Fair enough. Store-bought always lacks that fresh flavor. No, not really interested in selling so it's free. I guess you can give a "donation" if you want.
I agree! I'm sure the factories work hard to, but nothing goes above home made. Alright, I'll figure something out to give you in return that isn't money.
🕒 When: Late June
📍 Where: UMWC
👥 With Whom: Wynne Hughes @formersacrifice and Henri O’Dea @hollow--sun
🔹 Summary: A hallway. A broom closet. A noise that doesn’t quite belong.
Henri is looking for something undead. Wynne is worried for their friend who has been acting strange.
TRIGGER WARNING : mentions of a familial death, blood loss
The classroom emptied in a slow shuffle, students dragging their bags behind them like ballast. Henri didn’t watch them leave. He had already started wiping the whiteboard clean methodically. Basic concepts today. Stratigraphy. Law of superposition. Hardly enough to warrant the dull, creeping thrum he’d felt all through the lesson.
Something had shifted.
He waited until the last student passed the door, then stepped out into the corridor, locking up behind him.
A cold pull at the base of his spine. Not dread. Something familiar. This was marrow-deep. This was death.
He followed the feeling through double doors, down the stairs and through the corridor. It wasn’t visible, not yet, but he could feel it. A presence. Decayed, quiet, moving. He wasn’t hunting, not officially. But his body slipped into it easily : the sharper awareness, the way his gaze started scanning corners, ceiling edges, stairwells. His fingers brushed the edge of his ring.
He stopped short at the end of the corridor.
Someone was already there.
Small frame, a neck scarf around their neck he recognized from his classroom. They were facing the same direction he was.
Whatever they were doing here, they’d felt it too.
—
One of their friends was acting strange. Of course, ‘strange’ was a very bendable and relative term in a town like Wicked’s Rest and for someone with a past like Wynne’s, but even to them a shift in behavior could safely be called strange. And Ada’s mood had shifted, considerably so, in a way that could be noted if they had only known her for the semester. She’d become twitchy and snippy, avoidant with her gaze as well as attention. She’d gotten a faraway look in her eyes.
She’d flown out of the classroom, disappeared through the door and they had followed, watching her disappear into a broom closet. This wasn’t entirely strange — that very broom closet had a few rumours about it, mostly pertaining to how it was an excellent make out spot (and also that it was possibly haunted). Ada had been seeing someone new, which could be the reason for her acting strange.
Wynne wasn’t fond of directing the blame to someone they didn’t know, and yet they suspected this new girlfriend.
They walked towards the closet door, fingers reaching for the doorknob. Warily they scanned the hallway, freezing in place when their eyes fell on their teacher. Wynne dropped their hand next to their side, turning on the ball of their foot. “Oh, hi Mr O’Dea,” they said, trying to sound casual while keeping their voice down. “I was – haha …” Broom closets weren’t for students, probably. They didn’t want to be caught breaking rules, especially not by an elder– no, teacher. “Is this the bathroom?”
__
Henri blinked once.
That was the excuse ? He tilted his head slightly, just enough to show that he had heard them but said nothing. His gaze shifted, tracing the edge of the broom closet door behind them. Closed. For now. The kind of door someone could disappear behind quickly, if they were being watched. Or followed. Or if someone wanted to hide.
He looked at Wynne again.
They were trying to be casual but there were too many tells. The nervous laugh, the stilted cadence, the drop of their hand like it had been caught doing something it shouldn’t. Their eyes darted, not to the door again, but to him. Measuring. Like they were trying to figure out what he already knew.
He let the silence stretch a bit too long. Waiting for them to speak again.
"No," he said, tone even. "It isn’t." His eyes flicked once more to the closet, then back to them.
"You’re not supposed to be down here." It wasn’t an accusation. Not quite. But it wasn’t neutral, either.
—
Wynne didn’t have enough pop culture knowledge to know that their question had been a stereotypical attempt at looking inconspicuous. Still, even they knew it wasn’t a particularly good excuse. Any student knew where the bathrooms were at this point in the school year. And this definitely wasn’t it.
Henri was aware of it too and so they were at an impasse. Wynne swallowed, looking at the door, then back at him. He was their TA – not their elder, as he had requested that they not call him that – but still an authority worthy of their obedience and respect.
But Ada was in there, and their stomach was churning. For one, they didn’t want for her to be found out to be breaking the rules either. Friendship now weighed heavier than authority, after all — that was something that had changed in their personal moral code a while ago. There was also the worry they felt for her, the dread making their gut churn more.
They looked at the door, “It’s … just a hallway,” they said meekly. “I didn’t know this was off-limits.”
They tried to find something else to say, something to make Henri go away so they could make sure Ada was okay. Wynne opened their mouth when a sound came from behind the door. A moan, but whether it was of pleasure or pain, they couldn’t tell.
___
He responded with a quiet, measured voice : “It’s not off-limits.” And yet, from the way Henri was staring at them, you could have told yourself that now would have been a perfectly acceptable time to remember that you had places to be, and things to attend to.
Of course, any hunter would tell you this much: limits were at the very least a suggestion, at most up to interpretation. They, however, did not seem to be a hunter (he could tell from the way they had attempted to justify being here).
Henri kept looking at them, unflinching, even as the sound came from the closet. There were only two explanations to that sound, and considering what he already knew, Henri had picked his side.
“I suppose,” he said after a moment, “there are only two reasons for a sound like that coming from a broom closet.”
His eyes drifted toward the door with academic curiosity, like it was just another artifact waiting to be cataloged.
“Either someone’s enjoying themselves,” he lowered his voice as he approached, not for Wynne, but to make sure they kept the element of surprise, “or they’re very much not.”
His gaze returned to Wynne. “And since I’m standing here with a student who looks like they’d rather chew glass than interrupt someone mid-tryst, I’d wager it’s the latter.”
He tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat, slow and deliberate.
“Is that your friend in there?”
—
The sound sent a shiver down their spine. Wynne wanted to be an optimist and tried to approach life with a hopeful and open heart, but at the end of the day they saw danger in every corner. Ada’s change in mood had to have come from a dark, nefarious source, because that’s how things were in this town. The sound that had left her mouth could not be one of simple pleasure, because it was never that easy.
Henri was acting strange. He was approaching them and the broom closet, even though he’d said it wasn’t exactly off limits. He was speaking in a way that suggested he knew what might be going on behind the door.
Wynne didn’t. They just had a foreboding feeling that it was something bad. The sound of Ada’s voice echoed through their mind. They had no interest in walking in on her having any kind of intercourse or precursor to that, but it was not something they were worried about. They had learned to trust their gut instinct.
They shook their head first in response, then nodded. “My friend, yes. Something unenjoyable, also yes.”
They were quiet for a moment, ears sharp as they tried to pick up any more sounds. Ada’s voice was muffled but present, and they felt urgency rise in their throat. “Why are you here, Mr O’Dea?” They diverted their attention to him for a moment. “I am – maybe it doesn’t matter. I need to check on her.”
___
He watched Wynne in that tight, deliberate stillness of his—not suspicion, exactly. He didn’t suspect them. But the kind of stillness that came from trying to observe all variables before making a move. Like measuring a fault line with your feet.
Their words flicked past him with an eerie resonance.
“Something unenjoyable, also yes.”
His hand reached toward his own sternum, fingertips grazing the fabric of his shirt as if that would help smooth the tension from his chest. It didn’t.
He took a slow step closer to the closet door, just enough to tilt his head toward it, to listen. Not just with ears, but with all of his instincts, all of what had been taught to him.
Then Wynne asked their question and he blinked once. Enough time to come up with an excuse of his own. "I heard something too," Henri said, quietly. "And I have a terrible habit of following my instincts."
No emotion in his face, but something tightened in his jaw—something focused.
"You’re not wrong to check on her. But if you’re going in there…" He glanced at the knob. “I’m going in first,” with a stake and a very precise plan in his head.
—
Their hand was on the knob before he could reach it. Wynne had once been made protector and that instinct had been drilled into them so deeply that they would not let go of it now. They had failed so many times, but they were still that. A person who would do what they could for their community.
Well, everything except die.
“I suppose we have that habit in common,” they said plainly, wondering how Henri's instincts had come to be. Had he come across something dangerous in town? Was he gravely curious just like them? He was an archeologist: there had to be something within him that wanted to know things.
They were hesitant for a little while longer, but when Ada's pained voice rang through the wood once more they rid themself of the feeling. Wynne twisted the door knob and pulled it open, revealing a scene that made their heart jump to their throat.
Ada's eyes were rolling back, as was her head, and her new girlfriend was looking up furiously from where she had burrowed her fangs into her neck. Blood was everywhere on her face, dripping from her lips and covering her nose, mouth and cheeks. Her hair and that of Ada were sticking to it. A low growl left her throat and Wynne distantly noted that their feet stumbled back, fingers reaching for their pocket and the knife that sat there.
They wanted to be brave. To be a protector. But in stead they were in the barn basement again. In stead they felt their own neck scar itch. They opened their mouth and heard their voice echo distantly: “Let her go.”
___
Henri moved the moment their hand grabbed the knob. Not out of impulse. Not anymore. It had taken a while, but in moments like these, his brain moved aside to let his body take over. He was beside them in two strides, and when the door swung wide and the stench of blood hit him, Henri knew precisely what to do.
The room was small. A broom closet ; narrow, dark, claustrophobic. He barely had room to step inside.
His gaze locked onto the vampire’s face. Bloodied, furious. Henri didn’t flinch or even look at his student. Ada. Still, he heard Wynne’s voice break behind him, soft and thin : “Let her go.”
And in that moment, Henri stepped fully into the closet. His hand was already raised, open-palmed and slow, like you’d approach a wounded animal, not to soothe it, but to prepare for the moment it lunged.
"You don’t want to keep going," Henri said, tone low and measured. Calm. "Trust me." If she lunged, she’d hit him first. That was fine. That was good.
Because Wynne wouldn’t have to see what came next.
—
They didn’t know the name of the vampire who had been scarfing down Ada’s blood, but they recognized her. She was a student like them, though she barely looked like she belonged in a classroom. She looked more like a creature that belonged in the woods, a cemetery or a barn basement.
Wynne let Henri move into the broom closet passively, wondering why he was acting the hero. Why he was not shocked to see this scene and in stead approached it like someone who knew what they were doing.
They pulled out their own knife, the metal sliding from the leather sheathe easily and the handle comfortable in their hand. It was no stake, but those were harder to bring into class. Besides, they hadn’t expected this. Something had troubled them about Ada, but that it would be a vampire was a nasty turn of events.
They tried to look past Henri, gaze locking onto Ada whose eyes were rolling back into her head. Blood loss was familiar to Wynne too. They swallowed, “It’s going to be okay,” they tried to tell her, but as the vampire growled once more they weren’t sure.
___
Henri took notice of the knife unsheathing in his back, softly. So Wynne was prepared, and they weren’t the sort to back down. Good. Except they were wrong about one essential thing: It was not going to be okay. Not for Ada, unless they acted fast.
Henri’s voice was quiet as he held his free hand behind him, toward them. “Stay there Wynne.” He wouldn’t stop them if they did not listen, but Henri wished that they did anyway. In his voice, you could hear repressed fear and the instincts that he could never repress no matter how much he tried.
The vampire was not going to stop. She was too far gone. Henri wondered if she heard them at all, holding onto Ada as though she were their property, drinking from her neck as though the blood might bring them back to life. How disrespectful. And so, the young man moved one step forward, just enough for his coat to brush against the doorway.
The vampire’s eyes snapped right toward the motion, staring at him with blood smeared on her mouth like warpaints, lips pulled back from her teeth like a guard dog. And yet, he didn’t blink. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked flatly. “Feeding in a public building? A school? You didn’t even bother to check if anyone was coming, or if she could handle it—did she even consent to this?” His fingers brushed against the compass in his coat’s pocket, thumb running against the smooth surface as his gaze turned to ice. “You’re not just dangerous, you’re a fucking embarrassment,” and now, they were going to die.
—
Henri knew what was he was doing, that had become abundantly clear to them. How or why were questions that could wait until later — there were more pressing issues. Wynne stayed back, not only out of their obedient nature but because they had faith in Henri.
Someone who could sound that steady when facing a scene like this was more well-equipped to deal with it than they ever could be. Maybe with years of time and practice, Wynne would be able to be this calm, but it had not happened yet. They were still a trembling thing, a bundle of bad memories tied together loosely.
Their eyes were focused on Ada, the consciousness slipping from her body. They wanted to tell her to stay with them, to focus on them, but Wynne did not want to interrupt the process with words that in the end did little. They in stead found their mind running laps around itself to not think about the barn, how they had held onto their throat to stop all their blood from leaving their body. How everything had gone vague and blurred. How they’d woken in a clandestine room in a hospital.
He was talking up a storm, all words that they figured they agreed with even though their mind was still spinning, “Hurry,” they said, because they had half a mind to make themself part of the scene to clutch Ada’s wounds. “We need to help her — she needs — hurry.” He had given the impression he was going to handle it, so they needed him to.
__
They did not need to tell him twice to hurry. The slayer not only kept his calm, but settled into it, letting go of the compass. “Keep your knife at the ready. She moves, you stab her face, her eyes, whatever you can reach,” his voice stayed low, determined.
Two strides had him by Ada’s side, shoving away the vampire against the shelves in a way only a hunter could muster and wrapping his arm around the woman’s waist to keep her from falling to the ground. Blood was spilling out of her neck, and the slayer couldn’t do much more than attempt pressing a rag to it, a rag that rapidly was soaking up blood. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said low, for Ada to hear, but for Wynne to understand. “Keep her with us.”
Then, smoothly, as though he had rehearsed this a million times, Henri rose to his full height, turning around without hesitation, or any flourish, with a wooden stake in hand. He drove it straight through the vampire’s chest. No warning. No second chances.
First there was a sound familiar to his ears. The crack of bone and wood. Then, a sound that changed every time. She shrieked, and a mixture of rage and agony spilled out of her lips. Her eyes, they looked at him, panic giving way to fear, but Henri once again did not blink. He watched as resistance grew non existent, as she twitched one last time, each and every cell of her body turning to dusty ash. At last, there was that familiar scent of death.
He didn’t take time to rethink what he did, instead joining Wynne’s side. “We need to get her to the hospital. She needs a transfusion. I’ll pick her up.”
—
They didn’t need to be told twice. Despite the fear that held them in its grip, Wynne knew to use their knife when they needed to. Underneath the instinctive terror was an anger at what had been done to Ada, what was still happening to her. And despite the way they would prefer to sink into the ground, they sprung into action once it was their turn.
Ada was theirs to hold now, the rag not enough to keep the blood in her body. Wynne had seen this before, too: a wound so drastic that it seemed like it would not stop pouring. In Ireland, when they’d found Elias with his stomach ripped to shreds, and they’d tried to stem the bleeding, too. They pressed one hand against the wound, the rag soaking underneath their fingers, while they performed an admirable bit of physicality by pulling off their jumper with one hand and their teeth. Once it had slid down the hand pressed against the wound, they let go for a moment. The fabric was balled up, pushed into the wound so more blood could be soaked up. “We’re going to help you, okay? We got you.”
In the background plenty more occurred than their undressing, but they only followed it with half a mind. The crack, the shriek, the body turning into dust in the periphery of their vision … Wynne was glad that they had something else to tend to.
They looked up for a moment, watching the ash fall to the ground in a peaceful way, contrasting the horror and violence of before.
“I’ll keep the pressure on,” they said, moving so that Henri could lift Ada’s body up but not letting go from the throat, “I don’t have a car, do you — I can call 911, but …” It could take a while in this town before an ambulance came. “You have one, right?” Maybe if they assumed it hard enough, it would be true.
___
Limbs loose, skin cold, Ada felt small in Henri’s arms. He looked at her, and Wynne, with their red stained hands, holding the pressure on the wound with the same desperation he had once seen on his father’s face the night his brother had died.
“I have a car,” Henri’s voice quivered, and he looked away from Wynne. “Faculty lot. Passenger seat’s clear.”
Shifting Ada carefully, the slayer adjusted his grip beneath her knees and her back. “I’ll need you in the car,” he added. It was not a question. He couldn’t exactly just send Wynne back home like that. And maybe he didn’t want to do this alone. “You…” He paused. He didn’t want to say the words.
The door to the hallway groaned as they exited the building. “We’ll go to the E.R., hopefully Mickey’s working at the moment,” not that he owed Henri anything, but he felt more comfortable going there knowing that there was at least someone there who could be of help.
He cast a glance down at Ada, and softer, he said: “She’s going to make it. We’re not too late.”
Henri didn’t promise things lightly.
—
They would have cried of relief at the revelation that Henri had a car if they weren’t so focused on remaining calm. They had not been proactive as they would have wanted to be, but they at least had this — that ability to bury everything and remain calm in the face of terror. It was one of the teachings from home that still remained.
Not all of them were bad, they figured.
“Of course,” they said. It hadn’t even been a question if they were going with to them. That was self explanatory. They did not know who Mickey was, but didn’t feel like asking. There was too much going on already.
Wynne’s fingers were slick with blood, but they kept holding onto the fabric pressed against the wound. “I’ll be in the backseat with her. You can just — just drive.”
They moved with intent, the three of them together, to the faculty lot and Henri’s car. Ada remained breathing. As long as they were moving, there was hope, and as Henri placed Ada’s head in their lap in the back of the car, Wynne remained calm.
What else was there for them to be? They had a duty, and this time they would not squander it.
___
Henri closed the door on Wynne and Ada and circled around to the driver’s seat, turning the key with a sharp turn of his wrist. If his hands were steady on the wheel, yet his jaw was clenched.
“Tilt her head to the left if you can.” Pause. “It should help with…” He sighed. No point in being precise, though his voice didn’t quiver anymore, controlled once again. And yet, Henri couldn’t pretend that he didn’t wish he acted faster. He shouldn’t have waited, he shouldn’t have tried to get Wynne to get out of the hallway and just gotten straight to the point. And the more he thought about what could have been, the more his fingers tightened on the wheel.
“Just don’t let her fall asleep.”
They were already halfway there, roads passing by in a blur. Henri ran a red light. He didn’t blink, nor did he look back. Still, his voice felt tense as he asked “She’s still with us?”
—
They were in a car with someone grievously injured again. History was a wreath, repeating itself again and again and again. The people Wynne cared about got hurt, their hands were slick with blood, and they fought tooth and nail to remain calm.
“I know,” they said, because they did. Elias was bleeding out on the ground under them. They were trying to keep the blood in their own broken open neck. They were borrowing books from the library about first aid care, asking professors endless questions of what to do in scenarios they dreamed of in their mind. Wynne was only a freshmen nursing student, but they knew a thing or two about injury. They were trying to become someone who was prepared for these inevitabilities.
They let Henri drive, using the trustworthy and reliant source of gravity to keep Ada’s blood in her system. Her heart was pumping aggressively though, and still tried to force fluids from the openings in her throat. One hand kept the pressure on, another scrambled around the bag still slung around their shoulder.
A gauze packet was ripped open with help of their teeth, the gauze balled up and packed into the wounds. They were small, nearly too small for packing, but Wynne remembered the stabbed open stomach they took care of before. Their mind was on the edge of spiraling, so they spoke to Ada to keep them both grounded, the jumper finding its place back on the neck and its wounds soon enough. “Yes,” they confirmed, looking up to see where they were. “Are we almost there?”
-----
Henri’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror as he heard Wynne’s voice, enough to spot the blood on the hands again, to focus on the words, because that’s what mattered. To keep speaking, to keep her alive. Something flickered in his expression, briefly. A mix of respect in the face of their bravery, and something else, something closer to guilt, because he should have acted faster. He shouldn’t have waited.
“Two minutes,” he said. “Less if the lights stay green.”
He gripped the wheel harder, swerving slightly to dodge a pothole he normally wouldn’t care about—but Ada couldn’t afford another jolt. He was calculating routes, calculating time. Calculating blood loss and heart rate, too, somewhere under it all. The way he drove wasn’t reckless. It was urgent.
He fell quiet for a moment, before he finally added : “When we get there, I’ll carry her in. You stay with me, if Mickey isn’t here and they ask questions, don’t lie. But don’t answer unless you have to.”
Wynne had stayed steady. Had moved without needing to be told. They weren’t the same kind of protector he was, but they were one all the same. And for that, Henri decided that he would be trusting them.
Then the hospital’s brutalist shape came into view, and Henri flipped on the hazard lights as he turned sharp into the ER drop-off. “She’s still breathing?” he asked, already pulling the car into park, already moving to open the door.
—
Their schooling had remained awfully theoretical in their first year of college, meaning Wynne wasn't knowledgeable enough yet to know if two minutes was too long or not. But Henri drove fast and Ada remained warm in their arms, still breathing despite the blood she'd lost and was still alive.
Sometimes alive was all you got, and they knew that better than any other. Sometimes alive took fight and grit and help. Wynne was just glad that they could be useful in this situation. They clutched Ada as Henri pulled into the drop-off, nodding. “Yes,” they said. “She's alive.”
Their TA opened the door and as the two of them started to move Ada out of the car slowly but steadily into Henri's arms, who carried her with an ease that revealed his strength. Wynne took the lead into the hospital, automatic doors opening for them with a soft hum (they were so grateful for automatic doors), white lights beating down on the three of them.
The proceedings were a blur of medical bureaucracy, but at least the nurse who did the intake didn't spend too long stuck on details. The doctor Henri had mentioned before, Mickey, appeared to the scene as well and soon enough Ada was whisked away on a bed on wheels, into surgery. Wynne stood quiet and blinking for a moment, the ambient sounds of hospital airconditioning, distant beeps and muffled conversations overruling every other thought.
They snapped out of it, looked up at Henri. “I'm going to stay and wait,” they said, voice shaking yet determined. Their hands were sticky with blood. “We should sit down.”
—
“Good idea.” Pause. “I’ll get us coffee.” Because that was going to give him some time to think about the repercussions.
Wynne had seen too much to consider any of this to be normal, Henri told himself, too much of the vampire, too much of the hunter, and too much blood too. If he wondered if shock would cause them to completely block the memories or compartmentalise them, or better yet, rationalize everything so it made normal, natural sense.
He hadn’t asked what they liked, so he went for a latte. If they preferred his espresso, he’d trade with them. Wynne deserved that sort of comfort, and he was notoriously bad, as a person, when it came to that.
Henri found them outside, sitting on a bench and the first thing he noticed was the state of their clothes, bloodstained, definitely ruined. “How are you holding up?” He handed them a cup and sat down on the other end, his gaze trailing across their face, searching for signs of something he never saw on himself. Trauma, shock, disgust. When did he become so jaded? How old was he when the sight of blood no longer made him blink? “You did great. Now it’s no longer in our hands.”
—
Wynne was left to stare at the blood on their hands, taken back to all the places where their hands had looked like this before. They wiped them on their jeans, frustrated with the physical reminder of Ada’s tragedy and hoping Henri would come back soon. They moved outside, pulling up their legs after sitting down on a bench and staring at the stretches of concrete ahead.
They had questions for Henri. It would be easier to focus on them than the crusts under their nails or the memories of Zane’s fangs in their own neck, so when he returned with two coffees, they let out a sigh of relief. They took the coffee.
“I’ll be alright,” they said, because it was the truth. They fought tooth and nail for that, every day. They had to be alright, or at least try to be. Sometimes they almost succeeded at it. “And you?” They stared at the coffee – latte was great, by the way – and blew on it to cool it a little. “I’m glad that we could get her here on time.” The doctors here would be able to help. They had done so for Wynne after they’d been fed on similarly.
They looked at Henri, then, head angling sideways. “How did you know what to do?” They knew through experience and connection, so maybe that was the case for Henri too. Or… “Are you … are you a hunter, or do you just know about these things?”
—
Henri furrowed his eyebrows at that. I’ll be alright was not the sort of thing you expected to hear from someone who just saw a human looking thing get turned to dust. Like in the movies. And the books. And the stories. A nightmare inducing human looking thing that he was pretty sure they’d want to call a vampire, because who else bit people’s neck looking for a delicious treat of blood?
And if it was just the supernatural trauma, on top of that, Wynne had seen Henri stab said vampire, and then been asked by an apparent murderer to help him bring Ada to the hospital, Ada who was definitely losing a lot of blood. If the sight did absolutely nothing to him, he couldn’t imagine this was the case for someone who had, so far, lived a normal life. So why were they adamant to pretending they were alright ?
The lack of panic, in the aftermath, made him wonder if perhaps… Are you a hunter ?
“I’m fine, yeah.” He nodded. “And a hunter, nicely caught,” with a quiet sigh, he looked at them. “Vampire hunter. I… sensed that thing, that’s why I was there. I should have…” Well if he had known Wynne knew, he would have been faster to act. Stupid fucking morality, heh? “Well, there’s no point in wondering about the what ifs. We did what we could, and we did it well.” Pause. “Not your first Wicked Rest adventure, I take it?”
—
So their T.A. was a slayer. One of their classmates had been nearly killed by a vampire. And Wynne was covered in someone’s blood again. They had hoped to find some kind of normalcy at college, which seemed like a regular step in the average adolescent’s life, but there was nothing like normalcy. Of course, they had gone looking for this, had not ignored the signs when it came to Ada. Their curiosity and need to do something right were incessant.
“I know a few other hunters,” they said, in lieu of explanation. Of course, their bonds with said hunters were a little frail at present. They tried not to think of that right now. Maybe Henri knew Jade and Emilio, after all. “I agree, though. We did what we could. And she will be okay.” Physically, at least, and emotionally after a long while. Those things took time, or so people said. Wynne wasn’t sure how much time exactly.
At Henri’s question they shook their head. Of course, their first adventure of that kind had started outside of town, but they left that fact unspoken. “No. I encountered vampires before.” Most were cruel, some were not. And then there was their girlfriend, of course, who fell in the same category of undead things. “Among other things. I didn’t know that this was going to be a vampire, though, I just … something was off, about Ada’s partner, and I had to check it out. I thought it would be something supernatural. But I’m glad you were there.” They fiddled with a loose thread. “I only brought a knife. Usually I do carry holy water, but not to class. Maybe I should start doing that too.”
—
“We’re supposed to be discreet. Clearly we’re not doing such a great job here,” Henri offered a shy smile. The closest thing to comfort he could offer them at the moment. In this moment, he thought of Eve, who was the one who had to deal with this bunch of idiots (himself included) and make sure to keep it all under tight wrap. And yet how many people, like Wynne, had to live knowing that there were all sorts of monsters lurking out there.
Henri wrapped his arm around the back of the bench, because all he could do right now was listen, and find a way to transfer that guilt over to his shoulders. “Wynne,” he finally said, both to catch their attention and give his words an impact. “What you did was the right thing to do. You looked out for your friend, and you did what was in your power to get her to safety.” And they never should have had to deal with it in the first place. He had failed them by allowing the situation to get so far. But that was something he could deal with later. Beating himself up in front of Wynne wasn’t going to help. “You brought a knife to class. You’re already doing a lot.” A sentence he shouldn’t have had to pronounce, in a normal world, in another town. “I’ll send you a kit, but don’t you ever feel like you did not do your best today. You were great. The situation was just awful.”
—
“It was the vampire who was not discreet,” they offered, which was true. It was not through a hunter’s failure that Wynne knew about vampires. Emilio had offered the information kind of freely though, but they had never seen any issue with it. It was better to know about all the dangers that hid in the world. Even if that knowledge weighed heavy and was a cause for fatigue — they felt better being aware. Not only was there danger in ignorance, it was like a crude tool wielded to cause a power imbalance.
Still, maybe Ada would have been better off never knowing about vampires. They looked up at Henri and his words of comfort, not having known that they had needed them. But Wynne was a creature of guilt, their very existence having had a price of blood and pain. “I know. That it was the right thing. I just wish it hadn’t come to this.” If this was their best, and their best had still seen Ada in a hospital room, then they felt heavy with the inevitability of pain and their own lack of say in it. “But I know it is not my weight to carry what the vampire did.” They would blame themself for inaction, but not for the wounds on Ada’s neck. Or at least, they’d trie. “That would be nice. It’s good to know that you’re a slayer.” Considering their other two slayer contacts were kind of wrought, between Jade having tried to kill Ariadne and Emilio going through something unspeakable. “Oh. You did well too. By the way.”
__
“You’d think they would be more careful, considering what could happen if they were caught by the wrong people,” because he could easily imagine a scenario where a scientist decided to study the human who drinks blood and has no heart beat. But Henri also understood that he would never be able to put himself in the shoes of someone who dealt with that sort of hunger every day ; because he was a hunter, and putting himself in the shoes of the people he hunted was not something he was supposed to do. He looked at what he knew, and he decided whether or not they were going to be a problem to others. As far as secrecy was concerned, the best he could do was give them a stern talk about the consequences to being found out, but when it came to keeping humanity safe, second chances were so very rarely granted : today, he didn’t take chances. Maybe he should have. Maybe they’d find out that Ada agreed to this, and knew the risks. Maybe not. But maybes were all it took for someone to live or die, and Henri had chosen that Ada’s life was the one worth saving.
It was a choice he made.
Choices. And the subjectivity of good or bad.
“It’s not your fault. You cannot blame yourself for the nature of others,” because there were always going to be people with bad intentions, and there would always be people like them, like Wynne, feeling bad because they didn’t see the signs. “But you can be there for Ada when she wakes up, and you can help her feel better about what happened. Maybe she’ll blame herself for putting you in danger, or for ending up in this situation.” He finished his coffee cup, reaching behind him to put it in the recycling bin. “I’m here if you need anything. I’ll give you my number, probably better than emails the university might see,” he grinned, pausing as they took the time to compliment him. “I did my best.” Which did not mean he couldn’t have done better. “That’s all we can do sometimes.”
—
They were quiet for a moment, thinking of the undead people they knew. Would Henri say the same if Ariadne was feeding on someone who lived close to him? Everyone had to eat and some people had to source their nutrients in conflicting ways. Ada’s person had been in the wrong, but they also didn’t know the full story. “Maybe they thought this was careful.” They wondered if what they were feeling was guilt for a moment, before realizing that almost everything they felt was tainted with guilt. Their actions had led to the death of a vampire and even though that might still have happened if they hadn’t been there, it was an indisputable fact. Maybe they saved Ada today, or maybe she would have been okay. Wynne closed their eyes for a moment, exhausted and somewhat defeated.
“I know.” But the nature of others was so hard to understand sometimes, whereas during other times it was so very easy. “I’ll stay for Ada to wake up. I’m sure they called her emergency contact too, but her family lives in another state so …” They were quiet for a moment, rubbing their eyes. Wynne took out their phone, unlocking it and handing it over for Henri to put in their number. “That will be for the best. I’m better at texting, anyway.” Emails exhausted them. “It’s the only thing we can do,” they murmured. “The thing we have to do.”
___
Henri shook his head. It did not matter what they thought. When people’s lives were on the line, thinking it to be safe was not enough, and with Wynne aiming to become a nurse, he wondered why they still managed to find excuses for that monster who almost got Ada killed. “Careful isn’t treating people like a juice box. Ada is not expendable and she should never have been treated as such by her,” he scooted a bit closer, reaching over to put a hand on their arm, holding them while he got to his point. “What she did was selfish and reckless, and if Ada’s family knew what happened today,or if they had lost Ada today…” He paused, because that could have been the outcome. It could still be the outcome, at least until he heard she was walking out of here. “I don’t think they’d agree that they were being careful.”
And you had to consider the fact that this might not have been their first feeding Oopsie. Or that it was. Henri knew that this would be yet another reason to stay awake at night. He might have done this for over ten years now, he still didn’t know how to silence the voices.
“Good idea. She’ll be glad to have a friend nearby.” The hunter reached out to add his number into their phone, texting himself quickly and giving it back. “And if she doesn’t remember much of what happened, try to keep her in the dark,” although he was all too familiar with the way some humans craved dangerous encounters. Thrill seekers by choice. Lucky idiots.
“It’s the right thing to do. Thank you Wynne. You’re a good person.”
[pm] Well, I'd be missing time if that were the case, wouldn't I? Not missing any time! [...] I can't say I remember the plot. I only remember Hugh Jackman's wet, naked body. You see his arse in one of them. Never full frontal, though. Suppose they would have lost the PG-13 rating for that.
No, it's just me. Or you, I suppose, in the Motel.
[pm] Time is a construct. You could be missing time and not know it, but I'm abandoning this argument, because you weren't experimented on. People will watch anything, I've found. I googled X Men movies and they have a more substantial plot than that it seems.
[pm] But if they're making rules, they shouldn't need the rules to be broken. Should they? [user is getting confused, but this is unsurprising because user is stupid.]
No. It's a [...] fae that turns into other people. I don't know how it works, exactly. Not my area.
[pm] Hey, Wynne! Just wanted to check in on you after the whole "horse skull disease" situation. So sad about that horse! Anyway, have you had any thoughts about building your wealth recently? Any desire to make investments?
[pm] I hope the horse will be okay! I went back to look at it. It was a magical horse. I want to know more about it. Why were you so adamant about what it was? I don't think the horse was ill, you know. I don't think about it a lot. I try to save what I can, but I find thinking about money to make me sad and tired. I don't know what I'd invest in. I am supposed to receive a large sum of money soon, a person I'm emailing with told me so.
The latest exhibition with the artist Bernal at MuertArte has been canceled. Any tickets purchased will be refunded fully.
Come to the gallery to see the exhibit for free and notify the curator if you want to take a piece. They are being given away. I cannot take them with me anyway.
[pm] Sure, makes sense! Maybe I'll give it another go. I would love being able to give people handmade things. I like that. I'll definitely be sure to pay it forward, too. Most of the people I've met so far have lived here for way longer than I have, though.
[pm] You should! Maybe knitting is more for you? Some people prefer that because it's less fingering. Well, eventually there will be newer people for you to help, too. I have heard it said that this town has a high turnaround.
The link that he had on the flyer directed me to a website that appeared to be this one. It asked me to enter my information to see his page. When I did, I was locked out. I am told this is a very common scheme? Though the hacker himself appears to have simply irritated the public. It is unlikely he cared about me, or any of those who interacted with him, in specific.
Okay. [...] Be careful. Good luck. I hope you find him.
I don't know much about hackers and common hacking schemes. When I get strange emails I sometimes ask my partner or a friend who's very good at computers. I've been told that the person emailing me about a huge grant left in my name is probably not real, even though we've been emailing for a long time. I don't even want the money, but I can't just ignore him you know?
That hacker sounds like a bad, frustrating person.
Oh, so you're just a cults investigator? The same, pretty much! Except I came across their online activity, which had the same dog whistles. Or rat whistles!
[pm] I don't think I am, but you need college for some things. Because we live in a society. [User says this seriously. They don't get that this is a thing people say sarcastically.]
I guess that is what I'd like to do. Not as my job, but on the side. I didn't seek it out intentionally, but when it came on my path I decided to investigate. You know? It's good to know other people are working against cults here.
Yeah, of course. I've got a few jars left. I didn't realize how high in demand blackberry jam would be. I guess it makes sense because I do love me some blackberries.
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
janainaart
yousharknotpass
