#kodea

Barely-tepid-again lips quivered as the vampire moved through the thinning crowd. Careful movements saw him quickly duck behind an alleyway bar’s loading area. The taste of the man he’d drank from began to work it’s way back up his throat. Bubbles gurgled in Alastor’s stomach as blood gushed from his mouth onto a dusty table. Too shocked and suddenly exhausted, he began to rest his head on the surface. He didn’t pay mind to the person approaching and offered a too-calm promise. 

Unprompted Asks - Always Accepting!

"Yeah, yeah, tastes about the same either way, whatever."

Adachi waves a hand dismissively, the same dopey smile plastered on his pallid face, but there is a shine in his eyes that shows that he's clearly got more than just an idea about his food he's thinking about. It's not often that he gets to talk about his plans without the risks of getting arrested, so he's going into all the theatrics. Might as well. Just in case those kids bite it fighting shadows and he never gets to monologue.

"Besides, the passion's in the apathy here, kid, so really you don't have any point. Sorry."

Mistletoe --- @kodea

She couldn't help staring at Osirus--or Oz, as she nicknamed him. He towered over her easily enough in height and his face, to the unassuming gaze, looked pleasantly surprised. To anyone else, neither he nor she was aware of the poisonous plant (funny how people forget this) hovering over their heads.

Mishil, however, knew better since her strange relationship with Oz cemented itself further when he became her... familiar, of sorts. At least, that was what she called him when he was in his animal form, usually a black cat.

As a cat, she had grown used to speaking to him both aloud and occasionally telepathically. To keep his image as her familiar, she had also tied a collar with an enchanted charm to it--and his namesake.

Oz was mischievous, in odd ways, and curious. He absorbed information like a sponge and at times one could forget he was Death. Literally.

In his human form, he appeared like a man in his questionable late thirties to forties, depending on how he shifted his appearance with silver-white hair. The collar she kept around his neck would manifest around his wrist; once a fawning girl had asked what that was and he'd smiled coyly, stating it was proof of ownership, much to Mishil's own embarrassment and horror.

In summary, while he could feign ignorance---stupid, he wasn't. Couldn't be, with how long he's seen the world spin on its axis.

She could see the way the curve of his mouth twitched in amusement, his eyes shining with impish laughter that made his features soften and made him look slightly more boyish. Mishil rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. ❝ Seriously? ❞

He nodded. ❝ Isn't this traditional? Or you get cursed right? ❞

Mishil stared at him incredulously. ❝ No! Who told you that you got cursed? ❞ He cocked his head, pale brows rising in mock surprise. ❝ Well, it makes sense that there's a type of punishment if you don't follow through. ❞

She scowled, watching warily as he lowered his head and beckoned her to move forward with his finger. ❝ Come come, mustn't be shy or suffer consequences~. ❞

Her cheeks warmed with her stubbornness, not liking how much Mishil felt she was at a disadvantage. ❝ Alright! Fine! Just lower your head, you're tall right now! ❞ His cheek was fine right?

God---were there repercussions to kissing death? Although given her lifestyle, Mishil internally cringed at how to many, she did flirt with death every time she took on a case. Ah, irony.

Mishil shifted forward, moving her hand to the side of his neck and leaning to kiss his cheek. Her mouth ghosted over his skin, feeling it cool to the touch before she registered the feel of firmer flesh against her lips. It was quick and chaste--and it sent her a strange tingle down her spine, but she drew away quickly when she realized he'd turned his head.

She smacked his chest, face warm and the muscle in her jaw pulsing. ❝ --You!! You moved!! ❞ What. The. Hell?!

Oz only beamed, ❝ Silly, the kiss is meant on the lips, isn't it? That's how it is on all those holiday films. ❞ He looked far too proud, studying her face. ❝ Are you embarrassed? Feeling shy? Did you feel your heart skip now? ❞

Prompt: - @kodea

The words are spoken by an all too familiar baritone; a shadow, a silhouette, and an inhuman being. She'd seen him often in her line of work, not intentionally but Death and Mishil crossed paths too many times to be considered strangers.

No... She's known death since she was a child. Since the fateful day, she'd been marked by death against her very chest, and since then, his steps trailed after her own. It had infuriated her initially, made her wary and fierce. In time, it also oddly gave her solace, an answer to where she could end the fateful day she would die. A comfort to the souls she's had to see fades away when purified.

She lay on the floor of her quarters, dark hair tinting vermilion spread out and her body covered in fresh bandages and stitches. Her last mission was brutal, yet oddly... She hadn't heard or seen him. She'd grown almost used to his hovering and random quips.

Just as she closed her eyes, feeling the familiar ache and throb of her sore body--she'd sense a flicker. A shift in her surroundings and forced her eyes to open. Death had returned, only he felt... strange.

The words spoken to her made her frown, studying his current form and features. He wasn't mocking her or being sarcastic, and yet... Something in his words gnawed at her. Stirred at something within her core and twisted her stomach.

❝ What the hell? ❞ She began, exhaling a weary sigh. She blinked slowly, the gears in her mind still echoing his earlier words and their weight. ❝ You missed me, but aren't supposed to miss me? ❞ An odd choice of words... She'd seen how compassionate and reassuring he was to those who were passing over... But could it be?

❝ It's because you aren't supposed to miss me, isn't it? ❞ Death wasn't meant to discriminate or hold favorites, right? He'd always hovered when she underwent a challenging time on her cases, and while her heart still ached... it sometimes did feel a bit lighter. Not always, but the pain wasn't as intense as before. She had wondered if it was his influence...

She didn't feel like he was exploiting her but... He never denied her any answers before. That had to be it...

❝ I can't tell if you like me or if you want to feed off my heart. ❞ Which was true. but he admitted to breaking his own rules. ❝ That why I haven't seen you around? Thought something came up. ❞ Not that it'd surprise her--and she'd been busy too. Mishil stared up at her ceiling, her golden eyes glimmering. ❝ What do you want from me? Everything that I've ever had is gone---and you know why. So, what could you want from someone who has nothing? ❞

All she had now was a beaten body, a shabby room, and her weapons. She had no family to give. No friends. No peace. Her heart was a storm of discord. A thought that made her shut her eyes with a sigh. ❝ And if its a fight you want, I'm in no condition for that either. I couldn't even make it to bed as I am now but that's fine. Floor's comfy with a rug. ❞