where there's smoke

stella pryce , 23 , human not just a waitress

[stellapryce]

Break Me

[stella and @turncoatsilver being angsty]

There had been something different about Isabella. The past few weeks, about since she had gotten back, the woman just seemed not herself. Less confident, less assured in her disinterest. At first, for a long while, Stella didn’t mention it. Didn’t bring it up. Because she knew how Isabella operated and she knew that she wouldn’t want Stella poking around and digging into her life. But finally, Stella realized that this wasn’t the same Isabella.

Something had changed. So her approach could change as well.

It was a dreary Thursday that it finally came to her. Thunder hanging low overhead and most everyone cloistered inside their houses. Except Stella and Isabella, the only two in the Big Apple. Heading over with a pot of coffee, Stella wore a determined look. “Need a top off?” she asked with a soft smile.

Isabella looked up like she didn’t know who Stella was at first. A moment passed before she nodded. Murmured a thanks as the mug filled. There were no notebooks in front of her. She wasn’t furiously scribbling.

Stella took in a deep breath and then set the pot down. Dropping into the bench across from Isabella, she turned the second mug over and filled it. Took a long sip, eyes watching Isabella just over the rim. The other woman looked at her with incredulity. Stella just barreled through it.

“Tell me how you’ve been.” Stella said, letting the mug clink against the table.

To her pleasant surprise, Isabella opened her mouth and she did. 

[stellapryce]

value me <:

[stella telling @praenuntius how she feels about him]

They were sitting shoulder-to-shoulder behind the counter of the diner. It reminded Stella of being seven and building a fort with her first foster brother. Safe and hidden and small. Big enough for just the two of them and their milkshakes. Stella smiled into her straw, stirring the drink a little. Her eyes danced over to the side, peering at Elijah’s face.

He seemed to be enjoying himself but she could never tell with him. He was such an enigma to her, entirely unreadable. But she had to admit that she liked that. She liked having to rely on the communication. Learning to wait and hear the facts directly from him -- it was a hard lesson but one well-needed. 

“Hey, so.” She took in a deep inhale. Communication went both ways, after all. Looking up from her milkshake, she found his eyes. Held his strangely penetrating gaze. “I just... I felt like you should know. Or maybe, just, I want you to know. That you’re...important to me.” She swallowed thickly, frustrated with herself. It hadn’t come out how she wanted it to, how she meant it. 

Taking in a breath, she tried again. “You’re important to me and I’m glad that I get to know you. Be around you. You’ve....taught me a real lot, and not just with the books and all. I’m...” She licked her lips uncertainly, but forced herself to keep her eyes on his. “I’m a better person because of you. That’s what I mean.”

A blush was blooming along her cheeks and over her nose. Returning to her milkshake hastily, Stella thought fuck it and dropped her hands over his.

[babustyles]

[stellapryce]

Fight Me

[stella fighting with/or against @possessedclaire] 

Stella knew her grip on the girl’s head was likely painful, but she didn’t let up. Couldn’t. Her forehead was pressed into Claire’s, eyes locked on hers. “C’mon, Claire,” she begged through grit teeth. “Claire. Come on, honey. I believe in you. I believe in you. Because I know it’s you in there.” They were kneeling just past the fence, dirt digging into their knees. But Stella took no notice to that.

She took no notice of anything beyond the woman in front of her. The woman with a scream all tangled in her throat. She could tell Claire was in horrible pain, bracing against her own mind. She couldn’t imagine how incredibly difficult it was. There was a strength in Claire that Stella could never even begin to achieve.

“You are stronger than that thing, baby,” she promised the girl. “Look at me. Listen to me. I know you. I know what you’re capable of. And you can do this. You can beat this thing.” Tears perched at her eyes, spilling over easily. From fear, from hope, from tense concentration. She wouldn’t let Claire down, wouldn’t let her go. Wouldn’t let he face this on her own. No. They were in this together. Stella would see it through to the end.

And she would be standing with Claire when it was all over. Not a demon. Claire, the human girl.

[stellapryce]

Nurse Me!

[stella healing @h-gilmore; tw for self-harm & blood mentions]

She had all but broken down the bathroom door when she heard Holly crying from behind it. Not loudly -- quite the opposite actually. Like she was muffling it into a towel or something. That worried Stella even more, to be honest. If she hadn’t been checking on Holly, hadn’t been listening for it, she might never had known.

What she found was Holly curled up between the wall and the toilet, cramped into the tiny space. Bloody footprints trailed from the tub to where she sat. Briefly, she caught sight of the shimmer of light reflecting -- a straight razor. “Oh Holly, baby,” she hummed. Gingerly, she stepped over to the younger girl, licking her lips. “Can... Is it okay if I touch you?” Taking the shallow nod as an affirmation, Stella rubbed her hand over Holly’s back.

After a moment of just silent comfort, Stella went to work. Filled the sink with cool water and soaked a washcloth. Wiped down the neat hash marks over Holly’s thighs. Somewhere in the cupboard she found hydrogen peroxide and cotton pads. Her touch was slow, warning the girl each time before making contact. The cuts were shallow (thank god) but the ran criss-cross over delicate, white lace scars. Remnants of past sessions -- it made Stella’s stomach turn.

How long had Holly been living with this?

Once there was a gauze pad taped into place and Stella was satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, she helped Holly up. Led her into her room and settled her into bed. Got her a glass of water and then, after asking hopefully if it was okay, climbed into bed with her. She looped her arms over Holly’s shoulders and held her close, fingers carding through her yellow hair. “It’s all right, honey bee. I got you now. Okay? I got you. You’re all right.” She hummed soft reassurances until she heard Holly’s breathing even out, calm down.

[possessedclaire-blog]

You should worry. Words thought, but not uttered, airing on the side of caution - mind whirling as she wondered how was best to proceed. Stella. The name came to her as she met her eyes, turning the information she possessed in her mind, as little of it as it was. Prisoner. There had been whisperings about a human prisoner as she arrived, a girl trapped and dragged by a man named Alastair, used as a pawn. Even when her presence had simply been rumours alone, her heart had gone out for the girl, her rage too. If she had been in control of her own mind, she might have tried to help her. But instead, she had been powerless to watch. The night of her escape was a blur in her mind - her outcome uncertain, but now, it became clear that she had, indeed, managed to get away. That was enough to make her smile. But she didn’t.

“I have a pretty good guess.” A unique insight, you could say. Leviathan took pride in showing off her new exhibits to them, protruding and probing, veins set on fire by the possibilities of mutilation. It was clear, that in time, she and Isaac would not be lone exhibits, simply larger members of what Leviathan probably thought as a master race. “I know. I mean, I heard things. Good things.” Something, a deeper instinct, the girl who was more wolf than girl, told her that Stella was a warrior too. Perhaps she fought without a gun or sword, but their battles were one and the same, waging against an all consuming war. Once, she might have called Stella comrade, but these were not those days. “I’m Claire.” A shadow smile glimmered on her lips. “The new girl.” As she spoke, she knew with a certainty that she was. I am Claire, but for how long?

[stellapryce]

A pretty good guess. Stella couldn’t tell what that meant. Either she knew exactly what they were doing or she really could only hazard a best guess. But information was information. And Claire was in with the demons at least, so her best guess would likely be better than anyone else’s. “Share with the class?” she asked, voice lilting casually. She didn’t want to appear too eager. Wanting too much never seemed to end up well for Stella.

Her eyebrows went up to know that Claire had heard things. How interesting. That she was worth conversation. And good things. “Really? Can’t imagine who’d be saying good things about me over there.” Claire. That was the name of what the demons had just called the experiment. “Right,” she said with a chuckle. “Can’t say the same for you. No good things. Mostly just questions.” The demons were all whispers when it had come to the new arrivals and the angels were all curious. Dreadfully curious about the boy in Solitary, the two women in Lucifer’s manor.

“Is this your first time in Paradise?” She knew how strange it was, to be a human among angels and demons. Although, she supposed she and Claire were different. Stella had no clue just how Claire was an “experiment.” Whatever it was, though, she was still human. She belonged with the humans. She belonged on Stella’s side -- in Paradise.

[stellapryce]

Drabble Me

Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer your up.

Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day,feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours[as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to

Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Quite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock [be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours, feel free to specify.]

Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]

Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]

Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]

[praenuntius-blog1]

Elijah felt calm wash over him, his anxiety plummeting at the soft smile the human - human, so no cause for concern - offered him. “Humans aren’t ‘just’ anything, if I’m to be truthful. They have so much potential.” Of course Elijah knew that potential can just as easily be used for a positive impact as a negative one, but he had hope for these humans.

“I’m not much of the type to kick and scream,” he said, following her line of sight. Elijah was telling the truth. He much preferred to default in matters of violence than fight. If you got into a verbal argument with him, however, he was one to debate until he either ran out of air or educated the person he was arguing with. But that is constructive, he thought, discussion is vital to the process of learning.

He reached out his thin fingers to touch the gilded piece again. “Yes. It’s very lavish.” A smile, small and a bit nervous, twitched the corners of his mouth. “Almost gaudy, if I may say so.”

She fussed with her dress - a very pretty dress; suited its wearer if Elijah would allow himself to think so - and introduced herself. He followed suit. “Elijah.” His eyes flicked down at the hem of her dress when there was a flash of flesh instead of shoe. A smile spread across his face as he spoke again, feeling adventurous. “You seem to have lost your footwear… did they not match the finery of your dress?” He looked up from the floor but still looked a few inches below level. He took a guess that she’d been wearing heels of some sort. “Was the height they were giving you not desired?”

Elijah let out a small laugh, just a puff of one on the exhale. “Sorry, that was a bad joke.” He hesitantly reached out to gently rest a hand on Stella’s bare upper arm. “Do you want to explore more?” Elijah knew they weren’t going to evade capture forever - that just wasn’t the style of the demons - but that didn’t mean the two of them couldn’t root around Lucifer’s home in the meantime.

[stellapryce]

She grinned immediately to him. “Well, I’m not really the type to drag so that works out well,” she joked back. He looked so thoughtful. Stella immediately wondered how old he was. He seemed to hold something in him that was older. But then, Abel didn’t seem a day over twenty or so and he was... Older than she could fathom. It was entirely possible that this angel wasn’t much older than she was herself. 

Her eyes trailed along the golden flakes and she smirked. “I agree. But then again, I grew up in some pretty crappy places, so maybe I’m just not used to the finery of how the other half lives.” She shrugged, eyes flitting up the wall. There was an awful lot, though. Even if it was more toned down, the sheer quantity of adornments was overwhelming. Lucifer liked his stuff, that much was obvious. A petty streak in Stella flared to life and she wanted to tear the draperies, scratch the paintings, break the fine china. Anything, anything, to take from him. But she knew that would be a useless act.

“Elijah,” she repeated. Well, if she was meant to believe Abel and the other angels, if he really was an angel of Heaven... She tried to remember the bible story that corresponded. Elijah... Something with idols and false gods, she thought. And he was a prophet. Stella wondered if this Elijah could tell the future, tell their odds of getting out of here alive.

The mention of her shoes, his “bad joke,” made her laugh all the same. “No, they were just fucking painful. And came more in handy as a decoy.” She smiled, remembering how she had dropped them outside a random door, hoping to trick the demons. She had no idea if it had worked, but it had been worth a shot. His hand on her arm didn’t make her jump or startle at all. Instead, it allowed her to let her shoulders drop. Her mind slipped to something at ease and she nodded to him. “I would.” They could explore and she could hope to find something worthwhile. It was nice to know that she wasn’t the only one whose sole plan wasn’t just escape. “Have you found anything of interest yet?”

[praenuntius-blog1]

September 3 Paradise, WA; Lucifer’s Manor 5:40 PM OPEN: all

He’d been hesitant to even leave the room that all the angels had been gathered in, but the thought of just staying made him more uncomfortable than he’d cared to bear.

Elijah found himself wandering the manor, drinking in the details of the building. Everything was so… ornate. Almost to the point of gaudiness, if Elijah were to be truthful. He didn’t have any intention of actually escaping. He didn’t know the layout of the manor, and he certainly wasn’t going to run around blind and potentially run into someone he didn’t want to. Of course, wandering around blind didn’t really lessen his chances of doing that either. It was more that he was operating on the hunch that, if he were just wandering and not looking like he was trying to escape, any demons that he had the misfortune to run into wouldn’t see him as a threat.

Wandering down the unnecessarily detailed hallway, ghosting his fingers over the things that caught his interest, Elijah was so absorbed in trying to memorize the details that he didn’t hear anyone coming up the hallway. When he’d clued in that the steps he was hearing were not his own, he jerked to face the oncoming person.

Retracting his hand as if he’d been burned by the gilded pieces. “I- I wasn’t… doing anything,” the lie stuttered out of his mouth, thoroughly unconvincing, and he looked wide eyed at the person he’d carelessly let find him.

[stellapryce]

With Abel sacrificing himself (straight into demons and all for her), Stella could only do her best to be sure his move wasn’t made in vain. She panned through books and papers, tossing volumes from the shelves and hoping that something of use, of interest, would appear. But there was nothing. It was a useless library. The books were just that: books. Some of them in different languages that Stella couldn’t read but there was nothing about Paradise. No mentions of Heaven or Hell or angels or humans or anything. 

She was sure her time was running out. Not wanting to waste any more of it, she surged out from the library. Frustration radiating off her in waves. The perfect wealth of information, and nothing.Back at square one. As she turned a corner, Stella made herself calm down, move carefully. Good luck that she had, too, as there was a person up ahead. She didn’t recognize them as another human so she was left to wonder.

No wings, but that meant nothing, apparently. Demons could hide them. The way he was moving though... It didn’t seem like he was hunting down escaped angels and humans. The way he was looking at the decor... With wonder and awe, as he had never seen it before. Stella was about to make her presence known, sure he was an angel, when he turned. His nervous declaration only ensured that she was correct. Another angel. The frustration she had felt just seconds ago vanished. Once more, something in his aura reached to her, calmed her. There was something more to him.

Just as stunning as Abel had been, as breathtaking as Susanna and Junia. There was something about the angels’ very presence, their being. Stella shook the stardust from her eyes. “It’s okay,” she reassured him, smiling softly. “I’m...just a human. I’m not here to drag you away kicking and screaming.” She turned to look at what he had been studying. “This place is so...lavish, isn’t it?” Looking back to him, she fussed with the hem of her dress, watched her bare feet peek out from beneath it. “I’m Stella.”

[dominicramsey-deactivated201707]

“No.” His response was definite and quick and raw and goddamn did he regret it. There was a problem, he hadn’t been alright for so long – he’d started to accept the conditions of it all, the fact that he might never get better. Nothing in paradise could stop his urges, could stop the hunger that he felt deep inside of him for something to stop the addiction. Maybe it was bad because he wanted coke, wanted it more than anything else in town. If he couldn’t get better then he’d just continue to wade into the darkness, continue his journey. 

I am stepped in blood so far that I should wade no more.

Dominic could hear her clearly, but he wasn’t sure that he believed that it all. He hadn’t been the one to save her, he hadn’t been the one to free her. All he had been was bait for the demons, someone for them to attack and focus on. He could still remember watching the hit that knocked him out connect. He’d been powerless to stop it and the very last thing he needed to be in this life was powerless. There had to be someway to make himself stronger, to make it easier to keep up with the demons. An indie formed in his and he tossed it around for a few moments.

Warm skin connected with his cheek and he leaned into the touch, something out of character. Did the root of his being upset revolve around Stella not being home? No. Did she have to know that? No. “Welcome home,” he says as he turns his head slightly to kiss the palm of her hand. “I’m happy that you’re safe.”

[stellapryce]

It was a stupid question to begin with. Of course he wasn’t okay -- everything that had happened, not to mention the mark on his door on top of it all? How could he even begin to be okay? How could any of them. “I know,” she answered softly, regretfully. He wasn’t okay and she couldn’t make him better. “I’m sorry.”

She reveled in the pressure of his lean, the brush of his lips. A gesture he had never made before. “Dom,” she said, aching. “I’m glad you are too.” If he wasn’t "okay,” at least he was safe. In Paradise with the rest of them. Swallowing, Stella let her hand drift to the back of his neck. Pulled closer to rest her head on his chest. Tucking her chin, she caught sight of the mottled purple over his knuckles, the blood spotted there. She took his hand gingerly, got a better look.

“Let me take you home,” it was a statement but her tone was begging him. “Okay?” Her thumb stroked at the soft underside of his hand. “I’ll fix you up. We can... We can spend the whole day in bed.” That’s more or less what Stella had been doing the past few days. It wouldn’t hurt to share it with Dominic. No. It might even help, she imagined. Having someone there, having him there. Maybe both of them could get a little bit better in the warmth of one another.

Stella pulled back and found his eyes. “Please, just say ‘yes,’ Dom.” She didn’t want to leave him. Couldn’t leave him on his own, like this.

[rowanofwar]

    Her words started then stopped, started then stopped once more. The incomplete thought was the obvious hint that no words could encapsulate her dissatisfaction with the events that had unfolded, with the changes that could never be undone. Even if they were, there would still be the memory. There would always be the memory. They would stain those who had been affected like the blood that stained the stones. In all her time she had never really seen what they were doing as taking from the humans. Who was to say that the humans were entitled to this? What made them anymore deserving than the demons – humans took from humans, did they not? They took and they grappled and the warred. This woman certainly had a spine if she thought that humans were the only ones who mattered. She was brash to think that they mattered at all. 

    “And it is yours?” Rowan queried, stepping closer. For once, she did not want to calm off as threatening or intimidating, but nothing could disguise the rather savage curiosity that glinted in her eyes. Her head cocked to the side in avid interest, lips parting the slightest bit in understanding. “You think we aren’t human? That we don’t know what it was like to feel the earth under our fingers and to know that it could be called mine?” Her face was an enigmatic mask as she sought some sort of semblance of understanding on the dark haired beauty’s face. 

    “Cheating?” She scoffed, brow raising in question. “I wasn’t aware that there were a set of rules to abide by. If so, please direct to them so I may read them over so thoroughly as to understand them as you obviously do.” So this was how she came to stand inches away from the other, her fingers itching for something that had yet to be defined. Arguments always put her in a state like this – simple debates enough to make her burn for some sort of satisfaction at proving her adversary wrong. There had been a time, not too long ago, when she would be overlooked – her silver tongue and cutting wit being the things that made her stand above the rest. But now everyone knew her taste for blood as well. 

    Did this human know her taste for blood too? Perhaps her boldness was proof enough that she didn’t.

[stellapryce]

“Yes,” she answered back immediately, words razor-sharp. It was her world, all of their world. All the humans. It was made for them, wasn’t it? In His image, or whatever the Bible wanted to claim. Stella didn’t look away, didn’t cower. This was the sole ground of her survival principle. The world was theirs. And she would gladly fight a demon for it. “New flash. You aren’t.” Nothing would sway her on that. “Not any more. You once were and I guess it’s the human soul that lives on in you. But the earth, the soil, the impulse. It doesn’t belong to you any longer. “You had your chance.”

She rolled her eyes at the literal interpretation. “Taking more than you deserve,” she rephrased. The demon was a mere breath away from her now but Stella didn’t waver. At least, she didn’t outwardly. Her stomach went watery, but through her fear, she knew she was right at least. That kept her on her feet. It was this idea that had fueled all her anger, after all. The angels and demons brought their war onto the human’s lands. They had decimated what they had no claim to. Dragged the humans into this war that they never asked to be a part of.

Stella wasn’t going to forgive that. 

[placeholdersea]

“That’s…reasonable, yeah,” Alastair answered with a smile that he hoped reassured her because if she saw fit to act out, he would be called to action and he loved the very sound of it. She was an interesting study, Stella, he determined. Lucifer’s mansion didn’t make her afraid, didn’t make her weary as it might have to some. “You…” he started, unsure, as Nimuel was wearier than she was. “You almost give me hope, y’know.” His shy smile returned as he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt. He couldn’t wait to take the bloody thing off, he huffed. “You sound so…I dunno, like you said, you don’t want to sit around. I don’t think I want to sit around either. That’s some kind of start, I think? To our great movement?”

He laughed nervously to himself, though he kept his head up straight. Truthfully, he didn’t want to sit around. He didn’t want to sit around a table and break bread with angels or humans. He wanted to break their bones, their hearts, their spirits. Boring was unacceptable, loathed, and he supposed he would make fun where he could if he was to be without his instruments for the evening. Talking around and around Stella was fun, as he constructed a spirit and a soul that wasn’t the slightest bit his.

“I ‘spose the Devil likes his fucked games,” he said with a knit brow and a bite to the corner of his mouth. “Pawns. Takin’ ‘em off the board or gatherin’ ‘em just to prove He’s the maker of the rules.” Alastair, not Nimuel, snorted. Rules mattered very little to demons, although some were preoccupied with the idea of ruling. Not him, but he wasn’t one to dampen another’s ambitions if it meant for blood to fill the halls.

“Figured the…other one’s got black wings, yeah? Demons, so I just figured…” The hand that wasn’t touching her gestured absently. “It’s silly.” Her smile was lovely, a pretty thing in Lucifer’s halls. He imagined the downturn of her lips, the wrath that would meet her eyes once dark wings joined his dark words. That would be even lovelier. So, this Stella had met a couple of the wingless angels. How curious. He wondered which she had met, which ones he would make visits to. “You did? I ‘ave. Met one, I think. It’s…It’s sort of funny, considerin’ the circumstances.”

A soul, a spirit that wasn’t his constructed Nimuel, but he could very well stitch in a life that had been his for a hint of reality. One that he had claimed, one that had reborn him in a blood shower. A touch of empty sadness had him casting his eyes down as he smothered a laugh at his own joke.

“She’d lost her sister too…To one of ‘em, y’know, the demons. Now, ‘ere I am. Guess it’s fun for ‘em, takin’ people away.”

[stellapryce]

A broad smile found Stella’s face and she passed it along to him. “Yeah? That’s nice to hear. That’s... I mean, I guess that’s all I hope to do. Keep people’s spirits up. Keep ‘em thinking that we all have a fighting chance. That we’re not just things to be divvied up across the sides.” The war was Angels versus Demons, yes, but they had brought the humans into it. So Stella was going to declare them their own side. Not every war had to be two-sided, after all. Morale was the name of Stella’s game at the moment. Everything else could wait, until the time was right. “Well, you’re not the only one,” she said with a sigh, glancing around. “And let’s hope we’re not alone in that sentiment.” Paradise was an odd place with an odd collection of people.

Her jaw ground as Nim hit on the key to Stella’s anger. Pawns and playthings. Collateral damage. “It’s fucked up, all right,” she muttered her agreement. She would not be just a piece in the puzzle, on the game board. She wouldn’t. Let Lucifer or whoever else think of her and all of them that way. They were in for one hell of a surprise, though.

Her brows furrowed as she considered the demons. “I think... They can hide the wings, I think,” she pointed out. How unfair was that? She swallowed, thinking of another sisterless citizen. “Maybe that’s what we all have in common,” she said with a laugh. “Missing a sister.” She didn’t know what to make of what the demons did, what they were doing. Only to think that they must have a greater plan for all of them -- angels and humans alike. “They’re keeping us all alive for something.” She shrugged. What that something was, though, was anyone’s guess.

[juniarose-blog]

A look had come over Stella’s face that made Junia pause and nearly caused her to step back. It was an expression she had seen many times before, through silver bars and hidden in shadows. It was usually paired with dark wings and glinting teeth and pain. She had never seen such an expression on a human’s face since coming to Paradise. Tension crackled along her skin, and instinctively, because she knew what came with that look, Junia braced herself for the blow. At Stella’s words the remnants of Abel’s beaten body and blood-soaked grass seemed to dissipate from her vision, only to be replaced by the sounds of flesh striking flesh, screams and running feet and desperation. Junia’s heart squeezed painfully. Even caught in the middle of the melee, she had thought this was an unfortunate side effect of Adelaide’s plan–there had been a very low chance of everything going off without a hitch. Now, she realized, this, too, was her fault. 

And as Stella moved around and Junia struggled to keep pace, she could not help but remember a very different hallway, opulent and dazzling. She remembered Stella’s refusal to leave everyone else behind, the subtle chastisement hidden in her words. It seemed every time they met, Stella managed to teach her something new. Junia was once again knocked out of her reverie when Stella spoke. It was just in time for Junia to see her turn the corner. Scrambling to catch up, still reeling over the guilt Stella’s last question had spiked, she gripped the woman’s elbow, “Wait! You shouldn’t go down there. It leads to Alastair’s … chamber.” There would be no exit there, and she did not want to risk anyone finding them in that room with all the available options with which to hurt them.

Junia dropped her hand quickly from Stella’s elbow, and glanced behind her, back the way they came to make sure no one was near. “I didn’t, not really,” she answered, the guilt-coated words crawling up her throat, scraping against her tongue as they left her mouth. “but maybe I can do something now. The others would have used the tunnels to come here, which means it’s still open. If you can get to them, you’ll be much harder to catch, especially with all the commotion.” As she spoke, Junia got her first good look at Stella since running into her, and she felt her words stick, as she took in all the scars, some old and some too fresh. Each and every one of them was her fault. “I’m so sorry,” the words came of their own volition, expelled from the awful pain in her chest.

[stellapryce]

Stella turned at Junia’s warning, ready to argue. But hearing the name, hearing Alastair... Instead, she leapt like she had been burned. Fear flickered harsh across her face as her stomach squelched. She never wanted to return to that place. Alastair was more monster than any of them, perhaps than all of them combined. Stella swallowed stiffly, straightened her back. “Thank you,” she said, terse and uncomfortable. But she was grateful -- she never wanted to go near that room again. 

Turning abruptly on her heel, the first bit of Junia’s words went to white noise. Fear was still eating away at her attention, memories of what had happened. “Tunnels?” she asked, forcing herself back to focus. Tunnels. The others. “Under the fence?” she asked, lost. Tunnels. Under the fence, under the yard, under the prison... Under Paradise? Her mind whirred to catch up. She was buzzing with possibilities, with questions, but they would have to hold off. The tunnels and their opportunities had to wait. Could wait. She needed to get out. Right then.

Junia’s apology hardly even stuck. It didn’t mean anything. Of course she was sorry, she was a good person, at her root. Stella knew that. But it didn’t undo the time that she had spent in a cell, tied to a post. It didn’t bring back the days she had lost, could have spent doing something. It didn’t heal Abel’s tormented mind and back. And she wouldn’t acknowledge it just so Junia might have some peace of mind. 

Brushing past the angel, Stella darted her eyes. “Where are they? The tunnels. Where do they open up?” Tunnels... Junia had said it herself -- she’d be harder to catch underground. And maybe... Just maybe... With the extra time, the cover. Maybe it didn’t have to be just her getting out. Maybe, if she knew where the tunnel was, she could find Abel. A selfish part of her just wanted him with her, of course, but thinking bigger... The loss of the whipping boy? Even just for a night, just to further the chaos... “Junia. Where?”

[placeholdersea]

I’m a little busy.

“One way of sayin’ it, yeah.”

Her words fell on disinterested ears, the syllables and the snark only white noise as Alastair attuned himself to her movements. All thought of connecting, communicating, fell to the wayside as his smile dropped to the ground like an empty cartridge. His blood thundered through him, flushed his skin as his pupils conquered the brown of his eyes and threw them into an indiscernible darkness. An interested darkness.

Stella chose to run and Alastair braced himself, bent his knees with jaw slightly parted in a wicked sneer that wished to devour. Except, he pivoted on his heels and allowed her to pass. How could he call himself a hunter, a beast as Holly put it, if he didn’t partake in a good hunt every now and then? It would have been a disservice to His good name. A holler, a howl, of a laugh broke out into the night’s chaos and he was elated to join in the revelry. Gale and Rowan were not with him, nor was Cain (Bianca elsewhere), and it was a thought that nearly saddened him, but he would enjoy it enough for the four of them.

Four heartbeats and four breaths later, he moved after Stella. Stella, Stella. Brave Stella. He liked the brave ones. He took to the trees again, breaking and cracking limbs in a way that imitated the sound of a hellhound’s snapping jaws. What did she think she would find at the mountain? If he had his way, it would only be corpses with their severed limbs spelling out Sorry, Try Again.

“Stella,” he called after, dragging out the end of her name. The trees went quiet as he dropped to the ground and listened for her. A heartbeat, a breath, a whimper. “Why’re you runnin’? You’ll be tired before we even start, love!”

[stellapryce]

Alastair moved to the side. Stella hadn’t expected that, really, but it was all the better to her. She didn’t stop, didn’t pause one second. Just kept pounding through the yard, straight for the mountain, toward Recon. But then, a brief moment later, he was after her. She could hear the rush of air filling around her from his wings. The trees shook but Stella ran strong.

She had to make it to the mountains, to Recon. And then... And then what? She didn’t know but she did know that they weren’t dead. There was a space, an opening. And anyway, they had said. They said that they rode beneath the mountain. The crash was a plan, she was sure of it. A facade. And if she led Alastair to them... Well, they would be prepared. She had to trust in that. Because there was no way she was going to stop before she got there. She had been waiting for this. Since the first angel lost his wings, she had been waiting for this moment. 

The Rise.

Her name echoed through a now silent forest. All she could hear was her own heartbeat, her breath rushing in and out. His name was much closer than she had expected and she knew she should be quieter but... Speed or stealth? You can’t have both, Stella. She couldn’t stop, didn’t want to but... But she had to make it to the mountain. And maybe if she could...

So she threw herself to a halt. Caught herself against a tree and held her breath a minute. Listened. He was silent -- at least, nothing she could hear over the thumbing of her heart echoing through her skull. Staying low to the brush, she took careful steps out, forward.

[possessedclaire-blog]

Date: October 4th. Location: Paradise, WA Availability: Open to Demons & Humans (sorry wingless beauties!!)

In her construction, fate had dubbed her a piece of irony. He gave her a guardian named Eden, sent her to a place called Paradise, made her the daughter of the man who sent Lucifer to hell, the daughter who could not fight, Lucifer’s prisoner, his soldier and servant, bound and gagged. Fate gave with one hand what it took away with the other. It gave her a decade’s worth of happiness, lavender infused tea parties on the lawn, a storybook world, laughter that never ceased. Then, in sixty seconds, it took it all away - it took him all away. Once, she would have argued that the pain of losing her Father was the worst, that nothing after could compare to having your one constant torn, for no good reason (or so it had appeared). Now, she realized she had played herself as a fool. There was a fate wore. Far worse. 

Indeed, it was her life.

The world was hers to look at, but never to touch. It was hers to scream at but her mouth never opened. She was but a mere observer, a shadow of the girl she had once been. Fate made a cruel mistress - chipping away and putting darkness where brightness had once stood. They took a freedom fighter and made her a soldier, draped in a cloak of red - hands tainted by the deed done in her name. And all the while, that voice laughed - to the captive audience of simply one. A mere solider in an Empire, but in her mind, they ruled supreme. Words of power, of agency, of control - they held no meaning for her now. Her mind was a prison and she the chained mute.

Autumn had fallen quickly, leaves tumbling to the floor - no one around to rake them up. As a child, her Father would enlist her in the all day task of piling them up, pretending that they weren’t going to honour their age old tradition, not this year. But, sure as not, at the end of each day, he caught her eye, picked her up and tossed her in. It had been the feeling of flight, the feeling of freedom, the feeling of living. Now, she only had memories to sustain her, a poor comparison for the real thing. Once, she had been alive, now, she was a mere memory of the girl she had once been. 

To her sides, red Xs lined the doors - marking out the victims that would fall in the days yet to come. Somewhere, deep inside, she felt herself shudder, the movement never translating in reality. She could think, but she could not do. Sliced and diced open, Leviathan would make monsters of them all, enslave them, pollute their minds with the presence of an other. She had glimpsed them, fair hair and youthful locks, the marks of civilians, not soldiers. Claire wanted to help them, they wanted to laugh, to welcome new comrades to their ranks, to relish in her misery. They thought her sorrow made her weak. They were wrong. It made her strong. 

A gust of wind, footsteps at her side and suddenly, she knew she was not alone. Altering her position and turning her head, blue iris’s settled upon the approaching figure. Claire willed herself into process, into the light. It was a gamble, never a question of when she would speak, but who. “It happened quickly. The Xs. They’re not messing around.”

[stellapryce]

A new someone. A new something... Because she wasn’t a human, Stella knew that, but her back was smooth and wingless. Unless she was just choosing to hide her wings but... What would be the point? Obviously she wasn’t an angel and... Stella squinted into the brisk breeze. And who was she? She couldn’t be a human. Stella knew all the humans and there were...

Suddenly, pieces dropped into place. The gossip and whispers she had heard that last night in the prison. Stories of a new demon arrival and her toys, her pets, her puppets. One of them had been dragged through the prison to Solitary (Stella heard him kicking and growling like something feral the whole way). And the other... A human girl. A human girl trapped by the demons. Something made Stella think they’d have a thing or two in common, something to talk about. Stepping from her porch and into the street, she heard the strange girl speak.

“I think that’s exactly what they’re doing, actually.” Drawing attention to herself, Stella crossed her arms over her chest. “Messing around. Toying with us. I mean, it’s not a warning -- nothing we do changes anything. So it’s just something for us to obsess and worry over.” Playing with their food. Stella was sick to death of being nothing but straw dolls for the demons. Her eyes trailed over the “X”s. Over the mark that was on her own door -- for Holly and Lydia, apparently.

“Can I take that to mean that you know what those marks are for?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. She doubted it. Even if this girl was supposed to be on their side, she didn’t think the demons would trust a human with the whole of their plans. “Or are you just as in the dark as we are?” Taking one step closer, Stella lifted her chin in a sort of greeting acknowledgment. “I’m Stella, by the way.”

[dominicramsey-deactivated201707]

He can feel it. The disgusting feeling building up in his chest the closer she gets and he immediately regrets the urge that he felt earlier to tell her the truth. Never in his life had anything come from telling the truth. Lying was always the answer– lies were things that he could shape in any way he wanted. Sharing had never really been a thing in his family, it was only secrets, only hushed conversations about weaknesses that you never wanted anyone else to know. His father had a motto when it came to showing people small things about yourself that might be perceived as a weakness.

You only show people weaknesses that you can defend at any moment.

It was simple and yet, here he was, about to break the family code because of a girl. A girl who had slowly become really important to him. A girl that he had risked his life to save. Dominic squinted at the idea of someone in this god forsaken (see what he did there?) town being important to him… How things had changed. 

“I thought I was going to lose you.” If he was going to be honest, might as well start with something heavy right out the gate. “It bothered me? The idea of losing you and then, fucking then, I found you and this fucking demon stopped me.” 

He laughs a little, because part of it is really funny. “I couldn’t even help you get out. How shitty is that? All you try and do is help me and I’m just– nothing.”

[stellapryce]

“Oh Dom,” she breathed out, feeling unbelievably fond of him right then. There was so much of Dominic that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. Like an iceberg, most of his mass lay beneath the surface. And if you weren’t careful, it could capsize you. Stella’s fingers tightened around his hand and she pulled closer, laid his hand over her chest. She wanted to reassure him, tell him that he would never lose her. But she couldn’t promise him that, not in this world. Instead, she asked, “Are you all right?” If a demon had stopped him, it wasn’t likely that it had been a peaceful encounter. 

“You did help,” she countered immediately. “You were there. You came with everyone. That means a lot to me, Dom.” She wasn’t just easing his conscience. If he had stayed back, stayed a home... It would have broken some part of her heart. Even Josephine and Isabella had come along -- she really hadn’t expected them to risk themselves to help. But they had. And Dominic had as well. Besides, she couldn’t blame him for getting intercepted by a demon.

“You tried. You didn’t succeed.” She shrugged a little. “I try to help you and don’t succeed all the time.” Letting his hand drop, she lifted hers to his cheek. Held it there as she tried to find his eyes. “Dom... Is this why you’re so upset about? I’m here. I’m home, I made it out, and you were a part of that.” Another step closer, so their chests practically touched. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’m proud of you, actually, okay?”

[fideiism]

“I’m not inventing anything,” he laughed, wriggling onto his side, against his better judgement, and against that of his barely-healed back and ribs, “You’ve got a hole in your wall; I may be occupied tonight, but the next time I come back I can absolutely fix that hole in the wall. And anything else that breaks while I’m across the fence.” The idea of coming over to tinker at the broken pieces and parts of Stella’s home was utterly domestic; it was some sort of wild dream that only someone as droll as Abel could think up, for others would think of running from the deadened fence, and here he was, concerned about a hole in the wall and the state of Stella’s health. 

He traced circles upon her palm, gaze dropping to their linked hands; hers were so much smaller than his, it almost consumed his attention entirely. “I’ll be careful,” Abel nodded, smile infallible and content pink settling upon his cheeks with embarrassing ease. It was so warm in her bedroom, so warm and so close, and so floral – floral? He almost felt his head spinning, but the tickle of her palm against his was enough to keep him rooted, and nowhere near as close to falling off the bed as he’d felt just moments before. Perhaps if he focused on drawing cartoonish flowers on her palms, he could refrain from thinking of how warm it was, and how much he would love to open the window. 

“Back’ll be in top shape in no time,” he assured her, daring to smile up at her, stilling the movement of his fingers upon her palm, “I’m afraid I’ll have more than a few nasty scars, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. It… it helped to have you there,” his smile saddened, but only for a moment; he was determined not to let it show that he missed her so greatly. But the fact that he was here to begin with was evidence enough of that. The fact that his fingers had absently curled around hers was doubly damning, but he didn’t quite mind. “I’m glad you’re back home, though. Don’t know how many times I can say that in the course of one night, but it’s true every time.” He laughed once, chagrined, and shook his head, “I still just can’t believe I’m in your house. A real human home.” 

[stellapryce]

She shook her head, still smiling in wonder. They had lived with that hole for months. “You don’t need to risk your life for manual labor.” Her smile dimmed a little at that, though. Because that was what he was doing: risking his life. And it frightened Stella. She couldn’t blame Abel in the slightest, though. If the power drops had been happening while she was in the prison... She would have been out of there in a second. No question about it. “You had better be,” she countered. More than careful. He has said it was a miracle he made it out that time. He wouldn’t always have that same luck. And she hadn’t to think what might happen to him then.

Something fluttered high in her chest as Abel played over her palm. Something giddy and silly. It brought a wide smile to her lips and the start of a blush to her cheeks. “I’m glad it doesn’t hurt,” she murmured. Her eyes were still watching his fingers. “I’m glad... I’m glad I could help.” She tipped her fingers, wrapping them around his. She was more than glad that she was home, though. Couldn’t express the extent to which she had missed this house, the humans, Paradise. Not being in a cell. And it did pain her that he had to go back to that but... But, it wasn’t her life. She, along with the rest of the humans, had gotten swept up in the war as collateral. The fence was already enough of a prison. 

She laughed along with him, shrugging. “It;’s not that grand,” she said, spreading her hands to indicate the house around her. It worked for what she needed, what she and Adelaide and the girls needed. It was home, that was enough. Leaning a little closer, she gave a conspiratorial smile. “How does it stack up against... what was it? The Borgia’s wine cellar?” She giggled a little, recalling the story he had told her. “I can get you roaring drunk again, if you’d like? Although that will probably make getting back to the prison pretty difficult.”

She sighed. Back over the fence. He had to get back over the fence. Shifting even closer, she settled her head down. They way they had first lain together on his cramped cot, that odd night they had shared. “I wish you could stay,” she whispered to the short air between them. It was a silly, silly musing. Something Stella wasn’t used to giving voice to. She wasn’t used to wanting people to stay -- or, at least, not admitting to it. The first person to make her feel that was in a long time had been Adelaide. And now, here she was, getting her fingerprints and clawmarks all over Abel.

Clearing her throat, Stella wound her hand around his. “How many times has the fence gone down?” she asked. She should at least do something productive, not just stare at him moon-eyed all night (although she thought she could, which was terrifying). “They must have fucked something up -- that must have been what unlocked the cells the other night.” She had yet to get a full account of exactly what had gone down that night, in the prison. But if it was something the humans did... Stella would have to ask around.