#ayla 001.

[tomhatch]

where: los angeles police department who: @aylaxbinici & tommy hatch

Tommy had never been a fan of law enforcement. From his younger days, running his mouth and stuffing shit in his pockets that didn’t belong to him, to five long years locked up with barely a strip of sunlight a day to remind him the world still turned. Places like the police station had a way of getting under his skin. Nevertheless, he'd gotten the call earlier that week with the voice on the other end letting him know they had Quincy’s things, that someone had to come get them. He’d thought about pushing it off on Tyson, letting his big brother deal with it, but Tyson had been swallowing himself in hospital shifts lately, probably just trying to keep busy so the grief didn’t catch up. They coped how they could; Tommy drank and dabbled and didn’t sleep. Tyson picked up overtime and buried himself in his work. Neither of them was doing great, but it was him that was more available.

He’d been waiting by the front desk for a while now, watching the receptionist juggle a phone call like it was any other Tuesday — like the sky wasn’t falling, like his entire world hadn’t just gone up in flames. The place buzzed with movement, with clipped voices and ringing phones, business as usual. He kept his hood up, earbuds in, trying to keep the edge off his nerves. That was when he caught a flash of dark hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Ayla,” Tommy said, tugging his headphones loose and straightening up a little — trying, maybe, to look less like a kicked dog. “It’s good to see you.” And it was. Despite her and Jason not working out, there was never any bad blood. Tommy knew how his best friend operated — the reasons he gave weren’t about her, not really. He offered a small, tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, gesturing towards the still-occupied receptionist. “I’m just, uh, here to pick up Quincy’s things. Eventually.”

[rimonakyun]

starter for: @aylacassia​ location: rimona’s loft, living room

There had been a lot, more than a lot, that had accrued while Rimona was off doing her own thing and trying to play at a normal life. They all knew better than that and the  occurrences that rippled through the vampire community wasn’t something she could easily ignore. The Palace of Pluto could have been Juno or Venus and she understood the role that her closest friends had to play in order for lives to be spared. For the first time, doors had been open to all who wanted to attend one of the most lavish Halloween parties of the year and a social highlight to most vampires. So, at the end of the day, Rimona wasn’t entirely surprised by the total fallout of the evening but that hardly meant she was immune to the travesty. “I’m just so glad you’re okay,” her voice is mushy and affectionate, having hardly left go of Ayla’s arm or hand since the two had been reunited in her studio loft, “With everything that's happening, you could have ended up just like that Juno marshal.” A fact that her adoptive sire hadn’t let her forget. Rimona understood it was valid, given they shared the same bloodline and that same ripple effect was made.

Worry hangs all over the fellow vampire’s features and its out of that same worry that she feels the need to say any of this at all. These encounters are beginning to invade the protective bubble and shield that she thought she created for herself, but even immortality isn't forever. The whole concept drives her to pull at her drink, a custom blend that Ayla had brought over, and take a long sip before speaking again, “Maybe the fae don’t hate us as much as their Queen wants us to believe,” Rimona almost feeling a nod of respect towards the creatures that most vampire’s regarded simply as a source of nourishment. In truth, she hadn’t quite understood the history there until she grew more into her vampirism. Fairies and vampires were pushed into the same category in the myths she was raised on, often hiding in the dense forest regions just like most legends, “Venus and Titania, they were friends once weren’t they?”

[sylviedebellis]

starter for: @aylacassia​ location: what appears to be the royal halls (?)

For the entirety of the festivities, Sylvie had looked at this as an opportunity. Not just to hopefully come face to face with the fey Queen, who was either extremely elusive or not among them at all, but also maybe to sense her connection here within the crowds or moss encrusted hallways. She had escaped the clutches of the ballroom floor, having found comfort in another daydreaming halfblood whose traits only solidified her own sense that there was much around them that wasn’t what met the eye. Her feet also led her into the company of various Eladrins as she sought moments of comfort from all the personalities, be that on the outskirts of her exit or within the Royal Palace itself. Another moment left her hair damp and testing the limits of her own bravery, stumbling upon a woman who could only be described as half a hurricane. While the splash of the water and merrymaking left Sylvie distracted, the intensity left her feigning the need for a drink and something to dry her off.

Mind-blowing, that’s how the empath would describe it now if she could, as the muchness of the realm was starting to take its toll on her. The eagerness of wanting to withstand the place that for so long she had been denied access to, though all it seemed to do was draw attention to the erratic nature of blending fey with humans. Maybe no matter how hard Sylvie tried, no matter the work she put into bringing halfblood’s unity, they would always be between. Delicate shoulder blades met ancient stone, finding comfort in the coolness for only seconds before the familiarity of anguish radiated through her. But it wasn’t her own and suddenly her onyx hues are alert— another pang of torture causing Sylvie to quiver.