#silkeared

the vampire couldn't say they felt very useful lately, but they were trying to. it was a strange feeling for them, not having all the answers or knowing where to find them. sasha wasn't good at doing nothing though. the junkyard had become their candy store, trying to find what they could, make some newer things for the town. being incredibly strong is probably their favorite thing, carrying a few pieces that might have been too heavy for them when they were human. ❝ do you mind grabbing that?, ❞ they call from behind a mask that works to block some of the blood smell that remains, head tilting towards their getaway part rolling away. ❝ you can just plop it right on top of this pile, ❞ there head motions to their arms.

she's back sitting with her mother again, watching her with the younger version of herself some twenty-ish years ago in portum. it's where she goes every time she sleeps. at least the nightmares before the attack stopped. maybe that's what they were warning her about. she'd wake up too soon to figure it out. but here, adelaide could live in this dream, where she could sing and see her mother. it didn't matter her mom couldn't see her. that's enough, addie. not her, again. adelaide wasn't sure who she was but she was a buzzkill. the hybrid ignores the voice and starts to follow the pair into the house. don't be stupid, addie. open your eyes. and so she does, immediately regretting it when reality sets in. but then her eyes focus a bit more, taking in the figure sitting beside her. having not noticed she was awake yet he looked deep in thought or something. adelaide tried to remember her list, those hurt and worse that she kept forgetting. apparently some were getting annoyed with her constant questions every time she woke up. but she hadn't seen anyone that knew fletcher yet. and now she could check him off. he was alive, okay. her hands reaches over to his as she sits up and she gives it a hard squeeze to keep her jaw from clenching in agony, ❝ ey, ❞ the h sound never quite gets out, voice hoarse for multiple reasons.

Ester couldn't really fight, nor was she fleeing. Like any good reaper, all she knew was the art of death, to take somebody's hand, offer them a wilted flower and take their soul to some higher power. She had seen bloodshed, and she had seen wars and massacres and unjust attacks on the innocent many, many times in her existence. But never had she been the one to bleed.

Ester Madani wasn't human, and she never had been. Her name wasn't a gift from a loving parent, but an oath, a promise to be a guiding star to those who needed her. Her surname wasn't an heirloom, but a trinket, taken by someone in the first real community she ever found. Ester was sure she'd never bled, that she'd never suffered, that her experiences were wholly in service of a divine purpose. And it was a purpose she was still trying to fulfill, even as an unfamiliar white-hot blade pierced her palms.

Her scream is visceral, guttural and piercing, a sharp, scythe-like noise that wasn't quite animalistic, but something else. The scream of a non-violent divine being that hadn't even registered that she could hurt in such a way. Tears flow freely like wine from a goblet, just as the blood pools on the ground and something through her entire being. Something... poisonous, holy, hot and horrifically painful.

Head all a blur, she registered woefully little — the solidity of a wall... or was it the floor? A ghostly figure, and... fabric. It was hard to see, hard to sense anything, and all she could focus on was the squeezing sensation against her hands. Was that... Ender?

"Is this what it feels like?" she asked softly, each word between thin, difficult breaths. All the deaths she'd seen, and Ester had truly never come close.

hansa had been watching the ghost for about five minutes. when she wasn't helping people pick out things, it seemed like ender was. what she really wanted to do was walk over and tell her she didn't work there but instead just let's her eyes do all the talking ( to the back of the ghost's head ). the annoying thing was she knew she'd like her too. she had her own ender once upon a time and the familiarity made the gorgon both nostalgic for having a friend like that, and sad when she thought of one of the backstabbers she accidentally killed. maybe ender finally feels hansa's thoughts but the gorgon let's her glare soften when ender turns towards her and meets her gaze. ❝ hold on, i have some new old stuff to sort through. ❞ they leave and return with a box barely a minute later. ❝ first pick if you want. ❞ a nice gesture said with zero emotion.

"Ugh, thanks for coming along. I swear this place is a feckin' scam, 'cos I practically live here at this point,"

Íde spoke while lazing on the bonnet of her hearse, one hand nursing a cigarette while the other tapped out a rhythm on the surface below her. It was, perhaps, a little funny, considering that the paint job chipping was also somewhere on her list of shit she needed to do to fix her trusty vehicle, but it was lower on the list anyway. And secretly, she'd grown pretty fond of the stench of petrol and fumes and whatever else was actually here.

"Dunno how long we're gonna be waiting for them to look at it though. You wanna talk song ideas or whatever? Gig locations? Cal'd probably let us play the Old Haunt if I pestered enough,"

adelaide could practically hear her friend's voice in her ears, telling — no, demanding — she not waste being dressed up. ender helped her pick out the dress she was using for a night singing, but the night was still young and it seemed silly to go home. most decisions she made were on a whim, going with how she felt. and it was a good enough reason for the woman to go see him. the door opens and whatever was on addie's mind vanishes when she sees fletcher's face, mouth lifting into a smile. ❝ hi. ❞ even with the few inches her heels give her, she has to press into the balls of her feet to place a kiss on his cheek. ❝ i hope it's okay i just came by. i wanted to see you. ❞ wearing her heart on her sleeve came easy. just saying the thing; whatever it was in that moment. ❝ actually, i wanted you to see me. ❞ an admission that comes with a warmth starting to spread from her cheeks.

"Why's there gotta be something wrong for me to eat an entire family sized tub of Neapolitan ice cream by myself? Did you ever stop to think that maybe for once, that means there's something actually right with the world? That maybe this is celebration ice cream and not my life is falling apart ice cream? It's summer. Since when is it a crime to have a sweet treat? And so what if I cut my own bangs two hours ago and dyed my tips pink? I happen to think I look very cute. What? You don't think it's cute? Why are you looking at me like that? Stop looking at me like that!"

"Jesus feckin' Christ, I didn't think there'd be this many people,"

Was she having doubts? Maybe. But in Íde's defence, she'd been in Portum for a month and in this band for a quarter of that time. Enough time for a couple of rehearsals, but not enough time to settle on an actual, proper band name. Enough time for a setlist, but not enough time for a warm up gig at the old haunt, or something, with their newest member.

They were on in five minutes, and it really seemed like that time was going to be filled with nothing but explicative and nervous Irish rambling from the pacing medium. Perhaps later she'll laugh about it, about why and how she'd ended up agreeing to the one situation that was going to make her lose her cool in public.

"What if my ma's in the audience? Or worse, what if she starts having ideas? Or if we're absolute shite and can't go out in public again?"