o god,

curiosity  killed  the  cat,  and  talya  is  evidently  hellbent  on  finding  out  what  kills  the  vampire.   she  is  fixated  on  the  man  in  front  of  her;   the  town’s  gravedigger,   from  what  she  had  gathered.   a  gatekeeper  of  the  dead  in  his  own  right;   a  button  to  be  pushed  in  her  own  intrigue.   “tell  me,”   well  versed  in  moving  through  the  shadows,   she’s  invaded  his  space  in  moments.   “what’s  it  like  to  know  that  part  of  the  cemetery  is  empty  now?”

The one in front of him is curious, she says—as if he believed any of it for a second. Jaw tightening, he forces his voice to be level when he spits out, “No thanks.” His lip curls. While he doesn’t appreciate how close they’ve gotten, he stays still, gaze fixed on her. “I don’t think you’d get it.”

the  situation  has  gotten  so  bad  that  nikolai  is  considering  reading  some  nonfiction.     can't  tell  if  it's  personal  paranoia  convincing  him  that  so  many  people  are  acting  off,  or  if  it's  genuinely  true.  maybe  that's  why  he  drags  his  feet  here,  seeking  something  that  feels  normal.  perhaps  he  comes  for  confirmation,  too.  if  elijah  is  being  strange,  then  it  can't  be  his  imagination.  he  makes  a  pillar  of  the  older  and  prays  it  stands  strong.  there's  a  pack  of  cigarettes  weighing  heavy  in  his  pocket  that  he  doesn't  take  out  until  he's  standing  right  before  elijah.  no  greeting.  just  an  offering.  “  do  you  really  have  to  be  out  here  if  there's  no  graves  to  dig  today  ?  ”

“You’ve got no graves to dig either and you’re here.” Through puffs of smoke, Elijah studies Nikolai, frowning. How uncanny; just a few months ago he was dead to be buried, and now he’s alive at the very same place… Talking to him. “God knows what made you come. No cars to fix?”

“mind if i join you?”

Maze barks at Ian, noticing and welcoming his presence before Elijah does. He pats her head to calm her down, staring at the other man.  “She already agreed, so,” he shrugs, nodding towards the empty space beside him. “Feel free.” It’s barely out of pity, though he recognises the forlornness in Ian to be familiar. As if it’s his own. A beat of silence passes. Giving Ian a cursory once-over, he simply asks, “…Husband?” 

“  grave  digger.  ”    was  it  polite  to  refer  to  someone  as  their  occupation  ?  not  that  silas  cared  about  being  polite,  with  the  way  they  stop  in  front  of  elijah,  cutting  him  off  from  wherever  he  was  going.  no  apology  is  offered.  “  you  look  suitably  morose  for  the  job.  ”  everyone  in  marrow  seemed  to  give  off  the  stench  of  misery.  it  might  have  been  the  grief,  but  fuck.  silas  was  starting  to  think  the  small  town  air  simply  brought  out  the  worst  in  everyone  around  them.  “  how  does  one  earn  such  an  occupation  in  this  tiny  place  ?  small  enough  that  people  could  dig  their  own  graves.  ”  and  dig  out  of  them,  apparently.

not a lot intimidated ayana, but elijah did. it was easy to be confident in the face of small town pleasantries, but elijah seemed to care even less for them than she did, and she wasn't sure how else to manage an interaction without purposefully trying to subvert it. there was no hidden meaning to discover here, besides a thin veneer of politeness. it made her feel like a little kid in trouble with her teacher. "i can try to help," she offered, not sure what else to do. "i can get paper towels? wet ones? is that—" she looked down at his boots, squinting. "those can get wet, right? the material?"

startled by an unexpected guest,  aspen flinches and sends her phone to the floor with a totally heartbreaking clatter.  she winces as it slides to a stop,  sheepishly looking over to the person attached to the noise that startled her.  the shift in her demeanor is almost instant,  ❝  elijah!  ❞  there's a comforting familiarity that comes with his presence:  like she's a child pestering the new guy in town again,  rather than an adult facing the weight of a thousand stares.   ❝  god,  it's so good to see someone normal.  you're not gonna act like i've done something to forsake all of marrow too,  are you?  ❞  a pause as she considers her options.  ❝  i mean…  have you heard anyone talking about me? you'd tell me if they were, right?  ❞

“I don’t participate in idle talk.” Would Elijah say he was on the receiving end of gossip at times? Sure, but it does not bode well for him to spread it around. Least of all, if it was disparaging anyone in particular. His gaze flickers to her face, lips flattening. He slowly considers it. “…if I told you, what would you do to them?”

“You can only eat so much before it turns into gluttony,” he says, deadpan. Elijah fixes Gabriel with a stare, arching a brow. “And you’ve come into church to indulge in a cigarette?”

an   internal   investigation   is   in   order.   after   worming   her   way   into   a   third   table   and   having   everyone   fall   silent   for   a   third   time,   aspen's   had   enough.   she's   retreated   to   a   quiet   part   of   the   church   house,   nose   buried   in   her   phone.   ❝   i   mean,   realistically—   ❞   hums   of   her   inner   monologue   escape   into   a   room   she   thought   to   be   empty,   ❝   what   could   i   have   done?   ❞

ayana hated being on edge, but at least it was for a familiar reason, this time; her mom wouldn't stop piling her plate with food. she was always so worried to offend by accidentally skipping over someone's pride and joy and ayana loved her too much to not humor her. unfortunately, that meant her plate was overflowing before she'd been able to get away, and that turned literal at the worst moment, mashed potatoes slopping off of her plate and onto someone's shoes. "fuck," she said, then quickly realized that was another mistake, hurrying to correct with, "no, i mean—sorry. i mean sorry. i'm so sorry."

His eyebrows furrow as the food spills onto his boots, stiffening slightly. It happens way too fast for him to process, looking down at his feet and then back to Ayana silently. She spews her apologies and Elijah can only hold back what would’ve been a beleaguered sigh. He has enough self-awareness to know what the scene looks like: a sullen, broody man towering over a super apologetic girl younger than him. Enough grace to understand that she’s probably on edge. A beat passes. “It’s fine,” he manages out, even though his face barely softens, “It’ll wash out.”

a  short  puff  of  a  sigh  from  casper's  lips  as  he  unceremoniously  lowers  his  body  onto  the  concrete  curb.  there's  a  lingering  throb  concentrated  behind  both  temples.  an  ongoing  ache  he  can't  subside  with  ibuprofen,  caffeine,  calories  or  sleep.  the  past  few  weeks  have  melded  into  a  blur  of  time  and  space,  the  ability  to  recount  his  exact  whereabouts  only a  haze.  however, the  feeling  all  together  different  than  the  swirl  of  his  brain  after  days  of  sleepless  nights  coding  through  a  particular  tough  work  sprint.  was  he  getting  sick  ?  there  was  no  time  for  that  in  his  schedule. "  oh  sorry  ...  am  i  in  your  way  ?  "  eyes  fixating  on  the  figure  approaching,  "  i  thought  i'd  be  out  of  the  way  here.  "

Away from the crowd, Elijah fishes a carton of cigarettes out of his jacket. He brings one to his lips and lights it, his back facing the potluck as it’s still happening. Marrow’s a fucking mess, he thinks, with all that’s happening. He’s only snapped out of his thoughts by an unexpected apology. “It’s barely a private spot,” he shrugs, as if part of the reason why he chose to be out here wasn’t the fact that it had been far enough from other company. There’s a small gap between them as he takes a seat on the curb. He takes a drag of his cigarette, then pauses. Glancing sideways at Casper with a delayed realisation, face only half-apologetic. “D’you mind?”

THE ROOKIE | 7.07 • The Mickey

damson idris via instagram