#victordrabble

[normallyxstrange]

30 Days of Writing –  April 2019 –  One Word Prompts

Day 4: “Storm”

© 2019 F.R. Southerland

feat. Victor & Mara

1996

     It was just past noon and the sky was black. Sheets of rain fell, lashing against the window. This wasn't a normal rain. When it hit, it cut and sliced. The plants in the garden had taken the brunt of the assault so far, leaves battered and torn. The house would be next. Victor's anger was too great for a simple storm. How long before the vicious winds ripped apart the place brick by brick?

    She had to stop him.

    She knew precisely where to find him, but getting there would not be so easy. She wasn't like Mason—able to teleport her way to any place with just a few spoken words—but this was a desperate time. There was always a risk she wouldn't make it there at all, that her teleportation would be too far off the mark. It made her queasy, besides. But she had very little choice in the matter. Mara had to do what she had to do.

    A few moments passed as she stared out the window, watching the rain hit the window. She made up her mind a second later. “Keep an eye on Andy,” she murmured quietly, to Wren. The priestess gave a quiet confirmation and placed a hand on Mara's arm. It was meant to be comforting, but she only found her hand cold and clammy. She slipped away from the touch with a small nod. With luck, she'd be back home, with Victor, before her young daughter had even awoken.

    “No time like the present, then.” She gave a small laugh and stepped back. She knew the words of the spell, knew the power that went into it. Calling upon it, however, was easier said than done. Mara took a deep breath, exhaled it, then let her arms hang loosely at her sides. She allowed herself to feel—really feel—the magic hanging in the air. It tingled around her fingertips. She drew it in until she felt it buoyant beneath her skin.

    The words were thick on her tongue and fell heavy from her lips. Latin had always tasted strangely in her mouth, but she said the incantation anyway and prepared herself. It was disorienting and her stomach lurched into her throat. The light around her faded. Coldness seeped into her skin. The stinging rain pelted her skin and she winced. It was so sharp, she could imagine welts and rivulets of blood forming where it sliced. When she looked, there was nothing but water tracing down her arm. It wouldn't last though. Soon, it would be tinged with pink, then bright red, and then nothing but blood as she stood there.

    It wasn't exactly a vision, but Mara wouldn't risk it either way. She blinked a few times, waiting for her vision to adjust to the new darkness. When it did, she saw him right away.

    Her husband stood with his arms stretched out, his head inclined back. The rain hit his face and his hair and clothes were plastered to his skin. He'd surrendered entirely to the power of the storm. Mara was taken with how statuesque he looked. He had conjured all of this with sheer will, with the incredible force of his power. Wind whipped at his clothes, tore at his hair. His eyes stayed closed.

    Mara called his name but the wind carried the sound away before it reached him. The wind threatened to topple her, but she moved ahead anyway. “Victor.” And then again, louder. “Victor!”

    But he didn't move. Tentatively, Mara reached out. Her fingers touched his bicep. His muscles rippled beneath her touch. Just like that, the wind died down. The rain stop. The clouds stayed, but sunlight began to peek through, offering minimal light. But something was better than nothing.

    Victor lowered his arms. His eyes opened and he turned to look at her. His eyes had darkened with his magic and power and they lightened upon seeing her.

    “Mara...” His voice, though softly spoken, was loud in the following silence.

    “Shh.” She shushed him. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. She could feel it and it made a tight fist around her heart. “Just let it go. Let it go.”

    For a minute, the tension in his arms didn't abate and Mara feared he'd hold on to his anger—even lash out at her. She exhaled a breath of relief when he fully turned to face her. He seemed weary, older somehow. His arm trembled in her grasp. She drew him closer to her.

    “It'll be okay,” she whispered. Even if she didn't believe it, she didn't know what else to say. The storm was far from over.

[normallyxstrange]

Victor & Mason

Send two muses, see them interact (drabble prompt) | accepting

    Dawn broke, cold and bleak. Eventhe daylight breaking through the crowds did not warm the day’sstart. The sun rays illuminated the snow-covered street, blindinglyso. But Mason did not look away. There was something in the air onlyhe could sense—heavy, foreboding, dreadful.

    It was far too early for Vinnie tocome by. The youngest Foster was generally punctual, but a few hoursahead of schedule? Even her punctuality wouldn’t extend that farahead. He watched the street a few moments more before he drew backfrom the window and let the curtain fall.

    His vision adjusted quickly to thedarkness of the room. A haze hovered near to the ceiling, cigarettesmoke lingering from… something. Mason hadn’t smoked in this roomin some time, but it was unmistakable. With the smoke came the scentof burning tobacco and the sharp aroma of aged whiskey.  Afteranother, deliberate scent, he realized the scents were not real. Afabrication.

    Something—or someone—wastoying with him.

    There was no need to puzzle it outfurther. Victor materialized several feet before him seconds later.He was intangible, but he still held a certain amount of power evenin his spectral state.  Right now, he appeared as solid as any livingman.

    Mason greeted him with a  faintnod of his head. It wasn’t often the ghost revealed himself. Usually,there was some purpose. Victor rarely did anything idly. He wouldreveal his intention soon enough—the sooner the better, he hoped.Dealing with spirits was not on his agenda for today.

    For some time he’d been watchingMason. It was easy enough to do, at least for a short time,undetected. Unlike most people Victor haunted—an inaccurate termfor what he did, he felt—Mason could sense him. Despite knowing itwas never a good idea to play games with the half-demon, he couldnever restrain himself from testing the limits of how far he could gobefore he was detected.

    “An hour,” Victor said,amusement tinged his voice. “My best time yet.”

    Mason inclined his head ever soslightly. “Were you attempting to break a record again?” Hedidn’t sound so entertained.

    “I’m always looking to improvemyself, you know that.”

     He did. Victor was nothing if notambitious. “Then I suppose you will be disappearing once again intothe beyond? Soon?”

    “You’re always so quick todismiss me. Don’t you ever miss me?” Victor should’ve consideredhimself lucky. Mason could banish him with a few sharp words, if heso desired. He never did. That spoke more of their relationship thanVictor was willing to think about right now.

    Mason stepped to his desk,retrieving one of the many books piled there. He began to sort them,attention diverted to the task rather than his former friend andlover. “Perhaps I would… if you ever left me alone long enough.”

    Victor smiled tightly at that,then a laugh followed. He hovered, close by. “Maybe I will, soonenough. You won’t see me for days,” he told him. “Weeks.”

    “If only.” The corner ofMason’s mouth turned up—the first hint of genuine emotion there. Itlasted all of two seconds before it faded. “But leave now. I have aguest arriving shortly and I rather my attention not be divided.”

     “Mara?” Hope crept into histone at the mention of his wife—former wife’s?–name. Seeing her always brought him some level of comfort.

    “No.”

    “A student then.”

    “Of a sort.”

    Victor let out a breath—or whatpassed as breathing for the ghost—and with it came a lightlytriumphant chuckle. “One of the girls.”

    He paused and looked to him. “Yes.Vinnie. We have a lesson.”

    “I will be unobtrusive. Quiet.Carry on.” Victor wondered what instruction it could be.Telekinesis, perhaps. He knew his youngest daughter was not quite asadept with it as Andy, or himself. Practice was absolutely necessaryto grow and hone the talent. He fully intended to oversee the lesson.

    “You will be gone.” Masonfixed him with that impenetrable stare Victor knew so well. It earneda scoff.

    “It’s not as if she’ll see me orsense me any way.” None of them could. But Victor new it was a mootpoint to argue. Mason did not blink or look away and he understood hewas only a few seconds away from a banishing.

    “You will go away or I will sendyou away myself.”

    Victor narrowed his eyes, goodhumor gone entirely. The already diffused light dimmed further,crackled with the energy the spirit sent out. Mason did not break hisstare, not until Victor vanished from sight.

    He waited a moment, until he wascertain he could no longer feel his presence, before he let out abreath. Victor would return, he had no doubt of that, and he hoped itwouldn’t be until long after Vinnie left. It was getting more andmore difficult to block her from noticing Victor’s presence.Eventually, she would sense him, and eventually she could see him.

    But not today. Mason would makesure it wouldn’t be today.

[normallyxstrange]

“...you know this to be true” backstory drabble (original fiction) feat. Andy & Victor #fictober18

#Fictober18 prompt

Day 24:  “You know this, you know this to be true.”

featuring Andy & Victor

kidnapping // ; murder //

1997

    “Are they witches?” she asked, giving his hand a squeeze before she wriggled her fingers free of his grasp. His hand immediately moved to the small of her back, a comforting gesture. There were a lot of people in this crowd.

    “Some of them,” he murmured, “but let us pretend we are the only ones here. You know what that means.”

    Andy did. And she was disappointed. She didn't like having to hide her powers and pretend she wasn't a witch. Other people didn't understand magic. It might scare them. She didn't really get that part.

    The child gave an exaggerated sigh to express her displeasure. “Fine. I'll be good.”

    “Good.” His firm hand upon her shoulder steered her further through the crowd. “Let's find your mother so we can grab some lunch.”

    She was hungry so she eagerly skipped ahead. There was one place, a shop with great ice cream, where she knew her mother would be waiting. She didn't think it was far. She weaved her way through the people and made a beeline for the shop.

    Strong arms suddenly closed around her. Andy let out a startled gasp and turned her head. She didn't recognize the woman holding her, and she didn't recognize her whispered words either—only that this woman didn't care if others knew she was a witch. The words were a spell.

    Andy couldn't move, she couldn't speak, or cry for her dad. The woman held her tight and continued the murmurings under her breath, tucking Andy in to her side as she moved quickly through the crowd.

    Her heart raced. She tried to move but she was immobile. It filled her up with panic. The people didn't even notice that she was being taken. Faces passed by, each one oblivious to what was happening. She tried to call for her dad. She couldn't see him, but he had to be close. He had to be. She wanted her dad.

    The faces thinned out, the crowds gave way to an emptier alley. The woman spun with Andy in her arms. There was her father. He looked mad.

    “Put her down. Slowly.” He sounded mad too.

    The woman shook her head. Her spell stopped abruptly when she began to speak. “No. I can't. She belongs to us—to the Coven. You know this. You know this to be true.” She edged back, realizing she was cornered. “I have to do this. Don't you understand?”

    Andy squirmed and was free—and just for good measure she knocked the woman back with her powers. When she reached her father, he picked her up, one arm securing her to him. Her eyes closed, face buried into his chest.

    She could hear the woman pleading, explaining. She could feel the hum of power emanating from her father. There was a loud sound—a crack—then another sound, more like a thud. Andy tightened her eyes even more.

    Then they were moving, rushed movements back through the crowd. Her father's voice reassured her that everything was okay. They were safe.

    But Andy couldn't believe that.

© 2018 F.R. Southerland, @normallyxstrange​ / @frsoutherlandauthor​

[normallyxstrange]

“I hope you have a speech prepared” backstory drabble (original fiction) feat. Victor & Mara #fictober18

#Fictober18 prompt

Day 20:  “I hope you have a speech prepared.”

featuring Victor & Mara

1988

    “I hope you have a speech prepared.” Her laugh came out in a fog, drifting in the chilled air. Both cloud and sound vanished.

    “Speech?” Victor's eyebrows went up. Amusement quirked the corner of his mouth.

    “Speech—lecture.” Mara gave a small wave of her hand and another laugh followed. “You did say you were going to teach me something. So... teach.”

     He sucked on his teeth for a moment. “Mm, so I did.”

     “And,” she went on, inclining her head in a way that sent red hair cascading against faux fur trim, “I figure now's as good a time as any.” They'd had good food, good drinks, and the chill in the air was invigorating. “That's why you brought me here, right?” Her mouth pulled into a grin.

    He couldn't help his own grin. “It may be a little too cold for what I originally planned.”

She slapped his chest playfully. “Hey now.”

    This time the laughter was his. “Alright, alright. I'll behave. But... since you want a lecture.” He shifted away from her on the blanket and stood, offering a hand. “Come on. I'll give you one.”

    Mara slipped her gloved hand into his and stood with him. “What's the topic? Transmogrification? Conjuring? Something taboo that would send my coven into spasms if I knew of it?”

    “Mm, the topic is astrology.”

    “Astrology? Really? I never would've pegged you as an astrologer.”

    “I'm not,” Victor said, bringing her along with him a few feet away, further into the clearing. “The sky's clear tonight, and the stars—just look for yourself.”

    And she did. He'd chosen a wonderful spot for their impromptu night picnic—far from the city, and far from the prying eyes of their opposing covens. The sky was lovely—absolutely breathtaking.

    “Do you know much about constellations?” he asked. When Mara shook her head, Victor continued. “I learned a bit. Not my forte, but I know well enough.” He looked up, gesturing at the sky. “Do you see that cluster, right there? That group of stars?”

    “Yeah.”

    Victor began to trace a path with his finger and Mara followed the outline he made. “This constellation is called Andromeda.”

    “Like the figure in Greek mythology?”

    “Exactly.”

    Mara smiled, leaning against his arm. “I remember the story from when I first joined the coven. I always thought Andromeda was a pretty name. A pretty constellation too.” She sighed softly. “Thanks for showing me. I never knew that's what it was.”

    Victor smiled too. “My pleasure.”

© 2018 F.R. Southerland, @normallyxstrange​ / @frsoutherlandauthor​

[normallyxstrange]

“This ends now” drabble (original fiction) feat. Victor & Mason #fictober18

#Fictober18 prompt

Day 6:  “I heard enough, this ends now.”

featuring Victor & Mason

    One late night blended into a dreary day. It wasn't until night passed again that Mason stirred from his spot. The chair creaked as he moved. The minimal amount of movement for hours of end left him stiff. The tension in his muscles eased the more mobile he became.

    Food, first. His stomach protested. Then sleep. He could sleep for hours, days. A month. As a demon—half-demon--it was entirely possible. He'd done it before.

    His task still wasn't complete, and it wouldn't be for a while, so an extended hibernation would have to wait.

    He navigated through the semi-dark of his spacious apartment to the kitchen. It wasn't as commodious as some of his other residences, but it had a coziness to it that he enjoyed. He found the tea kettle and began to fill it.

    There was a noticeable chill in the air and a charge in the air. The cold air wasn't simply a draft, not with that hum of magic behind it. Fully aware that he was no longer alone, Mason continued to prepare his tea.

    It was only as he turned to the fridge that he heard it. It was almost imperceptible—he may not have heard it at all, had he not had such honed senses. It was a low hum, more a feel than an actual sound. He ignored it and grabbed the carton of eggs.

    The hum grew in volume, now most certainly meant to be heard. It buzzed, filled the room, filled his head. Before long, it was incessant, annoying. He could no longer ignore it.

    He cracked eggs into a bowl and spoke, voice commanding. “I heard enough. This ends now.” Mason lifted his eyes and waited two beats. “Show yourself. I know you're there.”

    A spirit's energy was not so different from a magical signature and sensing those came naturally to the half-demon. Hiding from him was absolutely useless. If there was one person the ghost should fear, it was Mason. His necromancy skills alone should've terrified him, but Victor knew Mason would not dismiss him so quickly.

    It took longer than he would've liked to manifest completely, but he did, appearing only semi-transparent. A thin smile pulled at his lips. “How long did you know?” A dumb question, he knew, but it broke the ice nicely—or so he thought when Mason mimicked his smile.

    “I always know.” Mason tapped the whisk against the side of the bowl, unnaturally blue eyes finally regarding his old friend. “You have gotten stronger.” It was a statement, not a question—and far from complimentary.

    “I have.” Victor was proud of the fact. In time, he'd be able to manifest easier, and with more stamina to remain. And in time, he might even come back permanently—but small steps. Mason, he knew, would not approve in the slightest. Victor wouldn't let it dissuade him.

    Mason made no comment and poured the eggs into the pan. As he grabbed a spatula, he paused and side-eyed the spirit. He had to wonder just what had brought him here, because there was very little Victor did without some sort of purpose behind it. His hesitation was only momentarily, but enough for the ghost to notice.

    “You want to know why I'm here.”

    “I assumed you would tell me in due time, but yes. What is your motive this time?”

    Victor's smile grew, slowly.

    Mason had seen that smile before and knew there was no good behind it. This was no ending—not in the slightest. And he wasn't sure he had to patience for it.

    He sighed heavily and stirred his eggs. “Of course.”

© 2018 F.R. Southerland, @normallyxstrange​ / @frsoutherlandauthor​