#aftermath.

[ignobledeath]

     It’s been a while since Rafe had felt the sun on his face like this;  even longer since he could  enjoy  it.  He turns to the warmth,  basks in it,  content.  For the moment.  “...  ––  Samuel,  you’re poisoning my air.”     @fortuneseek.

[ignobledeath]

     The smell of antiseptic lingers a little too heavy this morning.  Rafe hasn’t slept,  barring what few hours the pain medicine afforded him.  Instead,  he listened to the  clicking and whirring  of machines,  the hiss of oxygen from a mask he refused to use  ––  not because he  didn’t  need it,  but because he didn’t  want  to need it.

     Maybe if he didn’t want it bad enough,  his respiratory system would take the  goddamn  hint.

     He struggles to take a satisfying breath.  A spear of pain flashes white - hot,  broken bones shifting and grinding together as his lungs expand.  He cuts it short,  expression pinched in a grimace before dropping into muted  frustration.

     “Samuel.  If you have something to  say,  just say it.”

@fortuneseek.

[xliilith]

where. the streets of rome when. during the lycan / vampire throwdown who. @lycaonx​

The chaos of the wedding had bled into the streets, just as the lycans celebrated the victory of their newest alpha, and not a single aspect of it mattered to Lilith. No, she had much better matters to attend to. Though, as she slinked through the masses otherwise undetected, a particular dog caught her attention. As what wasn’t there appeared, Lilith stepped over what may have been a lifeless form as she drew closer to him, ever intrigued by his anger towards her. “Lycaon, darling, don’t you look quite -- ruthless,” a mild compliment as she stood not far from him now, and the destruction that he had already laid claim to. Oh, this was most certainly going to be interesting.

[arabnewstrends]

Paris Shooting: Gunman Opens Fire at Kurdish Cultural Center, Killing 3 and Injuring 3 Others

Paris Shooting: Gunman Opens Fire at Kurdish Cultural Center, Killing 3 and Injuring 3 Others

Paris Shooting; On Friday, a gunman opened fire at a Kurdish cultural center in Paris, killing three people and injuring three others. Overview of the Paris Shooting: Gunman Opens Fire at Kurdish Cultural Center The suspected racist attack is being investigated by authorities. The suspect, a 69-year-old man who had recently been released from prison, was quickly arrested at the scene. Clashes…

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[claimjupiter]

             the aftermath. jupe doesn’t know if the hurt was worse during, when he watched his family being sucked through a tube with no way to save them, ir after everything was said and done, when the guilt began to finally ( finally, finally ) eat him alive. tough call. maybe it’s the mixing of both that causes his stomach pain, his throbbing temples, the fast, deep beating of his heart. they’d saved the world, but that didn’t warrant forgiveness. oj and emerald didn’t look at him like he was a person, anymore, and so the only being in the whole world who was still left to care about him was magnolia. in her apartment, she’s already given him a blanket for his shock, a glass of water for his thrist, and ricky is too aware of how little he deserves these small kindnesses. after everything he’s done ; after everything he’s let happen. he stares at the liquid, gaze unfocused, long past screams echoing in his ears even now. he pulls his hand from his chin outward. thank you. but he still doesn’t touch it.      @desafia​.

[catharsy-archived]

    who knows how long i’ve been working for? while i wake up, i don’t feel the soft mattress that almost feels like home- i feel the splintered hard wood underneath me, and the feeling of drool and dust caked on my face. i get up from the table blearily, to which i see vex, jbeside me, with a small smile on her face. 

❝  ...have i worried you?  ❞ without warning, @unerrant​ neatens the blanket that i now realize is on me, tucking the blanket around my shoulders. ❝  ah. do tell me what time is it- did i miss much?  ❞

[catharsy-archived]

    the house is like a cemetery despite the people passing by within- it is cold, dead, and cassandra can’t sleep. moonlight frames the scene all around her as she walks through the house, making her way towards the kitchen.

it’s like everyone’s moving on without her. percy and his friends will be leaving at dawn for emon- a place they seem to call home. she can’t go, though. this is her home, despite the darkness that had swallowed the city. whitestone is where she is from. whitestone is who she has to lead. (whitestone is percy’s home, too. he should stay. she can’t stop him. she is the leader of whitestone now and she can’t even have him here... maybe a drink would help.)

when she passes to the kitchen, it feels like she’s leaving her problems at the door. cassandra knows she’ll have to face them tomorrow- but right now, she is only a girl. the droning sound of water filling a cup drowns the noise in her head, and when she carries the cup over to the table, her thoughts are a pleasing white noise. 

then she sees someone already at the table, blending into the shadows seamlessly; she only sees a flash of a pale face when the shadow undulates. she would’ve shattered her cup and screamed then, if she didn’t recognize who he was: percy’s friend. the one the briarwoods took. the one who was with her. 

cassandra gives @lovcalivc a nod of acknowledgement. she tries to keep her voice steady. ❝  can’t sleep?  ❞ her voice comes out exhausted.