DEAD GIRL WALKING

                “oh, of course not. no, you screaming from rage now. don’t you, little poltergeist?” fingers run through wild curls, raising an eyebrow at the other. he didn’t love to push the buttons of others, even if he enjoyed their company. don’t take it personally, letha! it’s probably because he enjoys your company that he teases you! even if it does seem relentless and uncalled for! “oh, it’s a good time! the music? superb! the environment? even better! though, it gets a little much for me on occasion. to be away from the forest,” a small smile. he wasn’t going to tell her that iron had weakened his powers. no, he wouldn’t want to seem vulnerable now! 

                    “but doesn’t it still fit you? do you not remember where you come from?” a mischievous grin appearing on his features as his thumb seems to drag across his bottom lip. an eyebrow raises in question before his attention seems to be drawn to something else. “and you mean to tell me that horrible things do not happen on the french quarter? whilst the quarter is full of fun and activities, it’s also full of despair and terror.” a snicker leaves him. “a perfect playground for chaos.” a grunt leaves him, a wave of his hand. “but i can only stay there for so long.” cities tend to make him weak due to high iron. 

               “i am not wrong, am i not? you are from the swamp,” a smirk, one that could be considered flirtatious spreading across his features. “of course, i call you maiden as a compliment,” a hand comes up to flatten out any wrinkles that may have appeared on the front of his brightly colored button down. an eyebrow raises at the other, curiouser and curiouser. letha was a very interesting creature, to say the least. kept him entertained. it was certainly a shame the poltergeist had no interest in going to the shadowlands with him. a shame! “they’re usually too drunk to fully understand what they are listening to and tend to just dance. whatever. i enjoy a good dance,” a content hum leaves him, head tilting to the side. “and what does the bayou have to offer?” other than nature. the fae usually stayed on the outskirts of new orleans by the bayou. 

               it’s funny how things work. how growing up, living life ( and in letha’s case, dying ) could really change a person. you go from a naive child to a hardened adult. usually, anyways. brock had met many daydreamer maidens in the meadow and forest many times in his day. people who didn’t heed the warning of fae. they were what gave him something to do! something to play with! the lot of them were still stuck in faerieland. “ah, yes. you were some kind of swamp maiden in your time,” a grin spreads across his features. “i’m sure you can show the tourists how to really dance to jazz, correct?” an eyebrow raises. “i don’t particularly stray far from the french quarter but you might.”

              faeries didn’t like lying. it wasn’t in there character! they certainly also expected the same amount of respect. if caught in a lie, well—…a fae would just feel betrayed! a betrayed fae was more dangerous than any other fae, in all honesty. wasn’t something you wanted to deal with. “new orleans is a fun place. i frequent there often,” mainly because he was posing as a nomadic musician. new orleans was the place to go in order to play music at a lot of different venues. not to mention that it was quite fun to party all night. a lot of the bars didn’t close at all. 

                internally, he’s mischievously grinning. all teeth. though, he doesn’t show that on the outside. no, he wasn’t a liar but he knew to twist the truth enough. so, he wouldn’t show how he was truly feeling. it wasn’t a lie, was it? of course not. he didn’t have a lying bone in his body! now, manipulative and cunning? he had plenty of those. that was for sure. “i wouldn’t know,” it’s not a complete lie. fae don’t really feel like that. always the loved, never the lover. though, he did have someone he thought very highly of. he would never speak of her, though. “oh? and what’s on the improved poltergeist agenda?” 

                  ah, yes. he remembers that time period. the eighteen hundreds. always a messy, messy time. he will give it to letha, she had grown to blend into the time period that was now. even as a fucking ghost. funny how things worked. head tilts to the side, his expression almost bored as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants, raising an eyebrow. a sad case, really. though, he was starting to not feel so bad for her. perhaps she had done this all to herself. “following around a demon that doesn’t want to give you the time of day instead of enjoying the world. sad, really. a pity,” 

                  he’ll roll his eyes at the mention of an irish preacher. he probably even knew of the man if she even remembered his name. he did find it fun to tease the overly superstitious. it was always a known thing, especially in that time period, to avoid the fae. even if you didn’t believe in the so called hogwash of it all, people still seemed to avoid fairy circles and lone rocks in a field. he always found it rather funny. “changelings are good fun, letha.” tongue clicks on the roof of his mouth. they were trouble, to say the least. “but did you pay attention?”

                 the fae couldn’t help but feel pity for the poltergeist. what a life she must lead! pining over a demon who would never love her and wandering like some drifter. he’ll simply shake his head, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he did so. a few curls escape from behind his ear and he’ll push them back, dark eyes meeting hers once more. “oh, us fae aren’t that bad. especially to those inhuman,” a toothy grin is given with his response, head tilting to the side. “so what is your purpose, poltergeist?”

                   he stays quiet for quite sometime, just staring at the other with intense eyes. a grunt leaves him finally, a roll of his eyes. he understands the sisters dynamic. how death seemingly pulled them a part. letha held on for dear life but leila wasn’t really there anymore. there wasn’t much hope for leila, to say the least. brock couldn’t argue that, which was why he stayed quiet. a fae couldn’t lie. they could twist words, but lying was not something they could do. “you’re already dead, letha.” eyebrows raise as he states this rather matter of fact. “sorry to tell you this but you are dead as a fuckin’ door nail. basically, you could go to heaven or hell. perhaps even be stuck in faerieland for all eternity,” a grin spreads across his face. “but you choose to be here instead. with the humans.”

               “fer’ the last time, leila! i don’t need protectin’! ya’ crazy fookin’ bird!” the words flow out of his mouth easily, his run turning into a jog. he knows better than anyone he needs to conserve his energy. teeth clench together as shaking hands move into the pockets of his patched up leather jacket, pulling out his cigarettes. perhaps he tried to act for natural, she wouldn’t be inclined to attack him once again. 

                cigarette is placed between his lips, flame tickling the end of it. in his other free hand, a mini water gun filled with holy water. he always at least had a small one on him. it was for comfort reasons. he knew he couldn’t stop xaphan with it. not for long anyways. he’ll stop in his tracks, blowing smoke into the air as he held up the lime green plastic toy. 

                                                    “ya’ know wha’ this is, bitch?” 

               “ain’t gonna stop jus’ because you don’t fuckin’ know any better,” he sounds like letha, the bitch. she let him go. he wouldn’t have such stupid ideas if  he had just stayed where he was. the warehouse was safe, secure. If letha didn’t bring xaphan down there, she could have kept him safe. never mind that she didn’t feed him properly and she’d broken his leg twice just to keep him where he was. she’d been about to do it again, honestly,  before letha let him go. 

        her head jerks as he stops, keeping a short distance away from him. mismatched eyes narrowing on the toy in his hands, hands loose at her sides as she shifts, pacing around him. circling, like a predator. “ain’t nice t’talk t’me like that. only anna keep ya’ safe, trevor.” her gaze studies the toy carefully before lifting to him, head tipped slightly. another crack, and her eyes get clearer for a moment before she shifts, fading.