"Hey, aint you one o' Remmick's pals? Ye mind if I crash on yer couch fer the night- or hell I'll take the floor. There's a fuckin' storm rollin' in, I smell it on the wind. It's gonna be a fierce one."
@siritheshifter
Hell, he wasn't wrong. Mabel had been skittish since that night, but she'd come 'round to them again -- mostly.
Couldn't tell if it was the young'n on the porch or the ill-tempered weather that was makin' her pull at her tether again, though.
"Ain't got a couch." It wasn't like anyone could do literally any worse than Remmick already had done to them, though she still put a hand on her hip. "Couple chairs, though. Keep your hands off the curtains an' you can keep 'em attached. Deal?"
She waited for something like a confirmation before stepping outside. Nobody had t'know this was the most spine she'd ever shown a stranger. "Ain't alone in there," she said, as if it wasn't halfway to make sure he behaved. "My husb'n an' I both run with 'im."
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Maybe it was something she needed to talk to a cat about.
her eyes remain dim as she steps into the cabin, the door closing behind with a soft creak. the soft brush of fur against her calf draws a a ghost of movement and she glances down to see the cat weaving about her legs. for a fleeting moment, she considers shooing it away with a harsh nudge of her ankle, but instead she sighs and drops onto the middle of the couch.
arms fold across her chest as her gaze lingers on @siritheshifter lazy tail flicking back and forth. fingers begin to tap along her sides, restless, as if trying to beat back the static in her head. with a small exhale, her posture shifts forward, a faint grin shaping through the weariness.
❝ privet, milashka . . ❞ she whispers, tone soft and low, trying not to go back to that scowl when her hand extends with a coaxing half-curl of fingers. ❝ come so i can pet you properly, yes? i have missed you. ❞
(assist) : one muse finds the other so tired they’re having trouble standing and helps them walk somewhere to lie down
Paddy and Siri
@siritheshifter
exhaustion … sentence starters
@siritheshifter (assist) : one muse finds the other so tired they’re having trouble standing and helps them walk somewhere to lie down
It wasn't a secret a few of the men within the SAS lacked sleep, nor was it a secret the reasons they lacked getting proper sleep given many if not all of them shared similar ghosts within their minds that made themselves known often. Paddy was one of them, though it hadn't been as bad as Regie's ghosts than it had been today - when Siri found the commanding Officer not only exhausted but more than likely drunk by the smell of the alcohol, on top of the empty beer bottles around him.
He wasn't in the best shape even when Siri tried to help paddy continue walking towards his Tent - the rest of the men no doubt asleep or at least in their own tents at this point "can fuck'in walk me self yous know" he grumbled though would have hit the ground had siri not had a hold on him
The night air was cool against Tess’s skin as she slipped quietly from her home, careful not to wake a soul. Her first stop was the graveyard, where she knelt at her mama’s resting place with a fresh bouquet of wildflowers in her hands.
She placed them gently, brushing dirt from the stone before bowing her head, whispering soft words that were more feeling than prayer. Though the closeness she longed for felt miles away, the simple act steadied her heart, as though her mama’s presence lingered just enough to ease her. Once her respects were paid, Tess made her way into town, boots clicking lightly on the boards of a little joint where Sammie Moore was already leaning against the stage with his guitar in hand.
“Tess Mae,” he greeted her with a grin, tilting his hat back. “I was startin’ to think you’d left me singin’ alone tonight.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tess teased, stepping up beside him. “Ain’t no fun if I can’t outshine you.”
Sammie chuckled, a warm rumble in his chest. “We’ll see who’s shinin’ when the crowd starts clappin’.”
Their duet filled the room with a lively warmth, voices weaving together like two threads cut from the same cloth. Folks tapped their boots and clapped along, caught in the brightness of it all. When the last note hung in the air, laughter followed, and Sammie leaned close, still smiling. “Reckon we make a pretty good pair.”
Tess laughed, giving his shoulder a playful pat. “Don’t get too used to it, Sammie. I like keepin’ you on your toes.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied before packing up his guitar.
They parted ways outside the joint, Tess still humming to herself as she wandered back through the quiet woods. Her thoughts lingered on the stage, the music, and Sammie’s easy laughter, until a rustle in the undergrowth snapped her from her reverie. She froze, breath caught, unease whispering through her ribs.
“Lord, this is a fool’s idea,” she muttered under her breath, every sensible bone in her body urging her to turn back. But curiosity—and that tugging in her chest—pushed her onward.
The sound drew her deeper until the dim light revealed a stranger caught in a cruel foothold trap, iron biting deep into his leg. Tess hesitated, then stepped forward, voice steady though her pulse raced. “Hold still now—I can help,” she said, recalling Stack’s lessons on snares like these.
She crouched, working the trap free with careful hands, and winced at the angry gash it left behind. “That’s a bad one,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “Bleedin’ heavy. My place ain’t far—I can patch you up if you’ll let me.”
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😗 "Pshh you're just a fuckin' goof if what ye are, can't even hold yer cups! That nurse is scarier than you mate! That's alright though, I get me laughs with ye."
- @siritheshifter
Intimidation Meme - 😗 - YOU ARE THE SOFTEST BEING.
Something dangerous flashes in Remmick's eyes as Siridean carries on. As if the shorter man has rankled Remmick with his persistent jabs, managing to hit a sore spot.
"Sure, I may get o'bit sloppy when drunk but-" There's not even a beat before Remmick snatches the smaller man up, hefting him with little effort. His claws are fully extended, pricking into the fabric of the shirt he's got ahold of while lifting him up to eye level. All of the ancient vampire's teeth are on display, distorting his voice into a deeper, echoing register.
"Best not forget what I am, lil' puca."
-and then Remmick is back to normal, easy-going smile in place as he drops Siridean back to his feet. For good measure, he musses up the shorter man's hair.
"Ain't scary at all," he chuckles darkly, the red of his eyes reflecting the low light.
bare feet stagger down the hall, her arm clutched tight to her side where deep claw marks tore across her stomach. her breath is short and sharp through clenched teeth, fresh blood seeping through each of her fingers, slicking her hand until her grip falters, leaving a wet trail down her bathing suit.
she shoulders into the bathroom against the frame as she shuffles for the cabinet, curses rasping bitter under her breath- at the pain. at the fact she can’t remember which damn shelf the damn first aid kit was in. red smears and leaves prints along as she shoves bottles and bandages aside in a desperate search. then she hears a knock echoing through the space. or so she believes. her head jerks up, anger flooding instantly across her features. remmick. she hisses inside her head, eyes narrowing. he better not have come back.
quickly her hand shoots out to the office desk just on the other side to grab her knife, and with a growl of effort, she braces herself, yanking the door open with more violence than her wound should allow. but the sight that greets her makes her stop cold. it isn't him. a stranger stands there instead; someone she’s never seen before. @siritheshifter. it was getting too late for any packages to arrive, and she was sure the pet beds for milashka were to arrive tomorrow.
the anger on her face falters for the briefest second, giving way to something laced with the faintest edge of unease. ❝ . . . who are you? ❞ fingers wrap firmer around the hilt of her weapon.
Joan laughed as she caught the young man who'd launched himself off the porch "at" her. "Hell above, Siridean!" Her words ran together when she laughed, the drawl she'd once tamped down in mixed company rearing up like Mabel on a tether when she was at ease.
"The beddin' ain't gon' catch you!"
Maybe a bit too pleased with her new(ish)found gifts, Joan shifted her young companion in her arms. Held him as easily as her husband scooped her up from time t'time.
