#metzli and honey

[muertarte]

PARTIES: @honysuckl @muertarte @amonstrousdream

TIMING: Tonight

SUMMARY: Metzli and Leila have a painting lesson and Honey stops by for a routine hangout. She isn't pleased with the new addition to the group.

WARNINGS: Vague implications of Domestic Abuse (no detail)

Worth wasn’t an easy concept. The measure of it changed constantly, contradicting every type of currency, muddying the values of each so much that one never truly knew which one to use. It was up to each person to convert it all themself. Which usually led to buying themself time until they finally managed to plunge into debt so deep they forget the context of their spending. It was a long and arduous process that Metzli had long ago accepted was their fate. It was okay to not have worth. It was okay to pretend to. Especially when it came from Honey and Leila.

The two people who were willing to use their budget on them.

In return, they did their best impression of a brush. Committed paint to canvas, the images of which determined the wage they make so they could pay them the complement of not resigning themself back to Eloy’s teachings and way of life. Take every day and make it their own, keeping true to their silent promise that came with Eloy’s head tumbling to the ground. It was nice, really. For the first time, Metzli was doing as they pleased. Finding two remarkable people who made the symphonies swell strong enough to echo and grow in their chest. One of which was having a hard time getting the forest landscape she was painting just right, causing a chuckle to escape past the vampire’s lips.

“No, no. Leila, push the straight lines and pull the curves. Is okay. Is okay.” Metzli circled behind Leila and slipped their hand over hers, guiding her brush. “Like that, and then blot for leaves.” They nodded, sticking their tongue out in concentration without knowing. “Eso. There go. Better.” Looking back to their friend, Metzli softly bonked their head against hers and went back to their much more accurate rendition, smiling slightly. “Good time?”

The tree looked like a sad little blob on the canvas. It was mocking her, Leila had decided. She had never been exceptionally gifted at art. She had drawn little stick figures in the dirt as a child, and such artistry had never required much skill. What Metzli could do with paint and a brush was nothing short of magic. It was a rare gift that they possessed… and an incredibly common one that she lacked. Why did the tree look like that? She dragged the brush across the canvas again and frowned as it got even more blobby looking. She should really stick to sewing… 

Leila almost felt embarrassed for Metzli to look at the painting- especially after seeing what masterpieces they could create. But there they were, chuckling (chuckling! It was a lovely sound, as sheepish as it made her feel) and guiding her hand so that the blobby, slightly rock-shaped tree transformed itself into a trunk… then branches… then a tree. Magic. Magic that turned a mess into a tree and a slightly defeated frown into the brightest of smiles.

“Push strait, pull curve… blotty leaves…” She repeated, trying to memorize words that she was still trying to put sensation to. The blotting, at least, she knew she could do… she thought she could do. Metzli seemed to believe she could, which was good enough for Leila. “Good time.” As terrible as she was at painting, she was delighting in watching them work and trying to follow their lead. It was all consuming- so much so, that when someone walked through the door, she hardly noticed. Leila was in her own little world of paint and Metzli, and all else had seemed to fade away.

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go. Of course, there had been a fear of it, lurking in the dark of Honey’s mind. But that was supposed to be realized in the future. This night was meant to be tucked nicely into their routine. Despite always craving the thrill of oddities, she had grown fond of the repetition. Nights of wrestling and laughter, perhaps ending with slaughter when the formers spent their energies. Or the moments of quiet, of rest, of simply being together. Such a routine was interrupted by voices, though, the basic sound wasn’t out of the ordinary. There were plenty of times when Anita still lingered, at times even paired with the current female conquest. But Honey knew Anita’s voice. This wasn’t Anita. Nor did it seem like one of those many lovers—when had one spoken to Metzli and Metzli alone? 

Perhaps Metzli had finally found a conquest of their own! Perhaps they would even share. As Honey poked her head around the corner, that hopeful imagining was destroyed by reality. The scene felt too intimate for a simple one-night stand. She knew Metzli had the capacity for such grandeur for the little things. No, it was their eyes that suddenly had her on edge. That look was too familiar, too soft, too earnest, too everything. A look that should only be for someone special, not some stranger. But she wasn’t a stranger, was she? Honey had yet to see that face except for by her mind’s eyes. Formed by descriptors and adjectives she had been forced to listen to countless times, now finally made real. Leila. 

Honey felt cold. One that sent her free-falling under its weight; one that had no interest in sharing her body. Threatening to carve out her insides until nothing was left. She grasped onto the closest other feeling. It was anger who came and burned it away. Turned her into a bubbling mass of spite, but it was better than the emptiness. She wanted to scream. Instead, she smacked away a ball of yarn Anita insisted was for decor and not actual use. Stupid, stupid things. Everything here was fucking stupid. She wanted to rip apart Leila’s stupid excuse for a painting. Grind it under her teeth into a paste. The temptation was strong as she stared at the canvas with intention. But, no. No! She would be mature about this. She was going home. “Ohoooo, no. Ye gonny no get up! Stay right fuckin’ there!” Her finger pointed accusingly at Metzli. “Just keep on havin’ yer damnt fun. Bye!” With that, she marched back to the door.

“Que bueno. Honey, you are here. Do you–” Before Metzli could invite their best friend to join, the energy changed completely. There was anger in her voice, in her whole body, and it collided with one of Anita’s pieces of decor. Their brows furrowed together, utterly perplexed by how quickly things took a turn. Metzli searched their mind, trying to decode what exactly they had done to incite such a sour mood from Honey.

Had they made plans? No, that couldn’t be it. Plans could never be forgotten, and they most certainly wouldn’t have told Leila she could come over had they made arrangements to spend time with Honey. Time was sacred, Metzli knew that better than anyone. “Honey, ¿que pasa? Why are you upset? Can fix. I can fix.” They all but begged as they trailed after Honey, terrified of the idea that they’d done something to hurt their friend. That’s not what friends did. That’s not what family did. Now that they had family to speak of, they took special care to make sure they did right by Honey.

“Why do you leave?” Metzli took a hold of her wrist, tugging back toward the room. “Why?”

Leila’s head snapped up as a voice that seethed with hurt broke the peaceful silence that had fallen over her and Metzli. Honey… A face was finally put to a name. She might have been excited to meet Metzli’s dearest friend, had it not been for the hurt she heard in the woman’s voice. She felt sick to her stomach. A nightmare in waking form. 

Metzli was gone after Honey, practically begging the woman to let them fix something to keep her from walking away. And Leila say frozen. Trapped in the room as the voices got further away, all the while knowing that- at least on some level- she was the problem. After a moment or two, the mare crept towards the edge of the doorway, hovering in the space between as she waited and listened. There was a piece of her that was mad at this stranger for not listening to Metzli. But the stranger had known Metzli far longer than Leila had. Honey had every right to be upset… after all, Leila didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong much of anywhere.

The more she listened to Metzli plead with their friend, the more she wanted to disappear. I’m sorry, I’m leaving, enjoy your night. It wouldn’t have been enough. And then Metzli might think she was upset at them… it was all so complicated. She stayed in the doorway and waited. Maybe she would run. Just like she always had. Yes, running seemed like a good idea. Honey wouldn’t have to be bothered with her now.

There was a gratefulness for her lack of breath, because if not, Honey would be choking on the tension. It stuffed her ears instead: a loud silence that muffled everything else. Leaving her alone with that anger. She hated Leila—hated her softness that always made it easy for others to love. A softness she herself could never manage for long enough. Just as she failed to then. Some angry, hungry, rough thing. But the anger was all preemptive, racing right to the finish line before the gun was shot. It’s not like she hadn’t been on this path before. Love-filled eyes hardly had time to look at anything else. Anyone else. Especially not her. Fate had once graced her with brevity. Never staying in a place long enough to care when her friends pranced off to others. Or, well, never bonding enough so she could trick herself into not caring. But she had more than bonded with this one, forging their relationship into steel. At least, so she thought. Until she found herself once more at the start of the end. 

So lost to that end, Honey hardly noticed Metzli’s pleas. Part of her suspected it was a trick of the mind again—more sweet imaginings. But the hand that gripped her was too solid to ever come from her thoughts. She was surprised. Almost hopeful. People hardly ran after her. But in that hope came confusion. A storm of messy thoughts more chaotic than her premature grief. What the hell did Metzli want? “Go back to her.” Just as her anger burned, so too did her hope. It became a hungry thing. Eating away all reason until she was just one thought. One wondering. Who would be chosen? “Or make her leave.” 

Shock seared into Metzli’s chest, cold and sharp. Had Honey actually given them an ultimatum? Their grip tightened around Honey’s wrist out of panic, their head full of thoughts that filled their tongue just as quickly, but nothing came out. Muffled and dry squeaks met the air, and it was all Metzli could do to not run. They couldn’t make that kind of decision. They wanted both.

“Why?” Something finally scratched through from thought, to speech. Honey was passionate, but it never became a blade pointed at the vampire. “You save me. Y-y-you gave freedom.” Metzli fell to their knees, the weight of their thoughts too heavy to keep standing. “Why take it back?” They whispered, tears threatening to fall. “I love you, so why take it?!” The words weren’t meant to be a shout, in fact, they weren’t meant to be said at all. Metzli had never said those words before. 

Having never experienced love, it was a hard statement to make. But they had now, because of Honey. They loved her. In all the books they read, wasn’t love supposed to be able to spread? Isn’t that why it was so beautiful? Each type was different, but all around still so powerful. “I want both. I want you and her. I w-want choices!” Metzli choked out the final part, pulling Honey’s hand to their forehead with a fragile composure. “Please, mariposa.” They whispered their final plea, a nickname only used in their head before, slipping. “We grow family. Please. Both. I love you. Always have. Not stop. Ever.”

Leila felt like an intruder, darkening a doorway she never should have been in. Some part of her was used to seeing the things that should be left hidden. It was what had kept her alive for so many years. But this was different. This wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a make-believe situation that a stranger would wake up from. This was real. She was listening from another room to a nightmare in the making right there, in the waking world. Metzli’s best friend giving them an ultimatum, Metzli pleading for both of them. 

She felt her feet dragging her back, back, further into the room, further from the door. That old instinct pleading with her to run, her body itching to leave when things got bad. And yet, her heart wanted to stay there in the middle of a rapidly unfolding mess. Her chest felt tight- if she were something more alive, she might have said she couldn’t breathe. But it wasn’t that… she knew what the sensation was. Leila had tasted it in thousands of nightmares. Guilt. 

She bumped into an easel- she hadn’t meant to, but the quiet hissed “Shit-” rolled out of her mouth in instinct. The painting wobbled. Her ugly little attempt at art, aided by Metzli’s hand. Leila lurched to steady the canvas, some inane desire to protect art that she was certain the woman on the other side of the wall would like to see thrown out the window taking over. She took it with her. The canvas accompanied her into the shadowiest corner the mare could find, and while it stayed real, she slowly melted away into the dark until she was nothing more than a faint outline and a pair of sad red eyes that were fixed on a smudged little tree on a messy landscape.

The hope did not find that feast it seeked. It collided into a familiar wall, left to starve once more on the other side. Alone in that emptiness. Perhaps in another time, Metzli’s distress would have overcome Honey’s own. Perhaps her voice would have grown low and soothing like a summer’s creek. But all the emotions, both in herself and surrounding, made her heart roar into white waters. “Am no takin’!” She spat back, her confusion adding to that whirlwind. Her love made her mad, it was too strong to simply be forfeited. “Want you to take! To keep it! Please!” Such a love was laid bare at Metzli’s feet, vulnerable and starving, yet they hesitated. No, they took their damn time! A confliction caused by a woman they had hardly known for a blink. It was maddening, that someone who had just stepped into Metzli’s life was already of equal footing to her. How much longer until the woman surpassed? Everyone picked the softer ones. Her biting nature was too indiscriminate, always biting too much. 

As it certainly did then. It ate away at Metzli until they grew almost too weak to stand. She was so hungry. Too hungry. The sight made Honey the same—her feet swayed under the weight of her emotions. Her guilt almost won against her hunger; her hand almost reached out to Metzli in a sweet embrace. Almost. Until the mention of family. The thing she yearned for most of all suddenly dangled in front of her. But only to taunt. Like always it never stayed—it was never right. “Family? This is no family,” she hissed. Her voice felt like bile that struggled to breach, only to erupt into a vicious mess, “How dare- you got no idea- gonny no speak a’ family!” No. Family was full, blind devotion. A love so full you had no room for anyone else—so beautiful you had no care for anyone else. You could bite all you wanted and there was always room for seconds. It wasn’t hesitation. It wasn’t this! She could have lunged at Metzli for daring to suggest otherwise. Her teeth grinned and popped against each other with that wanting. 

Honey was right. She was right a lot of the time. It was the reason why Metzli trusted her so easily in the first place. Well, it took some convincing, but after all the teachings Eloy gave, they learned never to give something so precious to anyone else but him. Honey, though, was different. Metzli could see that from the start. Her precarious way of speech that always built itself on a foundation of honesty, was something the vampire had never seen. Honey backed the the saying ‘the truth will set you free’ and took Metzli’s hand without hesitation. She was the reason they were standing in their own house, in a new town, thousands of miles away from the place that held them prisoner their whole life. Everything they knew, everything they were, was because of Honey. She’d taught them everything and given them the tools to finally be a person. Someone that could finally live. 

And as always, as Metzli so quickly learned to accept, Honey spoke the truth and Honey was very often right. She was right, especially in that moment. Metzli had no idea what family was. How could they? No one had ever wanted them in the first place. No one, except for Honey. Somewhere in the depths of Metzli’s heart, they knew she was just angry and scared, but it hurt all the same. Even as her words bit at them with hopeless abandon, they still loved her. They still wanted to change what they didn’t know. They still wanted to be a family. If someone didn’t know, the pursuit of knowledge and experience could be earned. Metzli could only hope that Honey would turn around and let them. Eventually, not then. They knew it wouldn’t happen until she was given time. They couldn’t force it, as much as they wanted to.

“I know. I know I-I-I not know anything about family! You are right! You are my first, Honey. Not know anything until you save me.” Metzli got to their feet and raked a hand through their curls, looking desperately at Honey. “Want me to take? I take then! I take you and her. I take. You are hurt. I will fix and I will show you love when you let me.” They stepped closer, tears streaming down their cheeks, seeing Honey on the brink of something. Whatever happened, they wouldn’t let her go. She could run, but they’d match her speed until she realized she wasn’t abandoned, that she didn’t have to push anything away but her fear. Abandonment made people claw viciously until they reached some sort of purchase, even if it was to their own detriment. Metzli wasn’t emotionally intelligent most of the time, but they were observant enough to know that. “Go be mad. Go breathe. I will come to you when you are ready. I promise. Hold that to old ways.”

Leila could hear it all from her corner of dark and shadow. She knew she had no place in the conversation, and yet she was the silent third party. The spoken of other. The hurt in Honey’s voice ate at her, and even without seeing the woman’s face, she could see the hurt that Leila had caused her. Honey had saved Metzli and given them a home with her. She had earned Metzli’s trust over time and struggle. Who was Leila? Who was she to just walk in and get trust? She hadn’t felt sick in so long- what cause did an already dead body have to feel such things- but the world spun around and around the mare as she listened to voices plead and yell, but was no longer to make out the content. 

The corner grew darker and darker, as if the shadows piled on top of one another so much that no light could ever exist there. The painting stood out from the darkness, a canvas smeared with paint. It seemed like an entirely different time rather than just a few moments later. Time became nothing, and so did the mare. She was just darkness in a corner, listening as voices begged and pleaded and hissed…

“Aye! Ye no ken nothin’.” But what could they have known of it? Metzli’s only examples were bruises and cuts and absent hearts. Of course they hesitated. “Right… right. How could y- just a bairn taught by mean hands.” Honey was expecting too much from them. She shouldn’t be expecting at all! Her family would find her soon. There was no need to be upset… so why was she? Why did she have to be so fucking impatient!? All she needed to do was wait. Play her cards right and eventually get a full house. Simple! She will have her family. And Metzli will have Leila. It will be fine... Despite the logic, it did nothing to dissuade her feelings. 

“...Better take. I take, you take.” Honey huffed. She wanted to rip something apart. Or, someone apart. The more Metzli talked—those sweet words she felt foolish to believe yet believe she did—the more she couldn’t bear to consider the notion for them. Nor could she consider it for Leila, but because she couldn’t find that little temptress. That left just herself. So, Honey’s nails pressed into her arm, sharp and eager, until streaks of ink leaked out. There was some satisfaction in that pop of pressure. But not enough—it was rarely enough. It only weakened her anger to allow room for her woe. Reduced to a child who missed her family. Her eyes joined her arm in its leaking. Those tears she had cried many times before.

Despite Metzli’s own tears like water to the seeds of her guilt, a part of Honey enjoyed that they were there. That they were for her. It was just the two of them, and nothing else. Made into one being of multiple souls. Until she was told to go. Go? No! She wanted to keep biting—to devour them whole. Be that one being forever. But, Metzli must surely know that too. That look on their face, she had seen it before. They didn’t want it—they couldn’t handle it. Right. They were not family. “Fine,” her voice was too sharp and quick. She didn’t care. “Will go be mad.” Away in seclusion so that rising storm could bite no one but herself. She turned to leave. Well, not fully. She hesitated at the door. Though they were not family, her love did not falter. “... Promise I will be back.” Not that night. Or the next. But, yes, eventually, for she could not stay away for long. In the present, though, she was gone.

As much as it made their heart bend and contort under the weight of Honey’s ire, Metzli’s eyes remained soft and tearful. She yearned for her home, and while they could never understand what it must’ve been like to have such a tight-knit unit, Metzli liked to think they at least understood desire. They’d always wanted to feel, to experience what it was like to want and be wanted in return. Honey had had that, and she was looking for it. Maybe, Metzli thought, they’d never be good enough to be a suitable replacement, but they could give Honey the complement of not giving up. And they wouldn’t. They would take and wait for her promise to be fulfilled, for her return. 

“Am…am—” Metzli returned to their bedroom, unable to find Leila as they scanned the area they were painting in. Right. Alone. The realization should’ve hit them like a tidal wave, but instead, Metzli felt nothing. In spite of this, tears streamed down their face as they settled into their couch and stared at the wall. They hardly noticed the out of place painting, somehow sticking to the wall and taking away from the cohesive and balanced decor they’d worked so hard to put together. All they could do was stare and wait. The promise would be completed eventually. Metzli just needed to be patient. It would be okay. Love had a way of winning, of persisting above all else. 

Leila hardly noticed when the voices stopped, when everything went quiet out in the hallway. It wasn’t until Metzli’s voice cracked through the silence in the bedroom like thunder that the snapped back to, out of her mess of thoughts. She watched them look around- for her she realized. There was a lump in her throat as she watched tears stream down their face. The painting in her hands clattered unceremoniously to the floor as the mare pushed herself back to her feet and back out of the shadows that she’d let herself be swallowed up by. 

“I’m still here-” Her voice cracked while she forced her face to stay as steady as possible. She felt terrible- about Metzli, about Honey, about it all. And she had hid, the coward that she was. She hid. It wasn’t her fight, but she shouldn’t have- she shouldn’t have… Leila would kick herself for it later. For that moment, she would simply walk over to Metzli, past the abandoned paints and brushes and canvases, and pull them into the tightest hug she could. 

[skiptomy]

finished commission of an OT3 in that pose from that one Victorious (tm) pic

folks in the painting: Abigail (she/her), Metzli (they/them), and Honey (she/her)

[magmahearts]

TIMING: current PARTIES: @amonstrousdream, @muertarte, & @magmahearts LOCATION: downtown wicked's rest SUMMARY: while out for a walk on a dreary day, metzli and leila run into cass, who isn't her usual perky self. CONTENT: none

The clouds glided in the sky overhead, gifting the area with shade. A kind of reprieve that only a vampire could appreciate. Tossing the umbrella aside, Metzli took Leila on a walk. Their arms were linked as they strode around the town, the quiet a calm breeze among the crowds of people going about their days. They liked it that way, and it was nice to not be required to be anything extra. Leila never asked Metzli to be more than they were, to play a role they didn’t read a script for.

It was a rare thing that they clung onto. Doing the same when Honey offered them their freedom and never once telling them they were existing incorrectly. In fact, she would tell Metzli the world hadn’t experienced them enough. Not the other way around. They thought perhaps that was why they took to Leila so easily. Honey had been a clear example on who they could enjoy and trust, and while their girlfriend was by no means like their friend, they shared the nature of empathy. A trait that wasn’t always so readily available to people like Metzli, both to evoke and to be given, but they tried.

“Is nice day.” They muttered, staring at the sky as the pair walked together. Eyes were fixated on a particularly odd-shaped cloud. To think, a few years ago, spending time outdoors like that was forbidden. None of that mattered anymore, though. Metzli was free.

For most people, a cloudy sky that mottled the world in shades of gray was the worst sort of day. Clouds often meant a storm was on the way. Clouds blotted away blue skies and stole the warmth of sunshine. But for the pair walking about arm in arm, a cloudy day was, the clouds were a refuge. Leila didn’t need to worry about the sunlight making her skin shimmer, nor the rays of the sun burning Metzli. They were safe. Two normal people enjoying the cool and shade before whatever weather might blow through.

She followed their gaze up towards the sky. A crooked smile crept onto her face as she watched the artist taking in the sky. It was as if the sky was new and extraordinary. A piece of her wondered, in all of those years that Metzli had been trapped with their master, how much they had been able to look up and take in the beauty of the world around them… Leila didn’t need to ponder that question too long. She knew the answer without having to ask. All she could be was thankful that their partner could look up as much as they wanted to now. However, she had the better view, she was sure of it. The sky and Metzli “Beautiful.” 

She was so distracted by her view that she didn’t see the girl headed straight towards her until it was too late. Someone crashed straight into the pair before Leila had a chance to really think.

It was cloudy, which meant there were less people on the streets than usual. Normally, this would be something of a disappointment. Cass liked people, after all, liked to be around them. But lately…

It was stupid, but it felt as if everyone who looked at her knew what had happened. Like they could all tell, somehow, like it was written all over her face, like the blood was still on her hands. She’d scrubbed them until the skin was raw, burned through them with her magma, but she swore she could still see Debbie’s blood under her fingernails. Like it was a permanent part of her glamour now, something she could never shake. Maybe it should be. You shouldn’t be allowed, she thought, to do something like that and get away with it. You shouldn’t be allowed to throw a girl’s body into a pit so deep you couldn’t see the bottom and walk down the street like it was normal. Like you were normal.

She didn’t even know why she was walking. Maybe she just needed to get away from Gatlin Fields, from her cave that was a little too close to the pit where Debbie’s body was already rotting. In any case, she wasn’t looking where she was going; something that became obvious when she plowed right into a pair of people, stumbling backwards. 

Looking up, she recognized one of the two, and logic dictated that the woman holding Metzli’s hand was probably the same ‘friend’ who’d messaged her about the thrift shop. Immediately, shame rose up in the back of Cass’s throat, tasting like sand on her tongue. “Sorry,” she muttered, ducking around the pair to go on her way. Metzli already disliked her enough already, despite the promise she’d bound them to. She didn’t want to make it worse by interrupting their day, by inserting herself somewhere where she was neither wanted nor needed.

Something akin to a scowl began to form on Metzli’s face until they saw who they ran into. Cass, while they hated how she had some sort of control over them, wasn’t so bad. Misguided, if anything. Solitude had a way of skewing one’s views, and with the power to make deals, Metzli figured it was only in her nature to use it. She hadn’t even forced them to do anything for her as of late. 

This, combined with her apology, inclined Metzli to forgive the interruption immediately. Anything past that would be apt to ruin their day though, so they tried to hurry any interaction the trio could possibly have. Especially while Cass looked so…sad. Metzli’s gut told them Leila would force them to stop, but maybe, just maybe, they could persuade her to continue without digesting Cass’s expression. 

“Is fine, Cass. Not upset.” Metzli tugged Leila forward in hopes of continuing their walk. Unsurprisingly, they were met with resistance, forcing a sigh to escape. The possibility of small talk was strong, and Metzli had to choke down a grumble. As much as they loved Leila, they wished her heart didn’t extend so much. But they supposed that’s what they loved about her, too. Unlike them, her empathy wasn’t swiped from her. It only grew stronger with her persistence.  

They recognized each other… 

The mare had grown very good at reading people over her two hundred years. The girl who had crashed into the pair ducked her head, as if she was ashamed to have been seen. Like she was just trying to disappear… like Leila had so often done. And then, Metzli spoke a name that up until that point, she had only seen on a screen. Cass. The girl from the cave… The girl who was living in a cave and had… coerced? tricked? forced? Metzli into a friendship. She didn’t move forward when the vampire started walking again. Instead, she stood watching the Cass girl as she tried to duck around and walk away.

She gave Metzli’s arm a little squeeze, a silent apology before speaking. “You’re Cass?” She took a step in the other direction, following the girl. “I still have those shirts for you…” Leila tried to think of any excuse to keep the girl there, and that had seemed the best choice. Superhero shirts. She’s a child, practically… So young… She didn’t want to scare the poor thing off, but there was something wrong… She could tell with one look at the girl’s face. Though as to what it was, she wasn’t sure…

“Sweetheart, are you alright…?”

Metzli seemed content to move along, because of course they were. They’d made it pretty clear that, without coercion or force, they had no desire to be anywhere near Cass. And who could blame them? Even before the supermarket, Cass wasn’t the kind of person people liked. Her own people hadn’t wanted her around, couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. How could she expect anyone else to feel any differently? Especially now, with the blood on her hands and the ash on her tongue. The only reason Nora, Van, Thea, and Ren wanted to hang out with her was the promise bind she’d talked them all into, and Metzli was the same. If not for her ability to force people into being her friend, she’d be just as alone as she had been when she’d been dropped off on the mainland all those years ago.

But Metzli’s friend didn’t know that yet. She’d only spoken to Cass once, had been too concerned about the cave to realize that the girl living in it wasn’t someone worth worrying about. She was still trying to give Cass t-shirts, still trying to help her, and Cass deserved it even less now than she had before, was even worse than she’d been in the beginning. Was this how things were going to go forever? She’d just keep getting worse and worse for however long she lived, adding more and more blood to the stains Debbie had left on her hands, in her soul? The thought of it made her nauseous. The fact that Leila knew none of it and wanted to help made it worse.

Leila asked if she was okay, and as much as Cass wanted to lie, she knew it would be obvious. She’d never gotten good at hiding the ill effects fae tended to suffer when they attempted to tell even small lies, and claiming to be fine when she felt like this? That was a big lie. A monumental lie, something unparalleled. So she said something true instead: “You don’t have to worry about it. I’m sorry I ran into you. I didn’t mean to interrupt your day.” Because that was all she’d ever done, wasn’t it? Interrupt people, inconvenience them. It was all she was good at.

Metzli began to grumble, letting go of Leila’s hand to pinch the bridge of their nose. Sure, Cass had swindled them into a friendship, but even worse, she reminded them of themself. She was lying, not to them, but to her own mind. She wanted comfort and needed people to care. Yet, she was trying to convince everyone that they could move on, that they could ignore her. She was doing it quite poorly, at that. 

The vampire could see past the facade, having used similar words before in their youth. When iron fists taught Metzli that the people that were supposed to fill a role they had signed up for, never would. Mother and father. They apologized for their own existence because the people at fault for it so clearly regretted every step that led to their birth. Metzli wasn’t sure what kind of past caused Cass to take a similar path of apology, but they knew they wanted to save her. It was selfish, really, and a double-edged sword. If they could save her, then it would prove they could’ve been saved, too. Only, no one ever came to their rescue. 

“Just speak your truth, idiot.” Metzli sighed, a perplexed look of frustration painted on their features. Mostly, they just looked confused and uncomfortable. They knew they had comforted incorrectly. They could feel it. “That…that is not comfort, is it?” The question was pointed more toward Leila, but Metzli looked at Cass, too. 

The girl was decidedly not alright. Her answer, avoidant and apologetic, was evidence of exactly that. Leila wondered how often that sort of answer had worked for Cass- how many times had she told people not to worry and to go on with their lives… and how many times had people listened? The mare frowned, scanning the girl up and down for anything obvious, but… no… no, she didn’t have any injuries. Leila felt silly- she was a stranger to the girl, and yet, here she was worrying and fussing like she’d known her for ages. 

Maybe that was what happened after all those years of loneliness: she couldn’t help but care immensely about the people who wandered into her life. 

Metzli’s words were… well, they were blunt, but they weren’t wrong. Cass’s words weren’t lies, but they were obviously not the truth. “... Not quite, but I think it was actually necessary in this case,” Leila replied quietly to her partner, her eyes flitting around for somewhere to sit and talk- or at the very least somewhere a little bit more private to stand than the middle of the sidewalk. “It was an accident, it’s alright… But do you need help? Or to talk? It wouldn’t be a bother… Like I told you before, if you need anything…”

There were two very different brands of comfort taking place; Metzli’s blunt attempt at convincing Cass to put a voice to her problems, and Leila’s gentle reassurance that she was free to do it if she needed to. Both felt warm. Both felt suffocating. It was funny; all Cass had ever wanted was for someone to ask her if she was okay and care about the answer. Now she had two people doing just that, and everything in her screamed that they were lying to themselves and to her. They didn’t care if she was all right because they couldn’t, because no one could. If Cass were the kind of person people loved, someone would have done it by now. She knew that. 

She swallowed the tears that sprung to her eyes, her throat aching with the weight of them. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Even if she weren’t this messed up, hodge podge, magazine cutout collage of a person, she wouldn’t be able to tell them what was going on. She’d made a promise, and she was bound to it. In order for it to be amended, everyone would have to agree. And Cass couldn’t ask that of them. She couldn’t ask them to put themselves in danger for her comfort. Not when her comfort had never been worth pursuing for anyone. 

“I don’t need anything.” Her stomach clenched so badly with the lie that she nearly doubled over. The truth was so much more pathetic: I don’t know what I need. Or maybe what I need is too big for anyone to ever give me, or what I need is so much more than what I deserve. “I can’t — I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bothering you, for — For making you feel like you have to —” Her throat was tight, her lungs strangely empty as if the air around them wasn’t enough, as if nothing was. “I’m sorry. You were having fun, and I ruined it. That’s — I do that, but I don’t mean to. I don’t.” 

Instinct took over, eyes softening and body going forward the moment Cass bent at the obvious illness that took over when she lied. Metzli hated lies, but they couldn’t be angry when they could both not feel the anger and they understood the way Cass was mostly lying to herself. “You do not have so much power to ruin happiness.” Metzli stiffened just as they finished their sentence, realizing that when they reacted, they had wrapped their arms protectively around Cass. 

They let go and backed away as quickly as they could, stuttering awkwardly. “S-sorry. Not mean to—I…Leila?” Metzli rubbed the back of their neck and they quickly retrieved the fidget cube they were gifted for moments like then. When they felt the pinpricks beginning to sting at the tips of their fingers and a ringing filled their ears. Their thumb rolled the small joystick on one of the sides, clicking every so often when they pushed down. When they refocused enough, they looked back toward Cass and sighed. 

“Girl,” Metzli called to Cass, gesturing a hand toward themself, and then to Leila. “Maybe not talk about what happen, but maybe we get sweets. She is good at picking.” If anything, a good distraction always helped. Metzli was alone when they found theirs. They had to be. It wasn’t like their parents enjoyed the fact that they wasted their time on something that made them happy like drawing. 

Metzli was hugging the girl. 

Leila watched it happen, as if the vampire was taken over by pure instinct. She watched their eyes go soft, watched them rush forward and gather the girl up and hug her tight before speaking. And their words… well, she couldn’t have said it better herself. There was a pang in her chest, a little fluttering hop of a dead heart too filled with emotion for it’s own good. The moment ended suddenly, but the feeling remained. Later, when the girl had gone, when it was only her and Metzli once more, she would tell them she was proud. 

Metzli focused on their cube for a moment and Leila slipped in, taking over whilst giving them time to ground themself and refocus. “They’re right… You didn’t ruin anything. And you certainly didn’t ruin our happiness… Now, as for whole ‘making me feel I have to’ bit,” The mare tilted her head, giving the girl a look that all but said Don’t be silly, dear before leaning in, her voice low and conspiritorial. “I am an ancient old lady who enjoys helping people. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t offer.” She winked. 

Her attention swivelled back towards Metzli when they spoke once more. The mere mention of sweets was enough to make her mouth water and her eyes go wide. Even though she had taken to feeding every couple of days, sugary things kept the edge off of that gnawing want that came with the scent of sleepy humans and daydreams. “Ice cream.” It took her all of two seconds to blurt out a thought. Leila’s eyes flicked back towards Cass. “Do you like ice cream? There’s a very good ice cream parlor nearby. Every flavor you could think of, plus more. And they do not skimp on toppings.”

If she was being honest, Cass could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d been hugged in her life. Hands had been used to hurt her far more often than they’d been used to comfort her, but she didn’t flinch when Metzli approached. In spite of the fact that she knew the vampire wouldn’t speak to her at all if not for the words that bound them, she trusted Metzli. If Metzli hurt her, it probably meant she deserved it. 

But… that wasn’t what they did. Instead, they wrapped their arms around her in a way she’d longed for all her life. It was impossible not to sink into the embrace, and impossible not to miss it when Metzli pulled away. But she didn’t protest all the same, didn’t ask for that gentle touch to return. It was clear that Metzli needed a moment; Cass could understand that.

Leila was nice, too. Cass didn’t know her well beyond the online conversation that she’d cut short after the supermarket fiasco, but it was clear that she really did care. Or… that she really thought she cared. Cass knew better than to believe it would last, even if Leila wasn’t human. She’d been abandoned by just as many shifters and undead as she had fae, over the years. They all seemed to agree on one thing — that Cass was too human for the supernatural crowd, and too supernatural for the human crowd. In between was a terrible place to be. 

But she’d gotten good at enjoying things while they lasted, too. And she did love sweets. “I like ice cream,” she said quietly. Humiliatingly, she found that she was struggling not to cry at the offer. Like someone she’d literally forced into friendship and their girlfriend offering to get ice cream with her was the same thing as being genuinely loved, like she was stupid enough to think this would be happening at all if Metzli hadn’t accidentally thanked her the first time they’d spoken. It was stupid. She was stupid. 

But she did want ice cream. 

The way Cass into Metzli didn’t go unnoticed. Had they been better at existing around others, at simply being a person, they might’ve lingered a little longer. It was as if their own childhood was tearing through and giving them a chance to alter the outcome of a life lived without love. But they were nothing, weren’t they? Most days, as much as they wanted to experience more than a void, they felt nothing.

In spite of this, Metzli knew they loved Leila and Honey, but it didn’t seem like enough despite what they were told. Nothing begets nothing, yet their loved ones constantly tried to dismantle that belief. Would it ever be torn apart into shred and tossed into the wind? Would that very wind blow it back to them and leave papercuts across their skin? Metzli, for a moment, thought perhaps that had already happened. Their body was marred, forever left with the marks of a life racing through pain.

But finally, they got to slow down. Sure, that child in them fell to their knees, broken and battered, but Metzli knew they needed to heal that kid, so…they picked them up. They were a reminder that every weed was still a flower. They just weren’t appreciated enough. It was still a life that needed affection and care, and it was okay to need those things. Cass was a weed, too. Artificial as it may be through their robot heart, Metzli pocketed their fidget cube and stepped forward. They decided to try.

“Ice cream, then. I buy.” Metzli offered their hand to Cass, knowing Leila wouldn’t mind. She’d likely hang close or nudge herself beneath their half-limb as they walked. In Metzli’s head, the idea looked parental…almost familial, in a way. They didn’t mind that.

She watched Metzli hold out their hand to Cass and her heart swelled with pride. Here was this person, her person, who had gone through so much. Who had suffered at the hands of others for so long and had the scars to count each encounter. And instead of letting another suffer, they held out their hand. They were trying. Leila wasn’t sure they saw it like that… but she did. 

Leila knew she wasn’t the one who could reach out- Cass didn’t know her save from their short lived DM conversation. So instead of trying to hug her or take her hand as well, she offered a smile of encouragement to the girl before pressing a kiss to Metzli’s shoulder on their half-limb side. If the girl wouldn’t have heard, she would have told them how proud she was. But for then a kiss would do to say what had not been said.

Ice cream was always a good solution to sadness. The amount of times she’s spent her death day eating ice cream and ignoring humanity were about as many as she what’d lived through. Leila knew that the cold dessert soothed pain. She just hoped it would start a conversation about whatever it was eating at the young woman’s heart. 

Metzli held out their hand, and normally, Cass would take it and consider it a victory. Normally, she’d feel like she’d accomplished something, like she’d finally managed to clear some invisible hurdle and make it another step closer to the friendship she craved so entirely. But today? With Debbie’s dead eyes seared into her mind and the promise she and the other girls had made to one another over that pit sitting heavy on her shoulders? Nothing felt victorious, nothing felt like an accomplishment, nothing felt good. 

So today, she hesitated. Only for a moment, only to see if that hand would be pulled back and yanked away like everything else always had been. But it stayed. It stayed within reach, and Cass had never been good at denying herself something she wanted even when she knew it was going to blow back on her, even when she knew it would hurt her in the end. Whatever friendship Metzli and Leila had to offer would be taken away eventually, because it always was. Everything always was. But would it be so terrible to cling to it while she could? Would it be so unforgivable? 

Slowly, she reached out and took Metzli’s hand. Her grip was weak enough that they could pull away if they wanted to, though considering the fact that they were a vampire, they’d probably be more than capable of doing that anyway. Still, it felt nice to offer them the choice. Especially considering she’d already taken choice from them once. (And was still taking it by not releasing them. She was selfish. She knew she was selfish. She knew it wasn’t a forgivable thing to be.) “Okay,” she agreed with a quiet sniff. “Yeah. We can go get ice cream.” It occurred to her that someone who saw them walking like this might mistake them for a family. It occurred to her that she might want them to.

Wishes weren’t something granted to people very much like the ones in the trio. Each of them taking careful steps so as to never impose on others. Whether it was an iron fist, loud mouths, or conditional and passive love, it all culminated into the same thing. Children who never felt love and dove quickly into whatever well they could find. Shallow, deep, or empty, it didn’t matter.

For Leila, she looked at broken things as if she could make them new. For Cass, she made herself into whatever she needed to be to be accepted. And Metzli? Well, they didn’t quite know yet. They’d been so preoccupied with being hollowed out for decades that they were simply soaking in whatever they could. Tossing out what didn’t work so they could plant the seeds of what did, and let them take root. And whenever Metzli handed the watering can that was their heart to others when they were ready, it would be a silent proclamation of love. They would give others full reign to leave them to dry or to help them bloom. That was the scariest part because the last time Metzli was forced to leave their heart in the hands of another, it was made to dust.

So when they offered their hand to Cass, they were deeming her worthy of their heart. Maybe she had taken their choice away, but only someone so desperate would use her power to do something so innocent as to force others to just be around her. Metzli finally truly understood her at that moment. All was forgiven and they tightened their grip around her hand. They didn’t want to let go anymore. 

[honysuckl]

Blood in the Water | Leila & Honey

PARTNER : @amonstrousdream TIMING : Current. LOCATION : Darkling Lake. SUMMARY : Inspired by the crabs, Honey pretends to also be turned obsidian. Surprisingly, Leila offers to help. WARNINGS : Self harm (sort of)

Did Honey expect this to work? Not as much as she needed. Her expectations were tempered by piling failures—those jollies around town never amounted to the siren call she needed. Of course, this would all add up. Make itself into a cacophony of oddities when paired with the town’s usual quirks—one too brazen for her family to ignore. That was the hope, at least. But the reality was this was fun. This was funny! She laughed in preparation, though she had certainly done just that. Alongside her were a bucket of paint, ready hands, and a dream. Those crabs had caused a buzz with their obsidian attire. Imagine if something more human-like followed that fashion trend. Cause running fits of terror before the cracks ‘claimed’ them too. Ha! She looked to one such openings beside her. A darkness so blank it invited her to imagine whatever she liked, perhaps even those funny little crabs. But it also invited her inside—hungry and waiting. A simple step would have it closing back up again around her, devoured once more. She scratched at her arm until her own darkness shone: streaks of dripping ebony. Oh, how lucky. Her transformation had already begun.

Honey added more streaks of darkness to herself, though without the need for further injury. Her hands instead scooped out handfuls of the paint—so thick it refused to lay flat on her skin. A perfect texture. She had covered most of her legs when she heard it. That familiar crunching of a human, or something close enough. No no no! Too soon! Weren’t all the tourists supposed to be crowding the beaches of the lake? Get out of the forest, you bawbag! Disappointment of the prank’s premature death was soon replaced with irritation upon recognition. Oh no. It was her. The last she had seen the woman had been that dreadful night. She had hoped it would have been the last. But with Metzli’s insistence, she knew it was only a matter of time. How funny that it was Fate itself who taunted her first with the woman’s presence. Honey let out a growl. “Rach air falbh! Piss aff!” 

When her mind got to be too noisy of a place, Leila had always found her refuge somewhere away from people. She hadn’t really had much of a chance to go out on her own since she’d settled in Wicked’s Rest. There was the shop and her customers that busied her days, and then the friends that had slowly made their presence apparent in her life. Metzli. Ariadne. Cassius… Hell, even Teddy when they found their way into the Party Thrifter’s walls. But for as many things she had to be happy about, it felt as if she had three times as many to be upset about. First, there was the matter with the little dreamer with the dreams darker than midnight who she was determined to at least try to help. And then, there was Honey. Honey, Metzli’s best friend in the world. Honey, who Leila was fairly certain, absolutely loathed her. 

She had been trudging her way through the forest in hopes of ridding herself of some of her worries. The trees would give her comfort. But as her footsteps crunched through rocks and leaves in the April air, she had to do a double take. At first, all she saw was a woman covered in dark, thick liquid- like the blackest paint she’d ever seen, like blood, like Metzli’s blood. She was smeared with darkness that glinted like the goddamned crabs that had decided to live in the alley outside the back of her shop when they could no longer enter the shop itself. And then, the figure spoke, and Leila’s stomach dropped. It was Honey. She really did have the worst luck imaginable… Usually, she would apologize. Scurry off down the path from wence she came. But the bizarre scene that was set out in front of her kept her glued to the spot, mouth agape. 

“Why do you look like the shiny crabs?”

The sun was not as accepting as the moon. Where its acceptance ran short was met with a swift end. Honey had been relying on that prejudice to keep that woman away. But no! Of course Leila would be the sort of vampire to snatch herself up a protection charm. Letting herself prance around wherever she liked, with whoever she liked. Ugh. Honey’s disappointment was quickly replaced with determination. Her eyes made quick to search for the charm. None of the various trinkets strewn about Leila stood out. But those made the best charms, didn’t they? The pendant around Leila’s neck looked especially promising in its mediocrity. It also looked very rippable. She should take it and give it to Metzli. It would certainly serve them much better.

But how quick Honey’s mind forgot, the lure of that plot distracting her from the first. The question was a quick reminder. Yes! Like the crabs! Exactly! Pride of the trick working did cause a smile. A second of amusement before she remembered the source, the present company. Her scowl returned to her face, as the paint returned to her hand. She sent that handful straight to Leila. “Acause I wanna look like the shiny crabs.” Her hand went scooping for more ammunition. “Now piss aff afore I shove this one right down yer damnt throat!” Certainly a waste of the materials—there was still so much of herself to cover! Not that her anger made her considerate.

If there had been any doubt in Leila’s mind that Honey greatly disliked her, the scowl on the woman’s face made it incredibly evident. The mare was a blight, not only on whatever it was that Honey was doing, but on the whole of Wicked’s Rest- or at least the places that Honey frequented. Leila had never wished for darkness so much. The dark was her greatest ally and had been her sole companion for centuries. In the shadow of night, the mare could dissolve into nothingness. She could become nothing in the real world, reflecting what she had felt inside for years. But in the light of day, she was trapped in place. It refracted off her already shimmery skin, made her too visible, and kept her trapped in the waking world. 

A fistful of black paint was hurled in her direction. Leila tried to skitter backwards to avoid the spray, but was too slow. Paint splattered across her shirt, her face, her hair… She was sure, in Honey’s mind, she deserved it. The mare tried not to let her appearance perturb her too much… though, it had been a favorite shirt. If Honey wanted to hate her, fine. She would go…

 She was about to turn on her heels when she started looking at the paint with a bit of a sharper eye. It wasn’t shiny enough. Honey could threaten her all she wanted, but Leila wasn’t about to let a project be done wrong. Without really thinking, she marched over to the paint bucket, pulled out the knife Metzli had given to her, and dragged it across her palm. She held her fist over the bucket and watched as glittering dust fell like miniscule stars into the bucket. It wasn’t like it would kill her to lose it. And at least now Honey couldn’t say that the mare had never tried to be nice… “It’ll be shinier now. More crabby.” Leila said before pulling her hand back to her chest and turning to go. 

When that knife revealed itself, Honey laughed at the ill-placed mettle. “Oh aye, fancy a doin’?" How funny! Perhaps she would have respected the display if it had anything backing it up. Metzli had already revealed the woman’s lack of fighting prowess, so this too would lack the usual thrill. But she wasn’t one to turn down gifts so flippantly. Yes! A fight! Well, for as long as Leila could manage. Honey replaced the paint in her hand for her blade, one that was eager to taste Leila’s blood. But it seemed the only one tasting would be Leila’s own blade. Not an unsurprising action, for Honey herself had done the very same in the past. It amused her greatly to see people’s reactions. She would offer no such repulsion to the display, but the blood itself did make her pause. It lacked the familiar dark ichor that ran through her own veins. That expected night sky was instead just its stars. Glossy. Glimmering. Oh Metzli, that liar! This was not one of bloody nights, but one of dark dreams.

Honey watched the blood join the paint. Those dripped stars relented to the darkness of her concoction, but in stubbornness kept their shine. In doing so, the mixture became an ebony that turned to white at just the right angle. Indeed, it did look… a touch more like obsidian. Honey grumbled. She was too annoyed to feel grateful. Though, she was grateful for the idea it sparked. Leila was keen to help, aye? Let’s see how much energy that assistance of hers had. “Can ye scream? Like the chicken who kens the cookin’ pot. I need eyes on me.” 

She wanted to keep walking. God, did she want to keep walking. Leila knew the woman did not enjoy her presence, and while her name was sweetness, Honey had more sting than a swarm of bees. She’s done her one nice act, she could disappear now like Honey had wanted her to. And yet. Leila wanted to know what this woman was up to. If Honey was going to sit there and paint herself obsidian like one of the crabs, there had to be more going on. And so, rather than continue down the path from whence she came, Leila stopped and turned at the tree line.

Could she scream? She wanted to laugh at the question. She had spent years screaming in pure terror from the dreams gifted to her by some other mare. Those years were followed by nearly two hundred years of making people scream. She hated it, but she was good at it. “I can scream…” Leila replied, hesitation mingled with pure curiosity ripe in her voice. “I can scream so that half the town comes running and all eyes are on you… I can scream and make them think I’m terrified.” The question that followed seemed foolish, but the mare asked it anyway. “Are you asking my help…?” And if so, she added mentally, why?

Honey watched the treeline begin to slowly claim Leila. For one so desperate for presence, this was one departure she did not mind. In fact, it was wanted, despite her questioning. Her plan would be fulfilled regardless. She was well versed in how to get people to scream in all the ways that mattered. Fear, of course, was the second easiest. Still, there was a curious tilt to her head when Leila bit upon the bait. With the passion of a self destructive fish, too! How unexpected. Honey would have been more charmed if not for the bile in her throat. But she could still have her fun. Her lips twitched with amusement.  “Oho, aye?” That twitch turned to laugh. “Piss yer trousers, too, eh? Would really sell it.” A joke that thought itself a dare. Another test for how far that generosity would last her. 

Honey’s fingers played with that concoction beside her. Blood and paint truly became one, turned into a swirling galaxy by the will of her hand. She placed a touch on her arm, for there were far more pressing tests to be had. It settled like all the other smears before it, but with a desperation to shine. A desperation only matched by its yearning for attention. Perfect. Her own was stolen by the question whose answer was as obvious as the glint on her arm. “Naw. Am doin’ one a’ ‘em polls. ‘People a’ the Wicked who can survive the wolf attacks!’” She let the farce ring in the air for a beat before she rolled her eyes. She returned to her chuckling. “Aye. Am askin’ for help.” Then she returned to rehoming the mixture upon her skin.

The woman bit back a huff and a roll of her eyes. Perhaps she’d come off a bit too strong with the whole screaming thing. But Leila was confused and frustrated to say the least. What did Honey want from her? From the first interaction, she was convinced that Honey simply wanted nothing to do with her. First the button fiasco, then the painting evening, now this… Wait… no, she was actually chuckling. Was Honey actually amused with her? Had that been a joke? Her mind was trying to catch up and reprocess whatever the hell this strange encounter was as words kept tumbling out of her mouth. “Don’t think I can do that on cue, but if you’ve got a water bottle, a stain’s a stain.” 

The paint really did look like the shiny crab shells now. Perhaps, she thought as Honey smeared the paint mixture across her arm, it was the one good thing her dusty old blood was capable of. Creating things to scare people. But this time, it wasn’t her doing the scaring- not really… and if helping somehow brought Leila into slightly better graces with the one person Metzli cared about most in the world… well… “Alright, then. What is it that you’d like me to do, exactly, save the screaming and potential soiling of my pants for your own amusement and the selling of my fear?”

So the mares can piss. Good to know. Did that make dreams a type of liquid? A wondering for another time, for the present called for a different kind of fluid. “Nooo. No water on me. Well, no yet. Soon be aplenty swishin’ ‘n swashin’ all ‘round me.” Good performances needed a grand finale! Especially if any hoped to be at least a whisper in this sort of town. Many made quick to remove any off the lips, replacing them with supposed ‘facts’ and ‘normalcy’. Oh, the werewolf downtown? Yeah that twere just a big doggie! Or a really dedicated cosplayer! So many truths nowadays were kicked under the rug known as ‘cosplayer’. Honey’s little jolly would instantly be discarded just the same, deemed as paint on the skin. Which was fair, for it was the truth this time! But what if the woman screaming of obsidian jumped into the waters… only to never return? Of course those who liked to hush would find their explanatory normalcy. But it would far less easy. 

What is it that you’d like me to do. Oh, they both knew the answer to that, didn’t they. Honey gave Leila a knowing look, one that spoke for her. I want you to leave. Not the situation specifically, but the entire town. No, the entire state! But she knew any encouraging action for that want had its consequences. Metzli’s fondness was both Leila’s curse and blessing. “Is all I need. Got all else all good ‘n ready right here. Once am done, gonny go screamin’ on down yon hill.” Her head motioned towards its direction. “Will keep runnin’ on past all the duckies playin’ in that big ol’ pond. You be there to help give their eyes ‘n ears guidance. Then- splash! Poof! Am gone into the waters. Foooreeeever. Well. ‘Til the moon pops up.” In the time it took to explain her plan, she had finished covering her arm. That left the other as her only bare limb left. So close. “And you, eh. Whatever. Leave? Swim? Leave? Dinny care. Is a nice day for all sorts.” Which made it so perfect. So many waiting eyes. 

Leila didn’t need Honey to speak for her to know the answer to what to do. She was starting to get the feeling that the woman would love nothing more than for Leila to be swallowed up by the earth never to be seen again, or be sent running to another continent, or simply stop existing all together. As long as she was there, she posed a threat to Honey and her relationship with Metzli… She had never wanted to hurt anyone. Not in a million years. But her existence was constantly hurting someone, now- dreaming and awake. She swallowed down the lump in her throat threatening to make useless tears start. No use. 

The mare watched as her blood mixed with the black paint slowly covered Honey’s body, transforming her into a dark and shimmering thing. If it had been Leila sat there covered in paint and blood, she would have been no more intimidating than a puppy or a wet cat. But Honey… Honey was already a force of a person, but with her crab-like disguise, she was down right fear-inspiring. To be on her bad side was already scary enough. By some miracle, Honey only asked her run. Scream and run. And, obviously, make enough of a show that people came running to look at the goop covered creature that would dive into the lake. 

Leila had no idea why Honey was so determined to scare people into thinking she was a crab, and if she was being frank, she didn’t care. Two favors for a woman who would much rather the mare simply disappear from Wicked’s Rest altogether.

There was emphasis on the word leave. She didn’t believe for a moment that Honey didn’t care if she came back or not. The fact that she had suggested it twice spoke volumes enough. Run and make a scene and then get out of here. “Fine… I can do that.” Leila ripped at the fabric of her shirt with a cringe- thank god it was just a shitty t shirt- and tied it around her hand. She didn’t need people asking questions about why she was leaking glitter instead of blood. “I’ll make a scene and get out of your hair. Whenever you’re ready.”

Honey wasn’t blind. She was well aware the effects her antics had on Leila, and wanted to see every last drop of that delicious irritation. While she wasn’t one to play with her food, it was instances like these she made an exception. Like a cat with a ball, she just couldn’t help herself! But when the irritation turned to sadness, when she could see those tears wanting to show, her joy turned unsettled. Always swayed by the emotions of those around her, that look made quick with Honey. Sadness and quilt and mixture of confusing feelings. As dark as the paint on her skin, yet it had her face softening. Before those feelings could fully have their way with her, to turn her face and heart to mush, she forced her attention solely on that paint. There was no point in amusing those thoughts. If she wanted to be successful, to scare that wee thing away, she needed to be comfortable with a few tears. Yes. With a huff, her expression settled back to ambiguity.

With Honey’s full attention, her second arm was quickly consumed by the paint. That made all limbs accounted for. Now it was time for the icing on the cake! Some paint was slapped onto her neck, with a few bleeding out onto her chin. As if the obsidian slowly consumed her, with her head as her only salvation. But for how much longer? Aye! That’s the question she wanted to leave in all the bystanders’ heads. With the paint added, all that was left was to let it dry. Like a fledgling still learning to fly, her arms flapped with abandon. Maybe if she kept it up, she really could have flown. Though, it wasn’t her turn to go running just yet. She looked pointedly at Leila. “Well. Go on, lass. Wait for me by the waters. Trust ye ken when is time for the screamin’s.”

It really was the most bizarre sight the mare had ever seen. 

A grown woman, potentially just as old if not older than herself, smeared with black paint and sparkles, flapping her arms like a chicken whose feathers had been significantly ruffled and was trying to take flight. What only made it worse was the fact that Leila knew the barbed words that the other undead woman had a knack for. It took all of her strength to keep a bewildered giggle from burbling up and escaping her before she could stop it. That was the absolute last thing Leila needed. If she laughed, she was quite certain that she wouldn’t have to worry about Honey and Metzli anymore, because if Leila laughed, she might become a pile of glittering dust twirling about in the afternoon breeze. 

Eyes as sharp as daggers turned back on her, and the mare felt herself standing a little straighter. As if she were toeing some invisible line that Honey had set into place. She let go of a little sigh and turned on her heels, marching back down towards the water. At least she was sure that Metzli’s friend was getting a great big kick out of ordering her around… or maybe she would just enjoy the part where Leila was running away and screaming. Either way, she would put on a show to help Honey. If not for herself, then for Metzli’s sake. 

Back to the trees Leila went, this time fully claiming her. Good riddance, to her and the mess of feelings she wrought. In the absence of voices, Honey’s ears returned to the whistling winds. This company too offered its help, and soon those winds had the paint dry. With the paint secured, it was her limbs’ turn to settle. Settle into motionless, as if carved from true obsidian. She forced them at an angle, stiff and stubborn, with only the hips offering any sort of momentum. A carving come to life. Oh, but one more finishing touch: the touch of privacy! She threw on a pair of glasses—her one last act of fluidity. Then, she ran. Sort of. Her self-inflicted rigor did not allow much aptitude. Oh, but her voice was free to do as it pleased. Her screams silenced any of the surrounding critters, leaving only her shrieked panic. 

“The obsidian! The obsidian got me!” Honey cried, paired with blubbering nonsense. It all rushed out of her mouth in a great mess, the same as her body down the hill. Down to where the trees parted upon her first sets of panicked eyes. Only the eyes followed as she continued, for fear turned their own bodies to rigor. If only they had learned to move against it the same as her. Though her arms were stuck in an eternal bent and her legs refused to bend at the knee, her hips were quick. She moved as fast as the shifting glint on her skin. The crowd gasped and cried with each of her step. She could have laughed, but she disguised it as yet another scream of incoherency. Screaming and stumbling and shining, she finally found herself upon a ledge. It was here that the crowd remembered they could move. Oh, but it was far too late for that! “Obsidian!” The paint shimmered one last time, bidding the audience adieu, before a well-placed trip sent her into the waters. Never to return. 

The woods swallowed her whole once more as Leila trudged back down the leaf strewn path. The sweet earthy scent of spring was kicked up with every step she took, willing herself further and further away from an incredibly complicated situation. For a moment, there was painfully familiar solitude. The trees, tall sentinels staring down at her while the birds that called their boughs home fell silent as she crossed their path. Alone. She had been alone so often, and yet she had never stopped to consider how much it bothered her. If Honey had her way, Leila would be out of town by evening, never to bother her or Metzli again. But… Leila swore she felt the trees pull in closer. Alone again. No, no, not again…

The mare stumbled forward along the path and started to run. Right into the presence of people. Ordinary, normal people. The scream that left her mouth was something ancient. Fear. Real and true fear. But it wasn’t the false fear of the Glimmering Obsidian Honey monster that burst through the brush moments later, shrieking before she stumbled into the depths of the lake. It was fear for the life she had finally escaped coming back for her. She kept running away, and all the while, the fear of loneliness nipped at her heels like a hound waiting for the kill…

In the waters Honey remained. Down in the depths, she found her temporary home. If only it had a window to the shore above, but all she was allowed was trickles of light. She yearned for more—to see the scene that followed her splash. Her imagination supplied what the eyes could not. She could see so clearly the following stampede that made a vacation into a war; it was as if she never left. It all entertained her as she waited. Waited and waited and waited down in the depths. Waited until the streaks of light disappeared, leaving her in the dark. A darkness that knew no up or down, left or right. It had no end, yet pressed against every surface. So empty, so suffocating… That was enough of that. When her head breached the surface, the moon greeted her in its wonderful glow. In the privacy of night, she could finally laugh. 

[singdreamchild]

To Answer The Call || Sofie & Cassius

Timing: Early morning Setting: Sofie’s Apartment Summary: Sofie runs home after a run in with a slayer and reaches out to Cassius for comfort. 

She had sprinted away the moment the slayer had let her go. Sofie was not a fan of being held hostage on the sidewalk with the sun creeping up onto the horizon. Ragged breaths wheezed out of her, as her bare feet pushed her forward. I need to stop wearing stilettos if hunters are going to keep finding me. The thought passed through her mind absently, as she drew in air that she didn’t need.  It was a comforting force of habit, and at that particular moment, she’d take all the comfort she could get. 

Especially since the sun had risen fifteen minutes ago. 

Sofie had taken a twisted path home, convinced that the slayer would follow her. Unless he already knew where she lived… The vampire cursed, the feeling of the sunlight against her skin causing her  to flinch.  Maybe even if they’d let her go, she was dead anyway. She could burn up in the sun, or they could be there waiting for her when she got home. Or maybe they had a friend to do their dirty work. Another few minutes that felt like ages, and her apartment was in view. 

Another five minutes, and she was running up the steps into her apartment, and tucking herself inside, locking the door tight behind her. She went through every inch of her apartment once, twice, three times. Sofie felt as though she were somewhere outside her body, watching herself walk about from somewhere on the ceiling. Sofie walked to the kitchen, snatching up a knife. Metzli was right about keeping a knife. Sofie dropped the cold metal onto her bedside table. She sat down on the edge of her bed, tugging a quilt up over her shoulders. Her lip wobbled as she let the tight control she had over herself go. A thump sounded as her upstairs neighbor began their day. Sofie nearly leapt out of her skin. She didn’t want to be alone right now. Frantic fingers dug through her purse until she found her phone in the depths of her bag. 

Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed in a message. She deleted and rewrote the last two words three times before she finally hit send. 

I know the sun is up, but can you come over? I’m scared. 

______

He didn’t do much of anything on the weekends. Sure, he went out to the club on Saturday nights, but other than that, he kept to himself. The four stone walls of the crypt had begun to prove uncomfortably quiet lately, as if something in him had changed. At that moment, Cassius found himself reading Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur, a collection of poems he found himself enveloped in. So involved in his book, he almost didn’t hear his phone vibrate (he never kept the ringer on). 

I’m scared.

That’s all it took for Cassius to spring up from the stone bench he sat on, quickly pulling on his wide brim hat and black trench coat that he kept on hand specifically to go out in the daylight. Pulling on a pair of gloves to cover his hands, he quickly exited the crypt and into the cemetery. He parked his car close by, nothing he couldn’t get to quickly with his enhanced speed. Usually he was more careful than this, but he knew that she wouldn’t send him something without it being truly important. 

I’m on my way, he sent her in response.

Once he got into his car, the rest of it was a blur. Cursing every time he hit a red light, speeding a bit too fast to get where he needed to be. As soon as he reached her apartment building, he made quick work of parking and unfastening his seatbelt. He pulled out his phone and quickly sent another text, letting her know that he had made it. He lowered his head toward the sun, trying to get as much shade onto his face as possible. 

_____

Her phone had barely gone dark before it lit back up with a response. It was a strange mix of relief and guilt that washed over her. Relief that she wouldn’t be alone in her apartment when a hunter could very well have rethought his decision to let her know and be on his way to finish what he’d started. Guilt that she was putting him at risk. The sun was up. If the slayer had known who Sofie was, it was possible he’d kept tabs on anyone she’d been close to since coming to town. If something happened to Cassius on the way over, she’d never forgive herself. 

She paced back and forth as the minutes ticked by. What if he was too far away? What if something had happened. What if, what if, what if. Her phone lit up again, and she practically flew across her apartment to snatch it up. Her lip wobbled as relief flooded through her. She dropped the phone and ran out her apartment door and down the stairs to the entrance. She pushed open the door, and stopped for a moment, realizing she still didn’t have anything to protect her from the sun. Sofie realized she didn’t give a damn. She’d made it twenty minutes in the sun, one more wouldn’t kill her. She launched herself at Cassius, holding onto him as tightly as she could. 

_______

He may have only known her for a short period of time, but Cassius knew that Sofie didn’t scare easily. Anyone who lived for as long as they had, had seen things. They had seen horrible things and wonderful things. They may be vampires, but that didn’t mean they were heartless monsters. Quite the opposite, he had met vampires that had bleeding hearts. His sire had been one of them, not able to watch a friend die. That’s why he had been so quick to respond, he knew something had to have happened to warrant this response. 

He had no time to look her over as she opened the door open and threw herself at him, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, worrying for her as she ignored the morning sun beating down on her. He took off his hat and placed it on her head. “Let’s get inside, you can tell me what’s happened.” He spoke in a soft voice, pulling himself away enough to look down at her, brows knitted together in worry. “You’ve been out in the sun enough, it seems.” He commented, finally noticing the sunburn on her cheeks, angry and red. 

_________

She felt a hat plop down on her head, a a sound burbled out of her that vaguely resembled a laugh. It was a bit too big for her head, and slipped down on her brow. Sofie tipped her head back to see his face crinkled in concern. His mentioning the sun brought her attention back to the warmth on her skin. A monster burning away in the sun. She thought absently. “Alright,” her voice was distant, but she unwrapped herself from around Cassius, picking up his hand as she drifted out of the sun and into the comfortable shade of the apartment. She led him back up the stairs, and locked the door behind them once the door was shut. 

It occurred to her that someone could have gotten into her home in the few minutes she’d been outside, so she quickly scanned the space to be certain nothing was out of place. Once she was sure, she deflated like a balloon that had made its acquaintance with a pin. “I know the sun is up, but thank you.” She looked at him with an attempt at a smile. “Do you want anything? Tea?” Sofie knew she was avoiding the topic, but she couldn’t bring herself to talk about what had happened with the slayer, and the things she hadn’t known.  Not yet. 

______

Cassius frowned at how absent-minded she seemed, which only increased his worry. Still, it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. His worry only increased, but he knew better than to push someone on something that was clearly still very raw. As they walked up to her apartment, he noticed how she looked around as if waiting to find something… or rather someone. 

He was now certain that something had happened to her now that she was combing her apartment to make sure nothing was wrong, and he stood there, watching with that same worried expression. He had never seen her like this before, so paranoid and filled with worry. He wished he could do something to make it go away, but knew his presence alone would have to do for now. “Sofie,” he said softly, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” he murmured, continuing to hold her. “But you don’t have to pretend, not with me.”

______

Sofie stilled, allowing herself to feel the weight of his arms around her. She leaned into his chest, tucking her head under his chin. She let out a long shaky breath. “You deserve to know. If they tracked me down, they might track you down for being associated with me. And I won’t have you caught off guard.”

Another sigh, and she pulled back a little so she could talk. “A slayer tracked me down. A few years back I was in Mexico selling a piece, and I stayed with a clan there that I knew of for a few days while I sealed the deal. Apparently they-“ her voice was horse, and she shook her head, determined to get through it. “They killed the hunters family. All of them. And he wanted to see if I had anything to do with it. I don’t know how he tracked me down, but if you’re implicated by association I am so, so sorry.” Panic took Sofie’s voice up an octave as she looked up at him. “I promise, I didn’t know. I didn’t know that they were going to do that.”

_______

As she told him what had happened, Cassius found himself shaking his head as she spoke. How dare he. This hunter, accusing her of a horrible crime. But in the same breath, how could she be careless to stay with a whole clan of other vampires that she didn’t know that much about? This is why he stuck to himself, the whole idea of more vampires made it dangerous. How a group could go and kill an entire family, that was something else entirely. That was… that was evil. Any way he looked at the situation, it made him angry. 

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, knowing there was nothing he could do about it, as much as he’d like to. “You have nothing to be sorry about. If he comes after me, so be it. I know I’m innocent.” Cassius replied, placing a hand under her chin. “It wasn’t… he’s not associated with the person who hunted down yours, is he?” He felt like he had to ask, if someone was on her tail that wanted her dead, he knew he’d have to find a way out, somewhere she could be safe. 

_______

His words were meant to calm but the panic still burned in her chest, and it stoked the fire. “I don’t want anyone after you.” Sofie’s eyes snapped up to his. She worried her lower lip between her teeth as she looked back down with a scowl and realized only then that her fangs were still out. Her eyes must have still been red as well. She hadn’t noticed they were still red. They had been since she’d let them shift colors during the confrontation, and her time in the sun hadn’t helped matters much. But she hadn’t seen her reflection in a mirror in over three hundred years- perhaps that was why. So the monsters couldn’t see how monstrous they’d become. 

She shook her head at his question. “No, I don’t think so.” Sofie thought back to the ‘conversation’, if standing on a street frozen with fear counted as that. He’d pointed out that he could have just killed her but he’d been looking for answers. He’d pointed out that her clan, no matter how civilized they pretended to be, still drank blood. “He’s too young to be the one who did it. And even if he was connected, he wouldn’t have let me go.” I wouldn’t have seen sunrise she thought to herself. Or Cassius. The thought made the frown on her face deepen, and she leaned her head back against his chest, letting the fabric of his shirt block out the world for a few moments. When she pulled back, she felt the whisper of his hand against her face and she leaned into the touch like a flower stretching to greet the sun.  “I think he’s someone different entirely.”

________

“I could try and tell you that you don’t need to worry, but we’re vampires. Unfortunately just existing is a red flag for hunters. But I can say that I know how to defend myself.” He patted his pocket where he always kept his switch blade, always a little bit prepared if the situation called for it. “He didn’t try to fight you, did he? The only injuries you have are from the sun,” he noted as he gave her another once over. He couldn’t help but wonder what the true purpose of this hunter was, usually they’re kill first and ask questions later, in his own experience. He’d only been seriously hunted once, and that was because he was young and a little too sloppy with his food. That was centuries ago, though. What Sofie was facing was fresh and raw, and Cassius wasn’t sure how to help. 

Cassius let out a sigh as she explained that the hunter was too young to be involved, feeling a little better. Surely if it were that hunter, she’d be in a lot rougher of shape than just being burned by the sun. “I’m sorry this happened to you, love.” His tone was gentle, he wasn’t really sure how to comfort her. “Whatever you want to do to distract yourself, I’m all for it.” In his experience, the best thing to do in situations such as these was a distraction. Wasn’t much to do if the hunter didn’t want her dead. Only to get over the fear, and that took time. “I wish I knew what to do,” he confessed, pressing his lips together.

_______

She watched as he patted his pocket. Maybe she should carry something… He was the second person she knew of who kept a knife on him, after Metzli. And knowing Metzli, Sofie wouldn’t have been surprised if the other vampire walked around with a veritable artillery strapped to them at all times. She supposed she’d have to start following both of their leads. Wicked’s Rest, while being full of people like them, was also full of people who wanted them gone. “He had a stake, but it was used for leverage… I wouldn’t run or attack him, and he wouldn’t use the stake.” Sofie shook her head. “Just a little sunburnt.” She shrugged. 

A shadow of a smile ghosted over her features for a moment. “You don’t have to do anything, you’ve already done enough.” Knowing that she had someone who would come if she called was a comfort Sofie hadn’t known in quite some time. She thought for a moment, her mind starting to work as it normally did. A distraction… She looked back up at him. “Tell me something. Anything. Tell me about something good.” Tell me about something that doesn’t remind me I’m the monster in someone else’s story.

______

Cassius’s brows furrowed as he thought of what he could possibly need from her. He didn’t attack her, nor did she attack him. The whole situation perplexed him, but he didn’t push any further, it was clear that Sofie wasn’t able to handle talking about it too much, not more than she already had, anyway. He took the folded switchblade out of his pocket, handing it to her. “Keep it on you. You never know when you’re going to need it.” His tone was serious, as if he wasn’t about to take ‘no’ for an answer. “I have another, so don’t worry about taking this one.” If not for herself, he hoped she would take it for his own piece of mind. 

Tell her something good, now there was something that he didn’t have an immediate answer to. He thought back to the book of poems he had been reading before coming to her apartment, remembering the poem that had stuck out to him, so he recited it

“I do not have you to fill the empty parts of me, I want to be full on my own. I want to be so complete, I could light a whole city and then I want to have you, cause the two of us combined could set it on fire.” He looked down to her, giving a soft smile. “Rupi Kaur, a poet I like.” He then explained, not wanting to take the credit for something he hadn’t written. “Poetry has always been soothing to me,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulder. “Something that helps me ground myself when I find life to be particularly difficult.”

______

The blade wasn’t very large, but it would definitely do the trick if she needed to use it. Sofie blinked, examining the knife in Cassius’s hand. Her eyes flicked up to his face a moment, and seeing that he was serious, Sofie slowly reached out and took the knife. She felt the weight of it in her hand a minute, before tucking it away. It would serve her better than the clunky kitchen knife sat on her bedside table, all but forgotten since Cassius had arrived. 

There was something soothing in the cadence of his voice as he recited the poem. She had been as tight as a bowstring since he’d gotten there, but the longer she stayed in his arms listening to the rise and fall of his voice, the more she allowed herself to let go. The safer she felt. A poem. She had asked for something good, and he had recited a poem. There was something terribly old fashioned about it, and she started to smile. It was a slow smile, like some part of her still worried the world would crash back down around her. But he’d just said the two of them together could set the city ablaze, and she wasn’t inclined to disagree with him. “I think it’s beautiful.” She wasn’t entirely sure of what else to say, so instead she rose on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for coming when I called.”

________________

Cassius pressed a hand to Sofie’s cheek and looked down at her, expression one of earnest. “I will always come when you call, this I promise.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, a gentle kiss, one that spoke of promise and care. He pulled away, hoping that he hadn’t made the wrong move, but didn’t let it show on his face. “And don’t you ever apologize for needing me. That’s what I’m here for. We help each other, lift each other up when needed.” He tilted his head, lost in thought for a brief moment, then voiced them aloud. “I suppose that’s what a relationship is.” He realized they hadn’t defined what they were to each other before that moment, but knew that someone would have to say it sooner or later. 

He knew that Sofie meant more to him than just a fling, that their connection had been deep and true from the moment they first met. And he knew he didn’t want that to leave either. He knew more than anything that she was meant for him, as he was meant for her. “I won’t ever leave you when things get tough. That I promise you.”

__________

Certain things had a miraculous simplicity to them. The stars twinkling in the night sky, or the feeling of seeing the ocean for the first time. A feeling of being so small  in the grand scheme of things, and yet so utterly whole and important enough to exist in that moment. Living for so long, it was so easy to forget that feeling, and yet Cassius leaning down to kiss her sent that feeling skittering through her. Sofie didn’t realize her eyes had closed until she opened them to see his face. Her eyes scanned over his every feature as he spoke, searching for confirmation. The more he spoke, the more she realized she didn’t need to look for answers in his eyes- it was written plainly on his face.

That was the other feeling that came from those miraculous little moments. A feeling of being so completely overwhelmed at the beauty of it. Of the universe working in just the right way to ensure the stars shone bright, to ensure the tides rose and fell. To ensure that two people born lifetimes apart would one day meet so that they could both come to that precise moment, to exist together so completely that they could light a city on fire with the light of it. Sofie’s hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt, content to keep him right there until the world burned down around them. If it did, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. She was too busy taking in the sight of him, wondering why the fates had taken so long to put Cassius Hawthorne in her path. The hands twined into his shirt latched onto his collar and she towed him back down into a kiss. It was the best way she could think of to answer him. A slow, gentle moment in which they could be as bright as the stars. “I think you’ll have a terribly hard time getting rid of me now,” Her voice was a low teasing sound, much more herself than she had been since he’d arrived. “Because I think I mean to keep you, Cassius Hawthorne.”

[the-lil-exorcist]

Scooby Doo Moment; Metzli & Lil

TIMING : Last Thursday ( April 20th), At Closing time.

LOCATION:  MuertArte

PARTIES : @muertarte @the-lil-exorcist

SUMMARY: Following a lead from Jude's Book, Lil decides to break into MuertArte to find a ghost. Although Metzli isn't please, they let Lil look around and shenanigans ensue.

CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Lil knew it was a bad idea before she tried getting into MuertArte knowing the most whispers about the place. Truly she knew that she shouldn’t try to get into the building after hours especially, as while she was known for breaking and entering places they were usually abandoned buildings and not art galleries. She knew that slipping into the back door and trying to hide in a closet was an awful idea. She shouldn’t be here, and it was reckless to try. 

However, it had been a few weeks since Jonas and her had gotten into town and she’d learned almost nothing about what might have happened to her parents and siblings. Lil had gone to all the usual spots, and asked all the usual people - well the ones that would talk to her anyway. All she had gleaned is that there were a series of jobs that they were meant to do, and while she wasn’t certain one of them seemed to be connected to the gallery. That and she had heard the rumors of possibly haunted pieces - so she figured she should look at them. Leading her to now be stuck in a closet trying to keep her breathing even and  feeling stupid. She just needed the people to leave so she could look around the back alone, she’d be out quickly enough if she didn’t feel any ghosts in there. 

__

“Rachel, make sure the back door is locked and then go home. Get check before though.” Metzli spoke to their only employee as they scribbled a few notes on their clipboard. They didn’t even look up to check if she listened, just heard her footfalls grow silent and then louder when she returned. At this point, Metzli trusted the girl to listen to them. She was young and had no experience, but she picked up on the training quickly enough that they didn’t despise hiring her. Having her around made things easier anyway. “Here’s your pay for the week.” They handed Rachel a check and waved her off, listening for the final click of the lock when she made her exit. 

Finally, the end of the day had arrived. Owning a business had its perks, gave a sense of freedom, but it came with a cost. Metzli supposed it was only fair. Honey did say everything needed to be balanced, that there was always an exchange. Being socially exhausted was just part of it. 

With a deep inhale and sigh, Metzli caught a whiff of something…different. Too strong for a space to be empty, but there was no one in sight. It was peculiar and made the hairs on Metzli’s neck rise at attention, though they gave no indication of it in case they were being watched. Instead, they went through their end of day routine and behaved as if they were leaving, and not literally sniffing around to find the source of what was piquing their sense of smell. Eventually, they landed on a door—a closet. They set to turn off the lights, opening and closing exits, even silencing their steps until they stood in front of the closet. Quietly, they planted themself to wait for whatever idiot was hiding to make their reveal. 

 Lil tried to be quiet in the closet as she started listening to the closing of the art gallery, trying to remind herself to be calm. She felt oddly light, her usual knife not on her - if she got caught she didn’t want to be armed for the police after all - and instead just had her salt bags and keys on her. She didn’t even bother keeping her phone on her meaning she didn’t know the exact time as she heard the door close. She just needed twenty minutes. Then she’d leave and go home and check the next place in Jude’s notebook.

Pausing for a moment to make sure that it was still, Lil slowly opened the door looking around as the door widened trying to see if she saw anything glowing. As her eyes moved around the room however - Lil froze thinking she saw the vague outline of someone in the dark. Whoever they were- they were not glowing with the soft outline Lil associated with a ghost - and were very much staring at her. Her first instinct was to quickly shut the door, but she was pretty sure there wouldn’t be time to do that. 

“Uh - Hi?” Lil said, cursing herself as she moved to raise her hands slowly, palms out, “I - don’t have any weapons or anything I just wanted to check if this place was haunted, honest. I’m an exorcist - and I think my sibling might be trapped here. I’m sorry for not coming in at a normal hour but I didn’t want to get thrown out for scaring guests.  I get if you’ve got to call the cops, but I wasn’t trying to steal anything.” Lil could hear herself rambling as she tried to remain calm, her heart pounding in fear, hoping that being honest would at least get her only a misdemeanor. 

And there she was, the culprit. She looked scared and timid, and then she spoke. Too much. Metzli stood there, blankly listening and hoping for the end of the explanation to come quickly. It felt eternal, too rambly for them to actually fully listen, and then finally, the woman finished. Metzli rubbed at their temple and grumbled, waving their hand from side to side to let her know she shouldn’t talk again. “No more ramble. I hate ramble.” They couldn’t be held responsible for any bites she would get if she did. 

“And I no like cops. I deal with trouble myself.” Metzli raised a finger, realizing how that may sound. “Lucky you that I believe in haunting, but have seen no ghost.” They tutted, “But I do have weapon and if you lie, I will put up fight. You will not win.” It was as light of a warning as Metzli could give in that situation, but for a break-in, they thought they were handling it pretty well.. Though, they hoped for the girl’s sake, that she was telling the truth. Not that they wanted to hear more about it.

“Where do we check? I will follow and watch.”

Lil’s hands were shaking slightly as she finally learned how to shut up, and waited for the other to speak. Then she almost froze again - not expecting what she heard. Blinking Lil nodded instead of talking again slowly putting her hands down figuring that she’d shown that she wasn’t exactly a threat at least. She didn’t open her mouth again, really not wanting to annoy the person who so far wasn’t trying to call the police. 

She should have been worried that the other started talking about not needing cops, but Lil couldn’t help the relaxation when they seemed to believe in hauntings. It was more likely in this town than anywhere, but Lil could never count on that. She also didn’t have that stupid card proving that she was an exorcist.  Lil also didn’t take the implication lightly, knowing that the other probably could hurt her if they wanted too. Although Lil was well known for her recklessness, she wasn’t an idiot. She was also in the wrong here. 

“ I won’t try anything and I’m not lying,” Lil said softly, finally walking out of the closet still not going next to the dark figure, not wanting to move too quickly and make the other defensive. Still her eyes started to focus around the room trying to see if there was anything glowing lightly, the dark making it easier for her to do. She often thought because she couldn’t hear the dead, she must have a slightly better sight for them. 

“If I could just look through the gallery, I can tell if there’s any ghost or ghost - items.” Lil tried hard not to babble again, but she still added. “I won’t exorcize any items though even to prove I am an exorcist. I don’t want to break anything and would have to do more research to not.” 

It was nice to know the woman wasn’t lying. Well, she insisted she wasn’t at least. Metzli liked to think that they were pretty good at spotting liars, and she didn’t seem like one. “Tell me name.” Overall, she seemed genuine. More so desperate, but that was neither here nor there. The real focus was getting to the bottom of whatever haunting she believed was happening in Metzli’s gallery. The last thing they needed was for a rumor to get out about something like that. 

Even worse, the concept of the actual haunted gallery being gossiped about couldn’t happen. If it did, more people like the exorcist would come around. Likely with more malevolent intentions that would worsen if they discovered the rumors were, in fact, true. Sighing and pinching the bridge of their nose, Metzli tapped their foot as they configured themself. Where to start? “I can see ghost too but am no exorcist. Seen no ghost.” They curled their hand into a fist and released it, repeating the action until they relaxed a bit more. She didn’t have to know about the cursed gallery. Everything was protected there. 

“You search and I follow.” Metzli said, adjusting their tie. “If you find anything, you may examine but no take. Pieces are expensive.”

“Lil, My name is Lil Ballard,” She said immediately, figuring that she probably shouldn’t hold that information back. Besides, if the other knew anything about medium families in the town that would be a clue that she wasn’t lying. She didn’t often thank herself for her last name - her father had ruined it in a lot of ways - but sometimes her connection to him did make it at least a little more convenient. 

Lil couldn’t see the other super well, but she could feel that the energy seemed to shift a little more than  “My siblings book said something about an object here that they were wanting to check to see if it was a Tsukuogami - a possessed object. You wouldn’t have seen a ghost.” Lil quickly explained thinking that the other might not know them. While it wasn’t highly on the list of things that could have made her family disappear - they were rarely super dangerous - it would tell Lil where on the list Jude was. Also, some were deadly when they wanted to be and shouldn’t be in a gallery unattended. She figured Jude would have put it on the list if they were worried about it being more deadly than anything else.  

Lil did pause that the other could see ghosts, but in a town like this one she never really questioned it. After all, it wasn’t her business if they could or not. Lil relaxed, nodding at the instructions and moving more now to see the gallery that she was in. Keeping her hands at her side but pulling out her flashlight that was purposely dull- after all she wanted to see the outlines of things -  Lil moved toward the edges to look at the pieces, thinking that she might have liked to see it during the day. She’d never really been around art - unless it was to examine it for spiritual activity - and some of the pieces were interesting. Still, she tried not to linger. 

Still, as she was about to pass a painting she oddly didn’t want to stop at she paused slightly, taking a look at a painting again before moving swiftly to the side of it before she thought the image could see her , making sure that the painting didn’t have her in view and hoping it hadn’t seen her. “Do you mind telling me what you know about this piece?” Lil said softly hoping the other wasn’t too annoyed.

Metzli nodded, committing the name to memory. “Hm…” They listened intently, even as  they tapped away at their phone to bring a few lights to life. Mainly a few rooms to illuminate, but still keep it mostly dim. Their face, along with Lil’s illuminated just enough, revealing them both. Though, really, Metzli was able to see Lil clearly in the dark. “Tsukuogami,” They parrotted several moments later, replaying it in their head over and over again. It wasn’t a term they had heard before, but they hoped they could get some answers as the two of them searched.

If anything, Lil was more than willing to offer information given that she did not have the advantage. That was how Metzli interpreted it at least. “Will you feel something if you are near the Tsukuogami?” Following close behind, they watched as the weak flashlight brought a faint glow to the pieces it grazed over. Metzli was a bit distracted by them, almost crashing into Lil when she came to a stop. 

They looked at the painting, tilting their head and closing their eyes to recall. “Paula Mint. Acrylic on canvas, twenty-twenty, titled Weighted Lillies, and was brought in a week ago. Inspected myself and found nothing. Why? Tsukuogami?”

Lil hadn’t expected the help, but was grateful for the other to light the room well enough for her to see, but not enough to hinder her seeing the outlines of hidden ghosts. She blinked, seeing the other for the first time, figuring that she shouldn’t ask them for their name. After all, she wasn’t exactly in the position to ask anything. 

Lil nodded slightly, “They can generally hide better than regular ghosts - but they aren’t awful to find. They are different from regular ghosts - they can use whatever object they possess. Fireplace can produce that sort of thing. ” Mostly, they seemed to be annoyed by Lil’s presence - at least she always thought. They were also not easily exorcized, so really she was more annoyed by them. 

Which was why she wasn’t trying to get into the painting’s line of sight. Especially if it was one that had something - disturbing in it. When the stranger said what was in it Lil sighed a little, thinking that Lilies were not the worst thing to be on a painting like that. “I saw eyes I shouldn’t have if it’s a picture of Lilies, be careful. I’m going to get into its line of sight and if it is one when I look at it for more than a minute it’s going to want to attack me. If it does I’ll just get out of its line of sight and we can take it off the wall.” She didn’t really have a plan after that, knowing that she couldn’t exorcize it without destroying the piece. Still, she could tell the other that after. Maybe they had a way of containing it. 

The more information given about the spirits Lil was searching for, the more the hackles on Metzli’s neck raised. How badly would it affect MuertArte if they didn’t find it that night? They didn’t want to think about it too hard. They knew they had to focus and keep their mind from straying too far if they wanted to find the damn Tsukuogami. Once they did, Metzli planned to find some way to stab it. They didn’t care if it was incorporeal sometimes. They’d get it when it tried any tricks when it took on a different form.

“What do we do if—” There was no chance to finish the sentence. A vine surged forward from the painting, prompting Metzli to react instinctively. They weren’t fast enough to stop the vine from wrapping firmly around a victim, but they did succeed in ensuring Lil wasn’t it. It was a small victory, but having a vine wrapped around their neck was better than having it be a human. They didn’t need to breathe.

“Stay…away.” Metzli managed to wheeze out to Lil, mostly because their windpipe was being crushed. Each word was strained and prolonged. All the while, they fussed with their knife, struggling to get the blade through the vine for a few moments while their neck took on all the pressure without another arm to balance it all out. Finally, they cut through, falling to the ground unceremoniously. 

Lil had expected the painting to react, but she didn’t think that it could see her where she was trying to explain to the other that she would knock it down. Still, she must have moved enough into frame that the Tsukuogami did see her and reacted. It must have not liked her, to want her dead this quickly. 

She hadn’t expected the other to move in front of her as the vine shot out of the painting. Used in some ways of being put into dangerous situations where no one was there to realistically help.  Lil’s eyes widened as she realized what happened, her hand instinctively going for a knife she hadn’t packed and cursing realizing it wasn’t there. A split second realization that she would have been fucked if it had been her didn’t escape her but while the shock happened to cross on Lil’s face she didn’t stop her motion, used in some ways to the often shocking events around ghosts. So, instead of freezing Lil, ducked out of the sight of the painting she figured the only way to help the other was to get the stupid thing on the ground as quickly. 

She saw as the other told her to stay away, cutting the vine and painfully dropping out of sight of the painting, and Lil, hoping that they wouldn’t be too pissed, reached for the side of the painting moving to tip it off the wall face first on the floor. “Fuck. Are you okay? Wait, don't answer that your neck.” 

With a bang she managed to get the painting on the floor after struggling, although she thought she could see it trying to push back up with its vines. Moving to stand on it she figured that if she broke the slate at the back of the painting she might get it to stop moving. “Uh - Sorry I know your neck. Hey if you're still awake can I break the painting?” Lil said, figuring she should at least ask but still feeling silly and hoping that her hunch was right and the other wasn’t human. 

Despite not needing any ounce of air, Metzli couldn’t utter a single word without it being a weak rasp. It almost hurt to try to get anything through their vocal chords. The sensation was strange, and they didn’t like it in the least. They just had to be thankful for the way they could feel it repair itself, as slow as it may be. There were more pressing matters to focus on anyway. Like the destruction of a painting in their care. 

It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? Make sure it didn’t hurt another person. The bad rapport alone of a patron getting attacked by their own paintings was going to be hard to make go away. Pinche Tsukuogami. Metzli nodded defeatedly, squeezing their eyes shut so they wouldn’t watch the destruction of something that was once so beautiful. They could eat the cost. It was an amatuer artist. Their artist heart, though? It was bending.

Lil couldn’t hear the other, but she tried hard to keep on top of the painting while focusing on them, vines slowly pushing back up knowing that at some point it wasn’t going to be a choice. Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated breaking the artwork - knowing that at the end of the day it was the painting or people. Still, they had pushed her out of the way when they shouldn’t have. Maybe Lil felt like she owed them the choice. Still, when she saw the nod Lil was relieved that the other agreed. 

Centering herself on the painting Lil thought about how stupid what she was about to do was, and if she didn’t break her foot she’d call that a win. Dropping one foot to the ground near the Vines, Lil quickly jumped onto the painting , her foot  now uneven as she focused all of her weight on the back of the painting along the spine. With a thud and a crunch she felt the thing give way a stutter as she imagined the ghost screamed it now becoming much flatter as it tried to get away.  

She couldn’t hear it if it did. So instead Lil moving quickly bent the painting back until she heard it snap in her hands, feeling at least a little sad she had done it. Still, the vines disappeared from view and for a moment all Lil could hear was her own heavy breathing before she moved off the painting and towards the other limping. She was pretty sure nothing was broken, but the jump and fall hurt. 

“Hey - shit that looks bad. Usually they aren’t that aggressive off of the bat, but  the spirits handled. It seems to have been in the wood in the back of the painting - so you might be able to repair the actual canvas.”  Lil didn’t know why she’d said that to the other. Maybe it was an act of comfort. “Do you want me to call an ambulance? Can I help you?” She said going to sit next to the stranger, knowing that they probably would have a great case against her in court.

It was almost painful to watch Lil destroy the ornate frame the artist had made themself. Both because it was beautiful, and because it was obvious that Lil had no idea how to properly stomp. Metzli was nervous she might sprain or break her ankle somehow. Especially with the Tsukuogami fighting back against every split. Was it hurting? Metzli had to wonder for a moment if it felt anything at all. It had to, didn’t it? To fight back, something needed a will to live, a fear of nonexistence. Not that it mattered anymore. Lil was getting rid of it, and not a moment sooner. 

Metzli scanned what was left of the art piece, eyes filling with sorrow. The artist had given a part of themself when they created it, and now it was ruined. With a sigh, Metzli stood up and lifted the broken canvas, analyzing it further. There was hope yet, it seemed. While the frame of the canvas was broken, the canvas itself was not torn. A smile almost began to take shape on their lips, knowing they could restore the piece and display it once again. For the time being though, Lil was thinking of calling something as useless as an ambulance. 

“Am fine.” They rasped firmly, shaking their head and already setting to work on the cleanup. Metzli didn’t care about anything else but getting the canvas restretched. There was no time to lose. “No ambulance. Want to fix painting.” Waving Lil to away, they picked up the canvas and lovingly carried it away. “Leave out front door please. Have work to do.”

Lil watched as the other started to move, not surprised by the motion as she probably should have been. Whoever the other was, they weren’t human. Still, she watched concerned as they started to get up and move around. Surely they were still in pain, but they seemed focused on the painting on the ground. Lil wanted to ask a bunch of questions about what they were about to do - but figured that she was lucky enough that they wanted to just leave. It was a better outcome than she should have expected. Hell, she didn’t even have to try and run out. 

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything,” Lil said, gathering herself up and putting pressure on her foot, relaxing as she realized it probably was just a little bruised. It would hurt for awhile, but to be honest she was used to it by now. “I’ll leave my phone number in case you get another one.  Sorry,” She said softly, as the other had used please she figured they probably weren’t a fae. 

She didn’t try to follow the other, or help them gather the painting. After all, Lil didn’t know how to fix things, just how to wreck them. 

[wickedsrest-rp]

Welcome to the first weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?: 

After a mining accident, the town is left with cracks oozing strange black sludge that is suspected to be related to Serpent's Flat. Check out our very first plot of the week for ways to interact!

Sly Slice employee Paige O'Brien unknowingly voiced her frustrations about the hexes a local coven keeps putting on the pizza joint to an opportunistic fury. Now anyone with magic or magical items is experiencing some very strange occurrences when they get within a block of Sly Slice.

With some of the caves around the Mines now being inhabitable, a number of flederprey have been displaced and are causing some trouble around Bigfeet's Adventureland.

It may be April, but the owners of Hollow Point Armory are no fools. With spring rolling in, their competition for the season is well-timed. For those skilled with range weapons, this competition has a $10 entry and several prizes up for grabs-- most of which are vouchers for the store or ammunition.

Starters:

In a super normal move, Teddy is looking for powdered ballyborg frog.

The old stairs are at it again and Jonas needs an ice pack or five.

If you're at UMWR and see emerald green beetles, please refrain from eating them and let Anita know.

If you're using spirit gum, Winonna has some very important advice. You probably don't wanna know her sources.

Is it ethical to pretend you lost a student's bad paper so that you don't have to read it? Cassius is asking for a friend.

Emilio doesn't know how to use Google and is also having trouble potty training his dog.

Sometimes to be productive, you need to get the tea. The actual tea with leaves. Zack could use a reccommendation and some work.

It's April Fool's Day and Alan has got dad jokes on deck.

To whoever put a "Free Honey" sign next to an eintykara hive in the State Park, Alex just wants to talk.

April Fool's Day is the perfect time to get some fun costumes or vintage clothes. At least according to Leila and she's offering some sweet discounts.

Wynne is looking for a little luck in the form of a rabbit's foot and could use some help finding one.

No one likes shipping delays and Beth is no exception. Is it really that hard to get a girl her yoga pants?

Levi knows something is lurking under those cracks and it wants to know what

Ray has heard some pretty wild rumors about the mining accident. He could use some guidence.

When there's big news happening, Arden is on it! Send in tips to help her get that front page story.

--------

When an anonymous user asks AITA on the internet, Gussie is here to dish out the truth.

MuertArte is hosting an exhibition and Metzli is welcoming everyone to visit.

Can't sleep? Abigail's got you covered. She's bringing back Creature Comforts' Witching Hour Special.

Zane would really rather not see you in the ER, so please refrain from touching the cracks in the ground.

We're pretty sure Leticia is about to win the t-shirt design contest with her purrfect idea.

It's Nora's birthday. Offerings of ham are both acceptable and encouraged.

It's Pura Vida's opening night and Vida is offering some stellar specials

Got a net? Then help Honey save the birds.

Can anyone fix a leather jacket? Matty needs help fixing up his threads.

If you want to learn about duck herding, Leah has a book for you!

Please stop leaving print outs of fake yelp reviews on Jasper's house.

Cyrus wants to know if Folklore Tourism is worth his time

Sully has a new pet "crab" and needs some help getting him set up.

Sofie wants to know where all the snow went.

Got monsters to deal with? Call Fang. Got electronics that need repair? Also call Fang. And bring money.

[kadavernagh]

[pm] It is a word for a child. Ah, right, "what do you mean?". You call me babe, and honey. In a manner befitting of associates, and nothing else.

From where I am standing, you seem to be the one hiding behind excuses. Excuses for me, I mean. Did you know I almost let worms eat my acquaintance the other day? Pink, wiggly worms. Because I could not... and I nearly allowed another acquaintance to die because I valued a dinosaur femur more than his life. Croí cloiche, my grandmother would be proud. Or she would have been, until I Those are the ways I care. Because that is what I am.

A list of what? Everything is what it is; you can still... talk about it, I guess. Is that not what humans like to do? Have feelings and express them in watery ways? Tell me. I obviously have no clue.

[user notices her heart is pounding and chalks it up to indigestion like always because that makes sense, thinks the one with an MD]

[user realizes, wait, it's not indigestion; the MD is putting in work]

[user swears a lot in irish]

Sorry. I will apologize. But you won't fight her. She'd kill you. Or, actually, she'd probably have me do it. Hag is quite offensive, and she is only middle-aged.

What if Metzli has a different problem than the one you think? And they need help with it? And you may be the best person to provide that help? I could say that's hypothetical but it's not. They said I should ask you on a d

What am I trying to do?

By the way, I'll mail you that autograph in a few months. The reaper appreciates her devotees.

[pm] What's your beef with cute, (ignoring the whole harbinger of death thingy) I think it's such a sweet word. Totally comes from a place of... warmth. Um, no I haven't? I think I'd know if I did. Wdym?

Nope I don't, and you reallyyyy don't want me to call out all the ways you care. Yes, you are. Stop hiding behind excuses. That's not any better!!!! And you know I love instruments!!! [user doesn't wanna talk about games right now, tragic] It's fine, you can kill them in different ways or you can like... do the 100 kids challenge. I don't believe you, I need their autograph.

You're not and we wouldn't. Don't make me write a list. You're wrong way more often than I initially thought. Like, all the time...almost. No, duh! I don't understand, cause that would mean you'd have to explain what exactly is this weird commitment you have that stops you from living. But whatever, I said I respect the whole stupid duty situation. You do you. Yup, I will think what I want. Thank you for letting me :) Nope, I don't think I wanna elaborate. It is what it is.

Who, your granny? I'm gonna fight that hag myself, she might be the whole problem, actually. [user reflects for a minute] It is possible... I overstepped. I won't apologize, though. I told Metzli they can come to me when they want their problem solved, I'm not approaching them right now anyway. They might need more time.

I know what you're trying to do and it's not gonna work. [it's definitely going to work]

[muertarte]

Batman = Bat = Vampire

[mortemoppetere]

[pm] I don't think most bugbears can see ghosts. I think you're [...] weird for that. And I don't have time to list everything you can do. You can walk, too. And talk. And maybe even listen. See how it gets boring?

What, you think I know your bear parents personally? If I asked you questions about my parents, you wouldn't be able to answer them, either. That doesn't mean you're stupid. [...] You said you didn't want me to pay you with money, so you take what you can get.

Sure. Your ears are magic. [...] No. They're ears. Ears are not cute. They just need to hear. I think yours don't hear very well, because I keep telling you to be less annoying and you keep being more. Don't send me pictures of ears.

Honey is bad. You have bad taste.

My answers are good. You just ask bad questions.

I don't know. Metzli says there's a month for fucking people, and that everyone has a flag, and now people are selling pins with cakes and planning events. I don't know what the fuck is going on.

[pm] You forgot I can talk to ghosts. And I have a good nose. Seems like you're not as smart as you're pretending to be.

All I'm hearing is you can't answer my exact question, which means my questions are hard, and once again you don't have the knowledge to pay me.

My ears are magic? Emilio. Do you think bear ears are cute? Do you want me to send you ear pictures? I know people go wild for them.

Honey is good. You're wrong for this.

Bad. All bad. I have more questions than answers.

For what? I don't think you're supposed to get me anything.

[stolensiren]

dancing with the devil // kitty & cass

TIMING: prior to alcher's death PARTIES: @kallmekitty & @stolensiren SUMMARY: kitty and cass meet up at the quarter arcade and are presented with a once in a lifetime dance-off opportunity. CONTENT: none

Meeting a stranger at an arcade wasn’t the weirdest way that Kitty had met with someone, and, like most things that she did, she was looking forward to it. This was what she did: she met people however she could, had fun however she could, and, when the time came, she’d head on out and move wherever the wind would carry her. Though… she liked it in White Crest. She had roommates, she had people that knew what she was, she had stability that she hadn’t really been able to find since she started moving, running. It was nice. It was almost worth setting down roots. But Kitty felt like settling would give her family the chance to want to come visit, to want to get to know her life, and she… couldn’t risk them seeing her shame at what she did to parker.

But Kitty was good at shoving that down and putting on a real nice smile as she stood in front of the arcade, hands tucked into her back pockets as she waited for Cass to arrive. She greeted a couple of folks, eventually pulled out a cigarette and took a drag while she waited, knowing better than to even attempt to smoke indoors. She got halfway through before she decided to just go ahead and snuff it out.

It was nice, Cass thought, to have something normal to do. Ever since she’d first met Metzli and learned about White Crest’s supernatural underworld, her life had been a whirlwind of activity that she’d never imagined possible before. She was fighting vampires, she was being confronted by werewolves, she was hiding from hunters, she was being told she was never human to begin with. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and the idea of going to the arcade with someone she’d been chatting with online seemed so utterly ordinary that the relief of it hit her like a cool ocean wave on a sweltering day.

She was embarrassingly excited for the whole thing, really. Kitty was a blast to talk to, and the arcade was always a fun place to hang out. She wouldn’t jinx things by thinking that nothing could possibly go wrong… but she was confident that she’d have a good time. Approaching the arcade, she caught sight of a redhead about her age standing in front of the building, snuffing out a cigarette. Making an educated guess, she grinned. “Kitty?” She greeted with a wave. “Nice to meet you in person. I’m Cass. How are your pinball skills?”

At the sound of her name, Kitty looked up to the young woman calling her name and smiled brightly. “Howdy,” she said, looking at Cass as the other girl walked over to her. Fun, this was going to be fun. If there was one thing that Kitty knew how to do, it was have fun. And arcades were so normal and nonthreatening. More normal than working at a diner with hallucinogenic honey, more normal than a werewolf and spellcaster roommate, more normal than roots that quite literally sucked the life out of folks. And, really, Kitty didn’t know a damn thing about super normal lifestyles, but she liked pretending, and she was good at it. “I suppose my pinball skills are alright. I’m a whiz at air hockey, though, and my skee ball? You ain’t seen nothing like it.” She held the door open for Cass, a real gentlewoman at heart. “After you.”

Cass had never heard anyone say howdy in real life before, and the word made her flash a grin. Kitty seemed just as cool in person as she did online — a definite score in her favor of probably not being a serial killer. Her smile only widened as Kitty held the door open for her, and she ducked into the arcade with a nod of thanks. “So what I’m hearing is, we’re totally gonna dominate this arcade. I’ve gotta warn you, I kind of spend a lot of time playing games, so if you want me to take it easy on you…” She trailed off, brows raising in challenge. She figured she knew enough about Kitty to know that a little friendly competition would excite her as much as it did Cass.

“You’re hearing correctly, darlin’,” Kitty said easily, following Cass into the arcade. The lights and sounds and smells were a total sensory overload, but Kitty was getting used to it. She liked to go out, she liked to dance, she liked to have a good time, and that meant that she liked to be around places that were a little overwhelming, sometimes. Kitty laughed at the thought of Cass taking it easy on her. “Don’t worry, I think I can keep up. I’ve got a killer set of reflexes.” Great instincts, too. Animal-like, one might even say, but she wouldn’t voice that out loud. “Though, if you wanna go easy, you’re welcome to. I ain’t too prideful. I’ll kick your ass either way, but at least then you can have an excuse,” Kitty said, grinning wickedly at the other girl.

The accent was cute. The southern twang made Cass wish that she’d grown up somewhere that left her with anything other than her generic American variety, the one that was flat and boring compared to Kitty’s softer tones. She didn’t think she’d be able to pull off an accent like Kitty’s, though, so maybe it was for the best. It was like the uniform Kitty had mentioned at her job — something Cass was probably best avoiding. “Oh, now I’m definitely going to beat you,” she laughed, eyes sparkling as they stepped into the arcade. She’d always liked places like this, where you could lose yourself in the lights and the sound. When she was alone, it made for a great cover for picking pockets, or scamming people at the games by convincing them to place bets. She doubted there’d be any of that today, though. She didn’t want there to be. She just… wanted things to be kind of normal, whatever normal meant.

But, of course, this was White Crest. And in White Crest, apparently ‘normal’ meant a hulking mass the size of a grizzly bear was leaning against the rails of the Dance Dance Revolution game, impatiently waiting its turn.

“Oh,” Cass said, stopping in her tracks and tilting her head. “That’s… Okay.”

“I mean, you can certainly try,” Kitty said, smirking back at the smaller girl. She was always down for a challenge. And if she used a few inhuman reflexes to tilt the scales in her favor, then she was just a gal using all of her assets. It wasn’t cheating that way, she thought. She scanned the crowd, looking for the skeeball tables, when she saw what Cass was looking at. Kitty blinked. “What in Hahira is that?” she murmured, though she wasn’t expecting any sort of actual answer from the other girl. “Is that a fuckin’ bear?” She had heard, years ago, of a type of shifter that was also a bear, but she didn’t think one of them would just roam around town. And it wasn’t quite a bear. There was something distinctly un-bearlike about it. It’s arms(?) were crossed, fingers(?) tapping impatiently. No one seemed too upset, like this was a normal occurrence. Maybe it wasn’t dangerous? It was fucking huge, though, and Kitty was confused. “Do we just– I mean, we’re gonna dance, dance against that thing, right?” Maybe that was stupid, but Kitty wanted to get closer, just to figure out what it was. It didn’t smell dangerous, but, then again, she didn’t know what danger smelled like other than, spilled whiskey, cigarette smoke, and the muskiness that now clung to her own skin. Maybe this was a different kind of danger. Maybe she was more than a little eager to find out.

Kitty seemed to catch sight of the creature a beat after Cass did. She seemed just as confused, which was both a relief and a concern. Cass liked not being the only one who wasn’t well-versed in White Crest weirdness… but it might have been nice to have someone who could offer an explanation as to what she was looking at here. She squinted at it, tilting her head. “I think it’s… Bear adjacent?” It was about the size of a bear, at least, but the similarities seemed to end there. The arms were all wrong, and the stance was something that was almost human-like. Turning back to Kitty, Cass raised a brow. “Are you seriously asking that?” She sounded perplexed. “Of course we’re going to dance against that thing. There’s no way we can’t. Look at it. That’s bucket list material.” Grabbing Kitty’s arm, she pulled the other girl towards the creature with a determined glint in her eye. “In fact… We’re going to challenge it. To a dance-off.”

“Maybe it’s one a’ those off-brand bears,” Kitty said. “The weird ones that look like people walking around in bear suits.” But Cass was right. It was kind of not really a bear. It looked too weird to be a bear. It was kind of cute, in a really ugly kind of way, like one of those hairless cats or a dog with a smushed in face. It even had little horns. Laughing, Kitty allowed Cass to pull her towards the game and the creature, leaned down at an awkward angle. Cass’s legs might have been shorter than Kitty’s, but she made up for it in speed, apparently. “Hold your horses. Now, I’m down to clown with a dance-off. Always. I don’t even need to be drunk; this is kinda my shit. But I think you’re forgetting something very important.” She looked over to where the other arcade patrons were putting those little faux-gold coins into the slot of the game machine. “We gotta fork over a bit of cash, tragically.”

“There are bears like that?” Cass blinked, furrowing her brows for a moment. Hesitantly, she asked, “Are there… bears like that in places other than White Crest?” It was the only way she knew how to ask if this was a supernatural thing without actually asking, even if supernatural things were hardly White Crest specific. Whatever this thing was, bear probably wasn’t close. Cass was kind of excited to get a closer look. Glancing back when Kitty spoke, she raised a brow. “What?” And then, the inevitable truth — arcades weren’t free. “Oh. Right. I totally remembered that.” Okay, so she’d been distracted by the Not-Bear-Thing. Who could blame her? A little sheepish, she changed direction towards the ATM-like machines in the front of the arcade where cash could be exchanged for tokens. Pulling out her wallet, she hummed thoughtfully. “How much do you think we ought to get to start?”

“Sure, they’re like sun bears. Maybe moon bears, too. Astronomical bears,” Kitty said, thinking the big word might make her come off as impressive. “Those kinds of bears are real… natural. This one–” She looked at the creature that clearly wasn’t a bear. “Kinda… super. Unreal, even” She figured, if Cass knew anything about the town, then she’d probably get what Kitty was trying to say. She laughed a little as Cass clearly tried to cover up her tracks, and, really, Kitty couldn’t blame her for getting excited. She was curious about the weird looking creature, too. But she’d also grown up with a dog with an axe for a face, and once a month she turned into a raging monster, and not just in the biologically female body kinda way. She watched Cass, walking over with her and leaning against the machine. “Enough to kick that fuckers ass and to at least play skeeball, but the rest is up to you, sugar. I’m down for anything.”

“Space bears,” Cass replied with a nod, deciding not to question it. Kitty sounded confident enough to be believed, and the last thing she wanted was for the other girl to think that she was lame for not knowing the ins and outs of astronomical bears. She was trying to impress here. Kitty seemed to be implying an answer to Cass’s question while treading carefully, but it felt like enough to confirm that the other had at least some knowledge about the weirdness of White Crest, and Cass offered her a smile. “Yeah, it definitely seems a little… unnatural.” The problem, of course, was that Cass didn’t know enough about the ‘unnatural’ to know if this one was dangerous. But it didn’t seem dangerous. Mostly, it seemed frustrated by the Dance Dance Revolution line, which was a plight Cass could relate to entirely. Humming as she studied the coin exchange machine, Cass shrugged and put a few bills into it. It was more than they’d probably need, but it wasn’t as if she wasn’t at the arcade often enough to make good use out of them the next time she was there. Grinning as the tokens fell into the metal slot at the bottom of the machine with a series of clangs, Cass collected them and passed a few handfuls to Kitty. “Okay,” she nodded, “now let’s go kick a bear-thing’s ass at DDR.”

Kitty was pretty sure they were space bears. Heavenly body bears. She’d show Cass a picture eventually, about how they just looked like folks walking around in poorly designed bear costumes. But that could be for later. Kitty smiled back, and she was pretty sure they’d reached that “we’re both in the know about something” point. It was just a guessing game to see how much was too much to share. Cass wasn’t another wolf; Kitty would have been able to smell that. She could just be an in-the-know human for all Kitty knew. That had been her life. But that was unimportant. What was important was shoving most of the coins that Cass had given her into her pockets. She gave a very solemn nod. “I’m all for kickin’ ass and takin’ names.” And she was pretty curious, actually, of what this creature’s name was. Just for curiosity’s sake. Curiosity’d never killed the Kitty. They walked over and stood in line, almost directly behind the thing. It was as tall as a bear, but it was no bear. “That’s a big bitch,” Kitty murmured in awe, quoting a TikTok.

There was a silent understanding between them, that quiet way of acknowledging that both halves of the equation were aware that White Crest was weirder than most people really knew. Cass was glad for it. As much as she wanted a normal outing, she got the feeling that talking too much with someone who didn’t know exactly how dangerous this town could be would get stressful fast. And besides… normal was kind of out the window, what with the whole not-a-bear situation they were dealing with. Following Kitty’s lead, Cass shoved her tokens into her pockets and followed the other girl over to the Dance Dance Revolution line, which seemed to be thinning as the strange creature’s patience waned. Snorting at the TikTok quote, Cass nodded. “Do you think they’d take that as a compliment, or an insult?” She kind of wanted to make friends with them, if only to get a better chance at challenging them to DDR.

Kitty could find a way to be comfortable in any situation, even one as strange as this one. After all, she’d been joking with her would be kidnappers as they’d shot her and she’d broken their noses. She was nothing if not willing to always go with the flow and have a good time. And she had a feeling this was going to be a good time. Cass had been a hoot and a half online, and Kitty was confident that it would be no different in person. Plus, they had whatever this big fella was. “I meant it as nothing more than an awe-inspired compliment of the highest order, I assure you. And them! If they asked, of course.” The line moved a little more, and the creature snorted. She wondered how long they’d be waiting. She craned her neck up to try and look at its face, and it looked down at her with wide, bulbous eyes that couldn’t really narrow so much as fill her with a sense that it was, indeed, perturbed. Kitty wasn’t used to looking up at things. “Uh, howdy.”

The creature, whatever they might be, didn’t seem to be dangerous. A little impatient, maybe — they clearly weren’t thrilled about the long line ahead of them — but not violent. Nothing like some of the more terrifying things Cass had seen in White Crest. So even if they were insulted by Kitty’s comment, Cass figured they’d be fine. “I’m sure they’ll think it’s fine,” she assured her new friend, flashing a grin. She stole glances at the creature periodically, freezing when it became clear that both she and Kitty had been caught staring. Blinking, Cass offered the stranger a bright smile. “Do you play this game often? Because we’re pretty sure we can beat you.” She motioned between herself and Kitty, wasting no time pulling the other girl into the shenanigan. “And we’re, like, totally willing to bet on it.”

It was nice to be reassured that the creature probably wouldn’t mind Kitty’s comment, even if it was coming from someone who was just as clueless about it as she was. They seemed to be in a bit of a stalemate, Cass and Kitty staring at the creature, the creature staring at them. The line moved, but the three of them didn’t move at all.

“My name is Bartholomew,” the creature said, its voice prim and proper, “and I’ve an appreciation and desire for the art of the dance. I must say that, thanks to the great Judi Sheppard Missett and the fine art of jazzercise, I see myself as something of an expert.” It cocked its bulbous head, looking at them both. “A bet? Perhaps a deal of sorts? Should you beat me in the sport of the dance, then I shall tell you the most rich and knowledgeable secrets that you’ve ever heard in your mortal lives.” The creature, Bartholomew, looked down at them. “However, should I win…” There was a wide smile, tongue hanging out. “I should expect the very same.”

Even though she had started a conversation with it, Cass was a little taken aback when the not-bear — Bartholomew — spoke. She blinked, looking over at Kitty and mouthing what the fuck dramatically enough to hopefully get the message across. “Bartholomew. Do you ever go by Barry? Like the Flash?” The dance thing… also unexpected. Cass didn’t know what Judi Sheppard Missett was, and she only kind of recognized the term jazzercise, but she was willing to agree with Bartholomew’s assessment that he was probably an expert on the topic. He certainly knew more than she did.

But. But. This was Dance Dance Revolution. And that was something Cass understood a lot better than jazzercise.

Looking back to Kitty, Cass made eye contact and tilted her head, inclining her head to let the other girl know that she was totally down. She wouldn’t accept the deal on both their behalfs unless she was certain Kitty was cool with it as well, but… well, she couldn’t imagine Kitty not wanting in. This was, without a doubt, the coolest bet Cass had ever been offered.

“If you must, you may call me Bart,” Bart, the… whatever it was, said rather primly, tilting its bulbous head as much as it could. “What, perchance, is a Flash? Is this Flash a dancer of sorts? Some style of which I’m unaware?” It looked curiously at these two fresh-faced mortals, young, nearly infants. If they wished to challenge it to the art of the dance, then Bart was more than prepared to undertake such an endeavor.

Kitty, for her part, was tickled pink at the idea of a dance off with Bart. She looked at Cass, and the two of them were absolutely on the same page in this situation. Whatever was about to happen, it was about to be cool as fuck. They were about to have one hell of a good time, and she couldn’t wait. Even if they lost, it’d still be fucking great. “You got yourself a deal, partner.” And those seemed to be just the words that Bart wanted to hear.

“Bart!” Cass repeated the name with a grin. “That’s Impulse’s name. He’s cool, too.” Tilting her head to the side at the question, she shook her head. “He’s a superhero, from a comic book. I bet he’d be a good dancer, though.” She considered this for a moment, nodding. Yeah. Flash would kill it on the dance floor.

Kitty seemed to be right there with her in terms of the deal, something that was unsurprising but exciting all the same. Even if they lost the challenge, it’d be a cool story. And it wasn’t like they were putting their souls up for collateral or anything; this was about the most harmless kind of fun White Crest had to offer. She grinned as Kitty accepted the challenge, nodding her head enthusiastically. “I hope you’re ready to spill all your secrets, Bart, ‘cause we came here to win!”

“I will have you know that I have no such impulses,” Bart said, head cocking to the side. There seemed to be no real connection between the Flash and what a superhero was, but Bart wasn’t the kind of creature to spend a lot of time hyperfixating on whatever a superhero was. It had other fixations. Like jazzercise for the last forty years. And now it was time to take those skills to the dance floor, which just so happened to be very small and square and brightly colored. Plenty of space for jazzercise routines.

Laughing, Kitty was delighted by how much the creature in front of them knew but also didn’t know. “Flash’s dance moves are probably the fastest on the dancefloor,” she said. The line moved again, putting them closer and closer to their goal, and Kitty was about to jump out of her skin, she was so excited. “Oh, abso-fuckin’-lutely. You ain’t never seen moves like ours.” She could only assume that Cass was just as good. They were about to beat some Bart butt.

“Okay, no sweat,” Cass grinned, holding up her hands. Bart didn’t seem offended by the comparison — if anything, he seemed uninterested. It was clear that he was here to dance and nothing else. And Cass could respect that. It was nice to have goals and to stick to them. Glancing back to Kitty, she nodded. “Fastest dancer alive,” she agreed, feigning seriousness. The line moved forward quickly, likely due to the looks Bart kept giving anyone who was in front of the three of them in line. Cass didn’t think it meant any harm, but it sure looked scary enough to intimidate people into ending their turns early. In only a few short minutes, they were standing in front of the game, watching as the last person in front of them stepped down with a nervous glance back to Bart.

Clapping her hands together, Cass stepped up to the machine, gesturing for Bart to follow. “Now,” she said, “because me and Kitty here are real nice, we’ll let you pick the song we dance battle to! What do you say, Bart? What’s it gonna be?”

“Oh, we’re real nice. Just the nicest,” Kitty agreed, bouncing on her toes as they made it to the front, putting the tokens in for herself and Cass as Bart fumbled with thick clawed fingers. It was strange to look at, Kitty thought, and she’d seen a lot of weird things over the course of her life. However, the longer they were in Bart’s presence, the less intimidating it was. The few short sentences it had spoken were nice enough. Well-spoken, thoughtful, single minded in their appreciation of the dance. Specifically jazzercise. But Bart had another storm coming. Jazzercise and the strenuous art of DDR were not the same, and Kitty could not wait to be the bearer of that news.

Bart was unaware of the redhead’s machinations as it looked carefully through the songlist, nodding over various selections before attempting to click on one, but those stubby clawed fingers were not the same at clicking on things. Finally, it tapped impatiently at “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.” This one. I want this one.”

It was fascinating, watching Bart. Cass had to remind herself not to stare as it pulled out its tokens and put them into the machine, forcing herself to look at Kitty instead. She thought they actually stood a pretty good chance here. Bart was clearly well-versed in dance… but only in a specific kind of dance. And DDR didn’t really go hand-in-hand with jazzercise. Cass just hoped that Bart wouldn’t prove to be a sore loser.

Leaning over Bart’s shoulder to eye the song list, Cass grinned. “Oh, that is an awesome song choice. I love that one!” Cass pressed the button for him, nodding to the screen as it began to count down. “All right, Bart. Let’s do this thing.”

The music began to play, and Cass bounced as she waited for the arrows to scroll across the screen. When they did, she was quick to leap into motion, humming along with the music under her breath. She forced herself not to glance over to Bart or Kitty to see how they were doing — if they really wanted to win this thing, they needed to have focus.

The song was on, and Kitty was in a groove, ready to get started. Her feet knew where the arrows were; she didn’t have to look down. When she was younger, a freshly obtained driver’s license in her back pocket, she and Parker used to drive up to Memphis to the arcades there. She’d been particularly fond of DDR, and she’d absolutely made him dance with her to “Girls just want to have fun more than once, more than he’d ever care to admit. It had been fun. It had been nice. It had been normal, and so was this, despite the fact that she was a werewolf and her and Cass’ opponent was a fucking monster of some kind. Her reflexes were impressive, and she did the occasion spin, using the bar to perform tricks. Sure, maybe she was showing off. Where was the harm in that?

Bart was not showing off. This Dance Dance Revolution was nothing that could be expected, nothing that it could have prepared for. Where were the bends and twists?! Where was the counting?! Where was Judi Sheppard Missett to tell it how well it was doing? This was not what Bart expected, and there was a sinking realization that it was going to lose the deal. Bother.

It wasn’t a particularly long round. Shorter, given how lost Cass found herself in the music. It seemed like they’d barely even started before the music began to fade, scores flashing on the screen. Cass grinned when she saw the results, glancing over to Kitty and flashing her a thumbs up. Bart, the poor jazzercise-fiend, had evidently not been adequately prepared for the chaotic world that was 80s music on 90s video games. The poor guy really never stood a chance.

“You did pretty good,” she offered, flashing Bart a smile as if it hadn’t missed half the steps. Poor guy looked more confused than anything. “You just got unlucky, what with me and Kitty being experts and all. I bet you’d school us in jazzercise, though!”

“Hell yeah!” Kitty said as the song faded and their scores were far superior to Barts. She pumped her fist in the air, grinning excitedly. There was always a rush that came from things like this. Physical exertion, joy, winning. These were the kinds of emotions that Kitty could ride the high of all night long, if she was allowed to. Good things rarely made her feel like she was on the precipice of a shift. Not anymore. This was just something that she could get to enjoy, and she was pleased with it. “Oh! Yeah, total experts. Sorry, pal. Better luck next time?”

Moving off of the platform, Bart put a lot of effort into not looking too disgruntled. It was so sure that Dance Dance Revolution was going to be a task that it could undertake. Nex time, perhaps. It would need more practice. Next time, an easier song. “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” was awfully different. “Next time, perhaps,” it said with a long-suffering sigh. “However, I believe I owe you youths with some information. Some knowledge.” It moved over to the seating area in the arcade, tongue out in thought. “Hmmm. What sort of local, current, and completely factual information might you both be interested in?”

Stepping off the platform, Cass felt elated with the win. Bart didn’t seem to be too sore a loser, which was a good thing. It would have really sucked the fun out of things if he were, and Cass really didn’t want this moment to lose its joy. Not with Kitty cheering like they’d just won the lottery and her own face aching with how wide she was smiling. “We can do it again when you’ve had more time to practice,” she promised Bart, because it was fun. And if Bart wasn’t a sore loser, he probably wouldn’t be a sore winner, either, if practice wound up making perfect later on down the road.

Of course, right now, the focus was on the prize. Cass looked at Kitty, eyebrows shooting up. “What’s the juiciest piece of info you’ve got on you, Bart?” She was pretty sure Kitty would agree that they were after quality gossip here. They didn’t throw their sweat, energy, and tokens into DDR just to get subpar knowledge.

“The juciest,” Bart rumbled, claw poking at its tongue before those bulbous eyes brightened and widened impossibly more. “Ah! The dreaded one known only as Zngnvshklt has recently partaken in the base and human pursuit of pet ownership, and it’s a cat of all things.” Bart chuckled, shaking its head. “Word on the street is that there’s a certain cat-shaped something that is going to be very upset about this new addition, especially when it gets a look at the color of Zngvshklt’s ‘pet.’” Bart clapped its hands together, looking determined. “Of course. I will study up on this Dance Dance Revolution, and we shall commence the battling once more.”

Kitty for her part, was still trying to understand half of the words coming out of Bart’s big ol’ mouth, lips trying to form the same syllables that it had with little to no luck. It wasn’t happening. She’d go cross-eyed from the effort if she didn’t stop. “That was…” she looked over to Cass to see how the other girl was processing. “Something.”

Cass leaned forward as Bart seemed to consider what he was going to offer them, anticipation thrumming through her veins. Whatever it was, it was bound to be totally awesome. Probably some kind of forbidden knowledge. Maybe there’d be a quest involved. Cass was fucking pumped.

At least… until Bart finally settled on its juiciest piece of gossip being that some guy with a name containing zero vowels had a cat. Cass looked over at Kitty, catching her eye. She didn’t want to say anything, of course, but… Bart’s gossip was a real letdown. Still, it seemed mean to hurt their new friend’s feelings, so she dug deep and used the con artist skills that had been putting food on her table for a while now, plastering a shocked expression on her face. “A cat? Oh my god.” She shook her head. “Well, we’re going to practice, too. No way we want to miss out on the chance to hear more juicy stuff like that.” She looked to Kitty, encouraging her to agree and keep the charade going. They were probably going to have to discuss what kind of gossip they’d give Bart if he did ever manage to beat them at DDR, because Cass got the feeling that it might not really enjoy their brand of juicy any more than they found interest in what it had to offer.

It wasn’t hard for Kitty to get the memo and put on that sweet southern charm she’d grown up with, that way with words that made everything sound better. “Why, I ain’t never heard something like that. I can’t believe Zing…something would do such a thing. The nerve, am I right?” Even if Bart’s gossip had… been kinda shit, it was enough to just have fun with this. She liked getting to have fun, and if that meant hanging out with Cass and something that was probably-definitely-totally a demon and dancing in an arcade, then Kitty was down. She was so down. “Hell yeah we’re gonna be practicing, too. Better get your ass in gear, Barty, because you’re gonna need it to beat us.”

Bart looked a little put out at the use of an expletive, but it turned very solemn, nodding it’s large head. “We will most certainly be doing this again. I shall vanquish you both in the art of DDR! I look forward to doing this again. It was most humbling to meet and dance with you both. I know now I have so much more to learn.”

“You are absolutely right, Kitty,” Cass agreed solemnly, nodding her head. The feigned seriousness quickly gave way to another bright grin as Bart agreed that they’d need to do it again soon. It was exciting, the concept of having a regularly scheduled demon dance party with Kitty. Cass couldn’t think of anything more thrilling, really. “You shall try, Bart. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves there.” She took a gamble and gave Bart a pat on the shoulder. “And if you want a couple of coaches… We might be willing to offer tips. In exchange for more hot gossip, of course.”

“I shall succeed, tiny one,” Bart said, looking to the smaller of the two humans. Still, the prospect of dancing tips… “Your offer is appealing, though. I shall consider taking you up on it, depending, of course, how our next duel goes. Should you both win, though, I shall inform you of how things are going with Zngvshklt’s attempt in pet ownership. It should be most fascinating and humorous.” It chuckled. “But, for now, I must go and study up on the art of dance. I bid you both a most pleasant farewell.” It lumbered off, the group of people in the arcade parting for it as it went.

Kitty turned to Cass, her face impossibly serious for a moment before she burst out laughing. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. That was– And we– Holy hell.” That was by far the weirdest thing she’d ever done, and Kitty had done a lot of weird things. She smiled at Cass, easy and warm and excited as all hell. “I’m thinkin’ the arcade was a pretty good pick, internet stranger.”

“Hey, cool it with the tiny,” Cass complained, rolling her eyes. She went back to grinning pretty quickly, of course, when Bart agreed to consider her offer. It was really all she could ask for. And, honestly? She was a little invested in Zngvshklt’s cat now, too. “I know I speak for both of us when I say I can’t wait to hear more,” she said sincerely. Offering Bart a wave, she watched it leave with a fascinated smile before turning back to Kitty.

It was impossible not to laugh along with the other girl, given everything that had just happened. “I know,” she squealed, shaking her head. White Crest was its own special brand of weird, but… it was rarely this entertaining. And it was nice, having a fun kind of weird instead of the usual doom and gloom. “I gotta say, I was not expecting that when I made this recommendation. But honestly? It’s the best possible outcome here.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to expect this kinda thing,” Kitty teased, but she was just as excited as the other girl. It had been nice, so very nice, to encounter something that was monstrous and not have to fight or run or worry about turning into a monster herself. It had just been a bunch of good old fashioned dancing fun, and Kitty was here for it. It was the kinda thing a gal could get used to, dancing and hanging out with good company. “I hope you’re not gettin’ too comfortable, though. It can’t be all fun and games.” Kitty’s tone turned somber, and she grew serious as she looked at Cass. “After all, I am about to wipe the floor with your ass in skeeball,” she said, a smirk drawing itself onto her lips.

“Okay, good point.” There was no way anyone expected this sort of thing when they went to the arcade. If they claimed anything different, they were lying. No matter how weird White Crest got, it could still surprise you. It was just… really nice to be reminded that not all of those surprises were bad. Not all the people were bad, either. Cass flashed Kitty a bright grin, rubbing her hands together. “You’re about to try,” she corrected. “But when I win… I really hope you have a better prize lined up than a story about some guy’s pet cat.”

“Ain’t no try, sweetheart,” Kitty said confidently. “I’m a skeeball queen. I will say, though, all my stories are better than ones about Zingy’s cat, and I’m excellent at pickin’ out prizes.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she walked them over towards the skeeball section. “Since you covered the coins and I’m buying supper, hmmm. Loser covers desert? There’s that froyo place downtown.” And maybe Kitty was just trying to spend more time with Cass, not that she’d admit it. Sue a gal for having fun and not wanting it to end. Was that a crime? She didn’t think so. It was nice to be able to relax and mean it for a change, and Kitty kind of liked it.

“We’ll see about that,” Cass promised, a spring in her step as she followed Kitty towards the skeeball section. The interaction with Bart had her absolutely buzzing, and the night was only just beginning. She was excited to see where it would go, more excited to be spending it with Kitty. “Oh, you are on. I hope you’re ready, because I like tons of toppings on my froyo.”

[magmahearts]

TIMING: current PARTIES: @muertarte & @magmahearts SUMMARY: cass holds metzli to their deal. it might not be the worst thing in the world. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of past child abuse

She shouldn’t be doing this. On some level, Cass knew that. Sure, fae bound people to their words all the time — Cass even did it herself, when she had to — but this kind of promise was particularly dangerous. Kuma’s fate was still fresh in her mind, still something she was trying to figure out how to justify. Was this a thing heroes did? She couldn’t imagine Captain America doing anything like this. But… it wasn’t like she had a ton of options, did she? People didn’t exactly stick around for Cass. Kuma was proof that even when they were bound to, they might decide she wasn’t worth it. And she was so sick and tired of not being worth it. She was done with it. 

So… so she’d bound someone else. So what? It wasn’t like she was going to hurt them, or make them do anything bad. She wouldn’t do anything like that. She wasn’t that kind of a person. 

But she could use lunch. And she was pretty broke. And asking Metzli to bring her a sandwich was, all things considered, the tamest use of a bind. There was definitely no way anyone could get hurt from this. Right? 

Cass glanced up at the approaching footsteps, flashing a bright grin. “What kind did you get? Ham?”

Frustration fueled Metzli’s gait as they approached the girl sitting, proud grin plastered over her face. They had half a mind to rip it off of her and shove it down her throat, but that, Honey had notified them, was out of the question. Fae binds weren’t something Metzli was familiar with, and they were kicking themself for not listening more intently to Honey’s ramblings about them. Besides a fae themself, she knew the most about them, it seemed.

If they had just listened, they wouldn’t have made what they thought was a petulant promise a child needed to feel better. And why were they trying to do that anyway? She didn’t matter to them, and nothing in the world really had any type of meaning. Not one Metzli could find at least. They supposed they saw a bit of themself in the pixels of her messages, a quiet cry for help that no one bothered to listen to when everyone seemed to run their damn mouths all the time. It wouldn’t happen again though. They’d be sure of it once they made her let them go. 

“You said you wanted the ham. I got ham.” Metzli hissed with a monotone voice. They gripped their umbrella tightly and closed the distance between the two, throwing the sandwich bag at Cass. “There you go. Now release me, girl.” Their neutral face flashed a hint of irritation, and they snapped their fingers to speed her up. 

It was clear that Metzli wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but Cass was sure they’d warm up to it as time went on. Sure, she might not be the kind of person anyone ever stuck around for on purpose, but she could still bring something to the table. She’d gotten a Netflix login from the last person who’d thanked her, and while she didn’t exactly have a computer or smart TV in her cave, she could totally log it in on Metzli’s TV if they wanted her to. It wasn’t like she was offering nothing here! 

So, Metzli needed some time to warm up. So what? They’d get there eventually. Considering the promise they’d made, they kind of had to. It hadn’t worked out with Kuma, but she’d be more careful this time. She’d make sure to be less demanding, less clingy, less… her. If she put on a good enough act, if she pretended to be someone worth being, Metzli would fall for it. Cass might not be able to lie, but she could twist the truth into what she needed it to be. She could twist herself into what she needed to be. She could do that.

Her smile faltered a little at Metzli’s tone, but she recovered quickly, catching the sandwich and tearing it open a little too quickly. It’d been a while since she’d gotten a meal that wasn’t found in a dumpster or scavenged from the woods. Which was fine, those things were fine, but she was a little hungry. She scarfed down the sandwich quickly, barely taking time to chew, and was finished by the time Metzli finished speaking again. Furrowing her brow, she looked up at them. “But that wasn’t the promise. I never said I’d release you for the sandwich.”

Eerily, Metzli tilted their head curiously at Cass. She ate as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in months, further shaping an image of a version of Metzli that was long in the past. Her need for their promise was becoming abundantly clear, but the vampire could be no parent and they had no desire to be. They had enough trouble being a friend, and it was only a matter of time until Cass saw just how incapable they truly were. 

Metzli sighed, growing uncomfortable with the heat surrounding them and their umbrella. A fiery demise wasn’t exactly what they had in mind for that day, but it wasn’t out of the question. The more they thought about it, the more they liked the idea, and they almost smiled as they thought of the release. “Hmph…” Metzli absentmindedly chuckled, blinking to themself so they could refocus on the nuisance in front of them.

“Okay. Fine. Pues, is my job right now done?” They paused, crouching to meet Cass’s eyeline. “Or are you going to work me like dog?” Metzli tutted, slightly proud at how good their English was getting. There was still a mistake, but it was better nonetheless. 

If Cass was aware of Metzli’s eyes on her as she ate, she made no mention of it. She’d spent so much of her life being ignored that she rarely worried about being noticed now. No one had ever said anything about her skinny frame or the way you could see her ribs so clearly outlined beneath her skin before, so why would they start now? If it hadn’t caused anyone to worry when she was ten, it certainly wouldn’t be cause for concern now that she was twenty. She studied the sandwich wrapper for a moment, greedily picking out the crumbs and popping them into her mouth until the paper was all that was left. It was tucked away into her pocket — later, she’d find a garbage can to throw it away in. 

Her expression shifted a little when Metzli spoke again, becoming almost… offended at the implication that she’d force them to work until they dropped. Some nymphs might, sure, but not Cass. Metzli was lucky, really, that they were learning their lesson about promises from her and not from someone crueler. 

“I’m not trying to work you,” she said, a little petulant. “I just thought maybe we could hang out. I’ve got — My place isn’t far from here. I could show you where I live, so you can drop by sometimes. Or we could go to your place? I can log my Netflix in on your TV! Have you seen Legends of Tomorrow? It’s kind of corny, but pretty good. I bet you’d like it!” Never mind that she had little idea of what Metzli might like. The oread was doing little more than grasping at straws, desperate for companionship but unsure how to earn it, even with the promise in place.

“Hang…out?” The phrase still didn’t make any sense to Metzli. No hanging ever occurred when someone asked them to do so. Other activities ensued, but never a hanging. “Hmm…” They mulled over the offer, wondering if there would still be no swaying bodies. If Cass simply wanted to spend time with them, they supposed that was fine too, but there wasn’t much to them. “Is this to…for real hang a person? Or do you mean you want to spend time with someone?” They asked, surmising it was the latter, but still hoping for something a little more macabre. Though, they didn’t really have a say thanks to the promise. 

“I ‘am not’…very good at…hanging out.” Metzli stated dryly, making air quotes for emphasis with their only hand as they’d seen others do. They did it wrong, using them on the wrong part of the statement, but they were still learning, and Honey mentioned that fae liked balance. Metzli was going to test that theory, and hoped that if they had to deal with a petulant girl, she could at least teach them a thing or two about social norms. 

Metzli, Cass was learning, was a very literal person. In a way, it was almost familiar. Plenty of the fae she’d known back home had been similarly confused by metaphorical speech, and Cass herself might fall victim to it from time to time in spite of her relatively successful attempts to ingrain herself into human culture. She thought maybe language had something to do with it. Metzli spoke with an accent, used words that weren’t English from time to time in a way that reminded Cass of some of the much older members of her former aos sí, the ones who’d refused to adhere to the new language when it changed on the island and only began to adopt English when it became abundantly clear that it was going to stay. It did mean that Cass knew how to navigate such a barrier, though. The aos sí had never been good for much, but at least they’d given her the necessary tools to do that.

“No actual hanging, no,” she confirmed, shaking her head. “Just spending time. You don’t have to be good at it or anything.” She paused for a moment, considering her options before adding, “I just don’t really like to be alone sometimes.” Forthcoming in a way she usually wasn’t, but if she wanted to make Metzli her friend — and given the fact that they were, like, the only one she’d managed to bind into a meaningful promise so far, she did — there was going to need to be some kind of give and take. “I can show you my comic books, if you want. You’d probably like Batman.” All dark and brooding. It totally fit Metzli’s vibe. 

Cass didn’t like being alone. That awful truth made something ache inside them somehow and Metzli’s eyes widened minutely, hardly changing from their neutral expression. But, as quickly as that sensation surfaced, it was gone, and all the vampire was left with was confusion. Cass’s honesty, while admirable, shouldn’t have mattered to Metzli, yet it began to. 

Loneliness was a good thing. It wasn’t meant to ignite pain. Having nothing and being nothing, Metzli learned, was happiness. In a world where nothing held meaning, it only made sense to live that way. Be just as the world ran. For Cass though, that didn’t come so easily, further baffling them. But why? Were their beliefs wrong? Was she a version of what they had been when they were human? Is that why the embers from their ignited heart burned instead of warming them like it had around Honey’s affections? 

Blinking the bewilderment and flurry of thoughts away, Metzli nodded once. “Fine.” They finally agreed, dryly. “Show me your books on Manbat.”

It wasn’t like being alone was a new thing. Cass had been alone all her life. From the rejection of her aos sí, where she’d found herself neglected at best. (And at worst? It was best not to think about.) After they expelled her entirely, life had become a series of ‘survival of the fittest’ situations in which Cass managed to make it out the other side through luck alone. Companionship had been nearly impossible to pin down, and even harder to keep. Being alone was familiar.

She hated it anyway.

It was a stupid thing to hate, she knew. You had to learn to enjoy your own company sooner or later, but Cass hated her own company. There were few people in the world she wanted to be around less than herself. It made it easy to understand why no one ever stuck around for long, even if it didn’t make it any easier when they left. But things were different with Metzli; Metzli couldn’t leave. And they’d be better about it than Kuma had, wouldn’t they? They weren’t human, so they knew how things like this worked. They knew the potential consequences. Maybe Cass wasn’t the kind of person anyone would ever want to hang out with without something forcing their hand, but surely her company was better than the consequences of a broken promise bind, right?

She grinned when Metzli agreed to look at her comics, bouncing on her heels. “Batman,” she corrected, already turning to lead the vampire back towards her cave. “Manbat’s a totally different character. He’s ugly.”

With an annoyed roll of their eyes, Metzli gripped their umbrella tighter and followed Cass. She obviously needed someone, especially if she was willing to spend her time with someone as inhuman as Metzli. Sure, they weren’t human, but they didn’t exactly behave like them either. That humanity was stripped away so long ago that they couldn’t recall who they were to begin with. If they weren’t killing or exacting Eloy’s will, what good were they? Of what use were they to anyone? Metzli had faith, albeit very little, that they could be more than just the shell Eloy filled with his ideals and needs. 

“Girl,” They began, trying to get Cass’s attention. “My friend told me you are fae. There are many kind. Which are you?” Metzli usually preferred silence when it came to walks, but they needed to know more about their new companion. She could prove to be more of a danger than she let on. “And how old you are? No parent?”

She could feel Metzli moving behind her. Their footfalls on the earth, the way their toes nudged the stones. They walked lightly; Cass always liked people like that. The terrain didn’t mind if you stomped on it — rocks were sturdy things, after all — but it always seemed a little impolite not to at least walk with care. Cass’s own footfalls were light, though not as light as one might assume by looking at her. She was heavier than she looked, made of stone and magma instead of skin and bones. Her glamour could change the way she looked, but not what was underneath it. 

Glancing back as Metzli spoke, she hummed. The older nymphs in the aos sí would have cringed at the question coming from a non-fae, would have warned her never to reveal her true nature to anyone who wouldn’t fully understand it. But those nymphs hadn’t understood her, so what did they know? She didn’t have to continue following the advice of people who’d abandoned her. “I’m a nymph,” she replied, jumping up to balance on a stone for a moment before dropping back to the ground. “An oread. Back where I come from, I lived in a volcano. But there are no volcanoes here, so…” She shrugged. The mineral abnormality in Wicked’s Rest wasn’t exactly volcanic, but there was something familiar about it all the same. It was enough to satiate. 

“And I’m…” She paused a moment, wrinkling her brow. No one had ever asked her how old she was before. She didn’t know her birthday — none of the nymphs in the aos sí had ever cared enough to remember it, much less share it with her — and she’d certainly never had anyone celebrate her growing older. It would be a guess, really; she couldn’t remember the first few years of life, after all, and it was hard to pick out how old she’d been when that first fuzzy memory had formed. “Less than thirty, I think.” She was pretty sure she looked like the college students in town, and all of them were younger than thirty. The mention of a parent sent a brief look across her face, sad and uncertain and gone in a heartbeat. “No, no parents. I never really met them.” They didn’t want me, she thought, but it seemed a little pathetic to say it aloud. And dangerous, too. If Metzli knew Cass’s own parents hadn’t wanted her, maybe they’d decide the consequences of a broken promise beat hanging out with the nymph after all. “What about you? How old are you? Do you have family? You mentioned a friend, do you have a lot of those?” The questions came in quick succession. Cass found that she’d much rather talk about Metzli than herself.

An oread? Ore and…volcano…? Metzli supposed it made sense, but they didn’t really know much about volcanoes to navigate what questions to ask. They made a mental note to ask Honey to go on the Google with them and learn more. For the time being, Cass was shifting the conversation in the exact direction they were trying to avoid, using their own tactic against them. It was hard enough to talk, but now they were being inquired about a subject had little knowledge on. They hardly knew themself aside from hard facts. At least that was what she was asking for. For now. 

“I have one-hundred and sixty years. I think. Found my certificate after I died but no happy birthday.” They looked down at her, continuing to walk once she moved on from her rock. The more they watched, the more Metzli couldn’t believe she wasn’t actually a child. Below thirty seemed very correct, but it looked like neither one of them got to know her true age, and that irked the vampire. They saw more and more of themself in her and they began to recall pieces of themself that Eloy attempted to dispose of. It was both a relief and a burden.

“No family. Murdered by vampires. I turned, they did not.” Metzli arched a brow at Cass and they sucked their teeth in disapproval at her final question. It seemed so silly. “Do I look like I have many friend?” Most told them they were too cold and too weird to make any, and honestly, they thought by it was better that way. “Only one friend for me. She will not leave me alone when we meet first time, but I like her now.” They smiled absentmindedly, and they paused their walk to feel at their face until it went back to neutral. That hadn’t happened before. Smiling about someone? Honey wasn’t even there. Not wanting to dwell, Metzli moved on, looking back at Cass. “Do fae not stay in community? My friend said this too. She likes you all.”

For a vampire, Metzli didn’t seem to know much about the world. Most vampires — especially old vampires — knew better than to make promises to strangers. Cass was lucky Metzli had never gotten that lesson. If they had, there was no way they’d be hanging out with her now. And she was finding them pretty cool to hang out with. She’d met people far older than a hundred and sixty, of course; oreads tended to be long-lived, and a lot of the older fae back home were nearly a thousand. But none of them were quite like Metzli, and none of them had ever cared much for Cass. The older fae liked her even less than the younger ones did. She’d never quite understood why.

“I never celebrated mine, either,” she replied with another shrug, figuring that was probably what Metzli meant about a happy birthday. She wasn’t sure if other fae celebrated theirs or not. Even when she was living in the aos sí, she wasn’t invited to attend many celebrations. For all she knew, the others had weekly parties and decided not to tell her. It was a little depressing to admit that that wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

She hummed sympathetically at Metzli’s story, nodding her head. “That sucks,” she offered. “I’m sorry that happened.” To never have a family was bad enough, but she thought it might be worse to have one and lose them. Maybe. It was probably one of those comparisons that was difficult to really make, since no one could properly experience both. “I don’t know. I think you’re fun to be around. And I think anybody could have a lot of friends, depending on the kind of people they meet. There’s people out there for everybody, right?” She desperately needed it to be true, because it would mean there were people out there for her, too. People who might not have to be promise-bound just to hang out with her. There were certainly people out there for Metzli, given the fond expression that came across their face as they spoke of their friend. It was clear that, whoever their friend was, they cared about her. Cass wondered what it felt like, to be cared about. “Some do,” she replied, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone. “I don’t. I used to, but…” She trailed off, shrugging. “They didn’t want me, so… Forget them, right?”

“Hmm…” Nodding simply, Metzli looked away from Cass and tilted their umbrella forward so as to obscure their view of the mirror in front of them. They needed to divert the conversation to something else, or just put an end to it. Though they weren’t sure that was likely. Cass appeared to be the type to not let the beautiful absence of sound grace her ears. Metzli was kicking themself more and more for falling into her pathetic bind. 

Sure, they were supernatural, but Eloy didn’t really take the time to teach anything other than how to fight and what happens if one doesn’t follow orders. Nothing else mattered outside their clan and the undead, especially other species. But, Metzli was discovering they had much to learn, and it was crucial that they did. They had no idea what else could be out there, right in Wicked’s Rest. It was by sheer luck alone that Cass wasn’t as dangerous as she could be. She just needed someone to pretend to care. Taking a deep breath, Metzli sighed and attempted to shake their thoughts away so they could focus on what Cass was saying next. They blinked, just barely catching her voice but not quite understanding. 

“Sucks…? Like, chupar? I—oh. Oh, that is not what you mean.” Metzli stopped again, placing the umbrella down next to them and pulling out a small pocketbook and pen, already feeling the itch the sun’s rays caused. “I should remember this.” They knelt on the ground and propped the book on their knee to scribble a note, careful to balance since they only had one hand to use. Without even trying, Cass was already proving to be helpful. Metzli was beginning to think being forced to spend time with her wouldn’t be so bad, and could actually prove to be beneficial for both of them. They could learn the language better and she could have company. A balanced exchange. “Do is say ‘appreciate’ instead if I am happy with information you give?”

Cass glanced back as Metzli’s footfalls paused behind her, a little surprised to see that they’d lowered their umbrella. The sun was bad for vampires, wasn’t it? She wasn’t exactly an expert on other species — the aos sí hadn’t really taught her much, and the group she’d run with briefly after being cast out hadn’t been much more forthcoming — but she’d picked up on a few things here and there. Some were obvious and easy to find out, like werewolves and the full moon. Others were a little more difficult to unpack, like sirens and mirrors. But vampires and the sun? That was, like, classic storytelling, and there was usually some truth in the classics. Plus, Metzli wouldn’t have brought an umbrella if they didn’t need it. They didn’t strike Cass as the type to want to make a fashion statement.

“You don’t have to write things down,” she said. “I can just remind you, you know. Or, like, I can write it for you.” If she made herself useful enough, maybe Metzli would want to stay even without the promise. It seemed like a pipe dream, like some impossible thing, but she could try, couldn’t she? And if it failed, it wouldn’t matter because the promise would still be there. It definitely made a pretty good safety net. 

Luckily, there were plenty of ways to be useful. Not in the ways that group after the aos sí had wanted her to be, not in any of the ways that made her stomach turn, but in easier ways. Metzli didn’t know much about the supernatural world. Cass knew enough to get by. She could make something of that. She could make it matter. “Sure, you could say ‘appreciated.’ I don’t think anybody can bind you with that. Definitely don’t say ‘I owe you one,’ though. Or ‘thank you,’ but you probably knew that one. The safest thing is to just not have manners, though.” They were getting closer to the cave now, the faint scent of sulfur rising up from the nearby presence of the mineral anomaly. The entrance to the cave was pretty well hidden; most people couldn’t find it unless they knew it was there, though some people had stumbled onto it accidentally. Cass could feel the low thrum of the rocks like a second heartbeat welcoming her home. “Also, if you give me something, I can take it. So, like, ‘I give you my word,’ or ‘take my word for it’ or anything like that. And if somebody asks if they can have your name and you say it, they can take that, too.” Now that she had Metzli bound, she didn’t really need them to be in the dark anymore. It would kind of suck if another fae bound them to something, after all; then they’d have less time to hang out with Cass.

“I like to write the stuff down. I read later and practice. English is stupid and I do not understand what is not plain speak. Does not…” Metzli tutted to themself, attempting to find the right words. “Does not make sense.” They remained knelt on the ground, looking basically at eye level with Cass given both of their heights. 

Information was coming so freely then, and it was easy to get swept up in it. Habits died hard, and one of the many Eloy had gifted Metzli was listening and to not move when spoken to. It wasn’t something they inherently noticed. They were a good listener, after all. Nothing else mattered but the information they were supposed to be digesting. That was why when their skin began to burn instead of only stinging, they just chose to ignore it. They only barely flinched when Eloy ripped away their arm. A little sun was nothing in comparison. It was barely a sizzle, marked by the sound of Metzli’s skin actually sizzling, but it was hardly enough pain for them to really care. Besides, they knew they could handle at least thirty minutes before damage really began. 

“Okay,” They nodded, finally speaking when it appeared that Cass was done. “I like manners so I will keep those.” Metzli said with a look of distaste on their visage. The smell of sulfur began to irritate their nose, strong enough to force an annoyed groan past their lips. They followed the trail of the scent, toward what seemed to be a large opening. Eyes narrowed slightly, attempting to get a better image. “Girl.” They called out, “Is this home?” Metzli stood up finally, umbrella still at their side, completely forgotten and overshadowed by the smell. 

“English is kind of dumb,” Cass agreed with a shrug. It was just about the only thing the older fae back home had said that she’d ever really agreed with. Most of their views were horribly antiquated, but English? English fucking sucked sometimes. Cass had mostly picked it up from the younger fae, perfecting Hawaiian first. It had certainly been the easier of the two. English had so many stupid arbitrary rules to it. “But you don’t have to write it down, like, right this second or anything. I can tell you again when we get out of the sun.” 

As she said it, the oread moved forward slowly, closing the distance between herself and Metzli to take the umbrella and hold it over the vampire’s head. It wasn’t something she would have been able to do if they weren’t kneeling — even as it was, she had to stand on her toes and the umbrella still brushed against the top of their hair — but it was doable in this position. It was definitely preferable to listening to the sizzling of the vampire’s skin. That was something Cass had never quite gotten used to. While other nymphs didn’t mind violence towards anyone who wasn’t fae — and sometimes even promoted it — it always made Cass feel… itchy. Strange, bad, wrong. She didn’t want Metzli to suffer in any way, especially not when preventing it was simple. She gave Metzli a few moments to finish what they were writing before letting the umbrella drop again, trusting that they’d pick it back up now that their hand was no longer otherwise occupied.

Cass simply nodded as Metzli replied that they’d keep their manners. Maybe not the best decision in a town like Wicked’s Rest, but at least she’d given them the tools they’d need to try to avoid other binds. She could probably offer them advice on how to get out of binds, but… She wouldn’t risk it unless necessary. Not when the only reason Metzli wanted to hang out with them in the first place was because of the promise tying them to the ‘duty.’ At the cave’s entrance now, Cass headed inside, stopping when she realized Metzli’s footfalls hadn’t picked up again behind her. Turning back, she nodded. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “You can’t see it really well from the outside, but I’ve got all my stuff in there.” She motioned to the entrance of the cave, largely obscured by its surroundings but possible to make out much easier with the nymph pointing to it. “We’ll be out of the sun inside, come on!”

Metzli stared at Cass intensely as she approached them, surprised she had cared enough to mend their cover for them. She was doing them a kindness, but the reason as to why was lost on them. There had to be a stipulation. “Hmm…” Metzli nodded, pocketing their book and pen, and taking the umbrella back. At that distance, they could see just how sad and tired Cass looked. She was hungry, desperately so. Though, food wouldn’t mend the incessant pain that caused her body to curl with uncertainty, as if she was protesting every one-two punch that life threw her way. 

Looking away, the vampire watched from their peripherals as Cass made her way to the cave. The opening wasn’t noticeable at first, but when she disappeared behind a dense thicket, Metzli was somehow able to make it out clearly. “Girl,” Their brows creased together as they walked up to the entrance, not yet crossing the boundary. “I will need invite inside. Vampire do not enter without invite.” Closing their umbrella, Metzli looked inside the supposed home. It was hardly one, to them, and their brows furrowed even more. The mirror was impossible to ignore. 

Metzli didn’t say much. Cass wondered if it was bitterness, anger at the fact that she’d bound them to be here. She wasn’t as naive as some might assume — she knew that Metzli wasn’t entirely happy with the situation. She knew that they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t have to be, knew that they never would have looked at Cass twice if Cass hadn’t forced them to do so. No one ever did. But… She could still have hope. Hope that, as time went on, Metzli might warm to the idea of friendship. That even if they would never come to like her in the way she so desperately needed to be liked, they might get to a point where they didn’t dislike her either. That would be better than what she had now, at least. Having someone was better than being alone, even if the someone you had wasn’t there by choice. 

“Oh!” She turned back to the cave, nodding her head. This did count as a private dwelling, didn’t it? And she had read about that, with vampires. It was a whole thing. She turned her body fully to face Metzli, flashing a quick grin. “Come in,” she said, hoping it was enough to count. She could make it clunkier — do the whole ‘I invite you to enter my dwelling’ thing — but it would feel a lot less natural. And Cass liked natural. “I usually hang out further back. Sometimes people find the entrance, the front part, but they don’t usually wander back too far.” And when they did, Cass tended to take some methods to scare them away. She liked people, liked company, but some things were hard to shake. She was still a nymph, even if she wasn’t a particularly good one, and that meant feeling at least a little protective over her domain. “I can show you the rest of it later, but we should probably just hang out up here for right now. People get lost, sometimes.” 

Finally given the formal invitation, Metzli stepped into the cave, accepting the shadows gratefully. Darkness was their mother, or so Honey said. She was much too poetic at times, but her statement was correct. It was why Eloy named the clan after the shadows. That was were comfort lay, where they felt most free. The silence ever a blanket of safety. No such grace was bestowed in Cass’s home though. She needed to fill it as badly as she needed to fill her heart, much to Metzli’s dismay. 

“Then it is time to show me the Batted Man, yes?” They spoke as they peered at the infinite darkness behind Cass. They could see it almost clearly, but the light behind them obscured their night vision. As much as Metzli wanted to see what was back there, they knew they had to do as Cass said. To their surprise, it wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be. Sure, they hated conversation and wished to be back home so they could stare at their wall, but her company was tame in comparison to Anita and Honey. “Where are the books of comics?”

This was a strange feeling. Cass wasn’t sure she’d ever intentionally had anyone over before, didn’t think she’d ever invited someone in vampire or no. People had visited the cave, sure, but the typical way things went was that someone found the cave and then found Cass after. She was secondary, even with something as simple as this. And that wasn’t the case this time. Metzli was here, in her home. She almost understood now why Kuma used to say she needed to tidy up any time someone was going to come by. It was like showing someone a piece of you, inviting them into the place where you lived. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. 

“Batman,” she corrected absently, though her tone was kind. Metzli might not understand pop culture yet, but they had a great guide. There were a lot of things Cass still didn’t quite get, especially in the human world, but superhero media made sense to her. There were heroes, in bright and colorful outfits. They tossed out clever one-liners and they saved the day, and sometimes people were afraid of them but they were still good. And there were villains, dark and scary but easy to identify. They tried to hurt people, but they failed in the end. The heroes won, every time. There was some comfort in that. “I’ll go grab them,” she said, because the comics she’d stolen from Kuma’s empty house were stashed away with other things she’d taken from the same location, and there were questions she didn’t want to answer. “You wait here! I’ll be right back.” Giving Metzli no time to argue, the nymph took off further into the cave, moving deftly through the darkness. She didn’t really need to see; in her cave, she could find her way around by feel alone.

“Hmph…” Was the only sound Metzli made in response. Cass was soon swallowed by the darkness, leaving the vampire to stand there and wait. Now that was the best part of this ‘hanging out’ so far. Without all the noise, Metzli was finally able to see the appeal of the cave. It was remote enough to have a veil of safety, but close enough to town that she could venture in whenever she needed to seek out company. The latter made Metzli recoil and grimace, and they opted to admiring the texture and patterns of the cave walls to pass some time. It only took a matter of seconds for their attention to dart back to their mind. 

They figured it likely wouldn’t be long before Cass returned but they retrieved their pocket sketchbook and sat down on the cold stone. Metzli dragged their pencil over paper, combining lines and shapes until a face began to form. The button nose, apple cheeks, and almond shaped eyes were the first to render. Then came the hair and the ears, ending with the eyebrows and a finite line placed with a practiced hand at the base of the neck. From memory, Metzli sketched Cass near-perfectly. A few details were a little askew since they had just met her, but it was easy to recognize who it was. They almost smiled then, happy with the opportunity to create, but they kept their expression neutral when Cass returned. Without saying a word, they ripped out the page and held it out for her to take. “For you. Do not overreact. Please.”

Bouncing a little, Cass wound her way through the cave. The tunnels were like something of a maze; it was no wonder that there were a few rotting bodies of hikers and spelunkers who’d gotten lost and never found their way back out again. Cass skipped past the old bones of one such unfortunate soul before darting off into another hallway, until she’d finally made it to the opening where she stored her comics. She knelt down beside the box, flipping through the covers. Metzli wouldn’t like that one. The art in that one sucked. That one was okay, but you needed to read, like, six more to really understand it. Finally, she found a handful she thought would suffice and gathered them into her arms, ducking out of the chamber and back into the twisting passageways of the cave.

She made her way back to Metzli in record time, finding them right where she’d left them with a look of concentration on their face. She watched from the shadows for a moment, not yet making her presence known. There was half a second where she thought the vampire might smile, but the notion seemed to vanish as quickly as it appeared. It was then that Cass finally reentered the main opening of the cave, comics in hand. She blinked as Metzli ripped a page from their book, stepping forward curiously. They told her not to overreact and, ever eager to please, to prove that she could be worth caring about if only given the chance, the nymph worked to school her features. It was hard. Her chest felt so warm that she was a little worried her glamour might fail beneath the magma, and she couldn't keep her hand from trembling as she reached out to take the paper. A drawing. Of her. Cass thought she might burst. “I love it,” she said quietly. It was the closest she’d come to accidentally thanking someone in years. “You’re a really good artist.” 

Emotion likes waves of the ocean reigned in, casting over Cass’s face. Flowing in powerfully, and receding just as quickly. Much to Metzli’s relief, there was no overwhelming reaction to be dampened. They never knew what to do in those scenarios, especially with their hands. It was either standing there awkwardly or back away, and they tended to avoid the former. The reaction to that was arguably worse. Dios, the yelling and frustration when someone felt disregarded was enough to cause Metzli’s own panic. 

Thankfully, there was no such thing occurring with Cass. She chose to listen, causing their brows to raise for a moment in surprise. Then, she complimented them, sparking some sort of feeling that immediately fell into the void. As all emotion did for them. Regardless, Metzli smiled—or rather, smiled in their own way. Their face remained completely neutral, yet they described it differently. 

“Your compliment is nice. Made me smile.” They paused, avoiding Cass’s eyes. “I have gallery and am an artist. Am supposed to be good.” Once the drawing was in Cass’s hand, Metzli put away their sketchbook and looked back to the fae, straightening their posture. The way she was looking at them began to unsettle them. It was too sweet, too…hopeful. Of all people, Metzli knew they weren’t one to have faith in. They were nothing, barely able to connect. Putting them in a bind would prove to be a mistake soon enough. 

She held the paper like a precious thing, careful not to bend or fold it. She’d have to find somewhere safe to keep it. The cave, as much as she adored it, was moist and humid in a way that wouldn’t do well for the sketchbook page in her hand. She may be able to preserve it a bit longer if she tucked it away between the pages of one of the comicbooks, but it would only be a temporary solution. Maybe she’d ‘acquire’ some kind of a frame for it. That was a thing people did, wasn’t it? They framed things and hung them up on walls. There were plenty of rocks along the cave walls that would work well enough as shelves, if she chose to use them as such. 

Carefully, Cass allowed herself to look back to Metzli. She was worried if she looked at them too long, the feelings in her chest might burst through, might cause that ‘overreaction’ Metzli had warned her against. And she didn’t want that. She wanted Metzli to like her. She wanted to be the kind of person they could like. So she only let herself meet their eye for a moment before looking away again, locking her gaze to a spot on the wall across the ‘room.’ 

“I’m glad,” she said, offering a smile of her own and working to make sure it wasn’t too wide. “I wanted to.” She glanced back involuntarily at the mention of a gallery, excitement thrumming in her chest. Was Metzli inviting her to something? It was difficult to tell, and she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it seemed like the beginning of… something. “Maybe I could come by sometime,” she said, testing the waters hesitantly. “I’d love to see more of your work. I like art.” It was true, though it came with another truth that she hadn’t said aloud: she didn’t understand it. People always described the way art made them feel, and Cass had yet to have such a moment of tranquility while staring at a painting. She liked comic books, but that was because of the story. She liked the sketch in her hand, but that was because it was the first time anyone had ever done something that was just for her. Maybe she’d like Metzli’s art because she liked Metzli. Maybe she’d finally understand what people meant when they talked about art when she was standing in the gallery of someone she hoped to make her friend. “What kind of gallery is it? Paintings? Statues?” She was a little proud of herself for remembering that humans — and species that had once been human, it seemed — liked to display different kinds of art. She’d only really heard it spoken about once, in passing, by a stranger in a cafe, but she had a habit of latching on to information gleaned from strangers’ conversations. It came in handy. When people didn’t talk to you directly most of the time, it was pretty much the only way she knew how to learn anything.

There was something bristling beneath Cass’s skin, as if she was holding something back. Years—decades of being seen and not heard had aided Metzli in honing the skill of observation. A mouthful of silence tended to lead to a head full of unwanted secrets, and in that moment, they were getting intel on Cass. She wanted to react, wanted to show her appreciation in an explosive way. The more that Metzli looked at her, the more they could see how Cass attempted to end the spark on the fuse. 

They huffed to themself, tapping their foot anxiously as they realized what the two things they needed to do. Neither were options they wanted, and knew they’d regret. But…Metzli couldn’t ignore the reflection of a past so desperate and sad. They were right there, and needed somebody—anybody. The undertones of words slipping through clenched teeth screamed so loud and Metzli was the only one listening. They were always the only one listening. 

“Girl!” The word came out sudden and forlorn, a stark contrast to the usual robotic and dead tone. Metzli looked down at Cass and resigned themself to a decision they knew couldn’t be avoided. If they wanted to destroy the soldier Eloy had created, to undo what their parents had done, they had to start at the beginning. Maybe neither of them didn’t have any meaning, and maybe it would be pointless in the end, but Metzli still wanted to try. Still wanted to see a different outcome. “First, I take you to the gallery and show you the exhibits. Okay? Do not react.” Their fists curled as their whole body tensed for the next part. The one where they told Cass to disregard what they had just said. “Second, you can react however you want—but…” They tensed their hand through their hair, preparing, “Only for seven second. No hug. No touch. Okay?”

Metzli’s voice was sudden, filling the cave all at once. Part of Cass had to hold back a wince at it, too many memories of sudden voices and sudden violence that followed. But Metzli wasn’t like any of the people Cass had known before, and she knew that. There was a moment of anxiety, a quick uptick in the pounding in her chest, but there was only a moment. She’d already decided she trusted Metzli. And Cass wasn’t one to go back on trusting someone unless they’d really earned it. 

Carefully, she continued to school her expression as Metzli said they’d take her to the gallery. It wasn’t quite a promise — Cass couldn’t bind them to it — but it was about as close as things got without crossing the line. And she believed them, anyway. She nodded, maintaining her version of stoic. It wasn’t very convincing. “I would like that,” she said, slow and careful to keep from breaking the rule of no reaction. If this was who Metzli wanted her to be, she was going to have to get better at being it. She’d practice in the cave after they parted ways today, stare at her reflection in the cave’s puddles until she could smooth it down into something a little… less. 

But… then Metzli got to the second thing. Gave permission to react in whatever way Cass wanted to react. And in spite of that trust she felt for the vampire, Cass hesitated. Metzli might say she was allowed to react however she wanted, but did they mean it? Could they handle it? Everyone Cass had ever tried to get close to had found her too difficult to stick around for long, too much of herself to ever be something worth keeping. Her parents hadn’t even tried, and the fae who’d taken her in after their departure had made it so abundantly clear that Cass, when she was being herself, was not an easy person to love. And it wasn’t as if they could lie about that, was it? So she paused, the hand not holding the sketch Metzli had given her clenched into a fist so tight that her fingernails dug deep into the palms of her hands. “That’s okay,” she said carefully. “I don’t need to.” 

Hesitation was written over Cass’s face, uncertainty that came with the transgressions of others. She was holding back. For what, Metzli didn’t know, but they didn’t like it. They could feel the tension in her body taking the whole room, and they sighed. She couldn’t find her voice in fear of theirs. Funny thing was, Metzli barely had a voice of their own. In that, the two were equal. Both of their worlds attempted to drive out the one thing that was supposed to be most intimately theirs, and Metzli would be a hypocrite to let the thumb pressing Cass against the floor to continue to crush her. 

“Do it, girl” Metzli beckoned, a hint of agitation permeating onto their breath. They had half a mind to compel her to do what she felt but that would make them as bad as Eloy, and the situation they were in wasn’t an emergency. “If you are happy, be it. Be you...” They paused, standing even taller. “Be you, idiot.” Metzli allowed a corner of their lips to curl ever so slightly at that, and they leaned forward, brow arched as they waited patiently for Cass’s response. 

She would be wise to allow herself to be honest with her feelings, to present herself wholly and fully. Despite being unable to completely feel their emotions or understand themself, Metzli knew this at their core. If there was no sincerity in her actions, then every smile will inevitably be a forgery so good that she fools herself. Maybe even Metzli, too. They hoped they wouldn’t fall for that. Their attention to detail was a little too good for such facades. Or so they hoped. Whatever the case, they waited for the illusion to dissipate so that Cass could let it all out. Well, whatever seven seconds would allow, at least.

There was some part of her, deep down, that wondered if it might be a trap. If Metzli was trying to convince her to be herself so they’d have an excuse to leave, just as everyone else had. Like the nymphs who’d tossed her out with the claim that she was too dangerous to love, like the people who’d left her behind the moment she stopped being useful to them, like Kuma and the love that had only been unconditional until it wasn’t. But Metzli couldn’t leave. Not without consequence. And unlike Kuma, they knew it. They knew what those consequences might be, had a friend who knew enough about fae to give them a fighting chance. They wouldn’t lay a trap knowing it would doom them just as much as it would Cass. They couldn’t. 

And there was the smile, too. Small, barely there, but present all the same. Though she’d only known them a short while, Cass knew Metzli well enough to know that this was a rare thing. Not something they’d waste to bait a trap that wouldn’t actually do them any good. Even though they had the capability to do so, Metzli wasn’t lying now. Cass could tell. 

Just like that, it was like a switch had been flipped. That excitement, poorly contained before, spilled out in a little squeal that bounced off the walls of the cave. Cass bounced on her feet, grin so wide it nearly split her face, and the thrill of excitement in her eyes shone so bright that her glamour flickered for a moment, allowing her eyes to glow the dull orange of the magma that danced beneath her skin. “This is the coolest thing ever! I can’t wait to see more of your art, it’s gonna be so cool!” 

Watching Cass react just as she wanted was like staring at the sun. Blinding and jarring in all the worst ways. And to make matters worse, Metzli wasn’t allowed to look away. Not when they were the one who told her to let it out. As horrible as it was, it was a relief to see that they didn’t reflect the damage they had been given. Rather, they were a reflection of what the treat they had yearned for.  But god, did it have to incite such a loud reaction? 

Metzli stood stoically and waited for Cass to settle, and wasn't surprised when she continued. She had two seconds left, and they were happy to see the finish line. They were worried if she had been allowed any more time that she surely would have literally exploded. While Metzli didn’t necessarily care if they died, it wouldn’t exactly be convenient when they were just getting to experience more than just Eloy’s clan. 

It probably wasn’t fair to cut Cass’s reaction short, but she was given enough, Metzli thought. More than she ever had, or so they were gathering. “With that done,” They leaned in, nudging their head toward the outside of the cave with only a slight grimace from the overstimulation. “Bring your books and we go to gallery. I show you art and you show me books after, sí?”

It was strange, the way Metzli didn’t look away. Cass was a lot. She knew she was a lot. Everyone she’d ever tried to get close to had told her as much, usually unprompted. She was loud when she was supposed to be quiet, quiet when she was supposed to be loud. Most people couldn’t stand to look at her for long, and she was used to that. It sucked, but she was used to it. But Metzli wasn’t looking away, and Cass knew it was only because she’d bound them, knew that they wouldn’t be here if not for their ignorance about all things fae, knew that there was a big difference between someone choosing to look at you and someone being forced to, but it felt good anyway. 

When Metzli announced that the ‘time limit’ they’d set in place was over, Cass quickly put the mask back up, forced her excitement down as far as it would go. She liked this thing with Metzli. If she wanted to keep it, she had to play by certain rules. That was okay. There were always rules to interactions; Metzli was just nice enough to say them aloud. 

“Okay,” Cass agreed, careful not to let the excitement back into her voice. “I’ll grab my books. And you can keep some at the gallery, if you decide you like them. Just give them back when you’re done reading them, right?” She gathered the comics under her arm, tucking Metzli’s drawing in between the pages of one of the thicker ones to keep it safe. “Come on. Let’s go.” It would be hard, not being too much. But Cass could do it. She’d make sure she was worth keeping around this time. And things would be different. They had to be.

[wickedmilo]

ABIGAIL, RIGHT? | MILO & ABIGAIL

PLACE: Crest Works Art TIMING: 9:12 PM SUMMARY: Milo stops by the gallery, hoping to see Metzli, but ends up making a new friend instead WRITING PARTNER: @morbidlycuriousabigail​ CONTENT WARNINGS: Drug abuse, addiction, alcohol, alcoholism 

Milo glanced up at the sky, admiring the ombre pastels of the dying light. Pinks mixed with blues, blues mixed with purples… as he dragged his feet, scuffing his converse against the rough asphalt beneath him, he couldn’t help but dwell on just how beautiful White Crest was. He still missed being able to watch the sunrise, but sundown had proven to be equally as enjoyable. The view only enhanced by the pills in his system, as he crossed the street, he felt them do exactly what he had employed them to; chase away any thoughts of his Sire. He didn’t need to make a decision right now, and after carefully side-stepping the day’s important, potentially life altering choices, he thought he might genuinely be happy. One oxy taken alongside an unmarked tablet he couldn’t remember the source of, and suddenly the apartment was dull. Suddenly he didn’t have any problems. Suddenly he needed to be out. Doing things, and seeing people. It wasn’t late enough for the clubs, and bars to be open, so he absentmindedly wandered towards Crest Work Arts. It had been a long time since he had set foot on the premises, and he always loved to talk with his roommate. Maybe he could tell them how much he loved them, or tell them how grateful he was to know they were no longer missing. Maybe he could talk them into pouring him a bottle of the alcohol they liked to insist was reserved for guests. As he passed by the row of familiar buildings, he came to a stop in front of Metzli’s business, allowing himself a moment to think about how much care, and consideration had been taken. The location, the sign, the logo, the window display… it was overwhelming to break down what actually went into creating something that could seem so effortless. At least, Metzli made it look effortless. Breaking out of his reverie, unsure of how long he had spent staring up from the sidewalk, he climbed the steps to push open the door, hearing a bell ring out to sound his arrival. Eyes immediately falling on the woman shuffling papers behind the welcome desk, he offered her an easy grin. “Hey, is Metzli home?”  

Abigail hated this part of the job. Standing there and having to talk to people was one of her weaker skills, especially on busy special exhibit nights like the one currently under way. She loved the art because it spoke without speaking, but her mental battery drained more and more past zero with each forced interaction, a fake and almost disturbing smile on her face to greet those coming in. She handed off plates for snacks and single glasses of drinks to each visitor when they came in, that usually helped in quelling their endless words. She had no idea how Metzli did this by themself. That dreadful monotony seemed broken up when Milo entered the building and approached the front desk, whether that was for better or for worse had yet to be seen. “No, they’re not here right now..” Her plastered smile fell apart as she spoke, her face recoiling to her usual blank and dull expression before she scanned Milo over with a curious gaze. “How do you know them?” Abigail’s voice carried none of the artificial honey it had in just moments prior, she was officially drained, and her bullshit-tolerance meter was empty. Seeing another guest walk towards them to ask questions, her eyes widened a bit as she met them with a deep and terrifying glare. All they wanted was a glass refill, so she poured them a full glass, prompting them to scurry away back to the others enjoying the exhibit. “They probably don’t want to talk about it, so I’ll just say that they are taking a well deserved portion of time off, or at least I think they are.” 

“Oh…” Milo couldn’t help feeling caught off guard, having been so certain his journey was going to end with Metzli. But company of any kind was welcome, and he was apparently incapable of experiencing disappointment in his current state of intoxication. Watching as the woman’s smile faded to be replaced by an expression he could only describe as disinterested, it encouraged him to befriend her. Maybe she was having a difficult day. Piecing together the stories Metzli had told him about their colleague, he wondered whether he was speaking to Abigail. “I’m their roommate.” He answered, a hint of pride lacing his tone at the reminder of the fact that Metzli had chosen him. Out of everybody in the world they could have taken in, they accepted him alongside all of his ridiculous bullshit. Faltering as a guest approached the welcome desk, he fell silent, eying the alcohol as it was poured and attempting to deduce whether it was the expensive champagne. Waiting patiently for the stranger to leave, when they finally did he leaned casually against the desk, toying with a small pile of business cards. 

“You’re Abigail, right?” He asked, unable to stop the question from escaping his lips. “Metzli talks about you sometimes. They like to torture me with stories of their… sexual escapades.” He teased, his eyes shining with humour. On a regular day he probably wouldn’t have been so upfront, but his filter was missing in action. “They know it freaks me out… but I guess that’s what siblings do to each other, right?” His smile faded when Abigail mentioned Metzli was taking time off, his playful demeanour being replaced by something more serious. He tried and failed to figure out whether Metzli was working from home, or genuinely taking a break. He knew his friend well enough to understand they wouldn’t stop working unless they quite literally had no choice. “They aren’t at the apartment.” He explained. “I thought they might be here… they can’t sit still, y’know?” Shrugging off his curiosity, he turned his attention back to the bottle still held firmly within Abigail’s grasp. “You know if you pour me a glass, I won’t tell Metzli if you also pour yourself one.” He prompted. Glancing around at the busy gallery, he tried to imagine how chaotic it might be to manage the business alone. “You look like you need one.”  

“Roommate? Ah, yes, I know of you. Milo, I believe?” Abigail reached forward and slowly dragged stack of business cards towards her, restacking them as perfectly as possible. It felt wrong to leave them just slightly askew. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Metzli’s..” Thinking for a moment, she came to realize that she didn’t know, but she was pretty sure they were good friends at least. “..I believe we’re friends.” She grimaced a bit at knowing that Milo had been informed of her less innocent endeavors with Metzli. That made things incredibly awkward, and Abigail hated awkward. “That is certainly interesting, they speak of you fondly, so I suppose any friend of theirs is a friend of mine.” That’s a common phrase, right? Abigail had seen it in a movie once. That pretty much summed up her knowledge of things when it came to interactions. Following Milo’s gaze to the bottle of alcohol, Abigail rose an eyebrow and quickly returned her attention to the young-looking person across from them, still grasping the bottle with one hand. 

“They probably need the time, they went through a lot the other day.” Abigail actively refrained from mentioning the murder that occurred in an office 20 feet away due to Metzli’s outburst, that was their business to talk about with their roommate, not hers. She glanced down at the bottle once again as Milo mentioned it. She was exhausted and could definitely use the drink, but she knew how she got when she was drunk, and she remembered that she was specifically only supposed to give drinks to people who entered the exhibit to view and possibly purchase the art. She stared at the bottle for a good few seconds, she pondered her choices, deciding to pour out 2 glasses for the both of them into the fancy champagne flutes. “Fine, but keep it shut. If they find out they will get more stressed and think I can’t handle this.” 

Milo grinned, pleased to hear Metzli talked about him often enough for Abigail to remember his name. “That’s me.” He agreed, noticing the way she hesitated when she tried to describe her relationship with the vampire. Maybe things were more complicated than he realised. “You believe?” He asked, curious to hear more. How could you not consider yourself friends with somebody you worked alongside? Especially somebody you had been intimate with… “Wait- they do?” He wasn’t necessarily caught off guard, Metzli loved him, he knew they did. But he always assumed they arrived at work ready to grumble about the trouble he caused them, about how he sometimes went missing for days, and never cleaned the apartment after making a mess. “Hm… I’m always ready to make new friends.” He confirmed, watching her as she seemed to consider the alcohol in her hands, the power she currently held over him. Pouting when she seemed to decide against indulging in it, he allowed her to move the conversation forward. Of course Metzli had told her what they had been through, but he was interested to know how much detail they had shared. Whether they were also telling Abigail they were fine when the evidence was questionable, at best. “Yeah… they did.” He admitted, a frown creasing his brow. He moved to shuffle the business cards, only to find they had been confiscated, shifted across the counter until they were just beyond his reach. “They won’t talk about it though. They keep telling me they’re fine so I guess I’m just… continuing as usual. They are too.” He sighed, doing nothing to hide his frustration. 

Raising his eyebrows when Abigail looked back down at the champagne, he tried not to get his hopes up, temporarily distracted from his worry. She was potentially avoiding his gaze, or debating whether to put the bottle back where it belonged. And if he tried to nudge her into a decision it really could go either way. But then she was placing two glass flutes down in front of him, and pouring some undeniably generous servings. It didn’t take long for his grin to return, and he laughed quietly at her comment. “Please… they’d be more stressed if I showed up and didn’t try to snag a glass.” He countered. Metzli was far too used to his behaviour to expect anything less, and when somebody accepted you for who you were, why bother trying to be anyone else? They even had first hand experience of his mindset, they understood the freedom that came with following desire. If they said anything he would just need to remind them of that. “Anyway, I think you’re handling things just fine.” He added, gesturing lazily towards the crowded room. “Have you sold anything yet?” 

Abigail’s hand gripped the base of the glass rather tightly as she leaned her head back, swallowing the healthy portion of champagne in a single gulp, followed by a wince reaching her face that showed brief pain and disgust, before it settled. She tried to make a habit not to drink, but tonight was a unique occasion, one that required a little rocket fuel to grease her wheels. “Yeah, I believe so. I’m not drunk enough to talk about this, especially with you. No offense.” Abigail didn’t bother sugar coating things. This wasn’t some random art enthusiast that needed a smile and a sweet voice so they’d buy art, this was Metzli’s roommate and sibling. He could handle Abigail’s rather harsh and honest demeanor. “They have mentioned you fondly before, at least they did a lot before what happened. They’ve been less… them lately. All we can do is be there for them, I suppose.” On that topic, She refilled her glass again, subtly making sure nobody else was looking before taking another loud gulp. She hated the taste, but it felt like her battery was slowly filling back up with the higher her blood-alcohol level went. 

“I’m trying, it’s a lot and I’ve never done any of this before. I’m just doing what my old bosses used to do, get young artists to make great stuff, and lure in a bunch of old geezers using snacks and booze to bring attention to the artists and the gallery. I haven’t slept in 36 hours.” Abigail did indeed sound exhausted, but she’d done more before, it was nothing, especially since it was for a friend. She couldn’t fathom having to manage the gallery all week every week like Metzli did. It was agonizing. “No art’s been sold yet, the time just started for the offers to start coming in though. Who knows, maybe somebody will buy something. I’ve got a piece up for sale, even if it’s being avoided like the plague over there.” She leaned out from behind the desk, pointing a pale finger across towards the exhibit, where an empty patch of space made it easy to see the piece that was being avoided, an almost indistinguishable, borderline abstract, grim oil painting. One person filled out a card to bid on it, but it didn’t look like they were genuinely interested, just slipping something in every other box.  

Milo’s glass was halfway to his lips when he realised Abigail had already finished hers. He initially planned to take things slow, if anything to ensure he was granted a second helping, but now that he knew he was in a space free of judgement he was more than happy to follow her lead. When his own glass was also empty, he set it back down on the desk, a smile tugging at his lips in response to the woman’s tone. “None taken.” He assured her, more than used to people being blunt with him. It was almost expected considering how often he liked to push his luck. “I have a habit of asking a lot of questions… no pressure to answer them, y’know…” Although his curiosity would take a hit, it only felt fair to make it clear she was never obligated to share anything with him that she didn’t feel comfortable sharing. Humming quietly as the conversation circled back to Metzli, he pushed his glasses further up his nose. It was both validating, and frustrating to hear somebody else tell him what he had already come to suspect. Something wasn’t right, his roommate really was struggling. But he still didn’t know how. And he still didn’t know what he could do to help, other than offer a supply of Xanax which was immediately, and rather vehemently declined. “I’m trying to be.” He admitted. “But they don’t always want my company.” It was difficult finding a balance, trying to understand when it was better to leave them alone, and when they secretly needed him to force his company. Sliding his glass back towards Abigail as she poured herself another drink, when it was full again, he eagerly picked it back up.  

Taking a long sip, observing the gallery while Abigail spoke, he was impressed to learn she didn’t have any official training in her adopted role. The fact that she had managed to fill the place was definitely an accomplishment, regardless of how many sales she made. “Do you need sleep?” He caught her eye again, hoping she would understand the hidden meaning behind his words. He knew she wasn’t quite human, but Metzli had never elaborated beyond that. If she was anything like a vampire then sleep could be considered a luxury, not a necessity, though she definitely sounded tired. Taking a step back so that he could look at the painting apparently up for sale, he stared at it for perhaps a moment longer than he needed to, fascinated by the composition. Something about it reminded him of a beating human heart, the red paint felt so visceral that he could almost smell the rich, and coppery scent of blood. Though strangely it seemed to be drifting into the room from the office. “I like it.” He decided, ignoring the way his mouth felt suddenly dry. He chased away his thirst with what was left of his champagne, offering Abigail a genuine smile. “You’ll sell it by the end of the night… probably. People like to wait, don’t they? I mean, they like to be all pretentious, and dramatic?” 

“I also have a habit of asking questions, mostly due to my lack of understanding about how things work.” Abigail’s demeanor had softened a bit, but she still lacked the barbie-esque smile she had worn during Milo’s arrival. As another guest entered the gallery, Abigail handed them a plate and a glass of champagne as well, before gesturing towards the exhibit with her head. She leaned with both elbows against the front desk, moving to pour another half glass, though she didn’t drink it just yet. “It’s cool, ask away. I’m an open book until more guests come by for plates and drinks.” Buzzed Abigail justified this thought process by the fact that she was trying to be more open and less of an asshole to people, so why not start with a friend of a friend? Milo seemed to be the type that wouldn’t go spreading information maliciously, and even if he secretly was, he hopefully would know better than to do that with Abigail’s information. “I get it, trust me. They just need time to process what happened. We’ve all had our fair share of trauma, right? Just requires understanding to conquer that shit.” She shrugged and downed her pre-poured serving of champagne before pulling a handkerchief from her suit jacket pocket and wiping a black makeup stain off the edge of her champaign glass. As Abigail reapplied some black lipstick, she leaned over again, checking on how the exhibit was going. A bunch of the young artists and their families had shown up, but a few small groups of art snobs had come to argue amongst themselves and compete over the pieces that they thought had the most ‘feeling’. It made Abigail a bit sick to her stomach, so she looked away, refilling her glass and Milo’s.

“Do I need sleep? Yes, we all do.” Abigail winked in an extremely forced and unnatural manner, before just dropping it and shrugging. “But yeah, I still need to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, all the usual stuff. Just came with a few new ‘cravings’ and blackouts.”  She didn’t seem to care too much about being coy at the moment, she knew everybody at the exhibit would be far too self involved or talkative to be able to hear and understand them from at the desk across the room. A small smile reached her lips at the compliment to her art, she did bear pride towards her art, and it made her extremely happy to hear that it was enjoyed. “I’m glad, most people think it’s gross, but then again, I suppose it’s not really for them.” The conversation felt nice, it kept her from being too overwhelmed by all of the sights and sounds. “I honestly hope one of these old snobs doesn’t buy it. I’d rather have somebody buy it because they really like it for 20 bucks than have one of these assholes shell out 2,000 dollars to keep it in a storage container to give away in their will.” 

Milo was intrigued to hear Abigail’s reasoning behind asking so many questions. It was similar to his own in a way that meant he couldn’t help but feel an immediate connection with her. “Me too…” He admitted. “I like to know how things work… when I don’t I guess it frustrates me.” He knew that stemmed back to his childhood, to the way his parents encouraged him when it came to academia, and his natural thirst for knowledge. Whether it had benefited him, he couldn’t say, but it had definitely pissed off more than a handful of people over the years. “I’m kind of glad I’m not alone in that, honestly.” Raising his eyebrows when she insisted he could ask her any questions that came to his mind, it felt like far too great an opportunity to pass up. “Hm, okay then…” He pondered, brushing aside the first few in order to find a truly interesting one. “What are you?” He asked, his tone taking away the blunt nature of his phrasing. “I mean… Metzli hasn’t told me much. I can hear your heartbeat, and you smell human, but… old? Not dead, it’s just… your blood doesn’t smell fresh. That probably doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, huh…” Taking another sip of his drink, he tapped his fingers against the glass, thinking about Metzli, about what he could possibly do to help them when they were determined to push him away. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He murmured, reaching up to press his fingers against the scars at the base of his throat. Pinpricks of anxiety tried to break through the haze of the drugs, and the alcohol, but ultimately failed. Leaving him feeling smug, and incredibly satisfied. If there was anything you could rely on to make your problems feel insignificant, it was recreational substance abuse. And thoughts of his sire remained blissfully at bay. “I don’t even know how to get over mine…” He admitted, the statement falling from his lips before he could stop it. “How am I supposed to help them get over theirs?” 

Finishing what was left in his glass, he could already feel the faint buzz of the alcohol filtering into his system. “Hilarious.” He deadpanned, enjoying the playful nature of Abigail’s dramatic wink. “Cravings?” The word caught his attention, and he became serious once more. He had more than his fair share of experience when it came to cravings. Acclimating to his need for blood had been one of the more difficult aspects of becoming a vampire. “What kind of cravings?” Glancing back over at the painting, he tried to take on a human perspective, to see what could be considered gross, or unappealing. But it was impossible. The colours, and the shapes were too aesthetically pleasing. There was nothing about it he didn’t like. “Yeah, well they probably don’t get thirsty when something reminds them of blood.” He pointed out. “Maybe it’s an acquired taste.” He was only half joking, he had no doubt the painting would sell by the end of the night. The room was filled with people who had too much money, and an obvious desire to spend it. “Wait, you would?” It was an unusual attitude for an artist to harbour, though he could definitely understand where she was coming from. When he wrote music he much preferred to show it to friends, and family, people who would appreciate the work. Selling it, sharing it in such a clinical, and impersonal way had never even occurred to him. “Two thousand dollars is, like… a lot of money.”  

Abigail listened closely to Milo as he explained why he asked a lot of questions, and she could relate quite a bit. She wouldn’t have predicted that they’d have much in common at all. “I’m just emotionally stunted, that’s what all of my therapists have said. Kinda hard to pinpoint where it happened, but knowing about the problem doesn’t fix it, so I ask a lot of questions to learn more.” She sighed, taking a sip from her glass and swirling it for a moment, looking down at the liquid. “It’s caused me more problems than it’s fixed, but at the very least I’m good at poker.. that’s a joke by the way.” Looking back up when asked about what she was, she clearly struggled to come with any kind of answer. All she knew was that she got screwed over by an Erinyes, she didn’t know what she was, and she only knew what her other half looked like because of the few survivors that she’d befriended, including Metzli. “A moose made of bones.” It was extremely difficult to tell if she was joking or not, but she didn’t intend for it to be interpreted as a joke. “As far as I know, I just have bad blood and I black out sometimes. It’s definitely not for vampires.” She gestured to the two band-aids on her neck, covering what was almost certainly a vampire bite. “Metzli practically flew across the room to get away from it.” She chuckled grimly, before pausing and realizing she’d probably said more than she should’ve. Abigail tended to get loose lips after drinking. She decided that it’d probably be best to follow Milo’s lead and change the subject. “Listen, I get it. Sometimes you don’t get over it, but you learn to live with it, y’know? It’s simple shit, you just gotta have the time to learn how to move through it.” She couldn’t help but reminisce, thinking about her childhood in White Crest and her adulthood in college, but she eventually escaped the spiral and made her way back to the conversation. “I don’t really know how to help them other than being there for them. I just don’t want to burden them with my stupid, pesky feelings, they’ve got enough on their plate, metaphorically speaking.” 

Abigail drank a bit more as she felt the alcohol hitting her hard. She always had been a lightweight, it ran in the family. “Well, it’s pretty weird stuff, but you drink blood so you’ll probably get it.” Leaning closer to be able to whisper what she was going to say, she was practically pressed against the desk to lean over it. “I went on a date with Metzli to this place called the black door, where they give you anything you desire deep down, right? And they gave me what I’m pretty sure was human steak, and ever since I’ve just had this annoying craving.” She leaned back away, shrugging nonchalantly. “I just don’t want to become a full-time cannibal or anything. I’m already technically a little bit of a serial killer, but there’s a big difference between that and going full Hannibal Lecter, y’know?” Abigail was incredibly unphased by the topic, most likely due to the booze in her system. That was also probably why she flowed so easily from a supernatural discussion to an everyday ‘normal people’ type discussion. “Yeah, I would. Listen, these old assholes buy up art when it’s cheap enough to not be risky, and let it sit for fucking forever until the artist gets famous or until they’re dead. They treat it like the stock market, which kills the meaning completely. It’s disgusting.”

“I decided a long time ago that I’d rather not know what a therapist might have to say about me.” Milo wasn’t being serious, but he wasn’t entirely joking. His parents had tried a handful of times to push him into therapy, but he was nothing if not stubborn, and had made a point of either not showing up, or showing up and saying absolutely nothing. Eventually all parties had come to agree it was a waste of time, and money. He smiled when Abigail insisted she was teasing, finding her need to explain rather endearing, especially given his current state. He could be oblivious at the best of times, but high out of his mind he had no hope of successfully reading social cues. He opened his mouth to tell her being good at poker could make her an awful lot of money in some circles, but he was distracted by her answer to his question. Faltering, it took him a moment too long to decide she was being honest. He thought about Metzli being swallowed by sand, about running from death eagles deep within the forest, about waking up eating fruit that somehow managed to deprive him of his soul, and every other ridiculous thing that had happened to him in White Crest. Jeez, he was dating an actual zombie. His bar for what could be considered weird wasn’t even functioning at this point. “Huh… never heard that one before.” He nodded, almost impressed by the absurdity. “You don’t have a name for it?” As far as I know… The phrase told him Abigail was still learning about her identity, he couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be one of a kind. To not fit into a box and have somebody teach you the restrictions that came alongside your condition. He was interested to continue discussing her moose form, but found himself incapable of ignoring her following statement. “Wait- Metzli bit you?” 

It could mean anything, he told himself. Anything could have happened to result in the bite. He knew from far too many stories that Metzli liked it rough, but they were undoubtedly loyal to Eilidh. That couldn’t be why Abigail’s neck was currently sporting bandaids. Choosing to skate past the mention of feelings, he hummed quietly, wishing it was as simple as being there for his roommate. He was trying, he really was. Metzli pushed him away every time. Leaning closer automatically as he noticed the shift in Abigail’s demeanour, he felt as though he was about to be let in on a secret. Whatever his mind had conjured up though, couldn’t compare to what Abigail actually decided to admit. “Human?” He echoed, taking a second to process what he was being told. Part of him wanted to ask where the meat had been sourced, but it was clear to him that she wouldn’t know. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t sometimes drink blood from the market, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t surround himself with people who chose not to ask where their food was coming from. “But moose are herbivores… right?” He wasn’t sure why it mattered. Humans weren’t supposed to turn into wolves, or come back from the dead. That didn’t mean it didn’t happen. “I, uh- I don’t think technicalities matter when it comes to being a serial killer… or, you know… not being a serial killer.” Confident that anybody overhearing snippets of their conversation would assume they were talking about a film, or a fantasy book series, he straightened back up again, an amused smile tugging at his lips. Once he would have been horrified to hear somebody had taken a life. Now it felt like regular small talk. “Hey, if you don’t want one of these assholes to buy the painting, why don’t you just not sell it?” It seemed like a simple solution, although he wasn’t sure what Metzli would say if they heard him trying to withhold an expensive work of art. “Life is short, right? I mean, I should know… I died when I was twenty-two.” 

“For people like us, it tends to not be enough to make a difference.” Abigail agreed on the topic, nodding for a moment. She completely got it, she’d been to therapy so many times and most of they time they recommended other therapists, mental institutions, etcetera. Nothing ever seemed like enough, but time heals all wounds, especially those of the heart and soul. It was something she’d come to terms with years ago. “Yep, got no clue other than what others tell me. It’s like I pass out and wake up in this infinite darkness, and a few hours later I wake up again back in my body somewhere completely different. Most people who survive it don’t stick around to give it a fitting name.” Abigail gave joking another try, taking a break from talking to drink more. The more she drank, the more it felt like continuing to drink was an amazing idea. She found her attention grabbed by her art piece yet again, watching as one of the young artists quickly and sneakily dropped a slip into the box for bids on it, letting out a small sigh of relief, before catching herself and forcing her attention back to Milo. Her head felt heavy. “Kinda like a unicorn though I guess. I’m completely alone in my problems. Always have been, even before coming back here… well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve met some good people here who’ve been present to help me when I need it. It’s not fair to mope and pretend they haven’t helped.” Normally Abigail wouldn’t admit such a thing out loud to somebody she just met. She didn’t like asking for help, and would prefer not to receive it most times, as it made her feel weak to need others, but she felt a tinge of guilt in the moment of not wanting to acknowledge the contributions of her friends. When the topic came back up of her being bitten, she froze, her eyes going wide. Abigail had forgotten she said that, and racked her brain to try to explain it in a way that made sense.  

“It wasn’t… they didn’t mean to, I mean they did, but it wasn’t what they wanted to do, and it wasn’t a sex thing either, they were just stressed, and hungry, and drank a whole person, so I think they were just kinda being led by their instincts and didn’t think about it being me.” Abigail spoke in an extremely ramble-y manner, clearly picking and choosing words very carefully while simultaneously saying anything they thought of. She sighed, leaning back and pausing, completely losing her train of thought in the fog of the moment. “Shit, sorry. Got a bit lost for a second. Let’s go outside, actually. I’m really hot and the bidding’s going to go on for like 15 more minutes.” She grabbed another bottle of champagne and walked towards the door, grabbing Milo’s sleeve to drag him along with her outside, noticeably leaving the fancy champagne flutes behind. Reaching the cool night air, Abigail let out another relieved sigh while she unbuttoned her suit jacket, sitting down on the steps leading up to the gallery. “But yeah, I think Moose are herbivores, but this one certainly isn’t. It almost exclusively targets supernatural creatures, but when it’s really hungry it settles for normal people meat. It’s beautiful sometimes, what’s left behind I mean. That’s weird, right?” Abigail looked over to Milo, awaiting an answer. “Yeah, it's a lot of money, but it's not enough to compromise the art for it. Gotta stand for something, right? And if I didn't sell it, then the person that really wants it and gets it wouldn't be able to get it, if that makes any sense" 

“Hm, maybe that’s true.” Milo mused. He knew for a fact that therapy had been helping Metzli before the beach decided to swallow them whole. But he had never been the type of person to feel comfortable in such a professional setting. He didn’t need it, anyway. He had friends, and alcohol. What more could a person want? “Oh shit, so you’re conscious? Just, like… somewhere else?” He had never heard anything so specific, but White Crest undeniably liked to keep things interesting. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying that must be. He thought about it sometimes when he was with Silas. Although Silas lost time when his brother possessed him. It sounded as though Abigail was forced to sit with herself, painfully aware of each second that passed her by. “Well maybe you should name it.” He said, raising his eyebrows as he gauged her response to the suggestion. “Wouldn’t that kind of be like taking control?” As she turned to eye her painting again, he did the same, hearing her quiet sigh of relief when another bid was submitted. He supposed it had to feel nice to know the artwork was wanted, regardless of who was trying to buy it, and why. “I don’t think anybody is alone in this town.” He admitted, temporarily distracted by memories of Eilidh, and James. They had been the first people to really see he was struggling. They had been the first people to show him things were going to be okay. “I thought I was… for a while, at least. Turns out I was surrounded by people who could understand. I mean, they weren’t all murdered by asshole junkies looking to get high through their blood, but they get the more important shit. Like how weird it is to wake up as something new, and how difficult it can be to move on, y’know?” Falling silent, he caught the way Abigail’s eyes widened and knew she instantly regretted mentioning the marks on her neck. But it was too late, and he wasn’t going to let them go.  

He wanted to laugh at the insistence of them not being related to sex thing but even through the haze of his high it felt like too serious a subject. If Metzli was losing control, especially in public spaces, then he needed to up his game somehow. He needed to get through to them and make them see he was trying to help. “They killed someone?” He echoed, the scent of old blood becoming stronger when he realised it hadn’t been conjured by the painting. “Here?” He swallowed,  letting his more complicated emotions float away from him, choosing to focus on the ones that were easier to manage. Sometimes he found it impossible to believe the majority of the world existed without leaning on drugs for support. Watching as Abigail trailed off, her expression clouding over as she became lost in her thoughts, he waited for her to continue before speaking, the significance of a previous statement finally dawning on him. “You really like them, don’t you?” He sympathised. He knew what it was like to have feelings for somebody who maybe didn’t feel the same way in return. Orion had left him, though. Metzli was still very much in town, and Abigail had to see them every day. Offering her a smile as she grabbed the champagne, he allowed her to tug him towards the exit. The cool air hit him with force as he moved to take a seat on the nearest step, but it was refreshing rather than uncomfortable. Apparently Abigail agreed because she bega to loosen her jacket as she joined him. “Huh… why supernatural creatures? Half of them are undead. I have a feeling we probably don’t taste very good.” Thinking for a moment on her admission, he knew it was a problematic thing to find beauty in, but after seeing Abigail’s painting he couldn’t disagree with her. “Maybe a little. But I don’t know what counts as weird anymore…” Listening as she moved on to explain the specifics of her perspective, he hadn’t even considered the person who would be missing out. She was right. It would be a shame if it ended up in a storage unit when someone who truly appreciated its beauty couldn’t afford to take it home. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that. It makes a lot of sense.” 

After taking a deep swig from the champagne bottle, Abigail passed it over to Milo, seeming satisfied, whether that be with the beverage, or with the entire scenario. “Yeah, it’s like.. Being trapped in an infinite black void, but also being trapped inside it at the same time. Like Shrödinger’s cat, that’s the best way I can put it. I’m completely conscious though. It kinda feels like it goes faster inside than outside though. Longest I’ve ever been in there was a day, but it only felt like half a day had passed.” She adjusted her position to angle herself towards Milo a bit. She was used to looking at the other person during a conversation, it seemed weird to just talk off in the same direction, probably more weird than it would have felt if she was sober. “I guess it would feel nice to name it, but I’d probably give it a dumb name out of spite. If you haven’t noticed, I’m an extremely spiteful person.” Abigail stared off for a few moments, thinking with all of her currently functioning brain cells. “All I can think of are various curse words followed by moose. I’ve got nothing.” She joked, unable to keep from cracking a tiny, sly grin. “Well, nobody’s truly alone in their experiences, but what makes somebody alone is the fear of reaching out again. You just have to build up enough courage and callousness that you can handle the rejection, and until you do, you hide, or you seek out sensations to fill the void.” Abigail hit herself a little to close to home, falling silent and staring down at her lap for a second while Milo spoke about his found family. She eventually looked back at Milo, nodding in understanding. “You’re a good friend, Milo. You keep good company because you are good company. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have such a sudden change in lifestyle. I can’t even imagine dying. What was it like to go from one side of the world to the other? I’m lucky enough to still be able to sit on the fence.” Abigail couldn’t help but notice the deafening silence that took over when milo’s gaze fell to her neck. 

“Yeah, here, but it’s fine. I helped clean up, I think their partner got rid of the body, everything’s fine. They just lost control, they’re dealing with a lot.” Pausing for a moment again, Abigail soon spoke up to break the silence. “Have they ever been like this before? Tormented by something and resolved to deal with it alone?” Abigail hadn’t known them for long. She knew them for the longest out of her new White Crest friends, but it still wasn’t long enough for her to know what to do when somebody needed help. The concept as a whole was confusing and frustrating. When the topic was breached about Abigail’s feelings, she wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them closer to her chest. Something about the position felt calming. “Yes? No? I’ve got no fucking idea. I haven’t had real friends since elementary school, so how I feel is something not even I have deciphered. All I know is that I think they’re great, and it’s nice to be around them, but I could say that for anybody on different levels. It’s not a priority right now, it’ll just add more stress onto them and then more stress onto me.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands, feeling a little nauseous. “I’m just… new to all of this. It feels more uncomfortable than the whole supernatural thing.” Abigail took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down. She could swear she felt a ringing in the air, like a dogwhistle was nearby, forcing a knot to form in her throat and making her heart sink. A stray cold breeze helped her ground herself, allowing her to slowly lower her hands from her face. “I think it’s like a fuel source, like how vampires need blood. When it doesn’t feed for a while, I start to feel sick, and weak, like my muscle mass completely vanishes. That happened a lot at the beginning, but I learned to stop holding it in, and I’ve not experienced that weakness since. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it myself. I can’t stomach a lot of raw humanoid meat past a bite or two. Does blood taste normal to you?” 

Milo happily accepted the champagne, drinking from the bottle as he listened to Abigail describe her blackouts in detail. It was fascinating, but he couldn’t help feeling a spark of sympathy. He tried to imagine being trapped inside his mind, surrounded by darkness, completely out of control, and he couldn’t. It was too terrifying, too unsettling to even truly consider. And yet Abigail was forced to endure it, over and over again. “You lost twenty four hours?” He made no effort to hide his surprise. “Have you ever thought about trying to undo it? Like… trying to get back to how you were?” A grin lighting up his expression, he laughed at her observation. He hadn’t known her for very long but she certainly didn’t feel spiteful. “I hadn’t noticed, actually.” He admitted, hoping she would take his words as a compliment. “But a spiteful name could be hilarious.” Taking the following moment of silence as an opportunity to drink some more champagne, he was well on his way to not remembering the inevitable journey home. Metzli should be in the apartment when he returned, they were used to helping him take off his shoes, used to making him drink a mug of blood before encouraging him to get some sleep. “I mean, a name with a curse word in it sounds pretty great. You should definitely go with that.”  

His playful demeanour faded as Abigail moved on to the subject of rejection. He had some experience himself. He had been abandoned by the man responsible for taking his life, something he was still struggling to accept. Humming quietly in agreement, he swallowed down thoughts of his Sire. “There are so many people here who would be willing to stand by you.” He assured her. “You won’t get any kind of rejection from me…” He didn’t want Abigail to be afraid of trusting him, not if he could help it. Offering an easy smile when she told him she considered him good company, he could only hope that meant he was on his way to earning her trust. “Honestly? I don’t remember a lot… I was high, y’know? For a while I didn’t even realise anything was different… just thought I was on some, like- killer comedown.” He laughed at his poor choice of words, pushing his glasses up his nose as he handed the bottle of champagne back over to Abigail. “I actually found where it happened and there was blood everywhere… my blood. I must have been pretty out of it to not pick up on that. Things eventually worked out though, I guess.”  

He knew he shouldn’t be surprised by the mention of Macleod, but he was undeniably caught off guard by her name. Of course she had been the one to dispose of the body, and of course nobody had told him about Metzli’s loss of control. “Someone died… that’s like, as far from fine as you can get.” He muttered, realising as he did so that Abigail probably shared Metzli’s indifference to death. “But yeah, this is actually pretty normal for them. Though they’re usually tormenting themself, like… it isn’t always an outside force.” He still wasn’t adept at handling Metzli when they were battling their inner demons, he had no idea how he was supposed to handle them now. But he filed away his worry to be examined when he was sober, and less able to ignore the problems in his life adamantly demanding his attention. “They are great.” He agreed. “And they are nice to be around, you’re right.” He chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, remembering how confusing it had been to untangle the complicated feelings he used to have for Orion. “You’ll get used to it.” He insisted. “I know it doesn’t feel like you will, but before I became a vampire I didn’t have any genuine friends. I was a bit of a loner, I didn’t think I needed anybody. Now I look back and I just have no idea how I ever existed like that…” Turning to watch her as he spoke, he could hear her heart rate begin to elevate, and trailed off, giving her time to process whatever it was that had panicked her. “Do you know when it’s going to happen? Are there any signs to look out for?” He prompted. “Maybe you should stop by the market. They sell all kinds of crazy shit, you might be able to find a way to make it more… manageable.” Curious to hear she couldn’t hold down meat in her human form, he laughed at her question, able to follow her train of thought. “It tastes how it used to.” He explained, thinking back on the first time anybody had ever asked him to describe the taste of blood. “Only that taste is enjoyable now. An old friend actually theorised it’s the iron, like my tastebuds changed to enjoy the taste of iron. I licked an iron railing to test his theory because… well, why not? And it tasted pretty good, not that I make a habit out of licking rusty old metal.”  

Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised expression on Milo’s face from hearing something that was pretty grim. “Normally it’s only 3-ish hours, but I did almost miss my interview for the job at the gallery because of it. Actually, first day on the job, I slammed a heavy picture frame on my damn finger, started turning, and had to run out into the forest before I turned. Luckily somehow The Beast was talked out of its hungry mood.” Pondering the question of undoing what she’d become, Abigail felt like it was only best to give an honest answer. Milo deserved that much. “I think about it all the time… and I don’t want to. If I get rid of it, I’m back to square one again. Just another boring, weak person, working and doing little hobbies every day until I die as unremarkably as I was born. I’ve finally got power, I’m finally not at the bottom of the ladder anymore, and I don’t think I can give it up.” Pausing for a moment, she sighed and stared at her boots once again, thinking on her life before coming back to White Crest. “Do you want to know who I was before I came here? I was a nobody, who couldn’t keep a job and couldn’t find friends. Now I’ve got a good job, I have a few friends, and I’ve started crushing on my boss. It may be shitty, but this is the most ‘normal’ and good my life has ever been.” Abigail needed to take a second, taking a deep breath as she accepted the bottle back from Milo before promptly tilting her head back and downing a good bit before returning the bottle to an upright position. “Dumbass Moose, that’s the best I’ve got. What’ve you got for me?” She rose an eyebrow while looking to Milo, a small grin on her face. It felt weirdly rebellious to insult the thing that had been controlling her life for the past few months. Hearing Milo’s kind words, Abigail was a bit surprised. She’d only known him for a bit, but he was a genuinely good person and treated her like a friend, even though they’d hardly spoken. “Thanks, kid. You’re truly a good person. I hope you know that. And if you need anything, favors, an ear to talk to, or somebody to disappear, let me know.” Abigail returned a small grin, taking a swig from the bottle before lightly elbowing Milo’s arm and passing him what was left in the bottle. “Must’ve been some powerful stuff then. Strongest thing I’ve ever done was dimethyltryptamine, and that was 20 years ago at a Bon Jovi concert. Not one of my proudest moments.” 

“Well, death’s a normal part of life. You’re dead, they’re dead, that art forger’s dead, it happens. It’s not something to be sad over, it’s simply the end of the story, and the beginning of the sequel.” Abigail didn’t consider herself indifferent to death, she just believed it was something that should mark the celebration of what was rather than the sadness of what could have been. Some stories are just shorter than others, and somebody has to end the story eventually. “They’re stupid sometimes, especially when it comes to asking for help, but I suppose it would be hypocritical to be frustrated by that. All we can do is be there for them when it gets too hard.” She found her face fall back to a blank expression when the topic arose, nodding softly in agreement with Milo. “I hope so. I feel guilty keeping things from them, but I’m worried I’ll either lose my job or lose them as a friend if I tell the truth.” Pausing once again for a moment, Abigail let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I did something really stupid too. I asked to meet their partner sometime. Isn’t that pitiful? I guess I thought meeting her and knowing what she’s like would kill off whatever feeling’s going on before I get worse. Does that make sense? Who knows, maybe I’ll get a new ally out of it.” It was especially hard for Abigail to be optimistic, but the alcohol in her system helped a bit. “Well, sometimes I know when it’s going to happen, and sometime I can hold it in for a little bit, but the longer I hold it in, the longer it’s in control for after getting out. My nose and eyes start bleeding black right before it happens. Like-” Pausing for a moment, Abigail slapped her cheeks a bit shaking her head for a moment to show that the slap marks turned greyish instead of pink or red, a side effect of her blackened rotten blood. “-that. But if I get any warning, I start feeling kinda cold, and then feel like my cells are trying to pull themselves apart to reconstruct into something more. So far, no magic stuff I’ve found has helped, but maybe I can fix that.” She’d definitely put some more thought into it when she was sober, if she remembered to. If she could get some kind of switch that let her control when the change happened, it would change things for the better in a big way. “Odd, like how your preferred tastes change through puberty I suppose. The taste doesn’t change, but your reaction to it does. Fascinating. Also, don’t go licking rusty metal anymore, you could get tetanus or something.” 

“Well, despite what they think Metzli is actually pretty great at taking care of people. It sounds like you ended up exactly where you were meant to be… y’know, all things considered.” Milo smiled at Abigail, hoping she would be able to see that he genuinely believed what he was telling her. Fate was a questionable concept, but it wasn’t lost on him that he had somehow stumbled into the lives of so many people. People who were able to help him, love him, and support him in the way that he needed them to. A frown creasing his brow as Abigail began to explain why she didn’t want to change what she was, it felt like such an alien concept. He longed to go back to the way things were. When he was oblivious of the supernatural world, and the only real danger in his life came from his love of recreational substances. “I don’t think there’s anything bad about being unremarkable. You’re free… nobody gives a shit who you are, or what you do. Sometimes I miss being able to walk into a bar without scanning the room for potential slayers. It was… jeez, it used to be so simple.” He laughed quietly, thinking about his human life. Now that he knew what it was like to have friends he wasn’t sure he could give that up. But sometimes he missed the anonymity. Without friends there had been nobody to worry about. He could coast through life without ever shouldering responsibility, or expectation. “I miss it.” He admitted. “But I think I’m happy now.” 

Grinning easily at the ridiculous suggestion, he shook his head, struggling to come up with something that would successfully make Abigail laugh. “Death By Moose?” He teased. “Only with a pretentious spelling. Like, it’s all one word- or everything is spelled out phonetically.” Taking the bottle back, he leaned into her, finding comfort in the casual contact. He was relatively certain he was never going to call on her to make somebody disappear, but the offer of friendship was one he was all too willing to embrace. “Hm, I’m impressed you know how to pronounce it.” He caught her eye at the mention of Dimethyltryptamine. “I wish I could say I was on something more powerful. It would give me a decent excuse, but honestly? If someone wants to offer me a hit, I’m going to take it… doesn’t matter what I’m already on. That was my downfall, I can’t even blame the drugs.” If he was sober he knew there would be an edge of bitterness to his voice. But in his current state he could only find the statement both amusing, and incredibly ironic. He could still hear his parents telling him drugs were going to kill him one day. And they had, only they had been working in tandem with a vampire, something he wasn’t sure anybody could have been able to accurately predict.  

His smile fading as he was reminded of the life that had been lost, he couldn’t bring himself to agree with Abigail’s perspective. Though he also knew he couldn’t argue against it without being unfair to her. “Forgetting that, Mezli can’t just walk around killing people whenever they feel like it. Like- if they aren’t in control they need to do something. They need help.” He knew that already, finding a way to help was the actual issue. “They know I’m there for them… I’m just waiting for them to let me in. They can’t keep me out forever, they just can’t.” Handing the champagne back over, there wasn’t a lot of it left but he figured Abigail probably needed it more than he did. “I don’t think that’s pitiful… you’re being proactive.” He insisted, shooting her an encouraging smile. “You won’t lose your job if you tell them the truth, Metzli isn’t that kind of person.” He assured her. “But I think you’ll like Macleod… they’re good for each other. Maybe seeing that will help you untangle all of your thoughts, y’know?”  

Distracted by her elaboration on her transformations, when he reached out to stop her from hurting herself he was too slow, and caught her wrist as she was already lowering her arm. “You didn’t have to do that!” He was undeniably caught off guard by the display, but he would be lying if he didn’t admit he was fascinated by the grey colouring of her skin. She had black blood too, only it was pulsing through her veins. She could call it to the surface with only a little bit of pressure. Slowly releasing her from his grip, he let out a breathless laugh, recovering from his surprise. “Next time, warn me before you start self-harming.” His eyes were shining, letting her know he wasn’t being entirely serious, but the glimmer of amusement disappeared upon hearing what a transformation felt like. “That really doesn’t sound fun…” He knew through the people in his life just how transactional magic could be, but that didn’t stop part of him from hoping there might be a solution for Abigail’s discomfort. Brushing off her analogy, he wrinkled his nose. “I went through puberty once, I really don’t need to go through it again. And I really don’t think Tetanus is something I need to worry about…” He muttered. “But something like that… only it enhanced the iron, and burned away everything else. Most food and drink are tasteless to me now. Kind of sucks sometimes when I’m drunk and craving, like… a burger or something.” Glancing back up at the gallery as he heard the door behind him open, he was forced to move so that a guest could exit, and make her way down the steps. Sounds were carried towards him through the door as it began to swing shut, people discussing art, and sipping on their own respective drinks. He sheepishly turned back to Abigail, realising just how long they had been outside. “I guess we should probably go back in, huh?”

“I guess I get it, but my life wasn’t special before. Everybody wants to be the wallflower unless you’ve been one before. It’s awful not being seen.” Abigail lifted her chin a bit to angle her face towards the sky, closing her eyes as a gentle breeze passed by them both. It was refreshing, definitely helped to wake her up. She remembered her old life, the reason she came back here. After being deemed not guilty in the court case that took a many months from her, she couldn’t stand living in the house and town where she was the town weirdo. When she left, that didn’t change. Wherever she went, even though her past didn’t follow her, she always screwed things up in her own special fashion. She was just barely different enough to be the easy target, the ‘lesser’. College was hell, work was better but not good enough, and this town always called back. When she relented, she realized that she was meant for this town as much as it was meant for her, a home where she could find a job that didn’t require her to be as normal as others did, and friends that were okay with her as is, rather than ones that needed another head in the background. Abigail refused to go back to normal. She preferred being a monster to being nothing, at least that’s how she thought of it. “Happiness is fleeting, but if it takes a few unusual habits and tendencies to be happier, it’s worth it I think. Better to be strong and happy than weak and unhappy, don’t you agree?” 

Abigail did indeed laugh at Milo’s naming suggestion. It was rough, unrefined, and followed by a light hiccup. “Spelled like a shitty heavy metal band or something, that’s great.” Her laughter slowly died down as the pleasant moment passed. Abigail couldn’t remember the last time she laughed genuinely, though, part of that was due to her drunken state. Memory wasn’t exactly perfect at the moment for her. “I looked it up the morning after the concert so I’d remember to never take it again.” Looking over at Milo for a moment, there was a sympathy in her eyes for him, a young person who had his possibility of a normal life ripped away without his permission. “I’m in no position to scold you or whatever, I’m not your mom, but if you ever decide that you want to try living without the substances, learning to cope without them, you’ve got several people, including me, who will support you. And if you don’t want to, well, it’s not really my business. I’m a murderer, I certainly can’t give you advice on that matter, but I can give support.” She shrugged, trying to lean back a bit like she was on a couch, but just finding cold brick stairs under her back. Abigail let out a grumble as she sat back up, cursing under her breath. “Normally I wouldn’t even drink. My dad drank a lot, and I hated him for it… well, that and a lot of things.” The topic would probably affect Abigail a lot more were she not intoxicated. Luckily for the two of them tonight was not a ‘moose night’, thanks to the booze. 

“Maybe they’ll never let us in.” Abigail sighed, rubbing her temples with her index fingers as she tried to brainstorm how to actually help her friend, but nothing came to mind. She was disappointed with herself. She was (probably) the older person here, yet she had just as much, if not less, experience with how to help people. “Interventions are a thing right? Maybe you can reach out to a few other people that are friends with them, see if things feel off to them too, and try to talk to Metzli about getting help of some kind all together as a united front? I don’t know, in any situation I think I’d feel bad if they knew I didn’t believe that they were ‘fine’.” Abigail gladly accepted the bottle, tilting her head back and drinking whatever was left, down to the last drop. She certainly felt like she needed it. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I know they won’t fire me, but, I don’t know… the anxiety is always there, right next to that little butterfly feeling. That little ‘you know it’s wrong, you should be ashamed for still feeling like this’ thing. But yeah, meeting her will be helpful I hope. I’ve heard good things.” 

After having her wrist grabbed, Abigail rolled her eyes, shaking his hand off. “I appreciate the concern but I’m fine, and I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to show off.” She couldn’t help but find a little bit of amusement in seeing how surprised Milo was at one of the less harmful quirks she had as a side effect of her condition. “It’s not that bad, it doesn’t hurt at all unless I try to hold everything together. It’s more like… feeling like you’re being disassembled down to your basest components, and then I wake up in that other place for a bit. Sometimes there’s a little bit of overlap though, where I can feel that I’m not alone in there, but I can’t see the beast either. It’s akin to the feeling of being watched.” Hearing how Milo’s condition affected him, she felt even worse for him. “So you can’t even taste coffee? That sounds awful, I’d lose my mind.” She shook her head, although there was a hint of a joke there, as usual, her tone and mannerisms hid the nuances that made jokes evident. Abigail then pulled her sleeve back, looking at a black watch on her wrist at the time, letting out a sigh. She quickly stood up, blinking a few times quickly to try to re-enter a productive state. “Yeah, I think I should go wrap things up and kick everybody out for the night, but I appreciate this, kid. I’ll see you around, let me know if you want to sit and drink again, but you’re paying next time. Metzli might kill me for wasting a bottle of imported Dom Pérignon.” She patted Milo lightly on the shoulder before turning and heading inside, her voice loud, projected, and organized as she spoke to the remaining guests, ending the evening’s exhibition.

[honeysmokedham]

[pm] Oh. That's cool. I'll tell Munch. I'm not bored yet, keep going.

If you're going to act like you know the answers to all my questions, you're going to need to know them. That's all I got to say. I know your parents raised an asshole. Does that count?

All I'm going to say is you had your chance for free bear ear pictures. Not everyone gets that. Every time you call me annoying I become more powerful. It's hard being the funniest person in someone's life. I just know you sit around miserable all day until I show up and annoy you.

More honey for me. Speaking of which. You need some honey at Axis.

My questions are good. You don't know shit.

You know Metzli? Are they safe? Metzli gave me my knife. The other knife. It's pride month. You know, the month to celebrate being gay? Asexuals are allowed to celebrate too, so it's not about fucking people. It's just a month to be open and gay.

[pm] I don't think most bugbears can see ghosts. I think you're [...] weird for that. And I don't have time to list everything you can do. You can walk, too. And talk. And maybe even listen. See how it gets boring?

What, you think I know your bear parents personally? If I asked you questions about my parents, you wouldn't be able to answer them, either. That doesn't mean you're stupid. [...] You said you didn't want me to pay you with money, so you take what you can get.

Sure. Your ears are magic. [...] No. They're ears. Ears are not cute. They just need to hear. I think yours don't hear very well, because I keep telling you to be less annoying and you keep being more. Don't send me pictures of ears.

Honey is bad. You have bad taste.

My answers are good. You just ask bad questions.

I don't know. Metzli says there's a month for fucking people, and that everyone has a flag, and now people are selling pins with cakes and planning events. I don't know what the fuck is going on.

[deathisanartmetzli]

More Than Meets the Eye || Vic & Metzli

TIMING: Early August

PARTIES: @natusvincere @deathisanartmetzli

SUMMARY: Vic runs into Metzli and gets a lot more than just unwanted flirtation.

CONTAINS: Gore

As the final remnants of the sun dissipated, Metzli let out a soft sigh. It was a long day, a little too long for their liking, but it was finally over. Giving the place a final look, checking off each box on their nightly routine list, they heard a faint crack. Curiously, the crack seemed to echo. The sound of rock breaking apart likewise broke their concentration.

Following the sound, it led to the sculpture section of the gallery. Nothing seemed out of place in the slightest. Metzli walked through to make double sure, and when they found nothing, they headed back towards the front to grab their things.

Metzli was quick to swing the strap of their bag and engage their security system, doing it twice out of cautiousness. Their footsteps clacked against the tile floor, coming to a stop as they exited. The key slid in and an audible click sounded as the door locked. Pocketing their keys, their eyes caught sight of a rather beautiful woman. They smiled and thought maybe they could get lucky today. “Good evening, miss. How do you do? Lovely evening, is it not?”

The definitive worst thing about being a vampire (besides that annoying eternal life thing), was being forced to avoid the sun and it’s beauty at all costs.  Even in Vic’s worst days as a human, the sun had a way of adding both a literal and figurative brightness to her day, because even in the darkest of times, it always returned.  Now, without it, darkness loomed.  The quacks of the 21st century would say something about vitamin D deficiency.

The twilight of the late evening gave at least some sort of loophole from this problem, and it was when she found herself venturing out most when she wasn’t working.  The plus side, too, was that most people were too wrapped up in trying to get home to their families to even think about bothering her.  But fuck all, apparently she wouldn’t be so lucky tonight.

Vic usually lingered in her walks by art galleries, enjoying careful peaks inside if they were already closed for the night.  She had been planning on doing just that, too, until a person locking the door all but accosted her.  Her face instinctively formed into a scowl, automatically on the defence.  “I’m not your miss.  I am a grown woman”, she said.  At their second question, she looked the person up and down, a firm scowl still set, though morphing into one a bit more judgemental.  “Well, it was a good evening.  Do you need something, or can I continue on my walk?”

“My, my. You really know how to make a gentlethem swoon,” Metzli retorted with a chuckle. It wasn’t often that someone met them with such disgust within the first second. It usually took about ten, so this was a remarkable record. “I never claimed you as mine, but maybe just for the night you can be,” They flirted, horribly so. The fact that Vic had no interest only made them want to bother her more.

Metzli faced Vic fully now, hearing no heartbeat and gathering a familiar scent in their nose. They leaned onto the door and crossed their arms casually to take in Vic’s unrelenting visage. The sight only made them smile wider, revealing perfect white teeth. “Do you treat everyone with such charm, or is it only special people like me?” This was no longer about the art of flirting, but the art of annoying.

Just as Metzli opened their mouth to continue, another echoing and rocky crack resonated in their ears. This interruption made their head snap towards the glass doors, to peer inside. “Did you hear that?” Everything, the annoying and flirting, was out the window now. Something felt off. Something felt…sinister.

Vic stared stone faced at the person in front of her, blinking twice as she tried to decide exactly what about their interaction was so swoon-worthy.  She let out a huff, her stone face somehow becoming even more stern.  “I don’t belong to anyone, blobfish.  Especially not dense, odd-looking people like yourself.”  The lack of a heartbeat didn’t help either, though the fact that she didn’t think to automatically call a hunter on this person made her gut flutter uncomfortably.  Especially after hearing barely 3 sentences from them, it was already clear that they were relentlessly annoying.  Turning in a potential vampire should have been easy, but especially when they were as antagonistic as this person was.

“Can I tell you a secret?”, she asked, slapping on her famous fake charm for only a moment before turning it off in an instant. “There is nothing special about you.  Never was, never will be.  When I leave here, I will never think about you again, even though you’ll spend the rest of the month at least thinking about me. Now I’m only going to say this once, so make sure you turn on your listening ears.  Back. The fuck. Off.”

Just as she spoke the last of her threat, a loud, earthy rumble could be heard inside the gallery.  She turned to it, her eyebrows furrowed in investigation.  “Of course I heard it, stupid.  Did you accidentally leave someone in there with the merchandise?”  The sound rumbled closer rather quickly, and she forced herself to look back at the person in front of her.  “Don’t you work here?!  Shouldn’t you know what’s going on in your own place of employment?!”

Without a shadow of a doubt, Metzli knew they poked the bear thoroughly. Only, this was definitely a vampire bear with a vengeance against her own kind. Or maybe against amazing people flirting with her. They didn’t know, but they certainly knew she was way off base with the blob fish comment. “Whoa there. Blob fish? Fuck that. I’m attractive and you’re way too hot headed to acknowledge such decadence.” There was no malice in their tone, only a light joking one.

“Furthermore, while you have every right to turn down my advances, I don’t think I ever gave you a reason to be so…for the lack of a better term, bitchy towards me.” Metzli was mocking Vic, and it was obvious with the kind of voice they used. Layers upon layers of annoyance and sarcasm, molded together to serve in their words. Their toothy grin remained plastered on their face as they retrieved the keys from their pocket.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, gorgeous, I gotta ch—“ Something crashed into the door, breaking the glass and frame completely before Metzli could even put the key in the lock. “Fuck!” Glass sprayed everywhere as the two vampires were knocked to the ground by an unknown creature. It took a few moments, but Metzli managed to follow the trail of broken stone. Nothing but their eyes moved until they locked onto a grotesque and slobber-ridden chupacabra. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Hm, you seem really eager to prove how attractive you are.  Am I sensing some deep-seated insecurity here?”  Vic blinked in surprise when she was called bitchy, tilting her head in offense.  “Ooh, I can see why you approach strangers on the street instead of using acceptable ways to find someone to validate you as a person with fake praise and sexual favors.  Your lack of tact explains a lot.  Having a hard time finding a first date, Honey?  Try not insulting people you’re trying to pick up.”   She wanted nothing more than to slap the grin off their face, but her words had the ability to cut deeper than any physical injury could muster.  

She was about to bite again at the pet name, seriously second guessing her decision not to figure out for sure if this person was a vampire like she thought, when she was thrown to the ground unexpectedly, glass shattering all around her.  Her eyes landed on a slimy, thin, reptilian creature, and she looked at Metzli with disgust.  “What the hell is that?!”

She stood up quickly, dusting herself off and not bothering to help her companion stand up.  Was the gallery doubling as some weird, supernatural breeding ground?  She didn’t have time to ask, because the creature was seemingly bounding toward them without hesitation, fast and slobbery and with nearly nothing stopping it.

Gathering their wits about them, Metzli dove towards the chupacabra, not hesitating to halt its path towards Vic. Though most people would mistake this as a heroic act, it was more showboating than anything. “It’s a fucking chupacabra, numbnuts!” They barked out the statement, struggling to hold the creature still. Thanks to living over a century, their strength was more than quintupled now, but even that wasn’t a total advantage here.

Metzli huffed as they threw the chupacabra to the side, hoisting it several feet away. “That was a sculpture before it was this. Someone must’ve donated it as a threat or because they’re stupid.” They thought out loud as they moved over to Vic. Survival was crucial here, and so was keeping a low profile. God knows what this would do to the gallery’s reputation. And a woman dying in front of it too? No, that wasn’t going to happen. Not on their watch.

The creature growled and shuffled around, trying to refocus and find its prey. With widened eyes, Metzli watched as the beast loomed closer, baring its teeth in a threatening show of dominance. They stepped back slowly, trying not to make any loud noises. The time to get out of dodge was now, and they knew they’d have to bring the aggressive woman with them if they wanted to protect their gallery’s image. Before bolting for a dark area nearby, they reached for Vic’s hand, and uttered a single word, “Run.”

It was highly offensive to be thrown to the ground and then be called a name within mere seconds.  Vic shot Metzli a look, one that was sure to let them know how incredibly displeased she was, before her eyes found their way back to the creature, trying to study it.  She certainly had never heard of a kookaburra in White Crest, but stranger things had happened.  “That’s not a bird, you imbecile.  It’s a lizard!”

With the creature momentarily disabled, Vic took the opportunity to stand up, backing behind the person she had determined was responsible for this whole mess, Metzli.  “You and your staff didn’t think of double checking the matter before you allowed the statue in your facility?” she asked incredulously, disgusted by the clear lack of customer service going on here.

At Metzli’s command, Vic took off immediately, pulling the other person with her and not taking a second to look back to see if they were being followed.  Even if Metzli had clearly gotten the name of this thing wrong, they seemed to have at least some knowledge of what it might be.  “What the fuck does it want?”, she asked as they ran, no more breathless than she’d been when they were standing still.  “How do we fucking get rid of it?”

Metzli practically rolled their eyes all the way back as Vic ridiculed them and their staff. “I told you, it was a statue! A full blown, marble statue! No movement, and no charms indicated a live creature resided in it!” Their words jumped about as they ran, too frantic to keep it even. “In here!” Vic was pulled into a dark alley, a little roughly, but she was put behind them. Being much taller than her, they covered her completely.

“Chupacabras don’t normally go after anything but goats, I thought. But maybe it’s mad.” Metzli whispered, taking slow and controlled steps back, leading the two further into the alley. “If we stay put, it’ll go away and bother less important people. Like humans.” A quiet laugh escaped their lips and they grabbed a metal pipe, just in case. Vic seemed like she could beat the shit out of something, but Metzli couldn’t rely on pure assumption right now.

“Can you do anything other than be an ass? You look strong. Super strength or are you just one of the useless undead people with toned bodies for show?” Even now, Metzli just had to push some buttons.

“A statue in White Crest”, Vic shot back incredulously.  “It’s entirely irresponsible to assume that anything brought to your facility is just going to be normal.  Wouldn’t it make sense to hire some sort of...supernatural curator or something?”  Normally, she wasn’t so forward when it came to issues of the supernatural.  She wasn’t one of the idiots who flaunted her knowledge around the town as if they were speaking about the sales at the grocery store instead of something as life or death as supernatural creatures.  But Metzli clearly knew about the subject, so much so that they might be the only person helpful enough to help her survive whatever situation they had gotten themselves into.   She nearly let out a shriek as she was pulled, and her eyebrows pressed together at how close their bodies were pressed together.

She looked up at her companion, a huff leaving her lips before she spoke.  “Mad like angry, or mad like losing its mind?,” she asked, chancing a peak toward the creature.  She scoffed, pushing Metzli away from her at their idea.  “What kind of immoral slob do you think I am?,” she demanded, clearly offended.  “First of all, who said anything about being undead?”.  Even with an admission she knew of the supernatural, and this person’s apparent knowledge of her lack of heartbeat, a stranger would never get the privilege of hearing about her status as a vampire. “Second- we cannot just let this thing off to destroy people’s lives.  We have a responsibility to stop it before anyone gets hurt, you depraved ingrate!”

She swallowed, frustrated, and looked between Metzli and the creature once more.  “I’m a rather adept boxer”, she said, clenching her fists as she spoke.  “But I’m not confident that thing won’t turn itself back to stone once I try to take a swing- is that something it would do?”  Her eyes settled on Metzli, who she just decided she hated asking for help.  “What about you?  Are you good for anything other than being annoying and irresponsible?”

Boy oh boy was Vic getting on Metzli’s nerves. She was so hot-headed that she couldn’t even give a semblance of grace. “Listen, I’m trying to help you, despite how fucking disrespectful you’ve been. I’m new to this fucking place, but you’re too fucking busy to even give me a chance. A single. Fucking. Chance.” A low, guttural growl tickled through their throat as they glared at Vic. She had finally gotten on their bad side, it didn’t matter how hard they tried to push through the anger, they needed a minute.

Forcing a breath through their teeth, they squeezed the pipe to the point of leaving indents before finally succumbing to calmness. Metzli simply muttered, “They’re mad, as in angry. And no, turning to stone isn’t a specialty. Someone else must’ve done that. Also, I can obviously hear that you have no pulse, and you’re fucking freezing.” They rolled their eyes and paced forward to the entrance of the alleyway to take one last look at the chupacabra. “Fine. We’ll take care of it. But only if you stop being such a dick. I was trained in a clan and can handle myself well, and…fuck. Fine. If you need help, I guess I’ll have your back.”

They reached a hand out, motioning for Vic to shake their hand, “A small truce for now. I don’t know what your problem is with your own species, but I’m willing to put aside everything if you are. I haven’t had the best few weeks so…I—so—ugh. Sorry I blew up.”

Vic blinked, stopping for a moment to let her gaze fall on Metzli as they blew up on her.  She pressed her lips together, processing exactly what was being said to her.  Everything that they said felt justified- they were thoughts that had been tossed around her own brain for decades now. Thoughts that she worried everyone felt anyway. But still, despite how her mind was feeling, her mouth went on the defense.  “I’m too busy trying to survive”, she muttered, though her eyes flashed away from Metzli’s.  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Her eyes wandered to where Metzli’s hand was wrapped around the pipe, and then back to their face, letting out a low breath of her own.  “What do you suppose it’s so angry about?”, she wondered aloud, bracing herself for a fight with the creature, as if one were only moments away.  “I have an undiagnosed medical condition”, she lied matter of factly, not interested in sharing the truth.   She wanted to tell Metlzi that they’d probably take care of it in terms of self-preservation anyway, but maybe after upsetting them, it was best to leave well enough alone.  She let out a huff before shaking their hand reluctantly.

“A truce”, she agreed, as ridiculous as it felt, “I suppose I can put insulting your character on hold until we’re in a safer situation.  I’m… sorry if anything I said offended you”, she said through gritted teach.  Before either of them had a chance to have any closure on their apologies, the creature was bounding toward them.  It rushed it’s body into Vic, sending her against the wall of the gallery with a grunt.  

“It’s probably mad at the people who turned it int—” Words were interrupted by the bellowing roar of the bounding chupacabra, followed by a crunching blow. There was no time to react, to stop the beast from running straight into Vic. Without thinking, Metzli threw their body at the chupacabra before it could do anything else to her. The metal pipe was thrusted into its chest with pure force and it screeched in pain.

Limbs thrashed and teeth snapped over and over again until Metzli was successfully thrown off. “Come on, Medical Condition! Rip its fucking head off!” they demanded, getting pummeled and bitten over and over again. Black blood pooled on the ground as it seeped from every bite.

A hand found a slippery grip on the protruding pipe, pulling it out and using it as a method of defense. It was the last resort, the last chance Metzli had against the devastating blows. Whether they lived or died didn’t matter, but they made a truce and told Vic they’d protect her. And if there was anything Metzli was not, it was a liar. They kept it distracted, trying to give Vic the chance to compose herself and attack properly. It was a struggle, but they wouldn’t lose their resolve.

Thankfully, Vic’s brain had the chance to process what Metlzi was trying to say before the wind was figuratively knocked out of her.  It would have crushed her body if not for Metzli’s intervention, and for the first time, she was actually thankful for their presence.  With the new defensive attack, the beast had found a new target in Metzli, and at first, all Vic could do was stare in disbelief at it’s anger and violence.  Violence on this scale, while it was something she might have incited, wasn’t something she experienced first hand often, or even liked to think about.  It brought back painful memories that were too stubborn be forgotten after 400 years.

But then her companion’s words shook her out of her temporary stupor and she sprung into action, using the chupacabra’s distraction to her advantage.  She jumped on the creature from behind, muttering expletives in Swedish as it tried to throw her off, fighting for dominance.

She grit her teeth when she finally got a good hold of it’s head, and with Metzli’s earlier advice ringing in her ears, she tore it off.  The creature’s body stood stiff for a moment, as if time had frozen between the three of them, but then it tumbled to the floor, sending Vic down with it.

She looked up at Metzli, the previous rigor of a fight in her features replaced with concern.  It was the first time she had felt any type of sympathy for the other person.  “Are you going to be okay?”, she asked, pushing herself up.  “You’re looking rather rough.”

Stillness took over not only their body, but the air surrounding the two. Metzli felt their thick and congealed blood pool around them, and they felt so hungry. The chupacabra’s body was still very much warm as it laid dead on the ground next to them. “Nice job, Medical Condi…” But they trailed off, black consuming their vision as dizziness took over their head. Rolling over, they managed to get to their knees and crawl to a wall to prop themselves up. This was the worst condition they had been in since their days in the clan.

“I think after all of that, I should get at least a date at the bar,” Metzli coughed raspily until it bled into a dry chuckle. Despite the pain they were feeling, they wanted to give the notion that they were more than fine. Great, even. “I’ll even buy the drinks.” They continued to joke, only being half-serious about the gesture. Vic was definitely appealing visually, and even showed strength that they respected, but her personality was a little too hot-headed for their taste. But if there was anything Metzli had learned in their years of living, it was that people, just like them, put on a front to conceal their true selves from others.

“Hey…”, Vic said, walking the short distance to them.  She rested her hand on their back, leaning down to get a good look at their face.  Their condition was possibly even worse than she thought it was, and there weren’t many ways to help an injured vampire that she was comfortable with.  

A Vic from last year would have seized the opportunity to turn them in to a hunter.

Instead, she said, “We need to get you some animal blood.  I know a guy, if you don’t.”  She tucked a hair behind her ear, still refusing to acknowledge the truth of what she was.  Thank god for Metlzi’s impeccable timing for annoyance, because it gave her a chance to recover.  “Don’t hold your figurative breath, Sweetheart.  You know, you’re a lot more likely to get laid if you don’t sound so desperate.  You sound like an insufferable teenager when you continuously come onto someone who’s clearly not interested.”

She pressed her lips together, leaning her back against the wall they were using as a crutch.  “Sorry about your statue”, she said genuinely, gesturing to the bits of glass that surrounded what used to be a door.  “I hope the gallery has good insurance.  

Seeing Vic a little concerned, Metzli couldn’t help themselves and said, “Ha. You care about me. Well, you did. For at least two seconds.” They spit to the side, black blood spattering on the floor. Aches and pains cascaded to every nerve, making them grimace as they got to their feet. “Nah, I’m good, Vic. I’ve annoyed ya enough for one evening. It’s getting boring.” Each step hiccuped with a limp and they rolled their eyes at themselves. Being so injured was annoying, but it was also exhilarating to have been so close to death. So close it made them laugh. “That was a lot of fun though. Would’ve been funny as shit if I had died.”

Vic’s concern was so out of place that it made them stumble and reposition their hands on the alleyway wall. “My gallery will be fine. Thanks, though. Maybe you’re not so bad. ” Metzli teased, walking around the corner and passing the ruins of their entrance door. Glass crunched under every step. They sucked their teeth and took out their phone to start making calls for the door, subsequently taking out a business card and holding it out for Vic. “If you wanna keep in touch, here’s my card. Sorry your night got all ruined. Pretty women like shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this.”

Vic didn’t bother to suppress her eyeroll, which was so much easier than acknowledging that Metzli might have been right.  Still, there was an itching of concern for them, especially when it was notable that they were still definitely not in good shape.  “Our definitions of fun are vastly different”, she decided out loud.  Inwardly, she decided to walk Metzli home, or at least make sure they got home okay.  She figured it’d be better than having to worry the whole night if they made it safely or not.  Even if she’d have to sneakily wait till whatever time they decided to leave.

She took their card, but vowed to destroy it when she got home.  In her hands, if she were in another state of mind, it would be too dangerous for her to have that kind of information. She let out a breath, tucking it into her pocket and looking back at them, her face barely changing.  “Nobody should have to deal with shit like this”, she argued, unblinking.  “But I guess that’s the world we live in, isn’t it?”

For so long, she thought she had been making the world they lived in a better place by ridding it of vampires.  When one proved to her the amount of humanity they could have, like Metzli did tonight, she had to wonder who the real monster was.

[muertarte]

PARTIES: @muertarte @mortemoppetere

SUMMARY: Metzli and Emilio meet up at the dog park for their babies to have a playdate and for new clothes for Perro.

TIMING: Current

WARNINGS: Emotional Abuse (mentions), Physical Abuse (mentions)

He wasn’t sure he should be out and about just yet. The damn qutrub had taken a lot out of him — namely, an impressive chunk of his arm and what felt like about half his fucking blood volume — and slayer healing really only went so far. But Metzli had offered that dog training lesson, and Emilio was a little too proud to cancel on them on account of an injury that, in his opinion, was fairly minor, anyway. Besides, Perro could use more friends. Emilio was pretty sure the dog was talking to the bugs in the walls. Metzli’s dog was bound to be better company than that. 

So, he put the leash on the dog and he walked to where he and Metzli had agreed to meet. The dog park. Because apparently, that was a thing. A park for dogs. It sounded like something someone had definitely made up, but it seemed… real. There were benches and picnic tables inside a wire fence, people sitting down with dogs running around. One section contained a large crowd and, in the other, Metzli seemed to be sitting alone. Privately, Emilio was a little pleased that they’d managed to scare everyone off already. He wasn’t looking to talk to anyone he hadn’t intentionally come here to talk to. 

Entering the gate, he walked Perro over to where Metzli sat and settled onto the bench beside them, hiding a wince. Perro sat at his feet, waiting for the leash to come off. When it did, he trotted over to Metzli’s dog. Emilio nodded. “Guess yours isn’t as ugly in person,” he commented. “Don’t know if Perro’s met another dog before. Guess we’ll see if he likes it.”

Fluffy barked, zipping around the picnic table selected specifically because it was out of the way from everyone else. He had what Honey liked to call The Zoomies. Metzli supposed that was appropriate. He zoomed around everything, especially the ball he so obviously enjoyed. His favorite game? Fetch. 

No matter how long the two played, Fluffy never seemed to grow tired of it. Even when he lost the ball on his left side, where he couldn’t see, he ran and ran until it was found again. It was silly to think of that as such a strong example of persistence, but Metzli knew better than anyone that it was all about perspective and relativity to each matter. No two were ever the same. A dog’s problems could never be at the same level as a person’s and vise versa. 

Metzli had just picked up Fluffy’s ball by the time Emilio showed up. Their bloodshot eye and purple skin from the spawn’s attack were obvious, but they hardly cared. The two dogs were sniffing each other happily when Metzli finally responded back. “Is good to expose. Take him to vet yet?” They threw the ball, quickly diverting both dog’s attentions and they gave chase, leaving the vampire and slayer to talk.

It looked like Metzli had been through the ringer, too. Selfishly, Emilio was almost glad for that. It was stupid, considering he didn’t mind them, but if they were sporting injuries of their own, they’d probably be less likely to prod him about his. Not that Metzli seemed the type to ask, anyway, but mutually assured destruction seemed to seal the deal in a way that was much more certain.

Perro seemed happy enough to have a friend, at least. He chased the ball the moment the vampire threw it, tail wagging excitedly even as he struggled to keep up with Metzli’s dog. Three legs didn’t move quite as quickly as four, it seemed. Emilio could relate to the disadvantage. He stretched his bad leg out even as his top half seemed to curl into itself to take pressure off the injuries sustained there. Getting your ass kicked could force you to walk the strangest kind of tightrope while you were healing, sometimes.

“No,” he admitted, watching the dogs run. “Don’t think it’s a good idea yet. He’s scared all the time. Don’t want to make it worse.” And, fuck, maybe he could relate to that, too. To living through something that wouldn’t leave you, to living with your heart beating a little too fast and your hands shaking a little too much. “Yours doesn’t wear clothes to the park?” He was still getting used to the… rules of it all. When he’d entered into fatherhood, he’d had a family to help him out. A partner. His thumb twirled his wedding ring absently. He was alone in this particular journey now. And a dog, as it turned out, had very different rules than a kid. Who fucking knew?

“Hmph…” Metzli quietly chuckled to themself as they fully digested Emilio’s damage. It appeared they both had had their own battles. And yet, they both managed to keep to the plans they had made. Both stubborn and determined, Metzli guessed. It made sense. He was a slayer, after all. As much as he likely didn’t want to see it, even the vampire could see that both sides of the never-ending war shared many similarities. It wasn’t meant to be offensive. Just a fact they had observed over their long life.

“Is good idea to take him. Get things he need and checkup.” Fluffy returned with the ball, dropping it and sitting to wait. “He look healthy at least.” Metzli picked up the ball and pretended to throw it, sending Fluffy careening down the direction the ball would’ve gone. When he was far enough away, the vampire tossed it lightly for Perro, giving him a chance to get it himself. He happily ran for it, returning with his prize a moment later and dropping it in front of Emilio. 

Metzli watched with a hint of a smile, enjoying the way Perro panted happily and wagged his tail. Already, they could tell he was a smart one. “Is too warm for clothes today. If cold, then I put sweater on–oh.” Metzli remembered the box of clothes they had offered Emilio. They opened it up, “Have clothes for him. And shoes. Not get too hot here but if it does, then there are shoes to protect paws. Make sense?”

He could feel their eyes on him, looking him over. Instinctively, he stiffened under their gaze, straightening his back and pulling his leg back in to himself as if he could erase their perception of his shitty state just by changing his posture. He knew it was pointless. Metzli seemed the observant type and even if they weren’t, it didn’t take much observation to see that Emilio looked like shit. He had to remind himself that they wouldn’t use it against him, that Metzli probably didn’t want him dead in spite of the way his senses were screaming about their undead status. He’d never been acquaintances with someone undead before. He’d never really spent time in any undead’s presence for longer than it took to either kill them or decide not to kill them. It was a strange kind of feeling.

“Yeah, probably.” It felt foreign. Flora had never had a checkup. Emilio had never had a checkup. Doctors weren’t the sort of thing his mother believed in, and she’d passed that belief on to him the same way she’d passed all her beliefs on to him. Which was to say… largely by force. He watched Metzli toss the ball, watched Perro run to get it. When the dog dropped it by his foot, he bent over to take it in spite of the way it irritated his aching ribs, tossed it even though it made the duct tape holding the wound on his arm shut come loose. Perro seemed so pleased to chase it that it made it all feel worth it, somehow. 

Watching as Fluffy chased after Perro in hopes of stealing the ball, Emilio nodded. No clothes on hot days. It made sense. He glanced over as Metzli shifted, looking into the box full of clothes. “Sure,” he agreed. Paws against hot concrete was sure to be an uncomfortable sensation. He reached into the box absently, pulling out a sweater and turning the fabric in his hands. It was soft. He couldn’t imagine Perro would like wearing it. But… when you were responsible for something like that, you had to make it do things it didn’t want to do to keep it safe, sometimes. The ever-present ache in his chest grew a little at the thought. “How’d you end up here, anyway? Long way from Mexico.” 

Watching Emilio put aside his pain for the sake of Perro’s fun looked natural. As if he’d been in the position of a guardian despite him saying he was a new pet owner. Then, Metzli caught it–the way Emilio idly fidgeted with what they could only guess was a wedding band. With marriages, sometimes come children. Metzli wondered if Emilio was a father now, or worse, not anymore. They wouldn’t dare ask, knowing there was pain behind the answer. He was alone. That was answer enough. Any more prodding was just torture, and despite Emilio being a slayer, an enemy to Metzli’s kind, they didn’t feel the need to hurt him. He’d done nothing wrong, not to them. The least they could do is grant him some sort of kindness.

“Clothes have legs for all but the one you mention. If no back legs, then clothes do not stay on. Oh–” Metzli searched the box quickly for a particular piece. One that was weighted and specifically designed for anxious pets. “This one is good for when Perro has ansiedad. Help with that. When away, you put it on, y ya.” Putting everything back, Metzli nodded along to Emilio’s question, their brows twitching as they recollected all the events from Teocaltiche. The only home they ever had. If you could call it that.

“After I kill master, everyone went divided. Some happy, some mad. Even some people who help were angry.” Metzli pushed the box aside, focusing their attention to the ball that was just dropped at their feet. They tossed it softly, continuing their explanation with a tinge of sorrow that broke past their usual neutral voice. “They want me to be new master or die for destroying clan. But I made a friend when she was looking for people in Jalisco and she drove us here. Was resident before. Now we stay.” 

It was clear that some work had gone into it. The way the clothes had been altered to fit Perro’s stumpy, three-legged form, the front left leg on each shirt removed and sewn shut. There was something strange about the thought of Metzli doing that, something that didn’t quite compute the way it ought to. Emilio had been taught, as most slayers were, that vampires were little more than killing machines. Good for little outside of violence, craving death everywhere they went. He knew it wasn’t true, even if it had taken a lot of effort to shake the thought from his mind, but knowing something in theory and seeing it in action were two incredibly different things. A vampire had spent what must have been a pretty good chunk of time altering clothing for his dog. It sounded like something out of fiction.

He took the weighted shirt, balancing it experimentally in his hand. It wasn’t so heavy that the weight would be too much for Perro, but he didn’t understand how it might help with the dog’s anxiety. “Strange,” he decided, setting the shirt back into the box. Perro chose that moment to return to the table, leaning his body against Emilio’s legs until the detective leaned down to scratch him idly behind the ear. He looked back to Metzli, to the way their brows twitched. Part of him wanted to tell them that they didn’t have to recount their story if they didn’t want to, but he wasn’t sure why. Empathy wasn’t something he’d been taught to understand, after all. 

It didn’t matter much, anyway. They went on, telling their story in a monotone as he nodded along. It made sense, in a way. People, even undead people, liked structure. When that structure disappeared, even if it was for the better… Sometimes, it was hard to handle. Emilio thought of his own family, of how terrified he’d been at the concept of leaving with his daughter despite knowing it was something he’d have to do to protect her. If he’d made that decision faster, would she still be alive now? Would he have been able to forgive himself for it after? It was hard to say. “She like you? Your friend.” They might not tell him if their friend was undead, for… obvious reasons. But the curiosity was there all the same. 

Metzli appreciated the way Emilio didn’t prod much. Hell, he didn’t prod at all. He asked surface level questions to receive simple answers. That was all he seemed to need in order to build on a picture he had already premade before he even truly took the time to get to know Metzli. It was fair, they knew that. Both were monsters in each respective story, and all it took was a little expansion on one’s mind to see more than one perspective. Now that Metzli had freedom, they did just that. Honey would badger them for making friends with the sworn enemy, but the vampire couldn’t help it. 

There was so much to explore and if they could provide someone with a new view and teach them something new—something they had learned along the way, then Metzli was more than happy to risk death. “She is like me, but you will not know her name. As pleasant as you have been, I have no place giving away exactly what she is or her name.” Metzli sat down on the table bench and Fluffy returned at full speed, jumping into their lap. 

“¿Y tu? Why come here? No have to answer. Just have curiosity like you.”

It was fair enough. If Emilio knew any other slayers in town, he wouldn’t go giving their names to vampires, either. Even people like Andy, who were hunters focused in a different area than what Metzli might be interested in, wouldn’t see their identities exposed by Emilio. Despite whatever apprehension he might have towards them thanks to his experience and his assumptions on what they might think of him now, Emilio felt a level of camaraderie with hunters that he doubted would ever fully go away. It was how he was raised. Things might be a little different for Metzli — they hadn’t been raised undead, after all — but he figured the bones of it were the same. 

It also wasn’t particularly surprising when they asked him the same question right back. Emilio hesitated, heart beating a little faster in his chest. It wasn’t a story he knew how to tell, even if it seemed unfair not to tell it. Metzli had been open with him, after all. But… That last day in Mexico flashed in front of his eyes briefly. The stench of blood in the air, the bodies in the street, the sinking feeling in his chest when he burst through the door to his home but hadn’t yet caught sight of Flora or Juliana…

Emilio shrugged, shaking his head to clear his vision. It didn’t do much, but at least it was something. “I had nowhere else to go,” he replied. “Heard about this town, heard there was a lot of… activity here. Wrongs to be righted, things that needed taking care of. Seemed as good a place as any.” 

The way sorrow made eyes go distant and cloudy was all too familiar. Something happened in Mexico, and knowing that Emilio was a slayer made the possibilities endless. But overall, at least in Metzli’s mind, they likely landed in the same category. Death. It was a common occurrence for both sides, neither immune to loss. In that, the two were equal. In that, Metzli had respect. In that, they wanted to offer some sort of friendship, or something as simple as a silent alliance.

“I understand. Had nothing after clan fall.” A dry chuckle tumbled out of Metzli’s throat and they shook their head, realizing how stupid they sounded. “Well unless there is something less than nothing. Master took everything.” Sighing, they rubbed at Fluffy’s ears as he sank into their lap with a tired grumble. Ah, it appeared Perro tuckered him out, which was just as well. Metzli wasn’t sure how much longer they could socialize, as short as the interaction was. “Yes, good place. Easy to blend and many option for my kind if they do not wish to hunt.” Which seemed silly, avoiding a good hunt, and they couldn’t help but be reminded of Sofie. “Maybe we both get new chance.”

Something less than nothing. It felt like that was what Emilio had, even now. To go from having what he had, from being a son and a brother and a husband and a father to this… It was difficult to describe what it felt like. It would have been difficult to describe what it felt like even if he weren’t as bad with words as he was, even if he was better at twisting his feelings into syllables and letting them leap off his tongue. But something less than nothing felt like the closest thing he’d found to the right words in a long time. 

“Not sure I deserve a new chance,” he admitted, looking down at Perro as he jumped up to put his paws on Emilio’s knees. What would a new chance look like for him? He wasn’t sure he knew. What was the difference between moving on and forgetting? He couldn’t replace the things he’d lost, couldn’t repair the broken pieces. He was just… this now. This uncertain, shattered thing. Something less than nothing. He sighed, stroking Perro absently. “What’s it look like for you? Your new chance. What do you want?” 

It seemed like the more the two talked, the more common ground they landed on. Moralizing love and chances, and debating worth. It was like they were both being forced to look in the most fucked up mirror in the world, and Metzli wasn’t sure that was necessarily a bad thing. “Is not about deserve. Look ‘round you.” They gestured to the rest of the park, and then to Perro. “You have it already. Chance is here. Start is here and you did not have to ask.” 

Brows creased together, Metzli nodding to themself as they continued to scratch Fluffy’s head. He rolled over onto his back, requesting his belly to be next. It made Metzli chuckle lightly before looking back at Emilio. “Is about if you keep going. I want to do that. Never got to. Even when human…” The vampire shook their head, sucking their teeth. “Era pura mierda. Parents were not…good.” They shrugged, taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Want to see where chance take me. If I die, then okay. If I live, then okay. Get to try now.” 

Slowly, fluffy began to doze off a little deeper, and Metzli realized they should probably get him home soon. Shifting in their seat, they locked eyes with Emilio, “No teach Perro today, but next time. He needed to meet me first to get comfort. Vale?”

Maybe they were right. People so rarely got what they deserved in life. Emilio had seen proof of it reflected a thousand times before. People who deserved to live died instead. And people who deserved to die got to keep walking around, got to go to dog parks, got to sit on benches. Maybe this was his second chance, the one he didn’t deserve and hadn’t asked for. It should have gone to someone else. He knew that. He’d trade it if he could, give it to Flora or to Rosa or to Juliana. To someone who’d make something of it. He wished it were an option. 

He thought of his own parents, of his mother’s harsh training and his father’s echoing absence. Of his uncle’s attempts and ultimate betrayal, or of the way he’d been taught that he was more of a weapon than a child. Could he relate to Metzli, to their clear anger towards their own parents? He’d never thought of his upbringing as something bad, but he’d felt sick at the thought of raising his daughter in the same way. Even still, it felt like a betrayal to call it wrong. He didn’t know if his mother had loved him, but she’d kept him alive. (And wasn’t that more than he’d done?) “Sorry,” he offered, a little belated as he pulled himself from his thoughts. “That they were no good.” It was something that bothered him, as a father. If he could still claim the word. “Hope it works out for you. The new chance.” Maybe one of them could make it worth something. Emilio wasn’t sure there was much of a shot of that being him.

It made sense, especially given the way their dog was dozing, that Metzli wouldn’t be able to teach Perro anything today. And they were right — it was better for the dog to get to know them first. Perro was a little iffy about new people sometimes, and though he’d always seemed to prefer people who weren’t quite human, Emilio hadn’t been sure how he’d react to a vampire given his experience with his previous owner. Luckily, he seemed to like Metzli all right. “Appreciate the clothes,” he said, tapping the side of the box. “Think I’ll give them a try.”