extra crispy

It said something about their dueling personalities that Fabian could be speaking about his demonic pursuits in that strange, new colorless tone of his all whilst calling her sister in the same breath, and yet only one of the two remarks could prompt her lip to curl in disgust. She’d never understand how someone who bore all the same features as Gideon could inspire such profound depths of loathing within her. From the unruliest of dark curls to every last freckle dotting their noses, they were the spitting image of one another, and still, Bellatrix couldn’t reconcile their differences. Where she drew strength and a sense of stubborn fondness in Gideon’s presence, she consistently came up with nothing short of a number of piling resentments where Fabian was concerned, as though she were gathering bitterness from an infinite well of rage that was eager to spill over in chaotic fashion. 

Oh, but it did spill over. It still is.

Bellatrix released a small dribble of smoke from her mouth, expression souring. “There’s not enough holy water in the world to wash my hands clean, brother, I can promise you that. I’m just curious to know what you get up to in the odd hours of the night. You don’t usually bury your dead one day and have them slinking around for souls the next. I like knowing what I’m up against.”

Their eyes briefly met as he turned to glance her way and she cocked her head at the veiled dig. “Is that a threat?” Something like laughter rumbled in the back of her throat as she carelessly flicked ash off her cigarette and took another lazy drag, “… I’d have thought the humbling experience of choking on your own blood would’ve taught you a lesson or two on how to curb your tongue. Suppose it’s true what they say, then. You can lead a horse to water – or in this case an ass – but you can’t make the damned thing drink.” 

There was a distinct grimace of distaste that appeared upon his face as Fabian brushed a palm over the dusty wood the end of one of the pews before settling down upon it and kicking his feet up onto the back of the one in front. He glanced absently across the aisle towards the blaze of her cigarette before regarding the vaulted ceiling with a wrinkled nose. “Oh, I’m sure you’re terribly curious where I go and what I do and who I talk to and how much they know — you always were such a paranoid thing. Paranoid and jealous and messy. Forever wanting to know mine and my brother’s business as if it was any concern of yours.”

 He sniffed, recounting with stark clarity the hauntingly gruesome details of his death like a vulture picking over the carcass of something that used to be a person, remembering vividly the bubble of blood in his throat and more than anything the surprise. He’d been surprised, in spite of it all. Somehow that particular fact still grated upon him.

“There are far worse things in hell and on earth than your talents with a corkscrew,” he replied after a pronounced silence, the heel of his shoe thumping erratically against the pew before him as he considered the quandary of meeting quotas and council agendas and a brother who’d come back wrong even by the shoddiest of demonic standards. If only Hell had done the job properly and stripped away his familial loyalty with all the rest of his cleaner edges he might have left behind this particular worry. And yet. “You’d do well to remember that, Trixie. My business is my business. If you insist on following me every which way I go people might start to wonder why.”

It was demotivating to think her life had come to this. Trekking through No-Maj territory at the height of the witching hour, boots tracking in mud past the church’s threshold from every charming little detour Fabian had sprung on her in hopes of shaking off his pursuer. When she’d realized St. Augustine’s was the end goal, Bellatrix had very nearly put a stop to their elaborate game of cat-and-mouse just for the sake of being able to hex him from behind for wasting her time. 

She planted herself at the edge of one of the pews with a huff, dark eyes scouring the church in loaded contempt. For all their talk of saints and holy sacraments, the place was nothing more than four walls and a roof she could easily splinter to pieces with a lazy flick of her wand. What on earth her adopted nuisance thought he would find here was beyond her, though considering recent developments in the newfound demonic sector of their household, Bellatrix suspected he was in the market for something prayers couldn’t buy him. 

Her head angled in Fabian’s direction just in time to catch him mouth an eloquent ‘fuck off’ her way. She ignored him and settled back in her seat before treating herself to a healthy serving of blasphemy. “Don’t bother with this one, Father. He’s from the Satanic Temple off 43rd. The only guidance he’s in search of is the way towards your coffers. We’re funding a trip to go burn down the Vatican next month. Care to donate?”

The speed with which the priest turned on his heels and ran for the back of the church almost made this whole venture into hallowed ground seem worth it. Almost. Shaking her head, Bellatrix swiped a cigarette from her cloak and lit it with a measured spark of wandless magic. She took in a slow inhale of smoke, noting that she and Fabian were alone now, save for the marbled saints presiding over them in judgement. “Didn’t peg you for the religious sort. Turning over a new leaf, then?”

Watching the priest abandon his post like he could smell the brimstone wafting off of him was an exercise in patience that Fabian had never really had to spare, however much his soul had been reborn in the lifetimes he’d lived out down below. It was a novelty, he supposed, to feel all those age-old resentments and pettiness well up inside the person he’d used to be. Almost like being human again. Still. 

“Demonic business,” he replied with a wrinkle of his nose as he continued to approach the altar of lit votives, rolling his palm through the flickering flames like if he turned the skin back to him it might be puckered and charred. Bellatrix’s obsessive paranoia regarding his comings and goings was something he’d come to bank upon lately — the merry chases he’d led her upon through the French Quarter a fair testament to exactly how much pettiness had made it through the fire to return with him. “That priest belongs to us.”

He sniffed, prodding a finger directly into a flame and watching it flicker around it. The burn, however much he wished for it, never came. “Or he will, soon enough. I see you’re following me again, sister. Here for confession?”

Even that mocking title seemed to sharpen on the knife’s edge of his tongue. A glance over his shoulder seeming designed to instigate, the irresistible urge to prod and poke at insecurities and hair-triggers one he couldn’t seem to keep in check. He had little reason to want to, particularly when it came to her. “Or are you looking for a good exorcism rite, just in case I decide I need to avail myself of some sins.”

rocky — the white buffalo ( fabian )

Now he's got two feet in the graveHe dug himself too deep a holeNo dragons left to slayDevil squeezed out all the hopeOnly one God to obeyReaches down and takes a holdNow he can't get away

albatross - foals  ( @unyielding--black )

You got an albatross around your neckAround your neckYou got a pile of broken wishbones under your bedAnd you got a hungry green eyed monster that you keep fedAnd it keeps on coming over it wants you dead

the funeral — band of horses ( all )

I'm coming up only to hold you underI'm coming up only to show you wrongAnd to know you is hard, we wonderTo know you, all wrong we were

beggin’ for thread — banks ( @entrepreneur-prewett )

Stooped down and out, you got me beggin' for threadTo sew this hole up that you ripped in my headStupidly think you had it under controlStrapped down to something that you don't understandDon't know what you were getting yourself intoYou should have known, secretly I think you knew

 souls a’fire — matt corby ( gideon )

Oh he got poison in his lungsAnd it will become undoneSome sort of freak that feels no painWalk through the fire like it feels like rain

the great escape — woodkid ( gideon & fabian )

Now we're finally standing up to the skyLook at me, boy, so what is fate to sayHow things are gonna turn out now?Can't you see that we're dead until we wake up

i of the storm — of monsters and men ( @unyielding--black & @entrepreneur-prewett )

If I could face themIf I could make amends with all my shadowsI'd bow my head and welcome themBut I feel it burningLike when the winter windStops my breathingAre you really gonna love me when I'm gone?I fear you won'tI fear you don't

diggin’ up the heart — brandon flowers ( gideon & @entrepreneur-prewett )

His little sister hugs the tin manTony, she's grownAnd she's pretty, in her little black dressHe's digging up the heartTo know the price he paid

loyal like sid and nancy — foster the people ( gideon & @unyielding--black )

Yeah, you're walking in stilettos, but your nose is bleeding outI've been running from the devil, but the devil's on my backI'm decreasing, took a leave of absence from the warIf the wall is coming down, then we gotta press the pedalGot my hands up in the air, I'm saying I can't breathe

family — noah gunderson ( fabian & @entrepreneur-prewett )

And someone lies bleedingSomeone got violent and did not think twiceAnd I watched you my brotherMaking a fool of the moon tonight

the comeback kid — lindi ortega ( fabian & @unyielding--black​ )

When you see my face you’ll think you're staring at a ghostWell you better be scared if you see that I'm getting close'Cause I'm comin' back around and there's justice to be servedAnd baby what you get is exactly what you deserve  

judgement day — stealth ( all )

Lately he thought that he might even miss Hell.

It was a curious thought.

Still, as he approached the altar and it’s sea of flickering votive candles, his hands twitched, an elaborately carved cross sat amidst them. A shuffle of feet upon the paved floors sounded as he continued towards the altar before a voice: “Can I help you, son?”

Fabian’s head turned and whatever the Priest saw he mustn’t have liked, if the way he recoiled was any indication. He paused, smile breaking across his face beneath the vivid red of his eyes as they faded back to a less remarkable blue. “I’m sorry if I startled you, Father — I found myself in need of a little guidance tonight.”