Only cowards live forever

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#c:jael #ma #tartarusevent #tw blood #tw murder #major character death

Vespasien was a filthy, cruel man, and his son no different, but at least he had something better in himself that Arcade did.

The blade pressed to her throat, though, had her falling still, hands falling to push against where the blade kissed her throat, to try to free herself. He was just like Yves.

“Let go, let go! Loup-garou bête!” Something in her knew, though, that she could do nothing to help herself now. He would do this, or he wouldn’t, and her thrumming heart would not cease, her voice falling. “But I love you, Arcade. Remember? Remember, I-I took you through Prague. I sat with you when you were sick. I taught Jada how to braid her hair! I cooked for you and your father. I did so well, I was your mother!”

#c:jael #ma #tartarusevent #tw blood #tw violence

“Me, me, me, d’ya hear how pitiful you sound? Stupid werewolf, yeah, yeah, but who has the knife, Jael?”

She could hear the soft, familiar shifting sound of the knife slipping from its sheath. She knew that sound too well, and it set her heart beating heavily. Twisting, she was too small, much too small to do any fighting, but she tried regardless, whimpering as her arms flailed against his.

“Let me go, Arcadius!”

Screaming, always screaming, what was it with a woman so small being so loud? She was far too shrill, always had been, but he had overlooked it. Why had he ever overlooked it?

Setting the blade against her throat, Arcade glared at the woman who would be his mother, body unrelenting beneath her small fists.

“Hell do you think that’ll accomplish?”

Arcade had never been so violent, not with her, but it was just a matter of time. How could she have been so stupid as to not see he would target her, too?

Gasping, she tried to shift away from him, but the grip he had on her hair was too tight.

“Don’t talk like that. Your father loves you and you know that, Arcade! How did I ever make it through Prague with you?”

#ignore the kicking part?#c:jael #ma #tartarusevent

“How do you think you made it through Prague? Think a werewolf village wanted to house a pathetic little vampire?”

She didn’t know anything, not a damn thing. Pulling at her until her face was tilted toward him, Arcade grimaced, pulling his weathered bowie knife from its sheath on his hip.

“Vespasien doesn’t love a damn thing, Jael.”

How had she ever thought him her son? He was just like Yves, in the way that he set her knuckles flushed white and her eyes a fiery rage.

“What do you mean? I-I…Arcadius. Stop this, right now. I’ll inform your father of this awful behaviour. You’re frightening me now.”

#i love that gif fight me #hes disgustin #c:jael #ma #tartarusevent

“Oh, I’m frightening you, cherie? Good, I thought you were too stupid to feel fear.”

Close enough, his fingers coiled in her hair, wrapped what he could of the short strands around his fist. She was cold to the touch, and how had he ever found comfort in the sight of her, felt chastised by the sound of his name on her lips? She was just as disgusting as the rest of them.

“Tell him, maybe he’ll finally love me. Maybe the bastard will think me worth it if I bring him your head.”

“I will say her name as I please! She is as much my child as you are.” Child, ungrateful little beasts that they were. And look at him, now, look how vicious and terrible he was. “And what of now? Do you hunt now, too?”

“I do.”

Stalking closer, slowly until he stood over her, Arcade gave her a harsh, slow grin.

“Funny that you think I ever stopped.”

Her heart skipped a beat, if that was at all possible, and she felt her hips bump back against the cabinet. Filthy son of a bitch, something in her hissed, just like Yves, drawing her in so kindly only to bring her here.

“I’m your mother, Arcadius. I’m your mother, just as much as I’m Jada’s mother. You mustn’t be so ha– My breed? Is this something of me being a vampire?”

“Don’t say her name!”

She was just as filthy as his sister, just as sickly and vile. Mother, she called herself a mother, but there were no bounds there, were there? He felt no endearment to her, no love. He was caught up instead by the wretchedness of his sister, the unloving bastard that was his father. She was just the same, just as horrible and wrong.

“It has everythin’ to do with you being a vampire. I hunt your kind for sport, Jael, like my pretty little gators and my snakes.”

I don’t know why I haven’t killed you yet.

Another smile slipped across her cheeks. No, then, she wasn’t sure either why he hadn’t done it. She had worked for decades for werewolves, but Arcadius was a particularly foul breed. Even his father was a malicious bastard.

“Don’t you love me, dear? I-I’ve baked for you.” There were other good things, weren’t there? No, no, there weren’t. They were all gone.

“Baking, right. Baking makes up for your breed.”

That wasn’t what that feeling was, that heavy pressure in his chest. That was because of how close she had been, the way he had left her with his sister, his father. They were just as wretched, but pack mattered all the same, didn’t it?

“Why would I ever love you?”

Flinching at the sound of his voice, her eyes were wide, her smile false and full. Fear settled heavy across her skin. Jael, not Ma. Why did it matter, though? He was not a son. He was just a man, a wolf, a violent creature that she didn’t know why she still lived with him.

“Well, I live here, Arcadius,” she chirped, a tremble to her voice.

Eyes narrowed on her, he came to a stop in the mouth of the room. Looming, face shadowed where he stood, she was so small where she sat. He knew how to pull her head from her shoulders, how to rip her heart from her chest, and it would be so easy.

She needed to stop smiling like that.

“That’s the thing that I don’t get,” Drawling, watchful, his words were slow and full of teeth, of contempt. “Because I don’t know why I haven’t killed you yet.”

Something was wrong, and she could feel it in her blood the moment the sun set. Arcade was not home, he was gone, and nervously shaking hands had busied her all day. Company was not a pleasant idea. Who could she even try to call?

And yet, his scent was dark.

“Arcadius?” She cooed. Why did she still live with him? “I’m in here, dear.”

#tartarusevent #c:jael #ma

Dear, he knew those words and he knew that voice. But Jael was wrong, she was no mother to him. Vampire, she was nothing better than the faceless creature who had attacked his sweet sister,

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” Prowling after the sound of her voice, his own became harsh. “Shouldn’t-why are you here, Jael?”

There was a vampire in his home, dirty and wrong. Stalking through the house, shoulders hunched, a low rumble echoed in his chest, body coiled tight as he searched. Except the scent was everywhere, in every corner and on everything that he touched, making him just as dizzy with his confusion as he was angry.

“Fuck are you, leech?”

souleatingkurtis-blog

“Sorry I was spacing out…can you repeat that for me again?”

“Not sure it matter’s much now, sir.” Frowning at the other man, Arcade gave the soul eater a slow once over before adjusting his hat. “Ya feelin’ alright there? Lookin’ a fair bit peckish.”

#c:kurtis #yo

He was hurt. He was hurt because of her and Eliza only added it to the guilt she knew she had to let go of soon. She didn’t understand most of the words coming out of his mouth, but she guessed they were curses and she bit down on her lip as she looked around them, trying to figure where they could go. There was a house close by, it’s windows clearly knocked out by the floods the day before, and wrapping her hand around Arcade’s wrist, she guided him towards it.

A brief rap on the door assured her that no one was at home and then they were inside and she was nudging him to take a seat at the kitchen table while she scurried off to find a linen closet. “Try not to move too much, I need to get something cool on your back!”

Her voice echoed through the rooms, dirt and mud still caked to the floors being the only sign that yesterday was the polar opposite of what was happening right now. She succeeded and was into the kitchen, running a towel under the spluttering sink. “This is going to hurt I’m afraid.”

He nearly forgot that she was a vampire, that she was just as strong as he. Her bones looked delicate, her skin soft, and she seemed gentle despite the vicious bite to her tongue. She was fire then though, just as fierce and determined as the flames that had started to quell themselves behind them.

He went willingly as she pulled him into the house, body consumed by the way that the nerves along his back screamed in silent pain. Falling into the chair she had pushed him toward, front draped over the cool wooden back, Arcade let himself relax, slumped. His body was alive with a sort of pain he hadn’t felt in a while, not in a year at least, and grinding his teeth against it, Arcade watched her move about through stinging eyes.

Strange, but her beauty didn’t seem so subjective then.

“Already hurts, ma’am, do-” The slight shift he gave proved ill-planned, and Arcade snarled, body curling against the pain. “Jus’ fuckin’ get it over with.”

#c:eliza #tartarusevent

Eliza hadn’t realised anyone else there, until she felt arms around her waist, flinging her away. A second of a warmth weight against her and then she was being dragged away, stumbling to try and stay upright as her footsteps raised clouds of dirt that were sucked up into the flames. The heat of the air itself was stifling and the fire was sucking up the oxygen, making it hard to breathe.

The sound of a pained scream caused her to wister around, her emerald eyes growing wide when she realised it was Arcade that had grabbed a hold of her and who had flames licking at his back. It kick started her to act instead of be acted upon and she quickly found her feet, trying to pull him along just as she was her. Together with their speed they should be able to escape the flames, and indeed she found once she stopped acting as a useless weight the pair started to pull away.

Eliza refused to stop however, until she reached what she thought was a safe place. Then she turned to the man; her saviour. “Oh my god, are you okay?!”

The fires that had danced across his skin had put themselves out just as quickly as they had tried to take Him. His shirt was ruined, falling from the front of him where the back had been burned away. Somehow, his hair had missed the onslaught, caught up in a tight bun at the top of his head, and he didn’t know whether to be grateful or not.

They were away from the flames though, and Eliza, with her soft pale skin and her brilliant eyes, she was safe.

“Fuckin’ peachy, ma’am.”

A dirty, heavy growl of Creole became his tongue then, pulling words from him that he wouldn’t have said before her otherwise.

#c:eliza #tartarusevent

The morning had brought with it a break from the rain and when Eliza had risen to silence she expected to look out the window and find Tartarus underwater. Instead when she took a glimpse outside she found the ground barren and cracked, the pavement giving off waves of heat and the air tainted with smoke. The vampire furrowed her brows at the latter, for where there was smoke there was usually fire and here she was on the opposite island to her family.

The note she scrawled to let Beth know she was going was barely legible, but Eliza didn’t want to waste time making her writing neat. Guessing the winter weather was gone she dressed in jeans and a shirt and rushed out of the house as fast as her feet would take her. The heat hit her like a wall and she let out an involuntary gasp, suddenly wishing she had brought a scarf to tie around her face.

Setting off towards the direction of the bridge to take her to Cyric Eliza began to falter, she wished she had brought water and she had past several fires, realising that the island and its people wouldn’t be getting out of this unscathed. She had barely made it onto Cyric when she pulled up, realising that this island was even worse than Edden. It was barren and yet somehow more intense and she realised there was no way she could get stuck over here, nor meet her end. It was too late though, as she turned to retreat she was met by a wall of flame that had spread in seconds, driven by the wind.

It was all she could do to let out a scream.

@arcadius-gator

Three years wasn't that much of a difference, not in the face of the years he had spent with a badge in his pocket and a gun in his hands. He hadn't been reinstated since leaving Europe, since leaving Louisiana really, but Arcade knew disasters well enough. He knew the sort of stress that public safety forces were left to deal with when hurricanes flooded their streets, left entire quarters underwater and dead floating in the street. Just the same he knew riots, knew fire and panic, knew the taste of civilians fear where it sat heavy on his tongue.

Leaving to help like the vigilante he essentially was seemed to have been a good decision though. Grasping Eliza by her waist, Arcade twisted them both about sharply. He couldn't apologize for how he jarred her, had no time to be gentle, and instead he tried to throw the vampress away from the flames.

They caught along his bared shoulder blades though, lickes violent and vicious at the skin of his back, and Arcade gave a pained snarl even as he pulled her further away.

"Fuck!"

#c:eliza #tartarusevent

“No, you shouldn’t apologise for those Arcade,” she agreed, and it was true. Their last meeting had been a shambles, and Eliza knew that it was due to her overreaction. Deep down she knew that not everyone was like the demons, least of all this man. It had been thirty years since she had laid her eyes on any of them, that part of her life was behind her and she just wished segments wouldn’t stil latch onto her like this.

Deciding then that she had to make this at least a little better, to stop the awkward tension and show forgiveness, Eliza approached him. She stopped a comfortable distance away, not too far to show hesitance, and yet not close enough to enroach.

“So what have you managed to catch so far?”