Dealing in Death

One of the Drakes

Xander hadn’t had a home in a long time. Not since he left his home seven years ago. He couldn’t handle the pressure of his family. They had always had a plan set out for him, finish his school and join the faction his parents were loyal to. Xander had never felt any loyalty to them though he didn’t believe in the same things. He wanted to choose for himself.

When he joined Drakes he knew that he had found his place. Sure he wasn’t high up in the organization. He may have just been a foot soldier but he felt like he was doing something for himself. He’d made it there on his own and was in a place he believed in.

Selma had never been loyal to anyone other than herself. She had to be. No one had ever looked out for her. She survived on her own and found herself in the Moccus faction. She didn’t really care for this faction war, it felt so unimportant. She didn’t even really keep the facade that she did care. But she was lucky in one sense. Being a witch, a telepathic witch none the less, made her valuable to the Moccus clan. She knew she was a pawn in someone else’s game, but she always told herself was at least a worthy as a queen piece. That didn’t mean she wasn’t on borrowed time, but it at least changed her worth to those who relied on her.

“You lost?” he didn’t look up as he spoke. He didn’t often take time off nor was he often in neutral territory, but it wasn’t often he visited his family much anymore either.As he waited for the sun to set, he hung around, seeing how life moved along without him there. He lit his cigarette, finally looking to them as he took a long drag. “Don’t mean to intrude, but you won’t find much help ‘round here.” 

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” Selma informed the other. At first she was uninterested in him, but the more he spoke, she began to turn to reveal herself more. “But what about you? Are you lost?”

Phoenix chuckled as he downed his third drink. He heard the familiar voice and smirked as he saw the familiar face. “Well Little miss Selma. If you’re sore eyes you should get that checked out.” He laughed. “Honey it’s the middle of the day. I am here instead of those boring stupid patrols Rex always sends me on. A beer and some shots are better.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you to stay her all night and into the afternoon,” she informed him, before taking a sip of her drink. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Those patrols are pointless. Everyone in this goddamn hell hole is too afraid to even move. They all speak of tension, but I think they all just need to stretch more.” She threw back her drink and chugged it fast. “If we’re doing shots,” she said, moving her empty cup away, “then you’ve got my attention.”

Cyprien was impressed with the witch’s boldness in taking the apple from his grip. He rolled his eyes and caught it with ease as she tossed it back to him. He chose not to respond on the comment of him being cute, not wanting to encourage the interaction further than it already seemed to be going. He took a bite out of the fruit instead, keeping himself occupied as he watched her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of Hemlock, leaving it on the counter in ‘payment’ for the apple.

Selma wasn’t one to accept being ignored. If she wasn’t at the center of the attention, it was by her choice. “So are you the brooding, quiet type,” she demanded, before switching to a more soft voice, “or are you just shy?”

“Yes, I was told you could help me.”’ She observed the woman who was hunched on the couch across from her, and she raised an eyebrow at her demeanor. "Unless this is a bad time. I’ll come back later today if you’d like to get some things done.” Either way, she was going to find her again. Naomi could be persistent. 

Selma’s interest was peaked. She wondered who has been talking about her and who had told Naomi she could help. She sat, with a curious eye on the other. “No, this a good enough time,” she kept her eyes on the other, trying to read the situation. “What do you need.”

The marketplace was busier than Cyprien was expecting, which made him a little uneasy. He didn’t like neutral territories, preferring to stay in the Drakes territory north of where he was, but Bos was adamant about Cyprien getting some supplies for him. He had other things he needed to be doing but no, he had to be here, among people. There wasn’t much that Cyprien hated more than being in crowds. 

Case in point, someone just tried taking the apple he had his eye on, and he snatched it from under their hand, looking at them as if he were trying to challenge them to take it from him.

Selma looked the other up and down for a moment. She didn’t really want the apple that much, but the look on his face seemed to invite -- no demand -- a challenge. The witch lifted up her hand and the apple came flying into her hand. “Telepathy really comes in handy during these little games,” she cooed. She tossed the apple back to the other. “You can have it though,” she cooed. “Because you’re cute.”

Phoenix couldn’t stand the marketplace or anywhere the boss sent him. He’d always sneak off into the bar for a drink. He sighed as he downed the shot and sipped the bigger drink he had. ‘Oh thank the gods this is amazing.” He had felt his headache starting to go away. “Can always cure a hang over with more alcohol. Gods that’s great.”

“Well,” Selma cooed as she moved around from behind Phoenix and took a seat beside him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Late night drinking?” She inquired, as she slowly read his figure. She motioned to the bar tender and he brought her a drink. She was a regular here, they all knew what she drank.

Selma has never known the love of a mother. How could she? When she was young, her parents abandoned her, leaving her to die. Selma, of course, didn’t. She was always a smart girl who lied like she breathed. The lies are so thick at this point, not even Selma can knows the truth anymore. But she likes it that way. It keeps her record clean, and those betting against guessing. Knowing Selma is like living in the dark. Nothing in defined.

Kayden arrived late, wearing a new suit. His notebook and lucky pen were in his inner pocket, and he was in most aspects a man on a mission. He’d been wanting to get to Hawthorne for a good while now, and finally he’d made the move. There were layers upon layers of deception to his plan, but that was nothing new. He was sure someone in Hawthorne would recognize him, and that his fake name could only last so long anyway. 

He made his way to the open bar, mostly for an excuse to strike up conversation. While in line he turned to the person next to him. “Hey there, I’m Noah, I just came into town earlier today.” 

“And I don’t care.” Selma said fast, before taking her glass and chugging her drink. She drank it up like it was her first drink of water in days. She slammed her glass down and motioned for the bar tender to pour her another glass of bourbon. She begin to sip her drink, before noticing the other was still there. “Can I help you?”

Erin arrived pretty much at the same time as Selma. She was carrying a huge thing of mac and cheese and  the hope that no one would notice how late she was. This was her first time socializing with people in town after all. The people in obvious pain was more than she signed up for. 

“I was hoping you’d know,” she said, looking around. “This isn’t normal for town events, right?” 

“To be fair, it is kind of normal for these kind of events to fall apart like this.” She said to other, though her eyes were glued to the bodies writhing and screaming into pain. “But uh, this is, uh.” She looked around, taking the first alcoholic drink she could find and tossing it back. 

James has stepped out to have a smoke, something he picked up over the last few weeks to settle the nerves. When he came back in, things were well–dire. He looked to Selma, “Call 911, I think–I think someone spiked the drinks. I’m going to–I whatever I can.” With that he went to the nearest bystander who had fallen to do whatever first aid he could offer. 

Selma stood motionless for a moment. As the room began to spin, she reached for the wall. She reached into her purse, with a million thoughts racing. She wasn’t one listen to directions, but she almost on auto pilot. “I  uh, I hi? I uh, we need help.” she stumbled over her words as the 911 operator tried to get a grip of the situation. “I don’t know what’s happening!” She screamed into the phone, as she last her balance and fell to the floor. She watched in horror from the floor as the scene around her unwrapped itself.

“I’m supposed to be being good cause I get stupid when I drink.” He said as he sipped his water bottle. “Plus. It was becoming a problem for me.” He smiled at her. “Aren’t you the girl that overdosed a while bac?”

“Being smart is overrated,” she offered, while picking up another drink and taking a sip. She scowled again. It was alcoholic but tasted like vomit. She put it down and redirected her scowl to Dorian. “Yeah, what about it?”

Jasper couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “You what? Selma, I’wait,” He stepped forward and put a hand on her arm. “Look at me. I’m the last person who can judge you for anything.” It was true, with Jasper’s own past he had no right to hold anything over anyone else. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re one of the only people I actually give a shit about in this hell hole of a town. And honestly, I’m a little touched that you’d rig the votes so I’d win that night. It’s more than anyone else has done for me in a long time.”

She stopped and took a breath, keeping her head down. “Jasper, I’m no good,” she breathed out. “I don’t see why you would care. I’m a terrible friend. I got you drenched in blood. You could have gotten hurt.”