Fai_Ryy
noise dept.
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
The Bright Sessions
tannertan36
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Color Me Curious
Cosmic Funnies
bliss lane
Discoholic 🪩
Jimmy Eat World
🪼
pixel skylines
@theartofmadeline
#extradirty
tumblr dot com
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Today's Document
if i look back, i am lost
Mike Driver
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from Lebanon
seen from Germany
seen from Colombia
seen from Japan
seen from Azerbaijan
seen from United Kingdom
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from India
seen from Belgium
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
@autumnshowell
fabula:: Autumn Howell
Name: Autumn Starling Howell Occupation: Co-Owner of Bookends Specialty Bookstore/ Tideview Student Age: 26 (October 31st 1999) Sexuality: Lesbian Partner: @photoaria Species: Werewolf Pack: Cerberus Hometown: Durieu, Canada (Raised in Port Leiry from Infancy) Relationship Status: Engaged to @photoaria Personality: + + : Passionate, Creative, Ambitious, Resilient - - : Resentful, Selfish, Stubborn, Angry, Vengeful Updated 8/25
@photoaria Not Port Leiry
There's a tinge of strange irritation in her mood tonight. She'd spent those first two furtive nights in the basement - in the cage, because that silver cell was something familiar to the death-addled mind that had scraped against the core of A.J.'s magic and Aria's own curse and come away burnt by both.
She wasn't angry per se. Well, she was. Maybe, No. It was complicated.
Wasn't love complicated always? Especially in what ends it will see our minds go to forgive?
But Aria could have asked-- should have, even.
Then again, what would she have said? Give me a year? And then in a year, what, five more? Ten? Let me think about it until she was old and gray and then, finally, dead?
Oh well, she thinks, and that tinge of irritation fades like all the same tinges have before them. She either can't or won't be angry with Aria. And besides, she's probably the kind of angry you get when you're hungry, and food tasted like envelope glue now, so Aria had decided that tonight was time well enough to learn how to hunt on two feet.
They're in a bar full of humans, and Autumn -- slouched in the booth they've picked out with newly yellow eyes peeking over the rims of her sunglasses (at night, yes, because looking in mirrors fills her with a deep sense of strangeness, so she can only assume other people will be put off even more) at the assembled menu. Clawed fingers fidget with a tie set to hang loose around her neck like a stylish noose, the sleeves of her jean-jacket shoved up and buttoned around her elbows.
Here her eyes fall on a cougar at the bar, the trying-too-hard face of ladies-night makeup of which grabs her with something negatively oedipal. She pins her bottom lip between her teeth, stares a little longer. There's the flare, it occurs to her. The spike of territorial or aggressive nothing that wells up in her mind, makes her want to do more than bite. She's more free with it - something she hasn't really noticed for herself yet.
'I want that one. Her face pisses me off.' The thought isn't voiced, but more like an impulse that travels from Autumn's thoughts into Aria's - something they'd found out had resulted from Astor's spell in short order. It feels strange when Aria answers - like water in her ear, but she's getting used to it slowly-- like everything else.
AJ won't step in — can't. Aria has to complete this act on her own, even match after match. Life after life, lost. Astor tastes the blood in his mouth, breathing in copper, and iron like he is no better than a hungry beast. It's a different need that fills him. He hadn't known relief until he'd been looking at blackened ash on a grave. He won't fall — don't you cunt. The constraints of a mortal body wane on him, then. Whatever faint connection he and Aria had passed between each other, earlier, by mistake, had slipped away into somewhere uncharted within. Reprieve will come when he can witness the result of their intention.
The only thing keeping him standing, is the knowledge that they'd done it; chalked every detail into permanance. Gods at play. Forging new worlds.
When the ground stirs next, the mound shakes. Every shift of life torn from the jaws of death, twists the earth unnaturally. AJ muscles start to feel the elephantine weight of all they'd done; adreneline dimming and power humming, almost spent. The smoke of the one that watches will not stop his collpase, if it comes. His grin stays red.
Skeletal hand with loose flesh dangling from its fingers, swells, filling with sinew. AJ grins, admiring the foot into a magic he had never meant to touch; the result and the consequence of the laws bending for him. Unable to refuse, under the grand assault of power it could not defend from. Look at this. All his fastidious particulars on the back of Aria's found blueprints.
He doesn't know if it's strong enough to rattle the undead of a vamp; to give her a glimpse of what electric runs through a body, when used. Empty of the touch, would not be worth a penny for him, if he were her cut off from the magic. His eyes slide away from the body escaping the earth. "Not bad for your first time, Aria." His little assistant.
This must be what it must have felt like for the first necromancer to tear a life back from beyond. Only, this version, omits some of the boring bits of it all. They did it bloody better. Thunder, lightning and the screams of lesser Gods failing to stop the order from being tainted by the sacriledge of forbidden spells. Let them come. All those who oppose; AJ would relish in it.
Autumn has had the life drained from her whilst in the clutches of the earth. The rivers fed her, just enough to carry her back to what she knows. But the rest is out of his hands; Astor's part is finished.
They still have time before they lose all they've done. And finally, the gravitas of the sky shoves him down and a knee bends to claim rest. Forearm on his thigh, he has to catch his breath; the rush of power a sudden shock wave, toppling trees and creating new thunderclaps in the forest space. Black smoke swirls in and out of them, weaving its intrigue in its slow, assessing movements.
See you in a bit, Aut. He can't wait to see what she's capable of, at the end of this.
His voice is filled with pride, and cocksure confidence. Emo knows her part, it's the final step in their ritual.
She must feed.
"Before the moon rises, love."
@photoaria
The use of her name surprises her, enough to take her gaze off of Autumn's hand jutting out from the dirt. The emphasis cracks through the worry, allows a smile to find its way to her lips. Shaking her head, she murmurs a quiet 'shut up', almost embarrassed. They don't have the connection that he and Autumn have, but Aria knows she's going to owe him for as long as he wants to remain alive.
The wait is awful. The spell is doing its job, but when the digging starts, she can't help but pay rapt attention to the woman emerging from the Earth. In her periphery, she can see (and hear) the sounds of exhaustion in AJ - for a moment, it sparks up worry again, but it passes at seeing Autumn alive.
Undead.
She surges forward and helps her out the rest of the way - ignoring the tendrils of black smoke and the feeling of all of her hair standing on end. It's been accomplished, they've done it. What else do they need to worry about other than what eternity will bring? All her worries, all her fears - AJ solved them.
Her hands find Autumn's cheeks, smoothing away bits of earth and mud. Red-gold looks beautiful on her, even if she finds she'll miss the blue. Shaky smile, shaky hands, shaky kiss - all in one surging motion. "Good morning, my love. You have to feed now."
She pulls one hand back to bite at her own wrist, then presses it to Autumn's lips. The last step is the easiest - her free hand finds Autumn's hair, and she looks above her head to find AJ kneeling beyond them. She wonders if he'll take some blood, too, to help with the bloody smile and exhaustion ripping through him.
@autumnshowell
Her lungs sieze and starve for air, but to suck in the wind through clods of spit and dirt does nothing. She chokes, but the choking is for the taste of soil, not that it blocks breath. Her fingers claw at the loam, because deep beneath it was dark and lonely and she can't be buried.
Autumn surfaces, or a thing like Autumn. The edges of the grave collapse and give way, giving trouble to limbs that feel stiff and painful. She feels hollow-- is hollow, as all the magic used to wrest her back into the living world has burned up what little had been left in her. Her eyes are swollen with blood, the pale blue that'd been there gone and replaced with the angry yellow of a monster. What sounds come from her mouth are dry and wracking as she heaves up what's left of human sustenance in her in the form of wet ash as she's wrenched from the earthly cradle by familiar meat.
A symphony rises - the life and lives of the woods, from the lowly crickets to the small prey that darts around and between the trees. A heartbeat swells up out of it and the shrunken husk's gaze darts about the ground, sniffing it out, before hands find it's head, pulling it's gaze up.
The expression given is neither hurt nor betrayal nor love, but and each in equal measure - but above all things it is love. Love and a yearning she's never felt before, even in the deepest throes of that love. Her eyes scan about, newborn in their way, in the way she feels she can see the throb of blood in Aria's arm, as she watches the vein open, and sees AJ beyond it, she can see the pulse of it in him too - singing. And then she's panting - if there's humiliation about it she doesn't show signs of it, because her eyes widen at the sight of blood dripping in root-like rivulets across Aria's flesh. How many times has she had blood on her tongue, how many times has it been little more than copper and iron and salt to her? How many times has she wished otherwise? It's never smlled this sweet, it's never sung like this. Her mouth opens, agape, and fangs supplant her canines, top and bottom, and she grabs hungrily at the skin around the wound, biting tightly down, like an ironjaws. And as she sucks at the wound, and feels something seal tightly around her mind, she locks eyes with AJ, brows furrowed. Her heart thrums with it. Her body sings with it, and it's like the world blooms into existence for the first time. When Aria bids her let go, she can't help but oblige, pulling her fangs free of it, eyes wide with a sort of euphoria that both shocks and confuses her in how much it has dulled the fire-hot pain of the ordeal. She falls back into Aria's cradled grasp, heart beating, but breath still as she stares at AJ, and for a moment, she isn't herself again, her eyes a different shade of black and red, the hollows of her expression locked on her other friend, her other maker, with intent that is now her own. "You are applauded, Astor" she says - or he, or it - not Autumn, but something darker, before the black fades from her eyes like smoke and Autumn falls into a blood-drunken haze. — @photoaria, @ajastor
"A red sticker?" Liam asked as he lifted the glass up, letting the light that came through the window to reflect off of it. "What does a red sticker have anything to do with--" His eyes darted towards the bottle that he'd left on the nearby counter.
Aria's.
"Fuck-- gross." Liam stood, strode to the nearest sink, and immediately dumped the contents of the glass. After rinsing the glass out, he snatched the next bottle that Autumn offered. "Didn't think of checking." He muttered as he poured it into his cup. "I definitely will next time."
He lifted it to his lips and took a long swig, washing out the previous taste in his mouth. "So ah--" He sucked on his teeth. "Jude's back, hm?"
Autumn cringes. "Sorry I--"
Her hand knit together in a moment of anxious apology as she follows him into the kitchen and watches him switch drinks. "I forgot, we don't have company a lot..."
But Liam doesn't dwell on it, instead just moving on to fix himself a new, bloodless drink as she offers a nervous breath of laughter. Finding a spot to lean, Autumn takes a deep breath and shakes her head, eyes towards the floor for a moment. "Yeah. I . . . guess so."
She hasn't really fully processed that. Jude Grigsby coming back from the dead had been something that had presented a new egg of misery for her. On paper, it should have made her happy - it did make her happy, even if it was a mess of confusion, doubt, and worry about the why or the how. But there was the lingering matter of the man -- men -- that she and Liam had killed in the name of justice, or revenge, or both.
"He seems real?" She'snot sure if she's asking or assuring. "It just feels like... wrong. Like people don't just come back like that they... Aria came back but she's a vampire. Autumn leans, back to the counter, hands idly playing at the lip of it. He's not. He's not even one of us anymore he's. . ."
It takes her a moment."It's not his body so... I don't know what to think. What do you think?"
It's not idle, the question - Liam is, whether he likes it or not, the closest thing she has to a second in Cerberus.
There's no fight in letting Emo dig most of the grave, whilst AJ rests on his shovel like he's supervising a workforce. His hands are cut raw, because to make a creature of gluttony, and binding them to one of wrath, there had to make sacrifices. Custom trainers, to start. The Gods would never accept a new rite forged in blood and bone, without being given something worth their time. Astor learnt that from the rivers, as a child. They give and take, just as much as the caster does.
AJ and Aria were about to give them a soul and let it be morphed into something unheard of. And then, they planned rip it out of their greedy hands in the same breath.
Even on ancient paper borrowed from a Lomidze library, it seems almost impossible to beat the odds. But they never had a patron to draw on, until recently. AJ's bound God to God, to be able to taste the surge of what has never been before. He's one part on the other side of the veil, now.
The markers were fixed in place; five points, steady in the low wind of the forest. Half buried, half exposed, ringed in gold to keep them from moving an inch. Flames on short wicks that tremble in fear of what will soon devour them.
Earthern canals connect the points to the centre; Aut as their crowned conduit for power never explored. Astor tosses dirt into the hole with less consideration than Aria, because time is as crucial as any element in a spell. She should know that, they've both read the pages back to front a dozen times, memorising every detail. A little bit of dirt isn't gonna hurt Aut anymore than she's already dead.
They both look at the disturbed pile of mud, and AJ can feel the ground beneath his feet quake with knowledge that its about to be defiled some more. The magic in his blood is tied to the rivers of old, and five disguishable waters soak each marker; Thames; Nile; Amazon; Yangtze; Mississippi. He's never drawn so much of the warlock power at once and he can feel his body aching with trying to contain the mass; it threatens to rip him open like a burst seam; the voice of control that whispers in the rear of his mind has never been so loud, and interested in what he is about to accomplish. It watches. Deep in the shadows, casting mist around them so it becomes only them, and the rite. History will change.
Because they will never let it die. There is no question in it. He will sacrifice another town of souls, for this one. He doesn't need to ask if Aria's prepared to do the same.
First, his hands lift, palms down as he stands at the foot of the burial site. Aria stands at the circle edge, and he is well within the confines of the ritual. AJ has to connect all the elements and drag them from their basal state, to one more lively form; an invisible centrifuge. Flames are fed by the leaves torn from above their heads, snakes of fire that lap hungrily at the delicate summer fauna. It feeds. Yeni bir yaşama hayat vermek.
The damp soil at the base of the gold warms under the new fire that hisses against the patronic smoke that surrounds the outer edge of the circle. It won't enter. It has become AJ's domain. River magic is pulled next, because water is the vessel of transference; to infect; to heal; to sink things far heavier than it is on its own. This power is the heaviest thing AJ's ever had to carry. It bleeds into the soil, searching underneath the ground like a vicious network, ready to drown the prey of the body laid in its grasp.
Sulfur begins to become suffocating. The mercury on the farthest point erupts in a splash, peppering the ground, and poisoning the air, all the same. For the dead, and the immune, it matters not. It's working. It must be. The salt is yellowing around them, soaking up the potential for failure. It captures all the death that they have wreaked in the circle, whilst he plays with new life.
Sweat beads at Astor's hairline, concentration absent all humour. Teeth bleeding between the gaps, and the wounds on his palm split open, leaking new blood.
It speckles the soil, but he does not stop.
Ruhlar şekillendirilebilir; onlar ölmez. Even his. Even Aria's.
There is rope by his feet, salted, and soiled. Sonsuz bağ. Eternally connected. Kurtadam, Vampir. Bloodbound. Kanla bağlanmış.
He takes the rope into his hands, and it burns the cuts on his fingers and palm. As he ties it, the forces of nature make it like it is clay, needing to be forced into its position; into the knot. He offers one end to Aria, expectant. It's her immortal life. Natural providence is a unshakeable rule in the alchemical and when it brushes her hand, the cuts on his palms knit over, like a zipper has sealed them.
AJ's not pissing about in the edge of mania, when he gives her the command.
"Step in now." He refuses to be the connection, and he's firm in his haste. Dark eyes, with fleks of gold glowing bright. They're set to watch the ritual magnify. She's a powerful ingredient that needs to leave the darkening smoke, and enter the circle of flame; death and life. Above and below. "Tighten the knot, as hard as you bloody can." It is timed perfectly with the slicing of the sun falling behind the trees. The metaphor for their bond. It's Aria that feeds life into Aut, for any of the spell to hold. Squeeze the blood, the salt, and the river tides out of the rope until it only knows Aria's lethal grasp. When she is done, it's obvious what comes next. Its host needs a target, to transform. "Over the grave."
The tie. The connection. It brings in every piece of the rite, like lightning meeting a rod.
And then the flames die, the smoke of AJ's draw envelops them in darkness; the sun cannot penetrate the cloud they're swallowed by. Gold gleams in front of them; madness to think there's shapes of limbs, and eyes darting around between them. AJ's seen the things in his head, and they're not here. This is a test at the end of the ritual, and he digs his heels into the mud beneath them, all the same. It's going to consume him, if he loses the grip before they finish.
The smoke clears. And the elements have re-soaked the rope of metamorphosis. Alchemy, in all its flair, and all its old scripture, never dies easy.
Astor's breathless, hands shaking as the eagerness and excitement begins to wane under the heavyweight blows of a God and its taming. AJ's head is reeling, in Turkish incantations, and wrestling with the toll on his own. But there's laughter wanting to rip up his throat. Look at this. All they've done.
Düğümün yanması gerekiyor.
AJ lifts his head, tilting it towards Aria. Lazily, because his muscles are spent, he tosses her the matches.
"When you burn this, there's no coming back, love."
It has to be her; she's the other end of the river, and they're about to become an ocean.
The ritual is unlike anything she's ever seen. With her mind as fucked as it is, she doesn't know if she's been able to see magic, but this specific spell. It looks and feels as if AJ is cracking open space and time to make this work - it feels heavy, otherworldly. Every nerve ending in her body screams at her to run when she sees the blood in his teeth, on his hands.
She takes the other end of the rope when instructed, watching the cuts heal quickly. Confusion settles into her features and she has no time to think, only act. He says step in, she steps in. He says tighten the knot, her hands act before she has time to form an opinion about it.
Nothing else matters other than the spell. Nothing else fucking matters except making sure Autumn comes back and comes back as intended: something wholly new and immortal. She watches as the elements drip out of the rope as she squeezes and twists it, doesn't think of how the world seems to shift around them - smoke and flame and acrid tastes on her tongue. She looks up when the elements return, soaking through the rope.
She sets the knot down right over Autumn's freshly covered grave, and meets AJ's eyes when he tosses the matches over. "There's nothing to go back to." They have to move forward - for her love, for his ego, and for the creation that comes from true obsession. The first match lights with shaking hands and she holds the flame to the rope. It doesn't catch.
The second match doesn't strike immediately, and she practically throws it down into the rope. Doesn't catch. Had he fucking tricked her? No, he wouldn't. She looks up to him, taking in the exhaustion that makes him sag into the Earth. It seems he tries, still, to look above it all. She makes a mental note: get him some rest.
She tries a third time and the flames lick up the sides of the rope, catching onto the frayed edges, crackling up its lengths not like how a fire envelops. The spark and flame crawls like something living, winding itself around the threads in gold and orange. She steps back - still within the circle - in case it explodes, but oddly, it just burns smooth until the rope is blackened ash, dripping in power.
The ash soaks into the mud.
And all they have to do now, is wait.
@autumnshowell
The world falling away is a strange feeling - a disconnection from everything - from thought, from sensation, from perception. It's as if, all at once, she's in a void - there's murmurs, movements, she's sure of it, but they're crude, rudimentary inklings, like somebody's started a drum ticking in the most lizard part of her brain; a primordial, hard wired fail safe that handles input in only its vaguest and most idiot levels.
That strangeness lasts for a singular moment that stretches itself into an eon and then there's nothing.
And then there's everything. There's a pale, smiling face - or the impression of one. There's a hallway. There's a long, bleak stretch of gray sludge in colors like Amanda and Bowling Balls and Lonely. It's all symbols. Symbols lost in time and space and, as the minute-long eon wanes, lost in meaning.
And then, like the things under the sea who decided shapes were not enough, that light and dark's parity was too shallow, color blossoms in the form of a girl looking for Stephen King - who or what Stephen King is, this little furtive spark doesn't know, because nothing has it's meaning anymore - nothing except a sparked fire lighting the shape of a girl looking for Stephen King. The girl's on fire - behind her is the smell of fire and the smell of loam and the smell of burnt rope and what the fuck does any of it mean?
The eye is upon her, or something like an eye, peering from behind the girl through a tear in the everything here in the nothing - wreathed in red and dripping in shadow. It's spotlight-gaze peers on like a half-interested party. The furtive spark falters under the red cone of its perceptions before, bored of the banality of it, the great eye blinks and is gone, leaving only the bright-rimmed shape of a girl looking for Stephen King.
The singular eon moment dawdles and tarries - an infinite moment, until like a gunshot the whole thing collapses, and the spark catches on something like a net, ceasing its ascent and dragging it back down towards the earth. Through the skies. Past the Lonely, past the Bowling Balls. Past the Amanda. Past the smiling pale face - her mother, she almost has the inkling. And then past that, until the spark is something inside out, and fingers digging through dirt stroke something sour into it, leaving their etchings on the inside of the spark until it shrinks away with the hurt of it. The tiny spark collapses into itself then and explodes in a thunderclap.
That thunderclap's a scream from a mouth full of dirt. The shallow grave stirs before a hand bursts through the first, it's wrist spun wrenched in some horrendous contortion. It points it's straining, shaking, crooked and clawed digit; South. West. North. East.
And then, with a sickening snap, it points to Aria before the tension seems to melt out of it and it falls limp to the ground.
Maybe for a moment. Maybe for an hour.
And then it stirs again, loose earth shifting and sagging into the depression, until she bursts from it, retching and heaving from lungs that don't need breath. Eyes flooded red with yellow-gold beads at their center. Despite the closeness of her death, she looks withered and almost dessicated, clawing weakly at the edges of her grave as she chokes up dirt before collapsing quiet to the leaves and dirt. -- @ajastor
closed starter for @autumnshowell
Liam twisted his wrist towards him. Two hours and Addie would be finished with school. He let out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. Since school started again, it was somewhat of a relief for him. She had a place to go throughout the day, which meant he wasn't worried as much. However, it also meant he had more responsibilities. Getting up in the mornings, making breakfast, packing her lunch, taking her to school, and picking her up. Then, there was homework. Dinner. Bed. And in between all of that, other shit was happening.
He was doing his best to be supportive of Autumn as Alpha. Then, Jude fucking appeared out of no where. Jude... but not Jude. Which had led Liam to Autumn's home, sitting in a chair in her living room, with a glass of a whatever alcohol he could find in her cabinets. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself any form of substance. The liquid in his glass, however, did not taste normal, which caused his lips to twist upward. It tasted... strong but bitter. Like something had been added to it. "What is this, exactly?"
Autumn stares at Liam from where she slouches on a couch, a cat playing on her belly, batting idly at her finger while she waits to take him to pick Addie up at school - for this reason, she isn't drinking along with him, even if it wouldn't really matter by the time they needed to leave. His question hits her and she almost immediately realizes what's up.
"Uh... Tequila, but er... did that have a red sticker on the bottle?" It's said with questioning worry. "Because that's got... you know... that's Aria's."
She can't help but look apologetic. "Uh, here," she says, putting Thoreau aside and standing, holding her hand up. "Lemme... make you a new one."
Jude's fingers play at his own face, as if he's still trying to figure out what he looks like or feels like. Like, maybe if he touches his nose enough, he'll remember that it has a hard, weird ridge to it that his old nose didn't have. Or maybe he'll get used to the way his ears stick out a little more than they used to, too. When he looks back up at Autumn, she's stopped eating and that makes him frown, too.
"Yeah, you got that right." He wants to laugh to ease the tension, but it doesn't come super easily. Instead he picks at his food at little more. "But yeah, I.. I don't know, I mean it's definitely real. But bad, I couldn't tell you." His hand goes towards the finger bone around his neck, and he strokes at it, like it might give him some answers.
"I'm kind of looking for who this guy is, or who he used to be. But.. there's really not much to go off except he was buried out in the woods. I don't know if he was a recent death or like hundreds of years ago, or.. y'know?"
The way Jude paws at the bony trinket hanging from his neck makes her reach for the jade pikorua hanging from her own neck - it'd been a bracelet up until the night Jude had been shot; its leather weave snapped in the struggle with Fortney and his hunters. She'd gone back after, dug it out of the ground; she'd already given one protective trinket away after it had saved her life - she wasn't going to lose this one too, so now it hung from her neck on a simple chord of leather - it draws her mind to Aria's mother, then to Aria, and finally, back to Jude and his bony talisman.
It's never really sunken in until this moment, how serious all this magical shit really is. It frustrates her.
"Yeah..." she mumbles, and then forces a bite of food into her mouth, trying to reset her thoughts from the wayward wandering. "Could check missing persons stuff? No shortage of that being documented around here..."
She reaches out then, putting her hand on his - like she's making sure this isn't some fucked up dream - she's always at tables eating with dead people in her dreams. "I'm sorry I couldn't be a better friend to you last year - when you were going through it." She says it like this is a dream, like this might be the only chance to say it.
Autumn barely moves at her shove, she feels weak and that just bolsters the anger. She wants to hit her, is ready to, but suddenly she's backed up against the tree by someone who is clearly much stronger. She wonders if it is the unfair advantage of how much further the redhead is in this path. Whatever the reason her nostrils flare with aggravation as her cheek is pressed into rough bark.
She's pinned and her heart rate spikes at the feeling. Even with the anger she can't help the spike in fear. Always pinned. Always at someone else's mercy. And Autumn is right, she does want to bleed her. Wants to make her hurt. Wants to stop being the one who is scared all the fucking time. It's misplaced aggression towards the other. A current scapegoat for a line of people.
Her fingers dig into the ground as she's so easily pushed into the grass, eyes dark as she looks from the other's face to the extended hand. And maybe it is stupid, maybe she should swallow the humility and accept the bridge that is being offered. But to be honest, in her jumbled mind, Autumn is the enemy. She questions if she has ever been anything else but, if their friendship had ever been real.
"Fuck off." She grits out, pushing off the ground.
A flash of territorial anger washes across the whole of her when Ashlyn shirks the offered hand and pushes herself to the ground. "Fine." It's simple as that. There's a deeply mean-spirited part of her that wants to give into the gnashing teeth baring themselves in her mind. To give into the violence that AJ or Aria had been goading her into.
"Suit yourself," Autumn says. She shoulders her bag and turns to stalk across the quad before she does something stupid.
closed starter for: @ajastor @autumnshowell
She'd sent off a text letting AJ know that they were on their way, that the spot they'd discussed setting up should be ready to go. She'd distracted Autumn this morning with plies of sex and food, making sure that it had ended with blood-sharing. Autumn needed it in her system, and the rest would be.. handled.
"So.. listen, I know I said I'm down for this.." Aria starts, wanting to sell some of the hesitation off as her usual distaste for the outdoors. It does remind her of some of the hiking trips they'd taken on the road to New York, but when she glances over at Autumn, she makes sure to give her a bit of a smirk. "Kidding, sweetheart."
She takes Autumn's hand and brings it to her lips, kissing along the knuckles as she pulls off the main roads towards the state park. The itinerary that her fiance knew about was somewhat simple: They'd park a ways off, hike towards their camping site with all their gear, set up camp, and then hike more just for fun or something. She'd protested about the second hike for fun's sake, but there was a lot more to the trip that she was looking forward to.
AJ should meet them near the camp site, at least. She hopes he isn't late or going to complain too much about the heat, sun, or bugs.
-
She hands off one of the packs to Autumn, and slings her own over her shoulders. It's heavy enough that it edges on the limits of her strength, but that was the point, she guesses, of giving her the bigger bag. She shuts the back of the Bronco and lets out a huge, fake sigh. "You so owe me for this." Aria grumbles, but can't fight the smile on her face as she takes in Autumn's excitement.
-
Aria points out a bit of moss that's a bit of an odd color, not the usual greens or yellows one might expect this time of year. It's beautiful, and she stops to take a photo of it. The hike takes longer than initially expected, because she can't help but stop to take photos of birds, bits of flora that would look excellent in a portfolio, and Autumn. By the time they make it to the spot, the memory card is half-full.
She drops her pack almost immediately, doubling over in an exaggerated relief. "You know, if I wasn't a vampire, that shit would have totally fucking killed me." It's another cracked joke about not liking hiking, but she makes sure to keep it light, keep it airy, and pulls Autumn close to her once her pack is dropped, too.
Her hands wander down to her lower back, holding her tightly. "I'm glad we're doing this." And she is, that's not a joke or a lie, but Autumn doesn't know what's in her mind or why she'd been insistent on this area specifically. She dips down for a kiss, starting off slow with a peck or two. Her fangs elongate as the kiss deepens, biting into Autumn's lower lip.
She slides away from her lips, and dips down to her neck. "The hike took it out of me, hon." When she bites down and drinks from her artery, she has no intention of stopping. The night before and this morning, she'd listened when Autumn had pushed her away and warned her, just as she always does. When her hands come up to push her away again, Aria's grip tightens until she's too weak to fight back.
Only when she's swaying in her grasp does she stop and offer her a smile. "I love you, okay? It'll be over soon." Her hands find her neck and twist, the crack echoing through the trees.
Last year, or even just a few months ago, Autumn might have easily come to the thought that she would never camp again, or hike, or any of it. But like it always does, the paranoia settles, the fear subsides. Maybe its a bit of cocksure energy coursing through her in the wake of everything she'd survived since coming back from New York. She'll think on the why of it all later, when they're driving home, but the important part is this: she's excited.
Half a day hike in, walk around, camp out, spend Saturday, and then pack up and head back Sunday. That's the plan - she's got a new camera to play with, to learn, and she's very excited to learn it. Aria'd taken her blood this morning, and so while she doesn't feel sick, she definitely feels a bit less sturdy; this she doesn't hate either; her body recovers quick, and she's fine by the time Aria's pulling them into the parking lot.
Then, it is what it is. Half a day in til they find a good campsite, and then playing with cameras, wandering around, Autumn snickering at Aria's playful whining.
"I'm still shocked you're letting me get away with it, but, I'll make it worth the while."
There's a million ways to repay this debt and none of them - categorically none of them - are things Autumn minds.
They faff around for a while, and then they're close, and Aria dips down to wrap her up in a kiss, and Autumn returns it. There's a prick though, and Autumn murmurs in surprise as the taste of blood lines her teeth, iron and salt and something tinged sweet - not unfamiliar to her, not by a long shot; but still, it smarts enough to get a rise out of her. Aria's statement is a question though - one she knows by tone, and so she thinks nothing of the teeth that sink into her neck; her lover's hungry today, under the sun and after such a walk. Initially, she laughs at the hurt, and lets her fingers dig gently in at the skin of Aria's back in return.
It's that same old feeling she's become fond of, in a way, Aria's teeth trying to pull her inside out, the rush of a lightening head, the tingling numbness at her toes and fingers. The way she goes cold in the heat of summer as she feels her knees weaken.
"Aria, babe that's enough." she says, tugging at the underside of her arm; their universal signal. But it doesn't work, Aria doesn't stop. "Aria-" she says again, arms moving up to try and wedge her hands between them, to push her off - but where that wolfen strength might suffice to push off a vampire who isn't overly concerned with grappling, the death grip Aria has on her tightens to bone-crushing levels Autumn hasn't felt. "Aria." She says, again. "Aria!" She shouts, eyes glazing gold as she tries to shove her off, but that rushing feeling only intensifies. As does the tingling. As does the numbness. As does the cold. There's a moment of adrenaline strenght, Autumn's thought frenzying for a moment as she tries to shove Aria off - worried she's lost her self in a frenzy, worried that she doesn't know what she's doing.
Aria gives away, for just a second, but Autumn's arms feel so hollow and spongey that it's only for a second, and breathing feels hard, like the whole of her's too hard to carry on her feet. She's lost her luster, too, when she sags into Aria's arms, eyes searching the blood-soaked whites of her eyes - she even murmurs something, but it's a slurred, murky sound. There's the briefest sense that Aria's comforting her, putting her hands on her cheeks and cooing comofrt - a familiar sense, one that puts her at ease before everything becomes nothing.
— @ajastor
The thought strikes her - now that things are settled - they can go on a trip together, get things truly ready. Aria's fingers splay along Autumn's stomach, holding her close as the air starts to smell of gunpowder and smoke. It drifts from over the water, and she burrows her head into Autumn's hair to smell her instead. "Might take all day, hm?" She presses a kiss beneath her ear, "I'll go on a trip with you."
She loves these moments they get, where they can pretend that it's not all terrifying out there. Where they can be together, show their love for each other, and forget about what it took to get to this point. She's grateful for the snow being gone, and grateful for Autumn still wanting her no matter how much she's fucked up or how much she can't remember the beginning of their relationship.
Aria breathes her in again, "Yeah. Let's go camping."
Autumn's nose wrinkles for all the scents in the air, but she's on cloud 9 so no real heed is paid to it as Aria holds onto her and she spins a finger around the rim of her glass idly.
Then, she sits up, surprised, as if that'd been much more of a simple ask than she thought. "Really?" It only serves to brighten her face. A weekend, out in the woods. "Maybe we make an early drive of it? Go to the border? No worry about hunters or anything then - or like, you know. Just outof town. Spend a couple night off grid. We can do it after I finish school for the term, in August."
She turns, craning to throw herself on Aria in a kissing frenzy. "You mean it?" She kisses her again. "We can go-" another kiss. "To the flea market." She kisses her again. "I can get a cheap camera to start with maybe if we can find it." Another one. "And film, or batteries or whatever." Another. "We can close the shop for the weekend?" Another, this time her hands grip Aria's cheeks instead, wine set aside and all but forgotten. "See if someone'll cover it otherwise." Another. "I'll make you love it." Another.
And another and another, until she pulls Aria down to her level, and the fireworks in the sky aren't the only ones filling the night's air in Port Leiry that evening.
It's not as cold here, in the diner, and he's grateful. But Autumn's bluntness is something he can safely say he's missed. It's an odd feeling. In all reality, the time between death and resurrection did pass but to him it feels.. shortened. A blink, even. How can you miss someone if you've only blinked? Surely, the afterlife had some sort of consciousness to it. But he offers her a smile and a shake of his head - to say he doesn't understand it either.
"Yeah. The last thing I remember is the biker guy, and then next thing I know, I'm pulling myself up out of a shallow grave in the middle of the woods." There's really not much more to it than that, because even if he did understand magic, he wouldn't be able to give Autumn an explanation as to why. "As far as I can tell.. I'm fully human now, too."
As for picking up where they left off, he shakes his head. "Naw. I mean, things are crazy different, right? You.. I mean, it's been a few months. You must have gone through a lot of stuff since then, and me - same mind, same.. soul, I guess? But I was planning on leaving, and now I want nothing more than to stay. I was giving up too fast back then."
There's a sudden, unexpected tinge of emotion at something Jude says - fully human now. She can't figure out why that hurts - if its the implication that she isn't fully human you aren't or if it's a quiet mental moan of jealousy of what, being frail meat? or if it's some sort of betrayal as if Jude had any choice in this happening never forget that bullet was meant for you.
She's suddenly not hungry for anything on the menu or at the table or in any cup.
"The people we trust not giving a shit makes it hard not to give up fast sometimes," she says, playing ith a salt-packet. Autumn sinks into the booth. "Sorry, I can't help but feel like this isn't real or... bad or something. Like..." She looks at him. "It can't just be poof, you're alive with a... different face, right? Like who are you... who is this guy's family? People don't just... come back from the dead and everything's fine. It doesn't work like that, right? There's always something... bad."
She pauses for a moment, gears turning as she takes in Autumn's words. Was she having a conversation with herself? Now she feels a little embarrassed if she was, but it seems embarrassment is fueling the agitation too, her hand nearly white knuckling the strap of her bag. Her other hand is balling into a fist. Her face doesn't give anything away but annoyance. Especially at the smug look on Autumn's face as she treats her like an idiot. Her jaw clenches, the anger is building, she wants to wipe that smug ass look off the others face.
That is another thing she is beginning to notice, how quickly the darker thoughts she used to be able to push away so easily seem to bloom. She's never been a violent person, per se, everything was based on survival. But right now? She isn't in danger, but she wants to hurt her.
'Dipshit.'
That single insult does it. The rest of the words seem to become whispered murmurs. The same word playing over and over. Words from their last fight in this fucking school's bathroom blossoming and ricocheting in her head. It isn't emotions or pulsing magic that comes at Autumn. It isn't words or insults. It's all physical aggression. Bag sounding with a thump as she clears what little distance they have between them and shoves as hard as she fucking can.
"Don't fucking talk to me like that you smug ass bitch." She grits out.
She senses it before it happens, that cortisol tinge that taints the air with a smell she knows but couldn't describe beyond a word; anger. Ashlyn's angry. The motion after that follows is provocation enough for Autumn to shove through it, backing Ashlyn against the tree before she makes a grab of her own, pinning the girl's other cheek against the tree-bark with a snarl.
"You feel that? The way you wanna fucking bleed me right now? Wait until you're looking at everybody like that and wondering what they fucking taste like. This isn't a quarter of it, Ashlyn."
She throws her to the grass. She won't be made to look small or weak. She can't now, but as much as she wants to do worse, she can't do that either. Not when people are already looking their way, curiously. Not when she has a pack looking to her for a path forward, but she isn't going to beg to help somebody who's been a thorn in her side since they'd collided into each other again a year go.
"Last chance," she says gravely, hand out.
The roof and its view are beautiful - a nice time to relax, rather than bundle up and hide away or panic due to the world around them changing again. She takes the cup from Autumn and rests a free hand on her stomach, stroking along the fabric that covers it with her thumb. The fireworks in the distance bring just enough colorful glow over the city, over them, that Aria feels like she can finally let the tension out of her shoulders.
The mad dash the last few weeks just before the attack was finally over, and it just needed the right time to make it work. Soon, she promises herself as she takes a sip of the drink and then tucks her lips into Autumn's hair.
She doesn't get far before the woman in question is tilting back up and jamming her fingers into her face. Aria's nose wrinkles up, but she's smiling. "Gonna take my shtick?" The cup is set down and she pulls Autumn's 'viewfinder' out of her face, kissing the fingers before she does. "I can help you out a little, if you want."
Autumn's teeth show behind her smile when Aria's kiss touches the top of her head, and then show again, wider and with an accompaniment of laughter when Aria pulls her badgering hands into a kiss. "No, just borrow it." She sits up, only a little, to take a sip of her own drink before setting it back down to nestle in again.
"Yeah, I was thinking of going to the flea-market this weekend to see if I can find a cheap old one to play with. Because like, you know. I wanna go hiking more." Now that it's safe, with those things gone. "Then i can make you come to show me how to work it-" then she gets a little cheeky, "-might take all day. We might have to camp out, it'd take so long.." Because even now, alone's not safe. Jude's killer's dead, but there are more where that came from.
It's really just an excuse to be closer with her and to learn from her, as if she needs one. But Autumn's head latches onto these ideas and runs away with them, no matter how hackneyed. A cool breeze drifts across the building top, blown in from the nearby sea, and Autumn adjusts herself again, laying her hands on her chest as she takes in a deep breath and relaxes into Aria just a bit more.
The more Autumn talks the more her aggravation bristles. She isn't sure which part of her conjures the feeling of being told what to do, or what part of her knows that the redhead is just trying to be helpful despite everything that has happened between them. But the more aggressive side is winning out fast. It peaks when she mentions her mother again. Makes it sound like they are in this together, like this isn't Ashlyn's life imploding further. Her brows pull together, her turn to look frustrated.
"Listen I get that you are trying to help, but I really don't need you dictating what I do. I'm not your pet project because you feel guilty, or obligated, or whatever. So back off." She does pick up her bag this time and slings it onto her shoulder. She's so tired of people telling her what she needs to do. What she should do. Autumn wasn't the only source for this, and someone further from her would be preferred.
"You aren't the only wolf in this city. And I told you I can handle my mother on my own. I don't need your fucking pity. And I don't need you acting like you even want to be here. You bit me, so what? I'm over it. So you should get over it too."
She squints at Ashlyn's response, initially surprised and confused. Is it guilt? Is it? Is it guilt that'd put her stomach in knots, that'd had her seek Ashlyn out? Maybe it was.
But if that's the truth, now Ashlyn's never going to hear it - because Autumn's face melts from one of indignant concern to something colder and made of stone, her brows setting into an expression of smug irritation. She lets Ashlyn have her little rant, arms folded as she looks her over. "See, here's my issue. It's like you're having a whole fucking conversation with yourself. Who said I was the only one?" A hand lifts, and her finger motions between them. "And what, dipshit, about any of this tells you I'm acting like I want to be here? Because if I've somehow come across as wanting to be here I've really fucking led you astray."
She can see something in Autumn's eyes that she wants to ignore, a faint whiff of something she hasn't learned to place yet, because it comes and goes, these strong scents that dull just as soon as they blossom. She doesn't know how to explain she can already feel herself changing. That one moment she can feel the ground thrumming with a feeling she's always known and then it collapses, disappears, and there is nothing. She feels lost. She isn't trying to be difficult, but knows it must be coming off as such.
"I'm not butt hurt, Autumn. Irritated still? Sure. But you did draw a line and I respect it. That…stuff was fucked, I get that. And it sucks that it took that whole blow up for me to realize it wasn't even something I really felt. But it's in the past." She breathes through her nose. Face scrunching, flinching at the things Autumn is describing. Because she knows she can't do this alone, no matter how stubborn she wants to be.
"I just don't want you to think you have to be responsible for me." She looks down. "I was kind of a creep. I don't want you to feel obligated to deal with me just because of something out of everyone's control, ya know? I'm not trying to be a bitch. I just…it's a lot. I'm sure you know. I've been trying to kind of piece things out on my own."
The headache isn't really going away, but Autumn's expression softens into something less sharply annoyed. She takes one last steadying breath, because she only half believes her.
"The last thing you want to be right now is on your own, I promise. You're gonna start feeling pretty sick soon, and a sweater's not gonna help - best come up with a story for that arm - doesn't matter if it's flimsy." Her thoughts pass to the mangled flesh on her own shoulder.
"And we have to figure out how to deal with your mom, because with how you talk about her I'm sure she's gonna figure it out."
She lets her arm sit out in the open a moment more before pushing her sleeve back down to cover it, not wanting anyone else possibly catching sight of it. She supposes she should be freaking out herself. Should be worried, be reactive. But next to the anger most things feel numb. She doesn't know a lot about lycanthropy, but she knows there are others that she can ask. Places she can go. She doesn't want this on Autumn. She was alone now, and she was fine to learn how to stand with that.
"It's fine. I'm not your responsibility." She says, because she isn't. She's about to grab her bag again, but freezes at the question about her mom. Hours spent scrubbing at the kitchen floor, at the back splash. Getting rid of the body, treating it like just another one of the casualties. Because that is all she had been in the end. Gold veined throat bobs a moment before she regains her composure.
"No, she's out of town for a seminar. I didn't want to make it a thing before she left."
Autumn's eyes roll, jaw clenching and unclenching as she feels a blooming star of frustration spark to life a dull headache behind her eyes. Further, there's something off in Ashlyn's answer that she can't quite place. With a sigh and then a deep breath, she speaks with graveness. "I get it, you're butt hurt. I don't care. 'Cause in a couple weeks? Every bone's going to break. Hair. Everywhere. Teeth you didn't know you had splitting your mouth open from the inside." She motions to her own belly. "Fucking teats, Ash. Six of 'em."
"But that's not even the worst part. That's when you wake up naked and afraid with no idea where the fuck you are and you're burping up blood and raw meat for a few hours - that's a special first for everyone, I'm sure. You wanna tell me to fuck off? I drew a line and I'm crossing it to try and help you. Don't want it? Fine, but this is the only time I'm gonna offer it."
The sun feels nice, even if the heat of it makes her feel clammy, skin overheated beneath the material of the sleeves of her top. At Autumn's demand her eyes narrow slightly. Her tone is even but Ashlyn's ire has been rising quicker since the whole incident, she knows it is a further sign into what she is becoming. Wonders what other ticks will start to show. Wonders if over time she won't be able to hide behind fake smiles and pleasantries.
"It's called asking. You don't have to be a bitch about it." She tells her, and maybe there is still some anger lingering from their last talk. At Autumn's outburst and mocking tone. Of her own outburst. But she very much doubts they'll address any of that. She isn't sure she wants to or can handle another thing on her plate currently.
"And I am fine." Slipping her bag off her shoulder she lets it fall to the ground beside her and glances around for a moment then lifts her left arm, sliding her sleeve up enough to reveal what the redhead is wanting to confirm. "See. Fine."
Autumn's stare stays steady, looking over Ashlyn's features while she tries to get past the strange scent that is witch and human and werewolf starting to feather and dovetail together. Her mind turns the problem over again and again - what needs to be done. What she owes. The thoughts are raked through like coals while Ashlyn moves to push her sleeve up.
Laying eyes on it makes her shake her head. "Fuck," she practically spits out, pacing in a tight circle - annoyed or angry or equal parts of both.
For all she might have prepared herself, it still makes her chest seize and her stomach drop, pulled down by guilt and anger, neither of which really have anywhere to go save out through fingertips that dig at the edges of her nail beds.
She looks at it again, where Ash's arm hangs loose to her side. Fuck!
Autumn clenches her jaw, shuts her eyes, and takes breath before swallowing the nausea down and looking up to Ashlyn. "S'your mom know yet?"
