Around 2013-2014 itty bitty Luca Haas gets really into hollanov. He also has internet friends, maybe even real life friends who are into different things. One of them may even get into the occult. So, walk with me here.
Witchy friend: I really want to practice casting spells, but no idea what to cast!
Baby Luca: looking up from his fanart, hey maybe you could put a love spell on these two? And that I get to see them get together?
Witchy friend: ooh! Cute! But I'm not like entirely sure it'll work
Baby Luca: That's fine 👍, its practice anyway right?
The friend casts the spell, nothing happens and they have a jolly laugh about it. But a little doubt stays in Luca's mind.
It stays, as, as time goes on his friend gets more and more witchy
It stays through her becoming a professional Etsy witch, one of the most sought after ones in fact.
It increases while he gets drafted.
It's playing like a siren on loop as Ilya Rozanov moves to Ottawa from Boston.
It's outright fear as he sees the fanmail leaks.
Safe to say, he and his friend have a very panicked, very lengthy talk before going to face Ilya the next day
Who Needs A Love Potion When You're Already A Fool?
Witch Hunter!Ellie Williams x Witch!OC ☾༻⋆ Horror/Romance, Slow Burn EST. 15 chapters, ~200k words
Common CW: Horror and Mature Subtext, blood, violence, occasional gore & animal violence, historical sexism (nothing you haven't seen in tlou already)
vague specifics will be given per chapter
MASTERLIST ☾༻⋆. °⛧
Synopsis:
Salem, Massachusetts, Autumn of 1692. A time infamous for three things: the freezing foggy air, the season of witches, and the town trials that sentenced them to death. When Ellie joins in on the witch hunts, she finds herself daunted when actually face-to-face with witchcraft and the ungodly arts. After begrudgingly becoming involved with an infamous witch, temptations urge Ellie to not only learn about her enemy, but herself. But fear of unknown that lingers in blinding fog can be just as dangerous as indulgence. After all, lying can be just as easy as breathing, but so is falling in love.
EIGHTH CHAPTER OUT NOW!
Chapter 1/Prologue
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Ao3 link (for proper paragraph formatting)
⛧ Finally getting around to posting my gay love letter to witchcraft publicly, hope you enjoy, stay spooky! ཐི🫀ཋྀ
⛧ First public fanfic kinda nervy 👉👈
⛧ Format kinda garbo, I’m new to actually posting, so it may look a lil funky on tumblr. If you want ideal formatting, I strongly recommend reading on Ao3
⛧ Hopefully actually posting my work will give me motivation to finish lol
⋆༺𖤍༻⋆ 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 .ᐟ death, blood, vampires in this are a mix of tvd, supernatural, and the mortal instruments lol
⋆༺𖤍༻⋆𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊 .ᐟ smut, angst, witch x vampire, idk if im missing anything but will update if i am!!
⋆༺𖤍༻⋆ 𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘 .ᐟ
── it wasn't until after her twenty third birthday did summer thorne know she came from a long line of witches that protected humans from the insatiable appetites of vampires that lurked in plain sight. after her grandma disappeared and left her with more questions than answers, she had to fulfill her duty as a protector, though, it was hard to do that with the very thing she fought against being her greatest desire.
» [ hot blooded, new constellations ] «
0:00 ─〇───── 0:00⇄
◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
Summer ran her finger along the dusty bookshelf that she never cleaned. It wasn't that she wasn't clean, quite the opposite, actually. She strived on cleanliness but the bookshelf was her cheat place.
Every book that sat on those fixtures had been in her family for generations. She slid the pad of her pointer along the titles, looking for a specific one. 'Potion Making 101', she shook her head. 'Harnessing the act of divination', still no. 'What to do when you've turned someone into a toad', absolutely not.
She finally found the book she was looking for with a smile, pulling it out of the close confines it was in. She blew the dust off and with a satisfied hum, she started towards the table in the middle of the room. 'Shelly's Book of Spells', she plopped the heavy book down on the table with a thud and opened it up to the first page.
There was an old note in familiar writing. She rolled her eyes after reading, 'Summer, get your paws off this book.' She threw it to the side and flipped through the pages until she got to the one she needed. In big, bold letters at the top of the worn page wrote 'Locator Spells'.
She ran her finger down the different spells before finding the one she needed. She rummaged through the table's drawers until she found a map. She spread it across the table top and poured over the words, reciting them in her head until she was sure she got the pronunciation right. She held the palm of her hand over the map, closing her eyes and letting the magic in her veins take the reins.
Her lips moved of their own accord. "Phasmatos Tribum. Nas Ex Veras. Sequitas Sanguinem," she spoke, scrunching her face to keep her concentration on the person she was searching for. She felt a zap through her body, letting her know that something took, meaning she could go on with the spell. "Shelly Thorne."
She believed that this was working. She was finally going to find her. Summer smiled to herself but her smile fell quickly when she smelled something burning. Her eyes flew open and she let out a shriek when the paper was burning to a crisp. The book said it would slowly burn into the area where the person you were trying to locate would be but her map? It was blackened.
She tried to put it out but it was too late, all that was left of the map was ashes. "Damn it!" She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, looking back at the spell book for any guidance on what to do but all that read beneath the spell was, 'Summer, put down the book.'
Summer grunted, slamming the book closed. She snapped her fingers and had the book returned to its original spot in a flash. Plopping down on the beanbag in the room, she hugged a pillow to her chest, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the tassels coming from the bottom.
"Summer, pay attention. You're going to need to know this when I teach you more advanced spells," Shelly's voice echoed in the room, her face warm yet still annoyed.
"Nana, this is too hard. Why do I have to know how to turn a feather pink, anyway?" eight-year-old Summer sat back against the chair with a huff, crossing her arms against her chest petulantly.
Shelly popped a hip, letting out a sigh at the frustrated look on her granddaughter's face. "Do you remember when someone came to the house last week?"
Summer, still angry with herself, nodded once. "Yeah, what does that have to do with anything, Nana?"
Shelly bent down to Summer's height in her chair. "Do you remember how I disappeared?" Summer turned in her chair to face her grandmother, nodding her head once again. "Turning a feather pink might be a little tedious right now, my dear, but it's setting you up to be able to turn it blue, green, yellow, or any color you can imagine and then, when you're ready, you can make it disappear." Shelly snapped her fingers and the feather was gone.
Summer's eyes widened as she sat up, suddenly intrigued in her lesson again. "Whoa. But, how—" When she looked up, Shelly had disappeared, too. She looked around for her grandmother but she couldn't see her. "Nana?"
There was another snap and Shelly had appeared on the other side of Summer a split second later. Summer laughed. "I wanna do that!" she pointed at her grandmother. Shelly's lips curved into a kind smile.
"And you will. But you have to turn this feather pink first. Cloaking takes practice, I started just as you are when I was your age. I know it's hard now but you will get better and then it'll become like a second nature to you, my dear." She pinched her chin lovingly.
Summer's brow pulled, her brain working with questions that an eight-year-old shouldn't be having. "Nana, will you disappear again?"
Shelly's face softened, she tucked two strands of hair behind Summer's ears and tapped her nose. "Not from you, my little shadow."
Summer blinked out of her daze. Her cheeks damp as she hugged the pillow a little closer. Her eyes found the picture she'd been staring at since her twenty-third birthday two weeks ago. Summer with a big smile on her face with her grandmother behind her, arms around her neck, mirroring Summer's smile. Summer swallowed harshly. "You lied," she spoke to the picture like Shelly could hear her.
Summer climbed the attic ladder with a box attached to her side. Cora and Kiara, her two best friends, behind her to make sure she didn't fall and meet an early demise.
"Summer, you're freaking me out. Would you accept help for literally once in your life?" Kiara hover handed the small of Summer's back.
"When you fall and crack your head open, I'm going to laugh at you," Cora spoke nonchalantly but the concern in her eyes was real.
Summer laughed, shaking her head as she pushed the box up and into the attic with the hand holding it against her side. "You guys are so dramatic. I'm not going to die." But as she said that, she almost lost her footing and her stomach dropped to her toes. She managed to right herself with a nervous smile while Kiara and Cora looked at her with the same exact expression.
Summer carefully descended the ladder and hopped down once she was close enough to the ground, wiping her hands off on her jeans. "See? I'm fine."
"Yeah, you totally didn't just almost fall and kill all three of us." Kiara gave her a sweet smile, crossing her arms against her chest and cocking her head to the side.
Summer rolled her eyes and playfully pushed one of her best friend's shoulder. "I wouldn't have killed all three of us. Maybe severely injured but not killed." Summer pushed past the two of them to walk into The Wreck where Cora and Kiara's parents worked. "Besides, it'd make us closer. Trauma bonding."
Cora snorted as Kiara smiled reluctantly. Pope, another one of their close friends came over with a book in his hands. "Hey, Sum," he spoke in passing and Summer realized that he was studying some school book. Kiara, Cora, and Summer decided they didn't want to go to college but Pope got a full ride scholarship to Oregon State University and he was determined not to lose it.
Summer didn't blame him. He didn't exactly come from a wealthy family. None of them did other than Summer but even then, most of their money came from Summer's trust fund that Shelly had made for her and her mother's three jobs. "Have you taken a breath yet, Pope? You do realize you're on summer break, right?" Summer teased.
"Mm, yeah. I'd love another coffee, thanks, Sum." He slid into a bar stool, not acknowledging Summer's question at all. Which didn't surprise her in the least. She just laughed it off and moved behind the counter to make him another coffee.
Ana and Mike, Kiara and Cora's parents, didn't try to stop her. They were pretty busy that day seeing as everyone was back home from school that hung out at The Wreck on the regular. "Where's JB?" Summer asked, sipping on her own mixed drink she had made herself.
Kiara rolled her eyes. "Hanging out with Sarah Cameron, again. I mean, whatever happened to hanging out with real friends? It's like he's become a ghost." Summer frowned. Kiara had a very...explicit falling out with Sarah when they were sixteen. Sarah threw a party, didn't invite Kiara who was best friends with her at the time, and Kiara called the cops on her.
Summer shuddered at the memory of them cursing at each other until Kiara had to be held back by Summer and John B. "Well, he'll figure it out soon enough." Summer poured the coffee into a mug, using the creamer she knew Pope liked from being friends with him for almost twenty years. She even made him a little heart with the foam on top.
She worked as a barista for a few years before she quit when her grandma went missing. She was in a hard place for a week and she could barely get herself out of bed. Thankfully, Kiara and Cora dragged her out of her cave the week after and now, she was here. She slid Pope the mug as the bell over the door rang and in came Topper Thornton and Kelce Williams.
They both were a little overdressed for summer but Summer couldn't judge because she was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Topper pulled off his sunglasses, smiling at Summer as he slid in front of her. "I'll have a Summer's Specialty," Topper pointed to the alcohol behind her.
Summer gave him an odd look, laughing lightly. "A Summer's Specialty is literally just Tito's in a glass."
Kelce made a face. "Ooh, that sounds good. I'll do the same."
Cora laughed, leaning against the bar. "It's three in the afternoon," she teased her friends, Kiara now helping Pope study because Topper was still friends with Sarah and Kiara was known for holding grudges.
Topper shrugged. "It's five o'clock somewhere." Summer slid them both a glass and poured the Tito's in. "Cheers, man." Topper knocked his back while Kelce sipped on it. Topper shuddered and placed the glass back down on the bar. "Pope, are you seriously studying during summer break?"
Pope didn't look up from his book. "Yeah, mini golf does sound fun, I'll see you there later, Top." He held up a thumbs up. Topper gave Summer a confused look while Summer just shook her head in a way of saying 'don't ask'.
She mostly helped out around The Wreck for the rest of the day with her friends until closing. Ana and Mike ushered her out but not before slipping her some tip money from the day because they believed she deserved it for helping them out during a busy day.
Summer hugged them both, waving bye to Cora and Kiara, before starting her walk home. She only lived about a block away from The Wreck so it was easier than burning unnecessary gas. She placed one of her headphones in as she took her usual route through the trees behind The Wreck.
The sky was a mix of dark blues and blacks, just the light of the moon and stars keeping her from freaking out. She was always afraid of the dark, it was one thing that freaked her out. She could deal with anything else, just not the dark.
She hummed along to her song when she heard something next to her. She turned her head, expecting to see Cora or Kiara there but there was no one. Just her and the trees. She blinked, assuring herself that she must've been seeing things.
She shook her head and continued her walk. A few more steps and she could've sworn she heard another sound. It was more like a voice but she couldn't make out what it was saying. She looked around once more. "Kiara? Cora? If this is some kind of prank, it's not funny!" Summer shouted into the wood, crossing her arms over her chest but her heart was pounding.
And then she heard it again. On the other side of her that time and she saw something dart past her. Summer swallowed harshly, gripping onto her phone so hard she could've cracked the screen. She wanted to run but for some reason, her feet were stuck to the ground.
"Witch," someone spoke next to her ear. She spun, an incantation on the tip of her tongue but there was no one there.
"Show yourself!" Summer shouted, exuding the confidence she didn't have. Her pulse was racing and her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. Suddenly, she felt a heavy weight pushing her down onto the grass below her, her shoulder meeting the ground with a pop and she had to bite down on her tongue to not scream in the pain radiating through it.
Above her was a bigger man, holding her down by her wrists. She struggled against him, fighting through the pain in her shoulder. The man leaned down to sniff her neck and Summer moved to kick him between the legs but she stopped when his mouth opened to speak. Her heart almost completely stopped when she saw his two front canines sharpened to deadly points. His eyes darkened to a black while deep veins popped out on his face.
"Mm, I've never had witches blood before...should be delicious," he spoke lowly in her ear, his voice a deep rasp that sent fear trickling down her spine.
Her body and mouth moved on their own accord. She kicked straight up, hitting exactly where she wanted. The man groaned in pain and she didn't give him a second to recover before she was saying an incantation."Phasmatos Morsinus Pyrox Allum."
The man was thrown off of her, howling in pain and she took the opportunity to book it faster than she ever had back to her house. She didn't look back as she made it to the front door and mumbled an unlocking spell, she didn't have the time to reach for her keys. The door swung open and she slammed it behind her.
Breathing heavily, she leaned back against the wood. "Summer? Is that you?" Summer's mother, Maren, walked over to the door. "Oh, God. What happened to you?"
Summer just slumped down onto the floor, her head falling forward as she tried to wrap her head around what she had just seen while Maren poured over her daughter.
Nine of Swords, Upright: sleepless nights, worry and anxiety.
Vampire Hunter!Jake x Witch!OC
Authors Note: Hey y’all!! I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter in Jake’s story! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! If you need to catch up on the Prologue, do so here.
*Set prior to the events of I See Hell in Your Eyes. This is the beginning of Jake’s story. This can be read independently from ISHIYE but there will be cross references as it’s in the same universe.
Word Count: 3.5K
Warnings: Not very many just some swearing.
Description: When a young affluent hunter finds himself taking an unexpected detour in Tucson, Arizona, he finds himself drawn to a local dive bar with a rather ecclectic clientele, situated on an equally intriguing location adjacent to a cemetery. Cemeteries are neutral ground, so even if he found a Vampire to snuff out, he couldn’t. Especially with the owner of the bar being a Witch and watching him like a hawk.
Jake’s dreams were always distinctly under two categories: either he’d find his dream self walking down an empty city street, head on a swivel for any Vampiric activity, trailing one he had found earlier that kept evading him. Or, he’d wake up in his childhood bedroom, realize that he was seven years old again, hearing footsteps in the hallway growing closer.
His mind would not let go of the night that Vampire broke in and found the twins’ room first on the upper floor. The Vampire’s appearance had morphed over the years, steadily gaining more grotesque. But the feeling of its mangled and dirty fingers tangling in his hair and violently pulling upwards, sending white hot pain into the boys’ scalp as his feet lifted off the ground, was always the same.
This night was no exception, and unfortunately for the young hunter it was the latter scenario.
A distant creak of the hardwood floors down the hallway always startles him awake. His large and curious brown eyes would always pop open at the sound, and he’d strain his ears to try to figure out who was walking towards his shared room with Josh. It couldn’t have been his little brother Sam; he was too light to make the floorboards move like that. Josh was snoring above him, oblivious to everything, so that ruled out him. Maybe his parents? But he could hear the heavy thuds of shoes as the sound got closer, and why would his parents have their shoes on in the middle of the night? The realization that it was someone else in the house besides his family made his blood run cold and had him pulling his covers up to his chin as he tried to make himself as small as possible on the bottom bunk.
A few agonizing minutes later, the footsteps were right outside his door, and his younger self was stiff as a board, bracing himself for whomever would enter. Sure enough, the doorknob would slowly twist and a stream of light from the hallway would stream in as the door opened. All he saw before he screwed his eyes shut was a large, intimidating silhouette peering into his room. Jake tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to give it away that he was awake. The intruder made his way into their room, kicking a few toys out of the way in the process. He could feel their presence near his bed, and it took everything in him to not flinch at the putrid breath that was being exhaled into his face.
But Jake was a frightened child, and his instinct was to get to his brother as quickly as possible. When the creature whispered, “jackpot…” his eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to yell for his twin, all while trying to scramble down his bed and make it to the ladder leading up to Josh’s bunk. His tiny hand had just reached one of the bottom bars when the all too familiar sensation of fingers in his hair and being yanked backwards and upwards rattled his system. Distantly he would hear his brother startle awake and barely touching the ladder as he flew down to come to his rescue.
The creature paid Josh no mind while he lifted up the younger boy to his eye level, his mouth twisting into a sadistic smile and revealing the long jagged fangs that extended from his gums.
A Vampire had somehow broken into their extensively guarded house.
Jake kicked and squirmed midair, trying to get the Vampire to drop him, but it was no use. The creature stared into his eyes, hunger clearly on his mind. The young boy couldn’t take it anymore and as he clawed at the Vampire’s wrist he took a deep breath and released a shrill, high pitched shriek that rattled the-
The now adult Jake shot up in bed, silver knife white knuckled in his fist. Through his own personal training, he had taught himself how to sleep with his hand curled around a knife under his pillow, and not letting go of it until he was awake.
His skin was damp and clammy, feeling especially chilled from the ceiling fan spinning above. In spite of this sweat gathered on his hairline, threatening to spill down his face. His eyes darted around the room for any threats, as if he was ready to face off with the Vampire from his memory. But the hunter was alone in the tiny motel room, and when he deduced this he rolled out of bed, still holding the knife. He padded over to the sink in the miniscule kitchenette and poured a glass of water from the sink. He gulped it down but it took two more glasses to finally get some relief in his dry throat.
After setting the glass down and abandoning it next to the sink he went around the room to check his security measures. His crossbow lay still on the other side of the bed, with a wooden arrow locked and loaded, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. With Josh off doing whatever it was he was doing, the weapon was the closest thing he had to a partner in crime.
The solitary window was covered by curtains, and Jake carefully pulled back one of the panels to look out onto the parking lot. The sun was freshly risen, giving him solace in the fact that his ultimate threats were locked inside and away from the light. Sunrises had always been Jake’s favorite for this reason. His shoulders relaxed as he opened the curtains as far as he could, letting in as much natural light as possible. Now that he was awake and definitely not going back to sleep any time soon, he turned his attention to getting a shower and washing off nightmares as best he could.
~!~
It had been over four days now, and Jake still could not get his night at The Tipsy Tumbleweed out of his head. He went to other bars around town to kill time, but all of them were so basic to him. They were too loud, or the drinks sucked, or the TV’s weren’t on anything interesting, or the bartenders would try way too hard to flirt with him for better tips. He wanted to go back, he wanted to see her, he wanted to at least get her name.
But Jake was full of an unfamiliar feeling of intimidation he wasn’t used to. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked into a situation where he wasn’t the top dog, even when surrounded by Damned corpses who were decades older than him. His exposure to other supernatural creatures was limited. Growing up the focus was so heavily on Vampire’s that he rarely took the time to learn much about others. He usually just relied on Sam to info dump about whatever creature he was obsessed with that month and he’d tuck any useful information into the back of his mind and kept on moving.
Sam’s best friend happened to be a Werewolf, which was a secret that all three Kiszka boys kept to themselves out of respect for Danny, who always seemed like a good kid regardless of his DNA. The twins were just glad that their little brother had finally made a true friend, which was something they always worried about given Sam’s nerdy and introverted nature. The change in Sam after that first summer with Danny was like night and day, and his confidence and ego hadn’t stopped growing since. It was a gift and a curse, Josh would say in exasperation.
Witches however? Jake hadn’t truly met one in person before. He knew of them, and had gotten a few lectures on how to watch out for them. His mother in particular emphasized that they were simply untrustworthy and never expounded beyond that. Once again his brother would fill in the blanks sometimes. He mentioned a few who had gone to his university but he wasn’t particularly close to them. That hadn’t stopped Josh from making cracks about Sam going to Hogwarts whenever he got the chance, or asking if he had any classes with Hermione. This usually resulted in the nearest object thrown in the oldest sibling's direction.
The most Jake knew about them was that they were definitely not human, and most had innate abilities that were passed down via genetics. Covens were a thing but not a requirement, and most were very secretive as to what they got up to. One thing Jake would never openly admit is when he was out of his depth on something, but he couldn’t just accept defeat like this and twiddle his thumbs until he could get out of town.
Which was why he was sitting in the parking lot of The Tipsy Tumbleweed, staring at the entrance from the drivers side of his shitty rental. He mulled over the vague threat she had given him days prior. She didn’t say he couldn’t come back…just that he couldn’t come back and pull any shit. He could do that. He could just walk in, sit down and be good. He could potentially apologize.
The hunter repeated these affirmations to himself as he walked inside, immediately greeted by the familiar music, the glow of the various neon signs, and the scowl of the owner of the bar he was standing in.
She was behind the bar, writing something in a notebook of hers on the bar top when those big hazel eyes looked up and locked onto him. It took a conscious effort on Jake’s part to not trip over his own feet under her gaze.
He settled on the bar stool directly in front of her without a word, and the two stared at each other wondering who would flinch first. Her hazel irises were all he could focus on, and he took the opportunity to map out the different ways the green blended into light brown.
“Are you going to behave tonight?”
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?”
Her right eyebrow slowly raised, “not in my bar there isn’t.”
The hunter nodded at the Witch, falling back into silence.
She reached to her left and brought a low ball glass in front of her on the bar and her other hand grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured about two fingers worth into the glass. It was the same order from that first night, this time untampered with.
“We’re going to try this again, but if you even look at Lou for too long I’ll physically toss you out myself.”
The hunter's eyes swiveled slightly to the right, his peripheral catching sight of the Vampire who was focused on the TV. Jake quickly snapped his eyes back to the bar owner’s,
“Got it,” he replied in an obedient tone that he rarely spoke in.
She nodded and replied, “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some regulars to greet.”
The Witch turned on her heel and walked out from around the bar, passing behind Jake and making her way to one of the two-top tables towards the front of the bar. As she passed, a sweet yet earthy scent wafted around him. Was that her perfume? He pondered. Or was that just her?
He racked his brain as he tore his eyes away from the swing of her hips and turned back to his glass. Whiskey was always his go-to at bars, because no one could truly fuck it up, but in truth, he was a Pinot Noir guy. It started when he was a teenager and the only alcohol he could get his hands on was the wine in the basement. His parents collected bottles from their travels and had so many at this point that they never actually drank that Jake sneaking a bottle or two every so often went unnoticed. He quickly figured out what he liked so by the time he was actually of age it became his private staple.
Jake continued to fire off questions in his head as he outwardly minded his own business.
He was brought back to reality when a familiar young voice answered, “her name is Cecilia, by the way.”
Jake looked up and saw the young bartender named Stacey standing in front of him.
“How did you-”
Her eyes went wide once again, just like that first night, “oh shit I’m so sorry! Sometimes it's hard to differentiate people’s inner voices from their outer voices and it sounds like someone asked me something out loud and-”
Jake raised his hands slightly off the bar, palms facing outwards to show he wasn’t mad, “hey, you didn’t do anything wrong it’s ok.”
Her face relaxed slightly, but she was still clearly embarrassed, “Cecilia’s been helping me get better at it but I still fuck up some times.”
Jake looked at her with warm eyes, “I’m assuming that you heard me thinking about him,” he cocked his head in Lou’s direction, “and went off and told her the other night?”
She looked down at the bar top and fiddled with her fingers, “yeah…we’ve just never had any trouble in here before and Lou is just really special to us and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.”
Stacey kept her voice low, as to not let Lou hear her saying that he was special to her. However, it didn’t work and the Vampire kept facing the TV and he suppressed a small smile while his face turned pink.
“Well you don’t have to worry about me, I'm not going to mess with him.”
“I guess that truth serum worked,” she looked up, trying not to smile.
Now it was Jake’s turn to look embarrassed, “yeah…yeah it did.”
“Well she’s still letting you sit here so she can’t be too mad still.”
“I’m on thin ice but I promise I’m just here cause I like the place, that's all.”
Stacey looked down and saw that Jake’s glass was empty, “do you want another drink?”
Jake looked down at the glass, but decided to do something different tonight, “do you have a good Pinot here?”
She looked at him blankly, “wine?”
“Yes…”
“Umm…I think we have a few bottles in the back.” She turned and disappeared behind the Employee door.
Jake sat there softly tapping his thumbs on the edge of the bar, inwardly hating that he was making a fuss over something as arbitrary as a drink. It was another reason why he always fell back on his “usual.” He hated being “that guy” in situations.
After a few minutes the young bartender busted through the Employee door and nearly jogged over to Jake’s spot at the bar. It was clear she wasn’t used to using a corkscrew, but after cussing a little under her breath the cork popped from the bottle. She threw Jake a triumphant smile as she poured him a glass.
“Thank you, Stacey,” he said warmly.
“Any time,” she replied before leaving the bar area to ask if anyone else needed refills or new drinks around the bar.
He studied the glass closely, grasping it by the stem and tilting it to the side and then back again to see what kind of legs it had before bringing it to his nose to see what flavors he could pick up. The alcohol itself was pretty strong, but he had had worse. It was medium bodied, with tannins that weren’t too overpowering due to the bright acidity from the-
“Are you detecting the grapes?”
A silky voice startled him and his eyes left the glass to look in front of him. It was Cecilia. His face reddened slightly, again, but her face broke into a smile as she wrote some figures down in the notebook she had placed on the bar.
“Oh umm-”
“Relax, I’m just fucking with you,” her smile stayed fixed on her face and Jake felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized how tense they had been. “You’re the first customer to order any of the wine we have, by the way.”
“I imagine people aren’t really thirsty for wine right off the highway,” the hunter said as he took his first sip. Oh, that’s not too bad, he thought, surprised at the texture and flavor of the wine.
The Witch nodded, “yeah people are more interested in their usual beers or liquor. You know the whole, ‘candy is dandy but liquor is quicker’ mentality.”
The corners of Jake’s mouth almost turned into a smile, “my brother likes to say that a lot.”
Cecilia’s eyebrows raised in curiosity, “you have a brother?”
Jake nodded, “three, actually. Two are biologically siblings and the other one we all kind of adopted over the years. He’s a good kid.”
She smiled, “oh that’s nice. Are they all hunters too?”
“Only one of them is; Josh.”
“Is he older or-?”
Jake grimaced slightly, “well…older…by five minutes. The other two are younger than me.”
Her lips formed an O, “so you’re a middle child? I can see that with you.”
Had it been anyone else, Jake would’ve gotten offended by that, but he let it slide for Cecilia.
“Only technically.”
“I can’t relate, I just have a little sister, Astrid. Or Ass-strid as I called her growing up.”
At this point they were both smiling softly at each other.
“What’s she like?” Jake asked before taking another sip of wine.
The Witch started to roll her eyes but stopped, “oh she’s the picture perfect Witch my mother always wanted, except that neither one of us inherited Moms psychic abilities. Astrid can enter people’s dreams, which was so fun growing up.” This time Cecilia let herself complete the eyeroll.
Jake’s eyes softened as he looked at her, the question clear in his expression.
“As for me, I do this…,” her eyes swiveled down towards Lou, who was once again minding his own business. His usual glass sat idly as he paid attention to the commercial on the TV, and immediately slid down the bar towards the Witch like a hockey puck, directly into her curled hand.
Lou was unimpressed and let out a short, “hey,” towards her and she sent the glass back, not spilling a drop.
Jake had never seen a telekinetic in person before, and sat there dumbfounded.
“Wow…” was all he could say.
She shrugged, “I can also read Tarot pretty well.”
Something inside the hunter was very interested in it all. Witches were something that weren’t brought up a lot, and when they were it was never in a positive light. He was mainly taught to focus on the Undead more than any other creature.
“...and your mom?”
Cecilia leaned in towards the hunter, closer than she had been before and whispered, “my mom talks to dead people.”
Jake blinked at her.
“She heads a Necromancy coven in Northern California where I grew up,” the Witch leaned back towards her side of the bar, “it's not as exciting as you think.”
He wanted to ask more questions, but the way Cecilia’s expression soured at the mention of her mother gave him enough of a hint to drop that part of the subject.
“How did you end up in Arizona?”
This time, her eyes softened wistfully, “my dad was from here.”
The word ‘was’ stuck out to him.
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded, “yeah.”
The two stared at each other, allowing the silence to wash over them. Jake swallowed the last of his wine, and before he could open his mouth another question was thrown his way.
“I just realized I am a terrible bar owner and have been talking to you this whole time without getting your actual name?”
Jake smirked, his eyes staring into hers, and slowly extended his hand over the bar, “Jake Kiszka, hunter of the Undead and at your service.”
The Witch held out her hand and wrapped it around his to shake. The warmth of his skin rippled up her own arm, over her shoulder and down her back, settling at the base of her spine
“I hope you don’t tell your baristas that,” she retorted with a crinkle in her nose, “Cecilia Addington, bar owner with First Born Daughter problems.”
Jake never wanted to let go of her hand. The firm grip of her fingers and the softness of her skin had his head spinning.
He wanted to know if all of her skin was just as soft.
Reluctantly, they both dropped their hands at the same time each taking a second to flex their hands under the bar out of each other's sight.
Jake was the one to speak first, “so how does-“
“No more questions until you buy another drink, Jake.”
The butterflies from sixth grade swarmed in his gut at the sound of her saying his name.
She turned her head and gave Stacey a Look and a nod towards the hunter, before giving Jake one last smile before slinking around the bar to greet a few patrons that had just walked through the door. Jake watched her the whole time, listening to the volume of her voice and appreciating the fact that she was a hugger just like he was. Fuck.
Warnings: Blood, death, attempted abuse (briefly mentioned). Besides, English isn't my first language, so grammatical mistakes can happen.
He was dead long before his skull hit the ground with a hollow thud that made almost no sound. Blood quickly spread from the wound in his neck until it formed a crimson pool that was absorbed by the surrounding snow.
Morwenna remained silent, her head bowed toward the body of the man she had just taken the life of as if it were nothing more than a minor inconvenience in her routine, a slight disdain appearing on her beautiful features as she wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, even though she knew she would have to find a place to clean herself up, considering that the blood had dripped down her chin and splattered on her clothes.
She hated winter, mainly because the water was so cold that it felt like her bones would freeze beneath her skin, and the fire in the fireplace in her cabin could only warm her to a certain extent without attracting unwanted attention from humans who were too curious for their own good.
The dead man on the floor was not one of those curious people, he just had the misfortune and stupidity to try to chase a woman through the forest on the very day Morwenna had just returned from her trip. The woman had long since fled, clutching the ruined sleeve of her dress and stumbling over her own feet without looking back, surely watched from above by Sethyra, as her wyvern always had a soft spot for creatures with keen survival instincts and the willpower to stay alive in dangerous situations.
The sun seemed a little warmer that day, and Morwenna looked up despite her covered eyes, only to realize that it was almost time for her visit to Nesta and Elain, something that had become less frequent after the younger Archeron had been taken to the other side of the wall about a year ago.
She thinks this description defines women and females very well, and that must be why Sethyra liked the female gender much more than tolerated any man or male.
She knew that the two Archerons no longer needed her protection now that they had returned to their former living conditions, having left the dilapidated cabin where they lived and moved to a larger and safer property. But Morwenna had still shown up once since the two had moved, two days after their father had left to travel to who knows where, just wanting to check out the surroundings and make sure everything was okay there, and both Nesta and Elain invited her in and then asked her to come back again for the middle Archeron's birthday, even if it was just to say “hi.”
She agreed, and a week ago she had traveled in search of a gift for Elain, something simple but that Morwenna knew she would like.
She turned her back on the body, deciding to leave it there for the wolves to devour as they saw fit. It wouldn't hurt anyone else anyway.
The smell of smoke was the first thing she noticed as she got closer and closer to the Archeron property.
She skidded to a halt in front of what had once been a beautiful property of polished marble with an emerald roof, but which had now been reduced to black rubble reeking of ashes and despair. She could smell the fear and dread emanating from the smoke, cataloging without needing to see the corpses of the Archeron's employees, now reduced to lifeless bodies disfigured by fire.
At first, Morwenna told herself that must have been carried there by the wind, perhaps someone had decided to burn wood near the village to warm those who did not have the privilege of a roof over their heads. But the closer she got, the more that thought fell apart, and her steps began to quicken until she was practically running, her hood falling back and the dark cloak covering her body rising as Morwenna gained speed, knowing without looking that Sethyra was keeping pace above her.
Her breath came out shaky, a feeling of fear and anger forming in her stomach as she forced herself to walk through the rubble in search of Nesta and Elain, something she hadn't felt since she was still working for the male who ordered her to dirty her hands so that his could remain clean.
She counted each of the bodies, counted each of the twelve employees who were there, and promised them a dignified burial, even if she had to dig their graves with her own hands.
But that was all there was, twelve corpses of people she didn't know beyond the descriptions given by Nesta and Elain, but no sign of the two girls, and Morwenna didn't know whether she should feel relieved or even more terrified by this realization.
She searched further, looking around for any clue, even if it was just a strand of hair covered in blood or a hand sticking out from somewhere buried in the snow, but there was nothing, no trace that Nesta and Elain had suffered the same fate as the humans who worked for them, even though their scents were still there, albeit faint and mixed with fear, indignation, and something else that Morwenna couldn't identify. A new scent, from someone or something that had been there when it all happened.
Suddenly, she stopped. She stood as still as a statue when she identified something else nearby, something familiar that she felt in her bones and made the magic inside her boil.
Morwenna knew that smell, she would recognize it even if she were blind and deaf or confined to a lighthouse in the middle of the ocean after going mad, and she couldn't help but shudder when cold night mist and cedar overwhelmed her senses as if he were right there in front of her.
But he wasn't, only his scent had remained like a trap waiting to ambush her, and Morwenna could almost feel the cold, familiar sensation of his shadows curling around her wrists to say hello.
It was both a blessing and a curse, because now Morwenna knew where to start looking, but it was also a place she had sworn never to set foot in again, a place whose memories still haunted her even as she tried to forget the marks that had once encircled her neck centuries ago and had been reduced to white scars.
In the sky, Sethyra's roar was loud enough to shake the earth, and on the other side of the Wall, violet and hazel eyes simultaneously looked up as if sensing her inevitable arrival.
Help me title a Werewolf!RoyKent x Witch!OC fic based on a song!
She Calls Me Love (Banda AL9) -- Even the Moon Wishes it Was Me
The Whole of the Moon (The Waterboys) -- Whole of the Moon
Voting ended onApr 30
Both of these songs sound like Ted Lasso, and both have the moon as a theme (kind of), but I don't know which sounds more like a Roy-Kent-is-a-Werewolf fic
There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part eleven]
Summary: A shift in the wind and in her mind. He makes a vow.
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: violence, heavy swearing, brief description of sex. drugging/poisoning, threats, skinning (brief), anger, angst
Minors, do not interact.
a/n: sometimes you just have to go out to a goth bar with your friend and make out with a random guy for research/inspiration purposes, you know? he actually gave me a great idea, right as i was leaving, i made eye contact with him and he rushed up to me, said "come here, dame un beso," and pulled my face to his for a goodbye kiss. he did the whole cupping-my-face-with-one-hand and slid the other one around my waist thing too, and then gave my bottom a quick smack when i pulled away. writing material indeed
part ten
masterlist
"A tear in the membrane
Allows the voices.
They wanna push you off the path
With their low frequency wiring."
Thom Yorke, Hearing Damage
The late afternoon air was brisk to all around her yet she barely noticed, skin flushed and damp with sweat as it was.
“-it was a matter of misinterpretation!-”
“-but the leader of the last clan of lightsingers grew ever more arrogant and unforgiving-”
She rushed through the throng of people in the main avenue, uncaring as her shoulder knocked into those around her, not hearing their insults and name calling as she pushed her way through the blurring masses, letting out a breath of relief as she broke through the crowd and into a grim alleyway, closed off by a single heavy chain crossing from one establishment to the other.
“Elain Archeron gives the Shadowsinger a powdered remedy meant to treat his headaches from-”
Eowyn easily stepped over the heavy chain, but stumbled slightly at that particular whisper. It wasn’t often they said anything of interest about anyone she cared about. Not having the right headspace nor the time to linger on it, however, she regained her balance and continued on, evading the occasional obstruction in her way as she walked further down the alley towards the other side of the street.
Halfway down she huffed to herself at the shift in wind that was now so familiar to her, the whooshing sound of flapping wings echoing from above before his voice did.
“A little late to be out here, isn’t it?” Azriel’s voice called out cooly, keeping a step behind her. Whether by his doing or by their own accord, she felt his shadows crawl up her skirts and under her veil, weaving affectionately through her hair.
Any other time she would’ve laughed at their gentle tickling, pleased to see Azriel again after a week long mission. Now all her mind could focus on was getting to where she needed to go before she lost it again.
“I don’t recall inviting you,” she shot back immediately, but she knew she lacked her usual teasing tone. She shook her head quickly, as if trying to shake the shadows out from her hair but regretted the movement immediately, both because of the piercing pain that stabbed through her skull and because of the incomprehensible droop of the one specific shadow that liked to ride along her wrist or cupped in her hand whenever they were around.
She didn’t have time for this.
“Must’ve slipped your mind,” he parried, either ignoring her unamused tone or not noticing. Likely the former.
“If you’re going to follow me, fine, but don’t get in my way,” she practically barked, and found herself rather surprised that he didn’t so much as flinch at her tone, as anyone else would do. He simply remained silent and unruffled, following close behind. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her curiously and attempting to decipher what had her in such a rotten mood, and although she regretted being so hostile to him, wishing she could simply greet him and converse with him as she did whenever he came back from missions, she simply couldn’t. Not now.
She huffed and rounded the corner into the less busy street.
Quick to surmise her intentions as she looked up at the sign outside the apothecary door, Azriel’s shadows rushed before her, opening and holding the door open for her to push her way through. Barely murmuring a short “thanks,” she stomped through the shop.
“Don’t believe a single thing this bitch says,” she hissed at the young fae male who flinched in place, head whipping to look at her in terror as the herbalist merely patted his hand assuringly. “She’s a fucking charlatan,” she continued, finding herself being held back by Azriel who immediately rushed in after her to stop her from launching herself at the herbalist.
The fraud in question didn’t seem the slightest bit alarmed, much to her chagrin, as she only handed the young male his coins back, placing a hand over the tonic in front of them. “You give this a try, free of charge, sweetheart, and you’ll notice the difference immediately, Mother give you strength.”
The fae male– shooting a nervous look at the entirely veiled enraged female and the huge winged male holding her back– could do nothing but snatch the tonic and his coins and bolt out of the shop.
“You fucking cunt,” Eowyn seethed at the herbalist. She had begun to make monthly trips out into Velaris– a great achievement for someone who was something of a recluse for such a long time– and found her usual herbalist, Madame Loerma, growing increasingly suspicious of her use of sleeping draughts. She had thus begun to circle around other apothecaries, dabbling in a few only to get the products for twice Mme. Loerma’s price and half of its quality. Eowyn had thought that this particular herbalist wasn’t as bad as the others, however Aniika had royally and truly fucked her over. “What was in the fucking dwale?”
“You already know what was in the dwale or you wouldn’t be here, lovely.”
“Answer her question,” Azriel growled lowly, clearly wanting an explanation himself.
Eowyn ignored him.
“How do I get rid of it?” She shrugged Azriel’s arms away from her, stepping around the counter to face the herbalist who mirrored her movements, circling away while eyeing her and Azriel.
“You already know,” the grin the female sent her was unsettling, her eyes glinting brightly, almost reflective. If Eowyn didn’t know any better, she would say the herbalist was under the influence of some mind-bending nostrum, but alas she did know better. She had seen those glassy crazed eyes before.
“Oh quit it with the cryptic talk,” she snarled, “there must be another way to stop my head from fucking pounding.”
“Eowyn,” the way Azriel said her name, softly and only to her, yet firm and commanding of attention brought her face up to look at him, although he couldn’t see her under her veil. “Explain.”
She took a deep breath and held it before exhaling, trying to calm herself down. “She poisoned me,” no sooner had she spoken the words than he had the herbalist pinned to the wall, his shadows restricting her movements.
“And why,” he held Truthteller to her throat, “would you do such a thing?”
“She’s a witch!” The fae screeched, “I only put a little black hemlock in the dwale. It’s inoffensive to most High a-and lesser fae,” she said the last part quickly as he pressed the blade harder into her, “but it causes mild symptoms in witches.”
“What symptoms?” He pushed.
“Fever, headaches, body aches, visions,” she looked over his shoulder at Eowyn, but he deftly raised a wing, covering her from sight.
“And why would you do that?”
“I felt her,” her horrid breath shuddered in ecstasy that made his nose wrinkle in disgust, “I knew she was a witch when she came in for her sleeping draught last month and decided to add the hemlock to the batch she picked up last week— tell me, my Lady, have your eyes turned to their natural state? Can you feel her power coursing through your veins?”
“Fuck you,” she hissed, then placed an arm on Azriel’s shoulder, “let’s go Az, she won’t tell me anything.”
“I’ll make her tell you,” he gritted, the dagger beginning to cut deeper but not into the thin flesh and muscle, but rather slicing parallel in the slow beginning of a skinning.
“No! No!,” she yelled out in fear and pain, “you can either access your full power-“
“No.”
“-or you can just ride it out! There’s no other way, I swear it!”
“How long?”
“Two o-or three days, give or take— oh no, please!”
“Anything else?” Azriel looked over his shoulder and when she shook her head, if perhaps trembling and feeling drained as she crashed down from her explosive rage, he only turned back to the herbalist and hissed with icy cold rage. “Explain to me why you care if she’s a witch, and why I should let you live another miserable day.”
“Th-the Daughter… carries the wisdom of the Mother,” she stammered, but she looked at him confusedly as if she only shared common knowledge, “she will bring us salvation from the clutches of twisted thinking and shield us from—“
“Don’t listen to this bullshit, she’s just a cultist, she’s been brainwashed,” Eowyn insisted, pulling on his arm.
Az frowned at her but let the fae go.
Eowyn made her way outside, but the wind carried his voice out with her. “Tell the others I want that poison out of this city by dusk tomorrow. If I find just the slightest indication it’s still in Velaris, or that you told anyone what happened here, I’ll come back and finish the job,” he snarled lowly.
It wasn’t a threat. It was an act of mercy.
—
Azriel remained silent by her side as she leaned heavily onto the brick wall on the side of the street, barely managing to round the corner into the same alleyway before taking a deep shuddering breath. Uncaring that the walls were slick with an unknown sticky substance, she leaned her head back to the wall, squeezing her temples with her trembling thumb and middle finger.
“Eowyn,” he breathed softly, lowly, and she almost kissed him for it, for her head felt like it would explode if he spoke any louder.
“Can you take me home?”she asked, equally as soft and while on any other occasion she would’ve felt profoundly ashamed and embarrassed to ask for help— wouldn’t have dared to ask for it in the first place, too proud to be seen as weak, to feel herself become weak— she found she just could not give a damn.
Azriel said nothing in reply, yet she flinched slightly when she felt him approach her. Her eyes, hidden behind the veil but still closed with heavy tiredness, were both burning and felt like they didn’t belong on her body and she knew, without looking at her reflection that they appeared all-white.
She was a monster. She was a burden. Why would he ever bother with someone like her?
She felt his large strong and oh-so-careful hand cradle the back of her neck at the base, his other powerful arm reaching under her knees to swoop her in his arms while not jostling her head.
In sync, as always, she moved of her own accord in response to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and even went so far as to lay her head on his sturdy collarbone as his arm slid around her back, holding her firmly and steadily to his chest.
“You okay?” He asked in a whisper, much too used to the way their bodies seemed to just instinctively move in response to one another. She told herself it was due to their frequent sparring and proximity.
He flew them home in silence for a while, not rushing her response until she breathed out an “I will be” into his neck, resting her face there and inhaling deeply. She breathed in his soothing scent of cedar and night-chilled mist. What mist smelled like, she had no clue, but it was the only way to describe that specific scent that was true only to him.
He smelled like the misty droplets of almost-nothing water suspended in the air just before becoming tainted with the smell of earth as it lands upon a leaf or strand of grass. He smelled like the anticipation of nature, of life.
She pushed her straying thoughts away, fearful of any resurfacing delusions after a long day of loud voices in her head—loud voices! So loud she could barely hear herself think!— and the haunting visions she’d been plagued with all day.
The visions that came to mind now were of a different nature, basing entirely on the feeling of him so close, so solid, so safe around her.
Finally, she breathed, settling into that cloud of him, her left hand grasping a fistful of his wavy hair behind his ear, the other arm pulling him close to her. She couldn’t help but bask in his warmth as he flew through the early night sky, allowing his scent to permeate her senses. She buried her nose into his neck and inhaled deeply once again, shuddering at his smell, at the sound of his solid heartbeat under his skin, his strong powerful body carrying her so easily. She couldn’t get enough of him, she needed to dig deeper, fill every millimeter of her lungs with his scent, needed to fill all of her with all of him.
“Eowyn?” his voice sounded like it was underwater and thus was easy to ignore; his voice only fuelled the rest of her senses; she saw him bare and hard and aching, begging for her to take him, to let him take her. Flashes of him pounding into her, of him pressing such a strong powerful body down onto hers— “Eowyn, you’re trembling, are you alright?” He sounded scared and concerned and so unlike her eternally unemotional Illyrian.
His evident fear was like a bucket of ice cold water being poured over her head, as she gasped and jolted in his arms, eyes snapping open and pulling away from the vision she’d gotten sucked into. Like all the other visions she’d been plagued with all day, it seemed so solid, so real.
While the majority of her visions often replayed memories deeply buried, often distorted and turned extreme to exploit and lay out her vulnerabilities, this vision was different, if only just as concrete. Familiar, although it had never happened, but with the certainty that it was somehow fact and inevitable.
“I’m sorry,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut once again as she hugged him tighter. Tears slipped from her eyes, thick and viscous and burning, as if small trails of acid poured down her face. She panted as she tried to regain her composure, feeling her fingertips begin to tingle again, a telltale sign of her incoming episode, a sign she’d dismissed after her confrontation as lingering adrenaline. “Azriel, I can’t con-I can’t control them. Take me straight to Clotho and don’t- don’t listen anything I say-“
His jaw tightened, eyebrows furrowing as he frowned down at her, “I think I should take you to the house and have Madja look you over-“
“No,” she ground out through gritted teeth, “no, Clotho will know what to do, I—“ she cut herself off with a choked gasp, nails digging into Azriel’e shoulders, “please.” Then her voice changed like the flip of a switch, body falling limp and curling into itself. She spoke in a language he didn’t recognize, the consonants smooth and fluent but breathy and frightened. Her voice was barely a whisper in his ear as she spoke to someone in the recesses of her mind.
Nuunta caëderete
The next few hours came in blurry images to her. All out of order.
She knew she screamed and yelled and cried, but she couldn’t focus on anything at once as one vision turned into the next and twisted into a delusion.
She came back to consciousness, if only briefly enough, to catch a brief glance at Azriel rushing her into the library, calling out for Clotho. She remembered seeing Gwyn standing over her, face contorted with concern as she reached over to remove the veil from her head. Eowyn was only conscious enough to place a hand over her mouth to try to quell the wave of nausea that hit her, trying to cover her burning eyes with the other hand only to be stilled in place by Azriel who held tightly onto her hand.
Movement and the soft press of a mattress confirmed she had been put down in bed, but barely noticed it with the flurry of robed figures around her shuffling the large and angry winged male out of the room who refused to leave her side.
Somehow still aware of him– always aware of him like some kind of echo-location– she only had the presence of mind to snarl an, “out!” before the visions and the darkness took over again.
–
She was not aware that the Shadowsinger paced outside of the healers quarters for half an hour until the High Lord himself came in to fetch him, finding his brother angry and concerned, his hair a mess from running his hands through it and eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears of worry.
She didn’t know that that was the moment when he decided he couldn’t live without her.
No one was any the wiser to know that at that moment, he swore an oath, if only to himself– if the bargain ink that appeared in the shape of an unfamiliar rune on the side of his hip, in the exact same spot where Eowyn had her scar, confirmed– that wherever Eowyn went, Azriel vowed now and forever, to follow.
