Near Death

[ Tom Sturridge, male, he/him ] whatever you think you know about FORREST TURNER, the 32 year old, DEMISEXUAL, NEW COMER, it is likely time for you to start reconsidering. the rumored HELLHOUND is often described as SELF-ASSURED + PERSONABLE, but don’t let them fool you; they can also be MELODRAMATIC + HEADSTRONG, which often has them regarded as the WAYWARD. they are a EMT at NEW HOPE HEALTH CENTER, but it’s also said they are a N/A within the N/A. whatever you hear, you can’t deny there’s more to them that meets the eye, and it’s time we start uncovering the truth. 

(tw for dead animals - specifically roadkill and taxidermy, near death experiences, and vague descriptions of major injury)

The soft thuds of his footfalls crunched twigs and dried leaves underfoot as Kaden jogged along the trail. He knew the forest wasn’t the most welcoming place these days, but it still had some of the better trails for jogging - and so he tried to keep his route on the trails closest to the city itself. The last thing he needed or wanted to deal with was his mother’s psycho-ex-alpha’s pack thinking the Peaks Pack was encroaching on their land or something.

As he ran, the young teen took in the brisk air of the chilly afternoon - lightly questioning whether he should have chosen to jog in something warmer than a tank top and shorts. He hadn’t wanted to work up a sweat in something that he’d feel overheated in, after all. ( @risingpeaksreblogs​ )

-

Forrest liked the woods. They were dangerous, yes, but so was he. Or - more aptly - so was Salvatore. Still, he didn’t fear much the town could offer and it seemed the only place he could really seem to think was wandering aimlessly through the thick foliage and trying not to let the hellhound’s voice in the back of his head overpower his own. 

Apparently, he’d crossed through the woods onto one of the trails in the knick of time to catch a stray runner, nearly bumping into him as he ran. Sidestepping out of the way, the man frowned, cursing under his breath. It wasn’t necessarily odd to see other people in the woods, but it still wasn’t something Forrest wanted to come across. The boy’s mere presence apparently tugged at the threads of annoyance and frustration that’d made a home in his brain since Halloween. Nothing fit together right anymore, he felt like he was going insane all over again. 

Open starter @risingpeaksreblogs​

Destiny was having more and more trouble sleeping, her nightmares getting more frequent, more confusing, and the headache she seemed to have from time to time was getting worse as well. She’d gotten maybe an hours sleep that night, the rest of the night trying to search on the internet for pictures of the sword that was once again hidden in her closet, but nothing was matching up. 

Lost in her own thoughts, she almost walked out into the road as a car came along, falling on her ass as she was pulled back just in time, her coffee falling to the floor as quickly as she did, and splashing the person that helped her.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry, my bad. Let me pay for dry cleaning or… I can just buy you a coffee to say sorry?”

-

“No, no. That’s alright, Destiny. You’re alright. I would be quite the monster to make a woman who nearly met death pay to have my coat cleaned,” He reassured, helping her to her feet and ignoring the pain that came along with the scalding coffee against his skin. Forrest knew it would fade fast, he was resilient nowadays, especially in the face of heat. His coat was already worse for wear after Salvatore’s stunt with Razor a few days prior so he considered Destiny’s accident a sign that perhaps it was finally time to invest in a new one. “You look exhausted. If you’d like to make it up to me, you’ll buy yourself a coffee and some breakfast and allow me to sit with you while you find your bearings?” 

He had been hit by a car not long before - it had been the catalyst to his life falling apart, the very moment that he had apparently made a deal with Salvatore in exchange for his life. Thinking about it all was enough to have him clenching his jaw, the hellhound shaking his head to clear it before returning his attention to Destiny where it belonged. 

"Sugar and broccoli. I was often left alone as a child and my mother never kept sweets in the house. She did have sugar for her coffee and vegetables in the refrigerator, however. It did not make for a suitable replacement."

NOVEMBER: Favorite time of the year?

"I like the Fall. The weather is nicest then."

FEAST: One food you don't like sharing with others?

"I do not mind sharing most anything, though I do have a particular fondness for chocolates. I wouldn't want to share them if I didn't have to."

Apple Pie: Fondest childhood memory?

Autumn: What is your favorite thing about Fall?

Baste: Favorite scent?

Cranberry Sauce: What's the one thing you can't leave the house without?

Drumkstick: If you could go back in time and live in any time period you want, which period would you choose?

Feast: One food you don't like sharing with others?

Family: Who is the person you are closest to?

Gobble: Are you better at talking or listening?

Gravy: What kind of food can you not live without?

Ham: Funniest joke you've ever heard?

Harvest: Do you hoard anything? If so, what is it?

Corn on the Cob: Do you like a little mess in your life or do you prefer things to be neat and tidy?

Mashed Potatoes: What is something that always brings you comfort when you are sad?

November: Favorite time of the year?

Pumpkin Pie: What is one kind of dessert you could eat everyday and never get tired of it?

Rolls: Do you think you're a selfish person in any way?

Stuffing: Are you happy with your body image?

Sweet Potato Casserole: Weirdest food combination you've ever tried?

Squash: Your biggest disappointment?

Turkey: The stupidest thing you've ever done?

Keep reading

- 

Salvatore let their fires dim to nothing, tracing their finger over the gouges that Razor had left in their flesh with mild distaste and brushing themselves off as they continued in the direction of Forrest’s home. Their encounter with the wolf had been unexpected and unpleasant - surely the human they were bound to would also have many complaints, particularly about the state of the coat for which the hellhound could tell he had a considerable amount of fondness for. Regardless, they would likely put it out of their mind within a few days, unworried about the fallout of aggravating a creature they considered so impulsive and prideful. There were much bigger things to consider, much more important matters to attend to, so much more work to do before they were once again able to possess their full strength. 

Would their dismissal come back to haunt them? They couldn’t care less. 

“Yet another downside of sharing a body.” Not only was the hellhound forced to coexist with the vermin, they couldn’t retain full control or keep the body for as long as they pleased. One of the very few instances the nephilim was grateful for her angelic blood–once the human accepted the sacrifice, their soul ceased to exist, leaving the angel in full control. Of course, how they remained on Earth wasn’t Salvatore’s choice. Sadly, it was simply the nature of their existence, the Dark Lord doing what He could with the resources available. Maybe once Lucifer was back, He’d be able to reassess His creations and find a way to free the hellhounds from their human shackles…

She smirked. “If you are still up for it, I’d be happy to test out that little theory we discussed in Tuscany.” There was no guarantee it’d actually work, but she didn’t have a problem running the experiment multiple times. Leaving someone on the brink of death while simultaneously killing the current host so Salvatore could potentially change bodies at will sounded fun in her opinion. Salvatore’s next words made Zeldris frown, the nephilim rolling her eyes. “You should know by now I’m not fond of such sentimentalities. Or indecisiveness.”

What the hellhound called neutrality, the nephilim saw as cowardice. There was no place for impartiality in their war, no way there could be fairness or lack of prejudice. They were punished, exiled, tortured and killed for not agreeing with the Creator. For simply wanting to exist. Zeldris chuckled bitterly. “And what ‘balance’ is that?” Blue eyes focused on the hellhound, her head tilting slightly. “The number of supernaturals around the world continues to decrease, angels and humans playing a major role in those losses. One species retains power, oppressing and unjust, while all the others fight each other for scraps in the shadows.” Her expression grew more serious, the flame of anger igniting in her eyes. “Our Dark Lord is still imprisoned, His justice is still denied, for the crime of wanting a choice.” Zeldris stepped closer. “Tell me, Salvatore…is changing that not a good reason?”

-

“That’s quite alright, Zeldris. It has taken long enough to bond with this human as it is. I should not like to waste time doing it again if I want to regain my full power,” Salvatore replied, though the reminder of their inventive conversations brought a flicker of amusement to their new face. It dissipated quickly under the nephilim’s next comments, her single-minded determination to steer their conversations rearing its ugly head. 

“The culling of the supernatural population is part of the reason I am back. I harbor no great fondness for humans or angels, I will destroy them for their role in it. That is part of your war, is it not?” They asked, cocking their head as the fire of anger and pain lit her eyes and heated her blood. Salvatore did not pretend to believe that their world was a fair one, they loathed the jealous and bitter God that incited the constant battle between one side and the other, but they had always known their mission to be balance and not radical change. “Your reasons are sound. Your argument is as convincing as it always is but I cannot promise you more than that. ” 

Once the realization set of who had taken up the barstool next time him, though he’d never show it for appearance sake, Micah silently was glad to be in the company of someone familiar following this embarrassment of a date. “Dude, what have I told you,” the witch addressed Forrest, a fellow EMT brethren, in a faux, stern voice, dropping the act a second later after a laugh escaped him. “You don’t have to write an entire essay when you talk to me. That was like, ten words too many, but I totally give you an ‘A’ plus. Much deserved after that.” Varying shifts came with the job, so when it came to Micah and Forrest working the same hours, it was an enjoyable day with all what their job entails aside. Given the tease, the words spoken certainly were taken to heart, an appreciation for the fact whether they were meant to make Micah feel better or not. Swigging the last bit of his drink, Micah ordered yet another when Forrest put in his drink order. “It’s his loss, you know? I was even willing to skip the formalities and get straight to roleplaying with him because supposedly he likes a man in uniform. Guess our uniform didn’t make the cut.—How was your day, man?”

-

Forrest rolled his eyes in response to the playful teasing, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took another sip of his drink. “Well, if you keep reminding me I may just have to do it out of spite. Especially when I receive such high marks for my musings.” The hellhound knew he had a tendency to be either longwinded or entirely too vague - a fact he didn’t find any point in fixing at this point in his life. If he were going to start ‘fixing’ things, that would be very low on the totem pole. “I agree. It is his loss. Who wouldn’t be enamored by an offer like that? Our uniform has all the appeal of a doctor with the added thrill of firefighters.” 

He had to think for a moment before replying to his coworker’s inquiry, staring down into his now-empty glass. “It was as well as it could be. Considering. I even had time to work on a project I’ve been meaning to.” 

Marshall furrowed his brow. “Righteous furry?” he questioned. “He’s not really a suspect, no,” the Light Faye admitted. Thing was, he was a piece of the puzzle—or so Marshall deeply believed. The only thing that didn’t make sense to the Light Faye was how the Banshee wail was delayed… “I do want to know more about him though,” he decided too explained.

Listening intently as Forrest spoke of his memories to catch any details he hadn’t added in believing they sounded too outlandish, he furrowed his brow. Marshall couldn’t remember anymore what he’d been through… but knew he hadn’t had a good time at all. Still, this basement sounded far worst. “… Ew… I’m so sorry,” he sympathized. “But you’re safe. That’s good.” He needed to talk to Destiny next…

-

“Yeah. He seemed the kind of man driven by what his god saw as the right thing. It seemed a heavy burden. I don’t have much to elaborate on for you, unfortunately. I don’t...remember much of what we spoke about. I couldn’t tell you if he had indicated anything more about himself personally either,” Forrest frowned, finding those gaps in his memory particularly frustrating since he remembered the proceeding moments with relative clarity. His spotted memory may have been better than most, but that just made what he couldn’t recall even more frustrating. 

He grabbed on, but immediately realized something was wrong. Instinctively, his hand recoiled back—the smell of burning flesh thick in the air. He was already healing, but slightly slower than he was used to.. and left speechless. Red hues focused on his target, hostile snarl on his features. What the Alpha saw, however, was new to him. “Wolf is sheep’s clothing? That’s trope is taken,” the werewolf mocked, still taking in his opponent. 

However, the voice that spoke to him did make him think of legends his elders recited back when his parents were at the helm of the Blood Moon Pack. “Hellhounds… Beautiful. I will not be insulted by a parasite,” Razor countered. What was worst that humans? Supernatural who stood up for them. A quick review of what he remembered of Hellhounds told Razor he might actually be at a disadvantage on his own. He could howl… However, his pride prevented it. 

A twisted grin spread across his lips as he settled his inner turmoil. For better or worst, Razor wanted to fight this lit match. If he was going to die, he’d enjoy the way out. “Maybe you’ll understand me better after a quick tussling of pain,” was all the reply he had to being called foolish and cocky. Leaping in an attempt to drag his claws into the Hellhound’s chest. Momentarily ignoring the heat and the feeling and smell of his melting claws. 

-

“I am no wolf. And you wear no sheep’s clothing.” Salvatore found the werewolf to be insufferable, far too cocky for his own good and with an ego that would make him annoying to fight. This Razor seemed the type that would not back down until there was nothing left of him but charred remains. Fortunately, the hellhound could provide him with just that, especially if he continued to make it so easy. 

Zeldris walked along the path on the side of the river, raven hair pushed back past her shoulders by the night breeze, blue eyes focused on the water as the moonlight was reflected on it. She often had a hard time appreciating her surroundings, her perception undoubtedly poisoned by her past with the Creator, everything he ever had a hand in doing inevitably a reminder of all the pain and suffering he had caused them. However, that night was somewhat different, the remainder of only two seals allowing Zeldris to look around Creation River Park and see the allure it held, the potential and possibilities. Once the Dark Lord was free, once He walked among them, He would make the world in His image. Then, Earth would truly be beautiful…

Her attention shifted when the new presence was detected, the corner of her lips lifting slightly. It’d been centuries since their last encounter, centuries since Zeldris knew of the hellhound’s whereabouts and what they were up to. For a creature that needed a human host to remain on Earth, hellhounds tended to be quite solitary, ’keeping in touch’ not a concept they were capable of grasping well. They would disappear and reappear seemingly on a whim, only around whenever they felt their mission required it. Considering the events happening in Creation Peaks, it wasn’t surprising Salvatore would eventually make their way to the town, their arrival not a matter of if but instead a matter of when.

“Far too many,” she answered, turning to face them. “But you on the other hand have changed quite a bit.” Blue eyes inspected Salvatore’s new face, an eyebrow arching upward. “Slim pickings, huh?” Zeldris smirked teasingly, turning back to look at the water. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Salvatore?” She chuckled to herself. “Have you finally come to take your rightful place among the ranks of Hell’s army?” Doubtful. The hellhound was far too stubborn to admit their true calling, always far more concerned with trivial matters rather than their master’s return.

-

“Humans do not last forever. Not even when powered by an entity such as myself,” they conceded, sliding their hands into the pockets of their host’s coat and returning Zeldris’ teasing smirk. “He will have to do. I cannot be picky. My old host was a rarity, I fear I was spoiled for good partnership.” Zeldris had a one-track mind, one Salvatore was all too familiar with. It seemed to the hellhound that all of their conversations eventually, no matter where they started. It was not a place that Salvatore enjoyed going, but they had accepted it as a fact of their relationship. “Can I not speak to you without ulterior motive? It is rare that I see a familiar face these days.” 

Her question was exactly the one they expected, it almost made them laugh. They held more loyalty to hell than to heaven, but Salvatore found themselves less concerned with the petty fighting between them and more concerned with keeping it and the rest of the supernatural concealed from the general population. It had been their mission for as long as they could recall and they did not foresee it changing. “I have come to maintain balance as I always have. That will not change unless you give me very good reason.” 

It was the mention of holy water what got his attention once Forrest had returned him his notepad and Marshall went over the other’s notes. For some reason, the memory they both share before the divination booth being read made the Light Fate feel a knot in his chest and his heart fall to the ground. They’d been having a good time… He remembered hugging Nadia as if it was the last time they’d ever hugged—like a twisted foreshadowing of the horrors that awaited them. And he remembered telling Elijah to cheer up… just to find out the vampire had died. “Destiny… I think I remember her… she tried blue shit for me,” Marshall decided on sharing—as if he’d spoken a normal sentence. 

“This guy with holy water and flashlights… If I showed you some pictures, could you pick him out of the few?” the Light Faye questioned. Even if it hadn’t been holy water, it sounded like hunter to Marshall. “Also, do you remember any odd… happenings?” He paused before offering an example from his experience. “I was stuck in a library-type of place… Something threatening came out of the book… But once the book close, it just—” he moved his hands exaggeratedly. “—vanished.”

-

“Blue shit?” He ask curiously before shaking his head, unwilling to sidetrack himself when there was so much laid out before them on that notepad. “Never mind. Um...yes, I believe I could if you were to show me photos. Where we were it was dark, but his flashlight illuminated his face a few times. Why? Do you believe him to be responsible for this? it would...make sense when considering how prepared he was but he seemed genuine in his righteous fury.” 

The werewolf followed like it’s animal counter would a hare, hunting silently. Each step sent a shot of adrenaline up his spine, having to consciously hold back a growl as Razor followed the scent. His prey remained on the street, Razor on the shadow of the woods beside it… The streets felt deserted, and his instincts were insisting he hunted.

“I know you are there.”

The words made the werewolf grin to himself, teeth having sharpened and elongated. “What a curious hare.” The Blood Moon Alpha didn’t know of any supernatural who had no scent of it’s own and still could’ve sensed him. “Or are you the show me yours and I’ll show you mine type?” he asked, having used his enhanced speed to reach out from beside Forrest, claws trying to dig into his shoulder to pull him into the abyss that was the forestation around the werewolf. A growl vibrated in his throat, eyes glowing red.

-

Though not at their full power, Salvatore could fend for themselves as soon as they had control. Fortunately, it was dark outside - rather late with infrequent passerby’s - as Forrest himself did not have a strong enough bond with the hellhound to access their powers alone. 

As soon as Razor’s claws closed around their shoulder, ripping through Forrest’s nice coat, their entire figure was engulfed in flames. Small but white-hot they danced along their skin without harm, instead searing any piece of the wolf that dared come close enough. Snarling right back, their mouth filled with fangs to rival their hunter, their eyes glowing embers in the dark - Forrest’s icy stare lit on fire like the rest of him. Obscured by the density of the forest around them, Salvatore felt no concern for being spotted. “You are foolish, mutt. Foolish and cocky.” 

Who: Open ( @risingpeaksreblogs​ )

Where: Some bar

When: 9:07pm

If there was anything more ego-crushing than being set up on a blind date by co-workers, it was being stood up by said blind date. The only reason Micah had agreed was because he knew the woman was going through an awful divorce, and therefore looked rather happy when Micah had agreed to go out with her cousin. He figured it was worth the shot, because what did he really have to lose? Apparently a lot, including his good mood. Now he was holding onto a drink and trying not to let it annoy him too much. “I have a lesson for you: Never trust a probie who is having their own relationship issues. You know, she said her cousin is very reliable and trustworthy and perfect husband material. I would say he is neither of those things when he doesn’t show up and with that also ruins his chances of getting free drinks”, he said in an almost bitter tone to whoever had stepped up to the bar seconds before.

- 

“That is sound advice. I am normally wary of those that are unnessicarily built up by their friends and family. One would think that if you are a reliable, trustworthy person worthy of long-term partnership, your presence would not need to come with so much preface.” Forrest sat down in the barstool next to the man, ordering himself something to drink after his long shift at work. Being an EMT meant odd and long hours. Especially with the whole town in such disarray after the festival, the hellhound found himself compelled to seek low-stakes company and drinks to unwind. “Though now that I think about it, excessive praise is probably standard affair. I haven’t had much opportunity to experience those things myself, for which I consider myself lucky. Or perceivably undesirable. Probably somewhere between the two.” 

Shrugging, he took a sip of his drink. He didn’t consider it much of a loss. “I am sorry that your night was disrupted by the man’s callous disregard for your plans. Perhaps it is a blessing, though, to not have any investment when he is so disappointing.”