thistle & weeds @beckersavage - Tumblr Blog

camdensavage‌:

There was something there in the moment that he took the medal, almost a silent acknowledgement of the potential danger, in a way that he had been very good about not showing before this moment. It was hard to say if that made him feel better or worse. Maybe in a strange way it helped; it felt as if even the smallest acknowledgement of the danger these part-humans could pose meant they would be better prepared, if it was the case. Because, despite the preparations he had made, Camden knew well enough that he had never been the fighter of the two of them, and no stake, or holy water would change that.

Still, at least for now, there was no use in lingering on the worry before they even arrived at the coven. There would be plenty of time for that once they saw what they had in store, why they had called aurors down to take care of their problems.

He let out a scoff of laughter; his brother was right, no matter when they came, she would find a reason to chide them for not coming at the right time, even if they arrived precisely when he had said they would. The thought of the visit, at least, might help get him through dealing with the creatures more easily. “Of course, so let’s give her less reason to complain, take care of this as quickly as possible,” he nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette. He let out a breath of smoke in a sigh, and then turned towards the dirt path leading into a not-quite woods, the way towards the coven’s home.

“Suppose we should meet these creatures first, though, God help us.”

The tree-cover around where the coven was located was sparse, just enough to cover them from the road, but the dirt path leading there was long -- long enough that the tight feeling of nerves in the pit of his stomach only worsened as they walked. Before reaching the door, he had to stop and take a breath, reminding himself that these vampires were the ones who had been wronged, in this case, the victims asking them for their help, and he needed to treat them like he would any other victim.

“Ready?” he asked Camden, as they finally reached the door of the coven’s home -- an old looking but not quite dilapidated mansion, its white paint aged to yellowing with time, its front wooden stairs creaky and off-kilter between the tall columns that appeared to hold up a second-story balcony.

He waited for Camden’s go-ahead before knocking on the door -- a firm and certain movement, three quick but loud raps on the peeling wood of the door. But time seemed to stretch out for ages, before he began to hear noise on the other side of the door, before eventually the handle turned and a shadowed figure appeared beyond the partially opened door.

“Sergeant Becker Savage,” he said, holding up his badge. “We’re here to speak to Ariana Astrid, she asked us to be here.”

#( &. camden savage )#( &. vampire coven in bowling green )

ellisboothe‌:

“Well I should hope so,” he quips back, his lips slowly curling into a sly grin around his cigarette, “I was actually looking forward to the challenge.” After shooting a quick wink in the other auror’s direction, more just to annoy him than anything, he takes one last drag before stomping out the cigarette on the pavement.

In all reality he of course had little intention to try to change Becker’s mind about him, seeing no real benefit to, and knowing the cause was a bit lost by this point anyway. Fortunately getting off of Becker Savage’s shit list wasn’t the goal of the case today, but rather figure out who was poisoning the lovesick locals. Looking up at the shop’s sign where it hung over the establishment’s door, he lets out a quiet groan, not exactly looking forward to the task ahead of them.

“So you got any way you want to run this thing? Or you just want to do it on the fly? I’m open to whatever as long as it doesn’t end up with us spending the night in fuckin’ Pittsburgh.”

“On the fly?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow in Boothe’s direction. A part of him would have been half-amused to see what kind of on the fly investigation his partner thought was appropriate for this kind of case, but the larger part of him knew that this could be a matter of life and death. Poisoned potions weren’t the same caliber of case that he knew Boothe had become accustomed to dealing with.

So he shook his head, slipping his telekit into his pocket and wondering why Boothe had even agreed to taking this case in the first place.

“The first thing we need is a record of everyone who has purchased potions that include the allegedly poisoned ingredient, from the owner, so we can start contacting anyone who might still have one. See if we can connect any other incidents to this batch of ingredients, and if so, warn them of the danger at hand.”

#( &. ellis boothe )#( &. poisoned love potions in pittsburgh )#I'm glad all of my gifs make it look like Becker as an exasperated dad at all times because....... accurate

camdensavage

sunset, the outskirts of bowling green, kentucky ( @beckersavage )

There was some small part of him that had been hoping that whatever problems the vampires would be miraculously solved before they could actually leave for Kentucky, but there was no such luck, of course. That did nothing for the sense of impending doom that seemed to throb within his very soul in time with the throbbing in the palm of his hand. All prayer had seemingly fallen on deaf ears, and he had found himself packing something of a holy kit, for the event that Margot was right, and there was no before of a bad situation with creatures such as this. Holy water, crucifixes, stakes, the medal of Saint George worn around his neck, the cold medal of the pendant pressing against the top of his sacred heart, and yet somehow it still didn’t feel like enough.

For now, though, worrying would be pointless. That was best saved for entering the domain of the creatures. Now, though, they had just apparated to the designated spot, a safe distance from both the town and the coven, just as the sky was beginning to turn purple. As soon as they touched ground, he reached into his pocket, first pulling out a cigarette and putting it between his lips, then, before lighting it, holding out a silver medal just like his to Becker.

“Here, I had this blessed for you, just in case,” he explained, pausing after to light his cigarette. “Told Mama we’d be round for breakfast tomorrow mornin’ and to have the cornbread ready. Too generous of an estimate?”

beckersavage

He looked at the medal, for a moment, in Camden’s hand, the familiar embossed figure of Saint George starkly visible even in the quietly dimming light of dusk. Back in the office, getting ready to go, he hadn’t been thinking about the danger of his case, of dealing with part-humans like vampires, not really. Consciously, he knew it wasn’t any more dangerous than any other case -- the kinds of cases involving wix and no-maj that he worked every day. An ordinary wix had been responsible for the case that cost him his leg, no part-humans necessary.

But the sight of the medal, and maybe something about being back in Kentucky, his priest of a brother by his side, made the superstitions he’d grown up with come back, just a slight tightening in the back of his throat, a not-quite-nausea passing through him. What if Camden was right, what if he was wrong? What if the vampires really did mean them some kind of harm, if this was a trap?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts out of his mind. It was never productive to assume the worst of people -- human or not -- that he’d never met. It wasn’t useful to be worried over nothing.

“Thanks,” he said, taking the medal, and his voice came out tight. He cleared this throat, for a moment, and then turned to Camden. “Generous or not, whenever we get there she’ll complain that we’re late.”

#( &. camden savage )#( &. vampire coven in bowling green )

ellisboothe

location: the dreamworld dispensary

time: 10:50am

status: closed to @beckersavage

By the grace of merlin, morgana, or whoever the hell he’s supposed to be praying to, Ellis has managed to show up early to the dispensary he was supposed to meet the older Savage at that afternoon. Unintended or not, the brief time to himself does give him a minute to case the place out, not that he was planning some grand heist here or anything. He didn’t give too much thought into what he picked from a crime scene, but nicking potentially poisoned supplies was even pushing it for him. Of course the raw ingredients were still fair game, but that was a whole other thing altogether.

He’s just stepped back out from the alley beside the shop when he hears the pop of someone apparating in front of the store. Stomping out the cigarette that’d been hanging loosely from his lips, he makes himself known with a quick clear of the throat before waving in the wizard’s direction.

“Better late then never, huh Savage?”

beckersavage

He’s expecting Boothe to be late.

It wasn’t, exactly, presumptuous of him. Just a fact learned over time. Boothe, it was known, was always late, always unreliable. A damn shame, Becker had once thought, watching the other auror waste away, wasting his talents on low-level cases and wasting his potential to an attitude of resignation and defiance. He used to think Boothe had promise, but it’s clear he was wrong. So when he gets there, ten minutes before the agreed upon time, he’s expecting to be left waiting for at least fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.

Boothe rounding the corner at him, cigarette in hand, would be a shock, if he hadn’t already learned not to let Ellis Booth surprise him.

“Thought I’d start our partnership off on the right foot,” he intones, deadpan, to the other man. “Meet you halfway and all that. Don’t tell me you got here early just to impress me? I’m honored, but it’ll take more than that.”

#omg no worries I'm slow as shit right now #( &. ellis boothe )#( &. poisoned love potions in pittsburgh )

camdensavage‌:

He let out a humorless laugh, and shook his head slightly. Just ask them, like it was that simple, and beings with no souls would be happy to tell them the truth behind their secret plans. “Sure, Beck, we’ll just ask them once we get there,” he said, only barely holding back an eye roll. The thing was, though, that he knew in the back of his mind, no matter that Snow had thrown this case on his desk, not Becker’s, that whatever his brother thought was the best course of action, he’d gladly follow it. Even if that meant asking them what they were truly trying to get from calling aurors in to settle a petty squabble.

Either way, there was no use in complaining any more about it now. They were going to have to go, whether he liked it or not, and they were going to have to deal directly with the vampires. There was time to prepare, to make certain that even if Becker was certain these vampires deserved the assumption of innocence until proven guilty, he would be ready for when they inevitably proved differently. For now, though, he just felt exhausted, thoughts threatening to turn back to the uncertainty, the worry that he also would prove that he’d never deserved that benefit, either, and soon. The stinging of his palm, and the words on the case file seemed to confirm that.

“I’m tired of thinking about this nonsense. Are you heading home soon?”

“As soon as I finish this paperwork,” he answered with a nod, gesturing down at the file he’d been filling out, ink smeared across the page from where Camden had knocked his fountain pen out of his hand with the new case file. It was going on five, now: he should have been finished, would have been finished if Camden hadn’t interrupted, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t the type to leave work with anything unfinished, and Elena was used to his being late for dinner.

With a flick of his wand, he cleaned the smudged ink off of the page, taking some of the writing with it so that he could start over, more cleanly, and passed the Bowling Green case file back to Camden. Then, he switched his wand out for his fountain pen, pausing for a moment as if to remember where he’d been before he’d had to stop and focus his attention on something else.

“Twenty minutes,” he told Camden, before letting his gaze move back to the paperwork. “Let me get this to Snow, and then we can head home.”

#( &. camden savage )

camdensavage‌:

It was always a comfort, of sorts, just how sure Becker was always able to sound about things. Of course, that was what they needed to worry about, now. The tone that he had, certain, plain and simple, made everything seem that much more obvious, without any sort of condescension or pride. Just decisiveness. He’d never been as good at that part, always something judgmental in his own certainty. He had thought, on more than one occasion, perhaps not with such pure intentions, that if his brother ever wanted, he could easily use that skill of his to his advantage. If it ever came to it.

And now he wondered, vaguely, if that sort of confidence would work on vampires.

Camden had about a dozen different unholy ideas of why a horde of vampires might’ve called in a group of aurors to take care of something like this, and each one he liked less and less. This was the sort of case that seemed simple enough on the outside, but had too many unknowns, too many risks attached.

“Sure, it’s possible. Maybe they’ve already started takin’ care of things the way part-humans usually do, with violence and vengeance, but they want us to see. Could be a chance to send a message, or a warning,” he shrugged. “I don’t think we have much precedent for vampires callin’ in aurors on humans. It’s hard to try to think like a soulless creature, what secrets they keep.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to ask them,” he replied, simply. Really, there wasn’t much use jumping to the worst conclusions before they left. If things were bad, down there, they’d handle it like they did any other case: carefully, deliberately, and with the good judgment at least one of them had inherited from their parents.

He wasn’t sure, really, why he was so determined to give these vampires the benefit of the doubt, while Camden was already so set on the fact that whatever this was was a trick or a trap. Well, he knew exactly why Camden was so certain of it -- because Camden was certain that anything unholy was also, automatically, evil. Not the most nuanced of understandings of morality, but it was what the church had always taught them. Becker, on the other hand, was more of the mindset that morality was determined entirely by actions -- it didn’t matter if the vampires were unholy beings, if their actions could prove they were capable of being good, of being moral beings.

Maybe, just maybe, he was hoping these vampires were going to prove Camden wrong.

#( &. camden savage )

annaharvey-deactivated20191104

location: break-room, eastern squad offices.

time: nine-twelve am.

( open. )

it was quiet when hazel arrived at the offices, only a few unfamiliar faces present amidst a crowd of desks and paperwork. despite the early hour, it seemed most of the eastern squad was out on assignment already, and hazel was far from complaining. she preferred to settle into the office before everyone picked her as fresh meat. if she were in their place she’d be curious too — a new auror officer that most of them had never seen before ! — but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to the stares and the whispers.

she dropped her things at the first empty desk she came across and then made a beeline for the break-room. she could already feel eyes on her, but astutely ignored them. coffee first. if her time living in the uk had taught her anything, it was that tea was vastly overrated, and with a shot of espresso she could take on anything.

she brewed the beverage, took a sip, and then corrected herself. she could do anything with a shot of good espresso. “ of course it still tastes like goddamn monkey piss. ” for all the changes the department seemed to have gone through in her absence, she had hoped coffee quality was one. no such luck.

a chuckle sounded from behind hazel and she reddened at being overheard. she turned in its direction, hands warmed by the cup she held, a little defensive. “ you disagree ? ”

beckersavage

New faces came and went, in the Eastern Squad: he’d seen so many of them, in his time, coming and going, staying for a while, only a handful sticking around. A cynic would think there was no point to introducing himself anymore, getting to know any of them. But Becker wasn’t a cynic. He was a gentleman. And that meant taking the time out of his day to, at the very least, introduce himself to the new recruits, the transfers, any face new to the office, and make them feel welcome, even if they wouldn’t stick around.

He came across their newest transfer in the break room, fairly early in the day, frowning over a cup of coffee -- Snow loved the coffee his fancy new machine made, but it seemed a fairly solid consensus around the office that the stuff tasted terrible. Becker, for his own part, had his coffee at home in the morning just to avoid it. It seemed like this witch was already going to fit right in.

“Absolutely not. But you get used to the taste.”

He gave her a warm smile once she’d turned to face him, crossing the small distance between them. There was something familiar about her face, which he couldn’t quite place -- not as if he knew her, but still, something at the back of his mind telling him he might.

“Becker Savage,” he introduced himself, offering her his hand. “Welcome to the squad, Ms...?”

#( &. hazel brendanawicz )

camdensavage‌:

The act of Becker wrapping up his hand, bandaging the wound again with fresh gauze felt appropriate. A solemn, intimate thing that said more and gave more comfort than any words he might’ve said in response could have. Even if there was little to be done about the creeping dread that sat in his very soul, knowing that whatever happened he would have Becker by his side, made it feel easier to swallow. This was what it was all for, after all.

He sighed, and leaned against Becker’s desk, pulling the silver cigarette case from his pocket and taking a cigarette out. Back to business, of course, but that didn’t mean he was any happier about the case they had to deal with than before. When he lit his cigarette this time, he smoked it with his unwounded hand. “A few so-called hate crimes, with no real suspects, but that one lost soul. No escalation, as of yet, so I honestly don’t see why they need us down there,” Camden explained, waving his newly bandaged hand vaguely. It didn’t matter, though, because they had to go, whether it made sense or not.

“The creatures called us in; specifically demanded that MACUSA send aurors. I’d hate to assume the worst, but to me that detail makes it feel like there’s somethin’ being hidden,” he paused, semi-thoughtfully. A self-aware, humorless laugh escaped his lips. “I take that back. Assuming the worst is only fair when it comes to the damned undead.”

He listened patiently to Camden’s explanation, again brushing the leftover ash off of the case file on his desk and taking a second look, matching up the facts Snow had given them with the details Camden was recalling.

“Then it’s a question of what, exactly, is being hidden that we need to worry about, right now,” he said, decisively.

He had no real love for vampires, but neither did he harbor the hatred for them that Camden did. Part-humans couldn’t exactly be held to the same standards for morality that humans, both wix and no-maj, could; he’d come to terms with that early on in this job, as much as he didn’t like the idea of it. So while he knew Camden would be certain that the vampires were hiding something in order to trick them, in order to get something from them, he wasn’t quite so sure that was the case.

“It’s possible that things have gotten worse than they’re letting on. That things have escalated in a way they’re not at liberty to file in a formal report of the situation, for whatever reason.”

#( &. camden savage )

theaurorfileshq

– Poisoned Love Potion in Pittsburgh

CASE LEVEL: One

POINTS REQUIRED: One Hundred Ten

OVERVIEW:

The Dreamworld Dispensary, a popular and trendy apothecary designed to provide products like sleep and dream potions, luck potions, and love potions to the young wix population in and around Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania has recently been found to be the point of origin for several alleged love potions which, when consumed, cased seizures, respiratory failure, and in one case death.

So far, three of the faulty potions have been discovered, the most recent of which caused its victim to suffer from a grand mal seizure and fall into a coma. When his ex-girlfriend brought him to the mediwixes, she reported that he had just consumed a potion bought from the Dreamworld Dispensary, which she had purchased earlier that day. That information led to the discovery that all of the responsible potions had also been purchased from Dreamworld; federal aurors have been called onto the scene to both find out who is responsible, and to track down any other potions that may have been tampered with or poisoned before those, too, can be consumed.

PERSONS OF INTEREST:

Su-Jin Pak: owner of the The Dreamworld Dispensary, Su-Jin insists that the love potions at fault are due to a sabotaged shipment of Ashwinder Eggs, and directed the initial aurors to her supplier.

Avraham Mikhailov: Pak’s supplier, Mikhailov has a stellar reputation amongst various apothecaries and potion-makers throughout Pennsylvania, and seemingly no connection to any of the victims, or an apparent reason to want to sabotage Pak. However, even if Pak is wrong and he isn’t responsible, he may provide valuable insight in examining the faulty potions.

Leilani Davis: the 22 year old woman who directed aurors to the Dreamworld Dispensary in their search. She purchased the most recent love potion, apparently in order to win back her ex-boyfriend, Kyle. He is currently in critical condition and she is distraught.

CHIEF’S NOTES:

Due to the fact all the poisoned potions stem from the one apothecary, I would center your investigation there, no matter how much Pak likes it or not. Even if its not one of her own employees, it could still be someone else with ties to the shop.

Good luck out there,

-Allen Snow

CASE STATUS: TAKEN

#( &. case directory )#( &. poisoned love potions in pittsburgh )

camdensavage‌:

Admitting out loud that he felt lost, even just the slightest bit, was something between relief and agony. He had never liked uncertainty; hell, he’d never really been uncertain, everything he did was with such conviction that there was no room for doubt in his mind. And it wasn’t that there was doubt now. No, if he was given the chance, right this moment, to go back to his old life, to go home, back to the parish, back to the priesthood, he wouldn’t have taken it. He was here for a reason, after all, and he refused to leave his brother alone with the danger again.

But there was a creeping worry, that only seemed to grow every day, that here he could never be anywhere near as good as he had been before, no matter how much good of a different nature he was able to do as an auror. Something was different, and he wasn’t sure if it was him, or the world, or God, but the case that had fallen into his lap and the cuts on the palm of his hand only seemed to be confirmation of all those fears.

He took in a sharp breath as the liquid touched the wound, but kept his eyes intently on Becker. “Yeah, that’s what we’re doing,” he muttered in agreement, like maybe if he said it too, it’d start to feel as true as it sounded when his brother said it. “Just wish it all made a little more sense. But you’re right. What’d the point be if it was easy? Guess there’s a reason we’ve gotta do it, instead of waitin’ for someone else to.”

He kept his gaze on Camden’s hand as he finished cleaning it, tore a clean new bandage and wrapped it firm but not too tight around his brother’s hand. A meditative gesture, winding the bandage carefully, tying it securely, tucking the loose edges away where they wouldn’t get in the way.

The problem was that Becker wasn’t sure how to help. Being an auror had always made perfect sense to him. It still did. Even in the worst moments of his recovery, even the morning he woke up in a hospital missing a leg, even through the pain of learning to walk again with the prosthetic that had been fitted to replace it, he’d never once questioned what he was doing. He had never once in his life questioned it, from the moment he set foot in the New Orleans Academy to this very moment at his desk.

“Speaking of things we’ve got to do,” he said, hoping that now would be the right time to turn his brother’s focus back to the case they were supposed to be working on. There would never be a good time, but at least now it was more likely Camden would react to it with a sort of baleful resignation rather than with righteous fury. “Tell me about this new case Snow’s sending us on.”

#( &. camden savage )

camdensavage‌:

He frowned, despite himself, as Becker pulled the bandage away, revealing the evidence of his dreams. Eyes, cut deep into his palm, staring back up at both of them. It didn’t look badly infected, at least not yet, but it also looked more grotesque, in his eyes, than he remembered any of the others having looked in this stage. Red and angry, a reminder that he had to bear the sin on his body for all those he abandoned. But it felt like a perversion, especially looking at it here, in the harsh light of the office, like something purely selfish, not a sign from God.

Only a half-curious, half challenging glance up, the sort of look he’d given Becker often as a child, whenever he did something unexplainable, nearly afraid to see the look on his brother’s face at the sight, but his face was calm, accepting, as it always was. As he went about pulling out his little kit of goodies, Camden didn’t look down at his palm again, instead focusing on the way Becker’s hands moved, always precise, always with purpose, good. He wished that his could be like that, too.

His words made it a little easier to fall into the usual, even if he did plan to take them to heart, and switch hands, at least for now. “Thank you, Healer Savage, for stating the obvious,” he scoffed, although with not nearly as much bite as he meant. He was silent for a second before admitting a bit of truth. “This morning, I thought about healin’ it up, lettin’ this one go. It’s not the same as the others…the thought of havin’ something for everyone to see, judge…I’m not going to, I can’t, but it feels pointed. Like a test. Or maybe a warning. And now this God forsaken case to deal with, too. I wish I knew what the hell I was doin’ anymore, Beck.”

It wasn’t surprising, to hear his brother open up finally, to hear him admit that it wasn’t just vampires that were bothering him, that there was something different about the eyes carved into his palm from the heart on his chest or the cross on his arm, all kept carefully covered, secreted away like a rosary in his pocket. Camden had been... if not better, when he was a priest, at least more sure of himself, more sure of the state of the world around him, and Becker knew that it was weighing on him to be here.

If he could have given his blessing to Camden to quit this job and go back to the church, he would have; if he thought it would help, at all, or that Camden would even listen, he wouldn’t have hesitated. It had been years, now, since the injury that had taken him out of the field, the prolonged period of recovery that had brought Camden here. Long enough that while he didn’t feel guilty for it, he had started waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We’re doing what we’ve always done, Cam,” he said, finally, his voice low as he started to flush the wound out with the contents of the vial. “We’re makin’ the world a better place. No one ever said it was gonna be easy.”

#( &. camden savage )

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Becker Johannes Savage

NICKNAME(S): Beck (to his family)

AGE: 49

DATE OF BIRTH: August 29, 1895

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

SEXUALITY: heterosexual

GENDER IDENTITY: trans man

PRONOUNS: he/him

#( &. oh how you try to command it all still | inspo )#me: writes 'heterosexual'#also me: 'is he tho???'

camdensavage‌:

He couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than letting his thoughts remain occupied with the case sitting open on Becker’s desk now. The thing was, though, that once his brother had decided on something, he wasn’t going to stop until he achieved what he planned, and right now that plan seemed to be to assess the bandage covering the palm of his hand. And now he had Camden starting to worry about it, too, worry that maybe he hadn’t been quite as thorough with tending to it as he should’ve been so far.

“Fine,” he conceded with a grumble and a grand eye roll. He took one last drag of his cigarette, before putting it out on Snow’s handwritten note, sitting on top of the pile of papers. It let a small hole in Snow’s signature, the cigarette abandoned carnage on the paper. He shook his head lightly, but held out his hand for Becker to see, palm up.

“You plannin’ on giving it a kiss, make it all better?” he teased despite himself. The calm, but firm insistence, coupled with the silent worry only someone who knew him well could hear in his voice, reminded Camden so thoroughly of something their mother would’ve done when they were kids, he couldn’t stop himself from it. No matter what Becker thought of himself, he had always been a caregiver, to people in need, to his son, to him. He cared more deeply and concretely than he liked to admit clearly, something not even he had mastered in his years as a man of the cloth.

He bit back a retort, not wanting to push the issue lest Camden decide it was a great idea to keep fighting him on this, and instead turned his focus to the bandage loosely tied around his brother’s palm. He untied it, making an effort not to balk at the wound, the clean deep lines of it, the twisted shape. It seemed like a horribly impractical place for something like this, but then again, that was devotion for you.

There was a medical kit, in his desk drawer -- a few basic healing salves for the kinds of every day scrapes and scratches one couldn’t avoid. Being a father would have made Becker prepared for anything, if he hadn’t already been the kind of person to be overly-prepared even before his son was born. He pulled it out of his desk drawer, sifting through its neglected contents for a moment before pulling out a vial of a clean, clear potion that would stop the deep cuts across Camden’s palm from growing infected, and set it down on his desk, along with a clean bandage.

“You should still smoke with your other hand, ‘til it heals,” he said, brushing the cigarette butt off of the paper, off of his desk, into the small trashcan that sat by the side of it. “Tobacco’s bound to sting like hell, if it gets in here.”

#( &. camden savage )#self harm //

camdensavage‌:

He looked up sharply, staring at Becker for a long second, before taking the cigarette out of his mouth and crossing his arms, hiding his hand like a child caught with something he shouldn’t have.

“It’s not going to get infected. I cleaned it this morning, and I’ll clean it again tonight once we’re home. It barely even hurts,” he shrugged, although that was a lie. It was stinging every time he so much as moved his hand slightly, and no matter how much of a comfort it was, he silently wished he’d been given a different saint this time around, one with a simpler martyrdom.

Still, it wasn’t going to get infected. None of the others had, and this would be no different… Although, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t quite as confident in his non-magical healing abilities, especially given the fact that his body certainly wasn’t used to healing itself without a little help. In a way, it was a small miracle that none of the others had gotten infected. And this was his hand, more in contact with dirt and grime, moving too much to heal easily.

“If it did get infected, and I did lose it, so be it. God’s will. If He feels that losing a hand’s more appropriate penance than allowin’ the scars, then I’ll accept it. I can smoke with my right hand,” he said defiantly, although he didn’t sound quite as certain.

He was almost tempted to throw out a thou shalt not lie, but he knew Camden would be thinking it without the words needing to sit between them -- it was crystal clear from the way he was holding his hand that it hurt, had been since he’d done it, same as the others had only more obvious for its visibility.

It was one of those unfathomable things about Camden that he’d never understood. Not that he needed to understand, not that he ever had, in order to love his brother unreservedly, unconditionally. They’d always had their differences, and always managed to see eye to eye regardless of what those were, because they agreed on all the things that mattered. But he wasn’t going to watch Camden lose a hand to stupidity, no matter what God wanted, even if it meant arguing.

“Come on, Cam, let me see it,” he said, almost more exasperated sigh than actual words, but there was something behind it other than exasperation, something so quiet you had to be listening for it. Worry, maybe, or something like it, the same sound that always came through when Benjamin got hurt playing with the other neighborhood kids, and wouldn’t let him see the bruises.

#( &. camden savage )

camdensavage‌:

He would’ve felt bad that his throw had temporarily ruined what looked like nearly finished paperwork, but he really didn’t care too much at the moment. It was the end of the day, after all, he didn’t need to be worrying about anymore paperwork, unless, that is, it involved the case he had just thrown at him. Not that he was particularly interested in actually going over the case. It was more that he was put off by being given the case, and someone needed to know. That someone was always going to be Becker.

Camden waited patiently as he glanced over the file, letting the cigarette rest between his lips, burn down slowly. It wasn’t a surprise that that was what he had to say after everything. “It’s an apt name. Did you read his note? Might as well be doin’ the devil’s work, from that tone. Presumptuous,” he said, shaking his head like he’d never quite heard of such a thing. He looked down briefly, adjusting the bandage on his hand, as he let the ash fall from the tip of his cigarette.

“Vampires. Like he’s doin’ me a favor, because they happen to be in Bowling Green. Like waltzin’ in there will do a damn thing when Bowling Green is full of enough heathens even without vampires.”

The problem was that Camden was right. From the looks of the case, it was going to be nothing but a headache: even if most of the southern vampire covens were codified to pretty much keep to themselves, Bowling Green wasn’t the kind of place you wanted a turf war break out between the handful of disparate populations that somehow managed to co-exist there. And vampires, in general, were notoriously not the easiest kind of part-human beings to deal with reasonably, their twisted morality rendering them selfish above all else.

Not that that was too different from any other case he was taking, these days.

Still, it was a case and it was their job. Camden had chosen this life when he applied for his auror training, and no amount of whining -- because that was what he was doing, that was what this was, the same way he used to talk his way out of doing his chores when they were kids -- was going to convince Snow to back down.

“You know you have to re-bandage that thing, occasionally,” he said, pointing at Camden’s hand as he fidgeted with the fraying piece of cloth currently covering it. This had always been the best way to make Camden forget about something unpleasant: distract him, get him worked up about something else until the annoyance at whatever the initial upset had been had faded, and then do what needed to be done. “The wix that made my leg says hands are much harder to replace, if it gets infected.”

#( &. camden savage )#hi hello I'm dead

camdensavage

wednesday, just before the end of the day, eastern squad offices ( @beckersavage )

Too long spent staring at the file without his reading glasses, trying to think of any way he might be able to get out of dealing with something so ungodly. Now a deep, thrumming headache sat just behind his eyes, begging for rest, knowing there was nothing much to be done but suck it up and deal with it. It was a lot like being a child again, in a way, only he had always been very good at getting out of things he didn’t want to do, thanks to the name Silas and the power of God. Or maybe more accurately, he had been very good at passing those things off to his brother.

With the majority of the other aurors starting to leave, heading towards whatever indulgences happened after such a mundane workday, Camden finally rose as well, case file in hand, half burnt down cigarette between his lips, and marched over to Becker’s desk, where he it looked like he was wrapping something up for the day. Without hesitation, he threw the file at Becker’s chest, and came to a stop looking down at him, a rare thing, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“The devil gifted me with a case, and you’re coming with me.”

beckersavage

He was just about finished the paperwork from his latest case -- a run of the mill kind of thing, crime of passion with an easy enough solution that had still been occupying too much of his time for the last few days -- when the case file hit him in the chest and, on the rebound, knocked directly into his fountain pen, sending the ink sprawling across the nearly filled-out paper beneath. It was a moment, a blinking of eyes and a heavy but silent sigh, before he looked at it.

He picked his own reading glasses up, from where they were sitting just to the side of the paperwork he’d been finishing, and put them on, glancing down at the file where it had come to rest, square on top of the rest of his work. Bowling Green.... vampires... a handwritten note from Snow... this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone wanted to see land on their desk ten minutes before the end of the day. Which was probably exactly why his brother had brought it to him in the first place.

“Is that what we’re calling the Chief, now? I’m sure he’d love to hear that one,” he replied, finally looking up at Camden, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his desk chair.

#( &. camden savage )

Lucy Liu

SARA TAN.

Sara was a classmate of Becker’s at the New Orleans Academy, and the two worked closely together on the Eastern Squad until about two years ago when she was transferred to the Pacific Squad along with her promotion to Lieutenant. Rivals would be a strong word for what they were, but they did push each other to work harder in a slightly competitive manner.

#daniellobo #( &. spare me your judgement and spare me your dreams | asks )

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