𝖎·𝖙𝖎𝖓·𝖊𝖗·𝖆𝖓𝖙

It was never easy dealing with loss. Mercy had grown up going to more funerals than birthdays, constantly feeling as if the ghosts were looming over her shoulders. How the other brushed it off so easily, she was either incredible at her bluff, or operated on a completely different level than Mercy would ever be able to. Her father had always said she was too soft. “My condolences nonetheless.” She tipped her glass up in the Mathers woman's direction, and took a long sip to ease her own nerves. “Time will help you mend, I believe. In the meantime, I am sure there are plenty here who would be able to offer you an ear — myself included.” The corners of her lips turn upward in a small smile, another poor attempt at comfort. When she confided in her lack of skill, Mercy had to laugh. “I don't think you give yourself enough credit — you would be surprised how many people can muck up an old fashioned. You can start on another one, if you don't mind.” She chuckled, noticing that there was mostly just the orange in the bottom of her drink, her nerves making all the decisions for her tonight.

‟  sushi,  empanadas,  spaghetti  and  you  chose  ...  greek.  ”  minty  sniffed  as  if  was  the  most  deplorable  thing  that  he  could've  ever  chosen  under  the  sun,  though  she  wouldn't  say  no  to  a  gyro  any  time  of  the  day  and  despite  her  dramatics,  she  followed  along  in  the  direction  he'd  gestured  to  without  saying  anything  else.  ‟  what  i  need  for  my  health,  my  dear  rome,  is  another  one.  maybe  not  as  big  as  this  but  a  medium  soda  to  get  me  through  the  rest  of  the  day.  i've  been  sleeping  horribly.  ”  a  flippant  confession  but  one  nonetheless.  sleep  didn't  come  easy  to  her  anyway,  but  the  past  weeks  had  been  the  worst  in  years.  ‟  how  do  you  manage  while  working  at  the  hospital  ?  ”    

With Minty chirping in his ear about all his wrong decisions, he couldn't help but laugh as they journeyed in the direction of the shop. “I could go for empanadas. But I doubt you know where we could find any.” The light jest is accompanied by his sideways grin, somewhere between charming and condescending, as was his way. “No, no. You're going to give yourself high blood pressure, anxiety, maybe even — ” He cut himself off as the full statement processed in his brain, and his face softened. “Why aren't you sleeping? Is the new place not comfortable?” He stopped on the pavement to look at her, observe her and her inappropriately sized drink, and Dr. Bautista had all but taken over, checking for other signs of fatigue, fragility, or magical ailments. “I run on adrenaline.” He offered, though he is too distracted with trying to cure her.

amir hums in quiet acknowledgement . there are many things on the menu he has yet to try , but he doubts that any of them would disappoint . the owner , it seems , possesses a love for detail . ❛ you must ? ❜ his choice of words amuses the vampyr , though a flicker of disappointment lingers beneath the surface . yes , the charcuterie board is presented with indulgent care , luxurious and divine ⸻ crafted for gods rather than mortals . but there was a time when every meal bore such reverence and he remembers it all too well . ❛ i must have unreasonably high standards . i consider it the bare minimum . ❜

Rome laughed then, surprised by the unceremonious critique of the platter before him. “Looks like you've got a future as a food critic” He teased, waving his hand in the older man's direction. “I'm sure a man of high brow class such as yourself is used to every meal having a certain decadence to it but,” They trailed off, the shrug attempting to lessen the blow of all but calling him a snob. “I think the simplicity adds a certain elegance to it.” Rome had never brushed shoulders with the upper crust in his years traveling the world, or, not in the sense he'd ever been invited to a fancy dinner. His time was spent kneeling on the floor for simple rice dishes, or stumbling half drunk through streets that no longer exist. 

At the mention of where he was from, Rome's expression softened at the words left unsaid. His birthplace had been in the stars — too far away to ever gaze upon correctly. His rebirth had been a monsoon that swept him onto the isles of the philippines, but his vision of the isles he knew before kairos would be unrecognizable to isles the modern world understood. “Is home hard to return to?” He asked, a sympathetic smile on his lips. “No, no. Kairos and I have only known each other a decade or two.” He shrugged, the exact amount of time leaving him the moment he needed it. “My family passed, and I never returned home.” An odd truth, twisted somewhere between his love for the family that took him in and the knowledge that mimaropa and the stars will never see him again. “Well, that got bleak.” He laughed, then held up his drink. “Here's to talking about anything else.” He cheered the air whether the other joined him or not, and took a long drink of his glass.

it wasn't the underworld that changed him , but the fragments that escaped from it ⸻ erebus' children and their endless thirst . julian refuses to speak of the extent of it all , the nightmares from which he wakes , gasping for air . his friends know that he died and he leaves it at that , sparing them the gory details that prove the stranger right : it did change him forever . . . which is why his explorations hardly make any difference now . ❛ a taint ? ❜ he echoes , the word cutting through him like a knife . his eyes narrow as he lowers them with a small shake of his head . is that what he is now ? tainted ? the thought sends an unshakable cold through his veins and he swallows hard before he lifts his gaze back to hers . ❛ i don't know what you're talking about . ❜ denial at its finest , but what else is he supposed to do ? find out just how trustworthy she is , by telling her the truth ? great idea . his mind is racing and he tries to steady himself by watching styx , at least until she turns to look at him , brown eyes piercing his hazel ones almost uncomfortably long . features twist into a frown when realization hits him . ❛ you are not human , are you ? ❜ impolite to ask , perhaps , but they are not having the politest conversation anyway , are they ? his gaze drops to her hand , frown deepening when she grips his arm to underline her words and the urgency behind them . ❛ i wasn't trying to be reckless . ❜ his voice barely rises above a whisper . ❛ and i didn't steal . . . he wanted to come back with me , he followed me . ❜ the erebide never would have taken him from hades' and persephone's realm . never .

Truth was, she would never know what occurred to this man that had him changed, but her intuition was never that far from wrong. Something had occurred in him, and caused a thread to be pulled just out of place, turning him into a pile of thread as opposed to a complete tapestry. Before she could ask him if she had stuttered when he repeated the word ‘taint’, he quickly lied to her, hiding in the comfort of a shadow of truth. “Of course not.” Vera said coldly, the hubris of man once again claiming to be able to overcome that which is not theirs to behold. Her lover had been the same, driven by desire and hubris and the gods be damned audacity to touch what death had already taken. And now look at what had become of her? Who knew what havoc and consequence his journey to the underworld had cost him or those around him, but it was clear he was not ready to reconcile with his mistakes. “No, no. Man can go into a god's domain and come back without so much as a hair out of place. There are no stories that contradict this.” Her tone is not mocking, she is far too scared of what he has done to be, though the words themself could be seen as such. 

“Far from it, boy.” Vera admitted, wondering briefly if her pupils had turned to slits in her frustration, some half shifted monstrosity giving her away. But no, he was far too curious for his own good, stepping past boundaries that were better left untouched, so she was sure her knowledge alone led him to this assumption. “What you intended makes no difference here and now. You cannot go there again.” Her throat tightened, her desire to use the hypnotism on him to make him less an idiot tempting, but his willpower was far too strong. Would it even work on a soul like his? She was not eager to try. Besides, hypnotism was reserved exclusively for feeding, at least for her. “You're right — my mistake. The gods are always forgiving on those who trespass. And surely they will believe that he followed you up with no persuasion.” There's a sigh that followed this, accompanied by a tightened grip on his arm. She removed the hand on her chest in favor of placing it on his shoulder. There is no real strength behind the grip, only hoping the touch will bring him down from whatever clouds he was rested upon. “I'm not trying to fight with you. I am simply giving you a warning you would do best to heed.” For a moment, it's another uncomfortably long stare, but she can't bear to look into his defiant eyes, so she settled for his clenched jaw. “Do you even regret what you have done?” The question, one she would kill to ask her old lover, is now thrusted upon a boy of maybe thirty, who is probably in over his head. Yet, an ounce of remorse, a hint of regret, just a wistful glance in the direction of undoing, and she would know there was still some saving to him. She finally met his gaze again, searching for some symblance of regret. 

with the shadows gone , emilia is trying to move past the discomfort of the last few weeks ⸻ not as easy as it sounds when two of her closest friends experienced death and transition , leaving a mark that is irreversible . eternal . as much as she wants to be there for them ( and tries her best to do so ) , a part of her craves the presence of another lamia . someone older and wiser , without being a bore . her feet carry her toward the stoa of mysteries and she enters the museum with one goal in mind : finding vera . it doesn't take long before relief floods her features , chocolate brown eyes settling on @it1nerant . ❛ hi . ❜ she breathes , hands reaching out to rest on both of her arms . ❛ i'm here to kidnap you . will you have coffee with me ? ❜ or , quite literally , anything else . all that she truly wants right now is her company .

Life in Kairos was ever changing, faster than a creature of her age would like. It felt more rapid than the average mortal lives were, felt like it was accelerating into something she couldn't yet understand. And just as fast as it had happened, the silence had returned — mundane and unoriginal and terribly bleak as the average mortal's existence was. Whatever had happened had reached its apex, and now there was only the aftermath, picking up whatever pieces she could. It's a relief to turn the corner and see not a relic or fear or shadows, but to spot Emilia making her way toward her. “Hello.” She smiled, eyes twinkling with confusion, but her skin humming in delight at the comfort of the other's touch. She had yet to figure out if it was the nature they were both of, or simply something exclusive to Emilia. “I suppose work could wait…” Vera trailed off, removing the hands from her arms in order to interlace one with her own. “I never know where I will find you next.” She mused, hand squeezing hers in casual affection. “Not that I mind this little diversion. I was getting a little tired with all those artifacts, but — to what do I owe the pleasure?” Her head tilted as she guided her toward the employee exit of the stoa, hoping her probing would not be met with annoyance.

the statement draws a thoughtful frown to her features . it is none of her business , but talia finds herself asking anyway . ❛ did you take your morning jog a little too far or was the destination out of your control ? ❜ the latter would be concerning . unfortunately , the mud on her pajamas might be telling that exact story . morning exercise rarely results in scratches and mud , all over someone's body . the hybrid wouldn't have blamed her for laughing straight in her face . she doesn't appear to be alright ⸻ but she tries not to overstep and cause additional discomfort . ❛ i could fix them up for you if you are really attached to them . ❜ she offers , a small smile tugging at her lips . ❛ but we might want to start with your wounds first . the moors are full of plants that heal , but just as many that can harm . i would rather not see that get infected . ❜ another offer , one the stranger could take or leave . ❛ talia . ❜ she says as she extends a hand . ❛ and you are ? ❜

The way the other observed her should have had her taking a protective step back, but truly, how could wandering the forest in pajamas look normal to anyone? Instead, she self consciously rubbed at her arms as if to self soothe, debating how honest of an answer she should give.  “I was…lost in thought.” She decided, because sleepwalking at her old age was not only embarrassing, but somehow too unbelievable for her to say. Not that being lost in though was the most credible answer, but still, it was an easier lie to swallow. “Lost track of time, is all.” The shrug was as unconvincing as the statement, but she tried to look firm in herself.

While she held some sentimentality to the pants — mostly in the form of reliability and comfort — they were long past their expiration date. The soft pastels looked almost childlike compared to the beginner professor status she held, though she had never intended for the garments to be seen. “You've got…quite the observant eye.” Mercy laughed, hands uncovering the marks she had hoped would go unnoticed. “I suppose your help with my arms would be appreciated. I am not well versed in the flora here.” She paused, then nodded in acknowledgement and took a few careful steps toward the other, avoiding twigs and sharp stones as best she could. “Talia — it's a pleasure. I am Mercy.” 

he  really  hated  it  when  marina  forced  him  to  come  out  of  the  house,  but  especially  in  places  like  this.  ambrosia  was  quiter  than  most  of  the  other  places  in  kairos  but  the  music  was  still  loud  enough  that  it  was  a  little  grating,  the  quietness  of  his  home,  inkspell,  and  the  other  places  he  frequented  more  what  he  was  used  to  now.  ‟  hmm  ?  ”  asks  when  he  realizes  that  he's  being  spoken  to,  glancing  down  at  his  cocktail  glass  quickly.  ‟  i'm  not  sure,  i  don't  come  here  that  often.  ”  everything  looked  the  same  to  him  the  last  time  he'd  been  dragged  there,  but  he  also  wouldn't  be  able  to  point  out  the  bathroom  if  he  needed  to.

‟  cranberry  juice,  sprite,  and  lime.  i  don't  drink,  but  you  could  get  a  vokda  cranberry  and  ask  for  a  spritz  of  club  soda  instead.  ”  years  later  and  he  could  still  rattle  different  combinations  off  of  the  tip  of  his  tongue.  ‟  i  think  they  have  other  specialty  cocktails  tonight,  but  i  wasn't  paying  much  attention.  ”      

The presence of the other was a comfort, at least, in the smallest sense. He wasn't all that good at making friends who didn't want to party, so he was taken aback by the man's quiet nature, but intrigued all the same. “Ah, that's alright. It was mostly a thinly veiled attempt for conversation.” He admitted coolly, though, he was actually really concerned about the change in decor, and they would be finding a waiter at some point in the night to directly ask. “Do you think its working?” They whispered, lips turning upwards into a grin.

At the mention of his cocktail — or mocktail? — Rome's expression deepened in intrigue. It was odd when someone came to a bar alone and didn't drink, wasn't it? Maybe, like the nymph, he was simply here for some company, or the illusion of some. “I think it sounds better how you're having it, actually.” Rome had never developed much of a taste for vodka, for whatever reason it seemed to be the one beverage that left him feeling a little too out of sorts than he liked. But everyone had their preferences. “Specialties?” They repeated, peering around for some sort of sign or menu, fingers aimlessly drumming on their glass. “Now how did I miss that?” He asked, spotting the list of drinks on the back of the bar. “Well, if drinking isn't your thing, how do you kick back then?” An innocent question, careless, but innocent.

Mercy wasn't funny — it was an unfortunate truth of her existence — so she watched her joke go unappreciated or deliberately ignored when he replied, and sighed as she shifted her weight from side to side. “Riiiight.” She drug out the word, scratching her head in uncertainty as she looked in the direction he had pointed, and then back to him. He struck her as the type of man who kept his cards close to his chest, didn't speak unless absolutely necessary — definitely the type of man her father would hang around. He was a hunter™ and she was a distraction on his journey through the moors. “A run, o'course.” She nodded, though she shifted her gaze away from his to hide the fact that she didn't quite believe him.

“Quieter, yes. Safer? I dunno about that. Gym probably might ensure a longer life span for you.” Her shrug is halfhearted as she begins to remove herself from the patch of twigs and stones she had woken up in, quick enough that she didn't fall on her butt, but feigning a shake so he wouldn't know these muscles were well trained in the hunt as well. She didn't know why she wanted to hide it from him, but it made her feel safer to have an ace up her sleeve. “What can I say? I like to be cozy for my early morning strolls.” As she went to leave in the direction he had gestured, she felt that tingling feeling in her stomach like something was in the moors with them, and she couldn't help but want to offer both creature and hunter a chance at life. “You sure it's not dangerous out there? If it isn't too much trouble…” She trailed off, hating the words before they were even spoken. “Maybe you could make sure I get back safe?” Mercy's expression is one battling annoyance and trying for sympathetic, though she is sure it comes across rather bizarre and, well, awkward. 

hazel eyes take her in as he tries to interpret her words . is there an emphasis on the word bones or is it about her age instead ? she makes him doubt that she's human , but her reaction to his statement is enough to distract julian from trying to solve the mystery . ❛ foolish ? why would it be foolish to explore the realm that . . . ❜ voice trails off as he realizes that he is about to overshare . enough of his friends told him that he cannot reveal his true nature unless he trusts someone ⸻ the last thing he should do is extend it to a stranger . ❛ well , i made it back in one piece . ❜ what a weak attempt to smooth things over , but there's a chance that she thinks he's an idiot rather than a new , mysterious species that should be burned at the stake .

His insistence set her skin ablaze, but she bit her tongue, hiding her anger behind a stoic expression. She could feel the taste of metal in her mouth, knowing now she bit down too hard, canine like fangs too sharp for the average human slicing open her human facade. “To enter hell is to forever be changed.” Vera whispered quietly, her eyes searching his in an attempt to find whatever asinine reason had led to his descent. Though she could not tell, could not even sense a change from human to whatever he was now, she knew there was a haunt to his eyes that no unscathed mortal man could have. “Look upon the ocean's low tide and tell me you don't feel a taint upon your soul.” Her voice cracked only slightly — early visions of her own haunted gaze in a water's reflection coming to mind. Gone the girl of the sun, singing and dancing and enchanted by her musical man, and in her stead, a wretched beast slithering around for her next kill. 

As the beast was away, Vera felt she could breathe a little easier, if only slightly. This Styx was kinder than most animals she was used to, but she supposed them both being in a world that was not their own bonded them in a sort of way. When he spoke, questioning her, she shook her head and turned to fully face him, brown eyes meeting hazel for perhaps a moment too long, to really emphasize her concern. “How else would I know of its weight?” She admitted, her hand resting against her her heart for a moment, the faint heartbeat reminding her that she was shade no more. Her free hand uncharacteristically reached for him, gripping his arm stern but gentle, as if pleading with him. “You cannot be reckless like that again.” And then, almost as a warning, she added, “Hell does not take being deceived and stolen from lightly.” If there was any question of what he had stolen, her eyes broke away from his to look at the hellhound trying to pull the stick back toward them, dragging it half in the sand.

THE   LAST   THING   YOUNG   MI   NEEDED   WAS   AN   ACCIDENT   SHE   HAD   NOT   PROVOKED.   Yet,   here   she   was,   carrying   a   bleeding   mortal   who   had   decided   it   was   a   good   idea   to   do   whatever   the   hell   that   was   that   ended   up   with   her   skull   cracked   on   the   nightly   cement.   Granted,   it   had   rained   not   too   long   before   Young   Mi   watched   the   scene   unfold   before   her   eyes,   so   maybe   that   part   of   the   road   was   slippering.   Alas,   as   heartless   as   people   generally   deemed   her   to   be,   Young   Mi   picked   the   bleeding   human   up   and   took   her   to   the   hospital–yes,   carrying   her   as   it   would   not   only   be   faster   with   her   vampyr   speed,   but   also,   she   wouldn’t   want   some   random   person’s   blood   to   stain   her   car’s   seats   and   have   her   mouth   water   every   once   in   a   while. ❝   You’re   a   doctor,   yes?   ❞    The   brunette   asked   the   nearest   person   wearing   scrubs   once   she’d   practically   dropped   the   human   on   one   of   the   chairs   by   the   waiting   area.    ❝   Simone   Biles   over   there   is   out   cold   after   hitting   her   head.   ❞    Young   Mi   let   out   a   sigh   that   sounded   more   as   if   she   were   annoyed   rather   than   upset.    ❝   Could   you–I   don’t   know,   maybe   help   her?   I’d   like   not   to   be   here   for   longer   than   I   have   to.   ❞

The hospital — if it could be called that — had a quiet air to it that gave the illusion of peace and serenity while the actual treatment rooms saw the brunt of the horrors that stumbled through the doors. He was supposed to be more hands off than the others, checking off procedures on a clipboard and only intervening when something out of the scope of his team was necessary. And yet — when the small woman came through his doors, feigning that same level of calm despite the clearly injured woman she had carried in — Rome couldn't help but rush toward her. Perhaps it was simply that a healer never fully lost their sense of urgency for taking care of the wounded. 

“Simone Biles, huh?” They laughed, scooping up the unconscious girl, and nodding with his head toward the double doors for the other to follow. “What did she hit head on?” He asked, carrying the woman to the back and setting her on the gurney a nurse had met them halfway with. Observing the woman on the bed, he paled at how deep it was. “Blunt force trauma on the left side of her head.” He murmured as the nurse called out the vitals and he turned to the other woman, calm and yet somehow totally disengaged with the danger her — friend? — was currently in. “You did the right thing bringing her in.” Rome tried to reassure her, offering a hand on her shoulder before quickly removing it. The touch of the other was cold, yet, his own hand tingled and radiated with a warmth he hadn't really expected. “You can follow us to the room — you don't wanna leave your friend alone, right?” Surely the other would be elated at this slight rule he was breaking, allowing her back into the trauma room while they worked her up. They were completely oblivious to what blood might do to the woman.

the  door  swung  open,  leg  stuck  out  to  try  to  prevent  either  of  the  dogs  from  running  out  curiously.  the  box  of  ornaments  sparkled  in  the  sun  sending  rays  of  colors  shimmering  across  vera's  features  as  minty  broke  out  into  a  bright  smile.  ‟  well,  well.  look  who  the  cat  dragged  in  !  ”  it  took  a  moment  for  her  to  back  the  dogs  away  from  the  door,  shooing  them  with  her  leg  and  a  hand  as  she  shifted  the  box  to  her  left  hand  to  balance.  ‟  hello  to  you  too  !  come  on  in,  they  won't  bother  you.  ”  the  nymph  backs  up  a  couple  of  spaces  for  vera  to  be  able  to  enter,  sending  her  back  with  a  great  flourish.  ‟  welcome,  to  my  humble  abode  !  please  excuse  progress,  i'm  in  the  middle  of  decorating.  ”  as  if  the  ornaments  in  her  hand  and  the  tinsel  in  her  hair  wasn't  an  indication  of  such.  ‟  i  accept  all  bribes,  especially  when  they  come  in  the  form  of  libations.  i'm  pretty  sure  i  have  my  wine  glasses  unpacked.  this  way,  ”  cocks  her  head  to  be  followed  as  she  goes  through  the  foyer  towards  the  kitchen,  pausing  to  sit  the  box  down  and  open  the  sliding  glass  door  to  the  fenced  in  backyard  to  let  the  dogs  out.

‟  so,  to  what  do  i  owe  this  pleasure  ?  not  that  you  need  a  reason,  ”  minty  asks  once  she'd  closed  the  door  behind  her,  puttering  around  until  she'd  found  the  wine  goblets.  she  placed  two  down  onto  the  island,  holding  a  hand  out  for  the  wine.    

There is a semblance of amusement on Vera's face as she watched the other assimilate so easily into a holiday Vera herself had never saw much appeal in. The tinsel in her hair, the way her eyes sparkled along the tinsel in the sunlight, the fact that every time she gazed upon Minty, she couldn't help but feel as if she was glowing magnificently for all to see. It probably should be noted that this notion was simply constructed from her deep adoration for the nymph, and very rarely was this star alight with joy. But in the simplest interactions, Minty was a guiding light to the home the two of them found themselves in, the lives they had both settled into. “Cats hiss at me still, I'm afraid.” Vera smiled, watching the other balance effortlessly on one leg while managing about three different things at once. “If you're sure — you know how beasts and I tend to…” She trailed off as she considered the nicest way to put it. “Clash.” She decided, slipping into the home and pressing herself firm against one of the walls, somehow finding the hard surface safer than trespassing on the dogs' territory. “It is gorgeous — you must be so happy here.” Vera smiled, following close behind Minty when she moved, eyes downward at her feet to ignore the gaze of over excited hounds. They seemed friendly enough, though, her scent was making them far more curious than she would like. Still, for her dear friend, she would endure it. 

At the mention of her arrival, Vera set the rest of her welcoming goods on the island for the other to see. “Twas time for me to offer my congratulations for your house. And help you make it feel more like a home and less a shell.” She paused, looking around at the half unpacked house as she unscrewed the cork. “Though, it seems I am a little late on the last part.” With the cork open, she poured the liquor into the goblets provided, admiration for the glasses almost distracting enough she over poured. “Do you want help? I can't promise I have an eye for the holiday design, but I can go where you tell me.” She nodded. 

Rome nodded as the other spoke, his uncertainty remaining but his interest piqued. “That's a big glass.” He agreed, eyeing it not in envy, but curiosity. How had the other swindled a bartender into giving him a high content of alcohol for one old fashioned? Perhaps there was some unspoken rule between the other and the staff, or maybe he just paid an obscene amount to be able to have his own sort of solitude — Rome should probably stop speculating on a perfect stranger. “It's good to be able to kick back and relax.” He offered, tilting his cup in the direction of the other. “Though the size of the drink just tells me you either hold your alcohol extremely well or are a lot of fun to be around at parties.” His grin is lopsided and easy, carelessly nonchalant as always.