watch another angel die

"You're already a natural," he says. "Lead them away from the group. Into an alley, an empty room, something like that. Then, I'll handle the rest." Saying it aloud, he begins to second-guess if Maki would really be okay with a look at vampirism separated from the fantasy.

“To you, maybe. I mean especially when you’re already hungry.” Maki almost rolls their eyes at him. Almost. Despite all their constant back-and-forth, he’s never actually fed from them before. Not even once. Not even when they asked – several times! Maybe they had gross-tasting blood or something. “Whatever, I’ll figure it out. You’ve done this like a million times before anyway, right?” They untangle from him slightly, just enough to drag him out the door by the arm and into the darkened streets outside.

they open their arms wide to embrace maki in a hug, swinging from one side to another briefly before letting them go. "i have been here and there — sector nine, to be specific, but a lot of travelling between different sectors to get to know more people." jude cannot help but grin wide at maki's words, lips opening into an 'o' in a somewhat of a dramatic expression of surprise. "they won't even snack? what the hell?" snacking was one of the most regular ( and fun ) activities they did back when jude was a cook with him— and they cannot fathom why someone would refuse. "what's wrong with them?" these words are hushed in more of a whisper, assuming they are likely to be around. "that's like- one of the best parts of this job." which is why jude has a tendency to forget eating nowadays, as they are not constantly around food as they used to be. "do they have a mutation that makes them hate snacks?"

Simone raised an eyebrow at her explanation, ❝ Uh-huh... ❞ It was certainly nothing someone in their right mind would do, looking for toxic puddles to throw themselves into. ❝ Why? ❞ That sounded a bit judge-y, so Simone rephrased it. ❝ Why were you trying to do that, Maki? Is everything all right? ❞ They said they were alone, which meant that whatever, or whoever if any, prompted their failed attempt at...whatever it was, they were elsewhere. Most likely in the city, without a care in the world. That’s what assholes always do. They don’t care about the people they hurt, only that they’re okay. ❝ Yes, you are, ❞ Simone rose back to her two feet, her eyes wandering to her scout giving her the thumbs up while still reading his comms through a tiny screen on his right arm. They were safe, the ones they were looking for. She heaved a sigh, ❝ A scavenger team called in for help. Something about a pack of winged wolves. Looks like the other team found them. How about we get you back in the city and make sure you’re all right, all right? ❞

“Winged wolves, huh?” Normally something like that would’ve piqued their interest immediately but now… It all seemed pointless. Like it’s just another typical Tuesday. Tomorrow they might spot winged boars, now that’s something to gawk at. Really, they're just tired of being disappointed. “You sure they don’t need backup? Sounds like a lot. I can find my own way back.” Maki points at himself. “I’m very sturdy, I’ll have you know. Maybe I’ll even get lucky with the puddle thing.” Maybe he could will it into existence. The mass mutant mix-up happened out of nowhere, right? Maybe it could happen again.

"No," he grumbles back at them (all of his shirts are the same shade of charcoal since it goes best with his uniform, but he decides to spare that detail). "I go to the gym, spend time with Ed, take walks around the city. What do you do? When you're not breaking and entering or damaging other peoples' property, anyway."

Kombucha. It seems that he’s learning a lot of new words today. With Dottie’s permission, he gingerly plucks the apparently spiked kombucha away from Shroot’s nubby little hands, much to his dismay. Jacob sets the game near the sink, eyeing the "air-fryer" with an uncertain gaze. He figured out how to use a communicator in a few days. Surely he can figure this thing out, especially with Dottie's help. “I don’t know… I stopped counting a long time ago.” He admits with a scratch of his head. “But I’ve never had kombucha, I don't think.”

Umi closed her eyes, pressing her hands against her chest. Around her eyes, her psionic energy manifested, visible only to those with the same mutation. Why was someone wandering around in the woods at night offering help? She furrowed her brow, tilting her head to one side. Something about that thought did not feel right. Feel. Right. Did she always feel thoughts? Didn’t it usually just... She shook her head. Now was not the right time to overthink things. ❝ I wasn’t, ❞ she responded out loud, eyes still closed, hands still pressed against her chest. ❝ I was just wandering out here to clear my head, ❞ Umi explained for reasons she didn’t know herself. ❝ Plenty of things in there that need clearing, ❞ she added, a brief chuckle escaping her lips. Then a more serious expression taking over her face, her hand reaching out to nothing in particular. ❝ Why are you hiding in the woods at night? Are you hurt? ❞

Jacob’s thoughts go blank for a moment before he frowns. Can you… hear me? He almost feels silly testing it out as if the stranger hadn’t just started speaking to thin air just a few seconds ago. Whoever she was, she doesn’t seem to hold any ill intentions. His grip loosens around his machete. I live here. You shouldn’t be here – it’s dangerous. The irony dawns on him as soon as the thought forms in his head. He’s dangerous.

"People run and scream from what they don't understand, but I get your point." Adonis stops when he mentions the camp. It's the first he's hearing of this camp within the city. Perhaps the Harsányis have begun to build a second location of their Haven, but that wouldn't simply be right—Jacob has been here far longer than they both have. "Is this physical pain, Jacob? Or emotional?" The man sits down close to Jacob and shakes his head. "Either way, know that this... camp that sits so heavily on you is not all of what you have. You own your clothes. Your armaments. Your mask. Tell me, are there any relationships you've come to cherish? Because, it seems to me, that you may own those too.

her hands are folded in front of her as she listens, with quiet gratitude to have taken some of this stranger's time. lucia expects either a complaint or compliments that she needs to unveil to reach their true thoughts. it's neither of those, which would be a surprise on it's own- but the words are a bit more perplexing. "my apologies, you don't reside in this sector?" she contemplates if she has seen him before. "which sector do you work for?" having lived in sol city her entire life, confident in her navigation skills. "i can help you get whichever it is."

She heard the gasp first, the last breath escaping the upside-down woman’s mouth. Then she heard her own gulp, air hiding down her throat. Her wide eyes hesitated but she urged them on, her heart beating fast like a drum being battered by invisible sticks. Soon, they found what they didn’t want to find: her own weapon dripping with blood, what now became of the upside-down woman, and right behind her, something that seemed familiar but was definitely the exact opposite of. ❝ What in the actual fuck are you supposed to be, asshole?! ❞ Martha’s voice trembled, at least once, but her rudeness never faltered. She decided right then and there that if something gets thrown at her, a handaxe that was finally not hers, she was just going to teleport away. From another lifetime, she had a better arsenal, but after those...events, she was down to just that one ability. What she wouldn’t do to still be able to call on that demon bitch. ❝ Some kind of...failed athlete?! With a face not even their mommy would love?! ❞

He makes sure to keep his gaze steady on his victim as he swings down with full force. His mother's words echoes loudly in his mind. Make them pay.

There was death in the air. Isaiah could smell it. He was familiar with it, having been lost in its embrace for days, if not weeks, during that radioactive storm. In his defense, he thought he could stop it, he knew he could control, but something went awry. Was it because it was unnatural? Or was it because he found himself distracted, caught between wanting to save the city, its people, and just wanting? Here, however, there was no more wanting than to just get the hell out of dodge in one piece. He narrowed his eyes as soon as he heard the first scream. Isaiah rushed toward them, hoping it was but a mistake, a momentary lapse of judgment, a scare born out of misunderstanding and nothing more, wanting his own fear to be alleviated as soon as he caught sight of them again. Alas, it was not meant to be. ❝ Where is he? ❞ Isaiah grabbed the only companion that came back to him in one peace, evading what had been an inevitable collision with experienced hands grabbing the younger man’s shoulders before he could hurl himself at him. ❝ Where is James? ❞ His ally turned screaming captive could not find the words to answer his questions but Isaiah could see the truth in his eyes: They were the eyes of a man who had seen unexpected, brutal death. ❝ Where is Teddy? ❞

Hacksaw ceases his footsteps when he hears conversation, silently retrieving his bow anchored at his shoulder. They’re lost in hurried conversation, the kid being shaken to the core having witnessed the rest of his friends being picked off one by one in front of him. This time he puts little effort in concealing himself - almost daring the latter to do something about it or watch his last companion die. The masked man draws his bow, arrowhead pointed towards the less experienced trespasser. Make your choice.