#int * grapefruitey

[bleubcrries]

@grapefruitey

Traveling during wartimes was a bold decision on Diana's part, but with the multiple attempts on she and Willow's lives, as well as Willow's brush with death, had awoken a fierce streak within her, a motivation to become unpredictable, a moving target of sorts. Ever since Rafael had come to her with evidence of food tampering, she wouldn't eat anything that didn't come from his hands alone, if she ate at all. She'd lost almost 2 stones the past few months, the stress literally eating away at her resolve. But finally, after two weeks of nonstop travel, through heavy snow and rain, Diana could finally smell the familiar heavy smoke on the air, alerting her to the forges of Willow's kingdom, no doubt hard at work creating weapons and shields to send off to their soldiers. Diana wasted no time pulling her scarf back over her face and opening the front curtain of the carriage to look up at her driver. "Straight to the front gates, please, Anatoly. There is no more time to waste." She ordered gently, her eyes pleading with tired urgency. "Da, mem," Anatoly nodded, shaking off his exhaustion and slapping the horses' reigns, urging them to go faster. Diana settled back into her seat, rubbing her cold hands around one another in efforts to create some heat. Her eyes settled on Rafael's rugged face and the bear that had grown along their journey, as he slept peacefully on the other carriage's bench. Tears settled in her eyes as she mulled over everything he'd done for her in recent times, to make her feel safer. But there was no more time for tears, for Diana could feel the carriage slowing to an abrupt stop, and the sound of armed guards aggressively questioning her driver. She couldn't blame them, in light of the attempts on their queen's life, but Diana couldn't waste anymore time, and so she dabbed her undereyes with the soft velvet of her cloak, and lifted the fur-lined hood over her head, before stepping confidently out of the carriage. "Enough, gentleman," she said, ignoring the wobbliness of her knees from her time in the carriage, "I have business with her majesty, and neither of us have time to spare." Diana watched the realization fall over the guards' faces, and the gates were creaking open in no time. "My men will bring the carriages in. I'll see myself in." And with that, Diana began walking towards the grand entrance, her tall figure making long strides and quickly crossing the courtyard to the front steps. She would find Willow herself, if she had to. There was much to discuss, on all fronts, but first, she desperately needed the warm embrace of her oldest and truest friend.

[bleubcrries]

Hugo knew that his relationship to Temperance was tenuous at best; he reckoned she would soon grow tired of his mortality. Hugo was in his forties now, he appreciated how young and impenetrable she made him feel, but as he limped across the creaky wood floors of his house, each gnawing ache was an acerbic reminder of his impermanence. In truth, he had grown to know her soul, and he saw her virtuousness in each of her gentle actions-- even seeing her kill Silas and many before him had not sullied his feelings for her. Before her, Hugo's morals were grey at best, but even the most black-and-white things in his life had become nuanced in ways he'd never expected. As his sweet Temperance laid a kiss on his cheek, Hugo felt a few of his more tense muscles finally relax. They were home. Not just in their house, but alone together, and it was just what he needed. It was funny, after all this time, how seeing the blood on her mouth, her chin, her neck-- none of it phased him anymore. "Wait," Hugo uttered helplessly, just above a whisper, catching her dainty, frosty hand, and taking a wide step toward her. "You keep saving me. You keep... being so wonderful. And you, you have the world at your feet, you have all of the time to see all of the things. And New Orleans must feel so small, sometimes. It suffocates me, I can't imagine how you must feel." Hugo raises Temperance's hand, presses a warm kiss to her knuckles, caring not about any traces of blood-- they're irrelevant to him, now. "Let's--- let's go away. Let's take a vacation. We can go anywhere in the world you want. I... I owe you my life, Temp. And there's not much I can do to make up for it, but I have to try."

Temperance could still remember the first time she approached Hugo's house. Her intention was certainly nefarious. A large house, clearly one that would house a wealthy socialite. She would usually feed, steel what would not be traced back to her, then move on. But as soon as she laid eyes on Hugo through the double-hung windows of his large home, Temperance couldn't stop thinking of him. The idea that it was now also her home was still foreign. It had been so long since Temperance remained in one place long enough that she could consider placing down roots. Until Hugo, of course. Her only wish became that he chose a less dangerous line of work. It was unfamiliar and far too time consuming to be worrying about him.

With practiced subtlety, Temperance slipped her arm around Hugo and supported as much of his weight as possible without him noticing. She was again worried about his fragility. His body was constantly falling apart. Every moment he remained fully human was another that he flirted with death. "Thank you." She inclined her head as she entered his house. She still remembered the first time she crossed the doorway. That cold barrier dissolved upon his invitation but it still sent a shiver down her spine.

Temperance placed a hand on his cheek, her head tilted just slightly as she studied him. It was difficult to not force him into bed to relax after a day of stress but she knew he was still an independent and stubborn human. "Go and get your rum, my love. Let me get cleaned up." Even though she believed that Silas was entirely unwelcome in both life and death, his blood was still blood. The sooner she could wash it off herself the better. "You can come and join me shortly." She removed the mink from her around her shoulders and set it down on the couch. It would need to be cleaned, surely. Temperance kissed him on the cheek then carefully brushed off the transferred flakes of dried blood so he would remain clean. That was all that mattered to her anyway, his mental and physical safety. "Take a breath, Hugo. All is well here. We are safe." She squeezed his arm then retreated to their room and the grand bathroom within.

[bleubcrries]

for @grapefruitey (as are all good things in this world)

How could the air still smell the exact same after ten years? The same old smells of decadently buttery croissants from suzie's bakery, freshly printed ink from the Independent's offices, and a touch of cigar smoke from the old veterans playing cards around the corner; they all smacked Jack in the face with a familiarity he was heretofore unprepared for. He had become an entirely different person, everything about him had changed and evolved, for better or for worse, and he thought that he would be strong enough to cross city lines and return home without such violent stirs of old feelings; but here he was, staring at that same old gazebo, feeling like his entire past had finally washed ashore to be dissected after disappearing for a decade. And that was his limit, reached all too quickly; he wasn't going to be able to do this sober. Luckily, everything in this tiny town was always a stone's throw away, so his feet went on autopilot and carried him to the doors of the local bar. Inside, Jack immediately recognized old faces sitting at booths and tables; school friends and old teachers, family friends, and even a plumber who'd briefly dated his mother. But none of them recognized him. He'd like to blame the test of time having weathered away all of his boyish features, but truthfully: he was trying to remain as invisible as possible, and it was working. Jack pulled his baseball cap a little lower, and his canvas jacket a little tighter, and sat at the bar, distracting himself idly with the beer list on the bartop. He felt the presence of the bartender before him, and he offered a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, still (poorly) pretending to read the beer list, despite knowing he was going to order what he always ordered. "I'll have a Guinness on draft, please," Jack uttered quietly with a polite nod, before he finally dragged his tired, red eyes up from the card stock and found himself momentarily breathless at the sight. "W-Wolf?"

[bleubcrries]

@grapefruitey

Eudora's family had been a part of Whidbey Island since long before anyone named Whidbey ever came along. They'd farmed in these hills, fished in these waters, hunted in these forests, built homes made of this stone and fed their fire with these trees. And yet here Eudora was, hundreds of years later, praying that her rusted old buick didn't crap out on one of these winding Whidbey back roads before she could get her lyft passenger into town. The radio had stopped working the day before after a particularly cavernous pothole, and the only sound in the car was the irregular clanging of her exhaust pipe being held on by a wire hanger and a prayer. So, Eudora took a chance and cleared her throat, preparing to strike up some sort of conversation that would hopefully get her more than two stars. "So, what brings you to Whidbey?" she asked, trying her best to take this winding turn with as much grace as possible, "We don't get much tourism this time of year, what with the storms and such. You visiting family?"

[bleubcrries]

Arturo had never been one for the open water, despite spending nearly every summer of his life on the coast of Yucatan. He'd always been partial to the swamps, where he would climb out onto the thickest mangrove roots he could find, stay as quiet as a mouse, and wait for a crocodile to swim by, or an ocelot to slink up to the bank to drink some water. Out here, though, he felt like he'd shrunk to the size of thimble, and that the sea could swallow him whole whenever it so chose. He supposed he was safer with Rosalie, sure, she seemed so comfortable on the ocean that he half expected her to sprout gills and a tale and join the waves herself. Hell, she might swim back to shore anyway when he tells her what he's dragged her out here for. "Well, when I tell you why, Miss Rosalie, I'm going to have to beg that you just trust me." Arturo takes his hat off, blinking the harsh sun spots out of his eyes as he rests the hat onto the bench beside him. "Four ships, now, have gone missing near these coordinates. Only one survivor has surfaced, but he was so freaked out that he was just muttering nonsense, and the hospital had him admitted into a psychiatric wing. He talked of 40-foot tentacles, and a ship that appeared seemingly from nowhere, so large that it swallowed their fishing boat whole. And, as a woman of science yourself, I was hoping you could help me investigate these waters and... hopefully give this man some peace. I think perhaps he was caught in a bad storm, or maybe witnessed a humpback whale breaching out of the water. It's very unlikely we will come upon a 10-ton monster squid or a mammoth ghost ship."

open to all 30+; your muse contracted out her oceanography services. could go horror, could just be fun ?

Rosalie set the destination in the ship’s computer after manually steering them out of the harbor. Her equipment was safely stored in waterproof containers but she still didn’t have any idea what she was there for. “So mysterious destination is set. Now will you tell me why you hired me?”

[twistedthings]

          ――――――――――― ⌽ ―――――――――――

He nodded in agreement as if he was very much aware of what she spoke of, he might not have been as well versed in children as this teacher but he could understand what she meant by a double edged sword. "Ahh, I can imagine so, bless you for having the durability to withstand that sword," Jeremy mused, smile turning a little crooked in a somewhat nerdy manner and his head tilted and he nodded again, brow creasing before it arched in surprise. "Is that so? How interesting." It wasn't an entirely unconventional thing to not allow your children to watch television and Jeremy really didn't think much of television himself anymore outside of what aided in his work. Sure, he kept up with the trends and hot shows with research and overhearing conversations at the station but no one was none the wiser that the man didn't actually watch the shows, he'd always been more invested in his hobbies than any fictional worlds on a tv screen.

"I am a homicide detective," he admitted with a slight chuckle and absent rub of the back of his neck as if he were bashful about the whole topic, a trope of his golden boy image, modest as ever was the image he wore when in reality Jeremy loved his job simply because he had them all fooled, all the idiots that thought they could ever master over minds superior than theirs, like him. There were some detectives that were as much a predator as Jeremy but they were few and far between, their senses of morality were too strong and they were easily influenced to self-destruct, rarely was there a person willing to do what was utterly necessary to stop someone like Jeremy. A wolf in sheep's clothing at its finest.

"No, absolutely you are, I admire anyone who has some sort of positive and good influence on the next generation, I mean, we're leaving this world to them and it's all in their best interest to prepare them the best we can," he nodded as if this very topic had come up for him many, many times before. He shifted and used his free hand to gesture with as he spoke, motioning to the beautiful teacher with an easy friendliness towards her. Jesus, how Jeremy wanted to draw her into his very being, breathe in her scent, taste her skin and hear the noises he could get out of her with his mouth and teeth.

"Don't apologize! Really, your passion is nearly as beautiful as you." He held her gaze for a few beats before he huffed a soft laugh at his own expense, that smile of his still in place and shadowed by the hints of bashfulness-- something he truly wasn't, his confidence was evident through the act either way but it was his way of showing his emotions physically, knowing he could sound numb sometimes.

"That's the problem with children. Their youthful vigor can be such a double edged sword." Johanna laughed. "I actually grew up without a TV. My grandma didn't think it was necessary. The kids don't even believe me when I tell them that. It was only when I got to high school that I started watching television." She had such fond memories of her grandma yelling about how the media was corrupting the youth and that they needed to get outside into nature. There were times it was grating but Johanna and her brother came out of that rural farmhouse well equipped to handle life.

"Oh, what do you do for work?" She asked, only looking away from him to place her proper bookmark (one of the infinite made by her students) in between the pages. "I try to be!" The idea that she impressed him was wonderful. "I have the opportunity to shape the minds of future generations. Obviously I'm just one part of their childhood but for a whole year I can teach them curiosity, critical thinking, and kindness in addition to the basic curriculum." Johanna took a deep breath and shook her head. "Sorry, I get very passionate about teaching. I love what I do. And I have a tendency to overshare with strangers."

[goldngods]

harriet stared at nala's back for a moment before skipping to join her at the wall. it infuriated her throughouly how she hadn't been able to catch the woman off guard. just once she thought she might have the upper hand. "just trying to keep you on your toes. plus, you'd a crossbow might be the worst weapon on a hand to hand combat." her smile was strained. harriet wasn't always confortable around nala, knowing that people hailed her as the best in their group -- she had, after all, made a living out of taking lives before the end of the world. struggling to keep up had made her resent the other, and yet harriet was far too proud to ever let it show. "how's the movement up here? any unwanted visitors? the boss is still having a hissyfit about that group of straddlers that surprised us on the night of the bonfire."

open to all ; zombie apocalypse ; connections include another survivor, (gotye voice) someone she used to know, the leader, etc.

It wasn’t the worst situation she found herself in, considering. The mansions that the collection of survivors were living in were in good shape considering their slapdash construction. And the walls that were originally considered a status symbol had been reinforced and were constantly monitored. Safety wasn’t a big issue. The big issue was the current leadership of the group. Nara had consistently dealt with giant egos until the world turned upside down five years ago. She was famous for her soccer talent then – famous for best zombie kill now. All that time around big personalities taught her some red flags. This group was wobbling and she was wondering whether it was time to strike it out on her own again.

Nara turned to walk back across the stretch of the wall she was monitoring, her jacket zipped fully up to protect from the elements and a crossbow on her back. “Were you trying to sneak up on me while I have a weapon?” Nara asked, not turning around to face the person who had climbed up to join her. They didn’t smell like a zombie so what was the worst that could happen?

[twistedthings]

            ――――――――――― ⌽ ―――――――――――

Brody never really considered himself a paranoid or suspicious person, hell, he oftentimes couldn't take the obvious hints thrown at him in any given situation, whether that be a person who was dropping that they liked him or just some other subtle measures made to get something across to him. Everyone assumed he was dumb and Brody was pretty okay with that being the case, it meant in some instances he'd be underestimated and would have the upper hand. Always thinking like a fighter or a planner, trying to find some weakness or way he could have an ace up his sleeve but to feel something was off with another person... Brody couldn't say he'd felt anything like it.

Blue eyes swept over Florence slowly before his signature grin pressed more at his lips, conveying as friendly and empathetic of an expression as he could. Not because they weren't friends or he didn't feel like he could be nice to her, quite the opposite, he felt protective and very much concerned about Florence. Brody nodded a few times before he started making himself another drink alongside her, eyes dropping to the task at hand instead of continuing his somewhat analytical scan over her. "Mhmm," he hummed, focused on making himself a drink and when he was done Brody turned his eyes on her again then quickly let them slip over the others around them.

"It has been a minute, though, you have been kinda busy," he mused thoughtfully, glancing down at her wrist and them back up to meet her gaze, unable to shake the feeling that something other than her injuries was different about her. "-- if you got a minute, we could step outside, get some air... catch up a little." His shoulders rolled as he brought his fresh drink to his lips and took a generous gulp.

"Oh hi Brody!" Florence smiled. She couldn't remember how she tolerated the horrifically boring parts of her life before. Parties where everyone was only interested in intoxication and fornication. It was dull and predictable. Unless there was someone who she could have a little fun with. Florence allowed the smile to slip slightly and for her voice to pitch upwards to make the fake lie more obvious. "Oh yeah, I'm totally fine." She reached forward to touch his arm. "Are you okay? Sorry we haven't talked in a while. Although I think I have a good excuse at least." She wasn't bad at manipulation before everything. Cutting through the hyper-masculine business school crap taught her plenty on how to make her weaknesses into strengths. Florence looked down at the drink she mixed. "It is kind of hard." She said in a softer voice. "I keep worrying it's a dream, you know?"

[bleubcrries]

Yves had long struggled to entertain the idea of ghosts and spirits as something that could be communicated with, or documented. He'd been raised in one of the oldest Catholic schools in all of England, where the spirits were holy and the ghosts were manifestations of your sins come to reap. And then, he met Eden, and he fell so quickly and so hard that he'd been knocked out of his rigid beliefs for the first time in his life. But the skeptic in him remained sewn into his very being, and Yves couldn't stop his fear and concern from manifesting those old feelings. "You put words in my mouth, Eden. I never asked you to walk away." Yves spoke quietly, his teeth aching from the sheer force of his clenched jaw. His eyes rose from the Spanish tile floors of their shared apartment to once again look at Eden, and he forced a labored breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. "Sometimes I feel that I am dealing with an addict, Love. Everything you do, everything you see is through the lens of this media empire." He stands, his hands slapping indignantly against his thighs as a pleading look returns to his stress-glazed eyes. "Might I remind you, you fell through the entirety of a three story building, Eden! You're lucky that you're able to walk, let alone alive!"

open to all ; relationship drama? idk she's a spooky youtuber and stuff

"You do realize that you're asking me to choose between you and my job? I created a media empire and I can't just walk away." Eden was having a hard time keeping her voice rising. "Yes, it's sometimes dangerous! But I love it! What do you expect me to do?!"

[bleubcrries]

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　time skip　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙ *french accent* a few hours latér 𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Tonight was exactly the reason Hugo hired exclusively convicts, criminals & fugitives, and paid them well. They would never rat him out, not when they could work under the radar, under the table, for a trunkload of money, just for cleaning up his messes, no matter what they be. But this situation called for his most trustworthy, his most dangerous. Luckily, the incident happened right by the back door-- being near the exit gave Hugo peace of mind-- and they were able to get Silas's body out of the door before anyone saw the blood, and by the time anyone came asking questions, they blamed it on a fighting brawl. It may have been an unrealistic excuse, but it was too dark and they were too drunk to notice. Finally, they had made it home, once Hugo had made sure the club was squared away. His-- their-- home was the polar opposite of the club. It was away from the hustle and bustle of downtown New Orleans, in a gorgeous, big white house, with a big front porch, surrounded by trees flanked by a giant flower & vegetable garden. Feeling the years-old injury in his right knee flare up from the stress of the night, Hugo tried to hide the slight limp in his step as he wrapped an arm around Temperance's shoulders, shielding her from the cold breeze, though he knew that it couldn't possibly bother her. "I think I could do with a positively giant glass of rum," he mutters tiredly, hurrying ahead of her to the door to open it for her, feeling relief settle over him like a warm blanket once he stepped through the door himself. "What can I do for you, hm? I could run you a bath? Get you that silk robe you like?" Hugo held her shoulders gently, his eyes full of worry and sympathy. He didn't know how she felt when she took a life in such a way, not really. It couldn't have been enjoyable. But there was a part of him, too mortal & too troubled for his own good, that made him want to comfort her, as if it would comfort him in turn.

She ignored his words and instead did an inventory of his being. She could not smell his blood so she was sure he hadn't been injured. His panic was still evident though and her concern shifted to his heart. She was reminded every moment of how fragile he was. Maybe they needed to have the discussion. While he was not in mortal peril, she would not act without his permission. But all it would take is for her to drain him, bite her wrist, and nurse him through the change. It would be easy. Then she would never have to be alone again.

Temperance blinked at his laughter. It was a normal reaction but still not one she was expecting. She never opened up enough to people to even be considered funny and it always caught her off guard. It showed he was actually ok though. Temperance wanted to kiss him again, to calm him and care for him. She would never with gore covering her. The idea of leaving him so quickly after he was almost murdered caused a growl to rise from her throat. She knew he trusted his people but would they really sacrifice themselves for him? Would they do what was necessary?

Still, she knew he needed to feel in charge. That control was important even if he was just so delicate. "If you take longer than five minutes, I'll come back inside." Temperance said after a long moment of internal debate. She tugged the coat tighter around her even though the cold did not affect her. It was not the best look to be seen completely covered in blood even when so few people actually cared. She looked back at him from the doorway then exited, using his handkerchief to blot at her eyes as though she was crying. Just in case someone was looking.

[bleubcrries]

By the time Hugo picked himself up from having jumped out of the way of the speeding bullet, Temperance was pouncing onto Silas, and Hugo didn't need to keep watching to know what would happen next. But if so, why couldn't he tear his eyes away? What was probably 20 seconds of time felt like minutes as Hugo watched Temperance sink her teeth into Silas's neck, causing a searing cold jealousy to run it's finger down the back of his throat, but he tossed that feeling aside, instead focusing on the power that he felt, being the only one who had felt Temperance's teeth sink into his neck, seen the golden hue of her hungry eyes, and never felt a second of fear. All that Hugo could hear over his heart in his eards was the struggled cries of Silas and the booming sound of Le Fric playing over the loud speakers, each verse punctuating the bloody death of Silas Wilson. When Temperance finished the job and rushed to Hugo's side, it took him a moment to break free from the frenzied state of shock he was in, the adrenaline making his pupils swell into big, black moons. "I-I'm fine, really," he managed to say on autopilot as he was finally able to drag his eyes from the large pool of blood to Temperance's face. Maybe it was the shock, maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the lingering effects of the cocaine he'd done three hours ago, but Temperance's remark caused Hugo to burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking incredulously. "Yah. Yah that... is going to be a bitch to replace," he agreed through a wide smile, his large hand resting atop Temperance's as she caressed his face. His smile slowly fell as he registered the blood on Temperance's face, her dress, her everything. He longed to clean it from her until the evidence was gone, until this night could be locked into a chest with all of the other bloody nights. "Let's get you back to the house. Here," Hugo handed her the silk hanky from his pocket and turned to find his long mink coat, an heirloom from his gather, happy to see that it was free of blood and glass, and he draped it around her slender shoulders. "Meet me in the car. I'll get Jonathan and Red to take care of this."

The domesticity she entered into to align with Hugo's life had its perks. She could be relatively sure of his safety at any given point and could spend much of her time with him. He was the most delicate of humans despite all of the posturing he did to prove otherwise. Temperance wanted to protect him from the world. And also devour him. Hugo was an obsession for her, her most prized possession, but also a companion. A piece of humanity she thought that she lost forever.

She could hear the blood of both men in the room. Hugo's rising panic was obvious, as was the anger in the stranger. Temperance shifted just slightly, ensuring that even when the gun was leveled at her forehead, Hugo would be as covered as possible. She almost smiled at the threat of violence. The problem was that while the wound wouldn't kill her, it would incapacitate her and possibly leave Hugo open to an injury. That was unacceptable. Just as she was about to move, Temperance heard Hugo. Almost in slow motion, Silas pulled the trigger and Temperance felt the bullet speed past her. The shattering of the mirror echoed the crack of the gun and Temperance launched herself forward.

When hunting, she was certainly more of a play with her food type. The increased fear just tasted better. She would draw it out, savoring each moment that her prey realized its proper place int he food chain. This was different. Her goal was to inflict as much pain as possible. Hazel eyes were rimmed with gold as her teeth grew. She tackled him and pulled his back to her chest, wrapping her legs around his torso and plunging her fangs directly into his neck. Her razor incisors were not used to drink this time but simply to rip. Warmth spilled over both of them as Silas weakly beat at her legs. It didn't take long before he stopped moving.

Temperance pushed the body away from her with disgust before looking to Hugo. There it was, that alien feeling tightening her chest: fear. What if he somehow got hurt? She stood and walked to him. Her silk dress was stained and the leg that was exposed by the long slit was covered in slowly drying blood. "Are you all right?" She asked, kneeling in front of him. They hadn't discussed it but Temperance knew her decision. If anything happened to him, she would turn him. She couldn't live without him. "I told you the mirrored wall was not a good aesthetic." With a gentle hand, Temperance caressed his face.

[bleubcrries]

Hugo's instinct to protect Temperance was one of love. He hesitated strongly to think of her as a weapon or a shield. Though he'd seen her wounds heal in seconds, seen her tear through their enemies with ease, felt the clean and easy force with which her teeth sank into his neck to feed; love blinded him to those things, and all he could focus on in these moments was that she was the most precious thing in his world. This is why he struggled to hold himself back when Temperance stepped forward, a velvety ease in her voice as she faced Silas, covering the view of the cavernous barrel of his too-big gun. His hands lowered slightly, staying slightly visible in the air so as not to cause Silas to make any sudden movements. Of course, Silas didn't like this. His brain was as simple as they come, and he struggled to compute most concepts, let alone being talked down to by a woman half a head shorter than him. And as always, Hugo had mixed feelings about Temperance's confidence. Knowing who she was, what she could do, he had every credence that she could take care of herself, and him for that matter. But Hugo was perilously human, and mortal to a fault. He always felt fragile, hence his previous penchant for remaining unattached to life itself, and he couldn't help but project that onto Temperance. If he and everything else in his life were so fragile, he was sure that Temperance's existence were no different. Her words, however, struck an unfamiliar chord within him, a feeling that tasted metallic on his tongue, and got his blood pumping the way he did when Temperance rolled her hips on his lap. Bloodlust, perhaps? "What's it to you, bitch?" Silas snapped at Temperance, looking her up and down, measuring her. Hugo could tell that he was restrained by his curiosity of Temperance's confidence-- he was sure that Silas was the kind of man who had beaten that conviction out of every woman in his own life. That said, Hugo was biting a hole in his cheek trying not to snap at Silas for using that language, and if Silas weren't so cowardly as to point a gun right to a woman's forehead, he would've already. Silas lowered his gun, level with the height of Temperance's face, his thumb slowly reaching up to cock the gun. Hugo's blood pumped loudly in his ears, panic turning his face beet red. "Get the fucking money, or the broad gets it." Silas demanded one last time, looking defiantly at Temperance. Hugo felt like he was frozen in limbo, wracking his brain for any way to get the gun out of Temperance's face. He couldn't just stand there, every nerve in his body was buzzing to act. So, as quickly as he could, he jumped two feet to the left, and reached toward his back for a gun that didn't exist. It was more than enough to cause Silas to panic, and panic he did, moving the gun with Hugo and pulling the trigger, sending a bullet wizzing past Hugo's head and into a large mirrored panel on the wall. Well, you've done it, now, Hugo thought to himself as he ducked, bracing himself for the wrath to come.

"The reason I continue to live." Temperance confirmed, beginning to move her hips against his while her lips remained secured to his neck. Nothing explicitly inappropriate but still enough for him to remember she was interested. God, more than interested. Obsessed perhaps. She was entirely obsessed with him. Hugo was the other piece of her that was always missing. Even when roaming around the cold and drafty castled of the early A.D.s, Temperance did not feel as connected as when she was with Hugo. No one else understood her. There was no one else that mattered.

Maybe at one time she still had impulse control. Surely there was a little voice in her head that screamed for a pause to the violence and bloodshed. Something that would stop her leap forward into violence. But that time was mostly buried or forgotten. If there was a version of her that could manage the pure spikes of raw emotion into something that was not simply based on impulse, Temperance forgot it. Her whole life was entwined around Hugo. She couldn't imagine another moment without him, even in the subservient and delicate position she was relegated to.

Temperance allowed Hugo to move her to the side, even allowed him to move in front. She was always amused by his antiquated ideals but the energy in the room was too violent to allow for even a moment of humor. Hugo did deserve the moment of superiority though. As soon as something happened, she would start to move. Human time was significantly slower. Nothing could happen to Hugo, that was the rule. Even if this Silas wanted some semblance of power, he was entering the room of a superior predator. Hugo didn't get to see the entirety of her violent side but it was there. More dangerous than a pride of lions separated from their children. As soon as the gun was pulled, Temperance rose to her feet.

She stepped forward, putting herself between Silas and Hugo. "Come on baby, you know he's not really in charge." She said with a small smile, moving as much of her body as possible in front of Hugo. "Don't you want to talk with the boss? Or even someone more entertaining? Come on, baby." A gun couldn't do anything to stop her but without Hugo's restraint, this skinny drug addict was bound to be ripped apart in moments.

[bleubcrries]

"You're too good to me, my old friend." Diana places a gentle hand on Willow's arm as they walk, giving a gentle squeeze, hoping it conveys all that she can't say at the moment. Traveling so far, and so urgently, has taken such a toll on she and her party. She'd sent a more stately carriage ahead of her, one to follow behind, and hid herself and Rafael in a less extravagant carriage in between, hoping that it would throw off anyone trying to follow her to Willow's kingdom. Her nerves were shot, and her thoughts had had nothing to do but race on their endless travels, an incessant trial of every possible outcome. She'd always thanked the saints for her status as a dowager queen, but she couldn't help but wish someone stood beside her that could take some of this interminable weight off of her tired shoulders. Alas, she knew that no accompanying king could lessen that weight, as she'd learned from Willow. "Oh, lets not bother with that for now. Rafael will make his way to the kitchens eventually, if he hasn't yet. Should you get poisoned by our afternoon tea, I'd prefer to go down with you," Diana winks, a playful grin on her face, as she hopes Willow will appreciate the dark humor. As the two queens reached the library, Diana felt an unfamiliar sense of anticipation in her chest, like she'd been carrying a boulder for miles and miles and she would soon be allowed to finally set it down. It didn't hurt that the palace's library welcomed Diana with the warm hug of books, thousands of them, smelling deliciously of leather, parchment, and the sharpness of black ink. "This is perfect," Diana uttered quietly, taking a look around (out of fascination and habitual caution), and she found herself gravitating toward the warmth of the fireplace, that sense of anticipation rearing in her chest like an unbroken colt. Doing as her friend requested of her, Diana quickened her pace toward the fireplace, peeling the suede gloves off of her hands and dropping gingerly to her knees before the fireplace, careful to keep her dress away from the flames, putting her pale fingers close to the heat and allowing the warmth to thaw the long-frozen extremities. "My bones creak like an alehouse floor, these days. I always feel like that same little girl at my coronation, terrified and clueless and excited... but my bones, they don't let me forget that I'm getting older." Diana sighs, wistful and drained, before she decides that her fingers have thawed quite enough, and she picks herself up to sit in one of the overstuffed chairs, opposite her friend. She takes a long look at Willow, her brows knitting together with concern, the heavy silence of the room broken up by the crackling of the fire. Finally, Diana speaks, quietly, with nothing but love in her piercing blue eyes. "Are you okay? Really?"

"The iron maiden, truly not the worst nickname to have." Willow smiled sadly. She had a vague knowledge of what her subjects thought of her. Or, perhaps, what the members of her court believed. From all the feedback she obtained, Willow was a popular ruler. Her main goal was to make life better for the people she grew up with anyway. Spending the formative years of her life as part of the working class was truly working to her favor. Unfortunately, that same focus on benefiting the people she came from was detrimental when conversing with the ruling class. Her husband supported her pursuit to make equity an indelible right in their kingdom but not all were so favorable. That was one of the possible reasons why she had been targeted.

"Well I am here to promise you that your feet and everything connected are as beautiful as ever." Willow smiled. Despite the overwhelming emotions that brought tears to her eyes at the very presence of her dearest friend, Willow could still see the beauty of the moment. They were together again. Reminiscing on all of the time they lost or the circumstances that brought them together would do nothing but cause heartache. They both had enough of that. "Close, eh?" She repeated with a growing smile. A thought occurred to her, not entirely unwanted. Diana was someone she trusted with her entire heart. The time and distance that separated them was not enough to disrupt that. Perhaps she could finally rid herself of the burden that concerned Oscar and her son. But that was days away. They had so much to catch up on.

"If you would prefer, we can wait until this Rafael has thoroughly investigated the kitchens and request that he provide us with tea. I have not found reason to be concerned with my staff but I do not mind, whichever way you prefer." As soon as they reached the library, Willow opened the door for her friend then stepped inside. She took a deep breath, her sinuses flooding with the gorgeous smell of old parchment and stiffened leather. There were many comfortable seats scattered around the room as well as a half played chess board and a piano. She guided Diana over to a pair of plush chairs sitting against the fireplace which was already roaring. "Please, warm yourself first then we can talk."

[bleubcrries]

Jack nodded a bit too eagerly, welcoming the opportunity to collect himself. Stop acting like a damn fool, he cursed himself internally, losing himself for a moment in the swirling wood grain of the immaculate bar top as he strained to lift his walls back into place. He'd be lying through his teeth if he'd said that he hadn't been thinking about Wolf for weeks, now, ever since he found out he would be returning, and those thoughts only intensified as he drove that big moving truck over county lines, as he pulled up to his grandmother's big, old house. That big front porch, where they used to sit too-close on the porch swing, and pretend they weren't trying not to stare at each other... The peripheral movement of Wolf back to his end of the bar snapped Jack out of his maladaptive daydreaming and back into the cumbrous reality before him. His dark eyes were owlishly wide as he looked at the boy-- man before him. "I- uh- I'll take any vodka you have, on the rocks. Uh- please, thank you." Jack winced at his stuttering, a habit that he had spent years in London trying to kick, a habit that came screaming back to him the second he tiptoed back into his past. "Jeez, I haven't thought about Harley in a long time," Jack rested his nervous hands on the bar, picking at a loose thread on his watchband as he spoke, "He still going steady with Anika? They were attached at the hip back in high school.." Jack realized he was painting himself in a difficult light-- the boy who moved to the big city and came back acting like he had thought of their old pal Harley more than twice in the past 9 years? He was cringing at himself. In front of anyone else, Jack was as cool as a fresh stream, smooth and inviting, a charming smile and adorable dimples. But Wolf, his startling blue eyes, his pink, too-familiar lips, and those god damn curls... Jack wanted to scream. "How, uhm, how have you been doing? You look really great." Great. Word vomit.

There was a strange impulse to walk out of the bar. Also to just light it on fire. Considering that it was his life, the irrational desire was certainly something to ignore. Wolf reached forward and steadied himself on the bar-top he so lovingly shined. He didn't want to be dealing with this. He didn't want to be going through an emotional roller coaster when it was meant to be a calm night before the nightmare of the game that weekend. Taking a deep breath, Wolf set his jaw and straightened up. This was just another customer. He couldn't let himself get distracted by the overwhelming need to moonwalk out of there. As long as the bar was between them, he would be fine.

"What can I get you? First one is on the house." That stuttering, it was so endearing. But there was still a rock of hurt lodged in his gut that wouldn't be ignored. "Grab a seat, I'll be right back." Someone else had stepped up to the bar and Wolf took the opportunity to take a deep breath. Just staring at Jack would drive him mad. Trying to match the funhouse mirror image of the boy he knew with the man that was standing in front of him now. The cheekbones, the jawline carved out of nothing, it was throwing him off. Taking the steps to make the old fashioned calmed him enough so that when he stepped back to Jack, his heart wasn't going to burst out of his chest. "Sorry, Harley needed the night off so I have to cover." He could hear how his voice was off. Just slightly too peppy, that tone he took when working the front desk at his mom's hotel. "I uh, wow. It's been a while."

[bleubcrries]

"Iron," Dianna laughs, one big, charming HA! as she thinks back to her nickname amongst her less-loyal constituents, "There's a reason they call me the iron maiden, and it's not because of my emotional strength." Despite being the most merciful queen in Rusalka history, Diana was, never the less, the first ever queen of Rusalka to rule without a man by her side, and her decisiveness had been ruffling feathers for over a decade, now. This is why she cherished every second that she had with Rafael, and even more so with Willow-- the only two people outside of her daughters who had ever seen her walls come down. "Oh you are such an angel, I don't think I've felt my feet in over a week. The only reason I know they're still there is because I'm still a head taller than everyone in this country." Diana laughs at her own jest, exchanging a glance with her head footman, a sweet older gentleman who had just stepped through the door as she began to leave the room alongside Willow. "Anatoly, I'm going for tea with her majesty, see to it that Rafael doesn't think I've gone missing, yes?" She doesn't stop walking as she makes sure the man understands her request before she refocuses back on her friend. Diana locked an arm with Willow, feeling the need to stay physically connected to the woman, lest she suddenly de-materialize. "Oh, pish posh. You have endured arduous, cosmic tribulations in this past year, and you have done so with the grace of a swan. I'd be concerned if you didn't cry." Diana had warmth prickling in her own steel blue eyes, but she refused to let the damn break before she and Willow were rested and acquainted. She wanted, first and foremost, to be there for her friend, and to discuss the necessary collaborations of their two great kingdoms, lest the war ravish their countries as it has many others. "I fear there is too much to tell, darling, I'll probably forget to relay the half of it. I'll have to introduce you to my amazing chef Rafael, he is simply too good to have left behind. Especially with all those threats of poison, I.... I find I can't eat anything he doesn't make." Diana's poised exterior cracked for the first time since she arrived, but she didn't let the blemish grow, not yet. "Besides, he and I have grown very.... close." The queen smirked, her eyebrows wiggling in a suggestive manner as she looked at her friend with a girlish smile, "I'll have to tell you about him when we're alone. Can't have these fine gentlemen knowing all my secrets."

"I would never pinch you. I fully believe that you are made of iron with strength like this." Willow sighed happily. There really was nothing better than the hug of a friend who loved one unconditionally. She never felt judged by Diana for where she came from, not like some of the royals she met long ago. Before the wars tore their world apart. It had been far too long since she had a friend close. "Please come and make yourself comfortable, I can't imagine how hard the traveling was for you. I have requested refreshments for us in the library. The fire is roaring and it will be warm and private."

It took a moment for Willow to identify why she was crying. It was partly the relief at having Diana safely in her arms. Maybe the fact that she wasn't alone in the large and cold castle. "I apologize for being so emotional." There was no reason to apologize other than the fact that she had spent almost all of her time with near strangers. Showing any display of emotion was legitimately a risk to her life. It just felt good to take a break from pretending to be eternally strong. She wiped at her face before taking Diana's hand and leading her through the castle. "We have so much to catch up on. I must hear about everything." Including who the very handsome chef that Diana brought.

[bleubcrries]

Being someone who had grown up in the city, sampling every drug thrown his way at least once, Hugo could confidently state that being with Temperance and being fed on by Temperance was a euphoria that had yet to be bottled-- and he's not sure that anything would ever match up. And though he was always chasing the high of that connection, he couldn't deny the butterflies in his stomach when he saw her, or the way his heart stuttered when he heard her sweet, steady voice. Something about her felt so unreal; ancient in the best way, like he had worshipped at her alter long enough for her to step into his realm and ravish him. "Oh, your livelihood, is it?" Hugo chuckled, his chest rising and falling with his deep, labored breaths-- he always felt like he'd run a mile after feedings. In truth, he'd never felt so.... loved by anyone before Temperance came along. Even his own mother couldn't have cared less if he had been dehydrated, hurt, or even dead in a ditch. And even though it was in his nature to be suspicious; somewhere deep down, he knew that she cared for him beyond the feedings. Almost nothing could've distracted Hugo from staring at Temperance with literal stars in his glossy eyes, but that something was walking up to his private room right that moment. Unprecedented, the curtain was ripped open with such fervor that a few of the rings popped off of the ceiling rod, and who should walk in but Hugo's number one customer: Silas. Though he stood only 5 foot 8 inches, Silas carried a pistol on one hip, and a fishing knife on the other, and was always coked up enough to take down a gorilla. And though Hugo knew that Temperance could protect herself (and then some), he habitually moved her onto the velvet couch beside him, and stood in front of her, reaching for the knife on his hip. Almost incoherently, Silas began shouting about how the batch he bought was shit and how Hugo needed to give him the money back. "You're fucking dreaming, Silas, get the fuck out of my club!" Hugo shouted, keeping one hand firmly around the hilt of his knife. He could see the redness and anger in the other man's eyes, he knew it wasn't going to be an easy fight, but he also wasn't going to back down and let the man start bullying him, especially not out of over three-thousand dollars. It was then that Silas pulled his gun, far sooner than Hugo anticipated, and he resolutely put his hands in the air, feeling the anger cause him to sweat profusely. "I'll give you the money tomorrow, man, I don't have it with me. You can't be doing this in my club, Silas, just come back tomorrow-- please-- someones going to get seriously hurt." Hugo pleaded, thinking of no one but Temperance. "That's the plan," Silas slurred, sweat beading down his red, pudgy face as he cocked his gun.

"However you would like." She was always the loosest after a feeding. Significantly more when it was from him. Regular people provided a bouquet of neutral flavors. Not unpleasant, but varying in levels of satisfaction. Hugo was everything. He overwhelmed her but in the best way possible. After she transitioned from humanity to the undead, Temperance was sure nothing would ever make her feel alive again. But Hugo would breathe and she needed to be right there with him. As he moved her hips against his, Temperance brushed her teeth against his neck. The fangs were not fully retracted but she didn't break the skin again. He should have been a ruler in her time. The king dominating over continents with a bloodthirsty army lead by her on horseback. Instead he was the king of a dark and loud club. One that replaced bacchanal brothels with loud music and velvet booths. She would serve him anywhere.

"Not a matter of worrying. It is simply taking care of my livelihood." Although that wasn't it. Surely they both knew it. She wanted to claim that she held on to her individuality as long as she could but the truth was that he was the piece missing in her afterlife. Her life before finding Hugo was filled with bloodshed but it was always unexciting. There was no passion. One hand moved up to toy with the buttons on his shirt, already half unbuttoned but not enough for what she had in mind. "You have had six and the scotch negates the water." Temperance added. She wanted to kiss him, to press against him until she was safely absorbed into his world. "Better." She kissed his thumb, both out of affection and for the remnants of nourishment. "How are you feeling? Do I need to get you something to eat?" Despite what he said, she would make him eat and drink something healthy by human standards. Losing Hugo to something as insignificant as lack of vitamins was unacceptable. Although that would mean that she could be with him for eternity.