#mystvcs

Waving  down  Ade  after  seeing  her  walk  through  the  door,  a  smile  blooms  on  Cameron's  face.  Having  been  in  Portum  the  last  year,  it  was  hilarious  to  see  a  familiar  face  from  outside  of  it  even  if  they'd  run  into  a  fair  few.  The  invitation  to  eat  was  one  that  they  knew  not  many  could  pass  up,  Cami's  favorite  way  to  bribe  others.  “Have  you  been  to  Rosie's  yet?  The  cook  here's  HOT  but  he's  annoying  as  hell.  Makes  one  of  the  best  burgers  I've  eaten  though.  And  I've  eaten  a  ton  of  good  food  all  over  the  world." 

Though Cyrus had been in Portum for two, maybe three months at this point, he'd spent most of that time living out of his boxes and suit cases. But now that the last box was finally unpacked, he felt like he could do with sprucing the place up a bit. Or at the very least, injecting some life into his otherwise antique living space. Cyrus was a collector of sorts: art, statues, books, musical instruments. He was a sentimental Reaper.

Unfortunately, he had been collecting for hundreds of years. That sometimes meant his house looked like more of a museum than a living space. But he was working on that. He approached the rather familiar looking florist, offering her a friendly smile. "Hi. I don't know if you can help me — but I've been told my apartment looks rather...well, for lack of a better word, dead. I uh, don't know the first thing about flowers but I do know I'm going for...hard to kill."

Perdita didn't like to go there too often. In fact, she'd only been once in the time she'd been living here, probably due to the fact that she wasn't a witch and didn't feel a particular need to venture out. It wasn't personal, really. Or even a matter of distaste. You'd be forgiven for not quite knowing the artistic Otero sister was in town, or not even knowing her at all. She didn't go anywhere she didn't want or need to.

But there's a second time for everything. Recent events pushed her into a sort of curiosity, or maybe it was an underlying concern, the sort of fear that would slowly chip away at her if she didn't at least try and do something about it. Which was why she ventured through the fog and the downpour to a business she never usually had any business visiting.

Once she was within the shelter of the doorway, the gorgon shook a shower of raindrops off the surface of her white cane and back onto the street. She didn't bring an umbrella with her, which probably explained the soaked raincoat, but the truth was that she simply didn't own one. When was the last time she'd ever needed it?

A pungent dose of incense hit her instantly, and she visibly choked while adjusting to the weight of the room itself, a room that felt, to its very core, magical and kinetic. But one scent stuck out to her, something like jasmine from across the room. It was almost familiar, but not one she could properly place.

Perdita was fine. She had to be fine.

For the sake of her family, she had to be fine. Not just one, but two of her sisters... their fates in her hands at the bar. Pulling the weight of Rory through splutters of dense smoke, the bitter taste of it practically burning her tongue. The lingering sensation of her older sister's fingers, trembling against hers in some silent communication, just begging for them to hold on, to keep breathing, to get to safety so that Perdita could get back to Juni.

Juni... fuck. Thinking of her was dizzying, sickening, horrifying. Tasting her own blood while feeling for Juni's ribcage, for whatever life could be found there. And make no mistake, she was still alive, but Juniper was the one who Perdita was determined to always protect. Was it an older sister thing, an Otero thing, or just a Perdita thing?

The pain of the moment cut far, far worse than the agony in her hand. Oh, it hurt, and she'd practically ripped her lips to shreds in trying to withhold all evidence that it hurt. But an arrow through the hand was insignificant compared to what the others had experienced, to what the others had experienced under her watch.

Bandaged to look more like boxing wraps than mere gauze, her bad hand maintained a tremble, while her good hand had recoiled into a tight fist, practically bristling with energy. She wanted to punch something — anything — just to put the anger somewhere, and she honestly still might. If her mood got any worse, maybe.

But the gorgon was pacing. Back and forth and back and forth and back again, she knew the layout of her front room by heart, and her heart pounded in her chest as she paced around her front room. The rhythm was odd and frantic and poorly performed, but it was all she had, the one thing keeping her from running off and tracking down every person who had anything to do with it.

She wanted to be with them... she needed to be with her sisters so badly, every waking second of the day. She couldn't help but feel like she'd let them both down, and maybe she had.

There was a reason why Sunni had a key to their place. For times like this, right? The dragon was practically family, after all.

But what she wasn't sure of was how long he'd been in the house for. Seconds, minutes... it took her a moment to pick up on the familiar scent that reminded her so much of the spa, or remember the frantic message she'd sent as soon as the horrors had truly ended. All she knew was that he was with her, and her sisters were not. Not yet.

She stopped in her tracks. And for a moment, she stood there, not quite acknowledging his presence, but not... ignoring him either. It wasn't like she could see Sunni in here, after all, and what little eye contact they could make would be futile, and certainly not intentional on her behalf. But what could she do? When the gorgon opened her mouth, all she could manage was a pained sort of sob, and it wasn't because of her hand.

[ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ?

Acting indifferent to his antics lol You can spit on the ground he walks on, or sing him praises, it doesn't matter to him so long as you're being attention, Angelus is shamelessly needy. Starving him of attention will set him off like a grenade. So long as he's getting a reaction, he'll be satisfied. He can't stand the idea of being ignored, though. His ego is way too fragile for that. That's the only thing that really makes him lose his temper in a way that shows.

There are other sensitive points, though, of course. Prying into his past or asking too many questions. Saying you love him. Calling him certain nicknames. Authority figures are giving him orders. Except all this won't get him to show any emotion when it happens, but rather return the cruelty tenfold. He's a 'don't get mad, get even' kind of guy. He'll smile and look like he's enjoying it. His sadistic side probably is. That doesn't mean later he won't do something horrendous like slaughter your whole family, though.

[ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ?

Cyrus has been in love so often, he has started to wonder if he has confused love with lust. It never seems to work out, though he's a true romantic. He would like to be worthy of love! But realistically, he thinks the nature of his work as a reaper will forever prevent him from truly being loved by anyone. Perhaps love is more suited to mortals.

The thing with dream walking was that every reaper seemed to experience it differently. For Cyrus, dreaming was more of a physical plane than it was a series of thoughts and sensations. Though sleeping was arguably the easiest way to enter a dream, he sometimes entered the dream world through meditation. Only this time... he had done neither. Something was very wrong.

Cyrus could remember working at his desk. He could remember lifting his head to watch the fog finally clear through his open window, peaks of light and sunspots tearing through his vision. He even remembered Paloma, who had rubbed against his leg and hopped up onto the window ledge with a slightly disgruntled meow. And then...well, and then there was darkness.

He walked a familiar corridor — though lined with intricately carved golden doors, it was dimly lit and there seemed to be no end in sight. Behind each door was a dreamer. The deeper one went, the more difficult it would be to wake up. But for a reaper as seasoned as Cyrus, he had little difficulty navigating the dream world. He soon found himself drawn to a particular door and entered with a small bit of hesitation. Only question was, whose dream was this?

Most nights at Spell & Bourbon were spent playing music for the speakeasy and it's patrons. The reaper had an in with the owner and often played for free whenever he liked. For Cyrus, it wasn't about the money. He had plenty of that. Though he was well worth it as a skilled musician, he genuinely just enjoyed playing music. But tonight, after a very long shift at work, he thought he might put away his instruments for the night and stop in for a drink and perhaps some company.

The last thing he expected however, was to see a familiar face from the past. After ordering a red wine, his eyes focused on the angel sitting at the end of the bar. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. It took the reaper a moment to actually process what he was seeing — it had been so long. "Do my eyes deceive me? Hanael? That can't be you." His eyes lit up as Cyrus was taken back to a time where he was much younger, a little bit foolish, and definitely very passionate.