a cross to bear

Human / Voodoo Slave 18

[euphomeral-deactivated20190407]

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[emilie-cross]

For Love of Good

[alasterwhyte-blog]

Alaster had never really had enemies. The logic behind that was the fact that he knew that no one would ever really defeat him. He knew he had the ability to haunt, to strike fear into souls without even so much as saying a word. The only struggle he really faced was his personal battle against time and its repercussions. Over the years he relied on his cane a little more than he would have wanted to admit and getting up was an effort more than anything. His brain hadn’t slowed however, he was still on the grand path to ultimate enlightenment. The Voodoo King was so close to really perfecting his idea for armies of undead and once that was finished he knew that immortality would follow; it had to found somehow. 

On any usual night Alaster slept with a perfect stillness and didn’t move until he woke up the next morning. However the night was an unusual one and something stirred him;once moved his eyes couldn’t help but open.

Without glasses life was a blur, but even though the haze he knew exactly who was standing over him. A face dotted in freckles and red hair never as fiery as all the other red heads he’d ever known. He liked to put that down to his own ability to dampened her poor, defeatist spirits. Emilie Cross had been the meekest and most innocent little soul he’d come across in his time as Voodoo King. She was good, truly good and there wasn’t a moment where he chose to rethink that. Her heart was pure and he supposed that he was one of the better judges of her character because of his own alliance within the eternal divide between good and evil. The sight of Emilie Cross in his bedroom in the dead of night did not make him fearful, in truth his first reaction was just quiet yawn. Had she come back to exact her revenge? Maybe. Had she come prepared? Definitely. Would she win? Of course not.

Alaster moved an apparently restrained hand to grab his glasses, looking up through squinted eyes to his own wrist tied to his bed frame. What was her plan? Was she here to kill him? If Alaster saw any sign of that he knew his fight or flight instinct would most certainly allow him to snap whatever rope she felt was strong enough to hold him.

“—What an odd way of marking your return, fi.” By the he’d come to his full senses and realized the whole situation his other hand had been tied too. He still wasn’t too concerned about the scene, his years of violence and torture had made him far too desensitized to danger. Even with his hands tied above his head, in the midst of a girl with every reason in the world to kill him he didn’t have that certain fear that he’d felt and saw in all of his victims eyes. Fear was something that plagued humans and those that lived on a mortal realm within any sort of power or point to them. Alaster Whyte did not fear; he was fear. He was the man who’s face was chiseled into the furthest reaches of your brain labelled nightmare. He was the fear that the night brought, an inconceivable uneasiness that left you clinging to any light you could find. 

“Tell me— Seeing as you’ve broken into my home and restrained me, what is your plan, Emilie? I’m very curious to know, because the only outcome I can truly see here is you never seeing the sun rise again.”

[emilie-cross]

     She was in control. He was tied up, he couldn’t touch her.

     She was in control. There was nothing he could do to stop her at this point, even if he wanted to. 

     She was in control. 

               So then why was she so scared? 

     Perhaps it was because she knew better than to think that rope would be enough to hold him back. Or perhaps it was because, after all this time, he still had a hold on her mind. She’d spent the last decade trying to convince herself that he was nothing to be afraid of, but even now she knew that just wasn’t true. He was, and would probably always be, her boogeyman: the creature lurking in the shadows, the beast about to strike, the thing that went bump in the night. Even now, he was at his most vulnerable point, asleep in bed, but she was still terrified of him. 

     So, naturally, the moment he stirred, she jumped back. Of course she’d expected that he would wake up at one point or another, but now that the reality of it had set in, she could feel herself starting to shake. She backed away from the bed to hide her fear from him. It was in vain, though, she knew he could already tell. When a serpent was hungry, it sniffed out a mouse to feed on. Alaster was much the same in that regard. He thrived on the fear that others so readily supplied for him, but she was determined to starve him, for once and for all. 

     Slowly, and without a word, she circled to the foot of the bed and grabbed his ankles to tie them down as well. Splayed out on the bed, and only half-awake, he was still so vulnerable, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to believe that for even a minute. He retained a kind of serenity to him, even while watching her tie him up, that was arguably more imposing than if he’d begun fighting back. Why was he so calm? Had he known that this was coming? Or was he simply unafraid of her still? She couldn’t blame him for that assumption; she’d always been meek and unassuming. But he had no idea of the fire that he’d kindled in her heart, that burned strong with both the hatred that she held for him and all the evils that he stood for, and with the faith for her love of good. She was as soft as she’d ever been under his ruling, but underneath, there laid a core as impenetrable as diamond. 

     “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she said in a soft, steady voice; it was probably the first time she hadn’t stuttered in front of him. “I’m going some place far, far away, where you’ll never be able to find me.” Moving closer, she picked up her backpack and took a deep breath before climbing onto the bed. “But I had to see you before I left,” she straddled his waist, making sure to pin him down beneath her as much as she could, before she reached out and ripped the shirt of his pajamas open to expose his chest, “I had to see you. You knew that, didn’t you?” 

[emilie-cross]

Addendum

[matron-marilyn-blog]

   The thin newsprint of The Siren Times had been scattered on the kitchen table, and Marilyn was lackadaisically looking over each column without much thought. There was no calamity, no murder or death—just Barton humming along like it always did. She didn’t hear Emilie’s voice until the girl had sat across from her at the table, which prompted Marilyn to set aside the newspaper she had been holding a few inches away from her nose. 

   Running her fingers through her hair, she gave Emilie a curt smile “Did Helena behave?” 

   She didn’t need to ask, she knew the answer: Helena was the most well-behaved child one could ever ask for. 

   “What’s been on your mind, dear?” she continued, assembling the fragments of newspapers into a pile “Is there something you need?”

[emilie-cross]

     “’Course she did, she’s sweeter than honey”. she said with a soft smile. 

     At four years old, Helena was just barely a toddler, but in the few years that she’d been alive, Emilie and her had become like sisters to each other. Similar in temperaments and nature, the two of them got along as well as another siblings bound by blood. Sometimes--and it hurt to think this-- they got along as well as she and Jeremiah had when they were children. And having that relationship again with someone, after the former had been unceremoniously tarnished, was such a precious thing to her, that it made the rest of what Emilie was trying to say that much more difficult. 

     “N-no, it’s not that...” she hesitated, trying to think of a good way to broach the subject, “it’s just...w-well...you remember my friend, Rowan...right? The one I  visited last summer? U-uh...well, we were talkin’ earlier on the phone and we’d been discussin’...uh...y’know he’s been lookin’ inta movin’ to an apartment that’s closer to work, but everythin’s so expensive out there he’d need a roommate...a-and...well...I-I was thinkin’...m-maybe I could...move in with him...” she looked up at her would-be mother with cautious curiosity, trying to gauge her reaction, “y-y’know...in Arizona.”

[emilie-cross]

Addendum

“Marilyn?” 

It took a lot of thought to not call her ‘mom’, even if that was what she was to Emilie now. 

“Are you down here?” 

Tiptoeing down the stairs so as not to wake the sleeping Helena that she’d just laid down for a nap, she looked around the living room in search of her guardian. After all these years, the Main Street Business Apartments had become more of a home to her than anywhere else. Even more-so than her grandmother’s old house, which now only held distant memories and a brother that she couldn’t bear to visit. It seemed like the only family she really had anymore was Marilyn and Helena, and Gabriel when he came by, which made what she needed to tell her all the more difficult. 

“Marilyn?” she finally found her in the kitchen, and she shuffled over to sit down at the table, “...I...I need to tell you something...” 

[emilie-cross]

For Love of Good

     It’d taken almost 10 years for Emilie to be able to walk by the Shallow Water Apartments without having a panic attack. Even now, seeing the building still managed to get her heart racing, and she usually had to focus on some distant spot on the horizon to distract herself when she passed by it. Now, however, she didn’t have the luxury of being able to pick up her pace, or choose some alternative route; this time, it was exactly where she needed to be. 

     She’d dreamt of this day for years. Hundreds of thousands of different scenarios passed through her mind, both assuring and discouraging her about what was yet to come. As she stared up at the building, she was reminded of each and every single one, and for a brief moment she thought it might be best to simply go back home and forget the whole thing. But she’d worked too hard and for too long, and suffered too much to simply chicken out now. She wasn’t the same, frightened little girl that she’d been ten years ago when she ran away. She was stronger now, both in knowledge and character, and she wouldn’t let the nightmares of her past pollute the possibilities of her future. They had already taken up too much of her time. 

     In her backpack she had everything she needed to fix what had to be fixed, and she clung to it tightly as she entered the building. There was an eerie familiarity to the halls of the apartment, and as she neared His room, she couldn’t help feel nauseated. Every memory was coming back with a sickening speed. However, now that she knew that there was no turning back, the memories served to fuel the fire that had begun burning in her heart. It ended now. 

     She knew he’d be asleep by now. One would think that a Voodoo King would be up into the late hours of the morning practicing his magic, but Alaster had always been strict about his sleeping schedule. All the better for her. Using a key that Marilyn had given her (certified to be able to open any door, no matter what), she opened the door to Alaster’s apartment slowly, so that she was sure to prevent even the smallest of noises. Though the room was pitch black, she could tell that some things had been rearranged, though overall it looked relatively the same. She navigated around the furniture, making sure to watch her step and avoid bumping into anything, and stopped once she’d gotten to his room. 

     Her heart was pounding so loudly she thought it might burst out of her chest. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, then slowly, very slowly, opened the door to his room. His sleeping figure was silhouetted in the moonlight, and though he as at his most vulnerable, he still seemed just as deadly to her as he had the night that she ran away. She couldn’t make out his features very well, but it was clear by the new peppering of silver in his hair that he’d been aging as well. Approaching him slowly, she watched him for a short while to make sure that he was truly asleep, then she shrugged her backpack off of her shoulder and pulled out a length of rope. She stood over him, trying to figure out how best to go about this. If she moved him, there was a strong possibility that he’d wake up, and she didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he did before she restrained him. Taking one last, deep, breath, she carefully grabbed one of his wrists with a feather light touch, gauging every second to see if he was stirring. Eventually she managed to pull it up to the headboard, where she made quick work of tying a sturdy knot around it and his wrist. As soon as she was done with the first, she hurried over to the other side of the bed and began tying up his other hand; she wanted to finish before he woke up and had the energy to fight back. 

[emilie-cross]

Emilie completed her senior year at Truman Capote High with straight A’s and some help from a dangerous mixture of caffeine and OTC amphetamines. 

After trying to get in touch with Jeremiah through Thomas Youngblood, Emilie was found out by Alaster and was “punished” for it with borderline torture, which involved being cut, burnt, and beaten. 

Deciding that she could no longer live like that, she fled the apartment and escaped to Hoodoo Voodoo, where she was taken in by Marilyn White. 

Through the use of careful spell work, she was able to hide in plain sight from Alaster, and used this to enroll at BHU with a focus on pediatrics. 

Though at first she was ecstatic to be reunited with Jeremiah, their relationship became irrevocably strained when she learned about the circumstances of her enslavement. She forgave him, and tried to help him in any way she could, but his addiction for gambling and cheap sex had spiraled out of control to the point where she finally had to accept that his love for himself was far stronger than the love he had for her. It hurt more than anything that Alaster had ever done to her, but she had to learn to move on. 

Marilyn began teaching Emilie real Voodoo- the kind that was meant only to help people. Though Alaster’s magic had left a bad taste in her mouth, she took to Marilyn’s magic with ease, and used her knowledge to help make medicines and herbal remedies. 

Over time, Emilie and Marilyn’s bond grew stronger and stronger, to the point where the relationship between them was like that of a mother and daughter’s. When Marilyn brought home the little girl that Gabriel had found, Emilie treated her as a little sister, and between the four of them, they form a very happy, very make-shift, family. 

As she grew older, her looks improved every year, and by the time she was 20, she’d developed a long line of suitors. She even dated a couple, but her relationships usually didn’t last long, as guys would usually try to pressure her into having sex, which she has no interest in. 

Even though Rowan left Barton Hollow, Emilie’s always kept in touch, and they talk frequently. He knows about everything that’s happened to her, and she knows everything about what he is, but she considers him to be almost like a brother to her. She’s visited him out in Arizona a couple of times, and they’ve even made plans for the two of them to move in together so that Emilie can get a job at the hospital down the street from Rowan’s Vetrinary clinic. 

Before she leaves, however, there’s one last matter she has to attend to...

[isprinsessee]

Damsel In Distress - Emilie & Kellan (PAST)

[isprinsessee]

     The King didn’t have to get to three. He never got to make it to three. Most people knew— whether or not the knowledge of who he was, was known —that the good old “one, two, three" was something not to be ignored. So Kellan was right to keep his hand extended for the red head’s and when she finally gathered her balance there was hint of a prideful smile behind his powerful facade.

                       ”We should get somewhere safe, darling. Which way is home?” 

     It was a simple question, asked through a hushed tone as he placed a hand against the small of her back to lead the way to a hopeful safety. If only this safety was a promise and not a hope. Gwen always had a way of making him question things he never thought once to think twice about.

                                                                                      “Are you okay?”

[emilie-cross]

      She could feel the blood from his hand clinging to her skin, but she didn't dare let go of him. After all, she was helpless now, little more than a spring lamb being lead blindly from the slaughter. Her shepherd, whoever he was, kept a steadying hand on her back and a swift, relentless pace. At least...she assumed it was fast. Everything was a blur at this point, and she couldn't bring herself to look around the town and see what was happening to everyone else, though her heart went out to them. 

     Instead, she focused on the face of the man who, at this point, was practically carrying her out of harm's way. He was beautiful, strikingly so, in a way that was somehow familiar, yet entirely unique. She wouldn't have been surprised if he were magical (hell, half the people in town were), as his presence had a strange impression on her. 

     " Th-that way" she responded meekly, pointing a shaking hand towards the general direction of the Shallow Water Apartments before immediately clutching the fabric of his shirt again. She wanted to insist that she was fine, as was customary for her, but the truth of the matter was that she was very far from okay. 

     "N-no. No. I-I'm not" she hiccuped as she began to cry, "I-I...I figured she wasn't a good person but- but...I-I don't understand! Why would she do that?!" 

[madelineainsworth]

Madeline felt a tinge of guilt as she moved past a patch of crumbling, unkempt graves, long forgotten by the ones who buried them. Faded names, chipped stones, cracked surfaces; life erasing them slowly but surely from history. It was saddening to think that one day her own grave would look like this. Autumn’s grave would look like this. Perhaps anonymity would be a good thing, after all who in this world truly knew her, knew the real Madeline Ainsworth? “So this is the end, how cruel” she muttered, not realising the being within close proximity to her.

[emilie-cross]

     Emilie had always been the one to visit her parents' graves often; Jeremiah only ever came on very special occasions, or when she had dragged him along. Since their separation, she would've liked to believe that he'd continued to visit the graves, but their dwindling appearance proved otherwise. She couldn't blame him though; the last thing either of them needed was a reminder that they were both completely alone in the world now. Still, though, the graves did need to be maintained, and she'd made an afternoon of pulling the weeds around their headstones and placing fresh bouquets in the small vases she kept in front of them. She'd just finished filling them with water when she heard a woman's voice behind her. Spinning around, she spotted an unfamiliar (yet somehow simultaneously familiar) woman a row back. 

"S-sorry...what did you say?" 

[emile-batista]

"If you’re sure you’re alright," Emile said, nodding. He cocked his head slightly to the side, appraising her silently. This woman was definitely tense and afraid, but it wasn’t specifically tense around Emile or afraid of Emile. It was something more than that, and that’s why he didn’t hesitate to nod when asked if they could walk together.

"Yes, that’s okay. I can tell you’re not okay with being out right now. Why are you, if I may ask? You’re nervous about it but out anyway?"

[emilie-cross]

     She sucked in part of her bottom lip and began to bite at the skin as she thought of a way to answer him. It was always a hassle to think of some excuse to tell people when they asked her about anything that could be considered 'too personal', not to mention a gamble. Would she reveal too much? Would she come off as too weird? Would people suspect terrible things about her? Emilie, like her brother, had always been too preoccupied with what other people thought, and she hated to be judged for something that was beyond her control. 

"I-I'm sure" noticing the light for the crosswalk had turned green (it had turned numerous times during their interaction, but this was the first time that she'd been aware of it), she looked both ways and took a step out into the street. "W-well...y'see..." she continued to bite her lip, " I had to go into the forest t'get somethin'...f-fer my uncle. B-but it took forever to find it, so I-I didn't end up leavin' 'til it was already dark out...but, uh, but then I couldn't really find my way back. B-by the time I got back it-it was already real late." After a few moments passed, she spoke up again: "W-why are you out?" 

[emile-batista]

Emile relaxed as soon as the mace was put away. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he rasped, nodding toward where the mace had just disappeared into her bag. “Didn’t mean to.” He scratched the back of his neck, uncomfortable with the current situation. “I do that sometimes and I never mean to, but it’s unavoidable, I suppose.

"And I agree," he continued, dropping his hand back to his side. "One can never be too careful." He offered an equally as awkward chuckle, "If I did get any dirt on you, I’m sorry again. I haven’t had the chance to clean up after work and all."

[emilie-cross]

     "N-no, really! Y-y'don't hafta worry about it...I-I just uh, overreacted. Really, it's-it's fine. Not yer fault at all" The reference to his status in Barton only managed to fly over her head, as Emilie was largely unaware of whom the man in front of her was. Keeping up with news in this town had always been a luxury that she could never afford, though often times she was grateful for that. To her, he was just a strange man with a strange raspy voice walking home and minding his own business. 

    And even though he was a strange man, she was almost relieved to have someone else around. Though she enjoyed her walks by herself, she was more than happy to have company when it meant not being alone in the middle of the  night. "A-actually....uh, if y'don't mind..." she spoke up again, " c-can we walk together for a little while? I-I...I get a little...er...anxious....walkin' by myself this late at night..." 

[emile-batista]

"You, er—you alright?" Emile asked, stepping back with caution at the sight of the mace. He knew he had a certain reputation, but mace? That was a little much in any circumstance. He swallowed audibly, pulling his eyes away from the mace and looking up at the girl’s face. He supposed that nowadays, even in Barton Hollow, a woman could never be careful enough. 

"I didn’t get any dirt on you, did I?" He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the audible sound of his voice’s under-use. "If I did, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Didn’t mean to bump into you."

[emilie-cross]

     She was grateful for the space he made between them, but seeing the fear in his eyes caused her arm to waver. Having no real intention of spraying the man, or causing him distress, she quickly lowered the can back into her bag. He seemed...odd...but that had never been a good reason to mace someone, especially in Barton. If she went around dousing everyone who gave her a weird vibe, half the town would be rolling on the floor in agony. 

     "Y-yes, I'm...I'm fine......s-sorry about that. Y-you...you can never be t-too careful...right?" she attempted to laugh it off, but the sound that came out was more an embarrassed whimper than anything. Taking a step back to match his, she turned her head to try and look at the back of her shirt. "I-I don't think think they came from you" she admitted, noticing several patches of dirt, "don't worry about it" 

[emile-batista]

Emile walked home from work, his head bowed in concentration. After such a long time having worked in the cemetery, by now he was used to having dirt under his nails. It was just a feeling he’d gotten used to. But today was somehow different, because he was acutely bothered by the feeling of dirt beneath his left ring finger. Sighing, he continued to try to free himself of the bothersome feeling.

In his intense effort to rid himself of this excess dirt, he neglected to notice someone standing before him with their back to him. Emile bumped smack into them, stumbling back with a slightly belated apology.

"I’m sorry," he said, voice soft and raspy. His voice apparently took him by surprise as well, because his eyes widened and eyebrows raised.

[emilie-cross]

     Even if walking around Barton at night still gave Emilie and reason to fear for her safety, she'd at least come to appreciate the mysterious serenity of the town. There weren't any cars around, save for the odd teenagers out joy-riding, and the usual hustle and bustle of the crowd had disappeared with the dying of the light. She would've been foolish to think that she was alone- especially when one considered the fact that they never quite knew what was around the corner, lurking in the alleyways- but there was enough room to breathe, which was something she had to be thankful for. She'd almost come to enjoy the nights where she had to go to the forest to fetch ingredients, and she cherished the time that she could spend outside of her apartment. 

     She pulled her jacket around her tighter as she stood at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Even if there weren't any cars she couldn't bring herself to break such a trivial law. As careful as she was, though, to listen out for anyone approaching, she was surprised to say the least when someone walked straight into her. Her hand shot down to the can of mace she had stashed in her bag and she spun around to hold it up as a warning. Expecting an attack, she was surprised again when she heard a soft apology come from the man. 

"O-oh. U-uh...mm...it's...it's alright..."

[isprinsessee]

    When the girl spoke, Kellan’s jaw clenched in frustration. There was no time for this, no time to hesitate or use the words ‘I can’t’. Still, the king found himself kneeling before the girl and looking her dead in the face. His tone was strong, unwilling to let her break it as he said, “then it is your funeral.” with promise wavering behind each syllable. Did she think the other faeries would be willing to listen to her when she cried because she couldn’t move to run away or fight back?

    He leaned in closer now, voice harsher than before, “Get up or I will leave you here.” Maybe a       clear threat would be the fire beneath her to get her up off of her ass.

    As he waited, he could feel the tension rising. He could smell the blood spilling more and more as time passed, flesh burning in the havoc and where was their precious queen throughout it all? She hid behind her power, behind her darkness and while more humans than faeries were up for slaughter, their kind were still dwindling against humans who held their own and other creatures who held a mighty power. That was the difference between him and Gwen: she was coward while he stood brave and ready in the face of war.

                Getting irritated and impatient, he stood to his feet in a scoff, “One, two, thr—”

[emilie-cross]

     He was right. Of course he was right. If she didn't get up now, there was no doubt in her mind that she would die. She had no way of defending herself; this man was the only reason she wasn't dead already. He was the ship sailing by to rescue the drowning man, she would be a fool to deny his help in the claim that G-d would save her. However, as much as she tried to convince herself this was the only way, the second she saw his blood-drenched hand, the choice became much less black and white. 

     One

     She'd never been so frustrated with herself. It seemed so easy, and yet, at the same time, equally impossible. Just do it. She could feel him growing impatient with her, and she didn't blame him. 

     Two

     For a second, she even considered letting him leave her. She would be doomed, but Alaster would never be able to bother her again .Or could he? And even then, that meant giving up completely, and she couldn't do that. Why were the simplest of tasks so often the hardest to consider? 

     Thr-

     She reached up and grabbed the man's hand. Hoisting herself up, she clung to him like the frightened child she was, and looked to him to lead her to safety. 

[emilie-cross]

[emilie-cross]

My Cat's Keeper

[mr-rowan-steele]

   “I’m just teasing, it’s all good,” Rowan reassured her with a concerned laugh. He remembered that Emilie was the type who didn’t take those kinds of silly pokes well—not that it was a bad thing. He sometimes got muddled and flustered when people made jabs at him, but even with his good intentions he felt a bit hypocritical. “It’s really all right, you can come over and hang out whenever—especially if you just want to chill, okay?” his grin had softened, trying to articulate his sincerity and seriousness in his words “Really—for anything—I wouldn’t mind it if you just wanted to hang.”

   With the way Emilie described her suffocating brother and uncle, Rowan felt awfully sorry for her. In the instances he’d met her and she described her uncle, it always seemed like he was just an unpleasant person in general to deal with. Rowan knew the types, it wasn’t like he knew obstinately mean people whether they meant to be or not. Rowan imagined him as an older gentleman—maybe one of those older right-wing conservative types who may be associated with the Tea Party. It was odd, Rowan had not seen many like that since coming over to settle in Louisiana, but Barton was an inherent oddity in more ways that Rowan could ever imagine.

   “Coffee—sure thing!” he smiled, though it was forced. Seeing Lucy grace Emilie with his affection and kindness offended Rowan a great deal, did Lucy have no shame? Turning around Rowan rolled his eyes and let out a short sigh as he went to go get a kettle started for Emilie, muttering under his breath how ungrateful Lucy was. He did feed the cat—provide a shelter for the cat when he wasn’t supposed to. Yet, at every turn the cat had no end of snarky comments for Rowan, and he didn’t appreciate it in the slightest.

   “So how’s school going for you this year?” Rowan asked from the kitchen. 

[emilie-cross]

     Emilie hid her shy smile in the mass of Lucy's fur, completely unaware of Rowan's envy. She wondered, for a brief second, if this was what normal felt like. It probably wasn't, but it was the closest she was going to get, and that was a treat in and of itself. Outside of the dorm room, the world was a cruel and messy place, but in here, things felt safe and sound. 

     "A-and...you're sure you uh, y'don't mind h-hangin' out with someone so young?" she asked, taking a seat at the table. It would figure that one of the only friends she could make was someone so much older than herself. Well, perhaps he was only a few years older than her, but he was already well into his college career, and she was only just about to start hers. Maybe. She still wasn't clear on that whole subject. 

     "Good! Really good!" she said, beaming for once. Her success in academics was one of the few things she took pride in, and really, one of the only things she had to be proud about. "I got all A's last semester, e-even in my honor's class, which, y'know, I was really worried about, considerin' I've hardly been gettin' any sleep lately. P-plus with cheerleadin' and everythin' on top of it it's just uh, it's been really tough tryin' t'keep up, but I managed t'keep up! 

     I uh, I actually really like goin' t'school....I just wish..." as her energy lowered once more, she stared down at the table and distracted herself with the grain of the wood as she tried to find the words to explain herself, "w-well...I guess I just wish that...th-that it didn't hafta end in a few months..."

[chlo-harper]

After a mostly uneventful day at school, Natalie texted her brother to let him know she would be home late. Walking would clear her head and maybe a bit of retail therapy would ease her stress. The girl decided to stop for some coffee at her usual place, walking around with no direction after exiting the cafe. She sipped on her drink, unaware of her proximity to another being. A soft bump was all it took to send her drink flying to the floor, making her gasp in horror as the drink splattered everywhere. “I am so sorry!” she exclaimed, looking up at the person standing there.

[emilie-cross]

     This was the fourth coffee Emilie'd purchased today. The first had been  too cold for Aly by the time she'd gotten it to him. The second had had too much creamer. The third too much sugar. The fourth one had been perfect- she'd seen to that- and now it was all over the floor of the cafe. It took a long while for Emilie to process what had happened, even as she stood there, staring down at the spilt coffee. When she finally did understand, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cry, but all that came out was a sigh. At least this time she hadn't been forced to go all the way home and then come all the way back.

     Managing a weak smile, she nodded her head solemnly and bent down to start cleaning it up, "I-it's alright. Sorry I, I didn't realize I was in the way...I-I'll be more careful next time" 

[isprinsessee]

   Destruction. Nothing but chaos and horror fell over Barton’s streets. The King stood in shock, but realistically— he should have seen it coming. He should have felt the storm brewing above and most of all he should have been one step ahead. But how was he supposed to do that when he had the “queen of darkness” to fight against? How would he ever be able to have a hold over the storm that rested just beneath Gwen’s surface? 

She stared at him, a smirk on her face as if she was proud to have killed many innocent people and damage the rest of the town in her wake. Kellan narrowed his eyes, ready to strike against her. The Unseelie couldn’t work without their precious queen. But he didn’t think quick enough before she was gone. Now Kellan was left to clean up what she left behind, while following through with his own retaliation.

He looked around at the people, dead and alive, faeries still swallowing those in their wake whole, ripping apart flesh piece by piece. His chest heaved with anger, eyes filling with emotion. Before he could control the urge, he came up behind an Unseelie who bracing for another attack, and ripped sharp claws through their throat just barely managing to save the life of whoever it was below them. He extended out a strong, bloodied hand. “Get up. Now.”

[emilie-cross]

     There'd been a time when Emilie was convinced that any horrors she would see in her lifetime would be at Alaster's hand. It was easy enough to believe. Even if he had been kind to her (a notion that seemed plausible at first, but had since been disproven time and time again), he still forced her to witness things that haunted her dreams. 

     But this...this was too much. 

     The town had been painted red in blood, and there was no way to escape the horrid sight. A few drops were often enough to churn her stomach, but the sheer amount of it that surrounded her now had her paralyzed. People scurried around her in a frenzy as more and more blood was shed, but she couldn't move a muscle. Even as she was knocked to the ground by one of the fae that had set its sights on her, she couldn't lift her arms to protect herself. All she could do was sit and stare up at the creature with wide eyes, and watch as something tore into its neck and knocked it to the ground. Then, and only then, could she finally react. With a disgusted shudder, she moved away from the fresh cadaver that was now staring up at her. 

     Get up. Now. 

     Sound advice, but she wasn't sure if it was coming from someone else or her own mind. She was almost entirely convinced that she had actually heard it, though, so she looked up, and lo and behold, her savior was there. Her eyes traveled slowly from his face (a beautiful face, though it was etched with anger and splattered with blood) down to the hand that was being offered to her, and she froze once more.  Try as she might to take the hand that would no doubt lead her to safety, she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

      "I-I...I c-can't!"