#slayerkanika

[wotwredux]

Sanctuary

@slayerkanika

Julia couldn’t let her new friend be homeless. Julia couldn’t let her new friend’s grades slip like a clifftop house crumbling into an inclement sea. Julia couldn’t let her only friend go without her help. 

Kanika Devan Celeber didn’t just need heroin, she needed a heroine. A friend. Someone to give her a roof over her head and a foundation beneath her feet. 

She took her hand and took her heart. 

Leading her up her garden path, Julia smiled; “Mummy says you can live with us until you’re less poorly.”

She lead her to her bedroom. Two possibilities; Julia was a vampire slayer, or even more fanatical in her faith than previously thought. Alas, it was probably the latter.

A crucifix rivaling God himself in size loomed over her bed. Large enough to crucify an actual person on. Should it fall, it would crush the Catholic to death in her bed before she’d have a chance to say her last prayer. On the other side of the room was a painting of the Virgin Mary. There was even a vial of holy water next to her bed.

“Got that for my eighteenth birthday, I did. From Bethlehem. You know where that is, Kanika? That’s where Jesus was born.” She beamed. 

Otherwise the room was spartan, with but a vase of daisies by her windowsill and a picture of her and Will Pratt by her bedside. Oh, and enough porcelain ponies to stir a ceramic stampede. All of them black mares. 

Taking Kan’s hands again, she kissed her chastely on the lips. Not understanding how that could be misinterpreted. 

“Do you like it, Kanika? I’ve got you some welcome home presents too.”

[wotwredux]

Julia

London, 1860.

Kanika Devan Celeber was found in London, the heart of the industrial revolution. The city breathed more smoke than a swarm of dragons, though the real monsters were the aristocratic greed, the exploitation of the poor, and the growing pains of a world awkwardly metamorphosing into modernity. Oh, and vampires. 

But at least vampires were demons Kanika stood a chance at slaying. 

Factories dwarfed the poor Slayer, almost as though to remind her that even The Chosen One was powerless in comparison. The buildings loomed and leered and sneered not unlike the man she came here to kill. And yet even he would’ve seemed impotent up against these jarring sights, the Capital of England in all its titanic advances. 

It was a sunny day, but fumes blotted out the sun. 

When Julia Keeble spotted the Slayer lying on her back, she rushed towards her. 

“Oh dear, are you okay, miss?” She gasped, helping her to her feet. “Oh, you poor thing...”

She looked nothing like what she would become. She was sun-kissed and kind-eyed with an innocence that could never be reclaimed once lost. A bonnet framed her face, a pretty decoration in an ugly city. A cross hung from her neck.

A slayer shouldn’t have been here to save her. The real Slayer at that moment was in Bengal, India. Zakia Kahn would go on to lead a successful four years as The Chosen One, saving many lives if not her own, but Julia wasn’t to be one of them.

And yet- unbeknownst to her- she had just helped a Slayer up. 

Welcome to a world of smallpox and cholera and typhoid and poverty and back-breaking work for the masses and- in case Kan had forgotten- the aforementioned vampires she had to protect this Catholic girl from.

This was purely so Drusilla- the love of her life who Kanika adored with all her wrecked soul- would cease to exist.

Matters were complicated. 

[wotwredux]

Asylum

@slayerkanika

According to Dr Ackermann, Drusilla’s salvation was not a higher power from the heavens above, or the arms of a loving wife, or a soul. No, Drusilla’s salvation was to be a large grey box. A large grey box known as ‘Eventide: Mental Health Institution for Supernatural Beings.’ Of course, it advertised itself as an old warehouse, but in reality it was a zoo for deranged demons, wherein which the patients could be visited once a week by loved ones. 

It had been six days since Drusilla had been dragged into Eventide kicking and screaming, not unlike the events that drove her insane in the first place. Only now were Kanika and Darla allowed to visit. They sat in the visitors room, with muzzled vampires and catatonic chaos demons and even the odd vengeance demon (hell help who dared lock up one of them). The nurse- human, as were all the administration here- said Drusilla would only be a moment, but it took 45 minutes before guards escorted the seer to the visiting room.

The beautiful dresses she wore even when her and Kan festered in the slums had been replaced with oversized grey overalls. Her hair, which her lovers once brushed for so often with so much care, was now as tangled as the mess of her mind. Her wedding ring was absent. 

Unlike some of the vampires there, she wasn’t muzzled. but she was handcuffed. Hesitantly, the guards removed the cuffs when they sat her down at the table. She stared silently at Kan and Darla, eyes dead as a corpse’s should be.

[wotwredux]

The Soulless Slayer

Losing your soul is a lot like losing your virginity; it’s much prized while it’s there, but once it’s gone, you don’t really miss it. Of course, the world will judge you for not having it anymore, but who cares about the world? Similarly, losing your soul is also akin to losing your memory; you forget what it was like to even have the thing in the first place.

“Pony?” Called Drusilla cheerfully, joining the newly risen Slayer on the balcony. “Pony had the wishing eels plucked from beneath her breast. Grr...”

She nuzzled her lovingly, looking out over the city-scape of Berlin as she did so. 

“I love London.” She sighed dreamily.