#mackenzie moore

[xartwrk]

Proof Of Life by Joy Oladokun Painting by Mackenzie Moore (x)

[1day1coverart]

+ artist : Kacey Musgraves + title : Deeper Well (2024) + art direction : Kacey Musgraves, Kelly Christine Sutton, Mackenzie Moore, Ashley Kohorst + photography : Kelly Christine Sutton

* All images are copyrighted by their respective owners. If you do not wish to upload an image, please contact me.

[heatherrper-tow]

Mackenzie Moore walked down candle-lit streets, avoiding the marigolds with careful steps and keeping his head down.

When he was small, his mother used to bring him and Alexandria close, whispering to them old stories from home: traditions and tales and holidays. She would tell them of Finados, and the day after the Catholic's All Saint's Day, she would take them to the cemetery, and they would celebrate the lives of their dead there.

Their dead were lost siblings and infant murders, but Adriana wanted her children to understand their culture, even a little bit, and they lit candles and prayed over little headstones and little graves. And then they would leave, and on Sundays Johnny would drag them into church to reflect on their sins and repent, and Mackenzie would stare up and wonder why it was that the Catholics celebrated Jesus' death more than his life.

It had been a long time since he had stepped foot in a church or stopped to celebrate the lives of dead loved ones on Finados, however; when he died himself, but came back something hollow and cold and unholy. He thought it would be a little bit too ironic for a dead thing to remember the dead as they were.

And sometimes, Mackenzie didn't want to remember them at all.

Stopping at a crosswalk, he stared across the street at a few crowded apartment buildings with day old Halloween decorations and flower petals drifting lazily in front of them. He knew that all around the Isle, those who had moved on had come back to visit their loved ones. To say their goodbyes, and to catch up on time lost, and to apologize or be apologized to - that it was Dia de los Muertos and a time to celebrate.

He knew he should probably do something to pay his respects, at least. It would only be polite, and if he was nothing else, 'Kenzie was polite. But he knew he wouldn't, and instead he made his way home; climbing up the stairs to his third floor apartment that he knew had no one inside right now because Dom and Elisa were probably doing something and Goose hadn't been around for a long while.

Opening the door, then, he froze when he heard laughter down the hall.

"Oh, mamãe, don't be so silly! You were always good to us!"

"Your lies ease an old woman's heart, amado, but really. I know what I was."

Slowly closing the door, so as not to startle the familiar voices, Mackenzie made his way towards the kitchen. He could hear what seemed like the echoes of pots and pans clanging together; the old cast iron ones, not the new ones with the no-stick bottoms that he bought in case anyone from work ever wanted to come over. Or in case Lyron wanted to practice new recipes and 'Kenzie wanted to avoid the critique on his dishware.

He stopped by the doorway, watching the scene in front of him with a dawning sense of hope and dread mixed together.

Adriana Moore stood in front of the stove, her dark, smooth skin an opaque, smoky brown that suggested she was not quite there. Her dark curls, with their reddish hint that only showed in the right light, was tied up and back, out of her face, as she moved about the kitchen as if she were cooking. Her face was somewhat aged, and she wore clothes that she wouldn't have worn when 'Kenzie knew her, but she was his mother, alright. The curved-in shoulders and slouched posture screamed Adriana's perpetually tired existence, even after death.

Seated around the table, Alexandria, Maria, Katrina and Elizabeth were all there, looking towards their mother with various expressions of contentedness. Alexandria was beautiful, with soft, curling brownish red hair and the Moore eyes. Johnny's eyes made far more kind than they had ever been on Johnny himself. She was pale, freckled, and she wore simple clothes, plain clothes and a large engagement ring. She and 'Kenzie had always looked the most alike. He could almost see it.

Maria was sprawled out across the table next to Alexandria, her dark hair spilling out around her tanned face. Here was Adriana's girl, but more lively than her mother had ever been. She dressed well in sequins and lace, a box-like dress and rings on each finger. A bead of pearls wrapped twice around her neck, and he remembered the photographs, remembered her beaten and bloody and barely recognizable, and it was so good to see her whole.

Katrina sat slightly separated from Maria and Alexandria, holding a cup of smoky, steaming tea in her hands. Dark hair and dark eyes blended in to a dark face to become something understated and soft and warm. Her hair was braided and she wore a nightgown and slippers and she looked tired, just like mamãe. He remembered her as only small, a young girl watching him make his way to the train station; clinging to her mother's skirts.

Elizabeth was completely apart from the others, leaning back in her seat, nigh-unrecognizable to 'Kenzie except for the freckles that he had always known she would grow into. She was older, a woman fully grown, and her dark hair was cropped short and her dark eyes were sharp and vicious, but there was a gentleness to her mouth and she wore an engagement ring as easily as she wore her nice clothes. She had been four when he had left, four, and he never saw her grow up - only saw her buried.

They all turned to him, then, and he froze where he stood, caught by a mix of light and dark eyes by all the women he had failed.

"...Well, Mackenzie, meu filho, aren't you going to come here and give your mamãe a hug?"

Without seeming to think about it, 'Kenzie walked over to Adriana and put his arms around her. She was cool but solid enough and he buried his face into her shoulder and curved around her; never realizing just how small his mother had always been. Her hands reached around him, fingers burying into the hair she gave him, and he let out something like a sob.

"Oh, my boy, my love, amor, it's okay - I'm here, now, it's okay."

"Mamãe, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I meant to come back, I swear I meant to, sinto muito, me perdoe."

"Bebê, 'Kenzie, no, no it's okay, you did nothing wrong."

He pulled back, staring down at her; her hands framing his face. She stared up at him with love; happiness and tiredness and trepidation, but love over all of that. She had always looked at him as if he were going to be her saviour. Always looked at him with hope and fear and expectation. This was different; this was new.

"...But I failed you."

"How could you fail me, hm? Tell me that, filho, tell me how you could fail me. You were killed. You were taken away from me; taken by another, brought into a family that was not mine. You cannot have failed me, then. You could not have come back to me. You weren't mine, anymore."

"But mamãe--"

"Listen to mamãe, okay? Listen to me. I failed you, Mackenzie. I failed you. I raised you to think you had to save me, and I encouraged it. I encouraged this thought that you had to protect your mother. And bebê, you did - you always protected me. You took more beatings from that man than any of us combined. You were black and blue and green and yellow all of the time, and you left school to make sure we could live in our home, and you became a father to your sisters. You were everything. And you shouldn't have been." She patted his cheeks, sighing and shaking her head. "Plain as that, you shouldn't have been. You should have had the chance to be a boy. I made you grow up too fast."

She let go of him, stepping back and looking towards her daughters, all who watched the two of them quietly.

"I made all of you grow up too fast. Forgive your mamãe?"

The girls all looked to each other, and 'Kenzie stayed next to his mother as Adriana stood there and waited for their answer. Then Katrina stood up, followed by Maria and Alexandria - Elizabeth last, always last, the youngest there and the angriest.

They came up to Adriana, and as one they all wrapped their arms around her, resting their heads against her shoulders and back and chest. Katrina whispered something against her skin and Alexandria brushed back silvery tears; and Maria, brash and irresponsible and lively Maria, reached out to 'Kenzie and dragged him in as well.

He buried his face in Maria's hair and pretended that he could smell wildflowers and for the first time since he had died, his heart didn't ache so much when he thought about his family.

Elizabeth then pulled back, turning to 'Kenzie and smiling at him with that surprisingly gentle mouth.

"Now that we have that out of the way - big brother, who is Raymond Morales?"

Mackenzie stared at his sister for a long moment before letting out a startled laugh, grinning and shaking his head.

"No comment."

"Oh, come now irmão, tell us! Tell us!" Katrina cried, turning to him and grinning. He smiled.

"How about this - you tell me about yourselves, and then maybe I'll tell you."

"No fair!"

[heatherrper-tow]

Made of Precious Metals

Adriana's hands had been weak things.

Mackenzie remembered his mother well, despite the decades since he'd last seen her. Her dark hair, ringlets braided severely-tight against the nape of her neck, eyes worn and tired; lines at the corners of her mouth from frowning for years that only disappeared when she smiled. He remembered the roughness of her skin from hard work and defence; remembered her voice, quiet and low and tired but still willing to sing lullabies when he couldn't sleep at night.

He remembered her spine of steel that would straighten every time Johnny got a little too rough with Mackenzie, who wasn't his first choice, or his second choice, but his third - his third because Adriana kept on taking away the others to spit in his face and spite him.

But her hands had been weak, and while she would defend the children she chose to keep - her first choices, her only choices, hers and her control over herself - she had never been able to hold them.

He remembered that she'd brush back his hair, so much like hers but not, and her fingers would shake; that she would sing lullabies while her fingers plucked at her blouse and she tried to keep still. When Alexandria was born, she passed her onto 'Kenzie as soon as he learned how to hold her, and Adriana barely held her again after that.

It was no wonder to 'Kenzie, then, that she eventually killed herself when the ones she could not hold but could protect were all gone - in jail or dead or ran away. He remembered hearing about it from somewhere, he couldn't even remember where - and he remembered that he had not cried.

He'd felt relief, mostly - it meant Adriana finally took total control of herself. She had agency, if only for a moment, and he was glad she had that even as it killed her.

Standing on the shore of one of Normandy's many beaches, he stared out at the water as it reflected moon and starlight. A little ways away, a festival on the boardwalk was alive and well, and he could hear music and distant chattering. But he paid them little attention as he watched the waves, rubbing his arms and remembering his mother.

Footsteps made him look over his shoulder, and he smiled a little as he caught sight of Elisa and Dom making their way over to him, the two of the chatting happily. Elisa held some kind of drink in her hand and had put on a floppy sunhat because 'you wore sunhats to the beach, 'Kenz, duh'. Dom was fiddling with the strings on his hoodie, unzipped to let in the night's cool air; a relief from the heat of the day still seeped into sand.

He noted the way that Elisa's hands flailed around her as she spoke, flaring in importance and dramatics; noted that Dom's hands were steady, a little bruised up from some of their boxing practice but still strong, good hands. Solid hands, that could hold anything, and he wondered for a moment if they were okay with hold him up as he had once held up Adriana Moore.

"'Kenzie! C'mon, you gotta check out some of these booths - there's facepainting!"

The fledgling grinned and walked over to them, hooking his arms around their shoulders and guiding them back to the boardwalk with a little push and nudge. 

Adriana's hands had been weak things - her heart worn and tired.

But she had a spine of steel, and she passed that on to him - and he was perfectly okay with the inheritance.

[heatherrper-tow]

Shall We Dance?

"Okay, but 'Kenz - what in the world are ya s'posed to be?"

Mackenzie blinked, looking back at Ray before grinning a wide, prize-winning smile. Ray was honestly impressed he'd managed to keep all his teeth, all things considering. 'Kenzie's hobbies didn't tend to be kind to the face back in the day.

"You can't tell? I'm the Pauper, dressed as the Prince for the day." He elbowed Ray softly in the side, before linking their elbows together and dragging him out to the dance floor. "Really, Ray - brush up on your fairytales! But later, right now I wanna dance with you."

"The last time we danced it ended terribly."

"The last time we danced was like a year ago and it's officially been too long. We are going to amend that. And this time no one is going to be stabbed. This is, after all, a charity for children. I don't think even the worst of people on this Isle are going to attack people when this is for kids. That's like. Beyond heartless?" Mackenzie paused, seeming to think over his words, and then snorted. "Okay, I might be a bit of an optimist, but honestly - there will be no stabbing tonight. I'm pretty sure the entire coven is making sure of it. In their own, discreet ways."

Ray frowned, tugging 'Kenzie closer and wrapping his arm around his shoulders. He bent down to press a kiss to the top of his curly hair; feeling 'Kenzie relax into his side with an unnecessary but familiar sigh of contentment.

"I won't let anything happen, either."

"And you're not at all discreet."

Ray snorted, 'Kenzie grinning up at him, before he realized they were on the dance floor. Without further ado, 'Kenzie grabbed his hand and placed it on his waist, stepping up to the taller pureblood with an expectant smile.

"Now then, Raymond Morales - let's make this dance a far better memory. Dance with me, would ya?"

What other choice did he have, really?

The answer was none at all - and he was definitely okay with that.

[heatherrper-tow]

Take a Gamble on Me

The dim lights were surprisingly warm, Raymond Morales pulling his tie loose and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt to try and get some air. Everyone around him was talking animatedly, waving their hands about and moving over to where they could collect their bets. Those who had lost this round grumbled and glared at the half-Portuguese boxer still standing in the middle of the floor, bent over with his hands against his knees and breathing heavily.

Ray took a moment to look at him from the corner of his eye, pale blues curious.

He was a handsome man, that was for sure, with freckles dotting across the skin of his nose and cheeks and shoulders. Some even trailed down his arms, a constellation of skin-stars flecked across warm brown skin. Reddish-brown hair fell in curls from the crown of his head to his forehead and neck, unable to be tamed even with the strongest of waxes available (and plenty were available - slicked hair was becoming very popular).

Everything about Mackenzie Moore was warm, actually - everything but his eyes. Bright blue ice chips that, even when smiling, looked haunted by something.

And they were looking right at him.

Ray stiffened, turning his head slowly and facing Mackenzie properly. The boxer was staring at him with a contemplative expression - before he suddenly smiled, nodding in greeting and turning away from him without a word. The bootlegger watched him leave, feeling confused and a bit lost, but shook his head and turned away. He collected his winnings as he left - he knew better than to bet against Moore - sliding easily through the crowds despite his size and out into the chilly night air.

Shoving a cap on his head, he rummaged around in his pockets for a cigarette and then, once finding one, went about looking for a lighter. The click of a lighter sounded just as someone stepped up in front of him, and Ray automatically leaned down to accept the offered flame, looking up to see cool blue eyes and a warm smile.

"Did I make you some good winnings?" Mackenzie Moore asked, tucking his lighter away into his jacket. A pageboy cap was tucked under his arm, sweaty curls loose about his head. In the moonlight, his brown skin was washed out - but his freckles stood out.

Ray shrugged his shoulder, smiling a lopsided grin and inhaling deeply. When he exhaled, he directed the smoke up so that it wouldn't hit the boxer in the face.

"Yeah, I made out alright - thanks for not losin' tonight."

"I try."

Ray snorted, 'Kenzie grinning, and after a moment the two started down the street. Neither spoke for the first half of the walk, but when they stopped at a street corner, the both of them carefully watching a vagabond stumbling drunk from wherever the closest speakeasy was, 'Kenzie spoke up.

"I haven't seen you since Goose's."

"No," Ray agreed, blowing smoke up into the sky again. 'Kenzie watched from beside him, posture relaxed but shoulders tensed, and Ray knew that if anyone so much as twitched wrong they'd have a fist in their face, most likely with brass knuckles.

Moore was known for the beautiful golden brass knuckles, shined clean of blood after every fight. He kept better care of it than he did himself, most days.

"Decided not to bother with trouble like me, rumrunner?"

Ray shook his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette after a moment and watching it smoulder and die. 'Kenzie shifted, bumping into Ray's side, and the taller man looked down at the shorter.

"Your boss and my boss don't exactly see eye to eye."

"Well, Tahno's not exactly the tallest."

Ray laughed, shaking his head and grinning to himself. He looked back to 'Kenzie, who was suppressing his own smile; watching him from the corner of his eye with amusement in cold eyes.

"You know what I mean, 'Kenzie."

"Yeah, I know." Mackenzie sighed, running his fingers through his hair for a moment before finally shoving the cap onto his head. "Wish it wasn't like that, though. I like talkin' t'ya, Ray. You don't treat me like a mutt."

"'Kenzie..."

Mackenzie shook his head, smiling ruefully. He made as if to go for a moment, before pausing, turning back towards Ray. Reaching up, he grabbed the Morales boy by his tie and dragged him down, pressing a whisper of a kiss to his cheek; stubble scraping against shaved skin.

'Kenzie then let go and stepped away, turning and walking down the street without another word.

Ray watched him with wide eyes, the feel of a whiskery kiss on his cheek still and the memories of something more on his mind as he watched the boxer walk away from him for a second time.

This time, he didn't come back.

[heatherrper-tow]

It's Not Enough for Me

He really, honestly doesn't. It's an honest living, after all. And it's hard work, from what 'Kenzie's told him. The lights get hot, and sometimes the clothes are uncomfortable, or the room's too cold. Sometimes, when they're outside, it starts raining and they have to wait for it to pass. And sometimes they don't get to eat for hours and hours, rather picking at food and things until they can get a proper meal in their bellies.

It's not too bad when it's a supernatural photoshoot, because at least the people there know to keep blood close by for him, but still. There's difficulties. Ray respects that he works hard for this job.

He just sometimes really, really hates it.

Not the job - we've just gone over that. Ray respects the hard work and dedication of the job. But he hates when people get to touch 'Kenzie and dress him or undress him to their whims, like he's a mannequin or a doll and not really a person. He hates when he's called 'the model' or 'the subject'; hates that they mess with his hair and his face and his freckles because they need him to look perfect.

He just hates seeing 'Kenzie come home tired and feeling a little less than. It's not right, nor fair, nor anything good.

His thoughts are interrupted when the door shuts with a click, and he looks over to see Mackenzie trudging into his apartment. Not his own - Elisa and Dom and maybe Goose are holed up in there, watching movies and tossing popcorn at the screen despite none of them being able to eat it. Ray knows 'Kenzie loves his family, but after long days he can't handle them.

So he comes over to Ray's, and Ray doesn't mind in the slightest.

The boxer-turned-vampire-gone-model shucks off his jacket and his shoes, dropping both in their respective places and shuffling into the living room where Ray sits, sketchbook in his lap and pale eyes intently watching the boy from New York's progress.

When 'Kenzie makes it to the front of the couch, Ray moves the sketchbook, and 'Kenzie promptly falls over into his lap and curls against his side. After shifting for a few moments, Ray rests his arm along 'Kenzie's side, hand along his ribs and tapping out piano notes against the bumps of his ribcage.

"Hey," he says after a moment, looking down at the fledgling and smiling a little to see him half-asleep already. "Long day?"

"Fitting," 'Kenzie mumbles, turning his face to bury against Ray's thigh, and Ray snickers a bit, running his hand down the other's side and squeezing his hip lightly. Followed by a shoot not for Edan - some other photographer who was in town and wanted to get some pictures. My portfolio is full of more skin than clothes, it's a tragedy."

"Another shirtless one?"

"I'm honestly lucky I had pants at some point."

Ray frowns, brows furrowing; his grip on 'Kenzie hip tightening just a bit. 'Kenzie makes a noise that is neither approving nor disapproving, but Ray loosens his grip all the same; smoothing his palm over the soft fabric of faded jeans in apology.

"What's up, Ray?" 'Kenzie asks after a moment. Ray thinks for a moment of shrugging it off as nothing; telling him it's not important and letting it go without making a big deal. After all, it's not a big deal - not really. Ray just doesn't like some aspects of 'Kenzie's job. He's sure 'Kenzie feels the same about Inkling in one way or another. Maybe his hours. Probably his hours.

But he looks down to see 'Kenzie's open expression, and he knows that the fledgling will know he's not really telling the truth - and Ray doesn't want to lie. He's lied enough to 'Kenzie for ten lifetimes. He shouldn't lie when he doesn't have to.

He shouldn't even have to, not about dumb stuff.

"I don't like it when you have to do things you don't like," Ray says, shrugging. "I don't like it when they don't try you like a person but like a tool. ...That's all."

'Kenzie stares up at him for a moment, lips pursed, before he reaches up and wraps his hand around the back of Ray's neck. Tugging him down, and pulling himself up, he kisses Ray without a word; quiet and simple and soft, only pulling away when he thinks they should.

Sometimes Ray doesn't think they should; 'Kenzie only grins when Ray says this, but doesn't disagree.

"Reason one hundred and some-odd why I love you," 'Kenzie says with a wide grin, and Ray snorts, shaking his head and quirking a half-smile. "It's nice to know you care, Ray."

"Well, why shouldn't I?"

'Kenzie doesn't answer for a long moment, gaze going faraway and sad, and Ray suddenly remembers a hospital and an old man on life support, staring at 'Kenzie like he was a possession and not a gift.

"...It's nice to know you care."

His voice is too soft and too meek, so Ray leans down and kisses him again - just to show him how much he cared. 

[heatherrper-tow]

He doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he thinks it was probably sometime during the end of the first Star Wars or the beginning of the second one. 

Original trilogy. Not the new ones - those are garbage. 

But ice crawls through his veins and freezes organs that have already failed, static fills his ears, and Mackenzie Moore jolts awake with a gasp and a shudder as suddenly as he fell asleep.

But the tv's quiet, now, and Dom and Elisa have probably stepped out somewhere for whatever reason, but he can still hear them not too far off. He thinks he might see Goose in the corner of his vision but it's been a while since he's seen the ghost, and he's becoming concerned again for his friend. 

There is a stone in his chest and pain in the back of his head and 'Kenzie takes the moment he has to himself to bury his face in his hands and breathe in deeply, even though his lungs shriek in protest. 

Another night of no sleeping. 

And he doesn't even know why.