death / BLESSED

"Even victories can be cruel," she answers solemnly. Still kneeling, now he's tucked away the gun, she relaxes. Hands dropping into her lap, shoulders sagging. "If I tell you... you won't believe it. Will you? You'll always think I planted the thought." Looking up at him, pleadingly, hoping maybe this specific look would be familiar enough to him to spark some memory, "Do you remember my name, love?"

something about her just speaks to him. even suspicious of everything ( his own mind most of all ) he finds it difficult to keep that same critical eye on her. let it be a serpent. as far as he can remember, he doesn't have anything to lose. "you do know, then?" he asks, hard exterior beginning to soften. she's right—to a point. words alone won't be enough to sway him, but he'll at least hear her out. she's the only clue to his past that he has. "i don't even remember my own," he admits, frowning. santiago belongs to whoever was put in the hole he crawled out of. maybe that had been him, maybe not. it's all he has. had. all he had. "tell me what you know. after that, you'll come with me." no room for negotiation. he needs to make sure that she won't run off to a secret benefactor.

" gouache acrylic paint , the set of 102. delivered to me within 36 hours , since it's an overseas purchase. i'll have your commission completed by then. wether or not it's given to you , depends on my payments happening within their time frames. " it's the final demand he's got for santi , at least for this requested service. " i'll begin working on it. you know where to find me , come once you've got my payment. "

thirty-six hours is still not very much time, particularly as far as oversea shipments go. still, he can probably manage it. it's important. "fine. you'll receive it within that time. i expect to receive it then."

Serpent. Harsh words but the way he rests the gun against her cheek, crouches down close... She could turn her head and kiss the weapon. Zareth would've loved that. Patting her down she can't help but stare at him, hold her breath as she feels his warmth move closer, the familiar smell of him. Xio could kiss him, she'd have stolen a kiss if they were still together, if he still could recall his love's face. "Because we're..." Xio falters. An embarrassing shake of emotion. What if she tells him everything and it doesn't help? What if she tells him everything and he remembers but could never trust that memory again? "I love you and you love me, Z." It wasn't a common nickname but she wants to see if he recognizes it at all.

doubt is a wall he has yet to find a way around. xiomara, by all accounts, seems perfectly genuine. she has no weapons with which to attack him with—defend herself with, for that matter—and most importantly of all, no immediate reasons to lie. still, he finds himself doubtful. someone is responsible for ( what he assumes to be ) his death and has gone through great lengths to destroy his mind. he can't assume they'll stop there. but beyond doubt, santiago can't deny the spark of connection between them. how drawn he is. how perfect she seems. it could be a trick. magic. "if that's true, why are we separated now?" the gun sinks further out of sight, tucked into the back of his pants. "you must have some idea of what happened."

" by the week's end. if my payment fulfilled by this evening. anything after , i cannot assure. " both an opportunist and impatient , omi enjoys holding all the cards in his hands. if santiago wants a speedy commission , he'll have to work for it. " anything quicker , will be an additional fee. if it is something you're interested to hear. "

he knows well enough that specialty services cost specialty prices, but at a certain point... it starts to come across as disrespectful. attitude and extra fees? he'll be remembering this. "what extra price would that be, then? with your payment, i can't promise anything tonight. but i'm open to negotiations."

" porcelain clay. two twenty five pound blocks and the ultimate mixed media art set from KINGART. " without even missing a beat. top tier supplies like that are hard to come by in the piss poor excuse of an art shop. no need to go out and spend his coin , when he has such a willing patron. " leave your sketches and have my payment by tomorrow. "

it's a little irritating that the materials aren't relatively available, but santiago knows better than to argue. if that's the price, that's the price. he isn't in a position to bargain. "fine. i'll have someone bring it to you by nightfall tomorrow. when can i expect my commission?"

a hum is all that's given in response. physically , kiyoomi's there. mentally , well , is an entirely different subject matter ━━ which is surely obvious , in the way glazed eyes stare vacantly at the drawing. " what is that you will offer ? in return for bringing to life whatever that is. "

"appropriate payment." something hateful stirs within, but he bites his tongue before it's able to rear its ugly head. he knows better than to nurture his rage when it's not needed. but how does he know? "name your price."

" very specific , how. i have a basket worth of works to glaze and fire , as soon as this jar is filled. " interest is mainly gone now as his eyes drift back to the intricate folding of the decor paper. " it's important ? your commission ? can you not ask a different crafter ? one that is not as preoccupied , perhaps ? "

"your empty words mean nothing to me." santiago discards everything that doesn't immediately pertain to his goal. he needs the vessel crafted. that's all. handing over the drawing, he adds, "it's very important. more important than anything you've ever created. will you take the job? yes or no."

@kingcadaver

" you must be bored to be visiting at the store. or did you really like to learn making paper stars ? " blank eyes lift to stare vacantly at said visitor , though there's a hint of curiosity behind them. " did i forget something that you needed ? you didn't write it in my book so i can't be faulted. "

"i need something hand-made. it's very specific." he doesn't waste time in responding to whatever drivel spills from the poor drone's mouth. "i didn't think an email would do it justice. do you have time for a commission like that?"

Not even a flicker of recognition. Only a twitch on the trigger. Her eyes shine with tears she refuses to shed— Zareth was the only one she'd cry for. Only a Zareth that recognized her. Not this weak version of him. What you are? He made her exactly what she is, and he speaks as though it's something wrong.

Xio drops to her knees. Faced with the only person whose commands she'll listen to, she won't even twitch out of line. Xiomara can't help the tone. The disappointment. "Have you really forgotten me?"

santiago advances carefully, watching her every move. she's obedient. he likes that, but it doesn't quell his suspicions. not yet. "bite your tongue, serpent," he says, slowly bringing himself down to her level—a crouch, not a kneel. "i'll decide for myself whether you're worth listening to. until then, keep quiet." the gun rests against her cheek, almost pulsing in his hand. he wants to pull the trigger. not here. that would ruin her face. better to put it in her mouth. instead, he makes a show of patting her down—finding nothing only confuses him more. it's a dangerous city. why walk around unarmed? standing, he finally lowers the gun. "why do you expect me to remember you?"

Xio slowly raises her hands in defeat. She barely looks at the gun—it's a passing thought to play a game, let him kill her then bring her back, it is a beautiful night for the ritual. If only she saw recognition in his eyes.

She'd imagined this moment and she'd only watched with growing concern as Zareth went about such an ordinary life and this reunion grew more complicated. "I've been waiting for the... guts to come say hi." She smiles, lips closed, and slowly waves one of her hands. "Hi."

it's not exactly the answer he's been expecting. but then, what has he been expecting? just because he's been wiped clean doesn't mean his past has vanished into thin air. it's an educated guess that she must be related to his, somehow. but as easy as it would be for her to be an ally... she could have been trying to take advantage of his amnesia. he at least had kept the sense not to trust anything at face value. hi. his finger flexes on the trigger. "get on your knees. keep your hands up, though. if you move too quick, i'll put a bullet in your brain. doesn't matter what you are—that'll slow you down."

#c ;; xiomara #still in love w the matching urls

@queencadaver

"i'm not as blind as you think i am." she was good—almost good enough to fool his senses. almost. "just more patient." finally, he sets eyes on his little shadow. she's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. that only makes him squeeze the trigger. "you've been patient, too. what have you been waiting for?"

xiomara-de-paz

@kingcadaver

“and now?” not exactly the simple question he poses it as, all things considered. she hasn’t been back from the dead for very long, and it’s more likely ( judging by how she’s back and sniffing at her grave ) that she hasn’t figured out what to make of herself. well... maybe for more reasons than just how they’ve met, too. but that’s only natural. most people, whatever their beliefs, truly don’t seem to consider the idea of a life after death.

santiago notes the knee bumping against his own. through his own biased lens, he sees intrigue, if not outright interest. maybe not so biased—why else would she agree to get a drink with someone she had met in a graveyard? “now that he has no more power over you, what would you like to do, instead? or did you like these trashier places?”

Has no power over her. She laughs, abruptly. He still has that, doesn't he? Xio still finds herself thinking of him. Has stood across the street from their—his flat. Xio still knows his routines, of course. Awful at remembering it when they were together. Not now, though. “Now… now I wander into graveyards and let strange men take me out for drinks.” Leaning forward, chin in her hand, she smiles at Santiago. Avoiding an overtly honest answer, she’ll just try to find another guy to latch onto and follow his whims. “What do you like to do?

her laughter draws a brow upwards. is it disbelief, or had she simply not considered that idea? maybe it's a bit of both. they are, after all, intrinsically linked. dying has given her the chance to escape as much as it has to find herself—but it's still a choice. one that she has to actively make. santiago is confident that she will, but... it will take time. maybe even a long time. "but is that what you like, or just what you think you should do?" he presses, but gently. humorously. obviously, he doesn't have a problem with her decision-making here... this time. if she had done this with anyone else, it may have gone poorly. but isn't that just an argument for sticking closer, now? "i suppose i like to take strange women i meet in graveyards out to bars. but other than that, i like to create. art, music... it's a passion for me."

saintjcmes

Mutation as a gift. As if January could just snap her hands and make people mutants—she probably could but that’s no way to live a life, being indebted to someone because they made you who you are. She already saw that with Archie, and she wasn’t too keen on being forged in his likeness, whether intentionally or not. She wants to believe Santiago, but some days he’s no better than a rebel with the tongue of a snake-oil salesman.

“Don’t get me wrong, Quijada, Starcaller isn’t exactly on the top of my list,” she says, leaning forward a little. “But he does show restraint. In an all out war? Well, I don’t want to ask—but do you know how many people have combat-ready powers? Not just people who can shoot fire or fly?”

"he shouldn't be on your list at all. pendejo," he mutters a curse on his name, the only thing he has to say about starcaller and his private bubble. "he shows more than restraint. he shows inaction. he can speak to the heavens and back about how much he cares about our kind, but how is he preparing for conflict? he comes across his people by accident. in my work, there are no accidents." santiago pulls inward, throws a curtain back over his snarling hatred. this isn't the time or place to discuss it. "we are all combat ready. my first gift to them, their second chance, gives them the weapons they need if their second gift fails to contribute. i have been preparing for this conflict for my whole life." unlife, old life... whatever the case, he knows this conflict is inevitable. doesn't everyone? "you and i both know there is only one path forward. peace was never an option. starcaller may have no love in his heart for humankind, but he fails to understand that. you don't. i don't."

#c ;; january

𝐱𝐢𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚.

“Pretty much the only thing me and my b— me and my ex would do. Boring fucking lives.” She says it with a smile. Not at fond memories, but just because she’s sat across from this big, hot dude who’s, like, genuinely interested in her.

Xio breaks eye contact first, twisting a useless paper straw in her hands. Looking back up, she pauses. Santiago hasn’t budged an inch. Shuffling in her seat, she’s not too careful about bumping a bare knee against his. A girlish flirtation, a passing touch, because she never knows how to start things like this. “Definitely hung out at trashier places than you’d go too. He was in a band. A real shit one.”

“and now?” not exactly the simple question he poses it as, all things considered. she hasn’t been back from the dead for very long, and it’s more likely ( judging by how she’s back and sniffing at her grave ) that she hasn’t figured out what to make of herself. well... maybe for more reasons than just how they’ve met, too. but that’s only natural. most people, whatever their beliefs, truly don’t seem to consider the idea of a life after death.

santiago notes the knee bumping against his own. through his own biased lens, he sees intrigue, if not outright interest. maybe not so biased—why else would she agree to get a drink with someone she had met in a graveyard? “now that he has no more power over you, what would you like to do, instead? or did you like these trashier places?”