#sacredrots

"Your whole family is fucked, Fenella."

The manila folder hit the tabletop like a punctuation mark.

"Like one big circus."

Danny Victor leaned back in his chair, mug of steaming coffee cupped in hand. Hours he'd spent on the phone over the last week shaking down authorities for records, seeking old newspaper articles, and connecting with journalists active at the time until something of a cohesive summary of just how fucked @sacredrots's family was could be compiled into the folder sitting between them now. The indigo shadows carved under his eyes were easily chalked up to the amount of work he'd done. ( And absolutely nothing else, of course. ) What was sleep for a journalist? It was as elusive as the answers one sought.

"You're embroiled in a deep web," he continued post-sip of scalding caffeine. "You sure both of your parents are guilty? We can't spin it that one was manipulated by the other? Paint some redemption arc for them that could transfer to you."

the  blade  presses  against  the  side  of  his  throat  as  high  as  she  could  reach,  which  wasn't  all  that  high;  from  that  angle,  she'd  be  lucky  to  even  get  some  skin.  so  he  leans  forward,  letting  the  blade  slice  through  to  give  her  a  drop  of  his  blood  as  an  oath  to  his  word.  his  mouth  parts  and  he  cants  his  head,  as  though  to  kiss  the  sickly  sweet  tone  off  her  lips.  "  –  i'll  be  the  perfect  gentleman.  "

         her   head   lays   acros   the   other   girl's   lap,       blonde   curls   spilling   ruthlessly   over   her   thighs   while   serena's   rose   -   red   face   is   pressed   into   her   jeans.           she   hasn't   felt   like   wailing   yet,     not   like   she   thought   she   would           —         there's   just   a   hole,     an   emptiness   while   she   waits   for   the   arrangements   of   richie's   body.           mrs.   tozier,     minus   the   man   who   gave   her   his   name,     and   minus   the   man   that   saved   both   of   them.

         all   at   once,     altogether,       like   they   always   had   been.

"   oh   sugar,   that   man   is   poison,   and   believe   me,   i   know   a   thing   or   two   about   poisonous   men.   i   ain't   got   a   protective   barrier   around   my   ranch   for   nothin'!   "           —          @sacredrots

         he   is   poison,       isn't   he   ?         but   she'd   asked   for   it,       mouth   wide   open   on   her   knees   praying,     begging   for   it.         just   to   be   with   him   forever,       because   one   lifetime   didn't   feel   like   enough.

         richie's   life   had   been   too   short.

         she   wraps   her   arms   tighter   around   herself,       rabies   dog   tags   held   tight   in   her   right   hand.         what   does   she   do   with   it   all,       with   this   eternity   she   has   now   ?         she   had   spent   so   long   defending   rabies   from   others,       but   now,     even   she   is   left   with   nothing.

         ❛       i   guess   that   would   keep   him   out,     even   if   he   did   want   to   come   back…     ❜

"What do you mean. . .?" The command hits like a drug. Disorienting, dizzying even; pushing them to a corner of their mind. Aoi knows to run. To push against this magic. But it's already taken hold. What she can do is find counters.

Vampire; needs blood to survive. Vague memories of lectures don't help. The smell might be their blood. She's never asked a vampire what it smells like or it's taste. To them it tastes the way blood does to any non hemovore: Metallic and acrid. Nothing worth trying again. Wait --

It's the cane, isn't it? It's always the cane. No one believes the cripple can throw a punch. And they're right. She can't. Not with her fist; with her magic however. . .

"I don't know who you are, or what you are." They turn to face the being. Her cane seemingly shimmering and shifting in size as they haul it over their shoulder like a baseball bat. "I don't have anything of value on my person. So you'll be disappointed if you're wanting to walk away with treasures. But since you're looking for a fight? I can oblige."

In an instant the atmosphere slows. Water within it crystallizes. The ground hardens with ice and everything looks like a winter scene. Frost coats her cane as she widens her stance.

@sacredrots liked for a werewolf one-liner for fenella