#take on thee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muertarte · 1 year ago

Text

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @disengagedspirit @muertarte

SUMMARY: Mercy experiences her first slayer, and Metzli is around in time to help.

WARNINGS: None

Anytime Mercy could get out of the town and into nature was a relief. The sound of cars flying by and constant chatter of people around town seemed to be enough to drive anyone with a long history of silence mad. So when Mercy had pulled up directions via Magistra Google on how to get to Wicked’s Rest State Park, she gladly followed them out of the house and down the street despite the fact that it was night outside. Though she had greatly missed spending time in the sunshine and hadn’t quite figured that one out yet without being heavily cloaked by clothing that weighed her down uncomfortably.

As Magistra Google told her which way to turn, she had found herself walking down an empty sidewalk that was hardly a place to be desired. There weren’t any cars around, and though it was quieter than before, she could hear the sounds of chaos off in the distance. Did this mean she was getting closer to her destination? She wanted to believe so with all of her heart, but according to her phone, there was still quite a ways to go. But there was something else that felt off. It was as if eyes had been following her for quite some time, and though she had chosen to try and push past the discomfort, she was starting to question whether or not she should return.

Looking up to the stars with a sad sigh, Mercy had opted for the latter. Maybe Caleb could take her via his metal carriage, but tonight was no longer starting to feel safe, and as she put her phone into her pocket and began to turn around, she had been met with someone much larger than her. Someone with a nefarious look in their eyes and their fists clenched and ready for a fight.

—

Metzli wiped the sticky blood from their face, licking at the remnants staining their fingers. The kill wasn’t too messy, considering that their meal had been a lowly raccoon. An animal so small was not nearly enough to keep the vampire sated, but seeing as their hunger pangs began at the end of the work day, Metzli thought it best to have some sort of snack before venturing into town for a few evening errands.

“Hm…” Humming to themself, they mulled over the idea of taking the carcass with them. Surely eyes would be locked on them, and even if Metzli rarely met anyone’s gaze, they felt it might be possible for a concerned citizen to call authorities on them. “Hm…” They hummed again, retrieving their handkerchief from their jacket and wiping the rest of the blood away before grabbing the raccoon by its scruff and walking out of the treeline. Metzli looked left and right, and left again, pleased to find that no one was around.

With a small smile, they sighed contentedly as they cut through an alleyway to get back to their car. They had only just spotted their black sedan when they saw what looked to be a couple getting intimate in the cover of darkness. Strange, really, but Metzli stared a bit longer with a curious tilt of their head, wondering how anyone could be so openly affectionate. Leila always held their hand and kissed them while out and about, but that was hardly—oh. Oh. Metzli was wrong. Cocking an arm back was not affection, and the scream the woman let out was most definitely distress.

“Hey!” They exclaimed, sprinting forward and throwing the dead raccoon at the back of the assailant’s head while closing the distance. It felt wrong to do so, but Metzli had little to work with. “Run!” They instructed the woman, watching as the raccoon fell to the ground and rolled only once before it landed on its side. “Run now!” The man stumbled, shaking away the ambush as he turned around just in time to see a fist meet his face. It caused minimal damage, somehow. Metzli grumbled and reached for their knife, grabbing ahold of its hilt, but only for a moment. A body collided with theirs with great force, sending the two rolling and fighting for dominance. Much to Metzli’s dismay, they were overpowered, and it was their turn for their face to meet a fist.

As she watched as the man drew his hand back ready to strike her down, the centuries old vampire cowered, until she heard the loud exclamation in the distance. Looking over, Mercy noticed as someone had come barreling towards them, and on the instruction to run, the small woman found herself stumbling backwards out of the way as she watched the two people rumble. But when she noticed the large man once again getting the upper hand, Mercy knew she couldn’t run.

She wasn’t just going to take off and leave a complete stranger, one who had saved her, fend for themself, and without much hesitation, she found herself launching onto his back like a wild boar attacking a man mounted on a horse; fearless and ready for a fight. But it was the feral side that had managed to get the better of her, and without the strength to control it, Mercy sank her teeth into his shoulder and bared down ripping out a chunk and spitting it on the ground.

With red eyes, blood smeared across her pale face, and teeth bared, she let her crimson hues drift down to meet with the person laying underneath the man. It was a look of ravenous hunger and need to dominate, until suddenly a burning took over her entire face and mouth. Dropping down from the man’s back, Mercy stumbled backwards and began to frantically try and wipe the remaining blood off of her face all while trying to spit out the rank liquid. It had been her first taste of hunter blood and definitely her last.

Metzli’s eyes widened with surprise, watching as blood spilled from the hunter’s back. “No!” They exclaimed, worried at how bad the burn would be. It seemed to hit her almost instantly, and despite how Metzli wished she wasn’t hurt, her ignorance gave them both the edge they needed. The slayer screamed and staggered just a breath away as his blood ran down and painted their face, allowing Metzli to ram their foot into his stomach. He flew away with a wheeze, landing on his back with another hitch of his breath.

There was a slight burn to their skin, the wind causing it to heighten and spread like a real fire. It was followed by a rush within them, as if to ignite a ferocious blaze in Metzli. “Take this,” They offered the woman a handkerchief to help with the blood, taking advantage of the moment of reprieve. What else would the hunter do anyway while he was struggling to breathe?

Red eyes trailed away from the woman’s, landing on the slayer. Their pupils dilated at the sight. He was helpless and unable to do more than gasp like a fish out of water, and Metzli was the bear ready to play with its food. That was the instinct, at least. But a more humane nature muddied that sensation, softening their disposition. They wanted to be better, so they would be. “I will not kill you if you leave. Please lea—mrph!” A knife plunged into Metzli’s calf, and they lurched forward from the sudden pain.

The force of it nearly ended everything, but they managed to throw themself to the right to avoid the stake the slayer had readied in anticipation of their reaction. “Leave!” It sounded like a plea, but it went unheard as the hunter rose from the ground. Metzli scooted away, removing the blade from their calf and swiftly throwing it toward the hunter’s chest. He moved just enough to avoid a fatal blow, but still fell back as it landed deeply into his shoulder. They used the interruption to run back toward the fellow undead woman, picking her up and urging her to run with them. Away from the danger. It was the only option left if they wanted to avoid more death on their hands.

Mercy stumbled around in pain, finally laying eyes on the handkerchief being offered. Taking it without any reservation, she began to feverishly wipe at her mouth trying to ease the pain. Anything at this point had to be better than the way this felt on her face. And as she tugged the cloth down her skin, she couldn’t help, but let her eyes follow the direction of the scuffle happening between…another person like her and the brutish man that was at least getting his arse handed to him.

However, it didn’t last long. And as soon as Mercy laid eyes on the man digging a knife into the other vampire, she immediately felt regret for the actions she had caused. She would apologize in depth when they were both safe, but until then the welcome arms at her side, sent Mercy scurrying forward with the handkerchief still in her grip.

It was as if safety was just over the horizon, and Mercy ran as fast as she could with the other vampire without any hesitation, until they had finally found a place to stop with the brute out of sight, “Art thou okay? Doth thee need help?” She looked towards the other vampire with concern in her eyes that were starting to fade back into their natural bright blue.

The slayer didn’t want to let go of his would-be victims, and with each step the vampires took to escape, Metzli could hear him struggling to keep up. An arrow or two flew past the duo, but they didn’t look back, although the urge was there. They kept their focus on their getaway, maneuvering around the alleyways they had grown to know so well. They only wished they could be traversing up on the rooftops.

Utilizing the high ground was always the best strategy, and it was the way Metzli was taught. Having lived in a place like Mexico, where most roofs were flat, it was just the way they traveled for maximum discretion, and they had kept that habit into the states. It was just unfortunate that most others didn’t share that particular skillset, especially when it would have taken far less running for an escape.

“You are using strange words.” Metzli’s brows scrunched together as they attempted to decipher the words spoken as they kept watch around the corner. “Help? I do not need help. Art does not need help either.” What did art have to do with that situation? Was it that obvious that they owned a gallery? Or did this vampire somehow read minds like that one strange vampire in those movies about an eclipse? Or was it a dawn? They couldn’t be bothered to remember, not when they leaned back into the wall to find that there was something sticking out of it.

“Oh.”

Mercy couldn’t understand what the other vampire was rambling on about when it came to art, but when they mentioned not needing help, it gave her some relief. The 21st century was tricky to navigate, and while she could fire back about how the other person was using strange words, she opted not to. It was the expression and the single word that left Mercy narrowing her eyes in confusion and concern.

“Why doth thee proclaim oh?” Mercy looked the vampire over curiously, until she made her way around the side and noticed the arrow sticking out of their back, “Thou hath been shot!” The 16th century vampire moved closer to examine the arrow sticking jutting outwards, “I must find thee shelter and someone to help!” Mercy wracked her brain, until she thought about Caleb. “Goodman Caleb! He can assist thee! He is wise in many ways!” And he was the only person she had really trusted, besides Allistair.

Again, their brows furrowed with confusion, and they shook their head. “What are you saying? I cannot understand you.” Their was an underlying tone of frustration in Metzli’s voice, and they had to take a breath to keep it from turning into anger. They didn’t like when they couldn’t understand things, and it was made worse by the fact that they couldn’t understand someone in need. But apparently her safety didn’t really matter to her at that moment.

“Yes. I have been shot.” A statement made lackluster with their bland tone and stoic face. While she blabbered on in her strange English, Metzli turned in circles, trying to reach the arrow on their own. They understood the words ‘shelter’ and ‘help’ at least, but they stopped their spinning to shake their head in disagreement. With a few more attempts to reach the arrow. “Do not need shelter. Just pull it out.”

Mercy growled in frustration of her own. Not at the person in front of her, but more so out of not being able to speak perfect 21st century modern English. When she got back to Caleb’s she was going to do so many green owl lessons that the stupid owl would be begging her to quit pestering him.

How could this vampire be so nonchalant about being shot with an arrow? Mercy couldn’t understand it, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the arrow out, which apparently she noticed the person trying to do as they spun around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. If it wasn’t such a serious situation, Mercy might have found humor in the action, “I am not a doctor, but if this is what thou requests of me..then so be it.”

Stepping forward, Mercy reluctantly put her hands on the shaft of the arrow, “Do not move.” Her voice was firm, but there was a slight tremble in her hands. However, the longer she waited, the more she was less inclined to do this, and with a deep breath, the vampire yanked as fast and as hard as she could, pulling the arrow from the person who had saved her life.

Metzli groaned as the bolt was ripped out of them, but no real exclamation escaped from their lungs. With a few grounding breaths, they stood fully and rolled their shoulders, winding their half arm over and over again to get the sensation the arrow left out of their nerves. “Thank you.” They hissed, “I think we are safe to leave for home if you are done burning.” Carefully, Metzli leaned forward, almost touching their nose to hers. There was hardly any blood left on her face, but her skin did look irritated.

Could’ve been worse, and it wasn’t deadly in any way, so Metzli didn’t bother checking on her further. “When I say home, I mean you go to your own home.” It felt important to clarify that. People too often misunderstood even when they were being blunt. “I will leave now. Thank you for taking out the arrow, whoever you are.” Metzli stiffened their posture and extended their arm toward the vampire, offering a handshake.

And just like that, the other vampire was good. Something Mercy was grateful for. She didn’t know what to do if the person who had saved her was worse off from the removal of the arrow. But Mercy still had a lot to learn about being part of the undead, “Wilcuma.” She bowed her head, before looking back up to the other person.

Mercy had forgotten about the burning of her face. All the excitement and rush from the escape and then yanking a bolt from the other vampire’s back had distracted her, and with good reason, “I hath forgotten of such a pain, but thankee for checking on my wellbeing.” Almost nose to nose with the other person, Mercy’s eyes grew wide, but there had been relief when they pulled away. Such odd customs for a new century.

“Aye. Caleb will be waiting for me. Travel safely.” She looked down at the vampire’s hand before clasping it and returning a good firm shake, “Mercy. My name is Mercy. And I shall call thee?” She wanted to know, so if they ever crossed paths again, she could greet them, and if not, at least, she would know of another friend that resided in Wicked’s Rest.

Their expression contorted slightly at the sensation of Mercy’s flesh meeting theirs. It was still odd to touch anyone they didn’t know well, but the custom felt necessary after they had helped one another. “Okay.” A curt nod, “I am Metzli. I own the gallery.” They quickly retracted their hand and pocketed it, wringing their fingers together to trade one sensation for a better one. It grounded them, as it always did, and they let out a sigh of relief.

“I am going to leave now.” Metzli looked to the sky and turned on their heel, tripping slightly on themself. They winced at how it jostled their shoulder, but they quickly coughed to cover it up before taking a few steps toward freedom. She probably didn’t notice. Probably.

“Goodbye, Mercy.”

And goodbye to the raccoon, too.

#wickedswriting #writings #bloody ink #c: mercy #mercy and metzli #take on thee

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