#des.

the last posts from my sideblog before deleting everything, compiled here because i'm a weenie who didn't want to reblog them all at once.

“Can I come in?”

  This late in the evening, the little unit is softly dark. Lit, only, by the strident flicker of one of the pale orange candles set on the dresser. Newly lit it seems - she's still in the process. Des turns as the question floats in from the hallway, surprise lifting her eyes. But—-

Des was rarely seen outside of the bar, but when she was -- she was probably getting coffee to prepare for whatever night lay ahead. It certainly wasn’t the most exciting of lives, but she really didn’t care. It was her life and she enjoyed it. Going back to her apartment and seeing Az always ended it and after everything that had recently occurred, knowing he was safe certainly eased the chaos in her mind. She had also recently begun seeing stray feathers around.. but that was something she was going to leave alone for now. Make Az think she didn’t notice.

Her hand was clasped around her phone with visible interest in what was on the screen, but her attention was grabbed by a familiar name being called out by the barista. Emery. She had known him through Az and it had been a minute since she had last seen the two of them together. 

What was it about Des and taking banshees under her wing? She didn’t really know, considering she had never seen herself as a caregiver of sorts. Yet, when she had met Dana and Lorna, she connected with them both. There had been another recent addition to that group, Tex, who Des most certainly was excited to get to know better. She was happy to be a voice in town to listen to them when they needed it, but one who would also go to bat for them. She couldn’t help but think of her grandmother in that sense: whenever Des had needed someone to help her, learn to be a better banshee, she had been there. Every single time they came around the bar, Des couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort that she didn’t usually feel around many people. If she could create a better space for them during their time here, Des wouldn’t hesitate to do so. Not that she was really that good at admitting it.

When Lorna took a seat at the bar across from her, Des had just finished throwing out another student and was not in the best of moods. Regardless, she couldn’t help but smile at the other banshee anyway. The last thing the woman would have wanted was for Lorna to think that she wasn’t happy to see her.

This was why Des really fucking hated having soft spots. They caused her to care. When she cared, she lost people. There were very few people who mattered, but Az was something else. The woman barely ever cried anymore, barely ever gave a sign that she wasn’t the strong woman everyone thought she was. The badass bartender. Yet, when she had been told that Azim had been hurt she practically broke clean in half.

Being with Callum during the whole thing had certainly been an interesting experience. Using whatever was nearby, the who had managed to outsmart the Strigoi and had barely made contact with them. Outside of a couple scratches, she had somehow managed to get out surprisingly okay. Not that it mattered to her anyway, right now.

“Thanks for sticking around.”

  Des’s smile pulls. It’s more mischievous than generally expected of their den mother. She’s the more reserved, the more intentional. This one, though, it slips on like she can’t quite stop it. Amused, rather, at the idea there’s any sort of world or reason in which she wouldn’t have. In fact.

  “Get used to it,” she hums, still doting on that oh so rare impishness. “I think you’ll find you’re stuck with us, now.” Some more than others, certainly. But crew is crew. Home is home. The connections have begun and even though they might not all be in the fairest or friendliest of beginnings, they’re still there. “So many strings...” Des says, feeling that if anyone is going to understand her thought of it, Mazie will. “You’d have to undo it all to go back now.”