snow.

DATE & TIME: February 22TH, 1:00AM LOCATION: Paris Streets TAG: @xuebird

And there’s no way we talk about this simply - for all the half-felt ignored things, felt still; for all the ways we call his life something that has began and ended so many times, and they all began or ended here, let them be in blood, somehow - from Elias’ mother’s womb, from the blood of their own teeth, too many times. And there’s more things than we know how to say. (Does he search for him, somehow, someway, is that why he’s still walking? Do we truly call vampires the living dead? Do we call this a melting? Or a turning to stone?)

He doesn’t assume he was followed, doesn’t assume she was here to find him at all, no, when Lee Xue Er enters the world - what he thinks of is that he recognizes her light footsteps even on cobblestone, even among cities. What he does, is that he stops his walking, but doesn’t turn around to greet her, doesn’t look at her until she’s beside him and starts walking again, slower for her pace, something natural. Words all teasing, but the old charm of his features is lost to wind, call it trust for it to be, “Isn’t it a bit late for you? Midnight’s past.”Act like they were always here together, does it feel natural too? “I can walk you, if you want it, wherever your going, if it’s not the train.” 

(Do we call say a man falling to shadows from light, unsure where he will fall, recognizes a woman maybe on the ledge? Do we just call them partners? Or friends? Do we need to say anything at all?) 

There are nights when she welcomes company, and in all honesty perhaps there is hardly a time where she doesn’t attempt to find someone in need of a friend, if only at times so she herself doesn’t have time for her thoughts to wander.

And yet there are times like this, that wandering the streets at night alone, that carries an almost otherworldly sense, similar to three or four am walks, where the world is quiet, but at one, where it is still early enough for there to be festivities heard in a distance, a knowing that being able to immerse herself in camaraderie is just a few streets away, there is the difference.

Perhaps she is tempted, how easy it is to always cater to others, to watch out for others, for is it not in her bones to do so? And yet it sometimes begs the question, of whether healing yourself first would be the greatest advantage in helping others later?

A familiar silhouette appearing does make her hesitate, wondering if it would be alright to join him, but maybe this is fate, and maybe a little company may prove to be what they both need this time. She doesn’t question how he knows it’s her, that perhaps the bond they’ve forged is enough for this.

A soft laugh, head tilts up to observe the stars visible through the clouds. “ I could say the same to you, doctor. ”

( Walk me to a world of peace, walk me to a world devoid of the pain and suffering people inflict on each other. Walk me to an understanding of myself, of knowing what the right thing to do is, of knowing how to protect the ones dear to me. An ideal destination, yet such maze-like paths to it, are there any guides to such places? )

the panic in her eyes is all to familiar, almost comforting now. thinks she should be used to it, is glad she isn’t - there’s that smile on lips that is almost reassuring if it weren’t for the promise of teeth underneath, whether red-tipped or merely leering.

“no wings - that’s cheating xue, and that means an immediate forfeit.” eyebrows are raised, smirks lopsided things. “and we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?”

small hands stop him from taking the first step, though they both know it would be easy for him to push her away - it’s what he does best, grinning - humouring her by staying, if only for a half-teasing. “and if i do? either you catch me or you tell metzger he’s down another acrobat, no?”

he shakes off her grip, hands already clawing the sides of the building, quickly climbing above where she can reach. “meet’cha at the top! that is, if you can even get there - might leave y’behind if you’re too slow now, dear xue. god knows where i’ll run to then, hm?”

(he knows, of course he does. that’s why his laughter echoes, both lovely and mocking)

What difference would it make, for without her wings she cannot compare to someone who does trapeze stunts on the regular, longer limbs and fondness for mischief only adding to his advantages.

She wonders if he does this on purpose, words that sound light, that tease, and yet seem to hit an imaginary target every time. Whether it is something planned, or whether it is just a natural instinct for him, whether consciously or unconsciously, it only serves to intensify the underlying guilt that colours her actions.

( Another, because you failed to save the first. Another, you swear there will not be, not if there’s anything you can do about it. But what can you do? )

He’s off before she can react, far above her grasp. ( Both physically and metaphorically, do you think? ) And it’s a beat or two before she moves, still afraid he’ll fall, still afraid that she won’t be fast enough again, hands wringing before she makes a dash for the stairs despite the slim margin of success.

It doesn’t help that her legs are shorter, it doesn’t help that despite being in relatively good health her stamina is woefully lacking. Trying to run up the seemingly endless flight of stairs while attempting to keep an eye out on Soren’s progress, or perhaps a falling body, doesn’t not help matters either.

And when she finally makes it to the top, she fully expects him to already be there, the lack of angry yelling in french ( to her knowledge, anyway ) making her certain the guards had not been alerted to his playing Spiderman. 

Collapses at a side, holding onto a railing for support as she tries to catch her breath, not bothering to look around, though her mind is already wailing at the prospect of troublemaking he was bound to come up with. 

“ I’m quite afraid to even ask ... ” 

As always, whenever there was a need for a vote of any kind, consensus between the cryptids always seemed to be split down the middle. No agreement had been come to yesterday night, and the ripples had yet to quiet down.

Most of the others still seemed to be in discussion about the trustworthiness of Volkov, quiet conversations filling the room, though the occasional irritated raising of voice could also be heard.

She herself had voted a tentative yes, though perhaps more out of wanting to believe in Volkov rather than a full faith in him. There were others who disagreed, who thought that Volkov’s friendship with Metzger could not be trusted, that they themselves didn’t know him at all, so how could they? And perhaps they were right about the element of risk, but if they continued in this manner, of never trusting anyone, could any progress be made?

the girl is sweet - she wants to say that xue reminds her of herself, perhaps once, as a younger, brighter thing - but she can’t.

never been so wide-eyed, naive. it is what makes her sweet. it is what makes her poison.

(acid-laced apples upon cherry-red lips and you must know, you must know how all the stories of you root back to what runs in my veins)

light fingers graze shoulders, tracing hemlines of pretty dresses adorned by pretty, soft things - thinks it fitting, smiles at her as if in reassurancing, hand resting for a moment before falling back to her side.

“perhaps a slice of the pistachio macaron cake? i can hardly choose - i haven’t had some of these since i was a little girl.” she smiles up at xue from the menu in her hands, not unkind. “pick whatever your heart desires, my love - it will be my treat today. think it a thank-you for letting me revisit such a fond memory.”

It feels like an alternate reality, that she is in the place that she has long talked about visiting with her mother, yet is with someone who is perhaps a mother figure to her in the circus, light touches as if transferring comfort, allowing her to relax more.

“ Oh, that does sound good, ” The listing gives her some pause, as her eyes continue to travel down the menu. “ Did you use to live here? ”

Her first instinct is to decline, that she couldn’t possibly accept, not when she was the one who had invited Sol to accompany her, if anything, it seemed like she should be the one who made the offer. But wasn’t it also rude to reject someone trying to do a good deed? She is reluctant, but ultimately decides that two boxes of macarons will be ordered separately.

“ I feel slightly guilty, I’m the one who asked you out, but thank you, ” She places orders for a rose religieuse, eclair and ispahan, before allowing the waiter to take away the menu. Takes a sip of the water before her before returning her gaze across the table.

“ Do you mind, sharing your memories? I’d love to hear them. ”

Not even looking at her, there’s a light laugh to Xue’s words, mixing in with the paintings, the walls, before she takes her arm out of the other and takes hold of hands, knotting fingers together. She’s walking backwards to lead her away from the map, but eyes are everywhere, a gaze scattered, afraid to miss something. “Anywhere we find ourselves first. And before you say it, we’ll never need a map. We’re the only people in here anyway, means we’ll have voices to follow when we need to come back,” a practically to it said only for the other woman, but there’s also an impatience, a wanting to be lost.

She’s a woman that lives in color - tell the world of a mind through it, find people represented only in shades of something glowing. So she finds herself among art she;d thought she’d never see but on a TV screen set to the news. So she wants to be everywhere. Colors are an emotion and a yearning, she doesn’t need a class to learn.

“Do you see that there?” White moving into pink, black not black at all, just darkening shades of blue moving into the light, no coloring one thing all together. “I think that one reminds me of you, do you see how they move together?” A head turn, too much to see, “But that’s you too,” one of the renaissance cats that looks like a cat on a man’s body. “You’re twins.”

A smile curves her lips, head shaking but not in resistance, fingers tightening around the other’s. “ You’re the boss, ” She’s looking forward to it, to time spent wandering around art that she will never understand the nuances of, but with Emme by her side, maybe this time she will.

( There is something about this, two figures surrounded by many pieces taller than them, scenes full of meaning and words to be interpreted as they will. )

She follows the words, trying to see things as she does, but it is one gift she does not have, the ability to see flow and hidden messages. But seeing the excitement of one who does, a bright light shining from eyes that discern so much, she thinks that the girl herself is a work of art, that people themselves are the true masterpieces to be appreciated.

“ I won’t lie to you, I don’t understand art the way you do, ” A sense of wistfulness, wishing that she had her eyes.

( And if you did, if your abilities were swapped, perhaps she wouldn’t have had so much to suffer, that there would be more peace with her, more ability to rest. )

“ I can appreciate you appreciating them, and am flattered that you think so highly of me, ” Raises her camera to snap pictures, their own version of art that she will be able to understand, that tell a story she can listen to. “ Point out ones that remind you of our friends especially, and don’t leave yourself out. ”

DATE & TIME: february 21st, 11:45pm LOCATION: arc du triomphe  STATUS: @xuebird

“bet you i can scale this thing faster than you can climb up the stairs.” he’s grinning, all fishhooked lopsided, wind in hair and mischief between teeth when he looks at her. the building before them is looming and quick eyes are already scaling; finding footholds, finding security.

thinks he can win, probably. wonders if he can pick up a couple of swear words in french when the guards come chasing.

he places hands on the side carvings of the building, feet already looking for ledges, looking back at the smaller girl with a half-laugh in his voice. “how about this - winner gets to pick what to do for the rest of the night, hm? a pretty good deal, right?” he’s tilting silver hair, letting it catch reflections of passing cars, of city lights. makes his eyes look brighter, almost more starshine than boy.

“better start climbing, xue - we’re starting in… three, two, one - go!”

The tone of voice gives her a sudden flashback to Vegas, where it had landed them in a jail cell, and she isn’t quite sure what the expression on her face is right now. A mix of incredulous, concern, resignation, for she’s once again thought that when he invited her to go explore the city, they would take a walk like normal people.

( But they have never been what was considered normal, have they? )

“ I’m shorter than you, ” Half complains, half deflects, hoping that perhaps he’d abandon the idea, however slim the chance was. Experience has taught her that dissuading him once an idea has popped into his head is a hard task. “ I would get to the top faster if I used my wings. ”

Frowns, even though it was now half tempting. Winning would mean a higher chance of keeping them out of trouble, though wouldn’t agreeing to this already land them in it? She was pretty sure climbing a national monument wasn’t quite within the legal boundaries.

He doesn’t give her much time to think, and he’s started when she realizes what he’s said. “ Wha —  Soren! I didn’t say yes! ” Hisses out, wondering if anyone’s spotted them and dialed 112 already. Hands reach out to grasp his pants, unable to reach his arms with her height. “ What if you fall? ”

DATE & TIME: February 20th, 10:30AM LOCATION: The Louvre, Backstage Dressing Room TAG: @xuebird

She’s always loved Paris.

But God, she wishes she were anywhere but here. 

A year ago, her father would have been helping prepare them for tonight’s performance. He’d have spent weeks drilling them for this one night. 

(And he told her, “I can’t take you to see the city.”) 

Lenore doesn’t realize how long she’s been sitting in front of her mirror in the dressing rooms for, staring off at nothing, eyes wide and glossed over. Doesn’t realize it until she catches a familiar face standing a few feet behind her. 

“Oh,” Lenore catches Xue’s reflection in the mirror, tries her best to smile at her. It’s pained. She turns in her chair to look at her, leans so that her chin is resting on the back of her chair, “Hi. How long’ve you been standing there?” She tilts her head a fraction and smiles again, this time more genuine, even if it’s small, “You look beautiful. What’re you—what’re you up to?” 

It’s become a habit to make rounds before the official performances, making sure they were well enough for the night. Oftentimes, she would sit with some of the newer ones, help work them through the stage fright.

Lenore doesn’t move at all when she enters, and she hesitates, unsure if she should call out or let her be. The dilemma is solved when she seems to come back to herself, though the brittle smile is indication that perhaps not entirely.

“ Not long, I wasn’t sure if I was disturbing you, ” Grabs the nearest chair for herself, the similarity of such a situation suddenly occurring to her.

( How often do you do the same? Shifting the focus to others is all too easy. )

It feels slightly surreal, to be out and about like normal people, an experience she hasn’t quite had for a few years. As she followed the waiter leading them to a table, she can’t help but breathe in the scent of freshly baked goods.

They had once talked of taking a holiday here, her and her mother, the famed macarons having piqued her sweet toothed curiosity. A chance to visit the place was one she could not pass up, even if she wished that her mother could have been here with her.

Nevertheless, it was still nice that  she had someone here with her, however conflicted she felt about Sol sometimes. Half the time it felt like there was a maternal sort of sense in the way she was treated, and yet there were times where she could not shake off the unease that some encounters left her with.

She self consciously smooths down the dress she’s wearing, one of the more fancy ones she owns, suddenly feeling a little childish for dressing up as if she were one of those socialite elites. Perhaps she could have been, if she had not left that family behind, but she couldn’t just ignore the plight of others to live like them.

“ Everything looks so good, I don’t know how to decide, ” Her eyes scan the menu, mind now occupied with trying to make a choice. “ Do you know what you’ll be having? ”

Amid the collection of artwork by acclaimed artists, there is a sense of displacement when she thinks of the scores of visitors to the museum. She has always been one to appreciate beautiful things, and to an amateur’s eye, while there was no doubt that they were pleasing to the eye, she couldn’t relate to the words of critics, speaking of emotions it conveyed, the brilliance of choosing a certain shade over another.

An opportunity to learn, or rather an excuse to provide something to do, it is easy to ask the one who seems to possess the most artistic sense among them to bring her on a tour of the Lourve. Since they have the whole building to themselves, why not take advantage of it?

Links her arms around the other’s, a bag of chocolates and a film camera hanging from a strap in the other, she leads Emme to a map. “ Where shall we begin, oh expert? ”

he knows her too well now, tracing shoulders lightly, trailing down arms tenderly. can feel the tensing, the numbness to him, to the blood that sticks on his skin, now ghosting hers. it is oddly satisfying, a soft thing half-broken in between toothed words, toothed grins. even nature isn’t so cruel to have foxes play with their catch like this, all sharp love right before a bone-crushing. this kind of toying is a human thing, a monstrous thing learned from fathers and mothers, to hold things close with chains.

she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t push him away. an easy invitation.

“unfortunately, i’m only one of the two.” he whispers, thumb pressed to her chin lightly to tilt eyes back up at him, leaving smears on pale skin. “and still a debatable thing. dear xue, what ever will you do with a patient who asks to die in your hands? does the caladrius know intent as much as it does health?”

(surely, then, she must have known from the start that it would have been hopeless. a bigger fool than he had initially thought, then - smiles are biting back a laughter as cruel as this wind)

“and me? are we too late, hm?” turns his head slightly, brushes noses against hers in a way that is almost endearing. makes them look like pale silver-white lovers like this, some legend with a happier ending. “personally, i’d say yes - maybe by some twenty-something years, but that’s just me. for them - “ a nod at the corpse “ - least you were only so for a couple ‘f minutes.”

(if there is a guilt, she carries it for the both of them. by now, it must almost be a drowning)

“what host leaves their guest hungry? it’s rude to keep them unfed, no?” he humours her, something playful in gold-black eyes, glinting. makes death a joke, turns this hunger into a game. “i even paid them a thank-you. wouldn’t you say this is better than whatever half-life they were living?”

and the copper in his mouth tastes like a victory with how easily she bends to his words, curved under his palm on her cheek. presses lips dripping red on hers, pulls back and lets it linger. “how lovely you look in red, dear xue.” sweet, as loving as monster can get, brushing hair behind ears again. “a colour you should wear more often. we could even match, no? it seems almost a shame to be clean.”

It carries a sense of irony, how gentle his touch is, compared to the horrific violence of actions mere minutes before. Danger, her instincts say, and yet she does nothing to push him away time and time again, even being the one to seek him out at times.

Does he know how much she hurts for him each time this happens? Every touch leaves more remnants of blood on her, not from her physical injuries, but they could be the markings of emotional ones.

( Isn’t it exhausting, this struggle each and every day? Would it not be easier to let him have his wish, if not saving his body one day the price to pay for saving his psyche? )

When will she ever be able to let go? The struggle to respect a persons wishes of wishing to die? But statistics have shown that many regret the moment they attempt to end their lives, despite how adamant they had been leading up to the final moments. So knowing this, how can she ever let go of the risk that a person may regret their decision? It is better safe, than sorry, as they say.

And so she continues in her pursuit of trying.

“ And what if the patient regrets that decision? What will I do if at the last second they asked to be saved? ”

She does not expect him to take this seriously, a long standing history of how cavalierly he treats these matters have been part of her memories, but she can’t help but pose the question, no matter how rhetorical it may appear.

“ The length of time doesn’t matter when compared to the end result, does it? ” Another such question, for what did it matter if she were late by one minute or a hundred? What mattered was that she was, in the end  —  late. 

Perhaps things might have been different for him, if they had met earlier. If he had parents more like hers. If there was someone who had stood up for him, had helped him. However, the past couldn’t be changed, and what was left was the present and the future, the choices people made along with it, and she would hope that this could change things.

Naive, perhaps, but haven’t miracles been built on hope? On unwavering perseverance, that leads to unexpected results? Of course, this does not happen all the time, but if one does not try, the chances of failure would be a hundred percent.

“ We’re going on a food run tomorrow, surely the rations could have lasted till then, ” Knows this is only a deflection, that it’s not what he refers to, but how hard is it for her to acknowledge how animalistic it was? How this was precisely why humans were afraid of them, why ‘ monster ’ was so often a label that was attached. “ When has whether one deserves death been for us to decide? ”

Even as the words leave her mouth she knows it can be turned back on her, but she doesn’t expect the press of lips against lips, automatically folding inwards when he pulls away, but the taste of blood fills her mouth thanks to that, and she almost retches. So used to the smell of it, the feel of it, but when does one have the occasion to taste, except when it is a self injury?

It doesn’t do, for those words that leave his mouth to immediately paint a picture of a her that had less compassion, for one that stood by and let him have his fun, for his victims to know that she could save them yet doing nothing, the lifeblood staining her hands.

Some say these sort of intrusive thoughts are common, that they mean nothing, that it doesn’t mean the person would act on it, but the fact that it would occur to her at all doesn’t leave a comfortable feeling behind.

She turns away, one hand going to the other, to toy with the red string that she still wears, despite not believing in the gods like her mother does, she still wears it, acting as an anchor at times, a reminder. 

She wishes she could give it, the bubble of quiet that lasts, the world frozen where is it until there’s only a calm, until Xue feels comfortable to enter the world again, wishes she could spread it when she isn’t there to reach out to the other woman. 

“But that does mean we’d get to see more of each other.” There’s still fond laughter in her reaction to the warnings, to the care, and it’s real, but it masks too the panic of sleep, the discomfort of it being mentioned at all, wanting something else, wishing for something simpler, but never knowing what could be simple when this is all she’s ever known. “Could you treat that, as a caladrius?” A real curiosity, but mostly it’s a turning away from herself, something more comfortable than to think of her own mind, done out of nature, now habit as well.

(She does wish she could be more like the other, wishes she could give more, wishes this was more than seeing, wishes there could be more her hands could do than collect blood, more than feel and see. She’s seen ends of worlds not yet born, small gods born and die; feel a touch or stare too long and know the same; and what does this do, what can she do? She doesn’t know. Shes’ still trying. She’d like to be like her, even if she still feels. There’s good in her hands.)

“See, I knew you were queen,” she gives, laugh growing louder, more made of giggles as she sees the other reach for snow, trying to stand, but doesn’t run, only begins to back away, her hands covering half of her face, “But you have to show it to me to prove it,” and then she runs, more awkward than she’ll care to admit, but laughing still, she doesn’t care.

She hides behind a nearby tree, turning her head to stick her tongue out in Xue’s direction, a light expression, childlike, a life that doesn’t fit their surroundings in any sense, “C’mon, Fair Queen,” her nose crinkling at her.

“ Not really the context I’d like to see you in, if I’m honest. ” What person would be happy their friends are ill? “ Besides, we see each other plenty, though I can’t believe I’m condoning your sleeplessness with our night baking sessions. ”

It’s been an occurrence that has been happening more frequently, as of late, but there’s something that tells her that Emme needs it just as much as she does, a temporary activity that helps to draw the focus, especially away from things that haunt.

“ I’m not too sure, the extent of what I can do is something I’m still figuring out, ” Perhaps family history would have helped, but her father was not around to pass it down, and the few journals that had been rescued my her mother were closely safeguarded, that she couldn’t bring them along when she first chose to join the menagerie. Maybe one day, if they met again, she’d be able to obtain the remainder of her father’s legacy, but for now it is experimental. 

Logically, it may work, although she’d not sure about they long term effects of continued practice, something that would likely happen should they discover it works. The possibility of it affecting her as well is present, as with all illnesses she heals, but that is a secret that no one else knows, and neither will they ever.

“ Oh, Emme, you’ve brought this upon yourself, ” Snow is already being packed into balls, body pushed up from the snow bank ready to give chase. It’s the teasing face by the tree that launches her first snowball, narrowly missing as it explodes into the tree, but it is a small concession that it appears some of the fallout gets her target.

It would paint a pretty picture, two petite figures frolicking in the snow, enjoying a childish pastime. Perhaps in a different life, they would be just as they appear, youth free of burden, but in this reality at least, for these moments it hold true. 

he jumps too easily at the sudden noise, eyes transfixed on the screws and wire in front of him for the past - how long? he’s not too sure anymore, if it’s been working on this panel for the past day or if he’s moved on to another since he began - since he got here. he’s not quite sure when that was, either.

large eyes turn to the girl and the noise, clearly ruffled by the sudden appearance, smiles disjointed and fluttering on lips like things unoiled, eyes flitting back and forth between her and his work, fingers itching.

“oh, i, um - i’m doing well, thank you. not a problem at all, i’ll just have this done soon, don’t worry, i - i’m fine, i’m good. i’m just - just gonna finish this up and then take a break, yes, i wouldn’t want to leave halfway, you see - i’m almost done this, then that and later this and i’d hate to have to stop or be late, i heard there was a storm coming and we’ll need these done for then - “

his words are jumbled ungracefully, hands and fingers more and more skittish as he speaks, cutting himself off abruptly to smile at the girl sheepishly. “it’s fine, xue - thank you. we wouldn’t want to waste food on me now, after al.”

Her smile turns wry at his actions, obviously startled, and she feels slightly bad for having given him a shock. But she knew his tendencies of getting too immersed in his work, and it is part of her job to make sure that all the people here are well.

Slight wrinkles mar her forehead, though the smile is kept on her lips. Understands that there is work that cannot be stopped at the midpoint, but it also does not mean that she is leaving before ensuring that adequate rest is had.

“ Carry on, then, I’ll just wait for a while here while you finish up. I won’t get in the way, ” she assures. “ I have to make sure you do get rest, though. What good would it do if you collapse from overwork? ”