𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄 ( . . . ) 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁

THEY SIT ACROSS FROM EACH OTHER IN THIS DINING ROOM, the lights dimmed and a candle between the two of them. the woman had put though into this dinner, wanted to make it as personal as possible, and besides — the china looked finer in the dark light.  ❝   it's your turn,  ❞ says the vampiristic woman, napkin brought to her mouth, a gentle dab. this game has felt like an exchange of favors, of knowledge that had pooled for decades, eons and centuries. dusty knowings, the both of them carried. To ask me something. the woman finishes.

the other reaches for her glass, brings it to her mouth. red washes to her mouth, past her lips, and Seraphina mimics.

THE GUEST [ @silvreflames ] FIXES HER MOUTH INTO A LOPSIDED FROWN. " what do you know... about fairness ? " and the saint begins to feel as if she has been ambushed.

 ❝  OH. ❞ she says simply, the bottom of her wine glass returning to its place with a solid thud. the woman looks to the side, blinking rapidly; betrayal comes in a flash, though she does not quite know why.  ❝   i do not believe very much in it, when it doesn't matter.  ❞ a mumbling of words, though they sounded sure and clear. the Saint ( ! ) fashions herself into divinity, a purposeful thing without a purpose. a god devoid of worshippers.

HE DOES NOT ANSWER AS QUICK AS SHE WOULD LIKE, but her face remains cheerful as they both walk back into the building, him at a considerably slower pace. the woman presses the button lodged into the wall, calls the elevator from its hiding place above.  ❝   are you moved in alone ? ( SILENCE. A SHORT NO. ) well, why don't i have you and ... whoever over for dinner ? i've been cultivating something in my garden, i'd love to show it off.  ❞ silence fills the room. the elevator dings, the silver doors opening with a glide and she steps inside. So ?

the man [ @deluder ] fixes his mouth one way, and then another. as he steps into the elevator, words leave his mouth as a quiet omen, a quieter threat: “ i’ve been cultivating unkindness... ” the woman nods, feels the corners of her mouth turn upwards. the man continues: “ i’ve been cultivating a lot of things — i’m a fertile field, it turns out — but unkindness is the most interesting..”

the elevator halts at the first stop. the woman exits first, then wedges her hand between the closing doors, pries them open with a dazzling grin.

THE STAIRS CREEK, LITTLE BY LITTLE. the Saint ( ! ) has stopped her laugh short, a moment interrupted, though a smile remains on her face as she turns to see the woman come down. her smile is mirrored... a pulsating love reaches between them, despite the night - dark, despite the buzz of taffeta - skirt night.  ❝  hello, my sweetest thing...   ❞ whispered, husked.

the vampire - woman [ @yaburnae, ] glides across the floor slow, a withering and flickering candle flame.  ❝   I THOUGHT I HEARD YOUR LAUGHTER.  ❞ and the Saint ( ! ) allows her smile to widen, large and larger.

THE THING ACROSS FROM HER HAS A STUPID SMILE ON THEIR FACE, or what she registers to be a smile. it is a quirking of his lip that she hates, wants to rip off his face and swallow down, down, down. their response is not one she enjoys. " I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING YET. " // the woman snarls.

annoyance bleeds through like a badly covered wound. the Saint ( ! ) keeps her temper, hides her tongue and fanged teeth, forces herself inwards. the eyes close for a moment... then two.... then three... Yet. she repeats, malice burning through her mouth like a hot iron, malice spitting itself against the hardwood of her desk.  ❝   i almost don't want to give you your job. i almost don't want to pay you. i almost want to eat you alive.  ❞ the threat is not concealed. it's lain out: a budded thing, bare and naked.

from across the table, the gopher [ @yaburnae ] gives a crooked laugh that refuses to fit his mouth. " fine. won't waste my fucking time. " and the vampiristic woman is swift to move.

THE UNDERGROUND DOES NOT OPEN FOR ANOTHER THIRTY MINUTES, and she is still hammering away at the wretched thing, moved on to another corner in her imagined square. the hammer comes down quick and swift, heavy as a bat. the metal rings out with offensive revelry.

the other shop - owner, @godwitch, comes to the outside, right under her awning. What are you doing? the question is asked in a quick pace of tone, as if she were trying to expel it quicker than the hammer's blow. the vampiristic woman glances upwards, brown eyes flashing sweet. Oh, she begins, hello, neighbor! Well, I had this plan of changing up my layout. I need a bigger patio for winter months...

the woman stares at her with storm - grey eyes, the tallness of her almost, for a moment, seeming to match the Saint. her mouth opens, and hushed, even - toned and quick: " you’re not the only one who gets to make plans. "