Unbreakable

Sinclair Meas - Thirty Five - Hunter

[meas-sinclair]

petravery:

“So, I take you’re not originally from here, right?” Petra replied, with her eyes still on the art in front of her while her words were directed at the other woman. Pondering the question inside her mind before voicing it out to the other woman, “which makes me curious why would you stay here, in this small town when you’ve been everywhere else…”  Petra’s action right after was a shrug.

Finally, her dark eyes moved to meet the girl’s once she had a question to Petra. “I live here. I’ve been here for a little bit more than a year. Why?” Raising an eyebrow, her attention was constantly between the woman’s heartbeat and what happened in their surroundings. 

She couldn’t trust anyone that wasn’t part of her pack of the coven she was allied with and this wouldn’t be the first she would talk to someone without giving him as much as information as they could have about her. She’s always demanding information from others, but she never gave that in return.

“What gives it away?” Sinclair asked, letting her natural French accent intone more heavily on her words than it usually did, an amused smile touching her lips. “No, I lived in France for most of my life, actually.” She would not reveal her birthplace to this stranger. Giving anyone that information could lead people to discover the remainders of her family and use that knowledge against her. 

“Sometimes a girl needs a break from the cities and travelling,” Sinclair shrugged. “Moon Island is peaceful enough for me. It is very... unique, also, don’t you think?” She wondered if this woman knew Helena, if they were close. Even if they were, she doubted Helena would divest her secret to this woman if she hadn’t even told her family of her true purpose on this island. 

The defensive question Sinclair received in response to her query gave her a burst of satisfaction, which she concealed well. “Just a question,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand in the air. “I have not seen you around before, that is all.” This woman seemed to be mistrustful of strangers, not unlike Sinclair herself. She respected that, in a way, but it didn’t make her task of gathering information on all the townsfolk any easier. 

“I have lived here for a few months now,” she divulged, watching the other woman’s reaction to the information. Then she sighed, playing a part which she hoped would garner some sympathy from her current companion. “Yet I have made no friends on the island. I live a very lonely life here. I wish I could return home, honestly, but I have little money left, and no job.” 

[meas-sinclair]

petravery:

Petra needed a moment to herself, after finally getting back to her routine. She had to get rid off those images of her alpha being able to control her. After a whole year, he still, somehow, was the kind of werewolf she’d look up to. Despite the fact he had left her to die, part of herself still wanted his approval, to be part of his pack and that was something she couldn’t accept. Because, in her point of view, it meant that she was weak. Too. Weak.

With a day off from work, Petra was trying her best to keep herself calm while focusing in a peaceful state for her own body. Training in the morning, aiming for some yoga after lunch, watching as time was still something she’d have throughout the day, while it wasn’t her usual choice for entertainment, after everything she had done for her body, she chose something for her mind: the museum.

While walking around, she would keep her eyes on the images in front of her, especially the smell that would come from every painting. Different, giving to the werewolf each painting’s age by their own scent. She was mesmerized by art, giving herself time to relax when her attention was brought back by someone’s voice. Thinking about the woman’s words for a second, Petra nodded. “I don’t know much about art, but it’s indeed mesmerizing. It takes someone incredibly talent to do something like that… the control, the patience.” Maybe painting could also be a great skill to be developed in order to become an even better fighter. The thought instantly crossed Petra’s mind. “Are you… an artist?”

“I am not, no,” Sinclair replied, turning to see an unfamiliar woman observing the painting too. She lean, but strong, Sinclair observed, a fighter of some kind, maybe. Or just someone who enjoyed a workout. This island, the eclipse, it was making her question people and their motives more than usual, she thought. 

“I have seen many paintings, though,” she continued, always keeping one eye on the other woman or her shadow. “There are many galleries across the world that I have visited, many beautiful paintings within them.” She let her gaze wander over the brushstrokes once again, remembering the first time she visited a gallery in France, each painting a story contained in a single canvas. 

Sinclair took in the woman’s features once again, finding a trace of familiarity. Maybe they had passed in the street, or stood beside one another in line at the store. “You live here, yes?” Sinclair asked, prepared to add another name to her mental roster of potential supernatural beings. 

[thelovejournals]

One day, you realise that there are some people you’ll never see again. At least, not in the same way.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You  (via wordsnquotes)

[meas-sinclair]

constancehwang:

It was easier to breathe once the sun’s presence was back in the sky. The appearance of her parents hadn’t reappeared since the eclipse had ended, and it was enough for her to cry once again, but this time in relief. What Constance hadn’t expected was for her to feel more alone now that she wasn’t seeing hallucinations of her parents any longer. As much as those days in the dark were, it had been her only way of seeing her parents, real or not, in over fifteen years. 

But now things were back to normal, or as normal as she could make it feel after those past couple of days. She had stuck to her routine like glue; it was the only thing that helped her feel like she hadn’t lost control of her life once more, but she wasn’t sure how well she was doing. 

Walking around the museum nearly left her with a calm she hadn’t felt in the past week, but she couldn’t help but glance around once in a while as if she’d still see her parents appear to taunt and torment her. It was a nasty habit Constance was sure would be difficult to shake for a while, but the only upside was that she was much more alert when it came to her surroundings. It was how she came to notice Sinclair standing in front of one of the art pieces. 

As she stepped towards her, Constance glanced at the piece Sinclair was looking at. Her brows furrowed at the subject matter, wondering why she’d be enraptured by something like it, but then again, it wasn’t her place to judge what people liked when it came to art. The other woman’s voice caught her by surprise, apparently she wasn’t the only one aware of their surroundings, but there was some comfort in speaking to someone after the eclipse. Constance paused before answering. “It’s certainly something… But you are right about the detail the artist put into their work. It must’ve taken a lot of care to do all of this and to get the image they wanted on the canvas.” 

The answering voice was familiar that echoed through the cavernous room. Sinclair turned to see Constance looking at the painting she had previously been observing, seemingly a little startled. “Someone has worked hard to preserve it as well, it seems,” she replied as her eyes went back to the painting. “It is not often that paintings this old and large are so well maintained.” Sinclair’s eyes fell on the subtle hints of abnormalities within the paintings, morsels of the supernatural world placed into places most eyes weren’t drawn. She wondered if Constance’s eyes would be drawn to the shadows of the painting that hid the secrets of this town, or whether she would only see the surface of what existed. 

“Did you enjoy the eclipse?” Sinclair asked, almost certain that few people had thrived off what the eclipse had brought to the town along with the darkness. “I heard there was some trouble, and most people stayed indoors due to...certain disturbances.” Her eyes followed Constance’s expression, trying to detect any sign of what the other woman might be hiding. There was something there that she was keeping to herself, but Sinclair had no idea what it might be. 

[wordsnquotes]

But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.

Junot Díaz, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (via wordsnquotes)

[meas-sinclair]

lenavgardner:

She didn’t enjoy it, standing tall while Sinclair’s words would cut her like knife. She felt hurt by it, reminding Helena of her previous failures, especially when Spencer died, when they did nothing and her brother died. What would happen next? Who would have to die because everyone else could only think about violence as the best weapon to be used?

“Stop.” She tried firstly. She just wanted Sinclair to stop talking. Helena just wanted to go back to the peaceful state she was usually in. However, it was impossible, when someone was trying to throw everyone’s failures on Helena’s back. “Have you ever thought about the fact that you do fall into that category? That you’re also someone who kills other’s kind? We’ve been through this before, Sinclair. You’re the one with hands covered in blood. And, yes. At first I was trying to think about the fact that you could have salvation, that you were a good person. Now, I think you’re just a monster. Like the one who killed my brother.”

The words were rispid, directed at Sinclair to hurt her just as much as she hurted Helena. And, Helena regretted her own act the moment the words were already out there. And then, she felt the cut, her other hand instantly reach the cut on her arm as the blood would paint her skin red. Again, getting hurt. “I’m not you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I’ll keep you far away from me if needed.” And by knowing the same spell she did to Jae-Sung, but still acknowledging the fact Sinclair was human and not a vampire, Helena didn’t use all of her power to throw Sinclair far from where she was standing. And once she had a good space between herself and the hunter, Helena whispered a few more words, building a wall between themselves. “Leave me alone… leave us all alone.”

You’re just a monster. But was she? Sinclair had been telling herself that she was salvation, the knight in shining armour who had come to protect innocent lives from supernatural cruelty, but Helena had made her doubt her morals. Twice now, she had to stop because of this witch. Monster. Maybe Helena was right, and Sinclair was a monster, but that was just an opinion, right? She could justify what she’d done, every heart she’d stopped, every life she’d ended. There was a reason for why she was killing, so that didn’t make her a monster to be feared... or did it? 

The blade hit the earth with a thud that echoed between the two of them in their silence. Sinclair had cut Helena, blood the same colour as her own trailing down Helena’s arm, soaking into her shirt. “Maybe-” Sinclair stopped herself. She couldn’t be branded a monster when that was how she’d thought of the witches who’d raised her. They’d killed innocent people, her parents. She’d killed murderers. That was justice. “No, I am not a monster, Helena,” Sinclair said with conviction. “I may have blood on my hands, but those- those people I killed, they were killers too.” Probably, she told herself as an afterthought before casting it away. The people she’d killed were murderers. They were the monsters, not her. 

She had to get away from Helena. Every word that came out of the witch’s mouth made her doubt things that she’d told herself were facts for most of her life. “Stay away from me,” she said. “Just- don’t talk to me.” And with that, she snatched up her blade and went, the edge lined with Helena’s blood. Sinclair would scrub that blood off the blade as hard as she could, continuing until the blade shined like the glimpse of the sun from behind the dark moon. 

[meas-sinclair]

The island had grown quieter since the moon had freed the sun from its shadow. It was a relief, Sinclair thought, to be free of the presence of the people who raised her and those that she’d killed. Part of her wondered if they were real, but a larger part of her knew they were apparitions, born of the darkness to taunt her and everyone else who inhabited this cursed island. 

The image before her seemed more relevant now than every before. The painting on the museum wall depicted a war, but not one involving swords or guns. No, this was a war of the elements, the beings she’d sworn to kill. To an outsider, the knives possessed by some would seem normal, the fires burning nothing out of the ordinary on a battlefield. Sinclair knew otherwise; that the knives were possessed for their silver to fight the wolves with gaping jaws filled with razor teeth, and the fires belonged to the men and women who could wield it. 

She had thought she was alone as she sat on the bench and watched the chaos of the past, but there were footsteps. However quiet this person was trying to be, Sinclair could hear the scuff of their shoes on the stone floor as they approached. “It is a rather incredible piece, isn’t it?” She said, eyes not leaving the brushstrokes made all those years ago. “So much detail in each face, in each weapon, don’t you think?” 

[meas-sinclair]

lenavgardner:

Helena could feel her heart beating while her eyes would stare at the dagger, fear was filling up her being, uncertain as to why she would accept this situation once again. Because you’re weak, you don’t want to hurt othes but they end up hurting everyone you care about, like Spencer. Her father’s voice echoed, it felt as if he was inside of her mind, but he was right in front of her. For a second, Sinclair was Dominic, until he was no longer there. “What are you talking about? Who are they?” Helena wanted to look around, to see at whom Sinclair was pointing her dagger, but the minor movement could change that situation Helena was in drastically. 

“There’s something wrong, Sinclair. There’s something strange happening… I’m not causing you any harm, I’m not associated with whoever killed your parents,” she hoped. Helena tried to get to know everyone in her coven, but what if they had a murderer inside of it? What if they banned the Green family from the coven but there was still another dangerous one inside of it?

While Sinclair’s threats would reach Helena’s ears, the witch tried her best not to cry. She couldn’t succumb to the woman’s game and eventually be vulnerable. She was weak, she was tired, she wanted to give up and allow Sinclair to do her job. But, deep down, Helena knew that her siblings had suffered enough these past few months and she couldn’t be another loss to the family. At least not while she could still do something about it. Hope. She had to have hope.

“I’m not hiding anyone, Sinclair. Believe me. I don’t know those witches who killed your parents, I’ve never seen them before. I promise you.” And then she felt, hands resting on her lips while the proximity of someone resting their head on her shoulder almost made her jump. It was Charles, she knew that scent, that voice, she had been around him for longer than she should. You’ve believed this woman once, do you think she’ll spare your life again? Will you allow her to play with you like I did? Are you that… naive, Helena? She sighed. If Sinclair hadn’t acknowledged Charles’ presence, then there was definitely something happening there. But the biggest question inside of Helena’s mind, wasn’t what was happening with herself, but if that version of Charles was right.

Should she trust Sinclair? Or should she ignore any attempt for peace and attack her? “You can’t hurt my family.”

“There’s always something strange going on here, Helena,” she hissed, scraping through the first layer of clothing with her freshly sharpened blade. “Always someone strange, unnatural, creeping around and killing and killing. You might not have murdered yourself, but by facilitating the murders,” Sinclair shook her head and pursed her lips together for a moment. “You become their accomplice, Helena. You become a part of their crime, their wicked ways, the stain upon the world that shouldn’t exist.”

Sinclair cut skin, watching the red blood bubble to the witch’s skin from the tiny scratch she’d made. “This is why I kill your kind,” she continued, taking a step back to let Helena feel the pain of the cut. “Because even if you are not the murderers, you are the accomplices. Every single one of you. You see what happens because of your brethren, and you stand by and watch. You allow evil to come forth into this world, and thus associate yourselves with evil, you become the evil whether you like it or not.” 

A laugh left her lips at Helena’s stand for her family. “You think you could stop me?” She laughed again and lunged forward to slash at Helena’s arm, hoping to leave a slice deep enough to hurt, but not to harm. 

[meas-sinclair]

cleosprague:

Cloe taunted her still, daring to pull out a blade as she mocked her. “You are supposed to be dead, so why don’t we get on with it?” It was a moment of clarity as Cleo realized her sister truly had no idea what she was getting herself into. The sheer stupidity of her sister’s ignorance was enough to elicit a sharp laugh from the younger’s lips.

“You want to kill me, with that?” She eyed the metal blade as if it were a toy. By the time Cloe managed to move an inch, she’d have her by her throat against the ground.

“Leave me alone.“ Her voice was stone cold, eyes narrowing into Cloe’s movements.

Sinclair blinked, and it was the stranger once again. Her blade was out in front of her still, poised for a fight. She would have put it away if it weren’t for the look in the other woman’s eyes, empty of any warmth that they might have held before. 

“Only if you walk the other way,” Sinclair said, unsure of exactly who, and what, she was up against here. She could harm a wolf with the silver her blade was forged from, but a vampire would have no trouble facing the metal. She couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to leave her apartment without a stake sheathed at her side. Maybe the lack of vampires showing themselves as a threat on this island had made the species slip into the recesses of her mind. 

[meas-sinclair]

lenavgardner:

Helena should’ve known that her peace with Sinclair wouldn’t last longer than, well, than the time they had until they met each other again. Her eyes widened the moment the hunter’s tone changed, her heart was beating faster and confusion was what Helena felt while the woman’s words would reach her ears. “Sinclair… what– what are you talking about?” Maybe she was wrong to take so long to let both Cassidy and Leon aware of Sinclair’s nature, that she was in town as a hunter, searching for supernatural beings and finding a way to end their lives. It was the wisest thing to do.

And yet, you haven’t done the right thing. Again. How many times can you make a mistake before you’re the one who’s going to die? She heard the voice she knew so well. Charles, her eyes couldn’t move away from the dagger in front of her body. But she knew that voice and she hoped that, in a way, Charles would be able to move Sinclair attention to him. But he didn’t. And while she tried to think if he would act and save her or if he was there only to mock about the fact his fake friend was about to die. Helena focused on Sinclair words, looking to the right, the place the dagger was pointing at, only to see nothing but the streets. “Who?” Helena was scared, uncertain of what was happening around them.

If Sinclair hadn’t said the word ‘her’, Helena would assume that maybe Sinclair was talking about Charles. And while her head was trying to find a way out of that situation and her heart was pounding as she knew that she wouldn’t have a second chance to get out of this alive without a fight, she wondered where he was. Why he decided to share a few words about her situation only to disappear. In fact, everyone seemed to be disappearing lately. “There’s no one else here but us. I didn’t do anything. What are you talking about? Who is she?” 

Will you trust her like you’ve trusted me? It costed your brother’s life. Maybe you’ll lose another one through Sinclair’s hand. And then, she saw him, not too far from where Helena and Sinclair where standing, and close enough for Helena to hear him. He was indeed, enjoying the show. And she wondered why it didn’t matter at all to Sinclair, that some of Helena’s secrets were being spilled out loud for everyone to hear. “Stop it.” She whispered while her eyes still stared at Charles, the man with a grin on his lips, desiring for her to suffer. How could she think what they had was a meaningful friendship? How could she believe in him?

 Cleaning a tear that eventually streamed down her face, Helena looked up. “If you want to hurt me, do it. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t. I don’t like this situation… but this is the second time we’re going through this and if I have to fight, I will. Or I won’t fight you, because I’m so tired… Just please, don’t go after my family, okay? Leave them alone.”

“She was there!” Sinclair exclaimed, thrusting the point of her dagger at the space beside Helena. “You know where she is. You know what she did? Hmm?” The dagger turned back to Helena, a threat Sinclair hoped would get her information. “She killed my parents. Well,” her laugh was humorless. “Not alone. It was her and-” Another face appeared by Helena’s other side, seemingly out of the darkness the eclipse had created. “Him.” 

He was still as young as he’d been the last time Sinclair had seen him. Hair dark ebony, streaked by the faintest of silver hairs. Her dagger pivoted to point to Helena’s other side. “Oh, Helena,” she shook her head. “You say you can’t kill because of your morals, yet you associate yourself with some of the worst killers I’ve ever know.” Sinclair bared her teeth at the man, only to find that he was gone again. 

The dagger turned again, now closer, it’s point pressed to Helena’s chest. “So you cover for both of them now, do you?” She hissed, eyes boring into Helena’s. “You want to hide the witches that killed my parents, burned the house to the ground that I should have lived in, that was their home?” Her voice was low, almost calm, if it weren’t for the tremor of anger that ran through each word, an artery of lava close to erupting. 

“Oh, believe me,” Sinclair said, almost nose to nose with Helena now. “I want to kill you. I really do, but I want to kill them more. So, it is rather simple really. You tell me where you’re hiding both of them wretched beings, and I’ll leave you and your family alone to live out the rest of your lives on this cursed island. Understand?” 

[meas-sinclair]

cleosprague:

She held her hands up, but the smirk never faltered from Cloe’s lips as her eyes mocked her little sister. “Must’ve taken a wrong turn.”

“A wrong turn? Quit is Cloe how the fuck did you find me! How did you even know I was here— alive. I’m dead, as far as anyone is concerned I’m six feet under so why the fuck you here?”

“You don’t seem so happy to see me, lil’ sis.”

Cleo felt her gums ache in anger, the beginnings of a snarl in her throat. The questions buzzed around her. This was no hallucination, it couldn’t be. There was no way she was imagining the scent, the heart rate–everything screamed that Cloe was real and was standing right in front of her as if to torment her once again.

Sinclair paused for a moment, wondering how best to tackle the situation. This girl clearly saw her as someone called ‘Cloe’, a consequence of the eclipse no doubt. The moon had mysterious effects on the inhabitants of this island, and it didn’t discriminate between species, it seemed. 

A blink was all it took. The girl was different now, a few inches taller, cheekbones more prominent and hair arranged in rows upon rows of intricate braids. Sinclair’s eyes widened in shock. The face was one she’d seen many years ago, last lit by the flames the woman had ignited in her palms. The scar of the burn on her arm lingered in Sinclair’s memory, the memory of the pain causing it to ache.

“You...” Sinclair said, eyes wary of the woman she’d last seen dead, turned to ash by her own flames. “You can’t be here. You- You’re dead!” A knife was quickly in Sinclair’s hand, poised ready for a fight.

[cleosprague-blog]

@meas-sinclair timeline follows { found you, sis } self-para

Shaken by the possibility of her sister having found her on Moon Island, Cleo had quickly fled the boardwalk for the town center. It had to be a trick of the mind, some freaky shit going on with this darkness that hadn’t passed yet despite it being well over the duration expected. She would see Cloe again, standing amongst the crowd that seemed to be enthralled by her before her whispers would turn inaudible even for Cleo’s ears. And just like that, all eyes would turn to look at the vampire, ridiculing her with their gazes as if picking her apart like everyone in their circle used to do. She learned her lesson from the first incident at the beach, shutting her eyes tight before opening them to find her sister gone. “What the fuck.” the vampire mumbled, pushing her way past the crowd still whispering her name like venom.

It was silent passed the cemetery, and only then did she take a deep breath. The hunger now settled in the pit of her stomach, but she would abate it– she didn’t trust herself to feed now, not without killing whoever it was she fed on, and So-Young’s only rule hung above her head as her mind raced at the possibility of Cloe ever actually finding her again.

There was a crack of a twig behind suddenly which brought Cleo’s head snapping to the intruder who now invaded her space with their presence. But unlike her earlier sightings up her sister, she could smell and hear her heartbeat. Eyes fell on the girl and Cleo could feel her chest tighten with anger, confusion. This wasn’t possible.

She got to her feet, hands balled into fists at the one girl who she could never beat, no matter how hard she tried. “How the fuck did you find me??”

[meas-sinclair]

It hadn’t taken long for things on Moon Island to become insane once again. Sinclair had contemplated moving to Boston after her short stay in the city, but it was too dense, and harder to hunt supernaturals than it was on the island. The decision to come back had been easy, for she had much unfinished business, and potentially witches chasing her down after her true intentions had been revealed to Helena, but it seemed she was safe enough, for now. 

Sinclair had decided to take a jog around the island, taking unfamiliar paths to get to know where they led and who might be on them. This one, it seemed, led to the cemetery, a location she didn’t particularly admire, but found to be popular with certain supernaturals. It seemed empty, but that didn’t mean it was. Acting as naturally as possible, Sinclair continued her jog around the cemetery’s perimeter, letting a branch snap beneath her foot to potentially lure out anyone who might be around. It seemed her tactic had worked this time.

She slowed to a walk, and then to a stop as the woman snapped at her, her hands lifting up in a gesture of goodwill. “I was just out on a run,” Sinclair said, looking behind her, feigning confusion. “I must’ve taken a wrong turn from my usual route. I don’t usually pass the cemetery.” She tried a smile, but wondered if perhaps the eclipse was working its wicked ways on the woman who stood before her.

[meas-sinclair]

lenavgardner:

The woman’s words reached Helena, and with that, she tried her best to focus on Sinclair and only Sinclair, not this constant pull around her to move her attention elsewhere. In presences she felt it would be safer to ignore. “Who knows?” She sighed. “So far, not that I’m aware of. And hopefully it will continue this way despite the fact that Moon Island is dark and it could potentially bring consequences to our lives.” A story she had heard before when she was younger. One that would make her feel uneasy while trying to picture what it was like to go through the consequences of the moonlight during a solar eclipse. It was ironic to think that now she’d have the chance of getting to know it.

And then, her attention was indeed in the woman in front of her from the moment Sinclair reached closer, bursting the bubble that Helena was constantly living within. The woman’s choice of words were enough to make Helena aware that it was a good thing she hadn’t told anybody… yet. Because, she wouldn’t be lying to the hunter in front of her, and it gave Helena a chance of staying in good terms with Sinclair. Or she hoped it would. “Just you and me. Maybe I’m stupid for not saying a thing to anyone, but… yes. I haven’t said anything to anyone.”

Her light eyes remained at the woman’s dark ones, trying to read her, get any reactions coming from her. Before her eyes moved slightly to the side and she could swear she had seen a male figure, walking faster, walking towards Helena’s direction. But the moment she blinked, there was no one else there but herself and Sinclair. Shaking her head, she once again moved her gaze to Sinclair. A familiar face. Too familiar. “You’re safe. You won’t be a target.”

Sinclair looked up at the sky at Helena’s mention of darkness, having completely forgotten about the impending eclipse. She had encountered an eclipse once before in her life, and that had only been partial. The decision to stay away from anything and everything supernatural that day was one of the best decisions she’d made, for the moon covering the light of the sun had caused the deaths of several people. She had no escape now though. Moon Island was isolated, and had a larger population of supernatural beings than any other place Sinclair had visited before. She would have to be on guard more than ever before.

“Good,” Sinclair said, hoping that it would remain that way. She would have to conceal her true identity from as many people as possible if she were to continue hunting. “The fewer eyes on me the-” 

There was something behind Helena, more like someone. A familiar figure who gave her that smile that took her back to brighter days in France, and the worst days since. It reminded her of her failure to pull the trigger, to end a life that deserved to be ended. “You-” Sinclair seethed, pulling a dagger from her side, unnoticeable before. “Maybe you aren’t who you say you are, Helena.” Sinclair spat the witches name, her darkened glare moving to the apparition of her adopted mother that stood beside the witch she’d thought as moral, until now. “You associate yourself with murderers like her.” Sinclair thrust the tip of the dagger towards the space to the right of Helena, where there was now nothing to be seen. 

“You- Where did you go, you coward?!” Sinclair shouted, gaining a few stares from passers-by who were out watching the eclipse. Her stare shot back to Helena. “What did you do? How did you make her just- just disappear?”

[meas-sinclair]

constancehwang:

Constance had no plans to head back to her apartment once her shift ended, but she didn’t know what to do otherwise either. She thought about walking over to the library to see if there were any new selections or maybe stopping by the beach to draw, but she felt too restless to be in one place for too long at the moment. Unsure of what else to do, Constance took to wandering around town, hoping something would catch her interest and rid her of her restlessness. 

As she turned the corner near the cafe, she caught sight a familiar person. Constance raised her hand to wave, but realized Sinclair had her eyes on her phone rather than her surroundings. I could always just say hello, she thought. Quickening her steps to reach her, she was just short of noticing that Sinclair was about to run into someone exiting the cafe. “Oh, watch out,” she tried calling out, not close enough to grab the woman’s arm to pull her aside from the run-in. 

Constance’s voice registered in her mind just as hot coffee spilled over her and the unfortunate woman who exited the cafe. Sinclair made her apologies and offered the woman some money for another drink before turning to Constance. “Long time, no see,” Sinclair said, letting the cafe door swing shut as she slid her phone into her pocket. She sighed as she looked down at her wet shirt, picking the damp patches of material off her skin before looking to Constance.

Something about Constance had struck Sinclair as odd, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on what it was. Constance didn’t seem to be aware of the truths of the island, she seemed to innocent to know about the wars that went on under the cover of night and what the moon was capable of. She knew something, though. Of that Sinclair was certain. 

“How have you been?” She asked with a gentle smile, hoping to find some evidence of what she was hoping to find within Constance.

[meas-sinclair]

leonvg:

They don’t know the truth, do they? Not everyone in Moon Island knew the truth about the island… about how people went mysteriously missing, or how there were some inexplicable deaths. “They don’t.” He wanted to warn her that he’d like for things to continue that way, but his friends would be leaving soon and perhaps his request could be seen as a threat, so Leon kept quiet. “There’s beauty in ignorance, I suppose.” At least they didn’t have to worry about a war, choosing sides, people dying. They all lived far from Moon Island, they lived different lives. It was better this way. His blue hues averted towards the glass door, watching as his friends distanced themselves further and further from the café.

Sinclair’s question made Leon furrow his brows a little, but figured she had meant his near-death experience the month before. “No, no. I’ve made peace with life.” His hand flew to scratch the back of his neck as Leon let out a soft chuckle. “It was just an unfortunate accident. You’ll come to realize that full moons here usually take a toll on everyone…”

There was a beauty in ignorance, Sinclair knew. Images of childhood tried to burst forth from her memory, of warm pastries for breakfast and parents who loved her. But they were never her parents, and she would never love them, no matter what they did. They were monsters in her mind, always hiding in the shadows of her brightest memories. Sinclair wished her innocent childhood wasn’t so tainted by the falsity of it all, but there was no point wishing for what she could never have. She lifted a chin a little as she pushed the memories back into the box they belonged in and made herself stand a little straighter. She was stronger because of what she’d survived. “There is,” she agreed after an elongated pause. 

“It does seem that way,” Sinclair said, thinking back to the murders a couple of months ago. “I don’t believe in accidents, though. Not on that scale,” she continued. “No matter what the moon or stars are doing, the motive has to be there to kill in an incident like that, Leon.” Her eyes held his, watching his every expression as her tone became more serious. 

[meas-sinclair]

emmanuelxalpha:

Emmanuel gave a small smile, too tired from a restless night to be fully hospitable at the moment.  “I get that, I pretty much run on coffee myself.”  He brushed off some of the liquid from his shirt.  “Are you sure you’re alright?”  He wasn’t one to point fingers, especially at something so trivial as this so he didn’t want her to take responsibility.  He had recognized the woman vaguely, but he brushed it off as one of the newcomers visiting.  “No no, let me get it and yours too.  No harm no fowl.”

“I’m fine,” Sinclair said, maintaining a smile that she hoped would reassure the man in front of her. A little of the coffee had splashed onto her shirt too, but she wouldn’t mention it. The slight burn of it against her skin helped her stay alert. It reminded her that there were threats in the most mundane of places on this island.

“If you insist,” she relented and followed him back into the cafe. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” She said, watching him for any sign of recognition. “I’m Sinclair,” she added when she found no familiarity in his expression, and extended a hand in greeting. 

[meas-sinclair]

lenavgardner:

Helena smiled and nodded. In front of her, there was a reminder of something that hadn’t reached none of her siblings ears. Helena didn’t share with them about her encounter with Sinclair and that she knew now that the woman was a hunter. She knew that because she was almost another victim who would be murdered by Sinclair. A reminder that she should, at some point, share that with Cassidy.

It seemed that everyone who Helena would be around, eventually would become someone she should be wary of. Sadly, she couldn’t hold onto the idea of not trusting those around her. “Not the best, but also not the worst days of my life,” she replied with a light shrug, though the smile was still there. “It’s been slightly nicer than before, and it was a calm full moon which was surprisingly enough for me.” She replied as honest as possible, it didn’t share any information about her family, herself or coven, so it wouldn’t cause her any harm.

“I get the feeling.” While Helena hadn’t left town ever since trouble started to happen in town. She knew that through her twin brother, and now something that also happened to Sinclair. It was understandable. If she could, if she had reasons to do so, Helena would take some time for herself away from the island she loved. “And now, you’re back.” She hoped it was only because Sinclair had enjoyed Moon Island, but, deep down, Helena knew that it meant something else. It didn’t matter that their last encounter didn’t end with one of them being dead. Sinclair was still a hunter and Helena was still a witch. 

There was tension between the two of them, more evident than before she’d left town. Although they hadn’t met on civil terms since Helena had discovered Sinclair’s true motive for moving to the island. Maybe revealing her identity to one of the more moral witches in towns was the best move to make, she thought to herself. But Helena had connections, that was the only danger she faced at the moment.

“No more murders around town?” Sinclair asked, quirking an eyebrow. “They seemed to come pretty much every month since I’ve been here.” Her arms folded across her chest as she watched the witch closely. Helena wouldn’t do anything, she knew that now. If she wouldn’t act when provoked with the prospect of death, she wouldn’t do anything now in the middle of town. 

Sinclair’s lips quirked into a slight smile as she nodded. “And now I’m back.” She sighed before pursing her lips, taking in the movements of the people around them. There was no one nearby, so Sinclair leaned in closer to Helena, and asked what had been on her mind since she’d fled the island. “Who knows now?”