She ended up sticking her hand through Luce’s bed, and the realization that she wasn’t actually there was crushing, even though she didn’t know what else she’d expected. Of course she wasn’t there, of course she hadn’t somehow gotten her life back without having to go through another exorcism. That would have been too easy. But the sound of her name caused Nadia’s head to snap up. “Luce?” she said, trying not to get hopeful because she knew Luce couldn’t see her. She knew that. But the other woman was looking at her in the mirror, and then when Luce whipped around to face her, Nadia could have sworn her eyes passed over her. “Luce?” She walked closer, slowly, so fucking slowly. “Can you-- Are you-- Luce?”

For a moment, Luce stood there in stunned silence. She’d seen Nadia in the reflection of the scrying mirror, something that shouldn’t have been possible. A scry could only show you an image of something or someone that was tangible and here, someone at a distance away. It couldn’t show you spirits, because they didn’t exist in the same way that people and things did. This… How was this possible? Staring back at the mirror, she did her best to angle it, trying to find Nadia in the small reflection. For a moment, there was nothing and then-- “Nadia.” She breathed. “It’s you, right? It’s really you? And not,” Luce paused, swallowing back the fury and pain that washed over her at the thought of the woman who’d stolen Nadia’s body, “not someone else?” She asked. As the reflection of the mirror passed over the woman’s face, she watched as Nadia’s lips moved. Luce heard a voice, crackling and soft, like it was coming through an ancient radio. And then, her name. A flicker of a smile spread across her lips and she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Oh my god, you can hear me,” Nadia breathed out. “And see me?” She questioned, eyebrows furrowed together as she took in her reflection in Luce’s tiny mirror. She could cry, but instead she ended up laughing, unable to properly understand what was going on. She’d kind of just accepted that, like this, there were only a few people that were going to be able to see her. Luce wasn’t one of those people, or she hadn’t been the last time Nadia had been around her. Though, Nadia wasn’t quite sure how long ago that had been, at this point. “Hi, it’s me. Or-- Yeah, I mean, it’s me.” Not in the flesh, though that might have been a good joke, if a bit morbid. She looked around Luce’s room, but not much had changed since the last time she was there, except Luce looked a lot sadder, and Nadia was lacking a body. “I don’t-- I definitely wasn’t here a few minutes ago. Or maybe longer than that? Time’s, like, fake.” Especially when one didn’t sleep or eat or breathe or any of the other things that had to be done to tell fucking time. “How-- Uh, are you, you know, doing alright?” What else was she supposed to say? Nadia didn’t even know how she got here. She wasn’t going to complain, though.

“Just in the mirror. It’s like-- you’re on one of those shitty walkie talkies though. But, it’s-- fuck. Fuck.” Luce swore, running her free hand through her hair as she stared at the small compact in her palm. “You’re here. You’re actually here.” She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry or… what the hell was someone supposed to do in this situation? There wasn’t exactly a chapter in the Ho-ing Handbook on what you were supposed to do when one of your not quite one-night stands got cast out of her body by a demented spirit. “My magic, well, no magic should be capable of doing this. Scrying, this sort of thing? It’s for looking at things that are far away, in a physical sense.” Shaking her head, Luce continued, “I’m not going to question it right now. You’re actually here.” At Nadia’s question, she let out a shaky breath. Was she doing alright? She could lie. She could lie and pretend that she was fine and that everything was fine. But… She was tired of lying. She was tired of pretending. “I’m not great. Everything’s been… a bit shitty. But, I think I’m preaching to the choir there.” Luce said with a tense attempt at a grin. “How about you? Are you--” Alright wasn’t the right word, how could she be anything close to alright? Nadia had been forced out of her body, she’d had her life stolen from her. Again. “How are you holding up?”

Nadia gave a small wave into the mirror. “You know what? I’ll fucking take it.” She’d give just about anything to be there in person, but this was-- Fine wasn’t the right word, but it was better than everything that had been going on for, like, months. She’d been possessed for months, and it was almost worse than being possessed for years. It was worse than being possessed for years because this time she had so much to lose. More to lose than she ever had before. And she kind of had lost a lot, more than she knew what to do with. But… at least she was there, even if she wasn’t, not really. “I’m here in spirit,” Nadia said, but her nonexistent heart wasn’t in the joke. She was more focused on what Luce was saying, and she glanced at the mirror, a scrying mirror, doing her best to remember what Luce was saying. “So is it normally used for looking at objects or people, or can it be used for both?” It was probably dumb, to be asking questions about mundane things when both of them were going through hell, but it was interesting, and it was something to focus on that wasn’t doom and gloom and the fact that her soul could get destroyed soon. “Shitty is… Yeah. Yeah. You were gone for awhile, too.” Maybe she was showing her hand with that, and she almost wanted to take it back. Luce had said she didn’t want anything serious, and keeping track of when the other left town wasn’t quite casual. Nadia was just… too relieved to be talking to her to care, though. “You know, I’m--” tired, scared, feeling useless. She went through the motion of running a hand through her hair and looked around the room. “I am not quite as dead as I appear.” She shot Luce a wry smile. “Not quite holding up, but definitely holding on.”

The laugh that came out of Luce’s mouth was more out of reflex than actual mirth. “I’d say that’s some gallows humor, but… feels a little soon.” She offered, words trailing off as she continued to stare at the compact. Nadia was really here. Luce had thought that when that woman had won the war in taking control of her body-- well, she’d assumed that Nadia’s soul had been lost. Gone, moved on, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. She’d thought that Nadia was dead. But, right here, there was proof that she wasn’t. At the other woman’s question, Luce nodded. “Not exactly. It’s used mostly for looking at people, animals. Objects, not so much. You need to have a strong connection to them for it to work-- the last time I used this, I was looking for Nell’s cat.” She said, the words sounding sillier than the reality of the situation. That had been the night at the pet hospital, when she’d gotten a call from a scared Nell. It felt like it had happened years ago. Would Nell even call her now, if something like that happened to Taki? Luce didn’t know the answer to that question, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

Shifting on the bed a bit, Luce’s movement caused a shadowy lump at the head of her bed to stir. Rhiannon peeked her head up, eyes blinking sleepily as she padded over. The cat butted her head against Luce’s side and the witch’s gaze flicked back to the mirror. “Hey. Hey, Rhiannon. Nadia’s here. Can you see her?” She asked, tilting the compact towards the cat as best she could. But, the cat flopped back down on the bed and fell back asleep without a second glance at her. “She misses you, I think.” Luce said, attention directed at the mirror again. I miss you too. She wanted to say that. Instead, she cleared her throat, “You knew I left town too, huh?”

“Well, I do have both feet in the grave. I think this goes a little farther than gallows humor, but, hey, I’m still here, so that’s a plus.” It was a bit morbid, but Nadia said it with a smile. Most days, she couldn’t stand being like this. Most days, she had little concept of what a day even was when she wasn’t around another person, a living, breathing person. But she was still here, and, really, nothing made a person overcome their fear of ghosts like actually being one. She moved a bit closer, staring into the mirror and more than a little fascinated with it. It was so weird to see herself again. It was a good reminder that she existed. “Well, apparently this one can look at ghosts. I’ll admit, finding a cat might be a bit more useful.” Nadia didn’t comment on the mirror finding things or people that the user had a strong connection with. She couldn’t, even though she… wanted. She wanted to, but wanting was hard, and she didn’t have time for it. Besides, wanting led to being stupid, and this, everything that existed or didn’t between her and Luce, was something that she was too scared to be stupid about. Casual. It was just supposed to be casual, even if Nadia couldn’t maintain casualness to save her life.

Seeing Rhiannon would have made Nadia’s chest ache if it was possible. Seeing how big her kitten had gotten was just a reminder of how long she’d been gone. She gave the cat a soft smile, especially when Rhiannon didn’t pay her any mind. “Oh, totally, I can tell she missed me.” Nadia laughed a bit and sat on the bed, making sure to stay within view of the mirror, and reached over to pet Rhiannon. She still wasn’t the best at touching things, but she managed to run her fingers through soft fur when she really concentrated. She couldn’t feel anything except the slightest tingle of warmth, but it was nice to know she could even do that. Rhiannon’s ear twitched, which was a good as anything from her; the only thing that would have shown the cat’s love even more would have been if she’d attempted to swat at Nadia’s hand. She looked back at Luce. “I-- Yeah. I mean, there’s not much to do, like this, a lot of the time, so I’d go by Ink Inc. and other places, and you weren’t there, so I figured you weren’t, like, around or anything. I didn’t see you around.”

“Yeah. You’re still here.” Luce echoed. She wanted to ask why, or how-- but, she realized, it didn’t really matter, did it? Nadia was still here. Which meant that there really was a chance that she could get her body back. There was still hope. And that had been in short supply for… a while now. Luce’s eyes remained trained on the sliver of glass in her hand, watching Nadia regard herself in the mirror. It was still so hard to believe that she was really here. With her. Talking to her. “It’s never done this before and I’ve had it since I was a teenager. The-- my mother’s coven, someone from there charmed it for me. I’ve used it before, but it’s never done anything like this. Not that I’m complaining, I just… It’s never happened before.” She said with a slightly disbelieving expression on her face. Did this have something to do with her flames not cooperating? Was her magic, was something wrong with it?

As Nadia moved to sit next to her, Luce waited for the bed to dip with the familiar weight of the other woman. But, of course, the sensation didn’t come. She wasn’t here, not like that. She was… a soul without a body-- not quite ghost and not quite girl either. Swallowing, she did her best to hide how much that reminder pained her and focused on Rhiannon’s sleeping form. She could see Nadia reaching out, could see the barest twitch of the cat’s ear. Proof. Undeniable proof that the other woman really was here. A part of her wanted to reach out, to see if she could feel the barest hint of Nadia’s presence against her skin. But before she could extend her hand, Luce blinked at the woman’s words. “You’d come by the shop? I didn’t know that. I mean, there’s no way I could know. I wasn’t… around.” She said and sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry. I’m trying to get better about-- I don’t know. Talking. Being present. Being,” Better. “Here for people. My birthday came around and I sort of… freaked out. And I fucked off from town for a bit because it was easier than dealing with things.” But then, she’d come back and everything was somehow worse than how she’d left it. “Which was a bad idea. Hindsight 20/20 you know?”

Nadia smiled at Luce. She was still here, for better or for worse, and here was where she’d stay until her dying breath. As far as she knew, her fucking body was still breathing. She liked to think that she’d know whether or not she was dead. Maybe she’d feel it or something. “Okay, so this is a new kind of thing.” Nadia didn’t know shit about magic, but things didn’t just change. Not without a cause. She was mostly ghostly because she’d been kicked out of her body. “So something had to have happened. I-- I mean, I’m glad. It’s kind of nice, that you can see me. Like, not a lot of people can. More than you’d think, but not a lot.” Fuck, how was she going to explain this to Blanche? She’d probably literally just disappeared while they were in the middle of something. But this… was kind of better. “Hey, you’ll figure it out, alright? I wish I could help you find out what’s going on with that thing.” She frowned at the mirror, feeling useless. “But at least you didn’t get, like, a worse spirit, you know? Like, some of them are jackasses.”

It wasn’t like Nadia could blush, but she would have, for sure, if she was in her body. “I mean, only sometimes. I just, like, check on people, sometimes. When I’m not busy.” So pretty often, actually, but that sounded embarrassing and depressing, and busy meant that she was trying to figure out how to not die getting her body back, which was just depressing. “I didn’t, you know, expect you to know I was there. I didn’t even know if you knew I was, uh, like this.” The look on Luce’s face was something that Nadia wanted to brush away. Luce Vural was confident and carefree and smiling (or maybe smirking, but hey, Nadia liked it), and every single time Nadia saw her and she wasn’t, all Nadia wanted to do was help her. These weren’t casual thoughts. She wished she could think casual thoughts. “Yeah? I gotta admit, I thought you were pretty good at it. The, uh, being there for people. Not that we ever-- I mean we kind of talked, but-- Ugh. I’m also not good at this, either. Talking.” It was easier when she wasn’t so fucking focused on her own emotions. Instead, all she could think about was how warm Luce was, and how Nadia could probably feel Luce if she was close enough. Just a little closer. She looked away. “I-- I can’t really blame you for leaving. Town’s kind of shitty, honestly. But… I am glad you’re back.” I was worried about you was better left unsaid, but she felt it. Fuck, she felt it.

That smile-- how could Nadia still smile, after everything that had happened to her? Luce didn’t know how she could do it. As she listened to the woman’s words, Luce’s face fell, expression distant. Something had changed, sort of. She’d helped kill someone. Not that she hadn’t done that before, which was… still something she hadn’t fully unpacked. But, she’d helped kill someone who wasn’t a threat to her, who would have left well enough along if Luce had just let Lydia go. Was her magic changing because of that? Was the fire fading and were souls taking their place? Swallowing, she shrugged and offered a sliver of a smile. “Yeah. I’ll figure it out. Probably just something weird going on with the charm on the mirror. I’ll ask my sisters about it.” She would. No more secrets, and she meant those words this time. No more secrets. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

“You were checking up on me?” Luce said, the words coming out, half teasing, half worried. Had Nadia seen her on the nights when she’d stumbled out of Soul, drunker than she should be? Or the days when she holed herself up in her room, surrounded by sketches that were cast off and pushed aside? “That bitch in your body told me that… you weren’t around. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t think you were still around, which,” Luce let out a wry laugh, “Is a pretty shitty conclusion to jump to, now that I think about it.” Listening to Nadia, she almost wanted to grin. Who would have thought that a ghost-- a soul? A spirit?-- could get flustered. “I’m really not. But, I’m working on it.” Luce said, thinking about Remmy. She wanted to be better, but how could she even say that? She’d helped to kill someone they cared about, someone they loved? And she was still running, in a way. She hadn’t talked to them in weeks, too afraid of what would happen if she did.

Staring at the mirror, Luce wished that she could reach through the glass and touch the woman’s face, to do… something. Reassure her? Help her? Luce didn’t know what, all she knew was that her fingers ached to touch Nadia. “I’m glad to be back. I--” Her words hitched and she cleared her throat, “It’d be nice if you were back too.” She said as she shifted in place on the bed. Her free hand rested on the covers and she watched as it passed through the place where Nadia’s hand was, their fingers crossing over one another in the reflection. But, there was no familiar press of skin against hers, none of the cool comfort of her body. Luce was still alone.

“Totally,” Nadia said. “Granted, it was a shit offer made by someone who knows significantly less about--” she motioned to the mirror, “any of this than your sisters probably do, so I’m pretty sure I’d have been more of a hindrance than a help, especially, you know, all incorporeal.” Even if she was in her body and hadn’t been possessed for months, Nadia didn’t know shit about magic mirrors or, just, magic in general. She added that to the list of things she wanted to learn when, if, she got her body back. It was a constantly expanding list. She hoped she got to work through it.

At Luce’s next words, Nadia ran a hand through her hair, the motion a habit that just refused to die despite the weeks she’d been unable to feel herself do it. “Only at work, really. I haven’t been here or anything, actually, since I was here, like, the first time.” Just because she could walk through walls didn’t mean that she should. Even like this, Nadia valued boundaries, tried to uphold them as much as she could. Sometimes, sure, she wandered, usually unaware and for a bit longer than she should, but she always came back to herself, always made sure she didn’t go too far. “Well, the bitch in my body is kind of a bitch so…” She let the words trail off, worry clear on her face. “She hasn’t bothered you, has she? I mean, hurt you. Has she tried to hurt you?” God, Nadia didn’t know what she’d do if-- Cordelia had a habit of knowing how to hurt Nadia by going after the people she cared about. She hated the thought of Cordelia even talking to Luce; she didn’t know what she’d do with herself if the bitch had hurt yet another person that she… cared about. She needed to stop thinking about that. “Hey, working on it’s the first step, right? It’s good that you’re even doing that. A lot of people don’t care to.”

If she closed her eyes, Nadia could imagine that Luce’s hand was in hers, warm and comforting and grounding. Instead, she looked down to where Luce’s hand had simply passed through hers, a steady reminder that, like this, she wasn’t fully present, not when her body was off doing who the fuck knew what. “I wish I was back, too,” her voice thick with emotion and tears that she could shed. She swallowed the feelings down, trying carefully not to get too emotional, even if all she could be was a collection of thoughts and emotions that were only occasionally heard. Strong emotions weren’t good while she was like this, a fact that she had to remind herself often. It was hard, being unable to feel anything but her own emotions. How did people do this? She’d like to get back to normal. She’d never complain about being a fucking empath ever again. “But this isn’t permanent. I should-- It’s being worked on. I’m getting my body back. Soon, hopefully.” She moved her hand a bit and loosely wrapped it around Luce’s. Nadia knew the other woman couldn’t feel it, but it made her feel better to see it. Almost like she was real. She didn’t voice the fact that she could actually die trying to get her body back, that she’d been through two exorcisms and neither of them had gone particularly right, that there were so, so many things that could go wrong. She could be a little hopeful, here, consequences be damned.

Work. The tension in Luce’s shoulders eased some at that and she nodded. Work was safe, for the most part. She’d crashed at Ink more often than she should, stumbling in through the backdoor after a long night at Soul and crashing on the couch. But, it was better than if Nadia had seen her here, or in the woods. At Nadia’s question, Luce shook her head. “Not unless you count messing with my head. She hasn’t done anything to me, so… silver linings, you know?” She said with a tense smile. Even if that bitch had tried to hurt her, would Luce have been able to do anything about it? It was still Nadia’s body, still Nadia’s face that looked back at her, even the smirk and the cruel eyes were distinctly not Nadia. The only thing Luce was good for was fire and even that…

Luce watched the way Nadia’s eyes drifted to their fingers in the reflection of the mirror and, for a moment, she wondered if the other woman would pull away. She had always made it clear that things between them were casual, and Nadia had always been okay with that. But, the fear and anger and sadness that Luce had felt when she realized that the woman had been pushed from her body and trapped in this half-life? It scared her. It terrified her in the same way her feelings for Remmy had. As she stared at the mirror, she watched as Nadia’s fingers curled around her own. Luce wished she could feel her. She wished she could touch her. She wished that she could do something to help, that she could do anything good. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word. I want--” Her words caught in the back of her throat, “to help. If I can, I want to do it.” I want you to be here, to be safe. She wanted to say the words, but some part of her just couldn’t bring herself to voice the truth.

“Well, at least she didn’t try to shoot you,” Nadia muttered. “She seems to enjoy that.” And stab people, apparently. She was still scared and pissed off at the thought of what Cordelia had done to Blanche, and what she’d done to Kaden, what she’d nearly done to Regan. Luce was lucky, in a way, that somehow Cordelia hadn’t decided to take a literal stab at her. Nadia was grateful for that, at least. God, she wished she knew what Luce was thinking, feeling. Some sort of insight into anything that wasn’t herself would be awesome. Nadia liked to think that she was good at reading people, even without the empath thing, and maybe she was, but it was hard like this when she literally had nothing to focus on. “The fact that that’s the silver lining to this whole thing is such shit.”

Looking at Luce, Nadia felt the feeling of waking up from those falling dreams, a tightness having built up in her whole being because she didn’t really have a throat for it to get stuck in. She didn’t have a way to properly express the lingering dread and the relief and the where do we go from here that she wanted to. Fuck, she wanted to. But this wasn’t the time, and it might never be. Instead, she gave Luce a half-smile. “This is helping. Seriously. I… This is grounding, talking with someone. Sometimes…” Sometimes she would be so light that she didn’t touch the ground, and sometimes she was so heavy that she would sink into it. “Sometimes I’m not really here, and talking keeps me present. So, this? This is good.” Any other kind of help would be too much to ask of a woman that barely knew her, even if she wished it was different. She was already asking too much of the people that did know her, know what had happened and what was going on. It was too dangerous. She was putting too many people in harm’s way.

Shoot her? Luce’s eyebrows shot up at that. Who the fuck had been shot at? Christ, what would she even do if that bitch came at her with a gun? She didn’t know how to defend herself against that kind of thing, even with her magic. Which she wouldn’t use, she wouldn’t do that to Nadia. “Kinda tracks with this town, you know? Nothing quite like radio silence from your local body-snatcher being the bright side of any situation.” She said her words joking, but still tinged with bitterness.

Luce couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Nadia, to exist like this. Not quite here, but not completely gone either. All while she was surrounded by people who couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her. She was alone in a way that Luce, for all her love of isolation and solitude, knew would drive anyone to madness.“I’m glad. That this is helping. That I can,” still be good, “Do something good.” She said with a nod. Looking at the mirror, Luce hovered her hand over the space where Nadia’s arm rested, fingers tracing shapes in the air where the other woman’s skin should be. A triangle, the sign of fire. A circle, cut into quadrants, the earth. Zig-zagging line, lead. Alchemical marks that were found in any binding ward. But, without a surface to imbue with power, they were just shapes in the air. “I just wish I could do more.” Luce said, voice quiet.

At Luce’s expression, Nadia had to laugh bitterly. “Yeah, she really fucking likes hurting people.” Cordelia liked hurting the people that Nadia cared about because she liked hurting Nadia. That’s just who she was, who she’d become. Anything to get control over a body that wasn’t really hers. Nadia was a fool for giving it up in the first place; she owned up to that, and she knew that all of this was her fault. She was too weak to hold onto what was hers. But Cordelia should have never gone after the people that Nadia cared about. She wasn’t supposed to do that, and Nadia would be damned if she let that bitch do it anymore. “Right? At least she’s not out there murdering people.” As far as they knew, of course. Truthfully, the radio silence was just as concerning, the not-knowing. Because Cordelia was the textbook definition of unstable, and Nadia had been there while she was stable, at least somewhat. Cordelia was prone to violence, but she liked it, the thrill of it. She liked pain, feeling it and causing it. Radio silence could mean anything, and that terrified Nadia.

“I’m glad, too,” Nadia said softly, and, focusing, attempted to squeeze Luce’s hand. It was about the same as trying to brush Rhiannon’s fur; there wasn’t much, but it was something, a reminder that she was there, as much as it might seem like she wasn’t. That was, perhaps the worst part of being like this. As much as she phased through things like they weren’t real, she was the incorporeal one. She was the thing that didn’t really exist. Nothing could touch her; she could only hope to touch them, and sometimes she was too overwhelmed to even manage that. But this? She could do this. She eyes tracked the movement of Luce’s finger’s, remembering like a waking dream the way they felt on her skin. “I can’t ask you to do anything more,” she whispered, too scared to speak loud, too scared of the emotions that would worm their way into her voice. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t know what I’d-- I don’t want you to get hurt. This is gonna be over soon, and I will let you know if I’m-- when I’m back. I will.” Even if she was still like this, even if it went horribly wrong, she’d let Luce know.

As Nadia’s fingers moved to curl around Luce’s in the reflection, a small grin flitted across her face. There was nothing good about this situation, no real reason for her to smile. Nadia was still a ghost, Luce’s magic was still… fucked, nothing had changed in any real way. But, it felt better. Somehow. Looking at the reflection, she watched as Nadia’s lips moved, expecting to hear the words. But, it was like scanning through an old radio scanner, with white noise filtering in with every other word. “Can’t… do more... Don’t want you…” Luce’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she tried to piece together the words. “Over soon…. When… back.” Swallowing, Luce shook the mirror, as though that would do something. “I can’t-- something’s happening. I can’t hear you.” She said. Even as she spoke, the sound of static grew and the reflection in the compact began to shift at the edges. “I can’t-- I’m losing you,” Luce said. She was losing Nadia, again. No, no, no. Couldn’t she just have five minutes of something good? Or did she not even deserve that? “I can’t see you, but… stay. Please. If you can.”

“No,” Nadia said with no small amount of despair as she watched her reflection fade from the tiny mirror. “No, please, I just want-- Fuck.” God, she wanted to scream. She could, probably, but that wouldn’t be good for the Vural’s electricity. She needed to stay calm, but it was hard, it was so fucking hard. Especially when she just-- She had more she wanted to say, to make sure Luce didn’t try anything dumb. And she had things she wanted to avoid saying, didn’t know how to say, but she wanted to feel them on her lips and know that they could be heard if she voiced them. “I can stay,” she whispered, even though she knew she wasn’t going to heard. She tried to squeeze Luce’s hand again, though she failed the first few times before she succeeded. She pulled her knees up to her chest, halfway sinking into the bed but not able to bring herself to care. It wasn’t like she needed to put up appearances, anymore. “I’m here.” She didn’t feel like it, but she was. “I’m here.” Reaching over, she managed to tap against Luce’s nightstand once. Two times. “I’m here.”

[inspirationdivine]

If You Go Down to The Woods Tonight || Lydia and Luce

Luce finds Lydia dancing naked in the woods. What could go wrong?

Lydia was deep and far into the woods, far enough that no one would stumble upon her, (or so Lydia assumed) so when she shed her clothes, she shed her glamour too. Her hand glowed against the tree bark she leant against to slide off her skirt. The pixies chittered as her wings extended from her back, and she slid into a very rare spring fairy ring. It was already withering, not made for this climate, but it would be good for one night. No other species would understand the pulsating magic of tinkling bells that filled her body as the pixies surrounded her. It was a music no one else could hear. Even as the rain came down, they danced. The pixies sang, buzzing past her ears, her wings, as she hovered over the damp forest floor. Here, there was no judgement, no manipulation, no dishonesty. Even glamours were a lie in their own way. Her hips rolled the the beat of the tingles in her spine.  Until she paused, looked around. They were no longer alone. “You might as well reveal yourself, whoever you are.”

Hiking further into the woods, Luce rested her hand on the sword on her hip. After her run in with Donuts the Actually Not So Bad Cop during the last storm, she wanted to find a place more off the beaten path for her future mass fires. But, after the fext and whatever that slimy bastard attacked her and Remmy, she wasn’t just running out here without a little extra protection. The things she did to fucking improve herself. All because she didn’t want her sisters to figure out what she was doing. They had their own secrets-- that much was clear, after the troubling encounter she and Nellie had with August-- and she was sure they wouldn’t begrudge her one of her own. As she hiked, rain began to trickle from the sky. Glancing up, she was startled when she realized that there was movement through the trees. Not just rain, but… Huh. Crouching slightly, she moved closer to the scene and was startled to see a completely naked woman floating in the middle of the forest, surrounded by sprites. But, more startling than that were the wings coming out of her back. As the woman addressed her, Luce’s held her hands up in an apologetic gesture. That said, she didn’t avert her gaze as she stepped closer. “I didn’t mean to gatecrash. My b.” She said with an easy smile.

It was close enough to the full moon that it could still be a wolfling, Lydia thought as the woman emerged from the trees. She was beautiful, even the pixies stilled to look at her. The music still rang in her body, the perfect concordance of mushrooms. But her eyes drifted from that pretty smile to lower on her body, and Lydia’s heart froze in place. Not a werewolf. Werewolves had teeth and claws enough to not need the shining knuckle dusters on her hands, nor the sword on her hip. Hunter. Lydia’s heart hammered as she hovered backwards, reaching behind her for her purse. In it lay a brass pistol, which she picked up and held against her glowing thigh. “Didn’t you?” She repeated skeptically, her voice an octave higher than normal. “You didn’t come equipped like someone who wasn’t here to gatecrash.”

Entranced by the woman’s other-worldly appearance, Luce was barely aware of the fact that she was floating backwards. Or the fact that she was looking at the weapons that she had carried into the woods with her. As the woman began to float backwards, going for the bag on the ground, Luce was startled when she pulled out a pistol and trained it on her. “Whoa! Hold up, I’m not doing anything!” She said, her ironic hands up stance becoming much more of a plea for ‘hey, don’t fucking shoot me’ than she had intended. “You think I make a habit of going into these woods without a little protection? There’s a lot of shit out here that’s more than happy to try and attack both of us. I’m not in the business of making kebabs out of gorgeous flying women.” Luce replied, more than a little bit of impudence apparent in her tone. She’d just come out for a walk, to scope out the area. Not to get a gun pulled on her by what she could only assume was one of the Fae.

“Why should I believe you? Hunters love to lie. It’s probably what they’re best at,” Lydia replied, her arms trembling, but her aim true. “I’m not in the habit of shooting beautiful women, but that doesn’t mean I don’t make an exception.” She eyed her cautiously, her ears prickling. The feeling of being watched hadn’t left with the mimes, as it had for most. If it had been hunters, it would have explained how much it haunted her, and justified the fear. 

Watching the way the woman’s arms seemed to shake, the way her stange ears were twitching, Luce could tell that the stranger was far more afraid of her than she was. Which, given the whole gun situation, said a lot. A Hunter? Is that what she thought she was? But, she was a lot more interested in the beautiful women comment. With a smirk, Luce nodded. “Only because you called me pretty,” She teased, before tossing her silver knuckledusters onto the ground next to her. With a slow hand, Luce locked eyes with the woman, “I’m taking off my belt. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me.” She said before undoing the latch of her belt and tossing it onto the grass as well. “I’m not a Hunter. I figure that would be enough to prove I’m not.”

Lydia wasn’t in the mood to flirt or tease until the weapons were dropped. In the dark, she slowly realised the knuckles glinted silver, not like irons. “Not shooting,” she replied, her voice a little steadier as she watched Luce carefully remove the belt, and watched the sword drop onto the leafy floor. Although, Lydia still wasn’t convinced. Even hunters were smart enough to know not to bring a sword to a gun fight. All the same, she lowered her pistol, tapping it against her thigh before setting it back on the branch of her tree. “Well, darling, you’ve caught me off guard. I’m not sure I have many secrets from you anymore,” Lydia looked down at her bare body, unashamed, but certainly unsure what to do now. “My name’s Lydia. Who, exactly, are you?” 

Grin still on her face, despite the fact that there was a gun trained on her, Luce let out a laugh. “You always this friendly to heavily armed hikers? Seriously, though, I didn’t mean to interrupt your party with the pixies.” She said, gesturing to the pixies that surrounded them and were still staring at her with wary, beady eyes. Letting her eyes roam daringly over the Fae woman’s body, Luce nodded, “So it would seem. Can’t say I mind.” She said before lowering her hands to rest against the flannel shirt that was tied around her waist. Without her weapons, she definitely felt vulnerable, but you know. Wasn’t part of flirting about vulnerability? “You can call me Luce.” She said. Even though the woman hadn’t asked for her name, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She’d had run-ins with more than a couple Fae women in the past, she didn’t want to wind up forgetting who she was.

“I thought I was deep enough into the woods to avoid the heavily armed hikers,” Lydia replied, looking around at at pixies beside her. She stood a little taller under Luce’s gaze, a little straighter. Without her glamour, her skin had next to no flaws, and glowed light yellow. She smiled slightly. “You’ve interupted now. We could invite you to join in, but you might not like how that would go.” Lydia stepped back into the fairy rings, hips swaying. “Can I now? Luce it is. And what manner of being are you? If not a werewolf nor a hunter?”

“Ah, well. Some of us like to live on the edge.” Luce replied easily, not unduly troubled by the fact that the woman in front of her was still very much not a human. Lydia. That was it. Taking in the way that the she seemed to glow in the light, Luce made note of her appearance-- she didn’t usually dabble in portraits, but there was something about her that just… had to be captured. She might break out her oil paints when she got home. Glancing back to the bag, that was still not as far from Lydia as her sword was from her, she corrected herself. If she got home. “Mmm, I’m good. Not really a mushroom gal, to be honest.” She said. Raising an eyebrow, Luce let out a laugh, “You really thought I was a werewolf?” She’d have to tell Ulf that one. “Human. Very much a human. Not a vampire or any kind of undead either.” She added. That said, it never hurt to keep the fact she was a witch in her back pocket. 

“Now that is disappointing.” Lydia replied, as the pixies chittered around them. Human. “I had assumed most humans wouldn’t wander out while it was raining, not so close to the full moon. I suppose humans here are more foolhardy than most. Oh well.” It was beginning to rain harder, and goosebumps began to raise against her skin. She sensed something from this human though, as she watched her curiously. “You’re an artist, aren’t you? You have impressive potential.”

Luce’s expression shifted from one of amusement to one of vague irritation. Disappointing. She hated that word. Resting a hand on her hip, she shrugged. “What can I say, I live on the edge. Nothing’s better than a nice storm. Seems like you’re in agreement there.” She said with a nod, tilting her head to the fact that Lydia herself was out here in the middle of the woods just as she was. “Tattoo artist. And other mediums, but mostly that. What gave it away, the sleeves?” She asked, her tone returning to the joking, lighter cadence of before. Running a hand through her soaked hair, Luce swept it back out of her face, keeping her eyes focused on the strange, entrancing woman that stood before her. 

“I prefer clear skies to cloudy ones, but we make do,” Lydia replied. She could practically taste it in the air now, the potential held in this woman. There was a hole in her roster, and tattoo artists could be incredibly artistic types. She wouldn’t be able to stay a tattoo artist, of course, but Lydia could work on that. Lydia’s voice softened as she stepped closer. “No, you just have a vibe. What style do you tatt- oh, fuck.” Lydia cursed, spotting three creatures behind Luce. Little red caps were coming for the fae circle. “That’s trouble.”

While Luce was more interested in hearing what Lydia had to say, the fact that there were three disgusting little gremlins with bloody red caps perched on their heads, was putting a slight damper on the little flirtation. “You’re not wrong.” She grimaced before reaching for her sword. But, before she could make a grab for it, one of the creatures swiped at her with its bloodied, iron spear, letting out a complicated hissing and growling that the others seemed to understand. “C’mon, fair is fair. You don’t wanna fight an unarmed gal, do you?” She said cajolingly. Not that it would do much, honestly, but it was worth a shot. The little creatures growled again at her as she went for the sword and instead of regaining the weapon, all she managed to snag was her set of silver brass knuckles. “You wouldn’t happen to have any ideas on how to stop these fuckers, hm?” Luce asked, directing the question to Lydia.

“They don’t want to fight you, they want to eat you,” Lydia clarified, stepping back and extending her wings to begin hovering. Bloody little things. Their shoes and spears were made to burn, and in any other situation would have bolted. With three pixies to look after, though. “Get between my wings,” Lydia instructed the pixies, because there was shelter under the hard shells of her Elytra. Lydia buzzed up as one of the Redcaps swiped, her heart pounding in her chest. “Running! Running would be excellent! They can’t swim and they-AH!” Lydia yelped as a spear plunged into the tree beside her, inches from her head. She grabbed her gun, knocking the rest of her purse onto the forest floor. “Their hats! Can’t live without them!” The crack of a gunshot echoed through the woods as Lydia shot one of them in the head. That enraged the others. 

“I mean, yeah, I figured. Can’t a girl crack a--” Before Luce could finish her statement, another spear came swinging in her direction and she dodged out of the way. Thank christ she liked doing swordsmanship for fun, otherwise she would have been smacked upside the head. With an irritated noise, Luce glared at the redcap that stood in front of her before making her way, jumping over the spear point to get in close. But, before she could punch it across the face, a gunshot rang through the air and it went down like a sack of potatoes, bullet lodged firmly in its head. Startled, she glanced back at Lydia. Right. Guns. “Well, if we’re bringing out the big guns…” With a flick of her hand, a spark of flame burned brightly in her hands, wreathing the silver knuckles dusters on her fists. Whirling around, Luce brought her foot down on the end of a spear, trapping it in the dirt. As the redcap stared at her in something like horror, she brought her fist back and pummeled it in the face once, twice, leaving burn scorch marks across it’s goblin-like features.

Lydia, only just a foot taller than the redcaps, and still naked, was very much not okay, especially as four more redcaps advanced. Hunters dealt with these in groups, Lydia knew. They had to, because of their natural tolerance to iron and vicious attitudes. As warden killers, they were almost worth keeping around, like it was worth keeping spiders that ate mosquitos. Just not when they were trying to eat her. Lydia shrieked as the night sky filled with fire, before realising its source. Witch! The redcaps were momentarily stunned as she scorched one of them, drawing the attention of the other three, drawing their spears away from Lydia and to Luce. Lydia’s heart hammered as she pointed her pistol at one of them, fired twice, missed, and hit a different one in the arm instead. That had their attention. Bad idea. Lydia screamed again as a spear was thrown at her, burning ice hot along her arm. Fuck that. Looking up, Lydia beat her wings hard enough to jump her up onto a tree branch. Fuckers couldn’t reach her there (right? hopefully?), as she left Luce as bait and tried to shoot them again.

Yanking the iron spear from the redcap’s hand, Luce tried to remember back to her track and field days-- okay, what had that really hot javelin girl told her? Arm back, running start… Luce hucked the spear across the field towards one of the redcaps that had appeared from the trees. The spear hit slightly off the mark, slicing the redcap through the leg and pinning it to the ground where it let out a strangled wale of anger. While these shitty creatures seemed to have no problem with iron, that didn’t make them immune to being skewered. Out of the corner of her eye, Luce saw that Lydia had taken flight to the trees, gun still in hand. Great, Annie Got Her Gun over there was using her as a distraction. “Just peachy.” Luce grumbled under her breath before running to where her sword lay in the ground. Grabbing it, she let loose another torrent of magic, this time running up the length of her sword. “Eat shit and die!” She yelled as she swung at one of the redcaps nearest her. The creature howled in anger before stabbing at her. The weapon was just longer than her own, but it was shorter than her which meant they were on a level playing field. “Do you maybe wanna shoot one of these?” Luce asked as the other two redcaps began to circle around her.

None of them had tried to fly yet, thank god, Lydia thought as she watched Luce below. Her heart hammered louder than the scream of the redcap down below - pinned in place by the spear. That, Lydia could do. She squeezed the trigger, once, twice, three times as its face shattered and turned bloody red. Rain sizzled midair as Luce sent flames running the length of her sword, the other two circling her. Just then, tiny pebbles began hurtling out of the sky, bouncing of the grey skin of the red caps. Roughly sharpened twigs were hurled down at them by pixies, glinting in the sky like fireflies. The redcaps looked up and snarled. One pulled his arm back, teeth bared, and threw his spear up into the sky. When it came down, it came back stained red, a light went out as a pixie fell to the ground. The redcap jeered and scooped up the tiny corpse, and stuffed half of the pixie into his mouth. Her bones crunched like crisps, as he put the rest of her in his pocket. The night sky could cast a blue tint over everything it touched, but as Lydia looked at the tiny feet poking out of that bedraggled pocket, all she saw was red. Bang, bang. It didn’t kill him, but sent him to his knees. “Can’t hit the others with you in the way!”

As Lydia shot at the redcap she’d stabbed with the spear, Luce continued to battle against the two that were prodding at her with their spears. She batted back blow after blow, but they had numbers on her. With a growl, she made an aggressive lunge, trying to stab the closest redcap through the stomach with her sword. But, the redcap jumped out of the way and Luce found herself with her side exposed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Before the redcap nearest her could get a shot on her, twigs rained down, smacking into the monstrous Fae. Looking up, Luce was startled to see pixies trying to fight back. Her shock morphed to horror as she watched the redcap snatch one and shove it into its mouth. “What the fucking shit…” She breathed. When Lydia’s bullets brought the offending creature to its knees, Luce’s jaw tightened. To her right, the remaining redcap had ignored her, following the other creature’s suit and attempting to snatch pixies from the sky. Gritting her teeth, Luce stared at the injured redcap that was glaring daggers in her direction. She’d deal with him later. Whirling on the creature that was trying to grab at the pixies, she conjured a ball of flame and hurled it at the redcap. “Hey! Leave them the fuck alone!” She said before charging at it with her flaming sword. Hopefully the pixies would get the hint and get the hell outta Dodge. 

The redcap in question howled as its cap caught fire, and he hopped from foot to foot as he slapped his cap with intent urgency. So much urgency he didn’t notice Luce swingin at him until the last possible second. He leapt back, baring his teeth, swinging his spear to deflect the sword. He let out a shrill war cry as he leapt at her bodily, aiming to gouge out her eyes. 

The pixies wailed. It was the most pitiful tiny noise Lydia had heard. Her blood boiled, as the pixies darted back under her wings, and she considered again just leaving the human to her fate. Her blood pounded in her ears as she tried to aim at the other one now, feeling something she hadn’t in many years: a ravenous hunger for revenge. “Kill it, or get out of the way!”

Fuck. Luce dodged out of the way as the redcap came at her, hell-bent on ripping her to shreds. But, though she was able to avoid the brunt of the redcaps attack, the edge of the spear grazed across her shoulder as it passed by her. With a strangled gasp, Luce’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the redcap that was staring at her with murderous intent. This fucker... Tossing her sword to the ground, she let the flames surrounding the blade die, the slight trickle of magical energy ceasing. For a moment, she stood there, eyes locked with the creature. Then, it ran at her, spear poised to run her through. Before the creature took another step, Luce’s hand rose and a ball of flame arched from her palm before engulfing the creature’s head in flames. The cap began to burn, the flames devouring it, while the redcap tried and failed to fight the fire off. When the final redcap fell to the ground, Luce waved away the fire and let out a sigh. Looking up at the Fae woman, she spoke up, “Those pixies okay?”

The fire arching from Luce’s hands became blinding, forcing Lydia to look away. Her pupils could not shrink to protect her gaze so she pulled an arm over her eyes. The raw power some humans were gifted with was almost as terrible as the creatures Luce slaughtered with it. Lydia couldn’t find it in her to mourn the redcaps, fae as they were, but the heat of the fire chilled her to her bone. When Luce called to her, Lydia looked down at the bloodied battlefield. She was too used to death in all it’s forms for her stomach to turn, but her heart clenched. Tiny pale legs still poked out of a bloodied pocket. Swallowing, Lydia leapt down from her branch, flapping her wings to break the fall. She looked down at her skin, normally gold but now flecked and smeared with blood. The tiniest cut on her arm burned like the spear had gone through her chest. “They’re… they’re safe now.” Except the one that had crunched like - Lydia stepped back, clutching at her stomach. She was wrong - now it was definitely turning. “Ahem.” She turned her mind back to herself, to the scrapes and bruises and burns, the cold rain raising goosebumps. All that, at least, could be fixed with a meal. Wasn’t it fortunate there was one right there? Full of energy too, and magic that no human ought have. As Lydia looked to Luce, though, she knew she couldn’t. A reason so simple it would become law the moment she spoke it. That too made her stomach coil, but the old laws were more important than… well. “It appears we owe you a debt, human.” Lydia said, and felt the bond of fae magic tie her to Luce. 

“Glad to hear it.” Looking over her shoulder, Luce winced as the rain continued to pour down, washing the blood from her shoulder down the back of her shirt. It wasn’t a bad injury, but she was definitely going to have to make a trip to her mother’s to get it healed. Unlike her nose, her arm was something she didn’t want to wait around to heal on its own. Her job mattered more than avoiding her mother’s games of 20 questions. As Lydia descended from the tree she’d taken flight to, her wings fluttering, Luce was reminded of how otherwordly the woman was. And, remembering the gun that she’d used against the redcaps, how deadly she was. “A debt?” Luce’s eyes widened. Debts. Iggy had told her about debts, about the Fae, and about how seriously those words were. And, to a degree, Luce understood. Magic was about give and take, push and pull. Exchange of energy for power. And this wasn’t all that different. It just meant a fuckton more to have a Fae put that kind of power in her hands. “Seems like it would. Don’t worry too much, though. I’m not an asshole.” She reassured, as she gathered her sword from where she’d thrown it on the ground. Sticking it back on her belt, she glanced at one of the iron spears before picking it up and slinging it over her uninjured shoulder. “Take care of yourself. And those pixies too.” She said with a nod before picking her way back out of the forest, her head reeling with the reality of what had just happened. A Fae debt. Fuck.

It wasn’t until the human walked out of sight that Lydia slumped, crumbling against the nearby tree. Lydia whimpered as the adrenaline drained and her tolerance for pain drained with it. Her hair and skin dulled as she donned her glamour, and pulled her dress back on. It was a long walk back, and she didn’t want to run into any more humans with her wings out. A fucking spellcaster. Worse than an asshole - a human. Lydia plucked two green leaves from the tree, and gently wrapped the pixie’s body in them, as her eyes pricked and her cheeks grew salty as well as wet. She held out her arm sideways for the other pixies. “Do you want a ride home? I’ll help with her funeral rites.” The fairy ring was destroyed, and the communal silent music with it.