#t1meaway

They all were despite the inherent chaos and impulsivity of the dark. She went to class, to study, to coffee. Irial got to see her at the exact same time every week. They got to chat or at least exist in the same space. From how many books went missing from the house he wonders if this is the first time in centuries the other fae got the chance to read. Niall's schedule has been so consistently unpredictable enough he'd believe no regent had time for it. The old chair he'd tried settling in with tea and a novel mere days after inheriting court had become dust under his ass. Presumably the Dark version of spontaneous combustion.

"Are you out of textbooks?" It's not an official college affiliated bookstore nor is it normally on her itinerary. Thus he can technically plead ignorance to knowing she'd be there as if guards hadn't told him she was diverging from normal path. He has no real right to be this concerned about such a minute detail but given Leslie had neglected to tell them about the last problem-it's warranted. And unfair that only one of them should be restricted to phone calls. The only upside was it forced space between two fey. He has an excuse for being there. Smaller more local shops didn't have educational material on child psychology. A gag read he was just waiting to show was his half serious plan for cohabitating with individuals older than him who still behaved like children. Niall had already squirreled away more serious texts slightly more befitting the situation. Some of it had been helpful, some he'd used to hit people with.

neteyam rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to sigh at his brother's antics, though it was difficult. he understood the pressure lo'ak was under better than most, wasn't he under the same burden? didn't they share the same struggle? ❝ i didn't realize my name had changed to no one, ❞ he said instead, feigning surprise, ❝ i'm always the last to know anything around here, ❞

𝐐 .▐ ❛ 𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 , 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 . ❜

𝐀 .▐   ― there's a void , that burns right through her . . . to sent your 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 out in to the world ; to have the aching , beating . pound of flesh expunged from a chest , [ && * ] 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 in to skin [ && * ] 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎 . ( her boy . her , 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 , boy * ! * ) 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 , to never feel it again . stolen in the night , leaving her aching rib cage an empty shell . from the moment she knew , felt him . she knew she'd never be the same .

it sits now . . . an aching , 𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 wound . ripped from flesh never healing . it bubbles now , septic .

❝ you call what you did ' 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 ? ' ❞

pure venom , baths a tongue . 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚝 , 𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 * ! * spewing out over lips , stuck between teeth . a bitter balm to an 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 . she laughs aloud , a 𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑠 cackle . a blissful , breathless hysteria .

all that begging , 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 . ' not now ' , ' please , my love ! ' , ' just a little longer . . . ' ( 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 . ) relentless fists [ && * ] knuckles against the ground , beaten bruised [ && * ] bloody . tireless [ && * ] fruitless . the earth was long 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍 .

spleen settles amongst a marrow . ( 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 , in the end it's easier to swallow wrath than 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘 ? ) how could her ' 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 ' be so cruel ?

𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚛 ,

[ && * ] to call her act 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 ? . . when , all she did was take . tearing a muscle from a chest , a staircase of ribs collapses with nothing to cradle , leaving her hollow .

a biting bile rises , swells of saline . saltine [ && * ] savage , swell . 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 struck at the back of throat . biting [ && * ] clawing , 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 * ! * silver streaks swell from eyes . unbound , they flow freely .

❝ no . you did what you always do , you 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 ! ❞

IF AGATHA IS DEATH'S SCAR, then perhaps rio is agatha's open wound. pulsing, piercing in time with the beat of her heart, always aching, seeping until the guts of her have spilled out and fed the earth beneath them. or maybe she is the blade, flaying her open again and again, helpless against the cut. agatha hadn't intended to cross the bridge previously uncharted with a torch in her hand ― but she is already raw, eyes closed against the persistent pain in her temple. mrs. hart, alice, lilia. bodies bodies bodies. and still, death needs more. that used to be their dance, after all. she never used to feel so sick over it. she shouldn't be. this was how it always was, always will be. ( maybe she is tired. it's only been, what, a day since the hex broke? )

the breath that expels hisses from her teeth like a particularly disgruntled cat, peeling her eyes open to meet death's cognac gaze: there is no storm of magic to surge inside of her, but the blue of her eyes darken all the same ― grief has always been a splintering shard of glass upon her face, poorly veiled by rage. nicholas is the sword pierced through her heart she cannot seem to remove. “ you think i care? ” her laugh fractures where it is meant to mock, fingers digging harshly into the hollows of her knees. “ even if i had a say in this -- ” you can have him. the words freeze in her throat. billy, removing the influence of the hex over her mind. billy, wide - eyed and curious, eager for her knowledge. billy, sometimes looking at her like she might not be the most wicked woman on this earth. billy: a being of spontaneous creation, son of the woman who caged her.

STARTER CALL ( accepting! )

         the welcoming sound of familiar engine rattling up her drive is pleasant, halfling leaping up from her perch on the sofa and opening the front door with a grand dramatic reveal; she’s dressed as a witch, strands of purple tinsle weaved through her braids and sparkling in the evening when they catch the lights. her costume is complete with a full witch gown and matching hat ( all handmade of course ), hip jutted out to help cradle the pumpkin with a cat’s outline for it’s carving, the lit tealight flickering with the movement. ❛ —-trick or treat @t1meaway, what you dressed— ❜ all silly glee and laughter is soon wiped from halfling’s very being, pumpkin hurriedly placed in the door way as halfling sprint to meet her friend easing out of the car—- it looks like the girl is either haemorrhaging or has been given the carrie white treatment, ❛ —-brooke sweetie, where you bleedin’ from? where’s it hurt? ❜

continued from here with ARO from t1meaway!

         pools of deep umber take in the vampire with awe ( halfling wonders in the back of her mind whether it’d be appropriate to ask for an autograph or not ), hand once held gently in his palm falling back to her lap; much like other vamps, this vampire in question was a black hole of mystery—- whatever thoughts he possessed were sealed to him and him only, halfling’s guard shot straight back up once nothing but calming silence filled her mind the moment she attempted a peak into his own, and not for the first time since entering this strange new world, sookie can’t help but wonder if this is how people felt meeting or hearing about her—- she stifles a giggle, just barely stopping herself from childishly thinking “if you can read my mind, jump on that pole,” ❛ —-of course not but—- ❜ a pause, nervous swallow as halfling asks herself whether it’s really worth getting her throat torn out just to find out whether the talks and tales of the missing tourists of Volterra are true.

         if halfling didn’t have her grandmother’s voice in her ear, reminding her to keep her back straight and chest up she’d have happily rested her chin on her palm and simply gaze at him—- it’s not often halfling finds herself with a vampire so… human ( not that she’d ever tell him that; she likes her blood inside of her ). mention of the synthetic blood draws halfling’s attention momentarily, falling on another vampire taking a swig with an almost pained grimace. she’s lucky, she supposes, as bill had been a lot more… delicate when explaining the comparison of the synthetic compared to the real deal. shiver walks through her, halfling unconsciously tugging her jumper’s sleeve further down to hide the exposed flesh of her wrists ( had halfling known eric’s special guest, she would have stopped home to change out of her uniform before racing over ), ❛ —-if you don’t eat.. what do you eat? ❜ question is regretted the moment too fast words leave her mouth.

STARTER CALL ( accepting! )

         halfling is far from unused to being asked for favours—- favours for eric, for bill, for queen sophie-anne, hell even her own brother asks for favours; despite the near constant favours sookie finds herself carrying out ( the near constant mess and tangles she finds herself weaving through, trying her absolute hardest to not let a loop catch around her ankle and pull her down down down ), it still sends a chill down her spine, especially when the favour is so vague. hands smooth the one photo she was allowed of the girl; a beautiful girl ( one she could swear she saw not too long ago promoting her newest flick, or being delicately loaded into an ambulance—- it’s all the same in the city of angels ) halfling acknowledged, and hated it—- if there was one thing that beckoned the vampires just as loud as fresh blood, it was the rare humans that even by their standards caught their eyes. halfling’s stomach is heavy and twisting as she eases out of her car and into the now closed bar, making her way through the supposed near empty venue ( besides of course the various vamps that litter the shadows, no doubt waiting for either human to slip up, allowing them to give the joint a particularly messy "paint" job ). she supposes it’s meant to reassure the pair of them.

         doesn't take her long to navigate the path to the backroom, to plaster that same-old smile that stretches her face when her nerves feel just a bit too pinched—- pleasantries are short, quick and easy as halfling queries exactly what her job is before she’s lead even further into the belly of the beast—- the girl, maxine halfling is now told, is even prettier than the photo captured, and it’s with restraint that she doesn’t allow that same painful smile to twist ( it’s admittedly not often, despite sookie’s usual company, that someone’s looks are enough to rattle her ). nervous smiles smooths into something she hopes is warmer, more comfortable as halfling perches in the empty seat across the table scattered with empty glasses and a full ashtray, fixing @t1meaway with kind eyes, ❛ —-maxine is it? my friends here, they said that you may have seen something— you’re not in any trouble, they just wanted me to go over some details with you if that’s okay? ❜