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@seeingvivianne
“I don’t mind playing someone’s girlfriend or wife if I have something to say, if I bring something to the picture, if I can be strong and powerful and say smart things. If not. then it’s just boring.”
Happy Birthday to Ana Celia de Armas Caso (April 30, 1988)
Ana de Armas as Paloma.
No Time to Die - 007 (2021).
ana de armas in the night clerk
Ana de Armas for American Way/Nexos Magazine, April 2020
— since our story is a crime itself | g.f.
You can always go back to the place where you were comfortable, the place where you’re from.
August's head moved back and struck the wall, it resounded with a steady thump before he repeated the motion. "Not her- no-" August's head struck the wall again, harder this time. "Him." He repeated this again and then again as the single syllable resounded from his lips. August had walked through the trenches of the Abyss, and wandered deeper than any other dared to sink his sinewy hands in the most base defilement that magic could offer. Madness was the price for power, the more of yourself you gave, the more of a husk you became, and August had emptied himself for what he wanted most. He'd heard the rattle of the dragon's laughter and took a knee before the effigy of devotion. August could hear him again and he struck his head against the walls, it felt like there were scales crawling under his veins as the witch's eyes opened to tears staining his cheeks. Peace? Safety? There was no such thing, there was no moving on, and there was no hope for those who'd sold their souls to the Devil. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him! HIM! HIM! HIM! HIM! HIM!
A light was blinking overhead but all August could hear were sirens, the cries of elvish children, and the taste of their meat and ire between his teeth. He could feel the grinding of his own bones together as the former necromancer's ears screamed in protest; August struck his head again and again until it felt wet and damp at his neck until either sweat or ichor crawled down the plains of his back and the staff were hauling him and restraining him, binding him down before he began to drift. Still in the flames that encircled him, bleary-eyed and desolate the man's dark hues fixated upon Vivianne, as absent as they had been that night in the Dahlia's basement. Still, it was August who spoke before he was sedated. "From beneath you, He devours."
The first time his head struck the wall, Vivianne regretted ever speaking. "Okay," she said quickly, placatingly, once more her hand raising. "Okay. Him..." She didn't know what the hell August was talking about but as long as he didn't get upset enough to hurt himself- "Got it. Look I-" Him. Him. Him. Him. August repeated it, low at first but louder and more frantic with every second and Vivianne's eyes widened. "August-" She stood up, attempting to approach and calm him. Vivianne's first instinct was to reach out and gently touch his shoulder but she froze before she could, realizing it might only serve to see things from him that she should not be seeing. "August, it's okay." Then louder, more insistent when he didn't stop: "August."
By then, the staff had heard the commotion and many rushed into the room. One of the technicians pulled the spartoi away by her shoulders and said something about standing back but Vivianne could hardly hear as they took hold of August brutishly, her heart breaking while she watched them take out a needle to sedate him. But before his eyes shut, August said the sort of thing that only some of the Oracle's worst dreams might have conjured up: From beneath you, He devours. Ominous, terrifying and words not offered to her by the Graeae but by her own, raging brother. She'd go home but neither Michael nor Alastor or even another living soul would hear of this because somehow the best case scenario would end up being that her own brother was simply insane. There was no winning that.
END.
"Would you look at that." Rhetorically stated as he looked towards the light that buzzed on the ceiling above, he didn't blink until it started to burn and only then did August draw his obsidian irises away from it so he could fixate on Vivianne once again. "Sovereign." Of all the things he might have counted on, the Alstroemeria Coven ever having a sovereign - ever having anything again - wasn't one of them. In those first few months in Rome him and Emory had broken in, the old wards still let him through and he'd watched for a break in the marshals that had been posted. Watched for weeks, that was how he'd met Eren; it all came back to that house that had felt more like a crypt when he'd walked through it. Defiled by unspeakable darkness in the months after the Asphodel claimed it, then wiped clean of anything after Theneras's explosives went off.
Now Yurena stood within, building from nothing and beginning anew.
"They'll come for her, Yurena, Lucretia-" they were traitors, "they aren't safe, and they aren't free." August thought it was important to make it very clear that whatever compulsion had lived on their shoulders under the Necronomicon, it persisted still. "You are not safe." The Oracle and the leader of the Dahlia, his blood relative, it was only a matter of time before they came for her again. Before they came for everyone. Dark eyes blazed momentarily wild, "He will not stop, he will never stop." At some point August had started tapping his foot, the rhythm was followed by the fervent press of his finger against his wrist as he blinked a few more times between moments than was necessary. His pulse feathered before he took a breath and tried to steady it himself.
Oookay, said a part of her, but it was void of any humour as now she only had a sudden desire to placate August and immediately put out whatever it was that inflamed him. But then, at the same time, there was another pang of relief in her at the sight. Life. He had energy, he had passion still. Medication in places like these had always worried Vivianne but it hadn't made him into a lifeless void. The paradox of these differing emotions hit her but all that could be seen was her slight shock and concern as she turned and shook her head, a hand coming up slightly in a placating gesture.
"August... she's fine. Her wards are up and strong, I sensed them myself. The Senate is rebuilt, stronger than before and its her ally now. Lucretia..." It took Vivianne a moment to recall that that was the name of the young druid who'd become a dragon. "She's under the protection of the Pyramid now. Even Bastien is walking about, I had a chat with him at The Fates. The Asphodel's crumbled. Those that turned their backs on it are trying to move on in peace... There is peace. And I am okay too. I'm-" She didn't want to aggravate him much further, didn't want to shove alarming news on his already fragile mind. But before she could decide what to say about herself, her mind backtracked to something August had said which had escaped her notice in her worry. "He? Did you mean Pythia?" Had she taken on a male form? "Pythia is hardly a concern anymore, they cannot rise against even a few seraphim without the Necronomicon."
"Vivianne." August sighed as the other rambled on, there was nothing in him left that could pick up on any changes of the other, it wasn't like he got the news in here and gossip didn't float around as freely as you might think. If August even cared to listen, as far as he knew, Vivianne was still a witch, she was still a sovereign, and she was still a senator. "They don't allow outside food." Just stop was written between the lines of what he was saying, besides, she knew the rules just as well as he did. Instead he just changed the subject because if there was something that Vivianne could give him then some peace of mind was a good start. "I've been reading, mostly. How's Yurena?" She hadn't come to see him and Augudst didn't blame her, he didn't want to see himself either but in here there was nothing but time for self-reflection.
She could read it in his tone the: just stop. And Vivianne would have liked nothing more than to stop and to speak instead as though she knew what to say to him but she didn't. And, at the very same time, she didn't want to leave. It looked at those she were on the verge of tears for just a moment, but Vivianne collected herself quickly when it was only the relief overcoming her of just hearing his voice. Every time August spoke, every time Vivianne heard his voice, she felt such a swell of relief and joy that was almost incomparable. Only seeing Michael alive again and the rest of her coven well could compare.
The question he posed made her turn away, subconsciously hiding her face as it fell. "She's a Sovereign," Vivianne replied carefully, schooling her face into a look of neutrality as she gazed back at August. That he showed care was a good sign but somehow all she felt was sorrow. "Yurena Alstroemeria now. A Senator as well. She's healthy." Vivianne sat up against his table. "I went to see her one evening and she's taken to her new responsibilities. There no one else yet in the coven but I think it would do her well to just... worry about herself for a bit."
Person: @seeingvivianne Location: Local Market "Do you know I almost rolled back up to the Dahlia house?" Bebe doesn't waste any time, sees the once witch dealing looking over trinkets and she cocks her head. She's no longer a witch, there's something about it that feels almost inherently wrong. But also painfully fitting that both her and August were no longer with the usual magic. There's this sting in her chest that she's come to know now is real anxiety that everything around her is changing so much in so little time. Aloof she might be on the outside, but there's this uncertainty about the future within her now more than ever.
Vivianne was in the process of wondering if Michael would mind her replacing his old cutlery with something newer and less stained, admiring the collection of the silver on display when she heard the familiar voice. The spartoi turned, expression immediately brightening at the sight of Bebe. "Oh gods, I've been so worried." She didn't waste any time, the former witch having once been and always very physically affectionate. She found herself moving to embrace the demon she hadn't seen since before the war.
"How are you?" She asked, whether or not her affection was accepted. "Where have you been?"
Her gaze sweeps Vivianne's visage and she sees what has always been there, a sincerity and a earnest effort to do right. A beat of silence as she allows Vivianne's vows to settle and she can't help the curiosity that plagues her. "What's next for you?" She can't imagine a day where she's no longer a witch and she always assumed the same for Vivianne. They both shared a intense devotion to the witches of the city and Hazal has lost much but still so much life remains and at times her heart aches for those who have filled the Amaranthus estate and for the miracle that she's not alone in all this.
What's next for you? That was a scary question and Vivianne had spent many a restless night thinking it through, fearful and eager all at once. But the fear was being slowly tempered, overshadowed by the hope and the promise of something new and exciting with those that she loved. So the spartoi smiled wide and shrugged a single shoulder. "Only Fate knows." Vivianne moved her seat back a bit to prepare to stand. "But I intend to make the best of it." And, in every sense, it seemed the former Sovereign was looking forward to it all.
"I can't thank you enough for seeing me, Hazal, and for the coffee... We'll be in touch, right? For now just find me by phone - I'm looking into buying a new house and I'm actually going to a few open houses this afternoon."
"I'm not a witch either." It's spoken like a hushed confession but there is a heavier meaning behind it, she's been buried in a grave twice -- once by their Sovereign and again alive. It was a ritual that brought back her humanity but it didn't dissolve her monstrosity, she was still a terror and she still had a deep hunger inside of her for awful things -- for magic and flesh. Losing her mind helped absolve her guilt, her understanding and the consequences of her hunger felt as if it was a far-away dream, hazy and untouchable and now she had to face it in the light of the day and she felt as if the wound would always be raw. "I don't know how to have a future when death lies before me and I've already swallowed dirt from the grave. I want you in my life as you are but I wouldn't hold you to the same fate."
She knew; Vivianne could sense the ghoul that Aelia was but her friend likely knew that. They were bonding words and Vivianne would take them as such, holding them close to her heart. Two former witches that could move on from what they were but not who they were. "I think we all have that moment where we don't know what we're going to do with our future. The knowing comes with time." She smiled brightly. Vivianne knew the nature of a ghoul was frightening, enough that they were called Terrors - but there was will and humanity in Aelia's eyes and she had always been a kind soul in life. They would find a way to make due with their differences if they both wanted to, and it seemed they truly did. "And we won't be alone. That's settled then... Dahlia sisters once, Dahlia sisters for an eternity. Deal?"
It wasn't something she wanted to talk about. At least, she didn't think so. Though, perhaps all it took was being asked. Looking down at the photograph of the two of them; everything seemed so much simpler. Even if, neither nephilim nor former sovereign had ever known the ease of simplicity. Looks were always deceitful, and in that moment, Serissa wished she deceived as well as she breathed. "I don't wanna' sound totally cunty," queue the cunty comment, "but Azrael left by choice." And though she'd spent years without knowing the truth of her bloodline, she'd also spent each one of those standing by as her best friend suffered just the same. "I don't.. -- you know what I mean." Did she? It felt like a weight slipping from her shoulders to dig deeper into her ribs and though she approaches the desk, Serissa knows she can't sit still long enough to join Vivianne. Instead, she picks, fingernails digging at grooves in the wood, knuckles tapping nervous energy away by the second. "I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter, he wasn't around and when he was, it wasn't enough for him to stick around... -- And I still have Pa, so it's just... It's whatever, right?" Whatever, that someone she'd sought after for so long had looked her in the face, openly claimed her as his daughter, and still... turned his back and left her with every memory of the years that'd passed during the end. "I always thought knowing would help me feel less alone."
"It isn't whatever," she said softly, her smile sad and wry. "Maybe, with time, it might feel a little more like that. But... for the time being, it's like losing that hopeful, child-like part of you that saw the possibility of a future with someone else who was loving, accepting and important. And you didn't get that. At least... I know that's how I felt when I realized I could never bond with my real father." Her head tilted slightly. "We'll never really know exactly what went on in Azrael's mind when he left, but I can't imagine he wouldn't have felt at least a little proud to have a daughter like you keep up his legacy in this world."
"Yeah, that's the trick." Eat well, work out, show up for work, look like he had everything together. It'd been something he'd been so used to for years. Appearances had meant everything in the smaller part of Aurora, to the locals anyways. Nobody could ever be allowed to ask questions, he was always 'doing just fine'. But Emory doesn't dwell on it, his own inside joke and instead he wants to focus on her, he wants to know how she's doing, if she's alright. "You do, too though. Not like I expected anything else, but I just thought...." Pausing in pulling a couple of weeds, broad shoulders raise in a shrug. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Thought I'd a bit more disconcerted? Disheartened?" Her smile is more wry. "I definitely understand. But all things considered, I couldn't have asked for a better end to a chapter of mine... There's a lot I could have lost that I didn't." She patted down some soil. "Enough things go wrong in your life, you start to look at what went right and you focus on that. Perfectionism can drive someone insane." Her tone was pensive and her eyes were a bit faraway at the thought but she didn't elaborate. Her smile mended itself into something more light-hearted as she looked to Emory and passed him a hand shovel. "What about you? A lot has changed in your life, Emory... I don't have to be privy to all the details to know it's true."
as an empath i sense you are haunted by themes and narratives
"You're good for him." Nate says it without really thinking any further on it and it hangs there in the air between them. Vivianne sits there across from them with her soft smiles and warm eyes and she is so happy. There's all this warmth that practically radiates off of her and they wish she'd been around when they were just a kid, they really do. To the point where he almost voices that. I wish we'd have time for you to be my mother. "It's funny because there's me and him, and there's him and you, and then there's him and I." He ticks off the three options on his fingers and can't help but think the two divine were totally different people than they were around her. Nathaniel relaxes more around her than their father, they know that for certain. "That being said, I don't think.....Things between he and I probably look weird on the outside." And he hopes she gets that, he doesn't know how to explain in a way that's entirely normal, he's never known how to do that. "Like we've never really been 'father' and 'son'."
No parent was perfect but it wasn't her place to tell them they'd been lucky in her eyes. While she understood what it was to be raised under someone that felt more like a General than a father, there was an enormous difference between the men who raised them. Still, it would be presumptuous to insert herself into a parent-child relationship when the child in question had all grown up. Not when she'd never fully know Nate's story. So Vivianne took them for their word, smiling sheepishly. "It's not weird to me at all," she admitted. "Some people don't know how to be typical parents... some people don't know how to love their children. My father was both but Michael..." She smiled, "He certainly loves you with his whole being. I can see it. It's why-" Vivianne cut herself off nervously, not having come into this lunch with the intention of sharing details of a hopefully growing family yet. "Well, it's one reason I came to love him," she amended. "But are you happy with the ways things are? With him and you?"
