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@exspiritment
Life: a constellation of vital phenomena—organization, irritability, movement, growth, reproduction, adaptation. - Anthony Marra
VITALPHENOMENA. by lye/@exspiritment. rules&characters. promo credit.
indie multi-muse roleplay account studying grief, healing & recovery, ptsd, individuality, cycles of trauma & abuse, survivor’s guilt, and more.
spirit has been moved to @vitalphenomena — please continue any threads you would like and tag that blog!
spirit has been moved to @vitalphenomena — please continue any threads you would like and tag that blog!
spirit has been moved to @vitalphenomena — please continue any threads you would like and tag that blog!
spirit has been moved to @vitalphenomena — please continue any threads you would like and tag that blog!
spirit has been moved to @vitalphenomena — please continue any threads you would like and tag that blog!
So. Fucking. Crazy.
"That can't be right." He doesn't mean to say it, but the filter between his thoughts and mouth is malfunctioning. She has a heartbeat. She is breathing. She is alive. Spirit Vespertine is —
"Human. You're human."
"Where are your manners?"
He knows she's human; she knows, from his ghosts and from the static transmitted into her radio brain, that he's a vampire. (She doesn't listen closely enough to hear the ghosts he shares with Sebastian, with Ileana.) But why the fuck is he acting like she just did something wrong?
is it? she did go looking; frequenting places with spirit written all over the walls, dark places and lonely places because this is all she really knows about her. this is all they have allowed themselves to learn about each other.
"come on, now." penny shifts her weight. she puts her duffel bag down into the dirt. her shoulder is red and sore where the strap has been pushing down. "i know it's been a long time, but come on. i'm tired."
Spirit is one of those people who burns bridges faster than she builds them. In other words, it's hard for her to become a regular just about anywhere.
God, Penny looks like shit.
"What am I supposed to do about that? — I'm not being snarky. I'm being serious. What am I supposed to do?" It's not like she's got an apartment with a spare fucking room, with guest towels and fresh coffee in the morning.
"spirit!" she sing-songs. "oh my god. do you love me?"
"How is that what you got from what I'm saying right now?"
kaja keeps holding on to spirit's bony shoulders, keeps nodding her head at spirit's words. it feels good to be understood. to be forgiven. to be let in—but she knew she would be. spirit understands, she knows. spirit would always get it, better than anybody.
spirit can't say no forever. spirit opened the door.
"i know you get it, spir. you're so nice. there's no one as nice as you." that has to be enough. of the hugging and the sweet-talking. kaja bites her lip, tugs at a piece of dry skin between her teeth. "have you got anything?"
Have you got anything?
Spirit's fond little smile disappears. She still has that feeling of being a little kid trying to see what's on the kitchen counter. She feels even smaller now, somehow. She feels stupid and naive. She is stupid and naive.
She is an addict, and a dealer. Surrounded by users and takers and people who think they can play both roles when, actually, they're probably just takers.
"Of course I do."
But it's not going to be that easy. You don't get to give her this knot in her stomach and her let it be easy for you.
"But I think you can ask nicer than this."
he's gloating, a little bit, at her reaching for the pizza, like he has any actual self-worth tied into whether it's good or not. it's chain shit, there is no family recipe. it's shredded cheese in bulk and whatever toppings he could scrape from the bottom of the containers that he didn't refill before closing.
"i came all this way. with a free fucking meal! for you. my friend."
It's cheese that's been chemically modified to be goddamn delicious and enough toppings that she's convinced herself she's getting her vegetable intake for the week. It looks like shit, but — it's fine. It's good.
"We're friends?" she asks, mouth already full.
"i'm not stealing anyone's life! that's crazy! you're stealing mine."
"I'm making your life worth-fucking-while, you dick. And you should start treating me like it." She stands there, defiant and expectant.
there’s a minute nod. a voiceless way of acknowledging that, yes, he gets it. (and august welcomes the disclaimer.) rarely are adults so forthright. a needle-in-haystack kinda event, you know?
well, he ain’t gonna lie. spirit spoke her truth. and he can reciprocate. “ didn’t wanna get my face pounded into hamburger meat. ” he replies, matter-of-fact. “ so, i ran and here i am. ”
"Who's trying to fuck with you?" She doesn't say You're just a kid. She hardly even thinks it. Even if she knows it's wrong to be violent, especially towards people who can't really stand up for themselves, it's a lesson she learned much later in life. It's also a lesson that so few people adhere to that such violence might as well have become the norm.
While August continues to acclimate to Spirit's frazzled state, she attempts to come out of it a bit. She even goes to pour him — and herself — a glass of water. What a classy goddamn host, this one.
His eyes glitter with delight. He likes these games.
“I would kill for it, I think,” he says matter-of-factly, smiling. He is tempted for a moment to prove his point by extending his will into the body of another bar patron—to seize their lungs or their heart and make them shudder in pain and panic—but he resists. Spirit has only just come around, after all, and he doesn’t want to scare her off so soon. “I would kill for you to kiss me as hard as you can. That seems the sort of way that you would kiss best—you always were so violent.”
A chill goes down her spine. A little voice begins — yes, just begins — to tell her that this isn't the best idea. But there are so many voices in the head of Spirit Harris, and she can't listen to them all, now, can she?
She doesn't know for a fact what Zero is thinking, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. It doesn't even take someone who's known him as long as she has. That glint in his eye speaks for itself.
Spirit leans forward, and she kisses Zero hard. She kisses him so hard that she throws herself off balance; she has to throw her arms around him.
Even that isn't enough. She stumbles from the barstool, practically into his lap. Her teeth gnash against his, and she doesn't care who's watching, who could judge this — she just wants him to think she'll draw blood. If he wanted violent, he'll get it.
@bluedprints // cass said: of course i want the truth, but only if you want to tell me.
Cue a long, preparatory sigh. She holds her arms around herself, rocks a little bit from side to side.
"At the bar, that night? The night I met Kier? — He didn't come up to me. I may have, like — it was maybe the other way around. It was maybe me approaching him."
@bluedprints // caleb said: don't give me that self-pitying shit. not now.
"Come on, Cal." She pleads. She almost calls him baby. "I need your fucking — when have I ever asked for anything serious from you like this? I mean it, I fucking mean it, I need — I need — I need something. I need you to help."
@bluedprints // kaja said: i just got carried away. i didn't think.
"You know, you really shouldn't act like such a sloppy drunk slut on too many shitty drugs about this. Is that what you called me? Maybe not, but — something like that."
This time, Kaja might have gone too far. This time, Spirit might go even farther. How long can they keep up this fucked-up game of Jenga, constantly pulling support out from underneath each other's feet?
