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soul in control | frank & nell

TIMING: before nell’s drowning via constance. LOCATION: outside soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: an accidental use of pheromones leads to panic for both parties involved. CONTENTS: panic attack, ptsd symptoms, drug manipulation (accidental pheromones), non con (accidental pheromones) SPECIAL NOTE: i’ve included a more in depth, and less trigger focused summary here for anyone who might be hesitant about reading! there are still mentions of the triggers, but in less detail.

Frank took in the empty bar with a calm appraisal, one could say that he was almost relieved. For most, the new day would soon begin, for Frank that meant it was time to gather his losses and head home. Tonight’s loss, thankfully, was just the one black eye, and through the murky window he could see the shadow already looking a lot less severe than it was a few hours ago. Nothing time, and supernatural healing could not make quick work of. His focus brought back to the task at hand, Frank gave one last survey of the bar’s inside for any outstanding job that the night’s bustle had distracted him from, once satisfied that everything was in its right order, he put in the bolt that sealed the entrance to the bar and pocketed the key. Turning his gaze toward the road, his eyes fell on a lonesome figure by the roadside, and his wavering thought turned rigid. The silhouette alone was unsettling on a night (well, close to morning now) so still, so quiet, upon seeing who it was, Frank was careful to conceal any unease with as much casual grace as a hard day’s labour and a black eye could muster. “A little late.” He put a cigarette into his mouth, not yet lit, the stick hanging lazily on the corner of his lips, bobbing with the movement of each syllable. He looked around, as if to make sure that his statement was in fact true, “everyone’s already gone. Bar’s closed.”

Nell was just coming in off her evening as well, though it hadn’t been the night crowd that had kept her awake. Her profession always called for flexible and strange hours, and it didn’t help that her sleep was still so often unsettled after all the events of the summer. Technically she hadn’t even been working her job in these parts of the Bend, but being as close as she was to the old site of the Ring— she hadn’t been able to resist scouting out the area near it, especially after learning that they were trying to rebuild. However that meant walking by Soul on the Rocks, and as she shivered in the early morning air she squinted towards the shape that was lingering in front of the bar’s doors, perhaps already thinking of the time she’d bitten an unsuspecting bartender before realizing the very same man was the person hovering by the entrance. “If it isn’t my old nemesis,” she began with a tease, the rough edges she’d had the evening of their meeting somewhat smoothed over in the light of the day. It was easier to be cordial when she hadn’t just finished throwing punches, and been dragged out of a bar. “I’m not here for the bar. This was just on my way home.” But as she drew closer to where Frank stood, and the sun barely winked over the horizon, she could see a mottling of darkness over that man’s eye. Instantly her brow furrowed towards its center, a small frown tugging the corners of her lips southwards. “What the hell happened to you?”

Around the breath of a chuckle (because that was all their history and his pride was not quite willing to grant her a laugh just yet) he said, “har-dee-har, you’re a regular comedian.” Though Frank’s features sobered somewhat, the tender mirth whipped away by the new piece of information that she had just fed him. “My condolences if you live around here,” he said and the old bar, that was a few chipped paints and leaky roofs away from being decrepit and one health code violation away from being dilapidated, solemnly echoed his sentiment. The buildings did not get better the deeper you went into the Bend. Most of it, casted into the shadow of the luxurious New England style living on the other side of town, and the even larger shadow across the river. It was not a very nice place to live. He should know, he lived here. “Oh shit, right...that” With a light shake of his head and a breezy wave of his hand, he dismissed Nell’s concern, although was quietly touched that she was. “Occupational hazard. You’re not the only one that likes to through their fist around. I was just standing on the wrong side of it.” An occurrence that was happening with increased frequency. You’d think Frank would have gotten used to it by now, but the pain that answered his tender touch was a harsh reminder that just because it happened more often, didn’t mean that it hurt any less. “It’s nothing, trust me, it just looks worse than it is. Come more it’ll be as if it was never there.” Perhaps that was more truth than he’d meant to give, and he sidestepped quickly with a glance at his watch, skillfully playing into the casual banter that apparently existed between them. “Which reminds me...it’s almost my bedtime. But I mean, do you need a ride home or would you like me to walk with you?” While morning light was not far off, the shadows from the previous night still lingered and, from experience, Frank learned to exercise wariness of what might lurk behind it.

“Har-dee-har?” Nell quipped back in a single moment with a healthy dose of judgment in her voice. “Who actually says that? What are you like- seventy or something?” The levity of her initial and well-meaning jibe was still folded between the spaces of her voice, not wanting to bring back any of the energy that had gotten her nearly tossed onto a curb. At least- not right now. “Oh no-” she promptly rectified, not wanting to give Frank the wrong idea. “I don’t live that close by. It’s just I was coming from that way-” she paused to gesture towards Amity Road, “and I live that way.” This time she vaguely pointed in the opposite direction of her first indication, which left Soul on the Rocks smack dab in the middle of it all. In all honesty, Nell had been raised in a family that was perhaps a bit too well off, and only recently had financial troubles begun to plague her in the form of hospital bills and being essentially disowned along with her sisters. At least Bea’s house where the trio of Vurals lived was all paid for. They didn’t have to scrounge for a place to stay or anything along those lines. Perhaps a little too late, she remembered to say something nice about the area, realizing that Frank might live around here. “Ah- I mean it has its charms, though. The rats in this part of town are the most talented.” Okay...perhaps it’d come out a little less polite, and leaned more towards a simple joke to diffuse any possible tension. Her defensive nature was quick to flash back to her features as he mentioned the bar fight, and Nell shifted on the balls of her feet. “I didn’t punch you! And I didn’t give you a black eye. Just you know...bit you,” she ended her sentence as a stubborn mumble, as if saying it quieter would make it less true. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder just how often this ‘occupational hazard’ made a mark on Frank. “I have a salve-” she mentioned seemingly out of the blue. “It could help...if you want.” Offering assistance to him didn’t come as naturally as it would had she been talking to someone she knew better, but the extension of it helped gnaw away the corner of some of the guilt that was flickering in her stomach. “A ride?” she repeated in the same way she’d echoed ‘What?’ when he’d asked if she was okay after the altercation in the bar. Nell simply wasn’t used to being the one offered a form of protection, even if it was one as simple as walking home. More often than not she was the one fending off supernatural threats or whatever White Crest had decided to throw at its citizens that day. “I mean- it’s kinda far. I live in the Outskirts. Basically in the middle of nowhere.” But as if the universe had heard Frank’s concern of what might be making a home in the shadows, a bonedoggle seemed to appear from thin air, shadow hopping into place beside the bar. “Or you know what?” Nell amended hastily. “Actually- I could use some company on the way home. I mean- what better way to end the day, right?” And what better way to get Frank away from the supernatural pup?

Frank’s reply came out in a pleasant, “hmm,” as he reached into his pocket for a lighter, neither denying nor concurring to the jibe about his age. He was not without days where he felt the age that she had jokingly assigned him with, and there were more days that he felt it than there were without. A wariness that was felt to the bone. A cigarette offered a temporary salve, alas the real desire came at too great a risk for him to indulge in more than what was absolutely necessary. He recognised immediately the look of pity and then the gradual transition into regret. Were he a kinder man he would have stopped her then and there, and spared her the mortifying ritual of having to explain one’s meaning for fear of offense or misunderstanding. Frank pocketed his lighter, curved lips parting around a wispy chuckle, “it really doesn’t.” He said, but his real meaning was clear: I live in a dumpy part of town. I know. It’s fine. Her indignation was answered with a patient rise of his brow. Perhaps she had forgotten the series of events that led up to her biting him in the first place. His hand fell on the phantom mark; any evidence of the bite having existed was gone by that morning, though forgetting the experience was not so easily achieved and a lot more time consuming. “Yes, you’re right, that is much a lot better.” Yet, what was this? An offer of salve? An extension of kindness, even? Guilt made saints of us all it seemed, he thought, smiling, “I’m good, but thank you.” Though the smile quickly smoothed over to an expression of quiet curiosity. The incredulity was familiar, and then Frank was reminded of the other night and the little piece of information that he had filed at the back of his mind about Nell. He regarded her with sympathetic interest, like one might do an injured creature, without condescension but with great warmth-- and perhaps a little pity. “You’re not used to people looking out for you, are you?” No that wasn’t quite right. “At least no one that had any ulterior motives anyway-- Oh, you don’t have to answer that. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Frank sought for the cause of her sudden shift in demeanour, but found little else saved a small black dog--albeit a sickly looking one, sniffing about the shadows, but nothing that warranted any great concern. “Right...um, well I’m not going to walk you to the outskirts so...car’s this way.” Was that a dog toy stuck to its hind leg? He took one last drag of the cigarette and put it out with his boot. Probably best if he didn’t watch too closely, or think too hard on it. He learned that in this town, nothing good ever came out of doing either.

Nell knew just as well as any other person on Earth in the year 2020 that smoking wasn’t good for you. But she barely knew Frank, and she’d never been one to try and police someone she’d met only once before on their lifestyle unless it was harming others. So instead of telling him how cigarettes were killers, she smirked lazily before raising a hand to try and playfully flick at the glowing cherry at the tip of it. It wasn’t hard enough to knock the cig from his lips, just forceful enough to be a nuisance. “It does,” Nell insisted stubbornly, refusing to give into what was probably an act that was meant to take pity on her or something of that like. “I mean- I’m here right now, aren’t I?” It’d be easier to steer away from the awkwardness of the conversation if she made a pointless quip about herself. “That’s a definite plus.” Her head cocked to the side in a tease, as if inviting Frank to join in so that they could both escape that particular line of conversation. “Yes, I know it’s better,” she replied with an air of continuing to see just how much she could push with Frank. Thus far, he’d proven to be exceedingly patient— even when she’d been practically yelling in his face the other night. Sure he’d also had a moment of passion, but he’d proven that he was rather adept at reigning it in. Nell on the other hand had never been even remotely good at keeping her emotions and subsequent reactions in check, no matter what they were. His denial of the salve caused a small thread of disappointment to shoot through her. After all, her offered help had been genuine, and just because she herself had caused him pain— it didn’t mean that she took any joy in seeing another’s violence enacted on him. “One day-” she began, almost in a threatening tone. “One day you’re gonna accept my salve. And you’re gonna like it even if you don’t like it.” Her index finger had come up to emphasise her point, her arm lifted embarrassingly high in order to get it to align with his nose in a chastising shake.

Nothing could have prepared Nell for what he said next, it being so seemingly out of the blue in when it came to her expectations. “I-” The beginning of her answer cut off, somewhat shocked into hesitation at Frank’s audacity to say something so unnervingly unexpected and personal. “That’s not true,” she began hastily. It wasn’t for the most part, right? She’d always had her two older sisters looking out for her whether she’d wanted it or not. Especially when it came to Bea. And their love had been unconditional, even if Nell hadn’t always felt like it was. In reality...most of the love she’d gotten in her life had felt conditional until a year or so ago, though she still couldn’t be sure of all of it. “That’s not true,” she repeated, more calmly this time. He said she didn’t have to answer, but pride made her want to set him straight. “I guess I’m just more used to being the one offering help.” Even moreso in these last few months she’d gotten accustomed to carrying the weight of every problem that came her way. It had begun with Bea’s death and resurrection, only snowballing from there. Responsibility was no light burden to bear, and she didn’t often share it if she could help it, preferring to shoulder it alone. But at the same time it was true that much of her youth had been spent not asking for help because she knew she wouldn’t receive it. Perhaps it had become more of a habit that she’d realized. That was a far off thought as she warily watched the bonedoggle. The thing looked a little worse for the wear, perhaps a little malnourished. Maybe she could loop back around once Frank was gone and try and wrangle it for Jared. It’d be safe and well cared for on her nymph friend’s farm. “Hey, you’re the one that mentioned walking. It’s not my fault you did it before knowing where I live.” The witch tried to call back their more casual air, not wanting Frank to think that anything was wrong. Turning towards the direction Frank had mentioned his car was in and away from the pup, Nell’s heart dropped to see a familiar silhouette now in front of her despite her best efforts. It seemed that the bonedoggle had jumped into one of the shadows between them and the car. “Oh- ah- looks like it’s a stray,” she quickly tried to cover. “I bet it’s just hungry. I think I have something in my pocket.”

Wordlessly, Frank lifted his chin to avoid the determined swipes of playful fingers. He was tall, but what she lacked in height Nell made up for with persistence and a great enthusiasm in trying to get a rise out of him. His own pleasure was in the resolution of impeding the enjoyment of hers. “Oh yeah, and here I was thinking that the rest of my night was going to be quiet and peaceful. Lucky me, now I have you to steer it in a completely different direction.” He said through smoke and teeth, and then deciding that the safest place for his cigarette was between his fingers lest she was successful in riding him of it. Cigarettes weren’t cheap. At least not on his bartending budget. Perhaps he ought to take Ariana’s joke about venturing into the bodyguard business more seriously. His expression gave no indication of his drifting trail of thought, however; steeped in patience and calm appraisal as he listened to her…was that a threat? Something about the finger pointed at his nose said that it was, or at least trying to give the impression of one. “Sure Bitey,” he said, mouth curving into a mild pleasant smile (he was not completely oblivious to the strangely amicable reaction her nuisance elicited in him) as he calmly guided her finger away from his face, “one day. Just not today.” Frank couldn’t help the slight tilt of his head as Nell began her explanation. For a moment, all Frank did was watch as the woman digested his words, and then grappled at pieces of her thought, deciding what she was willing to share and what she’d rather keep omitted. She seemed uncertain at first, or at least taken aback, but slowly gaining more confidence as she was gradually verbalising those thoughts, feeding him bits and pieces of information that she was not at all obligated to give, and did anyway. She insisted that he was wrong, although her initial hesitation seemed answer enough. “Hmm,” Frank took a drag of his cigarette and glanced back at his companion with a smile, “maybe it’s worth thinking about why that is.” Jesus H, he needs to spend less time at his shrink’s office. “Or you know, don’t. Do whatever you want, I’m not your boss.”

Frank’s car was the only one in the lot, and it wasn’t much to look at: a beat up old 60s ford that’s seen its best days past and was now holding together only by sheer will and scotch tape. Still Frank loved it enough to refuse to buy another car, and was proud enough of it to take mild offense to anyone who might have a bad word to say about it. Half of the people he knew did, the other half thought it suited Frank perfectly, though the latter did not seem like as much of a compliment as one might think. The key on the driver’s side took a bit of work and some gentle persuasion on Frank’s half. “Yeah, and why don’t you take the damn toy off its hind leg while you’re feeling generous.” The words felt nice to say (strange) although the weight of it did not register with Frank until the car door finally opened, but Nell was no longer at his side. “Bitey?” He said, but she was walking away from him, an odd almost possessed determination in her stride. “I was kidding Bitey, leave the poor dog alone.” But she did not relent, and the closer she got the more agitated the sickly little stray became, its little teeth gnashed together as a warning. That was when Frank noticed the odd glow in its eyes, something not dog-like at all. “Come on kid, I was just fucking around.” He had her arm now, holding her back but he could feel her resistance. “Nell, seriously, stop.”

The controlling pheromones and silver tongue came over Nell just as quickly and efficiently as they had with Jax all those months ago below the Ring. Just because they hadn’t been as targeted and intentional as the despicable gancanagh’s didn’t mean they were ineffective. The creeping sensation of a need to please— the need to do whatever that lovely voice was asking of her gripped her in its iron hand, quickly making it feel as if her muscles had a mind of their own, moving her along of their own accord towards the bonedoggle. And yet...as the familiar sensation came over her another emotion rose to greet it, rearing its ugly head as it too fought for control of her. Panic wormed its way through her chest, feeling like a metal vice around her lungs as her breathing grew harsh. “Stop it-” were the first two words to find their way through the heaving of her uneven breaths. Whether she was talking to her own legs or Frank was unclear, and not even Nell knew which it was she was commanding to cease fire. Powerless. Out of her own control. Just like she’d been as Montgomery stood over her, readying to behead her in the middle of the forest. Just as she’d been as Jax clamped a magic inhibiting bracelet on her wrist and had her walk herself to her own jail, a cage she’d sit in for a week without being let out to so much as stretch her legs, given just enough food and water to survive and nothing more. “Stop it!” she yelled out fiercer this time. The saltiness of her unnoticed tears gathered on her lips. She could taste it. Salty like Bea’s blood had been when she’d woken up to find her sister dead and headless beside her.

Who the hell was Frank, even? Was he like Jax? How did she know he hadn’t been sent to avenge the death of the gancanagh Nell had lended her hand to? What if the Ring had found her? What if this was their attempt to bring her back? To lock her back in that cage and make sure she never got out this time around? Rationality was lost as these questions ricocheted off every hidden corner of her mind, growing louder each time they collided against one another. It felt like nails were clawing at her throat, crushing what little air she had between their fingers to wrench it back— all the way down until she couldn’t breathe. And yet...beneath all of this was that sickenly sweet feeling of wanting to do whatever it was Frank commanded, to retrieve that dog toy for the man who’d requested it if it was the last thing she did. It took her a long moment to even realize that Frank had latched onto her, but when she did her first reaction was violent, a blast of pure and instinctual magic exploding forth from her to throw him off. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled savagely- desperately. He’d take her to the cages if he got her in his grasp. Put that bracelet on her and make sure she never saw the sun again. But still her legs carried her towards the hound that now nearly lay in arm’s reach. The shadow hound’s ears were flat against its head, not welcoming of this new development in the least. It wasn’t attacking, but it’s fangs were bared in a warning snarl as Nell drew closer, the pulse of magic having made its fur stand on edge.

For one starved of heat, the sudden explosion might have been welcomed, had it not burned right through Frank. Not even his wings, whose instincts were usually better than even his, could withstand the sudden force, Nell’s magical tempest took his breath and then his feet as it hurled him into his car as if he weighed nothing. The metal groaned in protest at the sheer force of the impact, flat on his back Frank was left in a daze and in considerable pain, his car--he didn’t even want to look, although this proved an easy task as there were more pressing dangers to occupy his concern. The shadows seemed to birth more hounds, each one bigger, uglier, and meaner looking than the last, sporting an armour of bones and...dog toys? Apparently, the stray wasn’t as alone as they had first thought, and one after the other, pairs of glowing green eyes followed Nell’s path and there was nothing benign about the way the dogs bared their teeth. She was going to get herself killed, and it was going to be his fault. The weight of that reality was too gruesome to bear, so the natural course of action was to do everything in his power to rebel against it. Frank grappled at any shred of strength he had left, and to will those that were not there into existence. A new fire burned through his veins, nothing owed to any magic or supernatural inheritance, but pure, human, adrenaline. Magic had thus shown its usefulness (which was not at all) and a gentler approach had proved its effectiveness in the Frank-shaped dent that warped the length of his passenger door. He could not afford another blow, lest she pushed him too far out of reach, where he could not get to her in time. And while Nell’s pace was not hurried, it was determined, and not slowing.

“Fuck.” The human approach it is then. “I’m really sorry about this, but this will probably hurt me a lot more than it’s going to hurt you.” Without thinking too much on it, or allowing Nell the same courtesy, Frank threw his entire weight into her, throwing her off her spellbound path. Her back pressed hard against his chest, her arms trapped beneath his. His entire body twisting at the last second so that his back bore the brunt of the fall. That was probably not a very smart thing to do, and he was fairly certain that that was her elbow against his ribs. Turns out, breathing was significantly more difficult when you have the entire weight of another body on top of you, which was not helped by the fact that he was also thrown against a car only moments before. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” There was nothing graceful in the way Frank literally grappled for her skin, the struggle was a hurried and desperate one--with lots of flailing. At last his fingers found the soft span of skin on the inside of her wrist. The pulse hummed with life, warmth, he could feel his own matching in chorus. “Please stop Nell! For god’s sake, stop! Please, please stop!” And she does, and Frank felt a shudder of warmth pass through him. He had her now. The thought was not his own, yet it spoke with a honeyed smile and beckoning fingers. It would be so easy to just...eat. She wouldn’t feel any pain, they never feel any pain, hell, she’d probably enjoy it. With a groan, Frank dropped his arms. She rolled off him and he could breathe again. He’s so tired. It’s an ache that sank deep into his bones. He’s so fucking tired.

Despite the utter panic gripping every inch of Nell’s body, there had still been that hopeless need to get the dog toy off the bonedoggle or die trying. Fighting the sensation had only proved useless, just as it had when Jax had her in his grip. In fact, her silent throes against the fae ability had only made things worse. The more she tried to fight and failed, the more hysteric she’d become. Then finally...finally she felt every muscle in her body go slack at Frank’s newest command. The whole exchange couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, but it’d felt like a lifetime as Nell had grown closer and closer to the bonedoggle, then wrenched over the cliff that sent her soaring into the abyss. Somewhere in her fractured mind she was aware of the warm spot on her wrist where Frank had made contact. The touch on the mottled scar tissue that spanned the entirety of her arms in its patchwork pattern was grounding this time, though it quickly shifted once more into alarm.

The moment Nell was free of the gancanagh’s influence she was on her feet in a flash, hands blurring forwards from her sides as she uttered a spell, the Latin words cracked by her still shuddering breath, and the occasional half-hearted sob she hadn’t even noticed until now. Even as she stood broken and shaking her self-preservation was on auto-pilot, knowing this was the next step if she wanted to ensure that her life remained her’s. As the magic did it’s work, invisible handcuffs formed around Frank’s wrists, latching them together uncomfortably close. Then came his ankles as she left him hobbled on the ground. Again her hand raised, but this time it was aimed threateningly towards his mouth, as if she were readying to close that for him next. “Who- who are you?” she asked in a shaky tone, hating how small her voice sounded as she tried to find something to hold onto in hopes that she wouldn’t float away into that space of panic once again. She didn’t ask what he was. That was already a question she knew the answer to. Gancanagh. But paranoia was still a healthy driving force behind her queries. “Did he send you?!” No, Jax was dead. Nell had seen it with her own eyes. But what about Montgomery? He was still out there. Maybe he was trying to finish the job. “Why are you here?” This time she managed to make her voice stronger, her ever-present determination beginning to take over, though there was still a hint of desperation to the words.

In the brief moment of quiet, Frank’s eyes drifted across to the shadows, searching for the green glowing eyes, the bared teeth--the very imminent threat of getting ripped to shreds by them. Alas the shadows were just that; shadows, and the sun had peered enough above the horizon for him to see the rough shapes of empty cardboard boxes and dumpsters and trash cans that lived in them. But the breath of relief did not make it past his tongue, but was stuck in his throat; choked out by the sudden burn of an invisible rope that fastened his wrists together, the same force biting into his ankle. “What the fuck…” The words whistled past clench teeth in a painful hiss as the beginning of angry red rings formed around his skin, burning faster than he could heal. The answer to his question came out loud and angry, in the shape of Nell standing above him, an accusing hand held out above him, but it was more than accusing. It was the source of the burn. She looked angry, hurt, betrayed even, though he could not pinpoint the source. The realisation was, quite literally, burned into him. The source was him. Her question sent a chill down his spine, a vicious hand that stopped at the pit of his stomach where it’s fingers balled into a fist and twisted. The pheromones, it must have messed with her head somehow, some sort of amnesic side effect.. Frank wasn’t certain of the science or even how it worked, which was precisely the reason why the thought made sense. “You know me Nell, it’s Frank! It’s fucking Frank!”

Who sent him? The amnesia was worse than he thought, and apparently so was the burn, the genesis of blisters forming on his skin where the ‘rope’ was biting into it. He tried to sit up, but he had spent the last of his strength, and even those that he did not have, and he had no will left to give. Somehow to move into any position beside the fetal seemed an impossible feat. Frank’s

own tolerance for pain was high, from his occupation, his history, he was conditioned to be. A well placed punch to any part of his body was tolerable for him, normal even, but there was nothing normal about this. If left long enough would the rope sever his hand completely? Like some morbid Bond villain laser weapon? Maybe. Probably not. Probably. It was a magical rope, and Nell looked fucking angry--and he was pretty sure that the prolonged pain was making him delirious. “Wait--what? No! No one fucking sent me! It’s me! It’s Frank, you fucking bit me!”

Nell stood there for a long moment looking at Frank, trying to make sense of the words he was spouting. But it was difficult to believe what he was saying when a large and panicked part of her brain insisted on spewing things that were simply not true, making her hesitate. Her heart was still throbbing in her chest, beating out a rhythm that was far quicker than usual. Everything was moving too fast, and yet too slow all at once as her eyes raked Frank over, a ferality in them that didn’t promise any logical thought. It wasn’t until she felt something brushing against her legs that she was jerked out of the hyper focused state, looking down and away from Frank to see a familiar face. Taki? It was her familiar, an Ovinikk that looked like an enormous black cat the size of a Shiba Inu to those that didn’t know what he truly was. A purr, followed by a little dog-like bark erupted from him as he broke through the barrier of her confusion. He always had a way of showing up at just the right time, and as their emotions were more closely linked due to the familiar bond, he must have sensed Nell in her distress, following their link until he could find her and help in whatever way he could. Without invitation he leaped into her arms, and they reflexively dropped from their spellwork position to catch him, breaking the concentration necessary for her magic. The soft fur of the familiar against her was another awakening, and finally she looked back to Frank, a different sort of dread filling her stomach as she saw the pain etched into his features. “Oh shit.” Instantly the magic holding him in place dissipated, freeing the man as she managed to find the beginnings of clarity. The knowledge of his fae heritage certainly helped her believe that his words of innocence were just that. Innocent. He wouldn’t have been able to lie that outrightly about someone sending him...right?

Nell’s gaze dropped to where the bindings had been, and she was shocked to see just how angry the skin was where they bound him, the blisters filling her with a sense of guilt. The spell wasn’t supposed to do that. But she knew as well as most spellcasters that one’s emotional state was heavily responsible for the outcome of a spell, and seeing just how fractured her’s had been at the casting...it wouldn’t be a far cry to think that the magic had turned more destructive. “Shit,” she repeated, that nervousness still buzzing in her as she took a tentative step forward. But she couldn’t bring herself to come too close— not while her body was still trying to scream at her that she was in danger. “Are you alright?” she asked reflexively, looking with concern at the injuries she’d unwittingly doled out. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-” Then came the rush of embarrassment, the tear tracks still wet on her face feeling glaringly obvious in that moment as a cool, morning breeze blew over them. What the hell was she supposed to say after a stint like that? How was she supposed to explain exactly what it was that had happened? How thoroughly she’d lost it? She wasn’t the sort of person that lost it in the first place. All this time— ever since Bea’s death in June, she’d been holding it together, refusing to crumble as she forged forwards, keeping determinedly on the path she’d made for herself. How had all that work come undone from a single, stray pheromone? Nell was the one who was always collected in the face of danger, and yet she’d taken a nose dive straight into the ground, all rational thought thrown to the wind. “I’m sorry,” she said again, not knowing what else to say. A large part of her wanted to walk closer so that she could take a look at his injuries, possibly even help— but she still couldn’t completely ignore the paranoia that had made her its prisoner, telling her that another step in his direction would be her downfall, and it was her fear that did the speaking for her this time, though she refused to let her her voice shake, the iron in it quickly returning as she tried to reassemble the hard, ever present armor of her rough exterior. “Why did you do that?” she demanded, realizing that even if her reaction hadn’t been anything she’d expected, he still needed to answer for the use of pheromones in the first place.

Frank drew his first painless breath, and the relief alone was enough for him to want to pass out. He didn’t however. His consciousness was still maddeningly persistent, a likely result of a history of beatings. Though magically getting his ass handed to him was definitely a first. An experience he had no desire of repeating. He could feel her coming toward him. Her body had cast a shadow over him, blocking the first glimpse of the morning sun, yet she felt distinctly warmer. There was a long pause. She must’ve said something but his ears were receptive to little else but a long ringing sound. He begged his eyes to close but it kept blinking, tracing the red, blistered, rings that wrapped around his wrists with a strange mixture of morbid fascination and caution. As if, if he were to close his eyes fully he might open them to something that was much worse. A part of him knew that it would heal, eventually, but the sight of it—the reminder of its existence—sent a sort of phantom pain to leak into everyone fibre of his being. It turned his blood to lead and weighed his bones; it hindered any true relief and made being grateful, which was already in short supply, that much more difficult. He was tired. So tired. And so so hungry. The cold floor of the pub’s parking lot did not help in this but in his current state, the thought of moving, let alone sitting up, seemed like a feat of near impossible scale. Why the fuck didn’t he just fucking pass out? It took another moment for him to realise that Nell was still there, standing over him. Distanced and wary. He thought he could see tears in her eyes though it was difficult to tell considering the state of his own vision; average at best and decidedly worse when impaired by pain and fatigue. He could see her mouth moving, forming words that he only caught bits and pieces of.

“Nell…I,” His throat was raw. His speech painstaking; the effects of the fatigue, the magic, the pain, a combination of all of them. Frank takes them even slower, because somehow, despite still being on the floor—a man of over 6 feet reduced to a heap of meat and bone at her feet—it’s less mortifying than to stumble over each word. “I didn’t do…anything.” This was not untrue…entirely. Frank had always thought himself separate from his gancanagh heritage; an unwanted inheritance of a father that did not have the care to teach him how to live with it or the patience to teach him how to use it. He was the legacy of a man that didn’t care for one and didn’t want one; the product of one night’s oversight that he elected to ignore. Everything that was good and decent about him was the direct result of his mother, his very human mother. Frank cleared his throat, formed the rest of the sentence in his head before saying it. Two seconds turn into three, turn into four before he found it. God he was so tired. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to…I don’t know how to...”

There was a long moment of silence that stretched between them as Nell processed what it was Frank had said. Of course she’d heard of fae that didn’t have control over their abilities. And it wasn’t just fae that fell into that category. There were countless supernaturals out there who had been thrust into the world with little understanding of what they were, and what they could do— let alone the dangers they posed untrained. Her next choice of words were morally questionable, but they were something she needed to help quell the nerves that wouldn’t leave her be. “You promise?” she asked, knowing the weight the words would hold. As soon as they were fulfilled, she’d happily release the binding phrase. “You promise you didn’t intend to control me with pheromones?” It was, perhaps, wrong of her to steal away some of Frank’s control by voicing her carefully crafted question. But it was the only way she could think to take some of her own power back, as well as know for certain whether he was being truthful or not.

“Do you know what you are?” was the next question she posed, figuring it was the most logical follow up. If he didn’t know how to control himself, there was a large chance he was also unaware of his lack of literal humanity. If Frank didn’t know his own species, Nell would have to prepare herself to tell him, and hope that it went over better with him than any attempts to acquaint Regan with the supernatural had gone. “You’re hurt,” she observed yet again, her eyes darting towards his wrists to get a better look at them. “Let me see.” Her sentences were short in an attempt to hide the shaking that was still wracking her hands. She didn’t want it to bleed into her words as well, and reveal just how deeply she’d been affected. It was silly, considering her outburst not two minutes ago. Surely Frank was already aware of how badly she’d reacted. Still- her pride wouldn't allow for anything else. With a quick little spell, she Summoned a jar to her hand, figuring there was no need to hide her magic any longer after what had just occurred. Inside it was the aforementioned healing salve her mother had taught her to make, one of the only useful things she’d gained from the woman.

“I promise…I promise.” He said, without knowing its true meaning. He felt the weight of it sink into the marrows of his bones; it beckoned to something ancient within him, a strangeness that was unfamiliar to him yet whose powers made up every fibre in his beings. He felt it, vividly—if truth was a thing to be felt it was this, and yet Frank could not put words nor meaning to it so he let it go and did not think about it. Even if he wanted to, there was not much time for him to dwell on it. Apparently satisfied with his answer, Nell was poised with another question. His eyes followed her shadow up to her eyes. She knew what he was, and she knew it well. A history he did not know, only that its effects were striking. She knew what he was well enough to be afraid, so afraid in fact that she had him reduced to a writhing mess at her feet. He recognised the fear, for it was the very same thing that forced a distance between him and everyone he met, that put fire to his constant supply of cigarettes to keep his body warm and ebbed his appetite, that poured glass after glass of alcohol down his throat to keep his abilities dulled and subdued, for however long it might last. It was if he had been looking into a mirror, only now it was Nell’s face that was looking back at him. It made him sick, and through the nausea he forced out the words, “yes…I know what I am.” He knew what he could do, the problem was he didn’t know how he did it. How not to do it.

Frank didn’t see her take out the jar, or where she could have possibly hid it on her person. Then he decided that if she could create invisible ropes that burned through his skin, that she could pull out a whole ass jar out of nothing. Pride might have objected to receiving her help, but he hadn’t the strength to move away and as he was still on the floor, he was in no position to say no. He was just glad for the moment of rest. “I guess I was wrong.” He managed to say, a dawn of a smile cracking across his lips. It looked tired, but the humour could be heard laced through his words, “today is the day I get to try your salve after all.”

Frank’s immediate promise was more than enough to finally and fully convince Nell that the man hadn’t had any ulterior intentions, or had intended to do what he’d done in the first place. But that only caused the flicker of worry in her stomach to reignite for two reasons. The first being that he’d so readily agreed to a promise. It was telling of how little he might actually know about himself and the world around him. As soon as he was done with his own binding, Nell was quick to be rid of it. “I release you of your promise,” she uttered, parroting the words Jared had said to her not all that long ago. “You shouldn’t make promises that instantly,” she warned. Nell would have to tell him the intricacies of that later. The second worry on her mind was his apparent lack of control. If Frank didn’t know how to regulate his abilities— it made him a danger both to others and himself. A gancanagh that didn’t know how to control himself would be a prime target for any Hunter. “Okay,” she managed to say sagely. At least Frank knew he wasn’t human. That was something, right? She could work with that.

Finally, Nell let herself crumple to the ground to sit with her legs beneath her- shoulders going lax as she settled closer to Frank with her jar. She was careful to keep a healthy little distance between them, not yet calmed enough to get as near to him as she might have before the early morning and all its events. Scooping a healthy glop of the salve out of its container, she first reached for Frank, but then hesitated. “I- you should probably do it.” Who knew if his pheromones would kick in any moment? Causing that skin crawling panic to grip her once again? Frank’s tentative trease caught her off guard, and a pit of uncertainty lodged itself in her stomach as she tried to figure out whether or not she was ready to joke with him again. “I guess you were,” was all she settled for, a neutral territory that could go either way. Even if he hadn’t meant to control her- it had still happened, and the dread was still living in her gut, a lingering after effect of her hysteria. “But we should go home.” After this twilight, they could probably both use the sleep. “Once you’ve put on a good amount of that salve on. Actually- you should keep it.” It sure looked as if he could use it while working at Soul on the Rocks.

A wordsmith was not a quality that was ever attributed to Frank, and certainly not if his high school English teacher had anything to say about it! In fairness Frank was much more accomplished with his hands than with his words, which suited him fine if you consider how little he had to say to anybody now. Although if anyone had the curiosity to ask, they would know that Frank loved words. Reading it. Speaking it. Words just sounded that much more delicious when it came from Frank’s mouth and he loved to say it, he loved it so well it seemed almost forbidden somehow (then he learned that perhaps it was). The words were in itself its own feeling, ironically enough they were much more difficult to describe than pain when you’ve stubbed your toe or feeling hungry or fired. You can describe the sensation of stubbing your toe with the word ‘pain’ but how do you even begin to describe the sensation of the word ‘pain’? How do you describe the sensation of the word ‘release’? But she had said it and he felt it, and then he was very confused all over again, and this only made him more tired.

Then came the second blow: I guess you were. He had always felt inwardly the effects of his abilities, guilt was not so potent when the people affected by his abilities were usually ignorant of it. It was something else entirely when he could see its effects, made worse somehow worse when held under the glare of the morning light, as if heaven itself was casting judgement. Shame sat on Frank’s tongue, sharp and acidic, it made the word hard to swallow so he had to force it out, “right.” He was about to go on when a familiar softness returned; regardless of his own penitence it would not ease Nell’s pain to deal out his own. She too was in pain, and it was his fault. “Call yourself a cab Nell. Please.” He offered her a smile, and it looked pained when carried between set jaws as he willed himself to sit up. He produced his phone from his pocket. It was without a scratch on it, which was a surprise to him considering that morning’s ordeal. He pushed it toward her, “don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you should sit in the same car as me right now.”

The pinks and purples of the early morning sky were beginning to take over most of the horizon, and the light peeking over the horizon cast Frank and Nell in a gentler light, blurring their features and giving the world an almost ethereal glow. It was strange to see the beauty of the morning following moments that had been full of strife and suffering. It was cyclical as always. Even if this had been the end of their evenings, it was the beginning of a new day for the rest of the world. And even if these last few minutes had been filled with worry and shame, it wouldn’t last forever. For inexplicable reasons it was the mention of a cab that finally helped Nell find her center as Taki paced the perimeter of her and Frank, his tail brushing against either one of them every now and then. “I didn’t let you throw me into a cab the first night,” she began carefully, toeing the line of recovery as she took a shuddering breath. “And I’m sure as hell not gonna let you do it now.” He was right about the car, though. That would have been too much for her even if she could feel normalcy slowly returning to her fingertips.

“I’ll just jog home. I have good jogging partners,” Nell finished somewhat cryptically, glancing towards her familiar who let out a dog’s bark at being mentioned despite looking like a cat. “And I usually take a morning run.” It was always how she started her day. Looking to Frank’s car, she internally winced as she saw the dent there. “Ah- sorry...about that. I can help get it fixed.” Looking over Frank once more, she decided that if they were going to avoid a repeat, either with one another or with Frank and someone else- there were some important trips they’d have to take in the future. Obviously the man would have to learn to control what he had, but a decent enough short-term remedy would come in the form of pheromone blockers. “I’ll message you once I get home,” she offered as she stood to go as a means of telling him this hadn’t been an ending. Just like the sun of the new day they’d come around again. Her nerves might still be telling her that there was danger about, but just because they’d cracked didn’t mean they need be broken.

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