SOLIVAGANT.

[sclviagant]

( pedro pascal / cis male / he/him ) — ADRIAN CASTILLO has been living in Port Leiry for TWENTY FIVE YEARS. They currently work as a OWNER OF SWEETWATER, and are FIFTY years old. No one is sure if they’re actually a HUNTER or if they’re connected to THE BROTHERHOOD. They tend to be quite UNFORGIVING and HARSH, but can also be TACTICAL and DUTIFUL.

TW: infidelity, murder, etc.

Name: Adrian Ezequiel Castillo.

Occupation: Owner of Sweetwater.

Age: 50.

Sexuality: Homosexual.

Species: Human/Hunter.

Clan/Pack/Coven?:  The Brotherhood.

Hometown: San Luis Obispo, California.

Relationship Status: Widowed.

Personality Traits: Unforgiving, harsh, tactical, dutiful.

TLDR: Adrian is haunted by his past. A hunter who never wanted this, but dammit, he's good at it. Has a moral code, hates supernatural creatures. So much so that when he finds out the lohl is a witch, Adrian kills him. Though his daughter might be a witch too, she gets a free pass for some reason. He's complicated.

001. It was just you, your father and your mother for the first ten years of your life. You lived simply, in a small town. Your father owed a local dive bar, which allowed him to indulge himself in his two favorite things, drinking and sleeping with other women. Your mother, was a homemaker, who spend her days doing laundry, humming to the radio, and looking out the window, waiting for your father to come home.

002. Your father wasn't smart either. One night, he brings a girl home, figuring your mother would be long asleep. She was at one point, falling asleep next to you, but when you woke up in the middle of night. She's not there. That's somewhat normal, but this late at night? You hear shrieking... again not unheard of. You hear your father's fear in his burly voice and now you know something's wrong. You run out of bed, head straight for the backyard because that's where they always are. First you see her, not your mother, but another woman. She's ethereal, stunningly beautiful right out of a fairytale, but she's covered in blood. You see your father, he looks bewildered, terrified, and in shock. Then you look over and you see your mother with her throat ripped out, bleeding out right before your eyes. The creature, whatever she was, disappear, and you hope it just a twisted nightmare. It isn't.

003. Things changed after your mother's death, how could they not? Your father dove into obsession. What was the woman, if you could call her that? How could she do what she did so easily? With no effort at all? No second thought? His obsessions lead him to strange answers. Vampires. Vampires lead to witches. Witches lead to werewolves. Your father is going mad. You try to drown him out by listening to a Zeppelin CD, trying to teach yourself how to play guitar. The same guitar your mother bought you.

004. Years of research leads your father to Port Leiry. You, begrudgingly, join him because you're fifteen and he won't leave you alone in California. One way or another, you two end up on the doorsteps of the Shah family. They bring you in, agreeing to teach your father the ways of the hunt and by your father's volunteer, they agree to teach you. This isn't what you want. Don't you want to avenge your mother? Or will you let her die in vain? Your father convinces you, you can make the world safer.

005. Your father is lousy at this. Uncoordinated. Messy. You pick it up quickly. Your agile. Swift. Strong. Guitar strumming and supernatural killing are your two natural talents. Your father is a liability. He's gonna get you and the rest of the Shah family killed if they keep bringing him along. He won't quit. This is what he's meant to do, he's convinced of it. You saw the way your mother die. You know death by the hands of the supernatural will not be kind. What you do to your father, you consider a mercy.

006. When adulthood approaches, this is all you know. Death is all you know. Music is your only sense of normalcy. During the day, you kill your monsters and in the night, you play your songs. One night, there's a man in the crowd who can't stop looking at you and you can't stop looking at him. You don't believe in fate, but he makes you wonder.

007. Six months in, you know you love him. You don't say it, because it seems like everyone you love disappears sooner than later, like the words off your tongue translate to a evil curse. Speaking of curses, your latest hunt involves a couple of bad witches. You're not sure you believe in good ones, but these aren't the type make you wonder. Killing the man is easy, the woman gets away. When you search the home, to make sure no one else is lingering, you find a nursery. Two beautiful blonde babes sit, stare at you, and sob. You know why they cry. You know what it's like for a monster to come into your home . You bring them home. Why? Trying to right your many wrongs? Who the fuck knows. Gael is either in or he's out. The twins aren't going anywhere. He doesn't leave. You finally get the family you've always prayed for.

009. You keep careful eyes on them both, wondering if one day the other shoe is going to drop. If one of them will manifest their parents' curse. What will happen then? You try to instill resilience and one learns better than the other. You try not to pick favorites, but it's so clear that you do. You love them both, but one is built for this life and the other isn't. Both truths scare the shit out of you.

010. Even with all your faults, you've always been true to who you are. To your beliefs too. This cannot be said of everyone in your family. A snake lingers in your home and you're worried he'll offer Gemma the apple. He already has. When the lies are discovered, you are left with one choice. It's not the one you want to make, but the one you have to. It should have been done by you and only you. Gabriel's hand in it, you regret it to this day.

011. It's been two years since Gael's death and you are the shell of the man you used to be. You've never been one for the bottle, regardless of being a barkeep. You try to pick up your guitar, but your fingers don't strum the same. There's little comfort in the bloodshed. If you killed them all, every vampire, every werewolf, every witch, would it make you feel better? Would you finally be able to rest?

[sclviagant]

When? 8:45p

Where? Port Leiry’s Center for the Arts - Conclave Gala.

Who? @death-becomes-him

Extravagant gala for some, an absolute horror show for others. Adrian is grouped with the latter, as a lingering sense of mild malaise filled his entire being. What a nightmare it is to be enclosed with nearly every single pest this town has to offer, rats excluded, and Adrian can't do a damn thing about it. He sits. He watches. He endures. Creative thoughts help pass the time. Say, how much gasoline would it take to blow this entire thing up in flames, Adrian wonders. How many gasoline canisters can he fill at the nearby gas station before someone asks questions. Those bouncers outside were awfully handsy, but if he found someone to distract them, he could pull it off. Throw gas on every inch. Torch the fucker. Let the flames run wild and mad. Let them swallow every monster in this building. Every single supernatural creature would burn. The ones he likes and the ones he loves too.

Speaking of love, Adrian has caught glimpses of Gael multiple times throughout the evening, as if he had been looking for him. As if he's keeping watch.

As much as Adrian would love nothing more to stick his head in the ground and never hear a word about Gael Fiori ever again, he is a song that's been stuck in his head for over two decades. He's earned a keen ear for his husband and when the whispers blow through the wind, Adrian hears them. Not only has Gael become a vampire, not only has he put his loyalty into Reardon, they've returned that loyalty and given him a head seat at the table.

From what Adrian has seen tonight, Gael plays the part well. The words Gael says to these peers of his, Adrian will never know, but he can tell the way they listen, they way nod, and smile, Gael makes the sell. It's so fucked how natural it comes to him.

Tonight is not the night to approach the head of Reardon. It's too risky, Gael certainly has too many friends, but it's feasting on Adrian. It's one thing to be a vampire, it's another to become a vampire ganglord.

Adrian cloaks himself amongst the crowd, angled perfectly to catch sight of Gael upstairs, talking to whoever about whatever. When Gael and his conversational partner step out of Adrian's sight, he follows. He has no plans of letting Gael out of his sight. He weaves his way through the crowd, looking for another perfect angle to spot Gael until he is blocked by someone.

"Excuse me," Adrian says, low and hushed. It's spoken out of habit rather than anything genuine. But the body doesn’t budge, and his words hang there — unanswered.

[sclviagant]

Let it be known that Adrian absolutely does not want to be here tonight. There’s a multitude of reasons why he did show, the biggest one goes by the name of Gael Fiori, just to see if the rumors of his “late” husband are true. Is he running the Reardon Clan? You can find him lurking in a corner, keeping eyes on Gael through out the night, as well as his children.

[sclviagant]

⊗ for gabeee

Send me ⊗ for 3+ headcanons about your muse and mine.

Adrian was never a playful father. However, one of the few things Adrian and Gabe did together (outside of hunting) was building legos. Adrian liked doing them because it was a way to "play" with his son without having to use his imagination or try too hard. I can see them sitting there for hours, in complete silence besides the Doors album playing in the background, working on a Lego set. The amount of pride Adrian felt when they finish a set..... indescribable.

Adrian listens to what Gabe has to say. He values his opinion a lot. Even when Gabe was a kid, he could sense that he had some wisdom in him. An old soul. Even if it doesn't seem like it, Adrian takes what Gabe says to heart.

A part of Adrian fears Gabe. Adrian killed his own father. When is the time going to come when Gabe realizes he could do the same? He's already done it once.... would he kill his other father too? Adrian thinks yes.

@gabrielismss

[sclviagant]

★ + Kevin Ma

Send me ★ + a name of another muse / character in my muse's canon and they'll talk about their relationship with them

Adrian furrows his brow. "Ma?" he repeats, shaking his head. "Don't know him." He thinks for a moment. "Hold on... is Kevin Ma one of those kids who hang out at the arcade? With Morg?" Is he the werewolf or the vampire? "Don't know him," Adrian repeats, his voice flatter now. Less friendly too, if it was ever friendly to begin with. "I don't know any of those kids... but Morgan would be better off making friends with those who are the same species as her."

@kevm

[sclviagant]

★ + Reid

Send me ★ + a name of another muse / character in my muse's canon and they'll talk about their relationship with them

"We are constantly losing soldiers. It's the name of the game. I've made peace with it. Accepted it is as much as I can. Losing Reid..." Adrian speaks stiffly, as if there's heavy emotion ready to spill through whatever cracks he might leave, if he's not careful. "What happened to Reid is a goddamn shame." Adrian tries not to think about it. As far as he's concerned, Reid is dead. Dead like Gael. Dead like any other Brotherhood member who crosses that soulless line from dead to undead. "He was my fucking kid brother." Not like his brother. He was his brother. "My lovable, pompous, cocky, idiotic kid brother."

Adrian shook his head.

"When we lost Reid, we lost a good one and it was a fucking shame."

@reidhalstead

[sammykeels]

When: Thursday, June 5th, 2:00-8:00pm, Laundromat w/Mr. Shiv Missing Hunter Protocol, Stage 2 Where: Sweetwater Who:  @sclviagant

With Ms. Kennedy informed of the situation, Sammy was on to the next person on the list: Mr. Castillo. Don’t get him wrong, he genuinely liked and respected the guy, but... it was hard to explain.

Basically everything he’d seen or heard about Mr. Castillo doing that wasn’t directly related to hunting seemed to be a kind of terrifying look into the sort of life Sammy desperately wanted to avoid. The man was a living, breathing monument to the consequences of pouring a whole life into the job, the way that it could core out his whole life and leave a man scrambling to glue together the shell of what was left. He didn’t know the details of everything that had happened two years ago, but he’d heard enough to know that it was bad. Working with him was fine, he always managed to learn something, and the man clearly knew his stuff, but spending long enough around anyone who’s so clearly living an echo of another life was enough to leave Sammy sitting on the curb a few blocks away to drag his thoughts back together. 

He’d started to write that into his schedules. 2:00-3:45, Training w/Mr. Castillo, 3:45-4:00, Buy a smoothie and sit in the park. Fun times. 

That didn’t really matter right now, though, not when Mr. Shiv was in a coma and Sammy had to run around and alert other senior hunters in town instead of going to the Crow & Chalice directly to check on his status. He pushed open the doors to Sweetwater, grateful to see that it was just early enough that none of the regulars had started to trickle in, crossing right to the bar. 

“Shiv’s hurt. I got a note today, he’s being taken care of by someone allied with the Brotherhood, but it’s been two weeks and he’s still not awake. I spoke to Ms. Kennedy about it already.” He slid the letter across the bar, so Mr. Castillo could read it, sitting on one of the stools. 

[sclviagant]

Adrian is expecting Sammy at two o’clock. Not one forty-five, not one fifty-five. Two on the dot. He’s trained with Sammy enough times to know the kid will be there right on time. There’s a saying Adrian’s father used to say that comes to mind whenever Sammy bursts through Sweetwater’s doors. If you're early, you're on time. If you're on time, you're late.

Adrian makes an effort to train the newbies, passing on the torch so to speak. He’s no recruiter, they usually find him by word of mouth, he’s not roping anyone into this life. There’s no shortage of recruits as wanna be heroes grow on trees in Port Leiry. Ten out of ten humans have had some supernatural encounter in this city, nine out of ten of them want justice against whatever the fuck it was that happened to them, about one out of those nine goes seeking it out for themselves. Adrian’s own father had been the stupid one and two generations of Castillo had been suffering ever since.

Bottom line is not all of these newbies last. They either quit early, which frankly, is the smart way to go. The ones that go the distance are usually picked off by their first or second hunt. Third if they’re really lucky.

The kid is a medic, which technically speaking, is different than an usual soldier. Instead of fighting the good fight, medics like Sammy linger on the battlefield as a first aid measure. It's apples and oranges. Werewolf bites and bandages. It's like playing ding dong ditch on death's door.

Right on cue, Sammy bursts through the doors, except he doesn't look right. There's no Hello Mr. Castillo, how are you doing today? falling out of his mouth. Is Sammy concerned? Scared? Wary? Wary isn't new, Adrian gets the feeling his broody, pessimistic nature makes Sammy uncomfortable. But whatever this is, this emotion that has overcome Sammy, is.

The kid gets straight to business. Shiv is in trouble.

Shit happens with Brotherhood kin everyday, but it hits harder when it's family.

His visible eye widens with concern. "What happened to Shiv?" Adrian shoots back at Sammy without missing a beat.

What Sammy says next puts a grave feeling in his stomach. "Allied with?" What the fuck does that mean? Are they.... being cared for.... by...

Two weeks have passed and no one has bothered telling him until now? Yeah, maybe he's been mentally checked out the last few months due to the demolition of his family, but that doesn't mean he should be completely left out of the loop. Especially, when it involves Shiv. Adrian is practically their uncle. No, not practically, he is their uncle.

"Why are you just telling me this now?" Adrian barks at Sammy. He gets ferocious when he's scared like a dog does. Raised hair, bared teeth, I'll hurt you before you hurt me. He does this now, to Sammy, because Adrian knows what he will say next is going to hurt.

[retrospectral]

Every time she thinks she has herself protected, a particularly motivated vampire proves just how little control Morgan has over anything.

In this case, she watches with abject horror as Gael fails to compel her, and then immediately turns that horrible power on his daughter. "Gemma, no, don't listen to him!" But it's useless. She knows it. And she doesn't dare reach out over the threshold where the vampire could grab her. So she's helpless as the girl marches inside. A weak attempt to stop Gemma is made as Morgan's hand just slips past her arm -- she knows how strong a compulsion is. She can't stop it, and she doesn't want to hurt Gemma (and lacks the strength to hold anyone for long). Morgan doesn't dare call for Gabe at this point either. "Shit."

There isn't long to sit with her disgust at Gael, though, as the woman stands firm in her doorway as if she is the only thing holding the walls up. With the current state of the Castillo-Fiori clan, she very well might be. "You -- I can't believe you just tried that. All of it!" Her shouting is drowned by the sound of an engine, though, and her relief is only momentary when she realizes the pizza boy hasn't just shown up in the middle of some sort of domestic.

No, it's Adrian, and once more Morgan stays rooted to the spot as Gael reacts faster than she could even blink. There's a harsh crunch of man on metal, and the woman is already near to tears as her conscience grapples with labeling cowardice as courage, staying safe inside and doing absolutely nothing as the twins collide upstairs and the husbands clash in her driveway. She hears Star climb the stairs after Gemma and the dog begins barking outside the door to the guest room. All while she stands, knowing every choice is certain death -- and making no choice at all is still a damning decision.

The vampire drags Adrian to her doorstep, some vicious mockery of a cat presenting you with its prey. Yes, I see it. Drop him, please. Morgan's glistening eyes catch the one of Adrian's that isn't covered as he struggles and her nails dig into the paintwork of the door jamb, reminding herself that what Gael has done to his husband he could do to her the second she leaves the safety of her home.

But words carry across the threshold just fine, and suddenly he's driving daggers through her with the mention of Bradley. Suddenly, she's back in that arcade while a monster roars at her before reminding her how desperately hungry he was, how sweet her husband tasted, and how he killed the man just because he could. Because he believed he should. And after what Gael has done to his daughter, after what he tried to do to Morgan herself, she isn't sure she can risk this being a bluff.

"He lost someone recently, so he's going to spend a little time with us. Is that okay, Mo?" "Can we help him find the person he lost?" "No, sweetheart. Sometimes when you lose someone, it's not like hide and seek. You don't get to see them again, but you remember them still, and then you can find them again in your memories."

She's lost things she didn't have, before. The family she never had and still somehow lost. But Morgan has lost people, lost her person, and she'll never forgive herself if she loses someone on her doorstep, two feet away, while she stands and does nothing. While she stands crying for everything she's lost and still stands to lose.

"No... p-please," Morgan begs, her voice barely a whisper at first as she emerges from the deep pit of memory she was thrown into. The sound of a hard thump upstairs shakes her back to the present once again and she looks at Adrian as Gael forces himself onto the man in this strange beast shaped like passion, rage, and insatiable hunger. The foundation of Morgan's resolve is crumbling, and it feels like the whole house Gael wants to enter so badly might collapse with all of them inside. Morgan begs again.

"I'm... I'm sorry. S-stop, please -- I'll let you in i-if Adrian comes in first. Please, just... don't kill him. Don't kill any of them, please."

@ofreardcns

[ofreardcns]

Adrian’s not taking to the kiss well. That’s too damn bad. Gael keeps his mouth pressed to Adrian’s until the hunter’s jaw clamps shut and the slick spill of copper is forced to pool between them. He tastes denial—salt, stubbornness, the metallic whine of pride—but beneath it thrums the spark he needs: that single drop of vampiric grace, already threading through Adrian’s bloodstream, searching for torn flesh to knit. 

The line—don’t kill any of them— rings in his skull, sour as curdled milk. Any of them? Morgan’s plea fractures something deep, because it folds his children into the same ledger as the man who burned their lives down. He swings his gaze to her, the porch light carving harsh hollows in his face.

“Any of them?” he repeats, voice raw, hand cinching tighter on Adrian’s throat until the pulse thumps frantic beneath his thumb. “Morgan, no. Him—just him. And clearly even that’s touch and go.” Case in point: this stupid fucking kiss. “But my children are exactly that: mine. I crossed the grave for them. I won’t lay a finger on their heads.”

But the house still denies him. That vampiric curse of the threshold, it might as well be iron bars. Gael adjusts, knuckles whitening around Adrian’s collar as he drags the hunter sideways, nudging him inch by inch toward the doorframe.

Morgan hesitates, lips quivering. She looks smaller than she did a minute ago, guilt widening her eyes to brittle porcelain. He almost pities her. Almost. Because he’s watched pity bloom into weakness before, and what waits on the other side of that door is not weakness but salvation.

“Let him inside first,” she whispers and “That’s the arrangement,” Gael replies, low. He pushes Adrian forward like a battering ram.  Adrian lurches, furious, one-­handed on the jamb as though he could brace away the inevitable. The gun is still tucked at his waistband, but Gael can feel its weight trembling—a threat on life support. He wonders whether Adrian realizes the barrel will never line up before Gael’s fingers sever the tendons controlling it. Some equations solve themselves before they’re written.

With a choked sob, Morgan steps back. There. The veil breaks; Gael feels the invisible film of the threshold peel like wet paper. Power slides into the foyer on a cold breeze. He almost sighs at the sensation—relief, hunger, the intoxicating scent of human heartbeats thudding from upper rooms.

But he’s not foolish enough to drop his guard. Adrian could still throw something tragic and heroic into the gears. Gael shifts, twisting the hunter’s arm behind his back until tendons creak, guiding him through the doorway. “Think you can hold him for me, Morgan?” he says, nodding toward the stunned woman. “I’m just going to go upstairs, call Gemma off and bring them both downstairs. I promise.”

Adrian snarls incoherently. Gael ignores him. His ears are tuned to softer frequencies—the rapid patter of twin heartbeats at the top of the stairwell, the low growl of Star, the scuff of Gemma’s sneakers on hardwood.

He can't wait to see his kids any longer. He lets Adrian go. Two steps and he’s at the base of the staircase. He puts his palm flat to the banister, remembering the hours he’d spent here on some pizza night. Still your family, he tells himself. You only have to show them.

For the second time that night, Gael takes the stairs two at a time. The hall smells of dust and laundry soap—mundane, comforting things that snag his undead senses and pull him backward in time. He braces against the ache those memories stir—lets that hunger for all that was clot in his mind like scar tissue, thick and functional.

At the top landing he slows. No need to spook them more than he already has. The guest-room door hangs ajar, a sliver of lamplight spilling across the carpet. Inside, Gabe stands rigid beside the nightstand. Gemma hovers behind him, cheeks blotched crimson, defiance trembling through her shoulder. She’s bleeding from the back of her head. Fuck, that must have been the crack they heard—

But for the first time in two years, Gael sees his kids together and it’s like the sun. 

“Gemma—easy you can stand down now.” His gaze shifts to the boy’s white-knuckled grip. “Gabriel, no one’s here to hurt you. Let’s all head downstairs, the three of us, and talk this through—together.”

@sclviagant

[sclviagant]

What a complete mind fuck. A kiss shouldn’t be an act of war, if anything, it’s a white flag. Something you put your guard down for, drop all weapons, and you surrender yourself to tenderness. It's simple language for Hey, let's cut the psychological warfare bullshit, I want you, do you want me too?

A notion of love shouldn't be fucking tampered with.

For a moment, for one goddamn sliver of a second, Adrian falls for it. For the vampire, for Gael, for the fucking kiss. He doesn't recoil when Gael's lips meet his, he doesn't pull away either. Not at first. Their lips are like magnets, one suited for the other, find their way to one another, because that's just what they do. It's nature's will.

Adrian misses his husband. He misses the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around him. How life didn’t feel safe until Gael rolled into his life. How it felt even more dangerous after the fact. He misses laughing with him. How Adrian’s dry quips would fall under his breath, not meant for the ears of another, but Gael always heard what he had to say. They’d share a knowing look and an along with a boyish smirk towards each other. Gael was the only person in the world who knew Adrian could be funny. He misses the mundane parts — the bullshit of raising a family, the comforts and complications of marriage. He misses the extraordinary parts too. The hunting, the killing, their sacred attempts of cleansing this world of whatever evil they could. Post hunt showers, where there was nothing inherently sexual about it, but ethereally intimate. How they washed the sweat, blood, and war off of each other. He misses that too though, sex with Gael. His misses the soft touches and tenderness in the way their bodies meshed, but he misses the rough parts as well. The animalistic ways in which they reminded themselves that they belonged to each other and no one else. He misses Gael. The Gael that was mortal. The Gael that was human. The Gael that was his.

Then the blood, the metallic droplet, falls from Gael’s lip onto Adrian’s tongue. With it, a sinister realization. This is no white flag, this is no act of love. This is treason on both parts. Gael, because he knows Adrian wouldn’t ever allow this to be healed this way. He much rather have his other eye gouged out than endure whatever this bullshit savior act Gael is trying to pull here. Adrian, because he allowed this kiss to happen in the first place.

Now, Adrian recoils, now he pushes away. He does his best to anyways, as Gael’s grip keeps him posed. Out of his one eye, he sees a flower vases sitting on the porch. If he could just reach over, grab it, and smash the thing over Gael’s head. It wouldn’t do anything but buy him seconds, maybe, but the satisfaction of watching the glass shatter against the vampire’s big head would be worth it.

And then there is Morgan.

Adrian practically barks like a rabid guard dog at the mention of her late husband. Fuck Gael for mentioning Brad and fuck him for playing on her heart strings like a goddamn fiddle. How fucking unfair and how flat out fucking cruel.

Morgan goes on to beg for their lives, Gemma's, Gabriel's, Adrian's and hell even her own. The crack in her voice wield daggers into his chest. She’s contemplating Gael’s offer like it’s any good. Did Adrian’s warning go in and out of her ears? Don’t let Gael in, under any circumstances. One threat on Adrian’s life and she starts to fold. “Don’t fucking do it, Morg,” Adrian snarls under his breath, still wrestling under Gael’s grip, but it goes unheard seemingly by both parties. Death would have been kinder than whatever this fucked up reunion has left in store.

With one invitation, the veil is shattered, and the Moss home is no longer safe but another piece of collateral damage in Adrian’s wrongdoings. His relationship with his son, his relationship with his daughter, his marriage, ah, the Castillo-Fiori home and now Morgan’ home. All destroyed in the name of righteousness.

Was it worth it? Was it worth it? Was it worth it? has been booming in his mind all night with no ceasefire in sight.

When Gael runs into the house, Adrian is left on the porch, trying to catch his breath from the ordeal. Heavy in, heavy out are the breaths that filter through his body. With defeated, sad, brown eyes, Adrian hangs a look at Morgan.

“You… should’ve… called his bluff…” Adrian says breathlessly. And if Gael wasn’t bluffing? Hell, that would’ve been okay. What better way to die than to die protecting the ones you love?

@gabrielismss

[sclviagant]

♫ - adrian + gemma (family ofc)

Send me a ♫ + a character/ship and I’ll tell you three songs I’d put on their playlist.

Time - Pink Floyd

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking Racing around to come up behind you again Sun is the same, in a relative way, but you're older Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold And she's buying a stairway to Heaven

When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed With a word she can get what she came for

Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to Heaven

There's a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure 'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings

In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven

Ooh, it makes me wonder Ooh, makes me wonder

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood - The Animals

Baby, you understand me now If sometimes you see that I'm mad Don't you know, no one alive can always be an angel? When everything goes wrong, you see some bad But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good Oh, Lord,  please don't let me be misunderstood

@gemmaismss

[sclviagant]

♫ Adrian + Gael

Send me a ♫ + a character/ship and I’ll tell you three songs I’d put on their playlist.

I Want You (She's So Heavy) - The Beatles

I want you I want you so bad I want you I want you so bad It's driving me mad It's driving me mad

Piece of My Heart - Janis Joplin, Big Brother & The Holding Company

I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it Take another little piece of my heart now, baby Oh, oh, break it Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Oh, oh, have a Have another little piece of my heart now, baby Well you know you got it, if it makes you feel good Oh, yes indeed

Babe I'm Going to Leave You - Led Zeppelin

Babe

Baby, baby, I'm gonna leave you

I said "baby"

You know I'm gonna leave you

I'll leave you when the summertime Leave you when the summer comes a rollin' Leave you when the summer comes along

@ofreardcns

[gemmaismss]

In her nearly twenty-four years of existence, and twenty something under his care, Gemma has never seen her father take a drink of alcohol. The man owns a bar and has a particularly violent profession - and yet as far as she can remember, Adrian has never had a drink. A chill runs down her spine, more than the wind and the rain and the fear, this was uncharted territory. Gemma takes another swallow of her wine, pulling her knees up to her chest as she starts to tremble ( with fear or cold she won’t admit ) atop the bar.

Define it.

It's a command more than a question, and she’s never been an obedient daughter. But it's also an opening – and invitation. He may have let her inside out of a misplaced sense of parental affection, but there’s no mandate that he carry on a conversation with her – so she will take each and every opportunity given.

“No and like that’s the question isn’t it? Defining it?” Gemma sips her wine, “And it's super important because I don’t know how long you’re going to tolerate me being here, so I don’t know how many questions I get to ask.” A pointed look, another sip. “So I should just dive right in with ‘why’d you kill my dad?’ but then that question is really – why’d you make Gabriel kill him? Were you too cowardly to do it yourself? Was it some kind of profoundly cruel hazing ritual?” She lobs these accusations with an air of negligence, nursing the bottle of wine and flexing her fingers such to work the feeling back into them.

“But then because I’m me, and a wholly self-centered creature – I have to ask. Why was I never good enough for you? And I don’t mean like all the technical hunter bullshit, I mean like why was I, Gemma, the whole person and your daughter, never good enough?”

[sclviagant]

Adrian is expecting the heavy hit from his daughter as you rarely see the words Gemma and mercy paired in the same sentence. She's allowed to have these questions, she's allowed to ask them too. Most importantly, she deserves answers.

It doesn't keep the knife from diving into his chest. It doesn't keep the blood from seeping out the wound. It doesn't make him feel any less hollow than to hear those words come out of her mouth. For the most part, this is an internal battle. His hints of pain are reflected by the way his eyes, nearly black now, narrow at the sight of her, the way his lips press into a thin line, by the way he slams down another shot.

"You know who I am, Gems." Rain slams down against the thin roof of Sweetwater, as Adrian swallows the whiskey. "Gabriel knows who I am. Gael, your dad, knew too, he knew better than anyone." The past tense is purposeful because Gael doesn't know who Adrian is anymore. He wasn't the only one who died that night.

"Say what you want about me, but never have I pretended to be someone or something I wasn't. Whatever gene that liars have to make it so easy for them to lie, I didn't get. Gael, though?" He shakes his head, followed with a bitter scoff. "I bet you that he came out of the womb bullshitting the nurses."

Thunder rumbles above them.

"Everyday, everyday for twenty something years, he looked me dead in the eye and he lied to me." For the past two years, Adrian's held a magnifying glass to every memory he had with his late husband. With a fine-toothed comb, he picked through everything, to find any hint of falsity. The truly fucked up part of it all, it was indistinguishable, he couldn't tell. Love and lies, they blurred.

Would Adrian ever truly know what was real and what wasn't?

"I'm not saying that being a liar means you deserve a death sentence." Adrian continues. "Lying about being....." The sentence goes unfinished, he doesn't need to say the word. They both know already. "Putting my family in harm's way...." his voice trails off again. "That does."

Here comes the part of the conversation Adrian was hoping to avoid all together. He sighs as if to buy more time to put his thoughts together. "I always knew about you, Gems," he finally says. "Not for sure, but I'm not an idiot. One witch plus another witch equals....." He gestures his hands in the direction of the only witch standing in the room. "Chances were good it was going to be you or Gabriel, if not both. But I always had my money on you."

[sclviagant]

Smash or Pass for Adrian: Vincent.

     𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃   "  𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇   𝐎𝐑   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒  “   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐌𝐘   𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐓𝐎   𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑   𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘   𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.   𝐍𝐎   𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃  .

Adrian's face hardens. He stares with a look in his eyes that screams, why the fuck would you ask me that? "Pass."

@death-becomes-him

[sclviagant]

⚡️ what is your biggest regret?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY

"This didn't have to be my life. I was thrown into the Brotherhood, I didn't choose it. Not at first. On my eighteenth birthday, I could've said fuck this and do something else. Anything else. I could've lived a goddamn normal life. I wouldn't've met Gael, I wouldn't have found the twins, I wouldn't've had a family, but fucking shit, look how that turned out.

"I should have never quit playing in my band. We could've gone far."

[sclviagant]

⚡️ - Which child are you most proud of?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY

"Neither."

@gabrielismss @gemmaismss

[sclviagant]

⚡️ - Do you think that Rose could become the Hunter she once was, again?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY

"Yes, she could. She has to want it bad enough. Potential won't do shit for someone unless they have tenacity along with it. Does Rose have the drive?" Adrian sighs. "Don't know. Only time will tell."

@rosexhalstead

[rosexhalstead]

Another flaw of hers -- apologizing too much. Rose always felt as if things were her fault and for the most part, it was. She'd let herself become weak. She'd left home after Reid disappeared, throwing herself into her studies and now, she was a Professor. Her parents had been as supportive as they could be and had expressed to her that they were glad she stopped hunting. They had, too, after Reid. But leaving had caused her to forget a lot of her training. She'd become complacent, which had caused her to fall into situations that she wouldn't have normally been in.

She gripped a stake in her hand, aimed, and threw it at the dummy. It flew across the room and then missed by a foot to the right, colliding into the wall behind it. Her jaw clenched and she ran her hands over her face in frustration.

"What if I can't?" Rose asked as she glanced towards Adrian. "What if this is all I'll ever be able to do?" Negativity about herself had consumed her life. She was a good Professor. She was smart. But she was no longer good enough to survive in Port Leiry.

She blew out a breath, the strands of hair that had fallen out of her messy bun lifting up and around her face. She grabbed another stake, glared at the target, and threw it. This time, her throw was faster, placing more momentum on the wooden stake. It hit the dummy in the left thigh, just above the knee.

[sclviagant]

Self doubt is deadly in their business, he has no interested of entertaining these echoes in her head. "If you can't," Adrian says, his words are slow and sturdy. "If this is all you'll be able to do, then you're dead." If she was, what use would she be to the Brotherhood? They had enough dead soldiers.

Rose isn't. Not yet. Sure, she's floundering, practically flapping her fins around like a desperate fish pulled out of water. Isn't that what this life is? Humans being pulled out of the safety of their world and thrown into another, one full of monsters and devils, and the humans try to beat them at their own game.

Some are better at evolving into this world than others.

Her skills are there, imbedded into her muscle and her memory, but she's got to dust them off and make them new. She runs the play again, this time, she's quicker. She's more determined. She's improving, but it's not perfect.

Nine thousand hours to go.

Adrian claps like a proud coach after an interception, but that's the only form of praise she'll get from him on this one. "Okay, okay," he comments, "Let's run it again. This time, go for the heart." He hands Rose a stake. "A stake in the thigh will wound them for a second. One second until the pull it out and they recon in two seconds." Rose knows this, he knows she knows this, but Adrian says it anyway. Typical mansplainer.

[gabrielismss]

        “ no, i’m good. ”  he almost tacks on a no, thank you to the utterance, but instead leaves it behind. and he is good. there’s enough adrenaline now, misplaced excitement to carry him through. really, it’s anxiety masked as excitement, but if he wasn’t nervous, that would be another problem on its own. anyway, gabriel’s older now, he’s not so content with being given none of the information on the way to the hunt. he’s perfectly capable, and he hunts on his own, now. he finds the internal frustration petulant, like he has to prove himself to the man that taught him how but- gabriel swallows it all, buckles the seatbelt and rolls his shoulders back. nothing up there’s any use to him, not now.

        as they pull out of the driveway, gabriel shoots off a brief, vague text to gemma about going out for a while. she sends back a picture of her at a party and gabriel’s brow furrows, begins rapidly texting back a series of questions regarding where she is, who she’s with, when she’s coming home. neither of them are all that eager to share, it seems. he powers the phone off, completely.

         it doesn’t surprise him to hear it’s a long drive, necessarily, but it does intrigue him.  “ will we get there while it’s still dark? ”  would give him a huge clue to who they’re hunting, maybe where they’re going.

[sclviagant]

Adrian doesn't bother telling what Gabriel what to do. His son isn't a boy, he's a man, and has been for sometime now. You lose your final drop of innocence when your parent dies, you go into the negative when its your hand that puts him there.

He has regrets about that night, of course he does, Adrian isn't a monster. Cold? Maybe. Heartless? In some instances. Not a monster. He doesn't hunt for pleasure. He doesn't hunt for sport even. He hunts with purpose. Gael's hunt was no exception.

Though getting Gabriel involved in that night was a parenting flaw, if there ever was one. He was supposed to be back up, and hell, Gabriel was. If Adrian had involved anyone else besides Gabe, they'd ask too many questions. Who? What? How? Why? Gabe, the perfect soldier, didn't wonder. He made a choice and followed through with it.

Adrian's never let the angelic, golden exterior fool him; there is a german shepherd underneath all that golden retriever fluff.

"We'll hit Seattle after sunrise," Adrian tells Gabriel. It's an extra twelve hours in the city, but it gives the entire day to plan. To map the city and hotspots accordingly. To kill the fanged fuckers by midnight and be back on the road tomorrow morning. To return back to their home in Port Leiry, not feeling any less hollow.