out of hand and out of season

Demetrius: And so the damned descend upon the doomed, like wolves dragging sheep to the slaughter.

Caleb: [suspiciously] Very eloquent. You don’t care to join them?

Demetrius: Nor do you, as it appears. I have seen you with your sister. She relishes the hunt. You do not. Indeed, I suspect you do not care to uphold many of our kind’s expected customs.

Caleb: I don’t appreciate strangers remarking on my private habits.

Demetrius: We pass no judgment, friend, and you cannot blame us for our caution in approaching. It is a rare privilege to encounter a truly open-minded creature of the night.

Samantha: [with a slight twang] Forgive Demetrius for his endless speechifyin’. He died afflicted with Romantic poetry and never recovered. I’m Sam. That’s Brandy. Point is we’ve noticed you’re different from the others.

Caleb: And how is it any of your business if I am?

Demetrius: Imagine I told you I stand before you now with not a single drop of blood infecting my veins?

Caleb: Impossible! [doubting himself] Isn’t it?

Brandy: It’s true. We all do.

Sam: Though we don’t exactly go shoutin’ it from rooftops, ‘specially in this crowd.

Brandy: But we thought we could trust you.

Demetrius: And even lighten the burden of your existential load, if you wish.

Caleb: [dumbfounded] But… how?

Demetrius: With this, a single humble fruit.

Caleb: Is this a joke?

Demetrius: Not at all. See how it glows at the core? That, my friend, is plasma — to put it plainly, essence, life — encapsulated in its purest form.

Brandy: It’s not really blood that keeps us going but what’s in blood. That stuff’s in here too.

Sam: It tastes like shit and never quite sates your thirst, but it will sustain you.

Caleb: How can something like this exist?

Demetrius: The tree bearing this fruit comes from the Old World, though I cannot say its true origin. My maker chanced upon a withered husk in dusty Tartosan soil and coaxed from it new growth. I aimed to spread the good news of its existence, but this ilk has proven largely uninterested, too crazed with bloodlust to revere this gift of nature. Still, I have encountered enough like-minded individuals to make the effort worthwhile. Now, how would you like to experience enlightenment?

Caleb: [visibly hesitates]

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[TRANSCRIPT]

(Upstairs in the abandoned house next to Quoth Cafe, Darling and Morgan are tied up on the floor, guarded by a vampire. Low groaning sounds as they slowly return to consciousness. More vampires are talking just outside the room. One is carrying a body to an ice freezer. The other two argue over a sim passed out on the floor)

[NIKITA]: Why would we freeze her if she’s not dead? We leave her here; she wakes up later, and we move on.

[ARI]: Because then the blood will be extra fresh. Do I tell you how to eat your meals?

(Downstairs, more vampires wait, talking to each other using telepathy)

[JARON]: I don’t know why you’re complaining.

[SAVANNA]: I’m not complaining. I just want to know why we’re first on the line.  

[AUBREY]: We’re first on the line because we’re the best. And some of us have unfinished business. Ryker, how close are they?

[RYKER]: Just outside the room, in the hall. 

(In the front hall, Akira and JJ prepare for an ambush. They DO NOT have telepathy, but they have been working together for a long time)

[AKIRA]: You go left, I’ll go right. We hit ‘em hard and fast and get them to clear out.

[JJ]: ???

[AKIRA]: Never mind. 

[AKIRA]: Look, whoever doesn’t want to get stabbed should get the fuck out now!

(Meanwhile, in the cafe next door, Vlad and Cora are sitting at a small table, enjoying their coffee and cinnamon rolls)

[VLAD]: So, given your previous romantic entanglement, what exactly would you say is Akira’s trauma around control?

[CORA]: I…what? I’m not going to answer that.

[VLAD]: Fine. Can we talk about your gun? I’m interested in getting access to one.

[CORA]: Why do you need a gun? You ate like 30 witches. 

[VLAD]: 36. 

[CORA]: What even are you?

[VLAD]: Bored. Do you think Akira is forcing me to sit on the sidelines because he wants to break up?

(Back at the abandoned house, the fight continues. Vampires swarm both JJ and Akira. Aubrey leaps through the air, JJ growls as he tackles Savanna, and Jaron runs to her aid. Akira fulfils his promise, drawing out a knife and using it to stab Ryker in the neck)

[AUBREY]: Incoming!

[AKIRA]: Maybe you didn’t hear my announcement, shithead. Or maybe you just like getting stabbed in the neck. 

(In the cafe, Vlad and Cora continue their conversation)

[VLAD]: It’s not that I’m not allowed in the weapons shed, it’s that I need to prove I’m sane before I can access it again.

[CORA]: I don’t think you could ever prove that you’re sane.

[VLAD]: Exactly what I said. Bloodvein claims he gets messages from aliens, and my mother doesn’t stop him if he wants to take a machete for a spin.

(Fighting continues at the house. Akira gets the jump on Savanna after JJ knocks her over. He stabs her in the mouth with his knife as she tries to call for backup. Ryker is in the corner, clutching his neck, panicked gurgles escaping as he waits for the injury to heal. Meanwhile, JJ is trying to hold off Aubrey and Jaron, who have taken a tag team approach. He manages to get one good hit to Jaron’s jaw. Vlad and Cora are still in the cafe. Neither has touched the sticky buns, but their coffee is nearly gone)

[VLAD]: I think one of my biggest issues is that I’ve only had sex once, and I didn’t really like it. The sweat? The breathing? Ugh.

[CORA]: Vlad, I'm begging you. We do not have to talk about—

[VLAD]: But Alice and Akira have unlocked something in me, and now I fear that horniness is going to kill me.

(Cutting back to the house briefly, Jaron has tackled Akira to the ground and is working on getting the knife out of his hand. Aubrey has also brought JJ down and is teasing him as she tries to get her fangs into his neck. Ryker’s throat has healed enough for him to shout for backup)

[JARON]: I told Markus I never liked you!

[AKIRA]: Feeling is mutual. Get offa me!

[AUBREY]: Come on, JJ, just one little bite. I know you have a thing for blondes.

[RYKER]: CODE RED! IT’S AKIRA!!!

(Back in the cafe, Cora wishes she could disappear from this conversation)

[CORA]: I…I don’t think you can die from horniness.

[VLAD]: Well, I can’t really die at all, Cora, it’s a metaphor.

(Upstairs in the abandoned house, the other vampires have gotten the message and are discussing their next move, given the identity of who is attacking downstairs)

[JENNIFER]: Holy shit! Did he just say Akira? I miss that asshole.

[NIKITA]: I don't. Come on, let’s wrap this up. I do not want to hear Markus’s mouth about his precious baby.

(At the cafe, Vlad is finally getting under Cora’s skin in a bad way. They finished their drinks and moved to the couch area. But when he pushes too far, she storms out)

[VLAD]: Do you find the unresolved sexual tension between you and the wolf frustrating, or is that just your kink?

[CORA]: What? I’m not…we’re not…that’s none of your business!

[VLAD]: I think if you fucked you’d feel better. Plus, he seems stable. Take it from me, when you’re unhinged, you need a man who will put up with your shit.

[CORA]: I am not gonna sit here and listen to this.

[VLAD]: Storming off does nothing. I have a deep and unwavering commitment to my friends even at their worst. 

[CORA]: How can we be friends? We just met, and I don’t even think I like you. 

[VLAD]: I would never let a petty thing like your complete disdain for me ruin our friendship. 

[CORA]: Whatever. I am not unhinged. 

[VLAD]: You’re voluntarily helping your ex-boyfriend and acting like the sight of him doesn’t fill you with rage, even though you tried to get a dragon to kill him. 

[CORA]: I’m not acting like I’m not angry! I shot him in the stomach.

[VLAD]: For rage reasons?

[CORA]: No. Because he was being annoying and endangering others. 

[CORA]: Rhygo was mad on my behalf. I paid her not to kill him, because it wasn’t all his fault. I knew what we had wasn’t real.

[VLAD]: Then my point stands. Emotionally speaking, you’re a mess. Fuck that werewolf and let him become the perfect counterbalance to your volatile nature.

(Nikita and Jennifer make their way downstairs in the abandoned house. Chaos awaits them. JJ argues with Nikita and kicks her into a wall. Akira stabs Jaron in the eye. Savanna is out cold. They shout until they get everyone’s attention)

[JJ]: It was one date. And I don’t have a thing for blondes.

[AUBREY]: Two! We went on two dates, you jackass!

[NIKITA]: ENOUGH!!!! Everyone, stand down.

[AKIRA]: Fine. Not like this was a real fight anyway. Ryker’s in the corner, crying like a little bitch, grabbing his stomach. I stabbed you in the neck, jackass.

[RYKER]: Shut up. You conjured a knife, you cheatin’ ass motherf—

[NIKITA]: Grow up, Ryker. And don’t accuse the fae of cheating. Akira, you and the pup agree to end this fight, and we all walk away now.

[JJ]: Really, Nikita? "Pup"? Come on!

[JENNIFER]: That’s what we call you if you can’t survive a third date with Aubrey. Now, Akira, are you taking the deal, or are you gonna fight us for the mortals?

[AKIRA]: What? I don’t give a shit about a bunch of sims. Take your meal and fuck off. I got things to do. 

[NIKITA]: Same old Akira. Hope the Devil’s treating you well. You can always come back home, you know.

[JENNIFER]: Yeah, Markus would be delighted. We’ll give him your regards. He misses you.

Ben (he hadn’t been B’Ollithiranon in a very long time) tosses the phone down and slides back on the bed. He lied to Parker. Not about Sulani—the end for his friend was coming, but they still had time to travel. He lied about Melisandre. She might’ve been the worst creature he’d known in all his long life.

Although “life” was kind of a misnomer. Ben wasn’t alive because he couldn’t die.

No god could. 

He lets out a dry laugh at the thought. The gods petitioned the Divine for the chance once. The Creators, though, were adamantly against it. The dead belonged to the God of Death, and no god could belong to another god. The imbalance of power would unmake the world. 

They did not mention the imbalance of power that already existed by their own action. 

They were so eager to make sims, so enamored of their mortal creation that they did not hesitate to let the oldest of the gods create more beings. Spellcasters, werewolves, vampires, fae, mermaids, and everything in between wreaked havoc at first. In searching for the right tool to force the gods to rein in their progeny, the Divine Creators landed upon death.

Every living thing dies, they decreed. Even supernatural creatures with their long life spans or immortality could be welcomed into Death’s embrace, could belong to it. But gods did not live. If they faded, if they were culled or forgotten, then gods did not get death. 

Gods got nothing.

The message was clear: control your spawn, or they will go where you cannot follow. The message the gods absorbed was to paint a target on Ben’s back. 

The most egregious part was that necromancy was a near-useless power when Ben was young. Death was for clearing out the harvest, and resurrection was for bringing it back. He had been a gardener, not a god.

Although no one was a god at first. Sims and Supernaturals came up with that. When there were only a few beings with enough power to do the impossible, it made sense to call them gods. But in the old tongue, the dead one that no one speaks anymore, the word for “god” didn’t even exist.

In that language of Ben’s youth, when there weren’t just a couple like him, but hundreds of thousands; they were called Made. Premade, if they were very old. 

Existence wasn’t a curse then. That came because of the war. 

Ben was a child when it happened; he’s sure of that. He can remember Somnus, the God of Sleep, snatching him up and fleeing a burning tower. But even Diego, as Somnus now called himself, couldn’t recall what the tower looked like or what the war was even about.

The Divine Creators had broken apart the very essence of time and space and wove a new set of circumstances. As a result, the Made and the Premade like him—the ones that endured—were left with memories that functioned like half-finished autobiographies written by someone who was largely incoherent. 

The Divine called it culling, but that was a pretty set of syllables to hide the horror. In the new timeline, the world was similar but also different in ways the Made and Premade could not articulate. If there were less of them, if there were buildings missing, or rituals gone, no one could confirm it. The loss they felt was an unnamed placeholder. 

Now, it had been ages since that first timeline—that first world. It was hard to know how many he’d been through. Hundreds? Thousands? 

Once the world was full of gods, and now there were just under twelve, with a few demigods and aberrations thrown in for good measure.

Some timelines, they avoided each other completely. In others, they were so driven by rage or ennui that they created any number of horrors. Hence, the plagues and the Dark Ages and their most recent monstrous achievement, Operation Eternal Flame. 

What a mess this existence was. 

Ben lets the dark thoughts wash over him a little while longer before he hauls himself out of bed. He heads for the kitchen to grab a barley bale or six.

Sober was no way to endure an endless existence. 

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