#fullcfspirits

the art of domesticity / “ stop worrying , you look perfect . ” // @fullcfspirits | accepting.

She was beginning to wonder if the worry was written on her face, more than she’d originally imagined.   More than she’d thought and realized,  too,  and a small hand rose to touch her cheek as though she’d be able to feel it.   Instead, though, all she felt was her skin, and in response to herself she rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh.   “I think you just might be a mind reader,” she mused with another giggle.    “But thank you,  I appreciate the sentiment.”  

before he’s finished speaking, her hand is finding a comfortable position within his, fingers laced together. the grip is used to pull him closer, practically attaching herself to his side. not overly obvious but enough. “what kind of ex are we talking about here? are we being petty or protective?” she doesn’t even know him but she’s more than happy to help when its needed. plus free hand holding. who’s gonna say no to that?

The sun was setting over Los Angeles, and the blond Nephilim girl just stepped out of the donut shop, carrying a bag of late-night snacks - the night promised to be long on a patrol and one should ALWAYS be prepared for any food emergencies. Demon killing was hard work that DEMANDED a lot of sugar, and Emma was ready to silence anyone who dared to disagree. She turned around the corner, heading toward the empty alley, where she could climb the rooftops unseen to watch over the city panorama. She made it only halfway there, coming to an abrupt stop, her awareness rune burning her skin like fire.

She spun around gracefully, holding the paper bag in one hand while her other unsheltered the sword that was strapped to her back. The flash of demon fire hit so bright that it blinded her. She slashed her sword left and right, and once it made a contact with the fire demon's skin, it turned into a smoke. The creature hissed, trying to distance itself from her blade, she move forward, not giving it a chance to back down. She thrust the Cortana into its chest, creating a blast of smoke and demon inchor splashing around - and then she FELL.

At first she thought that she simply lost the balance under her feet, but when the bright, blue light closed around her rising from the smoke - a feeling of terror rose in her chest. She did not know how long time had passed, but once her knees finally hit the harsh pavement, she was breathless. The demon inchor had burned holes in her clothe, her face and hands covered in blood and ichor, her long, blond hair was tousled. She reminded an angel that had just fallen off the heaven after the gruesome battle. Actually, it wasn't far from the truth, after all she had an angelic blood running in her veins and she did just accidentally fall through the thin fabric separating two parallel dimensions.

Emma slowly lifted her head up, adjusting her eyes to a new light and froze once she noticed the emerald green eyes STARING at her in shock.

❝Fuck.❞ Emma cursed before recollecting herself and extended the crumpled up paper bag, that she was still miraculously holding, toward the handsome stranger, giving him a Hollywood worth smile. ❝Donut?❞

there are all manner of things she might have expected to find in the bathroom,   but the host of the party halfway out the window certainly hadn’t been among them.   “   come here often?    ”   she asks somewhat drily,   one hand still on the door’s handle.   before any of the girls behind her can flock into the bathroom to check their makeup or use the facilities,   she closes it firmly,   clicking the lock for good measure.   turning back to him,   her head tilts with evident intrigue,   leaning against the door now as she considers him.   this is the most interesting thing to have happened all night.  it also gives her an excuse to avoid the crowd outside the doors for a moment   ---   a welcome reprieve,   for once.   

cleiona bellos,   the golden princess,   known for partying and enjoying every last bit of pleasure that could be had as a moroi royal,   loving every last shallow bit of her life,   hasn’t been feeling quite so enamored with it as of late.   her family’s passing,   her sister’s illness and her father’s sudden death,   has left her as the heir to a title she’d never wanted,   responsibility she’s never been interested in.   and even in these moments when she should still be able to let loose and have some fun,   there’s an undercurrent of frustration to it all.   her so-called friends hadn’t cared so much in her time of loss,   though they’re eager for her to return to the social scene.   and so this opportunity to hide out in a bathroom,   hopefully focusing on someone else’s issues for a moment,   sounds like a great deal to her.   “   skipping out on your own party?   didn’t your aunt teach you any manners?   ”    the teasing words are accompanied with a smile,   brows raise in invitation for the full story.