me & god we don't get along

"There's a cabin right there Em," Micah said as he pointed behind them, Flora was big on maintaining their we live in an enchanted forest aesthetic, but he smirked, knowing full well what the witch had meant. Bathhouse with the Beast could be fun; that had been a good time, that was almost two years ago now. "Crazy how time flies." Here they were, getting older every day. Nothing was slowing down for them; it was full steam ahead; immortality hadn't really sunk in yet, but in a decade or two, the fact that he wasn't changing was going to make that factor a bit more real. "If you wanted some braiding to decompress, all you had to do was ask." It's mostly a joke because he hasn't done anything like that since- well, not for a few months anyway.

Lips pursed in thought, Emory lays back on the dock, feet still dangling in the water but solid cedar under him. Briefly, he thinks back to that first meeting in Rome, seeing Micah at The Embassy. That man isn't at his side right now, the faiman with his eyes glassy, end of his nose the slightest bit red. He reaches out, his fingertips just brushing the his boyfriend's lower back. "What if instead of house hunting we shop hunt?" Micah had put that little seed of an idea in his head that one day and it'd slowly started to take root. "There's a few places downtown." Something that was theirs, something to look forward to.

"For just that?" While his tone is incredulous, he's thinking about all of the other things that Abel definitely doesn't know about. Abel had been the one to hire Micah, he'd put them in the same space for hours at a time without him! Surely he knew that on slow days that counter still got some use. "Just that?" Emory's brow raises and he didn't mean to say that out loud but they'd always turned the sign to closed, they were in the clear.

"Thought I'd a bit more disconcerted? Disheartened?" Her smile is more wry. "I definitely understand. But all things considered, I couldn't have asked for a better end to a chapter of mine... There's a lot I could have lost that I didn't." She patted down some soil. "Enough things go wrong in your life, you start to look at what went right and you focus on that. Perfectionism can drive someone insane." Her tone was pensive and her eyes were a bit faraway at the thought but she didn't elaborate. Her smile mended itself into something more light-hearted as she looked to Emory and passed him a hand shovel. "What about you? A lot has changed in your life, Emory... I don't have to be privy to all the details to know it's true."

He wants to tell her that he thinks he saw something like this coming for her at one point. There's such a warmth to the ex-sovereign but there'd always been this look in her eyes he recognized as that of someone who's seen too much, that's tired. Vivianne had her battles, she'd fought them, she'd come out the other side, she got to rest for a bit now, even though he doubted she really would. Instead he takes the shovel from her and starts making neat little pockets in the dirt and offers a soft, almost sarcastic chuckle. "Well my boyfriend's immortal and yours is an angel, we've kind of hit the jackpot, I think." The grin that forms across his lips is genuine though because that is fucking insane actually.

"It's one year for us." Micah thought it was worth pointing out, he hadn't planned anything big or extravagant or anything like that. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if Emory was even the type or if he wanted to keep things more subtle or nonchalant. "Did you want to do anything?" Just coming right out and asking seemed like the thing to do because while the two of them had had their fights, they had stayed together consistently throughout. Officially, committedly, and publically, and that alone was a record for them. "Like, you know, to celebrate or is Lubefest going to be enough?"

He takes a second, leans against the blonde's side as he looks off into the water and it's not really something he thinks about, grand romantic gestures. Probably because he'd never really seen them at home for any sort of milestone. His dad had brought home flowers a couple of times, his parents had gone out for anniversaries, that was the extent of it. Idly, Emory takes one of Micah's hands in his, tangles their fingers together as he tries to think on it. A whole year already, they'd come a long ways, they deserved to celebrate something. "We could get away for a bit, hole up in a cabin. Spend a day at the bath house maybe." He wondered how their one tentacled friend was doing, if maybe they'd be up for a round two. What said romance like double teaming someone with your significant other? "I could use the R&R."

@emorystarling location: Mojo Dojo Casa De Flora and Micah's Cabin in Lupercal notes: I'm going to end up making this sad but you love me

Magic was a nuisance, but it looked cool. Bishop had heard these exact words dozens of times over. Demons. Spirits. Few words and they were broken down from their core and sent burning into wherever the fuck they needed to get sent back to. Bishop stood back, arms folded, and watched Emory at work. He didn't think he'd actually go through with it; maybe the darkfriend was wrong about him.

He hates it. He hates how much part of him loves the praise, feels almost comforted by it. There'd been a time he'd been chasing after it from his family, it'd been the ultimate goal. And when it became apparent his father was holding something like that over his head, it'd made him sick to hear any of his brothers get a compliment from the patriarch of the family. Emory is older now, the praise of the Hart family means little to him and he thinks that if he drinks and throws up it just looks like he's a lightweight. He can deal with that. "Yeah, sounds good." The smile he offers Bishop is genuine despite all of the conflicting feelings because it's not like he doesn't like the guy at his core. Hell, Emory had found over the years he actually liked his brothers more than he thought he did, not just the youngest. They'd all been so misguided for so long, he hoped he hadn't been the only one to find his way back to reality. But he sees how Bishop reacts to the corpse, more intrigue and excitement than remorse and he's not so sure.

"My services are free for those who seek them," Isabella drawls back, a brow raising as if to challenge him on his beliefs. She doesn't mind the misunderstanding, well aware of the image vampires have made for themselves as reckless and greedy, but it is altogether too amusing for a barb to be thrown her way in this occasion. "I already have far too much money on my hands, all of my current work is done out of a desire to help." She offers a simple explanation, followed by another brief shrug. "It's not, but someone needs to hold the burden, and I am rather adept at that."

Emory's brow raises in slight surprise but he doesn't feel sheepish about the faux pas. Vampire's were creatures he sort of thought a little greedy by nature, always had all that old money shoved somewhere. He realizes as she keeps talking that it all kind of makes sense now, her. She'd given him her blood without too much of an explanation, had just accepted it and it was still there, tucked safe in case he needed it. "Can I ask what life was like for you before all this." He offers a wave to the rest of the bar, all the supernatural noise that was always permeating the city.

"It'll be spring soon enough, I thought I'd help get the buds ready and weed a little," Vivianne replied, smiling lightly as she looked up from the indent that she'd made in the soil to take the roots out of a dead plant. "Emory." She spoke her name like an affectionate greeting. "Look at you... you look well." She wondered what had happened to his friend and then how he'd felt about the coven's growth and changes. However, she let the young witch guide them.

"Yeah, that's the trick." Eat well, work out, show up for work, look like he had everything together. It'd been something he'd been so used to for years. Appearances had meant everything in the smaller part of Aurora, to the locals anyways. Nobody could ever be allowed to ask questions, he was always 'doing just fine'. But Emory doesn't dwell on it, his own inside joke and instead he wants to focus on her, he wants to know how she's doing, if she's alright. "You do, too though. Not like I expected anything else, but I just thought...." Pausing in pulling a couple of weeds, broad shoulders raise in a shrug. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Duct tape kept the incubus from making too much racket, another iron stake went through the demon's other shoulder as it was firmly planted against the ground. Bishop took a few steps back as he pulled the engraved knuckles off his hands and slid them back into his pocket. Indentations marked the demon's battered, brutalized form, but Bishop wouldn't be fully satisfied until the thing was dead.