D E V O U R.

AGITATION   //    I NEVER FORGET, I DON’T FORGET, I CAN’T FORGET             — a Rimona Kyun Mix :: listen here.

That was only the tip of the iceberg and she was giving him the look and Jamie managed a weak smile up at her from his place on the floor. “I’m fine. Bigger problems than that, I’m afraid.” And he was afraid and she was one of the few people he’d admit such a thing to. Shifting a bit to be able to sit up straight, his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled together, he looks up at one of the people he doesn’t ever want to worry, fully knowing she’s going to worry. “Ri, I’m essentially on house arrest. An’ I think if I tell ye why, ye might actually put me in the ground again yerself.” He’s trying to add humor to it, but the grin he gives her is forced.

-

There was a burning sensation that filled a deep part of her, a contained burning but a burning nonetheless, and if it wasn’t for this then Rimona might have given Jamie a hard eye roll. She stayed perched in her usual location on her favorite chair, hues snapping from the vampire who remained sprawled on her flooring and the blood-infused wine that rested on the table between them. Fingertips quickly reached for it to take a large swig as he continued to speak and reveal there was more gravity to the situation. House arrest? Was he even safe being here with her now? “Stop babbling, Price,” and now the drink was filling her insides, gaze back on him with a concern that fully gripped her. “Tell me what happened, should we be warding the place? Is someone hunting you?”

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” her voice was delicate as her onyx irises danced across the body of Anders, a curve tingling the corners of her cherry-stained lips before making her way out of the threshold of the door. She had never taken an overly mothering approach when it came to her progenies', finding it more comfortable in the realms of sibling, though that didn’t mean she didn’t worry, “What trouble have you found lately?” Because after her last little chat with Jamie, she was certain Anders had to find some, too, 

-

Retirement suited Petrichor, at least he thought so. There were parts of him that missed his immersion in the mortal world, teaching kids and watching over them but they were in good hands now. At least he believed as much. Thousands of years he’d spent devoted to the task of helping others, believing himself righteous and above it all while not allowing himself to really cherish any of the moments that slipped idly by. His brother had died, his sister not long ago now. What else would time take from him? Petrichor wandered the streets as they were bathed in the soft orange glow of dusk and thought that it was not what time took that he suffered, but what it left behind. “You own the House of Sanshin, do you not?” 

-

“I do,” and there was a bit of shock that made its way into her words, more use to those who would recognize the threading of her work rather than her actual face. It was nice to be more behind the scenes when it came to her shop image, happy to let it grow naturally on its own rather than a direct reflection of herself. That’s another reason she had others work within her shop doors— such as Harlow’s and had even moved her own work to make way for theirs. “Are you looking to inquire about a piece?”

-

The sight of her boss doesn’t worry her, but the idea of stepping on a stud or two and having them tear nylons has her pouting. It is a short lived expression and Harlow finds her back straight and her fingers clutching lightly at the fabric in her hands. “90’s Bob Mackie, that dress he did right out of school for Marilyn. Everyone described it as,” She lets go of the fabric to accentuate each word. “Skin and beads.” It is essentially mesh and stones, it would be heavy but she wouldn’t mind in the slightest. “I will comb the carpet with a literal comb Ri, I am so sorry I got carried away.” The pout is back, her long (and false) lashes practically batting.

-

“Listen—” and she cannot help the instant smile that comes onto her face any time her hues lay on Harlow’s. There was something about the fellow vampire that brought out a side of Rimona that, in all honesty, hadn’t seen the light of day since she was small and still clutching her eldest brother’s hand. The more childish, playful side that usually meant sparkles and soft pinks. “It’s not the first, nor will it be the last time there’s rhinestones littering the floors. My spring project with the Swarovski crystals?” her eyebrows furrowed slightly at the thought, hand raising slightly in protest, “Not even worth my immortality. Called a company in the morning to deep clean the whole place.”

.

“For you,” Penelope said with a small smile, reaching for the vampire’s hand to give it a small squeeze. “You can have equal share of eternity.” She liked Rimona, as she did most of her kind that had found a way to become civilized enough, to wash away the brutality in favour for something productive; like the shop that she was often found at. The rift picked up her own cup of tea, sipping at the blend before she sat it down between them, still steaming. “I find that those hiccups are never truly the cause of problems,” she noted sagely. “But rather a symptom of something larger, and more taxing upon a person.”

-

“Probably the change of the season,” she had finally settled on, yet Rimona was aware it wasn’t just that. Though the swelling of Persephone’s influence did have a lot to do with the worry that kept fluttering into her mind. With Jamie on basically lock down, the vampire was growing more anxious at the turning of the events and what might be to come for all of them. But that was all part of the gig of being a vampire nowadays and those were burdens that didn’t need to grace Penelope’s ears, “You know how the holidays are.” Fingers moved to place her tea back to her cherry-stained lips and promised herself that if they all made it through the fall season in one piece, she would be putting on quite the jingle bell ball, “Have you been finding things to fill the time? Settling in okay?”

*

The reaper considered as she often did, what life would be like if she wasn’t still bound to this earthly plain. Existing on the fringes and never desiring to forge deeper connections than the ones she had with those she sailed the wild seas with. Ink dark hues watched the sky and its for that Calypso is grateful, she never tired of seeing the way light colors swirled into darkness, ebony, sapphire and purple edged their way into the sky and it was reflexive of the sea that churned below the docks. The smell of decay wanders past and there its a faint scent of recognition, not for the vampire, but for the dead that speak of her. “You were lucky to escape the cages, the dead that weren’t so watch out for you and try to use their hand to grant you safety.” Hidden from the eyes that still track her, their spectral hands weave a shroud that will grant her protection for one day more.

-

A strange, but familiar sensation crawls up her spine before her eyes land on the bright sapphires of another. Rimona remembers it from a random occurrence with a man who came into the store to buy rings, along with her newest budding friendship with Emily. Who, in the vampire’s humble opinion, hardly seemed the type to bring death with one simple touch but she supposed even her own story was intricate. One that, it seemed, this woman was partially aware of and that would have come as a shock if it wasn’t for the endless possibilities happening in the bayside. “They were my friends, in a way,” and it is as if Rimona is right back there in the cages, watching them suffer and parish as she gave them their final prayers, “and I always carry their spirits with me— I suppose in a way it helps me to honor their sacrifices. Not forget what happened to us, though history has long taken the moment into its clutches.”

-

The witch simply shook his head, “Not in any way that was physical.” Markus had kept much of his past tight to his chest, but he supposed that there was no use in hiding himself from one of the few, if only, people that he considered a friend. “My transition was not a short one, when I was killed a witch kept me imprisoned in between this world and the next. It was then that Persephone spoke to me, dark whispers muttered across the veil. Though whether it was truly her or my own state of madness I don’t know if I’ll ever be certain. It has been said that Hektor is the only one she speaks to. She wanted me to turn others, spread the gift that I had been given when I finally awoke.”

-

Hektor. She had heard so much about him and the way he had touched so many of her fellow vampire’s lives, but never had her own charcoal hues set upon the original. A large part of her was thankful for that, given Rimona already had her fill of mad men looking to have a dog in the fight. Time had allowed more perspective all together and she was starting to see that maybe even General Ishii was touched by the cult’s influence. “Being imprisoned like that, I know it can make even the strongest desperate,” her voice was soft as she continued to look at him, “and a call from Goddess such as Persephone is very compelling.” Much like those who had called out to their own patron Gods back when she had been confined and tormented, “Was that the only time you heard from her? For all those years of service?”

*

Over a century on this earth and the valuable souls always left a mark upon her memories, Rimona had a light that had transpired even into death and it refused to go out. A gentle seeming creature who hid fangs and escapism from an evil organization, one that caused her to flee her homeland and caused her subsequent change. Evie sipped her wine and might not have been privy to the secrets that Rimona held but she knew the bond ran deep between them, she was the trusted designer that Ambrosia called upon, a talented seamstress who was patient and willing to help in the most desperate hour, not that it normally fell that way. Evie was well organized but it was show business. “I apologize my love, I really should have stopped by earlier. I fell into putting Ambrosia together and forgot my life outside of it.” The plane had descended into Corinth and she had been quick at work. “I love the idea of Seb with a needle and thread, love that he continues to pick up hobbies in his old age.”

-

It seemed as though it was fairly common for vampire’s to pick up hobbies over the centuries, finding some of the same tasks to be boring after so long. But then there were the other things that they allowed themselves to fill their time, like passions they made into careers and that was precisely what the two of them had done. “I completely understand,” and in that moment, it felt like there was no truer statement to escape her lips, “This place took months of restoration before I could even get furniture in.” Mostly because she had a vision and that included the dramatic Korean pine within its center, along with the detailing that made the boutique such a special experience. She couldn’t imagine how that would translate into a place such as Ambrosia, “Which reminds me—  I would love your opinion on the fall designs you requested. Got a few sketches.” But just as quickly as she suggested it, her hand waved it off, “For later, right now I just want to hear how you’ve been. Can I make you a little crimson cocktail?”

LOCATION && WITH WHOM : : HOUSE OF SANSHIN W / @rimonakyun​

“Rimona, be honest with me.” She was beginning to find herself at the other’s shop more often during the day, sitting off to the side as she practiced her Greek surrounded by various library books and practice booklets. It was better than lazing about all day until it was nighttime and she ventured off to a bar with Tobias or Mateo. This was a calming activity, similar to her peaceful days as a lord’s wife. It was just now she was without a husband, brother, child, or many servants. “If you had the chance to be human again… would you take it?” 

-

      Emily couldn‘t remember the last time she went shopping for clothes in a store, and she also couldn‘t remember the last time she asked for advice. She had always been too shy for that, and also figured she didn‘t need help with the usual shirt and jeans aesthetic she wore. But this store looked as if she would get lost in it all on her own, and the woman seemed very nice. “Uh… I actually wouldn‘t mind some advice. I can‘t remember the last time I bought clothes. But only if you have time, I don‘t want to inconvenience you.”

-

“I had a run in with a fury. An’ before ye get on my case, I didnae do anything, I was minding my damn business.” He’s quick to protest before she can even ask, even raises a hand before waving it dismissively. It’s something he’s trying to be adamant about, that the whole thing is behind him, that it doesn’t matter anymore. The rose Hippolyta had inked on him, it’d been meant to reclaim the moment for him, and yet it was the closest he’d come to actually dying since he’d been alive. At least that’s what it felt like, the first time something had really sunk in with that damn stake. “Good news is that Maven isny a vampire anymore.”

-

Even with all her ladylike manners, it was difficult for Rimona not to open her mouth agape at hearing he had had a run in with a fury. But she continued to listen, never daring to interrupt an individual she cared about so deeply, and tried to mentally save all her questions until the end. It’s not like he could have just texted her about this one and Rimona quickly adorned an empathetic expression, rather than one fixated in distress. He was still in front of her, still alive in some sense of the word, and that was worth noting. “That’s fantastic news, but—” she tried to keep eyebrows from furrowing, though that seemed an impossible feat, “Jamie, a fury?” Her onyx irises bore into his stormy ones and the familiarity of loss floods her insides.

“I know what it looks like.” She is covered in what is essentially a metric boatload of pale pink tulle that she’s affixing rhinestones to. It started as something small and it slowly became a robe, or a dress, a dress that doubled as a robe? Harlow wasn’t quite sure, but it was glorious and her foot was still on the peddle of her sewing machine. A mess, it looked like a mess of tulle and stones in her lap, across her station, she was pretty sure there was a couple on her cheek. “But I fully intend on cleaning up.” @rimonakyun​

-

The energy that Harlow had brought into the store was a few shades different than Rimona. An added energy that meant softer hues, more sparkle, and a play on fashion that was frankly needed within. There had also been the light within the fellow vampire’s eye as her fingertips grazed the rows of fabric options, Rimona having set her studio up to basically be an amusement park for the creative mind. Smile plastered on her lips, she moseyed up the little nook that Harlow had officially made her own and eyed the stones. It was practically a bedazzler machine’s graveyard, “We’ll be finding stud’s for weeks.” A snicker fell from her mouth as she continued to look at the mess of tulle that surrounded Harlow, “So— what’s the look?”

.

Penelope leaned against the counter, bringing her cup to her lips for a sip. It had been a busy morning and despite the fact that Micah was doing the best that he could, racing about to fill orders and clear tables, she had to do just as much to combat the morning rush. By the time Rimona had come in, she was finally gathering herself for a moment of peace, pleased to have a chance to offer the vampire a warm smile. “I’ve been adjusting well, I suppose. I’ve been busy, more so than I have been in a long time.” It was nice, there was much to be said about idle hands and Penelope was glad to be occupied— to allow her mind little space to roam. Dark eyes studied the vampire’s and she pressed her lips together, “What has been on your mind?”

-

Quite a bit, if the vampire was being perfectly honest and the nice thing about Penelope was how easy she had always been to speak with. Even if Rimona didn’t feel as though she should get into the gritty bits of her personal business— or those that were close to her who might prefer to be kept secret. “How much time do you have?” her charcoal hues fluttered to meet the other’s as a soft grin tugged at her cherry-stained lips. It followed a delicate chuckle, maybe out of some kind of nervous tick that told her she should laugh through even the most difficult of times. Which had been worse and Rimona reminded herself of that now, “But truly, I have little to report other than this annoying lump in my throat.” And she was hoping maybe there was news on the streets the vampire hadn’t picked up on yet.