#( miles )

[deadlytidetinkerbell]

closed starter for @miles-tulach​

Since the mess at the coves, Callie had done her best to keep low. It was stupid to go off by herself like that, especially to the coves when the water level had been rising due to the sporadic thunderstorms. She had been an expert sailor and knew how to read the waves, but it appeared that she had left that knowledge with her common sense on the sandy shores. 

Even worse, she’d admittedly dodged Miles. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Her hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans as she made the hesitant approach to Miles once he came into sight. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you hate me?” she asked.

[deadlytidetinkerbell]

closed starter for @miles-tulach​

In hindsight, it was probably a better idea for Callie to have brought the items down to the bar before taking the shot of whiskey instead of after, but details. Instead, it let that warm buzz dance happily in her bloodstream and her mood was far better than normal. Bags of random items she’d been asked to bring cradled in her arms, she continuously banged knees and elbows on her way down until she reached the familiar ground of the bar. 

She slapped the bags down at the bar with a gruff yell. “Okay, whoever finds my captain can tell him if he expects me to get all this shit sans coronavirus, he needs to send people to meet me at the docks so they can help me carry,” she announced. Scrunching down the bags, she caught sight of Miles. “Okay, I didn’t know you were there, but I stand by it. I did it by myself and I didn’t have to, but a little bit of a welcome wagon would have been nice.”

Finally, she dusted the paper bag residue off the front of her shirt and cast a sheepish smile in her captain’s direction. “Hey, stranger.” She pulled a bottle of Suntory Habiki bourbon from one of the bags to slide in his direction. “I got this from a guy who owed me a favor and I hate the guy. Please waste this nine hundred bottle of bourbon as a result. It’s old enough to order its own.”

[thvndring]

Miles is a nomadic Canadian vampire who travels alone, mostly by choice. Miles was born in Nova Scotia around 1890, the sixth of seven children of a seamstress mother & a father who died in the Second Boer War when Miles was only ten years old. Soon after his mother committed suicide to escape the mounting financial strain & his siblings quickly split up. Miles & his brother, Thomas, were never terribly close but were left to each other as the others went their own directions. Their partnership was beneficial together but their relationship was cordial & never much beyond it. When Miles offered a lumberman job in Saskatchewan, he was quick to take it.

After several years in Saskatchewan, Miles built a life for himself but it was a solitary one. Outside of his interactions on the logging yards he rarely interacted with other people due to his preference of solitude. This solitude almost directly led him to his immortal life. When a passing vampire came across his team logging a remote section of the forest, the immortal slaughtered them all. By the time he reached Miles, who was a good distance away from the crowd, he was already sated & didn’t drain enough blood to kill him.

Miles awoke several days later & lived alone, confused in the uncharted wilderness for several days before he finally came across another vampire exploring the area. He helped teach Miles how to hunt inconspicuously & live the same way. Since that ended, Miles has been almost entirely solitary in his long life and has only made a handful of immortal friends- tho he rarely keeps in touch with them. When the Cullens stood against the Volturi, Miles appeared to give his witness after meeting Randall, who was on his way to Forks.

[ragingemerson]

closed starter for @miles-tulach

They often said heavy is the head that wore the crown, but what was it for pirates? Emerson didn’t own a Captain hat and none of the ones she did have were heavy. Roman informing her she was now in charge of runs had a sense of bewilderment threatening to take her over. Ruslan’s death while she was in Italy had been one that had been ultimately due to negligence. While Emerson had nothing to write home about with Ford, she still exhausted every favor she could. 

Hell hath no fury like a Tulach betrayed. 

Yet while part of her was thrilled Roman finally saw her for the capable Captain she was, she was torn. Her new responsibilities meant that Miles suffered when he had done his best in the worst of circumstances. Emerson was no Miles. While she was better at dealing with the administrative side of things, she didn’t have his sharp mind. 

He ignored the Cantine for the most part. Emerson could easily find him if she put her navigational skills to good use. 

Roger stayed a small distance away from her, but busied himself with a stick he found as Emerson approached the docks. Miles. She took a seat on the dock beside him, golden-brown eyes trained on the sea before her. Asking him how he was seemed stupid; normally she wasn’t so lost for words. Telling him he was stupid for taking the fall was out of the question as well. 

“I’m no good at this,” she admitted. “Any of it. Feelings. Sometimes I think if I had some sort of handle on it, I can stop pushing people away.”

[ragingemerson]

closed starter for @miles-tulach

Emerson disconnected the call with Roman and balanced her laptop on the inside of her arm. She shoved her way to where Miles remained before knocking frantically on the door. 

Fuck, this was bad. This was so, so bad.

“Miles, if you’re asleep, wake up. We’ve got a problem. We’ve got a big, big problem,” she called through the door. 

[ragingemerson]

Text → Miles

Emerson: We're all alive.

Emerson: Banged up all to hell, but we're alive.

Emerson: I'll be back at the island soon. Supplies are coming. They're stolen, but we've earned it.

[ragingemerson]

Emerson’s supply of Samoan rum was rapidly dwindling and now was the time she stopped giving it away so freely. If it was going to last until the next member of her crew stopped at the island, she needed to quit sharing it. It also meant she needed to switch to something else to save her own stash. She could switch to cutting out alcohol altogether, but that was an absolute last resort and she wasn’t willing to do that. 

A half-empty water bottle sat opposite her at the Canteen as she tapped her pen through her list of needed supplies and the water moved in a manner that reminded her of Jurassic Park. “If you’re about to interrupt my train of thought, please make it good,” she spoke without turning around. “If you’re going to kill me, make it fast or keep it moving. I have things to do.” When someone moved in the corner of her eye, she looked up to see Miles. With the interrogations and keeping everything under wraps, business as usual had been her plan of attack. “Hey.” Her tone was soft and she regretted speaking so sardonically. “Sorry. My humor’s warped.”

@miles-tulach