#kingfisherdaze

Rox, Roxy, Haze (oh fuck, that’s his name right? no shit, what is it, um. fuuuck), Dave, Hex, uh... fuck. Is there anyone else? There probably is. I’m a terrible person.

      He finds Daze by scent, which is terrifying, it’s the only way he can find him, there’s no heartbeat to follow, no breathing. Instinct tells him to flee, but it’s easy to overcome. He thought maybe Hal had simply cut himself temporarily out of the bond for some space, but the inkblack in his head makes sense now.

“H-h-h-hhh-h-h-” oh God damn it. “H-h-h-h” stupid, idiot, terrible body. “H-h-h-Hal?” fucking finally. Hal has been moved to the bed, by David he assumes, and he moves to sit on the edge of it, reaching out to brush the boy’s hair aside, bright red and beautiful.

“C-c’mon Hal. Y-you g-gotta g-give me a s-sign her-here” his fingers curl in the boy’s shirt, tugging like a child asking its mother to wake early. Or at all. “Pl-pl-please d-don’t d-d-d-d-die p-please H-Hal I n-mm...n-need you, H-Hal” 

He shakes the boy again. “H-Hal” a pause. “M-M-Mira tal v-vez u-usted puede en-enten-der esto m-mejor? Hal, por favor, t-te amo”

He rubs at an eye, god damn it, he hates crying.  It seems Dirk has finally caught on to things as well, x can hear him in the doorway but doesn’t turn to watch his approach.

Dirk is silent for a long time, listening to x pretend like he isn’t fighting back tears. Dirk is the only one, between the two of them, who genuinely lived through a period of being in any kind of torpor state, he’s sure it’s not exactly the same for Hal, hell maybe he really is (Please God who art in heaven hallowed be thy name do not let him be) gone but maybe not.

“Have you tried offering him food?”

x’s brow furrows. “h-he’s o-out c-cold.” Dirk’s head tilts. “Doesn’t mean it’s worth a try, better than shaking him again.”

The white-haired vampire raises a hand to his lips, nipping at his wrist, small enough to bleed without being too messy, and he offers this, forcing x to scramble to Hal’s other side to keep from being in the way.

“C’mon man there’s no way you offed yourself on accident I refuse to let that be how you go.”

Carnation: If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer?

uh well

my music tastes are pretty weird so i mean

i guess muse would be cool

Poinsettia: Favorite holiday dish?

does halloween candy count

i literally celebrate two holidays and one is my birthday

Buenos dias.

Swallowing, he licks the back of a fang, his eyes, especially the lashes, are still tacky with his own venom. At the very least, the bedraggled child look had made for easy pickings. There was never any worry about what to do with the bodies because what he didn’t take Foo had. He hadn’t even known the familiar knew where he was, but he had shown up as x was leaving. The AI was grateful.

So he’s home, or, at David’s. He doesn’t really want to be here. He likes David, bless his heart. But this is not home. And x desperately wants somewhere that is home. The only thing that keeps him from dragging himself directly into bed, or a shower, is Hal’s scent. And x may look awful but he doesn’t look awful enough to pass that up.

He looks tired, dressed in a T-shirt and shorts that can’t be seen anyway because the shirt is too long and his eyes look sore and he smells sweet where he’s cried fluid that wasn’t tears, iron sharp where there’s blood on his shirt. He’s never killed anyone before. It was surprisingly easy.

Before he finds Hal, he moves to where he has a bag of things, clothing mostly, removing his now ruined one to pull on another, shaking slightly, like a leaf in early November. He checks on Hare and Dirk, sleeping soundly, and then exits the room, praying David isn’t home as he pushes the door to the bedroom open, standing there in the doorway, he wrings his hands in the hem of his shirt, which smells like laundry soap instead of blood, a too-clean contrast to the scent which still lingers on him, flesh and organ tissue, that’ll have to wait for a shower.

“H-hal, are you a-a-a-awake?” his voice breaks a little, it’s rough from crying, and he reaches up to touch his own throat. Why has tonight been so stressful?  His hands wring, worrying the thumb of one hand against the palm of another. “H-h-ha-are got h-urt.” he murmurs, unwaiting, “I sh-should h-have, ha-ve just k-killed D-Dirk’s s-s-sire wh-when I w-was th-there.” he doesn’t spite Hal for not allowing him to, he understands, but...