use the hum of your wound.

Isabel Rojas Mendoza. 26. Witch. Bartender at the Butcher's Arms.

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iliyamajarisx:

      Iliya shrugged and sat on the floor stretching her legs out beneath the coffee table, and leaned back against the couch. “I haven’t really smelled anythin’ like ‘im before. But vampires smell like corpses.” She sipped her drink then reconsidered. 

       “Okay, not that bad, more like grave dirt? Mm…just gross stuff. How come you don’t wanna work for an immortal?”

“He might have been around for like, the invention of music, and I pestered him about his choice of playlists at the bar.”

“And that’s just this week.”

She wasn’t entirely sure why it felt so mortifying, but.. it did. Mortal shit had to be so inconsequential to someone who had lived forever. 

Isabel shot back the last of her drink, hoping she might find something to numb the growing embarrassment at the bottom of her glass.

“So. Vampires. I’ve seen the movies. How bad is the feud really?”

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iliyamajarisx:

      “Y’mean y’c– oh, right.”  She held onto the belief that everyone else could do as she did, sense as she sensed, a trait that had been worse when she was younger. It was better than before, but sometimes, Iliya slipped up. “It’s like,” she scrunched up her nose, “it’s not bad, he smells different, though. Vampires smell the worst, so they take the cake, but he’s just…funny. Iunno, I never smelled something like him before. Sure it’s nothin’.” 

      “So, Declan, huh?”

“Nothing’s nothin’ in a place like this,” Isabel said, words accompanied by a huff of amusement. It was true – she didn’t think she’d ever run into such a concentrated amount of supernatural beings, all of them contained in the same city.

“.. What do vampires smell like? Please don’t tell me I’m working for, like, an immortal. Is that why he smells different?”

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miriamashford:

     “Yeah, that’s him. Y’mind making me his drink?”

      More than familiar with Rafael’s preferences in drink, it was a step in the right direction. The young vampire’s mouth twitched upwards at the comment and she nodded, but elaborated little on her first goal. If pressed, she had a story or two to tell to keep curiosity at bay, but she preferred not to have to lie at all if given the choice.

     “I travel a lot so, well, anywhere, really. Thinking about an extending my stay.”

“Sure thing,” Isabel said, before she set about pouring.. well, a glass of rum, no ice. It didn’t seem all that pleasant, but hey. Maybe it was the habit of it, rather than the taste – she’d ordered a few of those herself, before she reached her current home; sullen drinks while she thought about the people she’d left behind. The girl before her – Miriam, wasn’t it? – didn’t seem sullen, though, and her friend was in town.

Don’t dwell on it.

“Travel a lot, huh. What’s a place you’ve never been to, but wanna see?”

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iliyamajarisx:

     “I mean, I don’t know if she’s actually possessed, I didn’t really ask.” Iliya felt a small twinge of guilt, but it quickly passed. If she was going to start feeling guilty, she wanted to be a whole lot more drunk.

      “Yea-hah, I told ya.” The werewolf smiled taking up her own drink. “I don’t know if ya’d want to use my last name for it, but you can call it whatever, ya’d like. Declan? No way he’d go for it.” Iliya guffawed. “Weirdo dude and he smells funny.”

“Hey. How much do you think I’d get, though?”

“He’s just quiet, ‘s all, he’s actually pretty– wait. Smells funny?”

“Smells funny how? ... This is a werewolf thing, isn’t it.” This had to be a werewolf thing. Declan kept himself clean, didn’t he? He’d never smelled bad, not by her nose’s standards, but.. she wasn’t a supernatural being with a keen sense of smell.

“Do you dislike his aftershave or something?”

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declanxfavreu:

     There was a moment’s pause between her words and his nod, a careful, all-business and affirmation nod and the man returned to his seat. “Sure, let me know if Carson doesn’t help out when he comes in for his shift.” He’d give the man an earful, the third strike of the month, but it wasn’t as if Declan could dismiss him. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

She gave a quiet huff of laughter at the mention of Carson. Being the new kid didn’t help much in terms of authority, but on occasion, Carson would listen. Sometimes. Didn’t much like it, or at least that was the vibe she got.

“I’ll see if I can’t wrangle him,” she said, “but I’ll let you know if he doesn’t listen.” With that, she left Declan’s office, papers in hand.

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declanxfavreu:

     “Yea, that’s…sure. That’s fine.”

      “Here.” He handed back the documents to her, all of the places he need to sign, signed. “And the schedule, let me know if it doesn’t work.” He got up from his seat and grabbed one of the sheets of paper on the printer before also passing it along to her.

He seemed almost standoffish – almost. But a ‘sure’ and a ‘fine’ were a sure and a fine, and so.. she’d make a playlist, and then they’d take it from there. Hopefully he’d like it.

Isa skimmed over the schedule he’d given her, lips pursed in quick consideration. “Looks good,” she said, giving him a smile; the back of her mind a cacophony of song recs.

“I’ll head downstairs, get started on prep.”

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iliyamajarisx:

     “I told you about my ex-roomie, right? Swear she’s possessed or somethin’. She, like, stabbed me once? And it didn’t matter, cause werewolf healing– whatever– right? But it was still unexpected. I don’t know…just haven’t been able to unpack yet. Feels like I’m gonna have to move again sometimes.” Like no matter where she went, it would never be for long, Iliya had always had a restless spirit, but being forced out of places was starting to look like a punch-card ordeal.

     She let out a bark of a laugh as the witch struggled to find the word for it and pulled out the caramel flavored vodka, along with the marshmallow flavored syrup. “I can make something that tastes like a coconut, caramel s’more, if y’want,” she offered it as she made the concoction for herself. “Yeah, I feel it– between the roommate and the population of weird, it’s hard not to.”

     “Here, try this.” Iliya handed her the cup. “It’s delicious.”

“Possession’s serious fuckin’ shit, even if the healing kicks in,” Isa said, glad that Iliya hadn’t been hurt more than that. She still wondered about what had happened – really happened – the night it all went down. “Unpacking might help that,” she commented, “I know it helped me. Wasn’t planning on staying for long, and then I just..” did.

It wasn’t something she’d planned on, but before she knew it, she’d gotten herself a job, and then an actual place to stay, and then.. she’d stayed. Iliya had stayed too, but it looked like she was liable to leave town at a moment’s notice, and it struck Isabel then that she’d feel lonely if it happened. That she’d come to rely on Iliya’s company more than she’d expected to. It had been a fool’s fucking errand to tell herself that she shouldn’t get attached to anyone – it was what she did best.

She told herself to stop thinking about it, and took the offered drink instead.

“Coconut caramel s’more in a cup,” Isabel crowed, taking what was strictly a swig rather than a sip; pink tongue darting out to lick her lips, her eyes widening in delighted surprise. “It is a s’more, holy shit.” It was sweet, the burn not as glaring as it should have been, going down her throat. 

“The Majaris Special.. No, wait. A Majaris Driver? What are you naming it? Sell it to Declan. I'll make puppy eyes at him until he relents, even if it takes me a decade.”

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miriamashford:

      “Yeah, home trip.” Miriam slid up onto the bar stool, drumming her hands to add to the beat playing. “What was his drink?” A question that would distinguish between a tall dude and her tall dude. When she’d first arrived in Verth, she knew that he would find her, the matter of meeting up with him, however, was a bit of an ordeal. They had never invested in cellphones, but had other means of finding each other. 

     “That’ll be the second big goal of my life: to find or possibly create an ent.” Right after Raf and her found a way back to the daylight.

     “I’ll let you know.”

“Dude drank rum like it was soda. Didn’t even grimace. No mixer, no ice, nothing. Right on that knife-edge between weird and impressive.” The words were awash with more of Isa’s quiet amusement, and she found herself wondering if the girl was on the lookout for someone – if it was trouble, or just passing interest.

“If your second goal’s meeting or creating an ent, I feel like the first one’s gotta be massive.”

“So, home trip – where’s home now, if it ain’t Verth?”

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iliyamajarisx:

     “Sounds like a lot of work.” Iliya was tired just thinking about it. Considering she’d accumulated quite a list of enemies it might be easier just to alert her to the things that weren’t her enemy. “Maybe I’ll tell ya about it someday.” Iliya spoke up as they made it to her complex. She typed in the code to get through the front gate then led Isabel up to her own apartment. “For now, let’s find the booze.”

     The werewolf opened the door to a room filled with boxes. A short walk down a hallway opened up to a big room, the kitchen to the right, a living room space in front with couches still covered in fabric to avoid dirt, the windows were shut, drapes drawn but they opened up to the city street below. Iliya turned off into the kitchen narrowing down to one box. She opened it with a claw and began pulling out the assortment of flavored vodkas– some would cringe, but she loved the sweetest, nastiest ones. One bottle she put off to the side, most of them were from parties she’d thrown, the left behind gifts of her guests, but this particular wine she bought herself. “Y’can have anything you want. Think I got mixers in the fridge.” 

     “Hey, you know what would be cool? …if we went in search of those people who went missing. Like…if we found them, we’d be heroes right? What’s the pay for heroes?”

“God, we gotta get your apartment in order, dude.” It was a nice place, Isa figured, but Iliya kept putting off actually moving in, boxes littering the place. Part of her understood the sentiment: she hadn’t wanted to make her own place a home either, but at this point, Iliya had been in town for longer than she had.

“You still got that fuckin’.. caramel vodka? I’m in the mood for something awful,” Isabel said, and her lips split for a grin, booze getting to her – finally. “It’s kinda nice. Sometimes. In like, the right.. light, or whatever.” Not light. Light didn’t affect flavour. What was she thinking of? The witch snapped her fingers, gaze gaining that faraway look. “Uh.. Shit. Fuck. ‘S not ‘light’. Ugh. Anyway.”

“I want that, ‘f you’ve got it still.” Her fingers traced the top of a box, Isabel idly looking out the window for a moment. It felt like she was leaving her body – not in a witch way, but in a.. weird one. A human one. The way it felt when she remembered why she’d come here in the first place, to Verth Hollow, just another girl on the run. It was as if a lifetime had passed since she’d hopped in that car and fried it with her fucking hand trying to get away.

“-- Huh? The pay for heroes?” This was easier. She loved Iliya for that – the smiles and the laughter and the normalcy, even in the face of what they were. A witch and a werewolf walk into a bar... “I don’t think it’s a whole lot. Glory, maybe? Or maybe ‘s that big break with the Verth police force that’ll like, make ‘em give you a badge; no way around it.” She felt grounded. Didn’t have to force the smile.

“We could try,” she said, a little less joking. “But this place is weird. You feel it too, right?”

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declanxfavreu:

      “Hm?” He was skimming the words on the documents she handed him but at her words, his gaze flicked to where she was, looking at his playlist. “Uh, yeah, you can…” Something odd was happening. Declan leaned back in his chair, head slightly cocked to the side in confusion. “Are you offering?” His tone was tinged with disbelief, the man wasn’t used to people actually trying to help more than necessary. 

Fuck, he was hard to read. Declan Favreu was a man of few words, she knew that, but for every inch she thought she’d gained, another two slipped from reach. 

“I.. Yeah? Is that okay?”

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miriamashford:

      “This place has changed since last time I was here.” Ice blue eyes examined everything, Miriam feeling like it was the first time she’d ever seen it. With all the changes to her senses, it was her first time in a way, but she’d been there before. Ten years hadn’t been enough to make Verth Hollow unfamiliar, but there were many new and re-made things that were enough to stop her in her tracks. 

      “Tell me, have you seen a tree walking around anywhere?”

“Out here visiting someone?” Isabel said, smiling at the stranger by the counter. She thought she’d seen the girl come in a couple days before, but it hadn’t seemed like she was there because she knew anyone at the bar – and she didn’t think she’d seen her with someone, either.

“A tree?” It made her laugh, a little good-natured huff of it slipping out of her mouth.

“I saw a really tall dude in here like, yesterday, but that’s the closest thing I’ve got. Unless you’re looking for a literal ent, in which case.. bring me along, I wanna meet one.”

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ashfvrd:

“ Surprise me? ” It came out rather like a questionthan a statement yet it was soon followed by a low, “ Glenfiddich. ” His eyes on the bartender for a moment before helet his head fall into his hands, eyes closed shut. He understood why he wasbeing put off the case, hell he would’ve done the same to one of his coworkersif he was the boss too. But it was not fair, it had been four years since theevent. Even before Beckett’s time here, a long time since he had a breakdown about it as well. He was doingfine, he deserved a second chance… or a third. It wasn’t as if any of the otherdetective hadn’t killed too. They had, at least one of them had. Though neveronce with his bare hands like the man had. Guess that’ll follow him the rest ofhis life – or career. Whatever ended first.

“Tell you what,” Isabel said, her hands moving with quick, practiced grace – she knew the bar like the back of her hand. “We’ll start with something we know you like–”

Her fingers closed around the bottle of Glenfiddich, her other hand going for a glass. “– ‘n then we’ll work our way from there. Might be I’ll practice my whiskey sour.” A moment later, and she set down a whiskey neat on the bar top in front of him, Isabel busying herself with cleaning another glass.

“Let me know ‘f you need anything.”

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pricerey:

“Oh fuck no.” Price snorted, shaking their head. “School really ain’t my thing.” They gave a shrug. They hadn’t even finished high school. “I’m a piercer actually, at Just Ink About It. New gig, but I like it so far.” They explained a little too much. “What about you? What’s your thing?”

“Oh shit, for real? I know Iliya! The receptionist? --Sorry, you probably know that already,” Isabel replied, her grin a little sheepish. She hadn’t stopped by the tattoo parlour in a while – sometimes, she’d bring Iliya coffee, if she was on her way to the bar. “Well, like I said, I’m a bartender, but.. that’s about it,” Isa said, giving Price a shrug.

“Haven’t really thought much about picking up anything else. School’s not really my thing, either.” It hadn’t been since she was back in high school, barely scraping by with her grades; staying up late using everything she learned in chemistry and math to perfect ingredient ratios in rituals and symmetrical alchemical circles.

“How d’you like it here so far?”

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mvtthcws:

Ryder wasnot one for coffees, he’d taken a few of course when the occasion required it.Just like this very moment, but if it wasn’t for it the man could’ve gone hisentire life without ever trying one. But after the night he had ( who had ever been bright enough to spend theentire night out in the woods ), Ryder need at least three coffees to makeit at least until noon.

The manwould’ve been simply in and out of the small shop in less than fifteen minutes,if hadn’t come across Isabel. She was someone he’d often seen around town, nota friend but defiantly not a stranger. “You’re actually way off. ” He greeted, a smile across his features try ashe might to hide how tired he was, yet the bags under his eyes gave him away. “ I’m usually not a coffee guy but desperatetimes call for desperate measures. ” A yawn fell from his lips quickly afterthat, “ What about you? If I had to take a guess, I’d say you’dtake a black coffee too, or am I theone way off now? ”

“For real? I thought y’all ran on coffee,” Isa said, surprise crossing her face in the form of a smile. “Guess there’s an exception to everything TV teaches you about detectives.” Not to mention the sunken look to his eyes, the way tired seemed to seep out of him – but maybe that was it. No coffee. 

“You’re not entirely off. Plain’s my backup if I’m not feelin’ adventurous, but I’ve been trying something new almost every time I’ve been here.” They were all pretty good, too – she hadn’t come across anything she didn’t like, not yet.

“I’ve also gotten in the habit of.. well, buying the weirdest ones for my boss? Not every time. But just to see how he reacts.”

“So far, it hasn’t yielded much. Think I gotta go weirder.”

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declanxfavreu:

     Isabel Mendoza came to him for a job and he needed the help, so he gave her one. That was, for the most part, all Declan really knew about his employee. He did the standard interview, trained her, watched her work for a few days and then realized he didn’t really have to. She was more than capable of running the bar, entertaining guests, and mixing drinks. He was glad for the help, so he never dug, never wanted to find a reason to not have her on the team. That didn’t necessarily mean she felt the same way. For a moment, he thought maybe she might have found out that this line of business, this kind of work– possibly his type of character– were not for her, and for that moment a little domino effect of panic set off down from his throat to his gut. 

      Then the moment passed, she was reaching for the papers in the bag she’d brought along and Declan’s relief was a brief, shallow breath exhaled through his nose. He caught the tattoo on her wrist, putting a pin in it in favor of the papers she handed to him. Lots of his employees in the past had tattoos, so it wasn’t an issue. As long as it wasn’t something overtly offensive, he wasn’t a stickler on it. “Hm?” He glanced to the laptop, Spotify up on the page of pre-made playlists, he was currently looking at the top Pop Hits of the year. “Yeah, picking one.” He looked over the papers, setting them on the desk beside the laptop while he reached for a pen. “I have to update it when new music comes out.”

Six steps and she was by his side, the papers on the desk. She took a look at the playlist, and then Isa pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “.. So, uh. How’d you feel about lettin’ someone else at this thing?” It wasn’t that Declan’s playlists were bad, per se, they just didn’t feel.. personal, not the way they ought to. Seeing how he went about it explained why.

“Maybe I’m overthinking it. But you could like, veto ‘em? Make sure they’re 'bar-appropriate'? ... It’s not that I’m criticizing your choices, it’s just– y’know, curated playlists can have.. an effect? A good one?”

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iliyamajarisx:

     “Oh, well, if it helps us locate my bike, you can use whatever you like. Witchy GPS it is!”

     “Do you have a spell for finding people who are a threat to you, by the way? Like…let’s say y’got a lot of enemies or something? Can you get a warning system set up?” Iliya tried her hardest to sound casual as she brought it up, but couldn’t tell how well she was doing. “I mean, like, hypothetically.”

“It’s.. difficult. You need part of them for it to work in a way that’s, y’know, efficient – hair, blood, that kinda thing. The magic requires upkeep, too.”

“Y’can keep generic lookouts, though. But that sorta.. if they’re human, it’ll tell you every time anyone human enters through. The bigger the area, the more chance of it flaking out on you, not to mention the effort you’re putting into maintaining it.” There was a lot to it – and Isa would know. She had wards all over her place; even had a few on the outskirts of town, hidden from sight. She’d had what she needed for the ritual to be.. specific.

“I’ll help you set ‘em up, ‘cause I gotta be honest, it doesn’t exactly sound hypothetical. But you gotta be willing to let me know what you’re dealing with, if it’s, uh. Specific enemies.”

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@mvtthcws

The coffee shop had an excellent brew, sure, but what kept bringing Isabel back was the damn name – Perkatory. It was just so.. perfect. That day, she was there on a quick coffee run before she had to go in for her shift: she always bought two, one for herself and one for Declan, and she’d made it a game of sorts; getting him a different order each time, seeing what reaction it garnered.

She was looking up at the blackboard menu hanging on the wall, trying to decide on what to get, when a familiar face showed itself out of the corner of her eye. Ryder Matthews – a.. friend, of sorts. She didn’t know him all that well, but he seemed nice, and she made it a point to talk to him, or at least say hi, whenever she saw him.

“Hey, you,” she said, carefully bumping her shoulder against his.

“Let me guess – you a 'plain black coffee, no sugar’ kinda guy? Or am I way off-base?”