—FOR THE DEAD TRAVEL FAST

independent, selective, & private VAMPIRE OC with original lore. established 1/22. loved by puck.

CARRD. | MEMES.

THE QUIET SOUND OF ‘ THE END OF THE WORLD ‘ BY SKEETER DAVIS fills their silence as shelby lifts her sights onto him, thinking long about this. after a while she’d nod her head and use her left hand to push herself off the medical bed; neglecting to remember that her left foot was just a tad injured as well. she winced, glared at the limb and rolled her eyes.

carrington wouldn’t mind one peek, would he? even if he did, shelby sure didn’t give a shit what he thought was best. she respected the doctor but sometimes he can be  ― so damn irritating.

limping and hopping from one leg to the other as she walked with maxwell, shelby finally decides to lift her tough shit act and just lean on the man for support. but that doesn’t stop her from turning her head around mid way there; taking a wistful look at her pompadour wearing companion.

deacon was acting off, more than usual. it worried her when she knew why. but charmer knew how to handle herself, handle the institute; shelby wasn’t going to worry…much. honestly, shelby wanted to speak to him but her voice was still recovering from her screaming  ―  yelling, and the explosion; it was surprising she was even able to get as many words out to max as she did. 

                                     from here though, she’d have to remain silent.

 stepping out of the church, and toward the waterfront; shelby took great vengeful pleasure in seeing the smoke from where they were currently, her expression remained emotionless though. resting at a neutral state. she took max’s hand, encouraging him to keep it palm up and started tapping it with a single finger. morse code was important in their line of work, so she hoped he knew it.

“ DO YOU THINK THERE WILL BE RETALIATION ?  ” shelby signed, sarcastic as ever. not taking her eyes off the ruined blimp; a snort and then a coughing fit   ― and finally a wheeze leaving her airway. even laughing at her own pettiness was pushing it, she guessed.

        he follows her gaze to where deacon sits against against one of the old stone walls, one knee tucked against his chest.  max nods in his direction & the other agent returns the gesture. supporting shelby with his arm, max leads her out of hq.

        the sun is just beginning to dip beneath the ruined skyline as they approach the river; on the horizon, smoke billows from the wreckage that, even now, illuminates the shoreline. he glances at shelby when she takes his hand, obediently opening his palm so she can tap out her message, and exhales in amusement at her laugh.

        ‘ you never know.  they could come back as vengeful spirits. ’  his free hand darts out to poke at her side, a quick tickle of her ribs and a wide, warm grin.   ‘ if they even knew what hit them.  tom says deacon and charmer put on uniforms and were in and out before the brotherhood suspected a thing. ’   if he’d heard it from deacon, max would never have believed it. but for all of tom’s eccentricities and paranoia, he’s not one to embellish the truth.

The details that drip forth are caught snugly in an awaiting net. Behind the coal of dark eyes, they make use of quick wit and casual conversation. “And such is life. Always with a sword aimed for the back, ready to strike when least expected.” A hand straightens to make a cleaving motion, punctuated neatly with a dull tap against wood. 

“That’s awful tragic, though. And messy.”

        a sword to the back, or a stake to the heart, he thinks silently.   ‘ very messy. ’  blood on his hands, blood on the sheets, eugenie dead before she even knew she’d been struck.  he’d killed before that, but never so personally, and he hasn’t since.    ‘ she was a nasty piece of work.  nobody can agree on why it ended the way it did, but... ’  he shrugs.

Idle taps against polished wood pause for a beat. “What gives you that impression?” Smooth, a touch indifferent, Alya barely has it in them to annunciate properly. “Unless you’re talking about the chance to roll one— then in that case, very much so.” And there, just at the corner of their lips is the start to a smile. 

“What’s up with the owner, though? Something bad happened in there?”

     ‘ call it an instinct. ’  and experience, though he doesn’t add that. eugenie’s circle had been half-socialites and half criminals, with a large overlap. that plus his years as a prosecuter—well, he’s got an eye for these things. max takes a sip of his own coffee and sits down across from them without asking.

“    …NO I HAVEN’T.   ” 

shelby responds, sorrowful, taking her time in making triple sure what was left of her right arm was generously disinfected and bandaged; still feeling the sting of several stims going into her bloodstream to try and stop her from bleeding out. even if it wasn’t fully there anymore, she could still feel it. 

phantom pain, they called it, and while it should shock her that she was already experiencing it; it didn’t. the poor synth was absolutely destroyed, numb even. 

slow blinks and heavy sighs aside, she swings her legs over the side of the medical bed and sat up instantly feeling herself get light headed and sick to her stomach; if not from the fact she just quite literally pushed her own body to it’s limit in one action, then from the full realization of what happened hitting her all over again.

she shook it off, wishing to not think of it any further.  “     got what they had coming to them, though. the brotherhood knew what they were doing when they even graced the idea of an attack.  ” shelby didn’t even bother to meet the other’s eyes when she continued, 

  “   they knew it was a declaration of war; just didn’t expect us to fight back.   ” she told him, flicking what little rubble was on her overalls, “   that was their last mistake, i guess.  ”

it seemed the girl was nowhere near remorseful as well, all she felt was anger and spite toward the brotherhood, if not more than how she felt toward the institute. even so, ticon was still blown to bits.

                                   ―  and brooke was no where to be found.

a tear or two fell at that reminder, instinctively shelby raised her injured arm  ― the most dominant nonexistent hand before taking notice of her mistake and slamming her other fist on the bed, irritated.

he reaches over and brushes hair out her face, his touch tender. even with the prydwen down, the hq agents have been running themselves ragged trying to keep watch & prepare for their final assault on the institute. charmer and deacon had returned to the church, reported the success of red glare to desdemona—unnecessary, given the visibility of the outcome—and then charmer had turned around and immediately left. back into the lion’s den.

ticon gone, hq compromised... the railroad was in a sad state. it was going to take a lot of time to rebuild, once everything was said and done.

maxwell sees the tears, the outburst of anger, and wipes the offending liquid away with one calloused thumb, though he says nothing about it. he won’t make her talk. instead...

' would you like to see? '   he jerks his head towards the stairs to the catacombs.  ‘ carrington’s asleep, he won’t know we’re ignoring his orders to rest.  and you deserve the catharsis of it.  they definitely made a statement; deacon didn’t give charmer deliverer for nothing. ’  tommy whispers had been a good kid, and max is glad to know that the silent-but-deadly hand-cannon has found new life.

SELF-KNOWLEDGE QUESTIONNAIRE.

rationality. you like clarity and intelligent simplicity and you get frustrated at messy thinking. this can make you seem unreasonably pushy to some, but it is actually a virtue: you are motivated by a horror at pointless effort and a longing for precision and insight into how things and people work. your ability to synthesize and bring order is essential in producing thinking which is truly helpful.

authority. you are good at making decisions; you have a clear sense of what needs to be done and what others should be doing. played out inside yourself, this tendency drives you to value willpower and self-control. you may be accused of bossiness. but acting on your desire to dissuade, restrain or guide is often appreciated by others—who might secretly like a clear direction, and some firmness.

orderliness. you love it when everything is neat and tidy: when there is a proper way of doing things, and you can tick things off the to-do list and know where everything is. so others, at times, are to you unbearably sloppy and messy. and you run into things that can’t be ordered (a child, a partner, a colleague at work) which drives you slightly nuts. but your desire for order is a good one when it is focused where it is needed and when you’re okay with a bit of mess.

@revoltraised​ said: ’ death kicked me and i kicked it back. ’

       MAX HAD HOPED THAT THE RAILROAD would never suffer a tragedy like the fall of the switchboard—hopes that were dashed when charmer appeared in a flash of blue light to announce that the brotherhood was about to descend on the church.  fewer losses this time, thanks to their woman on the inside, but that doesn’t make the deaths sting any less.

       and it doesn’t ease the pain of seeing shelby injured, either.

       he smiles reflexively at her comment, though he doesn’t look up from changing his own bandage. he got off easier than her by a mile—a few grazes, nothing that a stimpak couldn’t fix, but they don’t have any stims to spare, so he has to care for his wounds the old-fashioned way.  ‘ good to see that your wit is intact, ’  he says, tying off the bandage and finally looking at her.  ‘ have you taken a look at the flaming wreckage of the brotherhood yet? your partners did a number on that airship. ’  

          maxwell thinks he should feel some amount of guilt—there must have been innocents in the brotherhood, people who could have changed if given the chance, and he should regret their deaths—but instead, when he’d gone up and gazed out over the water all he’d felt was vindictive pleasure. the same pleasure, he realizes, that he’d felt when he’d put that energy blast through eugenie blanchet’s head.

@hitundo​ said: ’ little is known of him except his death. ’

       ONE HAND RESTS AGAINST his face, the other pressed flat against the table as he looks over the documents strewn between them.   ‘ it really is a doozy, isn’t it? ’   max was never a detective, but he learned to put the pieces together well enough as a lawyer.  if this were the old days, he’d bet on mob involvement.  he might still, as a last resort.

         a photo of the deceased catches his eye, and he lifts it carefully for a closer look.  a good-enough looking guy, smiling easily at the camera—  ‘ you know, i think i have seen him before. ’   he’s not exactly a social butterfly, but eugenie was, and he keeps in touch with her associates; mostly to keep an eye on them, but all the same.    ‘ not much of a cold case, i’m afraid: your man’s not dead.  well... depending on your definition of dead. ’  he sets the photo down, taps it with one large finger, and wonders if he, too, is considered a cold case.  the strange disappearance of maxwell finch.   ‘ he lives—or at least he lived—on the upper east side with... i think it was alexander nicholls.  or maybe francis laurent. ’   it’d been the early seventies, a rocky patch with eugenie; he hadn’t cared much about society then, sullen and frustrated.   ‘ i could never remember his name, though. ’