for a moment, clementine doesn’t do a thing but watch him. the earth witch examines his eyes and what kind of emotion shines behind the harsh look he gives her. she never understood gratuitous hatred. she can admit she knows now more of anger and resentment than before and yet, she can justify this anger. clementine doesn’t see in which way the anger this boy carries is justified – not yet, as they haven’t decided his fate yet. the witch knows he will be dead soon enough but then again that’s only because he attacked them first.
“ what do you get out of all this? ” she asks then, raises her eyebrows. “ you nearly killed a woman and for what? we never even attacked you before you did us. ” clementine straightens herself up then, looking down at the man as anger starts boiling hotter inside her veins. “ so you want to talk about mind fuck? i helped heal a carved up, bloodied mess of a woman and i can’t understand what you two sickos got out of that. ”
He looks at her like she’s simple. “What does it get me? Being tied up I’m getting real fucking little. I’ve screwed up and I’m gonna pay the ultimate.” There’s a heaviness when he speaks, settled behind fatalistic words that are excusable because they’re true. “I get nothing from losing my life to your satanic cause.”
When he looks at her again he is a lost man, not shameful but a far shade from proud. “This war was started long before you ever came into the fucking picture. It came before me or my parents or even my damn grand parents. And I have scars telling me I was made to take your kind out- to keep the world balanced.” He rattles his chains to motion to old wounds. “Didn’t have no fucking healer to fix me. Just father’s and hands. So as soon as your fuck wits began bragging to the world, my path was set.”
For most of her life, Ariadne had no reason to find insecurity; not in her looks, her personality, her talents… instead, she was carefully crafted and curated to be perfect, to play into everyone’s wants and preferences for her. Most comments about her looks ranged from praise to that very thing - too cold, too stiff, stoic and porcelain, doll more than human. Sometimes, even within the coven, Ari felt like a puppet. Even now, she was voting with the masses, despite her better judgement, and somehow, his comment cut somewhere within. She doesn’t look like she cares, about anything at all. Before meeting the other girls, Ari may have believed that was true.
“Maybe so,” Was all she offered by way of a reply, not wasting breath and emotional energy on the captured hunter. The longer she sat down there, the worse she was feeling about it all, about everything. Even for someone who brutally tortured her friend, and would do the same to her if given the chance, probably, this didn’t seem ethically right.
His answer both confirmed and eased Ari’s guilt, making her feel better and worse at once. It was her fault, partially, perhaps in speeding up this demise for them all - but not entirely… a slight comfort in such scary times. “You know we did not ask for this, yes? None of us did. Some of us-” Cleo came to mind, and Ari’s heart tightened. “Some of us do not even want this, what you are hunting us for. We would give it up in a heartbeat. Did you know?”
If he were honest, he wouldn’t have expected anything ruthless to come out of these girls. He’d spent enough tilted time with them in the last few weeks to understand they were far less organized than any of the Hunter leaders - or at least- figurehead would have led Jack to believe. These were girls, for the most part, and clueless to boot. Not that he sympathized with them, but he’d have had an easier time believing these witches had hired a hit man to take him out than to think any of them might take the job upon themselves. Which meant his brain was forced to toil over why the fuck he was still here?
Jack wasn’t confident the bright haired witch could explain that to him, she seemed more keen to screw around for a reaction. His shrug was to taunt her more- she seemed like the kind who’d be aggressed through silence, both the idea of his end and the coven’s unwilling.
"Don’t want it but -?” He grit his teeth, shrugging. “Doesn’t change how it is. Didn’t choose for my family to be involved in the annihilation of your kind either but it’s been our fucking plague since they first burned you. Don’t see how I was going to get around hunting you down.”
“Uh uh uh,” It’s taken a hot minute but Cole’s full of renewed confidence; she pushes the end of the flashlight under his chin to lift his gaze. “That’s Ms. Witch to you.”
There’s a garden chair propped up against the adjacent wall; the witch’s heels click as she claims it, unfolding it and setting it two feet away from the hunter. “Revenge? Nah. A tad too pedestrian for my tastes.” She takes a seat, one long folded atop the other and aims the light back at his face. “It’s my get-up for when I call upon Satan’s powers.”
She’s even more aggravating this way, acting calm and cavalier while he’s choking on his own god damn spit. Jack wants out, or, the ability to go spontaneously deaf. Anything other than this bullshit.
“I get it,” he grunts, “Take the piss or whatever you gap toothed fucks like to say.” He leans back, hands to his side as if he has anywhere else he can run. “You wanna waste your time lobbing insults at a rat caught in a cage, floors all yours” Only then does the memory come creeping back and he pauses. “You’re not gonna do that shit again, are you?” it’s quieter but his Abuelo’s voice is haunting in his mind.
while it’s undeniable that fear is clementine’s companion, there’s something harsher around the edges as she holds herself. her anger and sorrow dignify her in a way and she stands straighter, looks at jack with all but sunken eyes and sharp edges. he barks at her kindness and her eyes narrow. she isn’t used to this surge of darkness rising from within her gut burning hot and heavy inside her and she takes her time to respond.
“ i think you’d do worse, given the chance, ” she responds coolly. clementine looks at the man before her and she’s reminded of the letters carved onto cole’s chest, scars that not even magic could completely erase. it fuels her rage. “ it’s not poisoned. ” she says then, crossing her arms. “ now, would we be such evil witches if we didn’t send you off with a big scary ritual? ”
“Would I?” it’s an empty ask. He’s already seen the necromancing cunt. Even if Roland hadn’t left the brand, Jack and he’s cruelty was littered all over Cole’s face. As he spent his days in the darkness, he reminded himself he could not regret those actions. These witches only looked human, they were unnatural and would do worse to him given the chance.
He snorts, tipping the water glass left and right in his restrained hands. “I know better than to trust what you say. Soft face doesn’t mean a soft heart.” He glares at the witch, a broken exhaustion behind his eyes. “If you wanna judge me do it in the fucking open. It’s a mind fuck trying to understand what the lot of you get out of this.”
Perhaps it was the protection charm from Cleo that had been Ari’s saving grace - avoiding his knife and fists, and apparently, his memory, even. She always wore it, under her clothes, tucked up against her heart, and since having slipped it over her head… no physical harm had come her way. Only the anguish from inside, the one that was her own doing. Seeing him now did little to ease that, if not only make it even worse. His words were strong and confident, but Ari could see beyond the surface.
“Oh, just stop,” She sighed, annoyed, hands automatically going up to smooth down the vibrant shades now ruining her beautiful once-raven locks. Ariadne was well aware of her ridiculousness, and didn’t need a confined hunter making her feel worse. Jack’s words made her stomach churn, and Ari regretted having come down at all; but she needed to do this. She had to know. Slowly, she took a seat just out of reach from him, sitting on the cool basement floor and crossing her legs, hand dropping into a hand propped up by an elbow on the edge of her knee. “You know, I do not want you dead.”
The words surprised her, even. Ari fully planned to vote to trade him for Luce, but under circumstances that did not involve the death of her friend, her mentor - someone she found herself looking to for guidance, a leader… the musician would have hesitated to condemn anyone. “Was it the article that brought you to us?” Was it me? My fault?
His snort was stuck in his throat, coughing some with the sound and leaning back. This place was doing no goof for his mind. Hell, even his insults sounded half baked and recycled. For a moment, he only hung his head, trying to gather himself during her tongue scolding.
“Maybe you don’t, but your bitch crew does.” It was not fire in his tone, only fact. “Dunno how you’re involved with em all and I don’t know how much I care, but it doesn’t seem like you’d have a reason to care.” Metal shakes as he lifts his hand to point at her. “That face? That ain’t a caring-” he coughed,” a caring mug. Look like you’d have the coldest pussy in town.”
In retrospect, taunting your captor into murder may have been poor taste, even if the hunter was bored. For Jack, he supposed it didn’t matter. He’d given up, the bottom of his group as it was. “I’ve been waiting for your kind to come around since birth. Abuelo had that burned into our fucking skulls.” And skin, he reminded himself, the scars on his forearms proof. “But yeah. Whichever one of you thought blabbing to a reporter worked wonders for the cause.”
his words unfazed her, as she knew he was probably just trying to get a rise out of her like he did every one of them. “ – and the DRUNK asshole kicked out of a bar is a HUNTER, doesn’t that show FATE has a sense of humor?” the blonde remarked back with a roll of her eyes as she leaned on a nearby post in the basement, the temperature in the room dropping COLDER. he was in rough shape, STUPIDLY refusing all food and water. though, if she was being honest, zelenia didn’t really care what kind of shape he was in. “i’m not here for anything other then to keep an EYE on you.” it was her turn to keep WATCH on the hunter, and though zelenia didn’t mind she had to admit it was boring and she much rather be doing something else. PAYBACK sounded wonderful, but zelenia knew it was too easy for her to lose control of her magic – so for now, she’d keep her cool.
“I’m not a fucking drunk,” but he didn’t have much to back it up. He was tired, always tired, and it dragged him down - kept his wit even slower than normal. There was a small, unsightly display of stubble gathering on his cheeks and he was sure he smelled worse than usual. “Ha,” he snorted, “They sent you to babysit? The fuck are you going to do if I came for you? Ya look even smaller now I’m sober.” He cleared his throat then smirked. “Can’t pretty someone out of hurting you, ya know that right?”
WHEN: friday may 29, close to midnight
WHERE: genevieve’s basement
WHO: closed for @jack-hopkins
Tonight, Cole’s dressed the part: five inch heels, leather shorts, corset, dripping in all-black couture. It’s witchy in a way that’s mocking, seductive in a manner that’s weaponised, and the silk of her top exposes the scarlet letter gouged into her skin. It’s precise, intentional armour, and she descends slow into the darkness of the basement so that each step echoes.
There’s a flashlight, the kind with a handle, in her left hand. Cole stands in the black, just listens to the both of them breathing before she switches it on, beamed directly into his face. “Who’s calling the shots now?” With that, she swings the heavy butt of the flashlight hard across his face.
Jack would have been the first to admit he would not expect the witch to clean up how she did. Of course, he’d only ever seen her edging on worse for wear. Eve half naked she’d been more bone than woman so it was strange to see the dark witch tricking her body into something seductive.
“Every fucking one of you witch whores, apparently.” His voice is deadly dry and he coughs for a dry minute after. “Is that your revenge costume?”
SOMETHING IN HER stomach churned when she was told to come down here, especially after learning jack’s fate. the blonde remembered running into him that one night, the anger in him now even more chilling after seeing the damage done to cole, but she wanted to show she could do this. that she could be strong as all the other witches, so she straightened up and made her way down into the basement and saw him there. asteria felt her jaw clench a bit when he looked at her, that chuckle making her ball her fists by her side as she shrugged, “yeah, guess that was me.” asteria said, trying her hardest to make her voice stern, but keeping her distance.
ALTHOUGH HIS COMMENT about being surprised she was a witch made her brows raise, “why is that so surprising?” asteria asked, arms crossing over her chest before shaking her head, “i’m just here to keep an eye on you.” torturing was the least of his problems, she knew that, but clearly he didn’t. still she didn’t say much on the topic as she eyed him, “no, that clearly seems to be more up your ally, you know with the fact you hurt one of our own to where we could hardly recognize her?” the tiny blonde reminded him, a coldness in her tone now as she remembered the way cole looked when she was found, swallowing down the lump in her throat.
“Why?” Jack chuckles at the question, rolling his eyes. “Ain’t that fucking obvious?” He didn’t have the energy to run through why this baby faced child with paint on her elbows wasn’t exactly a descriptive match for cruel witch. Maybe he’d lucked out. He’d pissed off half the other’s in this group. At least the blonde seemed to have less bloodlust in her eye.
“Just seems like you may be lost. Or mixed up in somethin’ too big for your britches.” He finished with a wheezing sigh. His eyes rolled again and he looked to the side. “Yeah, right. You’re all so damn twisted up about hurting your sweet witch. Wasn’t like she sat around looking pretty- did she tell you that? Did she mention the monsters she let borrow her tongue?” Just the thought of it had Jack feeling cold, spitting onto the floor.
status: closed for @jack-hopkins
location: genevieve’s basement
time & date: sunday evening, the 24th
until now, she’d not wanted to see him. he had been half of the team who hurt cole so bad; he had been who had injured zelenia in their struggle to capture him, until he was subdued by their magic. and now, he was a hot topic among the coven. it bothered her some even considered wanting to save him - he had to be sent back to the hell he came from, and in turn, bring back her friend.
so, she’d avoided him, avoided gen’s entirely. but today, her hair had been dyed a vibrant color which she hated, she was lost and listless without a specific home at the moment, and battling demons in her heart much larger than she’d ever faced before. now she did want to see him. she had something to ask him.
“good to see you so miserable,” ari spoke quietly, coming from the shadows where she had been hesitating before approaching the hunter. it felt… barbaric, almost, holding a person hostage. but then again, what he’d done to them, to her friends, was much worse. “did they tell you that we are voting on tuesday on what to do with you?”
In the yawning dark, Jack was losing himself. He found it harder to cling to anger, the idle time worse than when the women taunted. At least the taunts forced his mind to focus. In the nothing he ached, confronted by things he had not done, had not said. Now he found himself excited for one of the magical whores to show their face, if only for distraction. The witch who approached him now was new- he couldn’t remember her even from the initial scuffle. Seemed his brain had failed him as much as his body.
"Christ,” he spits, making to cross himself only to struggle with his hands. “You look fucking ridiculous with that hair. What color even is that?” He squinted against the light , his head splitting for other reasons. “Miserable is dramatic. I’m dealing with it. Does it feel good to watch? Are you a sadistic little fuck in addition to Satan’s spawn?” They were biting words out of tired lips, something missing in the middle, exhausted. “What to do with me?” he snorts. “I feel I know what you’d do.”
where: a basement, somewhere
when: sometime after the seance
who: closed for @asteriadawson
Jack was tired. The days were yawning on and he spent them in a mixed flurry of rage and despondency. Fate taunted him with the truth - with face and names and proof- but he could do nothing. He’d near rubbed his wrists raw trying to shimmy out of his shackles. Nothing. He would waste away in this hole of a basement before he saw any answers.
The one watching him currently was another blonde - this one new time him. She was smaller and more afraid then some of the other witches. It took a moment but a drunken memory tugged at him and he let out a raspy chuckle. “You’re the one from the bar, ain’t ya. With the hanky- I got that right?” He coughed then sat up straighter. “Who’da thunk you’d be a fucking witch.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a cruel one-yet-here we are.” He made as if to widen his arms but they clinked on shackles. “Why you here, girl? Looking to become a tortureress?”
where: a basement, somewhere
when: sometime after the seance
who: closed for @zeleniarosi
The darkness was long and Jack was slow to adjust. The witches were not adept torturers - he knew as they had yet to properly torture him at all. Dark and cold was not pleasant but he found it frustrating more than anything. Occasionally a witch would wander down, placing a lot of anger and blame at his fee that he didn’t quite deserve. When the lights flickered this time, he knew the blonde instantly. The Greek’s face brought a laugh to his lips that was cold and bitter, his voice hoarse and dry. He’d refused any drink or food from the bitches, afraid of poison.
“Wondered when you’d show back up,” Jack snickers, the humor cruel in his eyes. “Fiery foreigner is a witch-of fucking course. The big guy must be laughing his ass off.” Jack spits into the tile. “Are you here for round 2? Gonna yell at me some more?” There a sound of defeat even in his taunt, as though hes not all there. “If it’s payback for how I got you before, take your fuckin’ shot.”
where: jack hopkin’s shed
when: night time, the 11th of May
who: @rolandbb // @cole-campbell
tw: blood, violence, torture
As the festival comes to a close on Sunday evening, Jack Hopkins approaches a slightly inebriated Cole. He offers an apology for previous behavior along with a powdered drug as a gesture of good faith. Once alone, he knocks the girl unconscious as information from Roland has led him to believe Cole is one of the suspected witches. The following day, he calls Roland to share the news.
// jack
05/16/2020
The hunter is waiting in his back yard, feeling his entire body tuned into the universe. He's sent the text to Roland and is only now waiting by the fire, a bottle of booze ready in 'celebration'. Jack hasn't touched the bottle, he's kept himself sober. Call it intuition, but he expects he'll need his wits about him once Ro arrives. Indeed, when he sees his friend coming around the dilapidated gate, he smirks. "Boy, have I got a surprise for you my brother. Is that dressing down?" He'd been sure to ask his friend to wear work clothes, promising him a dirty task.
// roland
05/16/2020
It was a little hard to guess what Jack had for him waiting, but Roland hadn't expected a half-drugged girl waiting for him; and especially not Cole. He kept his face blank, eyes leaving her after a long moment to look at his friend, his fellow hunter, teeth clamped together hard. This was bad... or was it? "You know damn well I don't got a job, so yeah, this is my work clothes. What are we doin' with her?"
// cole
05/16/2020
Of course, she'd known it was a bad idea to accept drugs from Jack. It had been a bad idea to get involved the last time they'd spent quality time together - but well, bad ideas and Cole were intimately acquainted. What had happened next was foggy, but when Cole came to, it was accompanied by the gut feeling this time she'd really fucked up. Her head was pounding and she moaned weakly, freezing at the sound of a very familiar voice.
// jack
05/16/2020
He looked at Roland like he was cray to even ask. "What do you mean? Yous was the one who told me what the little lady was, Ro. What do you think we oughtta do with her?" He pulls the groggy girl up by a fistful of thick afro. "Doesn't feel like one we needa test. "
// roland
05/16/2020
Fuck, fuck fuck... Ro was careful to keep his icy gaze on Jack, refusing to send a closer look to the witch under his iron grip. "This is-" He swallowed, trying to remain calm, collected, in control, strong, hide the way his heart was racing, the sick feeling- the words of his dad- everything- "This wasn't the fuckin' plan, man. What if she had- had someone watchin' her?" Excuses. Ro could tell they were coming out weak, so he jutted his chin out, eyes hard on Jack. "So, what, you gonna kill her?" Still wouldn't look at her face. Still wouldn't move his eyes from the other hunter's own. "Shouldn't we get what she knows outta her first??"
// cole
05/16/2020
It was taking a hot minute, but Cole was beginning to clue in on what was happening. It helped that they were being pretty fucking explicit (she had a feeling kill her was meant in the most literal sense) and now she opened her eyes, her scalp burning from the force. There was a makeshift gag shoved in her mouth that reeked and Cole began to choke on it, hoping one of them would pull it out of her goddamn throat.
// jack
05/16/2020
"If she was being watched they'd have stopped me knocking her out, I'd think. Probably woulda interfered." There is a brightness in Jack's eyes that is betrayed by the hard line of his mouth. He looked down at the choking witch and let her go, but only after ripping the gag out of her mouth. When he shoves her its hard enough to send her to the floor. Then he's by Ro, looking quite casual. "What do you wanna know? Ask away."
// roland
05/16/2020
He was going to make Roland do this - that much, the hunter was sure of. The expression was all too familiar, and Ro finally looked down... at her, at what he had been presented with. His humanity told him one thing; she was just a girl, lost like him, no home, no one to call her own. Yet, part of him couldn't help but see the obvious. This was their chance. Their time. And Cole was the best shot they had, especially due to her wandering. Ro knew too much about her. She knew too much about him, and now she knew who they were, and what they were doing.
A line had been crossed, and though Ro's heart ached and his stomach turned, the last shred of morals begging him to turn back now, he knew better. "How many?" He finally asked, his voice mechanical, lacking all the soft tones that had been painfully present the last time they had talked. For a moment, maybe the alcohol or the drugs were to blame, Ro had felt some sort of flicker, deep within. Now, it was cold embers, and Jack's presence forced him to shut down any humanity. "How fuckin' many of you is there in Salem?"
// cole
05/17/2020
Of course, she recognized both of them, but it was Roland Cole's gaze lingered on long after he'd spoken. God, I'm a fucking idiot. This was karma catching up with her of course, but Cole's first concern was how the fuck she'd let him dupe her. Evidently staying in the same fucking town - this town - was making her lose her touch. As for the current situation at hand, well - using the patriarchy to her advantage had worked plenty of times before.
From where she stared at up them through a mess of curls, Cole smiled. "I know I'm not the one who's meant to call the shots in this whole scenario, but you gotta ask a girl her safe word before you pull this kinda stunt, boys." Her voice was easy, light. Blokes always fall for the dumb whore act. Her voice was raw from the gag. "How about we save the roleplay for another day and pop some molly together instead? I've got some, back at my place."
// jack
05/17/2020
There it was, clear as fucking day in the way Roland and the dark witch bitch were staring at each other. Something is not right. The woman looked small, hardly weight 100 pounds, but she had bewitched his friend in every sense of the word. It would test his strength and, if Roland let, it would make them weak. Jack would not allow their operation to be compromised because of it.
He doesn't wait for Roland, smacking the girl quickly across the face at her jokes. It's easier than he imagines - she stopped being a woman the moment Ro identified her for what she was. "You're absolutely right - you don't call the fucking shots. When my friend asks you a question, you answer." He hisses the end of it, before looking back to Roland with a nod.
// roland
05/17/2020
With Jack’s back turned, Ro’s eyes shut hard against the sickening sound of his hand connecting with Cole’s face, and once again, his stomach churned. He tried to picture Cole being someone else, anyone else, one of the other witches. He tried to picture Cole working magic, doing something terrible, but he could just remember how she sounded when she talked about it before. All too soon, Jack’s eyes were back on him, and Roland mimicked the nod. Confirming you did good. “Just answer the question,” He added gruffly, jaw set hard between gritted teeth, still keeping his blank face as mechanical and void of humanity as possible. “Sooner you do, the better for everyone. You’re not gonna like what happens unless you tell us... everything .” Roland wondered for who he was asking; his own sanity, or her safety. One glance at Jack, eyes eager and bright and hungry, and Ro had a feeling this would end in blood either way.
cole
05/17/2020
So yeah, Cole was more accustomed to getting smacked around than most of the other girls - but fuck, that didn't mean it hurt any less. When she looked up at them, his hand print was a scarlet brand across her cheek. It was there in the square of her shoulders, a quiet rage as her gaze darted from one face to the next. "How many what in Salem, Roland?" She spat his name out as if it were venomous, the only leak of anger in an otherwise placid tone. "Women who'd put up with this weirdo misogynistic kink shit? My guess would be slim to none."
// jack
05/17/2020
"Shut the fuck up, witch. Don't play helpless and dumb - we know what you are. Tell her, Ro!" The witch thinks she has something using Rolands name. Jack will not stand for it. When he looks back at Roland it's slow-expectant. "You gonna let her pull the wool over our eyes. Pretend the shit she said was a lie?"
// roland
05/17/2020
“You ain’t doin’ nothin’ to help yourself right now,” Roland explained, voice less harsh than it should be. He could tell Jack’s patience was running thin. Finally, he tears his gaze from Cole, and meets his friends gaze. “No, the fuck I am not!” He spat out, feeling torn in two different directions, but a small peek at the witch they’d captured and Ro made up his mind. He pulled out his pocket knife, a fancier one, a gift from his dad, and flipped it open. Breathing in deep, Roland shut down the last of his humanity, and turned to Cole once more; but this time? The last bit of softness that he had held onto while looking at her was now hard and unfeeling. He got down on a knee so their eyes were level, and held the blade up under her chin. “You are a witch. Dunno how. Don’t care. You are here, and you will tell us everything.... or you won’t, and I’ll make you tell me.”
// cole
05/17/2020
It was the first time that Cole had feared the hunters - not for what the other girls thought they were, but that they'd fooled even her. After all, it was the same boy she'd slept beside not even 24 hours prior who held his blade to her throat. Cole's nostrils flared with controlled breaths. "I think you guys have taken the whole witchcraft festival too seriously. But go on," this time she stared directly at Roland, spoke in the same seductive tones she'd whispered to him in before. "Slit my throat. See how far that gets you."
// jack
05/17/2020
Finally, they were moving how Jack thought they always should. He'd started approaching Ro from behind, back up in the most literal sense. "You heard her, Ro," he claps his hand onto Roland's shoulder and smiles. "The lady would like a demonstration. Be a fucking gentleman."
// roland
05/17/2020
It was the most fatherly thing that Jack could’ve done, and it made Roland feel like a kid again; his first successful hunt, shooting the buck... his first badge in Boy Scouts... everything he would do well, a clap on the shoulder. Roland nodded slowly, realizing at once Cole wasn’t going to cooperate and that they’d gone too far to give it up now. Roland reaches out, fingers brushing along her collarbone and across her chest, pushing her hair out of the way when he reached her other shoulder. “We already got to your friends. Marina, and Belen...” They’d be sending their warning shots too, their threats. “You told me yourself. I found your book. You’re one of THEM,” he finally spat out, moving the blade lower so it pressed into her collarbone. “Witch.” He said, officially, looking back at Jack once more for a final encouraging note of approval, and pressed the knife in to make the first letter; “W”.
// cole
05/18/2020
They weren't her friends - they were women she'd spent a handful of times in the same room with at best and yet, Cole froze at the mention of their names. They'd underestimated them, hadn't thought to recognize boys with easy smiles and drinking habits to be wolves in sheep's clothing. Now she snarled.
"You and your mommy issues can go. Fuck. Yourself." She punctuated the sentiment by spitting straight into Roland's face and braced herself for the pain. Despite everything, she knew he wouldn't kill her - but she hadn't expected torture either. The knife ripped through her skin and a pained noise, much like a wounded animal, left her lips. Cole struggled before he could strike again; the wound was deep and blood pooled along her skin, quickly staining her white shirt as she tried to jerk away.
// jack
05/18/2020
Jack's mouth thinned with aggression, letting loose a snarled and angry sound. "You're playing *real* fucking rich for someone in a piss poor situation. Thought I made it clear not to **talk to him like that**." He yelled the last of his words, coming behind Roland as he spoke to throw another splitting blow against the side of Cole's face. He's used his fist this time and his own knuckles were left hurting from the force. This would bruise her eye. Jack was sure.
"This can stop, girl. Whenever you wanna shut the hell up and tell us what we want." *Stop*, as Jack and Roland both knew, did not mean *release*, but it didn't take a genius to know being that obvious with murder wouldn't get you any answers. "Give us some names or Ro'll give you a nice pretty tattoo."
// roland
05/18/2020
She knew way too much, and Roland bristled at her comment - the less she had got to speak, the better, especially with Jack hovering right there. He backed up after she spat on him, taking his shirt off and wiping his face, figuring it was best to keep it off to avoid getting blood stains. Jack wasn’t kidding about work clothes. “What is Genevieve Ceoi’s connection to this?” Ro asked, coming closer again, trying a new approach. Once he got close, he paused to look at her, in worse a shape than he’d ever expected to find Cole. “Tell me who the others are you,” he said it quietly, as if a private conversation was taking place. “Remember what you said? Fuck everyone. Just tell me, now.”
// cole
05/18/2020
The blow was hard enough to make her see stars; Cole's head reared back from the force of it and when it lolled forward again, her face was bloody. She was dazed, the meaning of Roland's words delayed; it was the urgency in his tone that she latched onto. "Remember last time you looked like that?" In my bed. Cole turned her head away from him and wiped her mouth clean, smearing blood across her shoulder. She had no loyalty to Genevieve - it was her fault they were all in this fucking mess. "She's our ringleader. Coven Supreme, you could say." She could tell from the sudden stillness in the room that she'd won over their attention. "She's the one who - who orders us to collect Salem's babies so she can make potions from their bones."
// jack
05/18/2020
The hunter was sure to keep his eyes trained on the witch, smirking when she finally righted herself. "See, Ro. You're being too nice to the bitch," He'd moved back to admire his work, giving Roland room to do the same. Now he stepped closer, not wanting to give the two and their strange connection any room. If Roland was hexed, as Jack suspected, the witch could call him at any time. "What's she really want you all to do? What's the fucking goal?"
// roland
05/18/2020
It felt like ice that suddenly ran through Roland's veins when she confirmed the suspicions the hunters had about the historian. Mason had been right, it seemed. Ro clenched a fist, for a moment forgetting that the women they held captive was human at all; simply an enemy, and the angry glint of his eyes and his snarled lip, pulled back from perfect teeth, showed that disconnection between Cole, the girl... and Cole, the sorcerer. "She's bullshittin'," Ro stated with a pissed off tone, wiping the knife's blade on his jeans as he stepped in close to Cole once more, preparing the blade to make another cut if needed. The tip just slightly pressed in, enough to puncture, and he held it still under her collarbone beside the wobbly W he'd already given her. "No... more... lies," Roland instructed her, voice calm but pure chaos in his expression. His words were unciated with the blade being pulled downwards, lighter this time, but still leaving a line, taking the shape of an "I" for witch. "Tell me how you got magic, how Genevieve got magic, and what the fuck it is y'all are plannin'. Trust me, Cole -" Ro winced when he said her name, thankful his back was to Jack. He leaned in, whsipering low. "You don't want me to let him take over. You do not."
// cole
05/18/2020
From her fleeting interaction with Jack, it was clear to see the man had anger issues and was desperate for an outlet. It was Roland's face that terrified her, devoid of the emotion she'd been privy to before, replaced by a glittering madness that burned behind his eyes. She grit her teeth as he tore through her skin again. It was difficult glaring at him through her one good eye, but Cole managed. "Trust you? You're fucking psycho." She pulled at the rope restraining her wrists behind her back but the knots were tight. "Fuck it - you really wanna know? Then I can't tell you. I need to show you." It was adrenaline coursing through her veins, helping her to think more clearly despite the splitting pain blossoming from where her head had cracked against the wall. "I'll show you what she made us do."
// jack
05/18/2020
That surprised him, sure that Roland was unable to see past the witch. A new anger started burning at the thought he'd been duped by this girl, even for a second. "I knew you had a fucking death wish," Jack's voice was low, a threat merely in the tone. "Didn't think you were this stupid." He'd walked to the other side of Cole, prepared to hold her still as Ro continued his carving. "You think he's carving you for dramatics?" Now behind her, Jack's taunts grow hard, gripping her with tight calloused fingers. "We don't need a demonstration, bitch. Whole world's gonna know who you are." He nods Roland to continue, smirking.
// roland
05/18/2020
I’ll show you. It gave Ro pause, frozen in place, losing some of the wild look in his icy blue eyes. His whole life, the focus had been on being a Bishop; strong and proud, unstoppable. But... there was Bancroft in him, too, sorely unnoticed. Suddenly he was hit with curiosity, and he reached out a hand to stop Jack from getting too rough just yet. “Hold- hold on...” he muttered, glaring hard at Cole as he tried to figure out her angle. Was there a way to control her AS she did magic? And... why hadn’t she done any yet? Now, he glanced around the room, as if just now realizing she could be just holding back. They had no idea what these witches were capable of... and as curious as Roland was, his fear only took seconds to win over the hunger for more knowledge. By now, his heart was racing, a massive pull within him causing pure chaos in his mind. Her promise of a demonstration, her pained expression, blood soaked t-shirt, and Roland felt like he was losing his grip on reality. “Bitch!” He finally cursed, shaking his head, hair falling directly into his eyes as he all but lunged at her- Jack’s grip on her keeping her still enough so he could quickly- messy, far less calculated and perfect as earlier - add the rest of the word. witch. “If you had anythin’ WORTH showin’, you’d ‘a done it by now, wouldn’t you?” He hissed out, air coming out in a gush as he backed up, exhausted from his own overwhelming burst of emotion. The results were written across her chest in haphazard, uneven letter strokes.
// cole
05/18/2020
It had almost worked. Cole had seen the humanity flicker back into Roland's eyes, but it vanished just as swiftly as it had appeared. Then the knife was back in his hand and - searing pain, gouging deeper in his haste, her sobs curdled as she struggled and begged for him to stop. Cole felt the blade curve just above her breast to form the letter 'C' and, retching, she promptly emptied the contents of her stomach by their feet. Even once he was finished the trembling didn't stop; if anything it grew wilder, her slight frame vibrating in Jack's hands.
Then, complete stillness.
"Rooooo - land." Despite her bent head, the voice that called to him was strident, sing-songy and buoyant. Most crucially, it did not belong to Cole. "Where are you hiding?" The voice chuckled and in Jack's palms, Cole's shoulders shook along with the sound. "Are you being good?" Only then did the girl look up. White light poured out from her eyes and focused on his face.
// jack
05/18/2020
In the same moment that Cole went still, a shiver ran up Jack's spine. It's distinct, the way the hairs on his arm stood to attention. He felt the room grow colder- the moment truly turning his bloody fantasies to a reality he'd always anticipated but never known. Magic was real. Instincts wanted him to let go of the girl but Jack held firm, tighter even, his fingertips dug into her shoulder in ways that would surely leave marks.
"Ro..." The word was as much a warning as a question and Jack looked at his friend for answers he was unsure he'd receive.
// roland
05/18/2020
The heart that had once been racing now stopped entirely, skipping a beat, and every bit of color drained from Roland’s face the moment Cole made the first sound. He knew that voice; it was impossible not to know that voice. He was rooted to the spot, shocked and more terrified than he’d ever felt before, not even realizing when the knife fell and hit the ground with a metallic twang. “M-m.. mom,” Ro breathed out, voice pinched and scared and strange, the only word he could get out in response to Jack’s question. His heart kicked back into overdrive, and he began to shake, quivering hand going up to grab his hair as he took another step backwards from Cole. “Mom?!” Another step back, and he hit the wall, pressing into it with his back. “Stop that! Stop it! Stop!”
// cole
05/19/2020
The spirit inhabiting Cole's body - his mother or whatever it was - cocked the witch's head. She glanced down at the gaping wounds and clucked her tongue. "Oh Roly, what have you done?" There was a hitch in her breath; she curved her shoulders in towards her body and a fresh rivulet of blood spurted down her chest. "My sweet, sweet boy... this isn't you." The voice trembled and when the spirit lifted Cole's head, there were tears sliding down her bruised and battered cheeks. Even as the sobs grew more distraught, Cole's expression remained blank. "They've poisoned your mind. Stay kind, my love. Remember the stories I used to tell you."
// jack
05/19/2020
He'd never known Roland's mother but it didn't take much to understand what was happening . The ghost that spoke through Cole's lips was obvious, so far from the woman he'd punched moments before. As Roland scrambled away, Jack let go of the girl and stepped backwards, his words almost a growl. "Stop this now, witch." It seemed the only one here.
// cole
05/19/2020
Her head snapped towards the other hunter with unnatural speed, mouth curling into a sneer. "Speak up, boy, if you have something to say. I won't hold my breath." The wrongness was amplified when she spoke, the smoker's drawl of a man thrice her age. "You think this will make you any better than your lush of a father? He's a waste of space - and you?" She threw her head back with a hearty laugh. "Mark my words, he'll die an embarrassment and as will you, boy. You've smeared our name into the dirt and the dirt is where you both belong."
// roland
05/19/2020
Though relieved when the ghost inhabiting Cole's body switched attention from him, and changed it's voice, Roland still shake the horror. Logic spun rapidly in his mind, trying to explain it away, but there was no use; no one but his mom had ever called him Roly Poly, and there was no way Cole or Jack could've known that. The pain in Cole's voice when she spoke as his mother had broken Roland's heart, and before he realized it, tears clouded his vision and he was rolling his body to the side as he retched, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor.
// jack
05/19/ 2020
All too swiftly their plans were falling apart, he saw it in Roland as this phantom mother called to him. In truth, it was the voice of his Abuelo, mocking him, that turned the tides. He felt his blood run hot and suddenly he was lunging across the room, nearly slipping in the accumulated excrement's as he did.
"I've had ENOUGH of you!" It was deep and anguished and nearly inhuman. His fist was reared high, smashing Cole hard enough to pop a tooth from her lips. It wasn't enough, not with that fuckers voice haunting his mind. Jack was a mess of fists, pounding until he was ripped off the girl, his rage broken with bloody knuckles.
// roland
05/19/2020
Ro wasn't a stranger to blood; he was accident prone, and a hunter of wildlife, and a boy scout. But when his vision cleared of tears as he blinked hard, his mother's words still carving his heart into pieces, and Roland caught sight of Jack's unhinged attack on the witch... even he, in his madness, felt himself grow sick once more. Swallowing down his bile, Ro pushed off the wall shakily, grabbing Jack's arm as he rose and yanking him away, both hands now clapsing his shoulders. "Take a walk!" He growled, voice husky and raw from his shouts earlier. "Get yourself cleaned up. Take a shower, 'n fuckin'- just fuckin'-" Ro figured he should, too, his knees so weak and his stomach churning due to the metallic smell of blood in the air. "We got time. Take a break, man. Before she does somethin' else fucked up."
// cole
05/19/2020
Jack's savage attack had worked - their ghosts were gone, leaving no trace of their presence behind. Instead, all that remained was Cole's beaten and unconscious body, still bound to the chair which had tipped onto the floor from the blows. Her face was swollen and bruised beyond recognition. And the air was thick with blood, enough that there were footprints from where Jack had stepped away.
// jack
05/19/2020
He'd lost something in the midst of the swings - lost himself honestly. When Ro pulled him away, when he looked at the beaten witch, even he was surprised. It takes him a long while to respond. Even then its only a grunted "Yeah." He turns, halfway to leave. "Don't let her go," he warns, then leaves to clear his head.
zelenia couldn’t help the ROLL of her eyes as he went on about her appearance, NOR could she help the visible expression of DISGUST written across her face as he spit on the concrete beneath them. “ah now see,THAT’S where you’re wrong,” she told him, “it does cost more then your outfit, probably more then you’re even WORTH,” the beauty started, “but i can lose it, because i can BUY another. i can buy ten. i could buy a new set of TEETH if i fucking pleased should they have gotten knocked out, but men fight in a much more savage way then women, wouldn’t you say? so obviously that won’t happen.” as zelenia crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her body weight, she then nodded her head along to his words, however, in agreement. “you’re right. i don’t know that, but hey – you play with the cards you’ve been DEALT.”
“You’re not wrong their, I’m worth fucking shit.” There’s a snarl as his words bite back, "But I know what it’s like to have nothing. You think you’re willing to lose shit but that’s just cause you have cash.” He shakes his head once, scoffing, then spitting again on the ground - this time meant to rustle her privileged feathers. "That ain’t real loss, sweet heart. That’s fucking luck.” He waves her off, feeliNg complete in fighting only to find himself swaying, hard. “ You’re...right...” his tone is angry but he stumbles over the intensity of his words, clutching his head and almost tripping to a sit. “Men do hi-hit harder. Fuck,” he’s distracted by the ache and wonders when he got whacked in the head.
Maia bit her lip, true it was hurting her but she didn’t…well she didn’t want to put anything out anyway but Maia was wary of the thought of this guy carrying her. It made her feel vulnerable in a way that she didn’t like. Saying ‘No’ felt like the obvious thing but Maia’s backbone was still not strong yet so she wavered and said quietly, “Ok,”
He smiles, leaning down some before lifting the thin girl up. It’s an awkward thing to do with a stranger, having a girl in your arms while walking through a crowded festival, and Jack’s bad at making anything less awkward. “Uh.....so... you got any hobbies? Or um.....watcha do when you’re not tripping...”
“what is THAT supposed to mean?” the blonde asked with a scoff, though she knew exactly what he meant. the blonde hair, expensive clothes – she was NOT the type to get into bar fights at all. “i just fucking told you, the SAME god damn reason you did.” zelenia THOUGHT she had been pretty clear on that. his confused expression was worth it, though. “girls like me are the BEST at bar fights, we don’t have anything to lose.” all she got from the fight? FREE PUBLICITY. and a record, of course, but hey – who cares about that when you’re rich?
“Mean’s you’re tiny and blonde and...I’m guessing ninety pounds soaking wet. So, you ain’t got no business getting in fucking fights. Though, suppose if you were fighting a woman you weren’t coming away with a broken nose.” He wonders if it’s different wherever she’s from, his brain pin-ponging slowly on the info she’s given him. “See, that’s what I mean!” He’s yelling back now, pointing at the blonde. “You’d only say that shit if you never had your fucking teeth knocked out.” Making his point, he spits a bloody wad of saliva onto the ground.
“I doubt you got nothing to lose,” he continues and his eyes aren’t looking at her anymore. When he nods towards her outfit, it’s downcast. “That jewelry you’re wearing costs more than my entire outfit, I’d bet. In fact-” He leans up, a curl hanging in cold eyes, “I’d bet you’ve never known what it’s like to have nothin.”
Maia smiled but there was something in it that didn’t quite reach her eyes, perhaps it was the way that he was setting her on edge. Maia wasn’t great with men in general but it wasn’t that sort of feeling, still. “No, it’s fine,” Maia said quickly, leaning against him. She was slight enough that she was sure that it wouldn’t be much of a weight at all. “I can hop I’m pretty sure,”
It didn’t take much to tell the girl wasn’t going to be able to put much pressure on the ankle. “Don’t think it is,” he contradicts. It’s aggravating that thing nagging at his brain. He should let the damn girl hobble home but his instincts scream otherwise. “Listen, I’ll carry ya if you don’t mind. Probs easier.” He says, as if his lips are working against his mind.
he was obviously still PISSED about the fight. while zelenia had started to leave in the middle of it, she HAD heard how it started. it played out like deja vu and she didn’t want to be there to see how it had ended. “actually, i don’t. how rude of you to ASSUME so.” she told the drunken stranger with a roll of her eyes. “before i moved here, i got ARRESTED at a bar in greece for starting a fight because some bitch decided to talk shit about my parents.” the blonde told him, crossing her arms over her chest. “so believe me, i get it. CURB your fucking attitude.” WHY was she telling him this? well, it was relevant. zelenia didn’t hide her past, it just never came up in conversation with the other witches.
One look and he knows this girl doesn’t belong here. This is the wrong side of Salem and she’s far too blonde and boujee to be here on purpose. You must be lost, he’s about to accuse but the words are lost to his drunken handicap and he’s forced to listen instead. He doesn’t want to- she’s fucking yelling at him after all! - but he does.
“You...ya...what?” Maybe if he was sober he could have concoted something smoother. Instead he’s left staring at her, brows twisted with his lips in a half snarl. “What the fuck is a girl like you getting in bar brawls for?”
