#notporcelain

footsteps quicken as dusk approaches, the lone figure stumbling through empty streets, racing against the shadows creeping up on him as another day bleeds to an end. the boy, too, is bleeding. if mateo closes his eyes, he can ignore the chill in the air and pretend that it's a hot summer day, the fabric of his shirt sticking to skin because of sweat and not blood. but he's always been too much of a realist for that; he's survived hell once before, and he'll do it again.

nausea makes the world spin, and he’s forced to stop, leaning against a lamp post that no longer serves its purpose. fingers find the gash at his side, vision momentarily blanking at the white-hot flash of pain–– it almost feels like he’s just been stabbed again. it’s through sheer force of will that he manages to breathe through the pain, forcing his feet to move once more as he tries his best to ignore how slick his hand has managed to become in mere seconds.

he doesn’t believe in miracles anymore, but if he did then surely this counts as one. the huge glass building comes into view and he’s yet to run into a member of the undead, but instead of letting the relief wash over him, he only moves faster, convinced that his luck is due to run out anytime soon. so mateo's not really surprised when he suddenly finds himself staring down the barrel of a gun, although there’s something akin to concern colouring the guard’s expression despite the hostile welcome. good enough, he thinks.

‘ easy, tough guy, ’ he slurs, trying for a grin and hoping it doesn’t look as pained as he feels, ‘ i’m not looking for trouble... just wondering if someone could stitch me up–– ’

the adrenaline has run its course, and suddenly he finds the ground coming up to meet him. there’s an eruption of yells, and he thinks he hears the guard calling for the medic. he can make out the sound of rushing feet before someone drops to their knees beside him, and something about the woman seems familiar, except his eyes can’t seem to focus and most of his vision has gone black anyway. she’s the last thing he sees before the darkness pulls him under, and somehow, he gets the feeling that he’s in good hands.

Elijah had seen Mariella leave the compound, as much as she tried to avoid his sight, but he had a few more hours left in the tower before he could leave even if he wanted to check on her. He was actually just climbing down when he spotted her in the treeline and decided to just wait for her to approach, thinking it more casual than running out to her and revealing that he may or may not have been a little worried. It wasn’t his fault she was so small and soft, yet she insisted on going out on her own. He leaned against the tower until she was a few yards away before calling out, “Hey, Mariella, long time no see.”

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the skies don’t listenthey don’t know the sacrifice i’m givingcause i don’t wanna be the ghost of mei wanna be like you

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the hopeless peoplestuck on the insidethey’re getting tired of breathingbut we will fight for the feeling

cause their eyes can seeonly dark cloudsbut i can seeis a light behind

10. does your character work so they can support their hobbies or use their hobbies as a way of filling up the time they aren’t working?

2. what was the best thing in your character’s life? 

being taken in by anthony, without a doubt. obviously, what happened with his birth parents was both tragic and traumatic, but mateo has never regretted getting out of that abusive household, even if he had to commit murder to do it. even though he’s still got a lot of unaddressed issues and traumas from his past, he did end up being relatively well-adjusted, and the man who – quite literally – removed him from his childhood home ended up becoming the father he’d wanted and needed, giving him the chance to be a normal teenager. and of course the way he got to that point of relative normalcy isn’t ideal, but he’s well aware that had he never got out of that situation, he’d be in a much worse off place now.

4. what seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character?

it’s the summer of ‘13, and mateo is fifteen, working part-time as a lifeguard at the local community pool. it’s there he meets this boy – ryan, or reed, or maybe it was rhys ? – and he’s the first person to show up to the pool that tuesday morning. i like the alone time, ryan-reed-rhys tells him, without even being asked. i can’t leave you alone, mateo says honestly, pool policy. ryan-reed-rhys laughs then, and mateo wishes he could take some of the boy’s light for himself. i don’t mind your company–– and then he dives into the water before mateo can say anything else. watching the lithe form of the boy cut through the water, the harsh june sun glinting off wet blond locks, mateo finally understands what it means to want. later, he’ll find out that ryan-reed-rhys’ lips are slightly chapped – not unpleasantly so, though – and his kiss tastes like chlorine and the faintest hint of sun-warmed coca cola.