MEMENTO VIVERE

Reid Halstead (Previously) Night Security @ Tideview University

[reidhalstead]

𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚜 ; 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝・ 𝚠𝚌𝚜・ 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢・𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎・

[huntercam]

"Since New Year's." Sip here, as he tries not to think about the graves in his hometown left unattended. "It's never stopped." For a moment, he tries to decipher what's in between the lines of Reid's words. There's nothing he can pull from it - they've been apart for too long, and it's not as if being the man's fledgling gives him any insight to his mind.

He's patient, though. If Reid wants him to know, he'll say it. They can talk as friends, not as monsters.

First, blood. "I'm.. adjusting, yes. Some days are easier than others. I'm not.." There's a hesitation here as he searches his memory for the times that it was hard, the times he fucked up, and the others where he's found a way to cope. Holly was easy. The first few weeks were difficult, but control is something that Cameron prides himself on. There are routines and codes.

"It took some adjusting. I have urges, cravings, hunger, as I assume most of us do. But I have a system now." As for the rest, he takes a drink before continuing. "Port Leiry has been.. a standstill. Nothing new. Reports of strange happenings, but that's all. There's some clan talk around Pretorius, but there's no telling if that will go anywhere. It rarely does."

Reid would know: Cam is a recluse on most days. Meeting new people, getting out and getting involved - not his scene. He stays mostly in the gallery or in the club. It's not interesting to mention his new pupil, nor the strange girl following him around.

"I don't know that I would be the right person to ask about what you've missed. If you ask me, the city is burying itself and all of us in it. Maybe it'll stop. Maybe it won't." There's nothing to do but accept which way it goes. He allows silence to sit between them for a moment as he drinks down his glass and signals for a refill. He's not so crass as to compel the bartender for a glass of his blood - though he would like to remind Reid that it's alright to be who he is. A fledgling teaching a sire seems backwards, but it feels as though they've always had this dynamic: McCormick encouraging Halstead to become a darker version of himself.

"Why don't you start from the beginning? I'm patient, you know this."

[reidhalstead]

New Years. That's about the same time he'd blown back into town. He'd ruined their holiday, in his worry for his family. And if previous incidents, and arguments are any tell, Reid's going to stop celebrating big events throughout the year. Nothing fucking good ever happens on them. Going cold turkey on holidays — he's almost certain Anika would agree, if he wasn't so disappointed about not being able to rewrite the bad ones into something better.

Halstead thinks that if McCormick knew what caused the weather, he'd have said. So he doesn't ask anything more.

"A system?" Of course Cam does. A smirk, "Very you."

They share the same hungers, enough that they aren't battling for whose version is the most accurate. Cam could probably paint a scene of it, and capture some carnal instinct that Reid never could describe in words, or pictures. He'll just know that it is.

Reid swigs his drink, whilst his friend talks. Interest peaks at the mention of clans, as if he'd entirely ruled out the prospect that McCormick would have to navigate that; Reid never did, because his sire is a free agent, of carnage of chaos. Fuck if he's trying not to be that. "Clans? You're involved in those, McCormick?"

Judgement partly withheld, because what the fuck does Reid really know about them? Other than the one he got in the middle of, sucked.

He supposes the surprise of it all is that Cam's very fixed to his points; getting him out for a beer most nights had been dragging him by the arm, until it threatened to pop. He remembers plenty of instances where he'd worked the man down, and Cam had snuck off at the first sign of freedom back to his extracurriculars.

"Alright then I won't ask about the city." a light laugh, as he chalks down snow and monsters to magic, and hates it all the same. "I'll ask about you and yours. Anyone in the picture?" Because Reid's ready to tell Cam all about the woman upturning his undead life, and reshifting his morals, completely. "I never see you interested in much of that." What Reid's come to realise, is that his inner circle of companions (including the dead ones) didn't have the same experiences as him. Cam might have been all fancy with his ropes and whatever the hell he does behind those gallery dooes of his, but he's got a tracked-mind opinion on women, like his. "It's different... like this, right?" Dead. Being with someone who isn't. Has Cam? He doesn't know.

Cam has patience, sure. Reid's done the self-pity near-decade parade, too. But Cameron's not that. He's a man of embracement. Same way that he didn't curse Reid out so violently knowing he'd sired him. "I think being on the road reminded me how difficult it is to be, this, I guess, outside of somewhere you know." It's hard enough pretending in the city he'd known like the back of his hand. "Easier to see threats when you expect them around the corner." He doesn't know anywhere anymore, what with the snow and new creatures. Reid isn't a Saint, or a hero, that'll save it either. Finishing his beer, he asks for another, murmuring to Cam: "The beginning started with a lot of sunlight, blood, and cops. I don't know if you care to hear about that. Threats; every corner we went."

A beat, followed by another bad joke: "You might like to hear about the child sacrificing cult though." The new beer is sat in front of him. "Oh, and there's a cool gallery I visited called Mycellium there too, thought of you."

[devilsvenom]

"Touché, brother." She chuckles, zipping up her coat and taking another hit from her vape. It was the only thing rehab had allowed her to keep, so long as it was kept to strictly nicotine. The doppelganger wanted a good time, but the memories showed her enough; the casual use was not a good time, it was desperation. The good times came when she was out and indulging with others, or in others. Whilst it wanted to assume Annalise's life, the Doppel was making it a point to keep only the best parts, and not her failings.

Annalise glances over him, the glint of jewellery on his fingers and burn marks where, if she stretches to the back of her memories, she was sure the brother once had his hunters mark there.

"Worse for wear," she hums, reaching out to take Reid's hand, thumb smoothing over where the hunter mark once was, all that was left was a gnarly scar. "A child, a ring, and a burn where you mark was." There were no questions posed, just statements. His choices were his own, and she imagined the latter would not have been a decision taken lightly. From what she recalled, that mark was one of his few connections to his humanity, which had already been flickering through his broken switch. Maybe that was for the best; maybe if he had it switched all the way on, he would've seen through her already.

"Mm, one of us Halstead's had to do it eventually." Lis replies, a teasing smile on her features. If Reid was back here, it's because there was a cause for worry. She imagines it was the storm, the lack of contact; the downside to them being freed from the mirror world and taking up roots in the real.

She ponders for a moment on the answer, because realistically, aside from the loneliness, even before the Doppel came into her life, little Halstead had been doing good. Better.

"Five by five, brother. Taking each day as it comes, you know? But so far, on the wagon, attending therapy, and out of that house so I can't complain. Well, aside from the freak storm." Annalise shrugs, but it seems that all of the citizens had just learned to accept it, like a new normal. Of all the hits this city had taken, the Doppel imagined a snow storm, as bad as it was, was not the worst of it all. Weather could be dealt with, managed. "I suppose that's what happens when casual daily substance abuse is no longer your norm."

A pause, as she contemplates next words, trying to be as careful as ever. "I'm good. Lonely sometimes, but I'm good." She assures the brother, chewing on her options for next conversation points.

"You married or something?"

[reidhalstead]

Brother. That sounds fucking weird when he thinks about how Rose had greeted him; less sister, and more old, distant comrades. But he has to remember, she's a little different to when he'd left; rehab must have done a number on her, if she's chirpier than a canary, tonight. He won't let himself think it's actually because she's glad to see him; they don't do warm hugs anymore, apparently. His will always be cold-sided.

But she elicits a sudden, hostile reaction out of him with a thumb over scar tissue, tracing the patterns of a mark that he'll never again wear. He thought she might have left it there, but she's a battering ram on everything he's yet to explain to her. Fingers curl away from her, eyes wavering on her face.

"I should have got rid of it a while ago." is about as much explanation as he would give her; he didn't deserve it; a stain to have it, as a deadman. A thousand reasons other than the one that really tipped him over the edge of the cliff. Denver had left scars that were more than skin deep. Reid pulls his hand out of hers, before anymore phantoms threaten to burst from the seams of his memory. The rest of it, had a longer explanation that he cared to voice in one conversation. He cannot remember the last time he asked her, either. Whether she still gets her tattoo fuelled by magic that serves her as a protector: "You still get yours worked on?"

It's a game of tennis, passing the questions, back and forth so they didn't have to talk about themselves. He ruffles her hair like she's a kid again, for just a moment.

"Now where've I heard that before? You steal that line?" he pokes, as the smile on his face turns prideful, for all that she's accomplishing. "But I'm glad you're finding a way to manage," And that daily substance abuse isn't the norm. That message can be pulled from the inching frown on his face. "Now lonely I can empathise with." Historically, and on nights where there's nothing but hunger on his mind. "Actually, maybe addicition too, if the red stuff counts for shit."

He's trying to make light of it, like there's nothing shifting between the siblings and that dark things don't have to stay in the shadows completely. "But I'm proud of you, Lis." That's the real part, of all of it. Reid knows what it's like, more than she'll ever know to wake up, or know that every night there's a fight of wills that one battles with, every moment they're conscious. He gets it. Even if he can't imagine hers.

He supposes the difference between them, is necessity; one of them would die, eventually, without one of the substances.

Then, back to the ring. His thumb spins it on his finger, smooth and glossed. "Yeah, something like that." There had been no chapel, or priest; no formal arrangement beyond Reid delivering his version of forever to Anika. The kind that hadn't breached conversations beyond lifetimes. But they were, he supposes, married on everything but paper. Then, as if he needed to clarify that it had been the same woman (and not someone new) who'd left town with him, he says: "To Anika."

[rosexhalstead]

Many times Reid had told her not to invite him inside, and yet, he allowed it. He walked right into her house, after she'd welcomed him in, and closed the door behind him. As if he was the same brother she'd had growing up. As if he wasn't someone entirely different, now.

Her hand was reaching towards one of the cabinets when he voiced her old nickname, and she paused, her fingers draping over the cabinet handle but not yet pulling. Her stomach twisted as her focus took her elsewhere -- into the past where she was comfortable around him. Happy, even. She'd been his sunshine. But now... she wasn't. She wasn't anyone's sunshine.

Her stinging eyes brought her back to the present and she quickly yanked the cabinet door open and pulled out several liquor bottles. Vodka, rum, whiskey, scotch. They were fairly full, considering she hadn't been drinking much lately. "Has your taste changed?" Annabelle asked as she snatched a couple of glasses and placed them on the counter. Had she known he'd be showing up, Annabelle might have ensured there was animal blood in the fridge.

Another pause. A tight smile. "Thanks."

[reidhalstead]

In the quiet of her apartment, he should have been able to discern if there's any sarcasm lingering in her tone. If there's something ingenuine in between the words, as she lines bottles of every liquor up on the kitchen counter. He's just got back, and relief is still sinking in that Rose is alive, and well.

Safe then, to remind the both of them, he isn't pretending to think that she should forgive him for his transgressions. But she's his sister, and he isn't going to walk away because of a little cold shouldering. "Not since you last saw me." a beat, as he dares to cross the distance towards her kitchen, arms still tucked under his pits, "I'll have whatever you're having."

But Reid still knows his sister, and when she's harbouring something; things she'd like to say, but won't. Because she's never been that person to bite, before being bitten herself.

He'd been serious about the hair; he likes it. It suits her.

"You get any of my recent calls or messages?" He thinks he already knows the answer. Just as he's serious about ripping down the walls of her apprehensions; he'll be the monster, so she doesn't have to be. "You wanna talk about it?" Whilst he's there.

It, being everything and anything between dead parents, and leaving, really.

Reid cannot say he doesn't miss them, either. Even with fragments he's allowed out of the lockbox. Switched off, but not enough to forget it all.

[photoaria]

The boy is shy, and Aria gets it - she's not really all that shy but her partner is. But maybe getting him out of the main thoroughfare will help him relax some. Her face twists up when she notices the wince, and tries to give him some sort of apology with her own features before focusing back down on Henry.

She stands up straighter, and leads them up the short staircase up to the apartment - creaky floorboards and all. Holding open the door for them, Thoreau weaves around their legs and runs to her spot on the couch, pacing around on the cushions.

Most of Aria's physical movies are horror films collected over the years, but they do have access to streaming - so she loads up the first service she sees and scrolls over to the kids section, putting on the first older Disney movie she could find: Robin Hood.

She gestures for them to both get comfortable and she whisks away to put together the cocoa. One for Henry, and two for the vampires in the room - with a splash of whiskey and a droplet of blood from the fridge so they can taste it. She sits on the chair away from the couch, so as to not crowd the two.

"Hopefully this'll help him ease up, warm up a little." She nods over to Thoreau, who is slowly making her way over to cuddle and seek affection. "What all -- I know you can't say it all right now, but maybe start from the beginning?"

[reidhalstead]

Reid has glimpses of alternate versions of themselves,when their eyes meet; of evenings in Doughfellas, where arms length had been necessary; of her in the walls of an apartment tower, long gone, asking for stuff from a hunter's arsenal; of them at a bar, when he didn't know who else would tell him straight when he had been plagued by spiralling thoughts he couldn't shake. They've always been blunt swords with one another, clashing steel, but never cutting too deep. They have an understanding, and he's grateful for it now. Even if he knows how different they are from a woman killing on a beach, and a man unable to let go of all he lost. Aria has become a friend, and in the half-cocked denial he's got part-buried, she always has been.

He nods at her, like all his thoughts could be read from his gaze in one blink, as they head up into her apartment. Reid's still not keen on the narrow passageway, of walls closing in. But it's over before he can focus on how cramped the ascent could be.

There's a second where he almost trips over Thoreau darting between his ankles. Henry's little steps had been slow, and he reaches for the wall to keep himself marching up. Reid's quick to follow Aria's lead, with the TV and the couch. Lifting the boy playfully and sinking him into the couch. Quiet, with a warm smile, "Look what Aria's got for you? Can you say thanks?" Robin Hood begins the opening credits, and his eyes are locked on the screen, big and bulging. His hands sit his lap, as he mutters a halfhearted. "Tanks."

It's enough; he's distracted. And Reid sits himself on the other side of it, listening to Aria in the kitchen for a while, before returning with mugs to sit on a chair. The scents fill the room, before Reid carefully offers the mug to Henry, wrapping his hands around the cup and warning him with a faux seriousness, "It's hot. Slow sips, okay?"

Reid indicates the sip with his own mug, realising that Aria's not just spiked his. His features remain neutral, whilst the young boy's eyes light up with excitement of his little mug and cocoa.

It'll be gone in minutes, and that's expected. But Henry is careful in lifting it up and down between his mouth and lap.

Halstead's turning back to Aria, again. He nods to his own drink, lifting it. "Thanks, also." then: "Yeah. It won't take him long. Cocoa's a killer." Though, they hadn't really interacted with others outside of Texan's with too loud mouths, and good cooking.

There's a gentle laugh, because he has no fucking idea where the beginning is. "When I tell you I don't know where to begin, I'm not screwing with you." he wracks his mind over the whole thing, "I think we'd still be out there, if signals here weren't cut off." Truth, enough. Reid doesn't know where they'd be, exactly. If not, Texas, but it's clear enough that being back in town has changed them all, a lot.

He's also, making excuses; avoiding. And he shouldn't do that with Aria.

"We did some stops in Idaho, Wyoming, Utah, you know? No direction. Just drive." Even that had been eventful, between cops and hunters. Reid's being careful about what his says, whilst cocoa'd Henry is sitting in the room with them, watching Robin Hood. "We did try the settling down thing, more than once." They didn't have much luck. "I ran into some... clan problems in Colorado; Reardon." It's lower, and more bitter, because it'd been a point of contention between him and Anika for a while. "Don't suppose you both had that in New York, hm?" A joke, because it's all a bit dry, otherwise. "Oklahoma..." Another glance to Henry, "Witches." Cults. "That's where the little man's from." It's coming out in messy drivels, and suddenly, the blood-whiskey-cocoa is a good break, when he sips it. Realising, with a disbelieving smile, "Pick a place, Boughton. There's a shitshow in every one." And that's without mentioning — "Anika and I have had a fair share of — well, we had a disagreement about coming back here, for one. I didn't know about the storm until I got here."

[devilsvenom]

It had been so easy to settle into the little hunter's life. She had just gotten clean, she had therapy, just bought herself a nice little apartment and furnished it very nicely; no vampire invites in sight. It was the perfect little hideaway, and even the job was cool enough, though she imagined it was much more fun when the storm wasn't wreaking havoc throughout Port Leiry. No one had the slightest inkling that the Annalise they'd known was trapped, the days counting down until she could bring herself to kill the hunter and really cement this thing in stone. Of course, it was made easier by the fact that Rose wanted nothing to do with her murderous little sister, and Reid had left town with his girl — doing what he did best: running away.

She's working behind the counter, sorting through a stack of new arrivals and putting price stickers on them in the moments she gets before someone else comes up to the counter to check out or ask for some help. She heard a voice and looked up, startled by the sight of Reid in front of her.

The doppel had to play this correctly; a wrong move big enough, and she was sure that the brother would notice. Her brother. She had thought that the anger would still be there, and it was a little bit, but if anything, Annalise felt relief.

"Probably found in the up-and-coming section, where they've been stuck for the past decade." She quipped in response, trying to decide how best to play this.

"I'm taking my break," Lis called out, reaching around the employee-only door to grab her coat from the hook and motioning for Reid to follow her out back. It was quieter than out front and offered a little more shelter from the storm.

She pulled her vape from her jacket pocket, taking a hit as she looked over the brother, really taking him in. "You look like shit. Rough time on the road? Was I still high when you mentioned something about a kid in your messages?" Put the conversation onto him, what he's done in his absence, and whatever else is going on. It was less time for him to focus on Lis, to avoid him potentially pulling at the strings and unraveling the doppelganger's effort.

[reidhalstead]

"You're barely old enough to remember the up-and-comers a decade ago." he returned with a brotherly smile; stepping back when she wiggled herself out from behind the counter. Jacket in hand, as he's suddenly led out the back, like she's going to show him the secret, high-cost LPs they've got stashed away.

But she wastes no time in pulling him up for his hoodie and ripped jeans, either. Calls him out faster than he's daring to ever mention his time on the road. Fuck, he should've figured that Lis is going to talk about him, following a whole streak of her being in rehab, and getting well again. All he's got to go on is that she's safe (because she's working Earshot), and that's all he's got the right to ask for, nowadays. "Yeah, thanks, little hunter. Nice to hear." That he looks like shit. What's he supposed to say to that? "Just came to see you, s'all."

He doesn't remember if he mentioned Henry to her, but now he cannot lie about it or palm her off to some other subject. Reid instead tries to joke, as he passes through the backrooms door. "Least one of us got our shit together, between then and now, hm?" a beat, "But yeah, we've got a boy with us. Henry." No explanation as to how or why, because that's too long a story for her lunch break.

"Enough about me, Lis." He's dead. That won't change. Can't. He's exactly as he was months ago, but with new jewellery, a kid, and is slightly less claustophobia than some months ago. "How've you been? You know, following the stay away?" She looks better for it, "You're looking healthy." Hoping that comes across right. He's just a little out of sorts, with coming back after so long unsure they want anything to do with him.

[reidhalstead]

For: @devilsvenom

Lis hadn't been at her place, and he gambled on the idea that she hasn't step foot in the Halstead Manor, since the last time. Reid isn't keen to visit old ghosts that despise him, for all that he is and has become. There's already enough voices in his head, reminding him through whispers of a cursed chest that he is, and will always be a monster. No matter how wide or blunted the smile, or how he thinks he can raise a small boy from the backend of a witch's trauma. There's a reason his family expect nothing from him, anymore. Rose will never forgive him, and he can't ask her to.

Earshot's his last ditch attempt to let a baby sister know that he's back, for a while. Just to make sure there's nothing emerging from the snow that'll kill some of the only things he endures for. He's heard there's something clawing out of the whitewashed horizon, and he'll be damned if he lets it bleed any of his own.

Last Lis and he talked, she'd been in rehab, or something. Getting straight after going off the deep end in clubs. He thinks if he opened all the emotions that he's locked away, for survival, there's supposed to be some form of guilt for letting that happen. Acknowledgement that he didn't notice, or that he didn't care enough to stop the spiral and descent of a kid sister who thought her only option to live, was to sit on the edge of a death sentence that came powdered up her nose.

Reid's a perfect example of what the fates could do to them, when pissed off.

She's behind the counter when he enters. Stacks of vinyl, and 45s being sifted through by students looking for Arctic Monkeys and LP's of Bowie. Reid surveys the place, but it's not new; he's seen it before; it's his town, and he's got enough copies of The Maine in a bedroom in a Manor he won't dare touch.

Lis looks different. Reid can't place it, but she's vibrant. Soft smile, and focused eyes as she stickers new prices over shrink-wrapped slipcases. She's not as washed out as he remembers, even if he's still kicking melted snow off boots, and ruffling hair out of his hoodie. He's the scruff, parading in to see her put together, in her own way. Her style's still outlandish, but that's always been Lis.

She's got plenty reasons to kick him out the store too; more than just putting a bullet in her leg, once upon a time. He's bad news, and he recognises it, even if he doesn't want to be that. He's got a sickening amount of time on the earth, but they don't. So, he won't squander it. Reid props himself against the counter beside where she stands, "You got any copies of—" He glances a band splayed on a poster behind her head, "—Dirty Honey?"

[photoaria]

The kid starts to play with the toy she's handed him, and while she's maybe not sure how to react around him - she's gotta admit that it's sort of cute. "You're welcome, Henry." Aria half expects Reid to start explaining him and doesn't really buy the phone signal excuse, but instead he starts asking about the storm. No one knows anything, unfortunately. So she shakes her head.

"Never. Some sprinkles of snow, maybe, but this is.." She fakes a sigh, rubbing her forehead. "Apocalyptic."

His answer is decidedly not a 'everything's okay', even if it doesn't give her all the information. Henry's playing with the toy - he's gonna break it, but Aria doesn't care. She shakes her head and waves off the cost. It's fine. When she looks up, she studies Reid's face as if it might give her some insight into what he means by not a lot of photos. Arguments, danger..? The kid certainly speaks to something.

Looking down to Henry, she crouches down, "Hey, Henry. Wanna come upstairs and watch a movie?" Maybe it'll put him to sleep. She looks up at Reid, eyes soft. "Me and your.." She hesitates, and it's clear on her face she doesn't know what word to use until she finally says, "..dad need to talk a little. I can make you some hot cocoa."

[reidhalstead]

Yeah. That's pretty much the answer he got from everyone. Even strangers on the street were muttering about the end of times. Reid hasn't lost all hope of that, yet. Even if every state they went to had it's own version of a shitstorm, they weren't cut off from the rest of the world. Not like Port Leiry is, and since forcing their way in, they've realised they're stuck in town now, too.

"Everyone's said the same thing."

He'd usually be gunning for the cause, but his world isn't so black and white anymore. Reid's come back to another storm with no origin. But, selfishly, all he seems to be able to care about is that his people are safe. Surviving.

Henry doesn't listen about the toy, but Aria's got that covered too, in encouraging him to watch a movie. At first, he scrambles towards Reid's leg, because he doesn't know the woman. "Hey, little man. Aria's cool." He nudges his leg, as if he might remind her that she gave him a toy to break the ice; a silent act of peace between a boy with horror-laden memories. One day, he'll remember less of them, Reid hopes.

But he winces a little when Aria says dad, because he isn't. He'll never be. Henry's just a kid that deserved better than the shithole house, occupied by a needle peddler relative. Kid's unlucky enough to have the pair of them; a bloodsucker, and an almost hunter, as guardians instead. It's not exactly perfect, but it works. Most of the time.

He's grateful for what she's doing. "Thanks, Boughton." Lighter, as Reid gestures for Henry to follow Aria, he says: "You're going to be his new favourite, kid's addicted to cocoa."

[huntercam]

Cameron opts for something a little stronger in a glass than a beer, and sips it while they sit and chat. Nodding, he rubs a bit at the patches of hair that still sit on his cheeks and chin. "Phones have been.. shaky. I can't reach anyone outside of the city." Inside of the city, it's a toss up whether it wants to work or not. Usually not.

But he doesn't have answers about the snowstorm - only that it's odd, and monsters are popping up that he can't recognize. "It almost has to be something magical. I've heard whispers of people encountering odd creatures here and there, but I've had no experience myself." Which is to say: he cannot help, as much as he'd like to.

His eyes flicker down to his drink, and then back up to Reid - narrowing them slightly as he tries to decipher what meaning he had taken from the question. Deciding to chance it, he makes a soft 'hm' sound.

"..Anika?"

[reidhalstead]

Checks out. Reid had managed to get Anika's phone to send a few messages, here and there, but his own had been impossible. Hardly able to get a signal in the snow even in the city limits, without knocking on doors himself. (And he had)

"It's been like that for a while?" Must have been. And it's no surprise to Reid that Cam thinks it's something supernaturally charged, either. Shit like this always is. Breathing a laugh — because that's better than imagining how crazy the city's become. "Yeah. Like we needed anything else to crawl out of the woodwork. Shit." If anyone asked Reid about magical snow, and odd creatures, he'd say it screamed witch. What else is going to pull something like that off?

He has to turn off the desire to explore that, because it'll be good for nobody if he does.

Reid doesn't know why he doesn't like her name off Cam's tongue. Probably because they were talking beasts, and Halstead and McCormick are exactly that.

Sighing, Reid lets the box in his chest crack a little, but not enough where he has to remember what shit he's burned in Port Leiry. "She didn't want to come back." to clarify, "But she's fine."

How else does he summarise the intensity of the wedge between them? It's healing, but it'll never be the same whilst they're back in the town that wrecked them both.

"I don't even know where to start, man." Shaking his head, he could drop on Cam the insanity about cults, and Reardon, arguments and abandonments. Scarred hands, and new jewellery. A kid that's likely driving Anika to madness at the apartment of her dead father — "So tell me what I've missed here, first." He decides to bring it up, if only because he might have wished he'd had a better guide, in the beginning. "— you found a way to deal with that?" he glances to the bartender's throat Cam that had been glancing at earlier. Reid makes sure to add when he looks back at his friend: "I mean, you look good."

[drownholywater-kennedy]

@reidhalstead

Aurelia no longer remembered what warmth felt like. The snow had not stopped, the ever growing piles of snow seemed to birth new dangers every evening. Aurelia was loosing more hunters everyday. Less faces showed up to morning briefings. Every hunter knew the risks when the took the oaths and were inked with their tattoos, but it didn't stop the responsibility for their lives weighing heavily on Aurelia's shoulders. Old ghosts flickered behind her eyes every-time she slept.

The soft ding of the coffee pot finishing its brew cycle forced Aurelia out of her musings. Aurelia moved with stiff bones across the apartment. Not matter how much she tried to turn up the heat, an ever present chill leaked into the closest thing she had to a home. Aurelias movements were slow, her body on autopilot as she poured another cup of coffee, her mind continuing to drift around if the brotherhood would be able to weather the storm. If she was leading them into the new age she had promised them, or if she was crashing them against the rocks.

A knock at the door caused all movement from Aurelia to cease. She hadn't been expecting anyone. The hunter slowly set down her cup of coffee, with a deep sigh she moved towards the door. Aurelia pulled her handgun from her holster, holding it behind the door as she checked the peephole. Another ghost stood behind the door. Aurelia didn't lower her gun as she opened the door, a frown covered her face. Refusing to let the surprise be shown in her face. "I thought you left town Reid." Tone flat, eyebrow slowly raised, teeth clench. She knew this ghost couldn't cross the threshold.

[reidhalstead]

When it came down to the wire, the hunters that Reid had known his whole life were long past their sell-by's — and even more of them were expired. Fresh meat in unmarked graves is the consequence of the never-ending war of monster and man. He used to miss it; crave to know the squeeze of a trigger, and the powdered dust of a beast slain. He'd thought he'd get an honourable death too, when he kicked it.

Life, nor death turned out that way. And he's just a wastrel memory in hunter's minds. A reminder of what they have to lose.

Reid's pushing his luck when it comes to Kennedy. She's spared him too many times, already. Gifted him protection that he's kept close, and still, he cannot stop himself from seeking out familiar faces in a city he's not sure how long he'll be in. She's a survivor, and her will is unshakeable.

Hands stuffed in jacket pockets, he leaves a pace or two between him and the threshold of her apartment. Aurelia's face peeks through the crack in the opening, and if he had x-ray vision, he imagines there's something of a bullet waiting for him behind the wood, where her arm vanishes behind the door.

"Yeah, I did." He feels boyish, under Aurelia's scrutiny. "I should've known things don't always go to plan." It's a bad joke, about a death long past.

She probably won't invite him in, and he isn't asking for invitation. It's probably safer — even if it would have been a nice sentiment to not always be the thing in the dark. "You got time for a dead guy?" A smile, as he juts his head towards the exit. "I'd buy you a drink. But—"

He supposes he better explain the kid on the floor a few paces away, pressed up against the corridor wall and watching a video quietly on Reid's phone. Eyes glance over to check him, before they fall back on the hunter. "— I have underage company with me." a beat, to settle the unease that could come of her learning that Reid's dragging a kid around. "He's keen to meet you, and I figured if anyone's going to know what's going on around here, it's you, Kennedy."

[photoaria]

Upstairs, a small fluffy orange creature watches the boy pretend to be a plane, cause chaos, and eventually start to slam his hand down on the bell. There are other customers, but the cat's eyes focus on the small boy as she crouches down. A low mrr sound warbles up out of her throat, and she jumps down the shelves to go investigate further.

In the backroom, Aria winches as she hears a child start to make the bookstore his own personal play pen. She finishes up grabbing the last of the cleaning supplies to stock underneath the counter, and pauses as she hears a familiar voice. No way?

Taking the box out and setting it on the counter, she blinks as she comes face to face with Reid. And his.. kid? Since when did he have a kid? She slides out from around the counter, leaning against it with her hip. "No drink this time?" She smiles up at him, and turns her attention down to the kid - she's not sure how to react to him or if she should give him attention.

The weird thing about the memory issues is that she can't remember if she used to be good with children or if this awkwardness has just always been here. Eventually, she decides to walk a few feet away towards the 'gimme aisle' to pick up one of the toys designed for easy gifts. She hands it off to Reid with a smile - hopefully it'll occupy the boy's attention for a moment.

"What's, uh, what's the occasion? Other than the.. well, new addition." Aria looks down, still unsure what to even say, and then right back up to Reid. Thoreau hops up onto the counter, curling up into a loaf to stare down at Henry with wide, slitted eyes. "Everything okay?"

[reidhalstead]

Henry's spotted the orange cat upon making itself known. Mouth open, and scrambling to pursue; he's wriggling between Reid's legs to try and reach for it — gentle enough, like he knows to be cautious of new things, to not startle the creature.

Reid's chest swells with some kind of dull relief to see Aria. He isn't sure why, but familiar faces already offer his nostalgia he thought had left him a while ago. "Couldn't get hold of you, so I had to come by." His phones service is completely out. It's still in his pocket, but it's practically worthless. "And I don't know if I could have gotten this one into a bar without a fight." He nods towards the kid that's broken out of the leg prison to see if he can touch the cat, who hopes onto the counter to survey the scene.

It's already way past bedtime.

Reid's intervening in the next moment to stop the potential chase, and instead directs Henry's hands towards the toy Aria's kindly handed off to him. "Now look at this, Henry. Aria's found you a toy to play with. Okay? You want say thanks?"

The kid's eyes widen with glee — as they always do with shiny, new, colourful things come into view. The cat is momentarily forgotten about as the boy plants himself straight down in the middle of the floor, and peers at Aria, suddenly quiet and entertained — "Tanks." It takes less than three seconds for him to start pulling at every edge of it, locked in focus.

They've bought themselves a couple minutes.

Reid should probably explain Henry, the minute he figures out how to say it without saying he stole a kid from Oklahoma. So it's easier to talk about the reason he came back, first. "Never seen a snowstorm like this, here. You?" Hadn't seen a hurricane like the one before, either. City's still dangerous as ever, and he's got a lot of people he doesn't want to lose in it, too. Even without unlocking all the things he's got trapped away in chains within his chest. "I didn't hear from anyone in a while, I wanted to check."

The longer he's in town, the more he realises that whilst there's a ruthless pile of snow, so far, everyone's he's checked on in town were okay.

He doesn't know where to begin answering her question. He'd come to see her and see how she was doing, but when she's asked him the same — he realises he probably isn't as okay as he should be. Doesn't want to lie. He's become good at it, even. But he's tired of it. "I reckon we took less pictures than you did on your little trip." A smile that forces a laugh, as he spares a glance at Henry dragging the toy along the carpet like a race car. "Hey, Henry, be gentle, yeah?" a beat, because he's the perfect distraction, too. "You got the money to pay Aria for that if you break it?" He doesn't understand, because he's three. But the frown on his face is just as amusing as if he did.

[reidhalstead]

For: @photoaria

There's another bookstore, famous for its first editions and collectibles that Reid would like to visit, sometime.

But tonight, there's a friend he wants to see. The first one he'd made, in death. And the last person he'd ask for advice on a subject only souring, every day he keeps it locked away. Aria hadn't told him that when she'd gone off to New York with her lover, that there was a fight at every pit stop. But maybe that's just him, and his.

Scarred hands, and new jewellery, included.

Bookends is quaint. But the small boy, pretending to be a plane, and making loud noises between the shelves shatters that illusion of tranquillity. Henry's jogging between all the open gaps the moment the bell jingles to announce their presence. He's not sure if it's a headache, or the avoidance to show the boy what Reid does at night — and what he hasn't done tonight, whilst Anika's out.

Maybe Aria can help him find a new book for bedtime, or something.

Reid's not sure, in looking around, if it's that type of store. "Hey, little man. Come over here." A hand gestures for Henry to come back from threatening to knock over the shelves like dominos. There's an older later, with a birthmark on her chin, and a kind smile looking down at Henry. She looks like the type to aid the kid into a sugar rush, and Reid's not about to encourage that. The boy veers closer, but with Reid's second bout of encouragement, he finds himself distracted with the counter beside the checkout. Kid's trying to lean over on his tiptoes and see what's on the other side.

Then he finds the bell, and begins slamming his hand on it over and over, like a demon. Reid curses, rubbing at his ear as he dives to pick up the kid from dinging the service bell. "Okay, that's enough." Sighing and laughing, he shakes his head, whilst Henry is placed back down on two feet, trapped between Reid and the counter to he can minimise the damage for a whole thirty seconds.

[rosexhalstead]

Her eyes caught on movement -- his fingers on the doorframe. Annabelle's head tilted to the side as she noticed something new wrapped around her older brother's finger. A ring. One that was most definitely not there the last time she'd seen him. Her jaw clenched ever so slightly but she chose to not ask about it or comment on the new jewelry. It wasn't her business, clearly.

"Were they?" Belle asked as if she hadn't already known. It didn't bother her all that much, though. She rarely talked to anyone anymore. "Everything is fine. Colder, but fine." She wasn't sure what else he wanted her to say, or what he was expecting.

At his question, she let out her own sigh. Was it late? Yes. But it wasn't as if she was going to be falling asleep anytime soon. "Yeah. Come in." She muttered as she turned and walked away from the front door and towards her kitchen. "Want anything to drink?"

[reidhalstead]

She acted like she didn't know. And it provokes the idea that maybe Anika had been right; Rose had no interest in maintaining the thread of communication. He'd killed it — and buried the brother she'd known, when he put a knife in their father's neck to save Lis. Put a wooden cross in the grass on Halstead land, when he left the town that had been not only the death of him, but the death of so many others, too.

If she hated him, it didn't change that he wanted to know she was safe.

Reid knows better than to take her dismissive attitude as truth. She's been in crisis, and in places he's never been able to save her from. He's at least trying to be some semblance of an anchor, even if he only docks once in a while.

Stepping over the threshold, he follows her inside, gently closing her door behind him. There's something herbal-smelling inside her apartment, but he cannot pinpoint it. Just like he isn't sure how to talk to her, anymore.

It hits him so suddenly, about how he doesn't know how to be a brother.

Clearing his throat, he nods at her polite gesture. "Sure, sunshine." Habit. Even now. Reid lingers by the door, unsure how far he's supposed to step into her space without fulfilling the shoes of the parasite that he is. Instead, he nods towards her, hands tucking awkwardly underneath his biceps. "You cut your hair. It looks good."

[huntercam]

When he emerges, his gaze immediately falls on the familiar figure at the edge of the room. Maybe it's a draw to his sire, maybe it's just the idea that it's a familiar scent - but he cannot help the surge of emotion that he has to tamp down. Cameron is still not very skilled at naming the things he feels, so as Reid approaches - he tries to find the words for it. Relief? Is he happy to see an old friend? Perhaps. His lips slide into something of a smile - his real one, very small, and tight.

His gaze flicks from Reid to the sculpture. "Clay. Made to look like bone." Because he is not an animal.

They leave the gallery to the nearest place to grab a drink - and Cam does not protest any bit. In Reid's time away, he doesn't think he's changed much, doesn't think much has happened to him, either. Glass in hand, he sips and savors the ashy burn of alcohol - all while he eyes the pulsing vein in the bartender's neck.

Maybe a nightcap if Reid is open to it. He won't ask, because he knows what he was like before. His thumb traces the rim of his glass and he finally asks, "Why are you back? I'd banked on it being a few decades before I saw you again." Another sip, and he drags his eyes away from the call of blood.

"I hope there's no trouble." In paradise, with his family, or on the road.

[reidhalstead]

"Good. That's less fucked." On the sliding scale of Reid's life, it might not have been the most unhinged of discoveries if McCormick had taken to vulgar habits, given new abilities. But he's still relieved Cam isn't entirely off-kilter. And even more glad that he doesn't have to wrestle with morality tonight about potential bone sculptures; he doesn't have to pretend he's still so righteously driven, when he's got bible-thick bloodshed on his soul.

He's ready for that drink.

A sweating beer in his hand is comfort, and every time it touches his lips, he imagines it's going to cure whatever broken parts are inside of him.

Reid's back in Port Leiry, and so far, everyone he's checked on is safe. It's relieving, but he isn't sure that the woman he dragged back to hell is so glad for it.

"Yeah. I thought that too," he admitted, even though he hadn't given much thought between being driven out of states, and crashing cult parties. "I couldn't get hold of anyone. This snow knocked out the comms, I guess. I just wanted to check on Lis and Rose, you know?" That isn't a secret he minds sharing with Cam, who'd known them long enough. It'd been all the push Reid had needed; an excuse, he supposes. Someone else though it had been, anyway. "You know anything about it, man? I've never seen snowfall like this that's almost put the city in standstill—"

Reid's distracted by Cam's line of sight, and hesitates in pointing it out. Because the man manages to divert his attention away from the obvious, so Reid doesn't make a thing of it. Laughing, it could almost be considered a scoff as Halstead lifts the beer again to drink, "You should know just as well as I do. There's always trouble."

[rosexhalstead]

Lately, Annabelle hadn't been using her phone all that much. It wasn't because she was avoiding people, necessarily, but half of the time the signal didn't work. So what was the point in trying? She didn't have many people that she talked to and the ones she did, she knew how to find them.

Belle hadn't talked to her sister in a few weeks. Her brother, far longer. She had no idea what to say to either of them anymore. Not after what had happened with their parents. And on top of that, she was still mourning while trying to figure out what the fuck to do with the family estate.

She had no help from Reid. He'd killed their parents and then left with a person that used to be her close friend. They'd left together. Reid had left her, and Lis, again. Even if he and Annalise hadn't killed their parents, how the fuck was she supposed to get past that again?

The knock on her door was unexpected. The snow was still falling, causing a town wide issue where everyone was urged to take shelter. So who the fuck was at her door, uninvited?

As the voice traveled from behind the door, to her ears, her whole body tensed. Why was Reid here? She racked her brain, trying to remember the last time he'd reached out to her -- had he told her he was coming? No. No, she hadn't received anything from him in a while.

With a sigh, Belle grabbed a jacket, pulled it on, and then opened the front door. A mixture of sadness, confusion, and anger twisted in her chest as her eyes met his. He looked... Worried. She almost laughed.

She ran a hand through her now short hair and then finally addressed him: "Reid." Her eyes flickered over his shoulder, observing the surrounding snow. Only one track of footprints. "You're alone." Because saying oh my god you're back didn't feel like it fit. Her expectations of him, now, were that he'd leave.

[reidhalstead]

He can hear her inside. At the very bare minimum she's alive. It doesn't give him the reprieve he's hoping for, though. There's a heavy weight keeping the door shut, and not even Reid is strong enough to push through it. Belle would have to find a way to move it aside, just to face him.

His mouth opens to call again, and he'd tell the neighbours they don't want to get involved if they got too interested in the noise he's making.

But then the door opens, and he's looking at his sister. Hair cut short, tired — wrapped in a jacket and held tightly against her. He didn't know what he expected, in making sure she was okay. Maybe a hug, or some sort of faux brotherly-sisterly thing that resurrected the dead parts of what they'd lost.

"Yeah." he says, because the fuck is he bringing Anika to Belle's door after knowing his sister's opinions on his damn life. He loves her, even if she hates him for it all. A thumb twists the ring on his finger, around and around as it lowers from the doorframe. And for a moment, he thinks he should have taken it off, just for now to avoid all their tensions. But without gloves, there's no hiding the scarred hand, absent a hunter mark from her, either. They're both a little different, in the distance.

Too late to change it now. "I couldn't get hold of anyone. Phones were out." Croft said — but that part didn't matter. "Just needed to know if everything was alright."

Clearly, it isn't. The city he's known for his entire life is buried in snowfall like nobody's ever seen. "I know it's late." There's not exactly an early for him. "Listen," he sighs, and looks at the door. "Can I come in?"

[reidhalstead]

For: @rosexhalstead

5th January 2026.

Whilst the night's young, Reid wants to use it; no more days in cramped trucks, or wondering what had become of his family. The last days had been the longest in stretched silences, and quiet arguments. It'd all been to bring him to this point, where he knocked with some urgency on Belle's door. Waiting, waiting.

He can hear a heartbeat inside. A steady, settled thing, spiking at the noise he's making.

Boots wet with melting snow, jacketless in a long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He's every part unequipped for the shift in weather. But he's not cold. Just concerned, enough to ache and dismantle everything he'd left Port Leiry to build. Enough to rush across states, on the off-chance she needed him.

Reid's good at burning down towers. Casualties be damned.

Swallowing, he braces on her doorframe, tense, because he isn't sure if Anika's right; Rose has moved on from him, and ignoring his messages hadn't been all bad weather, but choice. She already said she didn't want to fly out to visit him, and he understood. Her anger isn't without reason; he'd done unspeakable things; hurt her in ways he'll never be forgiven for; she feels abandoned in hiding in shadows for years, and more in leaving their home. And on top of it all, Reid had stolen their parents from her, to save Lis that burden.

But he'd come back, to make sure they were okay. Isn't that worth something?

He'd crack the doorframe if she made him knock again. Frustration coils in, because he's hiding the worry, "Belle. It's me. Are you alright — can you open the door?"

[reidhalstead]

For: @huntercam

"Are you here for the..."

Reid tips his head away from whatever violence paints the canvas he's looking at, to look at the dark-haired, charcoal-eyed figure in a long overcoat. He hadn't paid much eye to the stragglers in McCormick's gallery, not even the shifty looking ones who stare at him like he's hiding something.

He is, but it's hardly what they're hoping for.

Arms folded, and indifferent to whatever the guy's looking for, Reid's gaze flies beyond the stranger's shoulder to see Cam's shape emerge from a staff door. That assured poise and invisible link that almost had Reid forgetting he's done that to the man. Torn him back from the edge, so he can be here, talking to art collectors and the like.

"No. Here for him." Reid shoots the overcoat a sharp smile, and nods over towards McCormick's approach. He doesn't wait, bypasses the stranger and slowly meets his old friend in his stride. A smile that's less room for conversation in Cam's house of horrors, and instead one that Reid's more adept within. Familiar faces that don't expect him to balance the beast of a lock on the cage in his chest, "McCormick. You're coming for a drink." Too long without. And still, not enough time planned to stay in town, to waste it with explanations upon his return. Not at least, without a beer in his hand. The scarred hand shifts awkwardly in the crook of his elbow. "I don't care if you don't need one. I do."

And company who won't fight him about needless shit, seems good. Or at least if they fought, Reid hopes they're drawing lines at eyes, this time.

Unrelated but equally as fucked, "Also, is that sculpture carved out of bone over there?"