Seven Devils all around me

❛ I WASN'T AWARE THEY NEEDED REMINDING. ❜ their gaze flicks to her palm all the same, satisfied by the sight of unmarred skin. how could their strength be undermined when all in the clearing knew that they existed on blood meals, that centuries of survival could only be maintained at the cost of others? that their birth into this eternal night could only follow the death of all they had known, and, it seemed, all they had once been.

❛ i can value human life without forcing my own will onto it. to err is to be human. ❜ something they were not, and could never again be. in some ways, odette was right. ❛ i use my experience to help, but i’m hardly performing miracles. ❜ they concerned themselves with souls, with life. protecting its sacred balance. they saved the ones who could be saved, but did not perform heroics to do so. their venom had never once bound them to another soul.

then she’s drawing closer, her laugh ricocheting off the walls of their carefully maintained composure. there is little use in hiding behind half answers, not with her. ❛ is that so wrong? ❜ not all of it. the penance, perhaps. the suffering. they have never pretended otherwise. her grip tightens around their shirt, and they cannot deny the light that shines in her eyes.

it’s as they have always known: their life had been rendered forfeit, volunteered with willing flesh and open arms that night in the woods. as the lightning seared their flesh, only a scar remained where their life had been. leaving behind a soul too damaged to mend. one that had to claw and gnash its teeth against every instinct to avoid becoming a monster altogether.

simply because they did not cow to the hunger did not mean that its siren song ceased to exist.

so, they would protect others from ending as they had. penance to save countless lives was a small price to pay for an eternity. if their purpose meant a never-ending cycle of extinguishing ferals and saving humans, so be it.

rylan still does not flinch away when odette’s hand finds her cheek. instead, they hold her stare. ❛ i have always had a penchant for pain. ❜ in life, as in death.

"perhaps you haven't been spending enough time with them." she muttered, irritation clear in her voice. odette ran a hand through her hair, a motion that had always come out in moments of distresses, frustration. "i suspect it wasn't until i stopped alistair with my bare hands, they forgot how much of a threat we are. with their prying questions and judgemental thoughts." she thought of matteo's anger, of lettie's curiosity. had they forgotten that odette and rylan had been alive for centuries and could kill them all with nothing more then a thought?

a scoff left her lips as she reached for the cigarette once more, steal it from rylan without considering just how domestic they may seem to the unaware. "if that boy died then so would our connection to that entity. the longer it talks through him the more opportunity we have for it to give us information. it is bold and bored. eventually it will slip up, but not if we are unable to communicate with it." she shrugged as she inhaled. "alistair can kill whoever he wants," she exhaled, "but not when that person may have information that will help us kill it. i thought you would've felt the same."

she see's the way rylan's eyes light up, and odette's grip on their shit tightens. if she could step forward she would, but they was no more space that allowed it. "wrong? no, it isn't wrong. it just means you're urges are still there. perhaps even stronger then when we were last together." the cigarette is nearly filter at this point, so she puts it out on the edge of the ambulance. "oh how desperately i wish to see give into them."

for a moment a visual of their life together flashed in her eyes.

blood dripping from rylan's lips as odette's cruel laughter filled the air. excitement and hunger and desire coursing through her veins. her love looking at her as if she hung the moon herself. and then they're suddenly in each other's arms. mouths pressed together in passion as the taste of iron coats their lips, fueling the hunger that was felt.

odette snaps out of it. although even she cannot stop herself from whatever emotions she is emitting. loss. love. hunger. sadness. happiness. desire.

she used to feel them all whenever they were together. and in this moment she realized just how long it had been since she had felt anything.

"as do i." she murmured. and perhaps that's why she does it. why she leans in without thinking of anything else. pressing her lips to theirs in a kiss that feels as though centuries have not passed since the last. longing and hatred. desperation and yearn. it made sense, that she would bare herself to them. because the pain of losing rylan is worth it as long as she can have them again.

alistair may insist that he would've offered up a vein if she so much as asked after the meeting at maroon peak, but she wasn't certain that was the case. she had seen him that night. after everyone dispersed. he was in a different mood. darker then she was used to, if that was even possible. she doubted her hunger was going to be at the forefront of his mind. not after the way 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗 toyed with all of them. but mostly him.

"then next time i will ask." she muttered, watching as a family walked past them with no care for where they were going or what they might possibly be doing.

she watched as he comfortably leaned up against the wall she had guided them to, and licked her lips as he began to unbutton his shirt. a few more days and she would've begun to look as hungry as she felt. hair losing it's shine. eye bags that were far too deep. "it sounds as though your body is ready for a nights rest. those shelter dogs will have to wait another day."

his playful remark as he angled his neck towards her fell on deaf ears. right now odette could not register much else, aside from the constant drumming of his blood beneath the skin of his neck. a hand reached out to grasp the base of his neck, emotions radiating off her body and connecting with his own. pleasure. satisfaction. tranquility. anything that would convince him to allow her to do this again, and again. although, at this point, she was certain he needed this just as much as she did.

HE KEEPS PACE WITH HER, undeterred by the fact that she would not slow down. it’s true, that in any other circumstance he would not be the one to first approach odette. but the reality of the descent the group needed to make drew nearer, and whatever distrust he had of her needed to be set aside. he had watched her stop alistair in his path, and for now that would have to be enough for him. “nervous?” he repeats. “i think it’s less about nerves and more about… well, that we don’t know you that well.” a more diplomatic take, maybe, but it’s true — at least for him.  xingyu knows magnolia creek and its people better than any other place. or maybe he knows nothing else but this: miss alice who still runs the cotton candy stand and asks how his parents are doing; the same creaky ferris wheel that’s rolled out every year; this town and its heels dug in the dirt, trying to stay alive amidst its grief. and now, in the past month of newcomers and ghosts rematerializing, it’s like he’s been losing his grip on what he knows. he needs to reorient himself. her annoyed look did not seem like an invitation for further conversation. but he continues. “you were there on maroon peak, too,” he says stating the obvious. eyes shift away, towards the crowd ahead of them, towards the memory. “and… i’m just trying to understand. understand you. and what happened.”

"have you considered that is intentional?" while it was a question, it was delivered more as a statement. a matter of fact. these children needed to realize odette was not here to make friends. they did not need to know every decision she had made in her four centuries on this earth, nor did they get to judge them. "we have a common goal. a common enemy. and that means we are to work together. and if that is the case, any uncertainty should be left at the door."

the question regarding the night at maroon peak was frustrating. what did he need her to do? spell it out? was he too shaken by the actions of the rest of the group, the actions of 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗, that he could not comprehend what had actually happened?

the dirt catches matteo across the cheek and mouth. grit grinds between his teeth when his jaw locks, one hand lifting too late to stop what is already slipping beneath his collar. for a beat, he only stands there with the shovel planted crooked in the earth, staring at alistair through pupils gone wider than the dark deserves. accident. matteo has known alistair too long to believe in those. his tongue drags slowly over the dirt caught against his molars before he spits into the grass beside the grave. he jerks the shovel free, turns it sideways, and drives the wooden shaft into alistair’s hip. hard enough to knock him half a step off balance and crowd him out of the strip of grave they had somehow both decided belonged to matteo. “watch it.” the warning lands flat, made less convincing by the dirt smeared across his mouth and the childishness of the retaliation.

he’s in safe hands. the words drag another memory behind them. one that doesn’t belong to him. blood shining wet at odette’s mouth. teeth buried where a pulse fought beneath somebody’s skin. matteo had only caught the memory in fragments through the ash, but that was enough. safe hands. his gaze catches on odette’s fingers where they rest cleanly against the gravestone. the same fingers that had curled around flesh in the memory. the same hands alistair was apparently willing to place his life inside. “real safe,” matteo mutters, dragging the heel of his palm across his mouth. dirt smears darkly along his cheek. “until she gets hungry.”

instead of his entertainment growing at the way matteo stares him down following the dirt, jaw locked and shovel planted, alistair’s suspicions become more solid. without direct light to his eyes alistair couldn’t be certain, but matteo’s pupils were far too wide even for the dark. “what’s up with—” he grunts, words cut off by matteo driving the shaft of his shovel into his hip and knocking him a half-step off balance. digging his shovel into the dirt again, alistair throws more dirt behind him, this time not coating matteo in any. “you’ll have to hit me harder than that if you want me to believe you mean it.” the warning only serves to make alistair want to do it again. while he doesn’t catch what odette says to matteo, only her correction on what is polite and how she will make an exception for him, he does catch the tail end of what matteo mutters in response, but only barely. until she gets hungry.

the moment the words come out of matteo's mouth, odette can see the confusion cross alistair's face. she does her best not to respond. she does not want to give matteo any more reason to want her dead. hell, if he finds out she was feeding on alistair, she was certain the boy would try to kill her. and she did not want to have to explain to the other group why she had torn his heart out. they would never trust her then.

so instead of saying anything, odette produced a wave of calming energy, directly positioned towards alistair. hopefully it would be a silent enough response, a familiar feeling, to provide him with enough comfort in knowing that matteo was likely, all talk.

THEY LET HER TAKE THE CIGARETTE, much like their drink several weeks before. their gaze follows the ember as it brightens between her fingers, lips curving into the ghost of a smile. her reasoning is sound… to an extent. ❛ maybe so, ❜ they assent, turning their gaze back to the night sky. ❛ still, you put yourself in harms way to do so. there are easier ways to guarantee his safety. ❜ the moon hangs high in the inky sky, a waxing crescent. it casts only just enough light, and the hum of the streetlamp stutters every few minutes.

❛ you mistook restraint for indifference. we play a part in their challenge with the hunger, yes, but who are we to decide how the six approach it? it was alistair’s choice. ❜ they think of ferals with xingyu. as necessary of a task as it was, it was just as much a training exercise. xingyu was better equipped for the descent than if rylan had simply killed every feral for him. it was easy to strip humans of their autonomy, protect them from their choices. but then how would they grow?

rylan follows odette’s gesture to the rig, raising a brow.“ everyone assumes that. ❜ first alistair, now her. do they think so little of their principles? ❛ but no. ❜

growing tired of craning their neck to meet odette’s stare, they leap down, swiping back the cigarette. ❛ i remember. ❜ they don’t step away, inhaling deeply until the smoke scratches the back of their throat.

there was a time when they found the scent of the blood bags nearly unbearable. riding in the back between calls was an unending exercise in restraint. even setting up a fresh line would cause venom to pool in their mouth. the temptation has never gone away, a fresh ache awakes in their throat when car accident victims hemorrhage mere inches away. if they haven’t hunted recently, the thought to reach into the freshly packed cooler echoes about their mind.

she shrugged, watching rylan through the smoke that acted like screen between them. "it's the best way to remind these children just how strong we are." and she was not lying, it was a show of strength. a way to make sure they knew she could stop their weapons mid stride, and she would not wince as it sliced into her palm. she brought the palm in question up, to show rylan the smooth, unbothered skin there. "don't worry, i've healed."

the response had her curious, eyes sharpening as they passed over their ex lover, as though something was not adding up. "oh, but i thought you valued human life, now?" she motioned towards the ambulance, and the work clothes rylan was wearing. "is that not what this is all about? saving humans who cannot save themselves? is that not the position kaden is in?" or did humans only matter when they were an immediate reflection on rylan and their own morality?

their closeness rattled her slightly, but she did not move. she stayed rooted in place. and as the conversation moved towards blood, odette suddenly understood. she was looking at rylan with a knowing expression, the flicker of a smile on the edge of her lips.

"none of this is about humans." it was an amused laugh that rang out into the ambulance bay. a moment later, she stepped forward, until they were almost chest to chest. a finger came out to pressing into rylan's sternum as odette accused, "you're a masochist. you're not in this line of work to do better. to help people. you are here because you want the constant reminder of what you did, and to pride yourself on not making the choices you crave." at some point her hand came to grip their shirt. a part of her felt eager, like perhaps the rylan who had stood by her side for centuries was still there. those desires never went away. of that she was certain. "you see this as penance. suffering for your sins." the hand moved to press against their cheek, a desperate longing for something familiar. odette's voice dropped as she asked, "why don't you stop fighting who you are?"

"it seems you still have much to learn about me," odette chided, smirk on her face. yes, she loved to be in control of games. she liked to be the winner and ensure she came out on top... but there was something about the denial of control that she also enjoyed. the fight. it was like a sparring match. "but can i not join the game as a member of your team?" she wondered, knowing they could cause twice as much chaos together then alistair alone.

the mirrors before them were reflecting distored images back to them, and odette broke away from alistair to inspect her own reflection. once it was not visible, when mirrors were made of only silver. but glass did not bend to the same rules... how strange the looked in the mirrors. warped reflections. both themselves and yet something different. a perfect conclusion of how they now existed in the world. much changed from how they entreated it, and yet somehow very much the same.

"i do not like to be rejected." she said, turning back to him. after the meeting in the forest, odette had noticed the change in alistair. not deep, but enough to understand she would not be sought out like she was many other days. and she refused to push away the only constant source of food she had, so the blonde decided she'd allow him to come to her.

he would eventually desire the relief she could give him. of that she was certain.

and as he stood before her, playing around the request, she knew she had waited long enough. she could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the desperation that sat under the surface, to sleep without visions of the void.

walking back towards him, she reclaimed her original position and smiled. "darling, i thought you'd never ask." her fangs were brushing against her lips as she laughed, hunger brewing deep within. but they were still too visible. they would need to go deeper into the dark, into a corner where no human would spot them in the midst of all the fun. she began to walk them into the next room, hands clasped around his arm. no one will pull him away tonight. not his sister. not any member of the six. not rylan. at least, not until they both got what they needed.

there's an edge to odette's initial response, one that makes lettie wonder what the town has taken from her. in the six years since moving here, she's found that those who react with bitterness often have reason. still, just like the tides, magnolia creek can give just as much as it takes. lettie hums at the more thoughtful response, looking over at the other woman. "it's so dark out there that it gives you a great view of the stars," and the romantic in her can't help but picture what it might be like to bring someone treasured there. she sighs as she looks out at the water, the fog thick before them. "not that you can see them, or much of anything, lately."

well, that makes sense. odette has never worked in education, but she had watched the occupation develop over the last few centuries and she was under the impression they did not get paid well. "how sad. i cannot imagine such limitations." she had been alive long enough to acquire a bit of wealth, and in turn, a rather luxurious appetite for things. "and you just accept them? no attempt to better your situation?" it may be a rather bold question, but she did not care. she was not here to mince words and make friends.

odette is thankful that the girl does not push. what an admirable trait. to know when the other person wishes for you to stop talking. more people could benefit from reading a room in such a way. "i can see them." it was said with ease. after a second odette motioned towards where the north star was, even if all lettie saw was fog. "the north star is there." and then she named off a few other stars and constellations. "you're eye sight is far weaker then that of a vampire's." she cannot even remember what it was like to see the world through human eyes. "so you come here and see the stars when you can... is this what you do for fun?" what a pitiful existence, she thought.

The Rusty Nail had grown on Damon. Back at Berkeley, he’d been a regular to the town’s booming bar scene; at Washington State, he’d enjoyed getting to know his peers over a drink; here, though, the atmosphere felt wrong. The mirror reflected things that didn’t exist. All Magnolia Creek’s pent-up emotion ran beneath the floorboards. And despite himself, Damon sometimes felt worse after social interactions here. It was cursed, right?

Lily (and Alistair) worked here, though; and at some point after he’d learned that, the place had begun to feel normal somehow. Just a slightly-eccentric bar.

…A slightly-eccentric bar that served vampires.

Damon realized too late that he was sliding onto the barstool beside Odette Beaumont. Whether her aura had repelled people without some tie to the supernatural, Damon didn’t know. But… they were in the group together.

They could not be more dissimilar, and they were in the group together. Damon had to say something.

He imagined asking about her life… He imagined learning something unique… He imagined growing that tiniest bit closer to this woman, this dark silhouette of a being, this wild card. But nothing he could say would meet the high standard he’d already heard Odette upheld within her world. Nothing he did competed with centuries of vampirism and a frigid heart.

So he just said, “Remember me? Damon Graham?” Half-smiled. “What’re you drinking tonight—I could use a recommendation.”

as footsteps sounded after the open door of the rusty nail, and stopped at the stool next to her, odette did not move her body or look at the person who sat down next to her. her eyes watched him in the mirrored reflection behind the bar only for a moment, before turning her attention towards the cigarette in her hand and the ash that she flicked into the tray before them.

was he going to ignore her, like the rest of the people in this bar? no... if he planned to ignore her, he'd sit elsewhere. the rest of the patrons had learned to give her a wide birth when she was here, but not him.

the moment he spoke, she exhaled the smoke and turned just slightly to look at him. the therapist... she remembered now. "doctor graham, correct?" she asked, curious what he could possibly want with her. well, for only a moment, before realizing just how intriguing meeting a vampire might be to a human. one, who she suspected, may not have known about the supernatural world until recently.

the request for a recommendation was easy territory, nothing for her to be wary of. so she answered honestly. "an old fashioned." she motioned towards her drink, the orange peel inside of the brown liquor too old to allow for an enjoyable flavor. "but this place isn't well versed in the art of cocktails. i'd just look for what's on tap." she had never been one for beer, but it was cheap enough to not be a let down when you drank it.

by the third crypt, matteo has already decided which one would hold odette best: the one sunk deepest into the hill, its door wedged tight beneath the weight of the earth. cram  her  inside, ram  the  shovel  through  the  handles,  drag  something heavy across  the  entrance, and cinch  the  tow  chain  from his trunk around  the  whole  damn  thing. let  four  hundred  years  scratch  its  nails  bloody  trying  to  get  back  out. wonderful plan, if it weren't for alistair. matteo  can’t  tell  whether  pryde would  catch  his  wrist before the chain pulled tight or  offer  odette  his  hand  like  she  hadn’t  earned  the dark  matteo  put  her  in.  his  grip  tightens  until  a  splinter  bites.  then odette  looks  at  alistair, and he understands without a word. when  he  finally  looks  matteo’s  way,  the  grin  still  warm  from  odette  and  worn  thin  by  the  time  it  reaches  him,  like  she  got  the  meal  and  he  gets  the  grease  cooling  on  the  plate. the  closeness  cuts  through  the  pills  like  they  aren’t  there.  he  dry-swallowed  two  in  the  library  bathroom, calling  it  preparation.  now  his  mouth  tastes  like  aspirin,  his  feet  feel  half  a  mile  away,  and  they’re  doing  fuck-all  about  alistair.  this  isn’t  about  him.  that’s  the  point.  matteo  volunteered  before  anyone  could  remember  that  when  the  hunger  asked  for  his  old  friend,  something  inside  him  had  already  handed  him  back. odette  asks  if  alistair  trusts  her. matteo's  gaze snaps to  him, pupils  wide and glassy-black. no  means  he  hasn't  crawled  out  of  the  dirt  completely  stupid.  yes  explains  how  easily  they  stand  beside  each  other.  “he  does,”  matteo  answers for him.  he  catches odette in the face with  his  flashlight.  one  bright, irritating  second,  but  the  satisfaction  warms  him better than anything else tonight.  “always  been  too naïve for his own  good.” odette  walks  on.  alistair  follows.  matteo  comes  last,  shovel  across  one  shoulder,  watching  their  shadows  knot instead of where he's going. so when odette stops without  warning,  and  alistair  stops  with  her,  matteo  doesn't.  by  the  time  the  drugs  carry  the  message  down,  his  shoulder  clips  alistair’s  arm.  solid. familiar. matteo  jerks  away  like  he  touched  a  hot  engine  block,  gaze  dropping  before  either  can  study his  eyes. “course  it’s  this  one.”  the  shovel  lands  with  a  dull  clang.  “couldn’t  be  the  one  on  top  of  the  hill.  had  to  be  the  bastard  buried  under  half  the  damn  forest.”  the  first  shove  barely  skins  the  ground.  roots  knot  beneath  it,  thick  as  old  veins.  matteo  bears  down  until  they  tear with a wet rip, then  flings  the  clump  aside.  dirt  spatters  odette’s  shoes. “so  who  was  this?”  his  gaze  cuts  from  her  to  alistair.  “somebody  you  knew?”  the  shovel  goes  in  again. “or  we  trustin’  you  because  he  does?”

alistair had intended to enjoy the merry trio made in hell that he was a part of all night: poke, prod, joke, taunt. show off his closeness with odette to get under teo’s skin. irritate matteo for odette’s entertainment and his own desire for attention, even negative. create a game to keep his mind off of why they were here; why he was here more accurately. that’s what he intended, still does, but the thing with games and playing them is that you weren’t free from them as the creator; you were a player yourself, and like all players alistair was bound to feel the burn himself. matteo had answered for him and the answer he gave stung something sharp; annoyance peaking inside alistair at the words, “you don’t have to worry about carrying that burden anymore, matteo.”  a devil-may-care shrug follows, “i had the naïveté wrung out of me a long time ago.” an easy smile to his face, “i know exactly who i’m putting my trust into.”

odette could feel the disgust and hatred coming from matteo. it radiated off him, and her only responses to such emotions was a smirk. did it upset him to know that alistair may trust her more then him? oh she hoped so. hoped it caused a darkness to coil around him and squeeze.

"he's in safe hands." she teased, quiet enough that only matteo could hear as she pushed past him to take her spot above the grave. it was pleasing to see them do as she commanded. truthfully, she had expected matteo to toss the shovel at her and tell her to start digging herself. but perhaps he wasn't as confident as he wanted her to believe. not when she had his little secret hanging over his head.

the compliment from alistair had odette sending him a playful smile, "it's not polite to comment on a ladies age. but for you i'll make an exception." the look she gave matteo was to the point. don't utter a single sentence, or she might use that shovel of his to bisect him. unfortunately, she was proven moments later just how dull that shovel was. no matter how much effort they put into it, it was taking much too long to break the surface. if they kept it up like this, they would be out here all night, and she had a strict curfew.

with a sigh, odette leaned down, put both hands on the thick roots, and tugged until they gave way from the dirt. and to repay matteo for the earth he threw on her shoes, she made sure any amount that came up with the roots were directed towards him. "there, try again." and as she tossed the gnarled roots to the side, one would have assumed they weighted no more then five pounds.

PERCHED ON TOP OF THE AMBULANCE, one leg dangling over the edge and the other tucked beneath it, rylan fishes in their pocket for a lighter. the spark flickers to life, quickly setting alight the cigarette perched loosely between their lips. they relish the warmth of the smoke filling their lungs, scorching the impenetrable tissue in a way air never could, never would. it’s late, that much they’re aware of, though the exact time eludes them.

they haven’t been home for longer than an hour since that night at maroon peak, using their spare time to source supplies. weapons. enough to see them all through the gate and back — at least, most of them. 

their shift has only just finished, and much to their displeasure, their supplier has decided to keep regular business hours. ‘call back monday,’ his answering machine had chided. a black backpack sits beside them; a handful of switchblades and batons tucked inside. not good enough. 

odette had been curious about a number of things regardin rylan and this new life of theirs, but how they continued to exist and consume when they were so against taking from the source was the biggest question she wanted answers for. but as she found them seated at the back of an ambulance, cigarette in hand, the blonde realized how useful a job like this could be. "i care not for the team." she muttered, walking up to rylan to stand before them. odette's eyes ran along their pretty face for a second longer then was appropriate, before reaching out and plucking the cigarette that was between their lips.

what's yours is mine, she teased.

"if we let alistair kill that boy then any answers we may get will be lost with him. which is exactly what that entity wanted." she took a long drag, sighing as the smoke filled her decaying lungs. "imagine how surprised i was that you stayed away. do you not preach about the importance of mortals, and their innocence and safety?" she could not help the judgemental laugh tossed rylan's way.

she smiles at his words. she is uncertain if he is joking or not - doesn't know him well enough to understand his humor just yet - but if it was an attempt at a joke she finds it funny. "what if i told you i could help you sleep. just tonight." she crosses her arms over her chest as she allows him to consider such a thought. "it is a good offer. besides, who knows how long you can keep this up. who knows if you are making him stronger?"

she had wondered about this. by not sleeping for days at a time, was kaden at risk of entering some sort of psychosis? and if that were to happen, would the hunger have free reign over his body?

thankfully the boy before her was not withholding with his information, and odette took it all in greedily. "do you feel it? before it takes over? do you have any sort of warning before you are no longer in control?" with her bloodlust, she is always hunger. it sits there, in the back of her throat, desperate to be addressed. as though she could drink forever and never be sated. she should give him time to answer, but she's already wondering, "when it takes over, are you merely a passenger in your own body? or does it feel like you are simply falling asleep?"

as much as odette wanted to learn about 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗, and work on a way to defeat it and finally feel a sense of freedom after years of being it's slave, she was finding it deeply irritating to learn she could not go anywhere in magnolia creek without someone from their little scooby gang trying to talk to her. it was different if she spoke first. that meant she had intention, and a reason to engage in conversation with them. but when they watched her with wide eyes, uncertainty and distrust reflected at her, she was annoyed.

she was not here to convince these children that she was worth trusting. she was here to do a job. to finally put an end to 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗. nothing more.

she saw xingyu out of the corner of her eye as she walked through the festival grounds. she did not anticipate him coming up to her. her annoyance is evident. "enjoying is not the word i would choose." she told him, not bothering to slow her gait to allow him to keep up with her. "but it has been rather dull around here the last few weeks. i figured this would be the best form of entertainment." she allowed her gaze to find him then, suspicion evident. "what do you want? most of your friends still seem nervous to approach me."