#depravae

everyone   has   their   secrets      /      more   specifically,      guilty   pleasures.      as   a   being   far   too   cursed   by   virtues,      vices   are   the   only   indulgences   they   let   themself   possess.      sanity      ...      stress   relief.      both   clearly   a   vital   for   someone   with   their   profession,      dealing   with   the   difficult   clients   who   tati   would   much   rather   greet   with   a   bullet   than   a   handshake.      playing   two   sides   means   having   to   watch   your   front      +      back      :      trust   never   having   been   a   luxury   the   slayer   could   afford.         “         i   see   not   much   has   changed   since   i   last   left.      i   take   it   that   you   don't   bring   a   lot   of   people   home,      zolotse,         ”         coming   unannounced   as   they   often   do      ...      already   anticipating   that   there   won't   be   any   awaiting   company   they   would   have   to   give   the   boot.      they   make   themself   comfortable   on   the   plush   seating,      one   far   too   expensive   for   any   20   year-old   doing   god   know's   what   to   be   able   afford.      must   be   nice   to   have   daddy's   money.      pupils   blown   past   oceanic   irises,      hunger   overtaking   the   blue   at   the   sight   of   @depravae​.         “         my   little   slime   puppy      —   did   you   miss   me      ?         ”

a   laugh   escapes   at   the   offered   notion.      not   a   single   trace   of   malice   in   every   staccato      &      instead         ...      in   its   place,      an   unfamiliar   fondness.      their   eyes   narrow   to   @depravae​,      lips   pursed   to   the   side.         “         you   don't   really   expect   me   to   believe   that,      do   you      ?      it's   safe   here,      you   don't   have   to   lie.      you   don't   really   enjoy   working   there      ?         ”         tati   doesn't   find   themself   particularly   interested   in   spending   more   time   than   necessary   with   any   of   the   bloodsuckers.      besides   this   particular   one,      anyway.      shared   kinship   forged   through   mutual   demusement   at   their   male   counterparts,      coupled   with   a   number   of   twin   afflictions.      the   two   are   a   perfect   example   of   finding   friendship   in   the   most   unlikely   of   places.         “         it's   a   disgusting   cesspool   of   overblown   male   ego.      neverending   competition   of   how   big   their   dick   to   fang   ratio   are.      you   can   do   better.      you   deserve   better,         ”

perhaps      ...      they   should   have   heeded   colette's   forewarnings   with   a   little   more   than   just   a   laugh.      how   bad   can   a   party   of   bloodsucks   really   be      ?      at   least   there   would   be   free-flowing   alcohol   far   older   than   twice   of   her   lifetime,      not   to   mention   networking   with   the   characteristically   scornful   bunch   often   fitting   the   guestlist   of   las   vegas'   most   infamous.      money   makes   the   world   go   'round,      as   well   as   pay   for   their   frequent   flights   to   meet   a   certain   someone.      small   talk   wears   at   social   battery   far   quicker   than   it   should   at   that   particular   night,      the   assassin   finding   themself   hiding   with   their   phone   in   hand   as   they   await   said   bumbling,      walking   scarecrow.         “         did   you   get   my   dr-      what      ?         ”         azurian   lifts      +      lands   at   man      ...      nay,      boy,      who   looks   closer   to   a   kid   playing   dress   up   in   his   father's   tailored   suits      —      laughter   breaks   out   as   tati   sports   the   first   smile   of   the   night.      maybe   they   misjudged   the   night   afterall.         “         which   one      ?      the   guy   sucking   face   with   a   girl   who   looks   young   enough   to   be   his   grandkid      ?         ”         a   scoff   wedges.         “         or   was   it   the   bad   edward   cullen   cosplay   with   the   weird   trench   coat      ?         ”

tangled   sheets      +      the   remnants   of   the   last   summer   sunset,      record   player   thrumming   the   beat   to   la   vie   en   rose      ;      the   most   romantic   love   song   of   the   last   century   even   unmatched   when   pitted   against   the   look   of   love   shared   between   the   two.      home   is   found   in   the   most   unlikely   of   places.      fitting   perfectly   when   embraced   in   the   arms   of   her   beloved,      snort   accompanying   an   amused   eyeroll.         “         oh,      yeah,      jack   the   ripper      ?         ”         with   any   other   companion,      fear   would   have   struck      &      sent   her   running.      a   fawn   finding   comfort   in   the   embrace   of   a   predator      —      sunken   marks   on   the   nape   of   her   neck   a   testament   to   just   how   easily   the   demise   of   a   poor   soul   will   be   at   his   hands      &      yet,      she's   nothing   but   all   smiles.      she's   starting   to   get   used   to   the   bite   of   the   nip,      finding   euphoria   in   letting   go.      anything   for   him.      propping   bird   bones   up   on   elbow,      lips   nearing   his   as   a   smirk   mimics   the   one   he   often   sports.      she's   picked   up   a   few   habits.         “         what   are   you   waiting   for      ?         maybe   i'd   be   a   good   sookie   to   your   eric,         ”         lacquered   digits   trace   his   burgundy-soaked   lips,      pearly   whites   nipping   into   her   own.         “         or   d'you   just   fancy   me   as   your   good   little   bloodbag      ?         ”

trust   is   a   funny   thing.      the   notion   never   usually   entertained   by   a   man   who   only   lives   for   himself.      there's   only   a   handful   number   of   people   he   trusts   throughout   his   half   a   millennium   walking   the   earth      :         all   of   which   are   employed   under   him,      at   least   associated   in   some   way.      when   he   let   her   into   his   life,      slowly   opening   the   metaphorical      +      quite   often   enough   physical   doors   into   his   den   of   rancid   atrocities      ...      he   never   thought   it   would   go   past   anything   than   relieving   stress   through   indulging   vices.      cassandra   quinn   has   become   something   of   a   bad   habit.      never   thought   he   would   actually   start   to   trust   @depravae​,      nor   even   entertain   the   thought.      it   was   supposed   to   be   a   test   of   some   sort,      one   of   his   eccentricies   that   no   one   but   him   truly   understands      —      twenty   minutes.      the   time   it   would   take   for   him   to   get   a   quick   shower,      phone   left   on   his   bedside   table      ...      no   intention   of   hiding,      the   ocassional   notification   illuminated   within   a   picture   of   her   taken   in   the   background.      that   enough   should   be   a   warning   sign,      a   hindrance,      even      ;      yet   humans   always   seem   to   disappoint.         “         your   parents   ever   told   you   it's   not   polite   to   snoop   around      ?         ”         steps   lighter   than   usual,      no   booming   echo   announcing   his   path   yet   broken   only   with   gravelly   inquiry.      arms   crossed   adjacent   to   the   doorway,      brow   raising   in   her   direction.         “         care   to   tell   me      ...      why   the   fuck   are   you   looking   through   my   phone,      cassandra      ?         ”

“         for   someone   who   doesn't   even   fucking   work   here,      you   sure   do   like   squatting   at   her   desk,         ”         he   comes   when   he   needs   something,      as   he   always   does.      all   underlying   intentions   aimed   to   keep   himself   clean   from   faults,      always   aiming   consequence   to   the   unsuspecting   bag   of   bones   called   liam   whatever-the-fuck.      the   second   he   heard   aristede   come   striding   in,      soon   followed   by   a   fleet   of   echoed   giggles   disappearing   down   the   hall   from   his   office      ...      he   knew   it   was   prime   time   to   hit   reception.         “         listen,      dipshit      ...      i   need   something.      you   kids   love   breaking   into   places   and   doing   illegal   shit,      right      ?         ”         across   the   counter   slides   photo   id,      surprisingly   rather   well   crafted      ...      showing   a   beaming   @depravae​,      under   it   pseudonym      :      fitted   for   access   to   the   sheriff's   department.         “         get   me   some   files.      anything   you   can   smuggle   out   of   with   your   skinny   little   spider   hands   under   the   name   commission.      copy   it,      steal   it,      send   me   a   fucking   snapchat      ...      i   don't   give   a   shit.      just   do   it.      got   it      ?         ”

“         i   know   both   of   you   have   your   personal      ...      differences   with   them   or   whatever   the   fuck   but   the   fact   of   the   matter   is,      we   need   someone   on   the   inside,         ”         urgency   breaking   under   hint   of   an   amused   smirk,      rather   unfitting   of   the   magnitude   of   their   crisis.      jp   really   could   have   chosen   anyone   else.      he   really   could   have.      @bludluna​   had   a   list   of   acquaintances,      many   of   which   he   trusts   far   more   than   the   demon   in   blood-stained   louboutins      —      but   upon   remembering   how   @depravae​‘s    many,      many   passing   fancies      ...      how   could   he   not      ?      it's   important   to   smile   through   the   hard   days,      isn't   it      ?      jieun   said   something   of   the   sort,      probably.      some   intoxicatingly   positive   bullshit   like   that.         “         i   don't   fucking   trust   them.      christ.      i'd   rather   barge   in   there,      cock   swinging   and   all   myself   but      ...      we   have   an   image   to   protect.      keep   the   false   sense   of   peace   and   shit.      you   know   how   it   is,         ”         there's   a   method   to   his   madness.      deranged   as   it   is,      borderlining   on   sadistic      :      both   his   best   mates   surely   know   all   too   well   of   jp's   penchant   for   theatrics.      doesn't   hurt   to   give   them   an   explanation,      though.         “         and   that's   why      ...      i   need   both   of   you   to   play   babysitter   for   a   while,         ”

whenever   @depravae​   calls,      she   answers.      hesitation   never   once   a   hindrance,      warning   signs   clouded   by   the   rose-tinted   spectacles   she   views   him   in   his   entirety.      she's   never   usually   one   to   sense   these   things      —      but   there   was   something   about   the   way   he   spoke      ;      devoid   of   the   flowery   affections   aiming   to   tug   at   her   heartstrings.      instead,      it   leaves   her   with   a   sinking   feeling.      stomach   dropping   at   how   his   tone   differs   over   the   phone,      her   ever-present   smile   replaced   with   a   worried   frown.      brows   furrow   as   shaky   hands   try   to   follow   the   blinking   dot   of   the   navigator   until   she   finally   turns   to   a   corner.      this   can't   be   right.         “         is   this   really   where-         ”         hues   blown   wide   as   she   settles   her   sights   on   carved   flesh.      body   distorted   in   ways   that   would   make   even   the   worst   of   alcatraz   shy   their   gaze,      red   coating   every   inch   of   brick      +      pavement.      this   isn't   the   same   person   she's   known   from   all   those   years   ago.      it   can't   possibly.      “         w-   what   are   you      ...      what   is   this      ?         ”         despite   all   the   warning   signs,      again,      she   stays.         “         why   would   you   do   this      ?         ”