PARTIES: @vengeancedemon, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: Early December; after this thread.
LOCATION: Max’s House
SUMMARY: Max and Emilio face off one final time.
WARNINGS: Child Death tw, Sibling Death tw, Head Trauma tw, Under the Skin tw, Unsanitary tw, Heavy Violence tw
Her hands and arms were covered in blood. And as much as Max wanted to suck the sweet, crimson off of her fingers, she still had more work to do. Unfortunately though, what she needed was upstairs, “Potty break! Figured we could both use some down time while I go relieve myself and clean up a little bit! We’ve still got to play ‘Bloody Mary’. I think you’ll be so fitting for the occasion. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, Bestie!” She gave Eve a hard slap on the back before heading upstairs to go grab some pillows from the guest bedroom to shove thumbtacks, gravel, and nails into for their pillowfight. It wasn’t a sleepover without a pillowfight!
As she unlocked the basement door with the key she had shoved in her pocket earlier, Max made sure to put it back in there snug and tight after locking it back when she made it back into the hallway upstairs. Losing that was not going to be her downfall tonight. She was almost having too much fun with her new bestie Eve, and she couldn’t wait until Emilio had heard about all the fun he had missed. Or well…seen, when she dumped Eve’s corpse on his doorstep. But that would be hours from now. The night was still young.
—
He didn’t know where he was going. The sensation was a strange one, something utterly foreign. He’d felt out of control of his body before — with Rosemary’s magic, with the bies’s hypnosis — but this didn’t feel quite the same. It wasn’t a loss of control, not really; wherever he was going, it was important. He needed to go there, needed to be there. Something was building up in his chest, like a rising tide. Hunger, maybe, or rage. The two seemed mostly interchangeable, these days.
There was a house. It stretched out in front of him, his legs carrying him towards it like a bird in migration. There was no reason given by his mind, no explanation for why he was moving as he was. It was instinct, a natural thing. He couldn’t have fought against it if he wanted to.
He moved up to the house, hand reaching out to the knob. It was locked; some part of his mind understood that this was normal, because most people didn’t leave their doors unlocked even in a town as small as Wicked’s Rest. But another, less logical part of his mind was angry about it. The door was locked, and it shouldn’t have been. The door was locked, and Emilio needed inside.
He braced himself, shoulder slamming against the wood. There was more force to it than there should have been, though this barely registered. The newfound strength surging through him, more intense even than the strength that came with each meal of vengeance he consumed, would have been strange if he were capable of thinking about it for more than a second. But the only thing that existed was what was right in front of him. Right now, that was the door. With another two slams of his shoulder against the wood, it cracked and gave in on itself, hinges screaming as they broke in. Emilio stepped into the house, dark eyes hungry as they scanned the room. He didn’t know what he was looking for until he saw it; he didn’t know what he was looking for until he saw her.
—
Max had just let Norman Bates out back to play in the yard. What was coming next for Eve, she definitely didn’t want to expose her dog too. And when she came back in after feeding him and securing the door, along with the lock on the doggie door, she entered to find a pounding at the front of the house. It definitely hadn’t been Eve, because Max had made sure everything was secured before leaving her alone. She had made that mistake once, and she sure as hell had remembered not to do it again. The other times anybody had escaped (the fucking little brat from the escape room) was because they had gotten the upperhand. But it was another mistake she had learned from. No one was going to get the upper hand on her, not even whoever was trying to break down her door.
With her guest in the basement going to the back of her mind, she latched onto one of the pillows filled with sharp bits and bobbles lying in wait for the person or thing that was fucking up her door. They would pay for it too. She’d make sure of it, but when the wood finally burst and the barrier from the outside world hit the floor with a hard thud, Max’s eyes widened at the man who was standing in her foyer. Emilio Cortez. Someone she hadn’t seen since that night at one of the filthy bars in town where she had all but practically revealed what she had done.
“Well, well, well…to what do I owe the pleasure? A Cortez standing in my doorway. You’re fucking paying for that door, you know that right? That thing was expensive. In fact, I’m going to wipe your measly little Private Investigation Business off the map with how much debt you’re going to be in. If I don’t kill you first. And yeah, that’s right, I stalked you. How do you think I got your little friend down in my basement of fun?” She shrugged. But instead of waiting for him to make a move, she went lunging forward swinging the pillowcase laced with all the wrong things at her new houseguest.
—
The rage washed over him once more at the sight of her, though there was no confusion about this. He did not know why he was here, did not know how he’d found this house, much less been led to it in the middle of his day with no real intention to come here, but he knew he wanted this vampire dead. He remembered meeting her in that bar, remembered the way she strung him along so cruelly before forming a noose with the truth and using it to strangle him. This woman — this monster — had killed an eighteen year old boy in Mexico, and Emilio’s life had never been the same after. He would never know what his brother would have been like as an adult, would never get to know if Victor would have sided with him or their mother when it came to Emilio’s child rearing practices. And that was all because of her.
She was speaking. The door was expensive, she said. He would pay for it, she claimed, as if she had not taken too much already. She wanted to kill him. That one got a laugh out of him, sharper than the stake that had somehow found its way into his grip. She was too late for that. There was discomfort in the idea that she had stalked him, that she knew things about him that he never would have told her. But it was what she said after that gave him pause; the sea of rage in his chest parted momentarily. “What friend?”
She swung a pillowcase at him, and he threw an arm up to stop it. It slammed against him hard, though he barely felt the pain. Whatever had brought him here, whatever part it played in the rage coursing through him now, it seemed to offer at least some distraction from what he ought to be feeling. Even his bad leg, a constant source of pain even on the best days, felt more numb than it had in a long time now. Everything in him told him he needed to kill this monster, and Emilio was uninterested in arguing. He pushed forward, grabbing the wrist of one of her hands and squeezing it as tightly as he could, body surging with a newfound strength. He wanted to kill her; he didn’t want to do it quickly.
—
When Emilio latched onto her arm and began squeezing it, Max could feel the small hairline cracks that were beginning to form in the bone, and as she yanked and pulled, she hissed in pain – eyes going red and fangs coming out in defense. But if she wanted to survive this, she was going to have to think on her feet, and maybe if she could distract him long enough with the truth of who was in the basement, it might give her a chance to run, “You know…the one you’re probably fucking.” Max had remembered that she had left Eve’s prosthetic leg on the kitchen counter to keep it safe, so she could pawn it off later if she needed to, “If you really want to know. There’s a part of her laying on my kitchen counter.”
Continuing to thrash around, she finally managed to free her arm, but not without a sharp pain running up it leaving her to yowl out. She was sure it was probably fractured, and though her body healed quickly. It wasn’t going to heal by the time he realized what she was doing, so she knew she’d have to be quick. But she wasn’t leaving without Norman being let out first. He had been the only other thing in her life that she had cared deeply about. Her daughter was safe in an entirely different state, and thankfully no one had known about her or Tony. But Norman Bates was already barking outside, and Max didn’t want him to become an unintended target.
—
She was in pain; he could feel it. Worse still (or better?), he could feel himself reacting to it, could feel that pain rising up from her and gathering in the pit of his stomach like a warm meal. Feeding always seemed to strengthen him, but there was something different about this. The burst he got from the small hiss of pain that tore itself from the monster’s throat was so much larger than it usually might have been. He felt stronger now than he had after stabbing Siobhan, which was the most a meal had ever fueled him. Was it because of Victor? Was it because this, unlike those other scattered meals he’d attempted, was a more personal thing?
Emilio would worry about the logistics and the details later. Right now, he just wanted to make the monster hurt. His eyes darted to the kitchen as the vampire bragged that a piece of whoever she’d nabbed was there, eyes flickering around until they caught sight of the prosthetic leg sitting on the counter. Eve. The rage in his chest grew hotter as the vampire twisted from his grip with a yowl, and he took a lumbering step towards her. His claws were out now; he barely noticed them. His hand went for her throat, an echo of the way he had grabbed the woman in Owen’s apartment, the one he had not meant to kill. This time, though, the action was deliberate. Tearing this vampire’s throat out wouldn’t kill her, but it would make him feel good. It would make her hurt. For Victor, for Eve. For himself, too, maybe. He would take her apart piece by piece, let her watch her limbs turn to dust one by one before he pulled her heart from her fucking chest.
His own words from just before his death echoed in his mind now. I’m going to kill you. I’m going to make it hurt. This time, he thought, he’d make good on the promise.
—
The distraction that Max had longed for hadn’t worked long enough. Emilio was right back on her trail, but this time the man was lunging at her with…claws? He clearly wasn’t what she thought, and for the briefest moment, she almost wondered if she had the wrong man. But she didn’t. Not with the way he was fuming over the discovery of Eve. Nope. He clearly wasn’t human anymore, but Max didn’t know what. But maybe she could use that to her advantage. The same way Eve had got under Max’s skin, maybe she could get under Emilio’s.
But first she needed to flee from him. Make her escape. Well at least enough of one that didn’t get her throat ripped out by those monstrous claws. And it came in the way of putting the couch in her living room between her and the raging beast of a man, “Funny. I don’t remember hunters having claws…Which means…you’re not a hunter anymore. Right, Emilio? What would your family say now? Talk about being a disappointment. Isn’t Hunter101 pretty much don’t become what you hunt?” A sneer fell over her face at least to cover up the fear lingering just below the surface. It had been rare for Max to actually be afraid, but right now, she was. And that biggest fear was probably because, if Emilio caught her, she would never see her daughter again, and never have the chance to actually make things right with her, unlike with her son.
—
There was a couch between him and her, and if the fire of rage burning in his chest at the obstacle had been a physical one, it would have been hot enough to burn the entire goddamn house to ash. It was difficult to think, difficult to see; Emilio wasn’t sure he’d ever been as angry as he was now. Here was this monster in front of him who had murdered his brother years ago, whose crime had defined his childhood and shaped him into whatever he was now. She had robbed the world of someone who, given a chance, would have grown into a good man. She had robbed his family of something he could not put to words.
(He thought of his sister’s voice, years ago, wavering quietly in his doorway: I wish you had died, instead of Victor. He thought of his mind responding even as his voice had remained locked somewhere deep within his throat: Yeah. Me, too.)
How was it fair that, after all of this, the monster had decided it had not taken enough? How was it that, decades after killing an eighteen year old boy and leaving his brother broken and unsteady, she had decided she was entitled to more? Victor, at eighteen, had not deserved what this woman did to him. Eve, somewhere in the basement, didn’t deserve it, either.
All Emilio could do, then, was to give the monster what she deserved instead. And that meant ripping her limb from limb. “Come closer,” he said lowly, “and I will show you what Hunter 101 is. Why are you running? Are you afraid? Hm?” Had Victor been afraid? Was Eve? Would it make any of that better if he killed Max now? (It would make him feel better, for a moment. It always did. Whatever happened when that moment passed was irrelevant.)
—
Max was staring down a face of torment and rage. A face that had endured so much in his lifetime because of her actions. Because of her thoughtless and careless actions. This had been Maxine her entire existence. No one’s feelings mattered except her own. Sometimes her parents and very rarely her own children until it mattered the most. For over a century, Max acted on what she needed and, more importantly, wanted, but those actions rarely had consequences. And when they did, she usually fled. But now her baby boy was dead, and there wasn’t a chance to make things right with him. Her daughter was knocking on death’s door. And in this very moment, Maxine was close to having all of the consequences of her inconsiderate habits finally catch up with her.
Did she admit fear to this man? He wasn’t going to take pity on her. She had made her bed, and she was going to have to continue to lie in it. In fact, all the people in the world who had ever taken pity on Max had, for the most part, ended up in a shallow grave somewhere – exactly where she had belonged. She couldn’t tell him she was afraid. It would only feed him and make him stronger. Never let the strong know your weaknesses right? A lesson she had learned early in life, “Me afraid? When have I ever been afraid, Emilio. I wasn’t afraid when I was in the basement ripping your friend’s toenails off or when I carved my name into her chest with a blunt boxcutter. And I wasn’t afraid when I murdered Victor in cold blood and then stood him front and center for the birds to pick his eyes out.” She sneered in his direction, before quickly maneuvering her way past him and into the kitchen, where she had more of a chance of grabbing a knife.
—
In the early days of his youth — when he was six years old and terrified, unable to fully wrap his head around the duty set ahead of him or the idea that his death would come early and violently — Emilio had often been chastised for his inability to act without emotion. Amongst his siblings, he’d always had the hardest time with it.
Rosa wore her coldness like a second skin, settled atop the first so snug that it was impossible to know how much of it was an act and how much of it was her. Even motherhood hadn’t fully softened her, though Emilio always got the feeling she hadn’t enjoyed Jaime’s training; he remembered how anxious she’d been the day Jaime was locked in the shed the first time, remembered thinking it was the first time he’d ever seen his sister worry. It hadn’t felt as much like a victory as a lifetime of sibling rivalry made it seem like it should have.
Edgar, for his part, had been more logical. Though his formal education went no deeper than Emilio’s, he’d always had a way of looking at the world like a series of puzzles to solve. The undead were not people so much as they were problems with unique and varied solutions, and Edgar had liked exploring them all. It had never seemed like cruelty at the time, at least not to Emilio. Looking back at it now, perhaps he ought to be horrified. All he could really wonder was what solution Edgar might have found for a fury with his brother’s face.
The closest to Emilio, in terms of the inability to turn emotion off, had been Victor. The comparison seemed vaguely unfair now, of course. Victor was rash and impulsive, but most eighteen year old boys were. Had he been allowed to live, perhaps he’d have grown out of it. Maybe he’d have turned into someone cold like Rosa, or logical like Edgar. Emilio had always thought that Victor would have turned out far better than he, though it had never seemed like much of a contest.
After all, his emotions were impossible, warring things. At six, he’d been terrified. At twelve, when Victor was dead and the world seemed emptier, he’d been desolate. At twenty-eight, with a tiny bundle of curly hair and wide eyes pressed into his arms, he’d been so full of doubt that there hadn’t seemed room for anything else at all. And now, at thirty-five, with an empty chest and clawed hands, he was angry. In a way, he preferred that. Fear would strangle you, grief would hollow you out, doubt would trip you up, but anger could fuel you. Anger could surge you forward, could light a fire beneath you. The flames might consume you, but at least you could count on the smoke to suffocate everyone else along the way.
And this woman — this monster — would suffocate. It didn’t matter that her lungs were as empty as his, didn’t matter that she’d died long before he was born at all. What mattered was that, thirty years ago, she’d killed an eighteen year old boy in Mexico. He was impulsive and he was rash and he was a kid, and maybe he would have grown up to be cold or full of cruel logic or too angry to breathe sometimes, but he’d still deserved a chance to grow up. What mattered was that, right now, there was a woman in the basement. Emilio snapped at her when he shouldn’t have, used her as a punching bag when she didn’t quite deserve it, but she kept coming back, anyway. She listened to him when he needed someone to listen; she stepped away when he needed to be alone. She was a better friend than he’d ever be able to earn, and she didn’t deserve to suffer because of it. She didn’t deserve to get caught in his explosion, to taste his shrapnel. Victor hadn’t deserved to die. And the woman in front of him hadn’t deserved the years she’d gotten, years where she’d laughed and drank and fucked.
He could not save Victor, thirty years gone. He could not save Eve the suffering she’d already gone through in that basement. But he could do the only thing he’d ever really been good at: he could avenge them both.
Max ran by him, and he let her. He let her get all the way to the kitchen, let her fumble for that knife. When he moved forward, it wasn’t quick. He thought he’d be more capable of it now than he usually was — whatever was fueling him made the pain in his bad leg a distant thing, as present as it always was but disconnected, in a way — but he felt no need to utilize it. Instead, he moved slowly and deliberately, his too-wide steps a quiet echo of steps taken years ago in a living room in Mexico, pacing outside the bedroom door. He’d been too afraid to go in then, been nervous about the new life being pushed into the world just beyond the threshold. He wasn’t afraid now, wasn’t nervous. All he was was angry.
It took six steps to reach her. He could have gotten his hands on her in five, but he wanted to be closer. Had either of them needed to breathe, they would have had to share the oxygen between them with how close his face was to hers, eyes burning with rage and hate and fury as they stared into hers. “You think you’re good at hurting people,” he said lowly, voice more of a growl than anything else. “You think you’re skilled in it. You have had many years to practice, ¿sí? Many years of taking people apart, of watching them bleed. I’ve had less time than you have. Yeah. But me, I learned it honestly. The best way to learn how to hurt people is to be hurt first, I think. You can hurt people and watch them, but it isn’t the same. You’re just a spectator. There is no watch and learn, not really. There is watch and mimic. Watch and pretend. Watch and try to replicate. You died, yes. But how long ago now? Can you still taste your blood on your tongue? Do you still remember how afraid you were when the lights went out?” He leaned in, close to her ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll remind you.”
The moment the last syllable left his lips, his hand moved forward. Sharp claws made an entryway; supernatural strength burst down the door. His hand moved past flesh and tendon, sinking into her gut. He could feel dead organs beneath his fingers, could feel intestines and things whose names he did not know. A spleen, maybe? A liver? It didn’t matter much. He closed his fist around it all and twisted, the wet sound of squelching through the empty air.
—
His deliberate movements, slow, steady, and sure of himself, had made Maxine incredibly nervous. So much so that her hands had fumbled with the weapon. A first in quite a long time. He was already getting into her head just with the rage alone that seemed to radiate off of his form. And then his words. His words were exact. Pinpoint. She had had years of practice. Years of taking people out of their element and into her own where she had the upper hand and could do with them as she had pleased. So many people and creatures of all types that she had managed to make playthings out of until she had extinguished what made them well…them, in both mind body and soul.
But tonight Emilio had the upper hand, so much so that before Max could get past him to safety, she had felt his hand, and even sharper claws, run into her stomach so deep that it felt like he was going to burst through her back.
Immediately, the pressure on her guts and organs had reminded her of her children growing inside her belly. It had been almost a century ago since they had been a part of her. Pressing into parts she didn’t even know she had, had made her miserable with morning sickness so bad, it left her bedbound; a feeling she swore she’d never experience again after they were born. But in this moment, as the better parts of her life – purer parts, had flashed in front of her eyes, all Maxine could think about was them. All she could picture was them growing throughout the years and the way they had looked more recently. And then how she only imagined Tony looked when he closed his eyes for the final time.
“Delores…” The name slipped quietly from her lips as Emilio’s hand dug around for a lost treasure he would probably never find…her heart. And in that instance, Maxine knew she had to get out of this so she could be with her daughter. So she could spend the last precious years her daughter had left, knowing that despite how horrible her mother truly was, that she had still loved her and her brother. And that she had been there in her own ways watching them grow over the years.
Letting out an agonizing scream, Max shoved the knife repeatedly into Emilio’s arm, before she finally attempted to saw the mangled and raw limb off trying desperately to get him away from her. And using as much leverage as she could with one foot, despite the way her organs shifted from the foreign body lingering in her belly, the vampire managed to back off of his arm and claws as fowl, darkened blood spilled out onto the floor and her guts hung eviscerated from the hole in her stomach.
It had been the closest she had ever been to finally dying as a vampire. And though she deserved it, she wasn’t going to die here. If death was going to take her, it was going to be somewhere closer to her daughter and the life she should’ve lived.
“You don’t get the pleasure of watching me die…” The words were bated and choked off as Max looked around desperately for anything that would help her escape, and then she spotted her spice rack. Different flavors of Puerto Rico and Ireland all neatly lined up and waiting to be thrown in Emilio’s face. And without waiting any longer, not wanting to give him any more of an opening, Max grabbed jar after jar of sazón, throwing it in the fury’s face along with cinnamon, nutmeg, and some crushed Carolina Reaper peppers for good measure, “Let me introduce you to my heritage, Bitch!” And when she was sure that he had been spiced just right, she grabbed a cutting board, knocking him upside the head with it, before desperately grabbing her car keys and running towards the backdoor and into the backyard to get Norman Bates.
—
Fear could make a monster look almost human, when it burned bright enough. It was something Emilio had learned at a young age, when his stake was almost too big to fit in his tiny hands. His uncle stood behind him, guiding his hand forward until his stake pressed against the chest of something with fear in its eyes and chains holding it in place. His mother often utilized this practice, often restrained undead beings so that Emilio and his siblings could kill them even before they were old enough to hold their own in a fair fight. Not all training was a physical thing; a good hunter needed to be able to push past the emotional parts of what they did, too.
This meant that there was never a gag in place to silence these creatures. Emilio could recall how this one — and most of the others in the same position — had begged. Monsters, when they knew the end was coming soon, would do or say anything to make you hesitate. That was what his mother told him, cold and hard. They would tell you about their families, as if their victims had not had families of their own. They would give you their reasoning, sometimes, as if they could justify whatever terrible things they had done with a sad story.
But there was no justification. There was no excuse, there was no room for pity. A monster was a monster, even when it begged. A monster was a monster, even when you were looking at it in the mirror.
The monster in front of him looked afraid now, with his hand buried deep in her guts. He could see the fear reflected in her eyes, could feel it in the air suspended between them. There was no terrified heartbeat reverberating through her chest, of course, no physical sign of the anxiety coiled in her stomach, but that did not mean it wasn’t there. She was afraid, and maybe there was a time when this would have affected him, somehow. Maybe there was a time when this might have inspired him to just finish the goddamn job, to stop playing with his prey and just kill it. But it was impossible not to think about Victor, who must have been terrified. It was impossible not to think about Eve, who was probably afraid, still, somewhere in this house. Their fear had done nothing to rattle this monster, and so hers would do nothing to rattle Emilio. The name that slipped from her lips gave him no pause, because he was sure Victor had said someone’s name, too. He was sure Eve had. He was sure all of her victims had been afraid, and he was sure all of her victims had pleaded, and he was sure that all of her victims had found no mercy in spite of this.
The blade of a knife found its way into his arm, shoved deep into his flesh over and over and over again. He barely felt it, but his body reacted all the same, his arm jerking back to get away from the blade and pulling half her guts out with it. Her intestines hung limply from the hole in her stomach; Emilio wanted to reach out and grab them, wanted to slice through them with his claws the way that siren had sliced through his chest and plucked his heart from within him.
Before he could act on this impulse, though, something was hitting him in the face. Spices blinded him, making it impossible to see her next attack coming. Said attack was felt quickly enough, the cutting board slamming into his head hard enough to disorient. Emilio stumbled, letting out a low growl as he reached blindly into his jacket pocket to retrieve a stake and stumbled after her. If she wanted this to be over, he would end it.
His hand found her shoulder, claws sinking cruelly into her flesh as his other hand shot out blindly with the stake. He couldn’t see where he was aiming, but he felt the wood sink into flesh. It was a shame he wouldn’t be able to watch her die, but he was glad to know she would. He was glad to know she’d suffered first, glad to know she’d died afraid. It wasn’t justice, not really. Victor was still dead. Eve was still hurt. But she wouldn’t do this to anyone else, and Emilio would feel a little better knowing that.
He’d feel a little less hungry, too.
—
Maxine’s feet carried her closer and closer to the door, but everything around her seemed brighter than normal. Her eyes couldn’t focus, and then she felt his claws once more followed by a stake he had at the ready. And when the wood pierced flesh and splintered in her body, Max let out a blood curdling scream of agony. It was close. So close to her heart, but not close enough. It was as if something, Antonio perhaps, had been watching out for her. Giving her a third chance to make things right with her only remaining child. It was something most people didn’t usually get, but if she could drag her feet out the door…
Crawl out the door…
Her body was getting harder and harder to maneuver, until she was outside. Out in the cold brisk air with eyes fading, until Norman Bates was licking her on the face. A jolt of hot dog slobber and the smell of rotted flesh on his breath enough to bring her back to her senses, before Emilio could realize that she had in fact survived his “stake through the heart”. But she had to be quiet about it. Stealthy. But how could you be stealthy when your guts were hanging out and your dog was threatening to play with them like a chew toy?
“Norman, here, boy.” Max’s words were a whisper as they slipped out of the gate and into the treeline. She’d known the woods behind her house like the back of her hand, because those woods had held many secrets, including a duffle bag with all she would need for a quick escape, including the keys to another car that lay covered up a few miles down towards the end of the dead end road she had resided on.
Walking had been hard; nearly impossible as she forced her guts back in with one arm and held the duffle on the shoulder Emilio had sunk his claws into. But as she drew closer and closer, Max formed a plan and went over it repeatedly as a distraction to the pain she was currently feeling. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Though nothing had ever been quite this bad, you didn’t take a century old vampire out in one fell swoop, even if you thought you had lived a hundred lifetimes and were much wiser than the so-called “monsters” you hunted. Slayers were always cocky like that. Forgetting time could be a valuable asset to the things they were hunting.
When she reached the car, she pulled the keys from the front of the duffle. It was painful maneuvering into the car, but once she was secure with Norman, Max quickly set the GPS to the small town her daughter lived in. Blood would come later from a gas station attendant she had been scoping out for a while, in case she had ever gotten herself into a situation like tonight. And then, she’d reluctantly sew her stomach up. The funny thing about being a vampire was that even though your intestines were important, they no longer functioned at a fast enough pace to keep you alive, which meant they could dangle for days, Max would be fine, but most people didn’t like that visual, and the last thing the vampire had wanted was for the cops to be called or an ambulance.
It was all very methodical. That’s mostly how Max’s brain had functioned over the years. Organized chaos that made sense to no one but her. And now, as she sat just outside the city limits to the small town that held all of her children’s memories, Maxine closed her eyes one last time, thinking of her son, before pulling back onto the road headed straight for her daughter’s house passing a sign, she had never noticed before, that said, “Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life!”
PARTIES: @technowarden, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: Early December
LOCATION: Max’s House
SUMMARY: Max "invites" Eve over for a sleepover!
WARNINGS: Child Death tw, Parental Death tw (mention), Head Trauma tw, Unsanitary tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Heavy Violence tw, Torture tw
Eve woke up to the ringing of her alarm. Her limbs were like lodestones, her eyelids glued together with sleep. She wanted to roll over and swipe at the blaring noise, but her limbs wouldn’t cooperate, tangled up in the sheets. She was sitting upright, she must have fallen asleep while typing at her desk. Henri would make fun of that. He was always such an advocate of winding down properly in the evening, often with a book and Livy on his lap.
Focus. Something wasn’t right. That wasn’t what her alarm sounded like. Eve had better fucking fucking taste than waking up to “Living La Vida Loca.” No, the blaring was coming from inside her head, a pulsing pain that radiated out like electric waves. Her phone didn’t have speakers like that anyway, this sounded more like her car’s speakers. But her car seat was more comfortable than this. Maybe not for Emilio, that one time he’d woken up in a body bag, strapped down in an unfamiliar space. Something that was feeling increasingly relevant as she realised how easy it was to move. Or not move, maybe. No wonder Emilio had been threshing about, trying
Focus. Eve cracked open an eye. A flood of white light burned into her mind. Through the crack, she could see white, matt walls, and metal rolling trays with an assortment of commitment in them. Her head was tilted down, so that was what she saw first: her arms, tied down. There were no sheaths pressing against her skin, or uncomfortable weapons pressing into her hips. They’d all been peeled away, one by one. (Probably not one by one. Probably several at a time, like the way Eve did it. It was inconvenient to carry a corpse with weapons still attached to it. Probably same for unconscious bodies too, she figured. )
Focus. There was someone else in the room. The person who had brought her here, and strapped her to an uncomfortable chair. Shit, she could see it now. The new case study of Eve Farran. The unlucky thing about being a case study who survived? You’d get to be a second case study when you died. First mistake: let someone sneak up on you. Sometimes, your case study might have half a dozen mistakes. Sometimes, it was one and done. This might just be the latter. Eve could picture it now; her brother lecturing kids around a campfire, his voice unwavering as he described his baby sister’s demise.
Why the fuck was it so hard to focus? Eve tilted her head just slightly, and felt a warm droplet run down the back of her neck, from where the blaring pain radiated out.
Ah. That would be why.
—
The inner pain of losing her son had become insurmountable, and the numerous kills Maxine had committed since she had come back from New York were getting sloppier and sloppier by the day. But when she had finally figured it was: go big or go home, the cat and mouse game she had been playing with the Cortez family for years now had been just the distraction she had needed. Emilio had been the easiest target. And though every fiber in her being wanted to encounter him and finally put an end to one of the biggest targets on her bucket list, she found that to be way too gauche, because the one thing Maxine Diaz had always strived for was to put on a show.
With Ricky Martin blasting over the cd player downstairs, Max slipped on a pair of latex gloves and the newly acquired lab coat she had ordered from Amazon, “Well, well, well. Looks like Sleeping Beauty finally decided to awaken from her slumber. How lovely of you to finally grace me with your presence.” The comment held less sarcasm than it usually would, and more hostility. “I hope you like my choice of music today. Taking it back a few years to the early 2000s. When I had a similar encounter.” For amusement, she rammed her steel-toed boot into the side of the chair giving it a swift jolt to make sure Eve didn’t doze back off on her.
“So I was thinking we could have a little fun. Little girl’s night, sleepover type deal. I mean, totally rude, you just falling asleep without me, but whatever. It’s not like I sleep that often anyways. Got too much going on in the old noggin’ you know?” Max tapped on the side of her head before moving over to the cd player and turning the music down where they could better communicate, “And of course, I made the perfect mixtape for us while you were down here snoring. It’s got Ricky Martin, Britney Spears, Menudo…Yeah, yeah, I know they’re 80s, but whatever. This is my party, and I’ll fucking cry if I want to.”
It was clear to see that Tony’s death was affecting Maxine harder than anything else ever had, including the loss of her parents, and the only way she had known how to cope was becoming a little more unhinged than her regular carefree do-whatever-the-fuck-she-wanted attitude. Good for her to distract from what most normal humans would call grief, but more so dangerous for anyone in her path, “So what should we do first? Paint our fingernails and gossip about boys or do each other’s hair?” Her eyes were wide with an excitement that would strike fear in most people.
—
In a Bond movie, you would play this situation perfectly cool. Without even looking at your arms, you’d know the exact weaknesses of your restraints, could make a few quips, and then break free.
This was no movie. The harsh smell of her own blood in the sterile environment was proof of that. As the woman in front of her spoke, her voice didn't echo or bounce off the walls, and nor did the music. It sounded much like her own sound proofed room, like there was nothing that would escape here. No sound, no person. Just a deranged woman in a lab coat calling her sleeping beauty. Which brought her back to- right. Restraints and the testing thereof.
No way to do it subtly. Eve yanked at the duct tape tightly wound around her arms and leg. (The prosthetic was tied up too, but “struggle against abduction” was not a setting it had, strangely enough.) Not built for humans, apparently. She tried to rock the chair, but it stayed bolted to the ground. No Black Widow moves need apply. Okay. That was not a problem. Well, perhaps a bit of one, but definitely solvable. She'd figure out how any moment.
“Brittney’s always a bop. I know a woman of taste when I see one,” She replied, looking back up at the woman with the latex gloves. A true professional, Eve thought. It would be admirable if she could ignore what was coming next. (Even she wasn't concussed enough to be confused about exactly what was next.) But she couldn't think about that. Focus on solutions. Like exits.
Well, exit. One, exactly, obviously closed so there was no idea as to what was beyond. No windows, either, which either meant she was deep inside a building, or she was below ground.
With options dwindling (dwindled), Eve looked back at the woman. The bright lights made her eyes burn and her head pound, but it was important for her to look. To try to burn this face into her memory, to try and spot where Eve’s own weapons might be, or where the woman might carry weapons. Know thine enemy. Eve smiled. “I’d love to do your hair! God, it’s been– it’s been forever since I’ve had a sleepover. This looks cute. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
—
Max had been stalking Eve for quite sometime. Which honestly, considering how the other woman had conveniently been a part of Emilio’s life had made it a lot easier. And now, here she was. Another person and their death, that the Cortez family would soon be responsible for. She’d love rubbing this in Emilio’s face when the time came. It would bring her so much pleasure. Watching his face contort into something gross and unrecognizable. Much like Lucio’s face after she had slaughtered Victor and posed him for pictures. Maybe she’d have more luck with Emilio. Stick him dead (hehe, get it, dead) center in downtown Wicked’s Rest? Or maybe she could stuff him like a taxidermied rat and pose him with a beer in his hand propped up next to a jukebox in a bar. Just like the Joe Diffie song had aptly described. The options were endless.
“Oh stop. You don’t have to butter me up. I’m still going to kill you in a very slow and painful way, but maybe I’ll let you choose the soundtrack to your own demise?” Max wasn’t all that unreasonable. She knew different people had different tastes in music, and as Ricky Martin went off, it just so happened that “Baby One More Time” came on. As Britney’s voice rang out in the basement, Max began dancing along to the music, and when the well known singer let the words “Hit me baby one more time” come out, Max sent a hard fist into the side of Eve’s face, “Fuck! I love this song!”
Dancing her way over to the counter that held all types of tools, she began to pick out what might be fun, including a hairbrush that looked like it had pieces of scalp and other gross things stuck to it, “If we’re doing hair, me first obvi, because you’re my guest! Duh! Now, the more important question? Blue scrunchie or red scrunchie? The red might cover the blood better.” She turned to face Eve holding up the dingy looking scrunchies, “What do you think?” But before Eve could give an answer, Max made up her mind, “Red it is!”
Tossing everything onto a small metal tray that was on wheels, she pulled it and her rolling stool over, “Look you’re Emilio’s friend right? We go way back, and any friend of the Cortez family is a friend of mine. Just thought we could have a fun girl’s night, you know?”
—
As Max spelled out how long the process would be, Eve’s face flooded with fear. She didn’t even need to worry about faking it. The only thought worse than dying was dying slowly, spending hours in death’s waiting room yet again, begging for a release. She didn’t think it would be a bad thing for the woman to know that, though. Before she could answer, the woman’s fist slammed into the side of her head, leaving Eve reeling as gasping for breath as her brain rattled around inside of her. She felt sick.
Eve spat out a mouthful of blood, and dragged her eyes back up to Max. “Great eye, I look good in red.”
There were some hunters who trained for this, Eve knew. Not just the restraints or the fight, but the… other part. So they could learn to endure pain. Parents who permanently scarred their kids just in case. The Farrans had never been like that. They said it was because Fae rarely had to default to physical pain to reach their ways. Why destroy someone physically when you could destroy their mind without anyone being the wiser. Eve had always suspected that her parents hadn’t ever wanted to, that they told themselves it was kinder to train their kids to be able to ignore every feeling, including love. (How could you not, when a fae could steal your heart or your loved one’s face?) It was why Eve was able to look at Emilio and love him and believe he ought to die at the same time. Feelings and duty were separate. Not that now was about feelings, or Emilio. Focus, Evie. Now was about information, and finding weaknesses. It was about surviving.
Except apparently it was about Emilio, as the woman manically revealed. That was good, Eve told herself, over and over. It wasn’t her failure that had landed her here, and it wasn’t information that this woman was after. It was just pain. It was just about carving a message into Eve’s body for someone else to receive, and enjoying the process. That was better, Eve told herself. (What was not better was that an enemy of the Cortez’s was going to be harder to kill, especially without a blade to her name. But at least it was information. That was good too, right?)
“Girl, come on, we’re doing this because of a man? Damn. Not surprising. You know, I've never been special enough to have a nemesis of-of my own. Lowkey always wanted one. But Emilio collects them every time he breathes.” The implication was clear: you're not special. This woman seemed pretty fucking unhinged – Eve’s words could be a weapon when little else was available. Keep herself detached from the pain and the fogginess in her brain, and let this woman get caught up in her agitation and make a mistake.
She exhaled slowly as she felt the comb starting to part her hair, promising herself she wouldn’t make this easy for the woman. It was like dating, if you got the reaction you wanted too quickly, it ruined the fun. Eve was a fun date.
She desperately wished she didn’t need to be a fun torturee too.
—
Max grinned when Eve agreed with her, “Atta girl! You know what looks hot.” She winked at her as she sat down on her stool. It would take some adjusting of the seat, just mostly to build tension, but then she’d be ready to work her magic. It was going to be such a fun night. Max hadn’t had a true sleepover in years. Most of the people she had over were usually dead before the night was up, but maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time, she could spare Eve. Keep her around for a few days, before tossing her rotted and decaying corpse onto Emilio’s front steps. What a way to start an investigation off huh? With the moldy body of your best friend?
Running the brush through Eve’s hair, Max was gentle at first. At least until the small talk started again, “Well guess what baby? Tonight, I’m your nemesis, because you know the next time you leave this basement, it’s gonna be in either a bodybag or in pieces. How does that sound?” She leaned forward and nuzzled the side of Eve’s face, “And the rest of Emilio’s so-called nemeses ain’t got shit on me. You should’ve seen Lucio’s face after I played dollies with sweet, little Victor. I might just do that to you, if you think it’d be something you’d enjoy.” The gentleness of the brushing soon faded as she ripped it out of the back of Eve’s hair, “I know! You can be Bloody Corpse Barbie, and I’ll dress you up in something totally cute so everybody will be, like, jealous of the new outfit on your festering corpse!”
—
Eve viscerally recoiled from Max’s nuzzling, and then wished she’d instead thought to smack her skull into the woman’s instead. It would probably do her more harm than her new nemesis, but at least it would have done some harm. “Aw, thanks babes, but I don’t even know your name! I feel like Nem-” Eve tensed the moment the metallic bristles of the brush dug into her scalp. “Nemeses know each other’s names, you know?”
She clamped shut her jaw, tendons in her neck straining as she suppressed a keen in her throat as the hair brush ripped back, tearing at the skin already damaged by the hit had taken earlier. A lightning bolt of pain shot through her scalp as tangled hair ripped out of a surgical site almost thirteen years old, along a scar that Eve liked to pretend didn’t exist. Where her skull had once been bolted back together.
“Emilio doesn’t even know what you did to Victor,” Eve panted, “Not sure you rank as highly as you think you do.” There was a specific angle for duct tape, where if you pulled it in just the right way, it would snap easily. Eve knew it, she’d learned it by heart as a teenager. She twisted and jerk her arms as harshly as she could… and couldn’t hit the angle.
Her only way out was the psychotic woman ripping out her scalp bit by bit. The thought hit her like a bucket of ice.
—
“I am so sorry. How rude of me. You can call me Max, and you’re Eve. You and Emilio are besties right…or is it more like fuck buddies? You know, if he wasn’t so fucking ridgid, I’d ride him like a horse.” She had to admit, Emilio did look like he had been ridden hard and put up wet most days, but Max had still seen potential. Of course, how could she even expect that to work. Nothing like riding someone just to have them stab you in the back mid-fuck.
Max continued to brush Eve’s hair grinning like a giddy school girl as she watched the hair slowly rip from the woman’s scalp; little bits of blood coming to the surface from the damaged follicles, “Why do you think that?” Eve’s words of trying to put Max down, though not damaging enough, was starting to get under the vampire’s own dead skin. “I all but told him when we first met. Surely the man can put two and two together, unless he’s really drunk his last brain cell away. Which I could totally see.”
When she was finished brushing Eve’s hair, she pulled up as much of it as she could and put it in an extremely tight ponytail. Rolling back to the front, Max looked over her masterpiece, “OMG. You look so fucking hot! Bald patches and all! You know what we should do next?! Mani/Pedis!!! Quick! What’s your favorite color?” Max rolled back over to the counter to look at her selection of nail polishes she had brought down just for the occasion when she was getting prepared for Eve. Her collection also included vodka, salt, limes, and everything else that could be fun for a sleepover. Well…deadover.
—
Max. At least now she had a name. A name, a face, a motive. Information that was futile without an escape. Eve swallowed as her attempt to neg Max fell apart. “Funny, he’s never- ah- mentioned it. You’re not even in the top five worst things that have happened to him.”
Eve exhaled sharply as the comb yanked out her hair for the last time, taking the brief respite as Max crowed about how beautiful she was. She tilted her head slowly, scalp and skull and brain screaming at the movement, as she looked over at the counter of nailpolishes, her mind trying to predict what was coming next, as if she could prepare herself for having her fingers snapped, or splints shoved into her nailbeds.
“...Yellow. What’s yours?” It was a convincing if unnecessary lie. If Eve was going to die here, she wanted to keep every inch of her self away from Max that she could. Max might get her body, but this small sliver of herself was Eve’s to keep. Not that she was going to die. Her heart hammered in her chest, her head pounded, her body fighting to be alive, became more and more frantic in straining against her restraints, against her own wishes. She couldn’t think while her body screamed.
There was a shadow in the corner of the room. It was just from the dimming lights, Eve told herself. Ignore that. Focus on the tools Max brought to the party, on the collection of metal implements. Blunt objects, pliers, none of that was useful to her. The blades… that could be something, if she could get it in her hands long enough.
—
Eve was really starting to push Max’s buttons, so instead of simply taking a pretty, yellow nail polish, the color of the sun that Max would make sure Eve never saw again, and painting the woman’s nails, she grabbed a pair of pliers, “My favorite is red. Like a deep, dark crimson red. You know…the one after oxygen has reached blood.” She forced a grin as she snatched up the nail polish and rolled back over.
“I think yellow is going to look great!” Thankfully nail polish bottles were meant to withstand a lot, so when Max slammed it down on the tray, it had held its own quite well, “I’m thinking a pedicure though, you know, since you’re a little tied up at the moment? Oh! And I almost forgot one other thing!” Going back to the counter, she grabbed a scalpel, “Can’t forget to push those cuticles back. Wouldn’t want this pedi to look like shit!”
Dropping down to the floor, she ripped off Eve’s shoe and tossed it to the side, “Funny…the last little piggies I played with belonged to a cat with a fetish.” Max looked over Eve’s toes that were surprisingly delicate and not what she had expected. Taking the bladed instrument, Max gently began pushing the skin at the back of the nail inward as blood began to trickle from each toe, “There! So much better! You said yellow right? You’re in luck. I bought the prettiest yellow they had. Now we’ve just gotta clean those nails off and we’ll be good to go!” Taking the pliers, Max opened and closed them teasingly in front of Eve before going back to work on her masterpiece. Latching onto the end of the nail, Max slowly began to rip out each toenail wiggling and gritting her teeth at the resistance each one held. The big toe had been the hardest, “Fuck that one’s in there really good!” And when she finally was able to yank it free, she screamed “Huzzah!” in success!
With all the bloody toenails lined up on the tray, Max climbed back up on the stool and went to wipe them off. She was delicate with the small bits of Eve. There was an artform to this afterall. And with great intent and her tongue sticking out slightly, she focused on painting each nail the requested yellow color – bits of blood swirling with the lighter shade giving some of the nails an orange tint, “Finished! What do you think?” It had been the best thing, pushing Eve’s snide comment out of her mind, because any thought of her not being a threat in Emilio’s life had disappeared for the time being.
—
“If you’ve done this before, you might be the one with a fetish.” Eve commented idly, her heart jackrabbiting up further up her chest as she felt her shoe ripped off, nausea roiling in her stomach. She tried to jerk her leg away (her only leg), but the binds wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t logical to keep trying, but instinct was a bucking horse inside her. Eve’s eyes were wide as she hissed, and then keened, and then groaned, her foot jerking with every yank of the pliers. The floor became slick and warm under the bare sole of her foot. Electricity whistled through her as Eve slumped over, keening in a sound that was much less human than Max’s celebrations. (Not a scream, though. A scream only served to damn her. She wasn’t sure she could even if she wanted to.)
Eve wasn’t looking at Max as Max painted her nails. She wasn’t looking at anything at all. Or perhaps she was looking at the bugs on the forest floor, or the fresh fall leaves, or the distant birdsong. She was half here, half somewhere else, when she had lain in a pool of her blood mixing with the mud, bleeding from a much worse injury. Eve had been closer to death then, sure, cracked skull, toruniqueted thigh, stabbed by the ribs in her chest. This was nothing, in comparison. Nothing. And yet Death lingered in the corner. Eve wasn’t in the waiting room, but she was in the lobby. Max was not a wolf that had lost the scent, she was right in front of her, marching her down a path Eve had no control over.
Walking would be excruciating. She was in a basement, which meant that somewhere, there were stairs. Eventually, her prosthetic leg would run out of power. Eventually, she would run out of blood. (Not for a while - scalp and feet; these were injuries made for pain, not for blood loss.) Eve’s breath shuddered and shook as the futility of her situation slammed into her. These restraints she could not break, the weapons she did not have. Eventually, her phone and computers would notice her lack of activity and send an alert to a chosen few friends in town that something was wrong, but her phone wasn’t here. Eve turned her eyes back to Max, and realised she’d been asked a question. She didn’t see the outline of a phone in Max’s lab coat there either.
Raising her blood-stained chin, Eve replied, “I think you’re pathetic. I think you want attention because you’re missing something profound in your life. Oh, and your nail polish is cheap and tacky.”
—
This had been an artform. A masterpiece. Some of Max’s best work yet, and that’s what Eve had to say? In the quickest instant everything about her life and the lives of her children had come rushing back, including the night she had found out about Tony. It was almost as if Max had briefly shut down. Logged off from reality for a moment, before an agonizing wail was released from her lips, and she swiped her hand across the tray sending the tools and freshly painted toenails flying. Everything scattered and in other parts of the room, including a scalpel that had ended up in a convenient spot for Eve.
“You…You ungrateful fucking bitch. You don’t get to talk to me about my life. My life is of no business to you. You’re going to wish you had never said a damn fucking word.” Taking the bottle of toenail polish remover, she knocked Eve upside the head with it, before uncapping it and pouring it onto the woman’s toes. At this point, she was raging. She was trying to make things a million times worse for the person who had just sent her through an eternity of pain. Pain she had so desperately wanted to cover up.
Not knowing where the scalpel had gone, Max grabbed a box cutter from the workbench and opened it up, “Emilio’s going to know exactly who murdered you by the cute little name tag I’m about to leave for him.” With hot tears running down her face, she had managed to straddle Eve and ripped open the top of her shirt. Shoving Eve’s head back, Max began to slowly carve the letters of her full name into the woman’s collarbone.
It had been slow. Though she was raging, Max made sure to make every letter visible and not some rushed job. “M…A…X…I…N…E…I hope you never forget it, even when you take your last breath.”
When she had finished, and blood was running down and staining Eve’s clothes, Max climbed off of her. There had been no desire whatsoever to feed on this woman. All she had wanted for her now was a slow and agonizing death. And that’s what she intended as she tossed the box cutter back down; bits of Eve’s flesh and blood dripping from the blade onto the once sterile counter.
With the cd player still blasting the mixtape that had been made specifically for this occasion, Max shut it off and pulled out the cd, throwing it straight at Eve’s head, “Fuck this shit! It’s a real party now!!!” Putting her own mixtape cd in, she shut the lid and hit play, blasting the song she considered her theme, “I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE” by Måneskin.
Somewhere between the cute and softer side of Max and Eve’s commentary, the small bit of humanity that was barely hanging on had disappeared. As the music, turned up even louder now, blasted throughout the soundproofed basement, Max made her way through every nook and cranny pulling out every tool of torture she had, some even poorly washed from previous usage, planning to make this night last well into the next day.
—
The reaction was immediate and violent. Tools flew across the room: pliers, tweezers, contraptions Eve didn’t know the name for but she could immediately guess the usage of. A few hit her, cutting into her skin and clothing before clattering to the floor. Something fell into her lap, and she quickly twitched her legs open and shut to trap it underneath her. The blade of a scalpel cut into her, lighting a fire of hope that had almost dwindled to nothing in her chest. She didn’t let anything show on her face, just in case Max noticed her mistake. It was the best chance Eve had.
She kept her arm pinned down as the acetone bottle smacked into her face, with enough force to crunch her nose and send more hot blood spilling from her nose and mouth. The liquid spilling over her foot turned Eve’s vision white, as she thrashed like a corpse possessed. For the first time in thirteen years, a scream tore out of her lungs as she tried to shake the liquid off her wounds. When her lungs burned as much as her foot, Eve slumped forward, her muscles trembling, trying desperately to take back control of her treacherous body. But Max gave her no time to recover. She flinched away from Max’s irontight grip of her face, looking up at Max’s tear stained face with tears in her own eyes too. Loathing radiated off both of them in that split second of eye contact before Max shoved back her head and took her knife to Eve’s chest. “My concussion’s not that bad yet.”
Good, Eve thought viciously, blood bubbling out of her lips. At least now, if she was killed, it was for who she was, not for who knew her. Death stood a little closer now, breathing down her spine. Thirteen years was a good run. More than most hunter amputees ever got. She had done so much with that time, helped so many people. Making it to twenty nine wasn’t so bad. Someone would get her body, someone would know. Max’s weight shifted on her lap and the blade of the scalpel dug deeper into her, pinching her back into focus. She had a couple options left. She just needed Max to leave.
The CD smacked into her face, cutting a line into her forehead. Eve exhaled slowly, and dragged her eyes back to focus on Max. Max had all the control, and Eve had none of it. Max controlled the bindings, the blaring noise that added to the cacophony in Eve’s bind, the pain. Max controlled Eve’s own fucking body, and even her death. Everything, except one thing.
Eve looked over the tools being pulled out and collected, and thought she might throw up again. She dragged her face into the expression of a sneer. “Gonna take more than that to break me, bestie.”
—
This bitch was feisty. The mouth on her like razor blades cutting through Max’s own skin and had the vampire not been so hell bent on destroying this woman and Emilio Cortez, she possibly could’ve found respect in her strength. But not tonight. Not while every gear in Max’s body was being grinded. Her patience was being tested to the next level. And Max was going to need a minute or ten to recoup. To figure out how she wanted to keep this little party going without just snapping the woman’s neck here and now, “You’re really testing my fucking last nerve, you know that?”
Max looked at the sledge hammer laying on the floor every ounce of her longing to pick it up and swing it hard into Eve’s face. And though she could picture it perfectly in all the gritty detail, she decided against it. But she did need some quiet, and she knew that if she didn’t duct tape Eve’s mouth or at least knock the bitch out, there would be no peace. So without giving it a second thought, she let the music continue on playing while she grabbed a roll of Gorilla Tape, yanked off a decent sized piece and wrapped it tightly around the other woman’s head.
“Nighty-Night, you stupid bitch!” And with that, a swift punch to the cheek as hard as she could was what she had hoped had done the trick.
Her hands and arms were covered in blood. And as much as Max wanted to suck the sweet, crimson off of her fingers, she still had more work to do. Unfortunately though, what she needed was upstairs, “Potty break! Figured we could both use some down time while I go relieve myself and clean up a little bit! We’ve still got to play ‘Bloody Mary’. I think you’ll be so fitting for the occasion. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone, Bestie!” She gave Eve a hard slap on the back before heading upstairs to go grab some pillows from the guest bedroom to shove thumbtacks, gravel, and nails into for their pillowfight. It wasn’t a sleepover without a pillowfight!
As she unlocked the basement door with the key she had shoved in her pocket earlier, Max made sure to put it back in there snug and tight after locking it back when she made it back into the hallway upstairs. Losing that was not going to be her downfall tonight. She was almost having too much fun with her new bestie Eve, and she couldn’t wait until Emilio had heard about all the fun he had missed. Or well…seen, when she dumped Eve’s corpse on his doorstep. But that would be hours from now. The night was still young.
PARTIES: @hollow--sun, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: Directly after this thread.
LOCATION: Outside The Old Factory
SUMMARY: Max and Henri face off.
WARNINGS: Child Death tw (mention), Parental Death tw (mention), Substance Abuse tw, Alcohol tw
The feeling of confessing about her children to a stranger, albeit a dead stranger, made her chest feel like it was going to explode. Never had she felt so much anguish and emotional pain all at once. She had felt physical pain. She had felt the loss of her parents. She had felt regret. But this was worse than anything she had ever experienced, and she felt like a rabid dog locked in a cage with nowhere to go. There was nothing that felt like it could satiate this torture. Not even the stranger she had just consumed in a room full of people. There was no thrill or rush that could ever dampen this out. And the strongest bottle of alcohol hadn’t even given her a buzz. Max didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to feel or where to go. All at once, she had longed for a hug from her mother and father. Or even someone she had never met. The child within her longed to be comforted. Even the adult had wanted solace, but it was nowhere to be found, and instead, she found herself collapsed on the ground to her knees, with her face in her hands sobbing. A rare sight for someone so unhinged and unfeeling.
—
The cold hit him first when he stepped out of the masquerade. The Royal Navy coat he had decided to wear for the party did little against the late October chill.
If something told him he should have stayed inside and taken care of the threat that the masked man posed, his specialty had never been tricksters or any kind of magic, and with Wicked’s Rest being the name of the town, what were the odds of there being not a single spellcaster or warden in there? He knew so little about fae, but he still suspected that this was just that: fae bullshit.
The prickling on his skin was much more familiar, growing more obvious with each step he took on the pavement. In his boots, with his tricorn shadowing his face and his coat flaring behind him as the wind caught in it, Henri looked absurdly the part of who he had been pretending to be tonight : an officer on a patrol.
But when he saw her, he didn’t pause. She may not have been moving like a threat now, Henri had seen the look in her eyes before Circe took his hand and not hers, and then, he’d seen it again as she left the room. He told himself that he could still recognize a monster when he saw one. The sword slid free with a quiet scrape. Not a threat yet. Just readiness.
"Get up," he said finally, the words leaving his mouth steadier than he felt.For a moment, something flickered : pity, maybe, or recognition. He shoved that away.
Duty first. Emotion later.
—
Max had barely registered that someone was behind her, let alone it be the man that had taken Circe and the assumed fun she would have, away from her. Had the woman chose Maxine over him, someone laying dead in a corner may not have happened. But it had, and now, as she slowly pulled her hands from her face and turned her head, she laid eyes on the same masked figure from inside, “Are you fucking kidding me? C’mon man, you got the girl. The party’s over. I’m not out here to LARP or whatever it is you nerds do now.” Her emotions had quickly shut off in true Max (defense mechanism) fashion, and she was back to being a cold hard bitch.
Max didn’t like the idea of having her back to someone with a presumably fake sword pointed towards her, so she slowly got up from the ground dusting herself off and focusing her attention on the “officer”, “You can put your little sword away too, Casanova. What happened? Did the pretty lady inside leave you already? No anonymous piece of ass for Mr. Prince Charming?” She rolled her eyes.
—
Well, Henri hadn't seen that one coming. She was still bitter about the waltz? Another one for the bingo board of non sense. “In this case, I think you really need to start praying that it is, indeed LARP,” but Henri stood too much like a cat on the watch to be playing a role. The grip on the handle was supple and firm at once as he held the blade higher.
The mask dropping was the first sensible thing he had seen her do tonight. There was a time for pretending (he would know) and there was a time for honesty. Maybe, one day, it would be his turn, but tonight had not been it, not even with the Masked Figure’s best attempt at forcing truth out of the slayer.
Still, he didn't like how his mind had gone first to something necessary. Something that needed being done. Something he knew no one was capable of understanding. It’s murder people would cry, and yet they’d demand that he slain the beastly neighbor, the undead priest, the monster that crept in the dark. The hypocrisy could have made him sick once. He was too used to it now.
“Someone has to make sure people like her don't run accidentally into people like you,” he retorted. “I know what you are and if it hadn't been for that stupid mask, I would have stopped you sooner,” his gaze darted swiftly to the red smudged on her sleeve, a feat, given the moon had not reached her peak just yet. “You killed them.” He stated.
—
Max hissed at the word praying. Nothing around here could ever be that simple could it? A night of what was supposed to be a distraction from her own personal hell was, yet, again turning into a fucking task of survival. Who was this man, and why did he think he had a right to butt into her business? “Do you always go around sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong?” She growled as she let her eyes shift into something crimson and her fangs jut out. It took two to tango, and this had been a Masquerade Ball after all.
“Oh boo hoo! Gotta be Mr. White Night coming to save the fucking day! Well Hero Boy, this ain’t a fucking fairytale. It’s life, and sometimes life gets messy and people that don’t deserve to die…well they croak, and you can’t do anything about it.” She, of course, had been referring to Tony. In such a harsh manner, yes, but her heart had been ripped apart and was barely staying together, “Now, may I have this dance or not?” She was ready to fight him and ready to taste his blood, no matter how rotten it probably was, especially if he had been a slayer, which she was starting to suspect.
—
Well wasn't she a negative Nancy. And now he could hear his father talk. Absolutely revolting.
The slayer raised an eyebrow as a response, staring blankly at her as he waited for the woman to come up with a more creative insult. Because calling him curious was not going to cut it. He had heard stronger words from Estella, and she notoriously detested negativity.
“Seems like you’re the one who thought this would be a fairy tale,” because yeah, people died whether or not they deserved it. He had learned that much when he was 3 years old. Because his parents had to let their child know that one day they might not come home.
They may have tried to spare him from some brand of educational hunter violence, there were constants you could never run away from. Death was the most powerful of them.
“Thought you’d never ask,” and because this was no fairy tale, Henri struck first, pivoting to have the blade slash the air in a tight arc, clearly going straight for her neck.
—
Fairytale her ass. She had just wanted a night out on the town. Some fun. Some distraction. It had come the night before with Benson Boo, so why couldn’t it have happened again tonight. But suddenly, out of nowhere, the man sent a different kind of excitement her way. One that had Max dodging an apparently real blade that was coming down straight for her neck.
Hitting the ground just in the knick of time, the vampire hissed, “Who carries a real fucking sword to a costume party?!” Scampering backwards, Max managed to get up, but also grabbed a large piece of broken concrete in the process chucking it towards the man’s head. She had no weapons, especially not a sword, but she had been around a long time and was clever when she needed to be, especially as she accidentally kicked a metal rod getting back to her feet.
Taking the spare few seconds throwing the rock had earned her, Max picked up the rod just long enough to go to battle with, as a countermeasure to the slayer’s sword, “En garde, you piece of shit!”
—
Henri had expected the dodge because she moved like someone who knew what it took to survive. The blade whistled through empty air, catching only the ends of her hair as she hit the ground. Irritation sparked at the back of his jaw. He did not miss.
The piece of concrete came faster than he anticipated and Henri twisted, but not fast enough to avoid it entirely; the heavy block clipped his shoulder hard enough to jolt him a step sideways. Pain radiated down to his elbow. His grip didn’t falter, though and he reset his stance like nothing had happened, his jaw clenched in an attempt to bite down the pain.
“Who brings fangs to a party?” he spat back sharply, leveling the sword again. “Don’t act like you’re the victim here.”
She snatched up the metal rod, brandishing it like a duelist who had absolutely no training and absolutely no fear. He was not stupid enough to believe this made her harmless. Quite the contrary. Reckless and fearless were very different concepts. Henri rolled his wrist, relaxing the tension in his forearm, blade angled low in a guard that displayed both formal training and far too many fights. Her insult was frankly uninspired. But the way she said piece of shit… well, that part Henri took personally.
“Oh, good,” Henri said, stepping in, closing the distance with predator efficiency rather than theatrical bravado. “You’re done whining.”
The sword came in again : this time not a killing arc, but a wicked, precise blow meant to knock her makeshift weapon aside. A test, as he wanted to see how she moved when she wasn’t scrambling.
—
Max felt the sword come down hard onto the piece of metal she was holding, sending a jolt up her arm. Was she actually in a sword fight right now? Had an elegant evening become that of a swash buckling pirate adventure? All they needed to be was on a cliff near the water’s edge for this to be even better. But alas, they were on the outskirts of town outside of a warehouse, and any bystander filming this probably would’ve been laughing their ass off.
As she felt the makeshift sword bounce around in her hand, Max tried to tighten her grip on it, but the vibrations had won over sending the metal rod to the ground, “Well fuck.” Her eyes darting back up, she kept them trained on the man and his movements. She would have to be stealthy if she wanted to survive this. But she could see he was favoring the shoulder she had struck with the concrete, and if she could just take another successful blow at that, Max felt she would be able to make her grand escape. But how?
—
Disarmed and out of things to throw at him, Henri wondered how this piece of filth planned to slip away now. The vampire hunter advanced in a slow, predatory prowl, each step silent, deliberate, like a cat ready to strike.
"Oh, that's so cool!"
Henri froze mid-step, eyes locked on his target. The voice, bright, enthusiastic, and unmistakably drunk rang out again. "Are you pirates? Oh, that’s great. Hey, Robert, get your arse over here!"
The slurred call travelled across the alley, and the slayer shot the vampire a look of pure, vengeful disgust. Surely she understood by now that he was going to leave her be. What other choice did he have? They both knew noise meant attention. Attention meant witnesses. Witnesses meant complications neither of them wanted.
Henri pinched the bridge of his nose. "For the love of—"
The drunk in the wizard hat wobbled closer. "Do it again! You know,” the man attempted to mime a sword cutting through the air and nearly stumbled to the ground "the schwssh thing."
Henri inhaled slowly through his teeth. The night had already gone to hell; now it was doing a victory lap. “You enjoy your evening,” he finally spat, pulling up the lapel of his coat as he stepped away into the shadowed alley.
Meta: How would you describe your character's moral alignment?
Max is ruthless. There's only been a handful of people in her life that she's ever truly cared about. Everyone else is nothing, but a means to an end for her; a rung on a ladder to step on to get further to the top, and she'll do anything to get it. I would ultimately say Maxine Diaz is Chaotic Evil.
PARTIES: @incatsclothing, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: Mid November
LOCATION: Max's House
SUMMARY: Rory and her friend end up in Max's basement as their final escape room.
WARNINGS: Child Death tw, Sibling Death tw, Head Trauma tw, Torture tw
Max hated this town. She hated the people that lived here. She hated all the cutesy little festivals and events they constantly held for every fucking season. It was all one continuous headache, that she felt she never really gained any traction on until one day, people just randomly started showing up in her basement. It was like the universe had heard her cries of anguish and had given her a gift. In fact, multiple gifts, and she didn’t know how or why, but she would gladly accept them. And when she questioned them, their answers had all been the same…the Howling Harvest Escape Room.
Apparently, her basement had been one of the final rooms. One they had to escape from if they wanted to win the game, but none of them ever won, because they never could figure out that only few had ever escaped. And after the Guillermo fiasco, she had made sure that the door leading upstairs was deadbolted and the small window in the basement was barred. So for as long as the Howling Harvest went on, Maxine had made sure to be prepared for random visitors at all hours of the day, which made feeding a vampire’s paradise.
“Norman, you think we’ll have any visitors tonight?” The dog barked happily as Max settled into the couch ready for another thrilling episode of Dateline, despite how many times she had probably seen it already. “I’ve been brushing up on my Saw movies, and I think I might have just the thing for our next guest or two.” A demented smile spread across her lips; but deep inside there had been something darker brewing. Something she was trying to avoid with every fiber of her being, and something that was a lot scarier than some escape room…grief.
—
It had taken a good deal of convincing to get Brigit to join her at the Howling Harvest Escape Room event. Rory wasn’t sure her newest coworker really liked her very much — she was a little hard to read, and Daredevil made the whole ‘listening to someone’s heartbeat to tell if they were lying or not’ thing seem way easier than it was in reality — but she was the only one around when Rory’s shift let out, and that meant she was the obvious target for the adventure. And after an impressive combination of puppy eyes and bribery (she’d be taking Brigit’s Saturday morning shift as payment for this outing), Rory finally managed to get a companion for the event. And not a moment too soon, it seemed — they were the last pair allowed into the escape rooms for the night, something that sent an additional thrill through Rory. The only thing more fun than getting to do something was knowing that other people wouldn’t get the same shot.
The first room they’d been put in was easy. Rory had solved most of the puzzles while Brigit pretended to help, but that was all right. The only reason she’d even wanted someone else along was because they didn’t let people go in without a group and she hadn’t wanted to be tacked on to some group of people who all already knew one another. If Brigit wanted to spend the event looking at her phone and pretending to be interested, she could do that. Rory didn’t mind pulling all the weight.
Except… the last room was tricky. The design was a little basic — torture dungeons were so overdone in the escape room industry — but Rory couldn’t quite figure out what the puzzle was. And Brigit had apparently lost cell service, which put her in a shitty mood. She was sitting against the wall with a sour look on her face, which wasn’t doing much for Rory’s own sour mood. “Hey, why don’t you look under that cabinet?” Rory questioned, nodding to a cabinet on the far side of the room. “Maybe there’s a key or something.”
Brigit groaned. “This is stupid,” she announced, standing up. She marched up the stairs to the door, pounding a fist against it. “Hey! We give up!”
“What? No we don’t,” Rory fumed, shooting Brigit a glare. “Come on. I’m not going to take your shift if you ruin my sweep.”
—
The episode was just starting to pick up, when all of a sudden Max was startled by pounding on the basement door. Even Norman had seemed to jump, but soon started growling and barking, “Well, well, well…Looks like Maxie just got some new playthings delivered. Don’t worry, Boy. I promise to save you a nice juicy leg or two tonight, since it looks like you’ll be hanging out alone.”
With a firm kiss to the top of his furry head, Max climbed off the couch and headed to the bedroom to change into her “cuttin’ people up” clothes, before throwing on a fresh, pristine lab coat, since the last one had gotten soaked in blood from two nights ago. And with that, she was ready for some fun!
Making her way to the basement door, she waited until the banging stopped, and when it finally did, Max cautiously opened it to find a girl standing there impatient, phone gripped tightly in her hand, “Don’t you kids have any respect these days?” And with that, she shoved Brigit down the stairs watching her roll and topple, her neck cracking along the way, until she lay motionless on the floor, “Well fuck. That didn’t go as planned. I was at least hoping to get more play time out of her. Eh.” She shrugged, “Makes for an easy meal though.”
Pulling the door closed behind her, she made sure to lock it back, shoving the key in her pocket, “Okay, I know you all usually like to come in pairs or groups of three or whatever it is, so if someone else is down here, I’d suggest making it easy on yourself and sitting down in that nice, comfy little chair that’s near the center of the room. Otherwise, we can do it the hard way. Your choice.” Max wasn’t sure if she was going to be greeted by a group or just one other person, but they had been coming in droves, and it had made for a bloody good time.
—
There was a dog barking somewhere outside the door. Rory could hear it. It was faint and muffled, the door heavy enough to block the sound well enough that she doubted Brigit knew anything about it at all, but Rory’s keen ears picked up on it right away. And that was… kind of weird, wasn’t it? The only dogs allowed in escape rooms ought to be service dogs, and they didn’t tend to bark unless something was wrong. Which… might explain why nobody was answering the door, Rory guessed. If something was happening outside of their escape room, maybe no one was available to come by and let them out.
Good, she thought, a little bitterly. She didn’t want to be let out of the escape room without winning the game, no matter how impatient Brigit might be. Rory was in this to fucking win it, not to take the easy way out. She’d never failed an escape room before, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
Brigit, for her part, seemed frustrated. “Ugh, come on!” She groaned, holding her phone up to try to get a better signal. “This is…” She trailed off as the lock in the door clicked. “Fucking finally.” The door opened, and Rory groaned. She wondered if she could convince the employee to let Brigit out and let her stay instead. Except… the person who opened the door wasn’t the bored teenager who’d let them into their first room. It was a woman in a lab coat. Was this part of the game?
Before Brigit could inevitably berate the employee, the woman’s hands shot out and Brigit tumbled down the stairs. With Rory’s enhanced hearing, there was no missing the crack of the other girl’s neck as she fell. There was no missing the stillness with which she landed, either, or the emptiness in her eyes. Rory’s heart jumped to her throat.
She’d seen dead bodies before, even outside of caskets. There had been a moment in the woods months ago, when she and Vic stumbled upon a scene of blood and gore that hadn’t made much sense. This didn’t make much sense, either. Brigit was fine one moment, motionless the next. Rory ran to her side, hands hovering uncertainly over her body, but she knew there was nothing she could do. There was no heartbeat; the only heart still racing in this room was her own.
Which was weird, because the woman in the lab coat was still here.
Rory got to her feet, turning towards the voice. She didn’t seem particularly bothered by Brigit’s unmoving form; this was starting to feel less and less like a game. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Anger colored Rory’s tone, making it sharp and hot. She’d rather focus on that than the complicated feelings underneath it.
—
When she finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Max was greeted by anger and a very pronounced ‘fuck’ being spat her way. Needless to say, she relished in it. She loved it when people were angry. It made her playtime a lot more enjoyable. The ones who were blubbering, pleading fools were always so boring. Sure, when she first got into the game of slaughtering people, it was fun and gave her a bit of a complex to start, but soon it just got old and annoying. At least this one would be feisty. But she had to make sure not to be feisty enough to escape. She definitely couldn’t have that happen again.
“Oooooo someone’s touchy. Did I strike a nerve?” Max rounded the corner to find the girl standing there fuming. Look, aren’t you glad it’s her that went first? I mean this is an escape room right? Can’t really escape if your neck’s broken, and you’re laying in a heap on the floor, now can you?” She raised her eyebrows and shrugged, “I’m just saying. But I’m also sensing that you don’t want to play nice and sit in the chair like I asked, so…Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”
The smile that was once on her face, turned sinister. Now is where the real fun began. Cat and mouse. And this time, Max was the cat. No escaping. No fooling the century old vampire. Just a dart around the room, before she shoved the girl into the chair and made her last night on Earth a memorable one.
—
It was hard to know how to feel about this, really. Rory hadn’t even liked Brigit very much. She’d been a little annoying to work with, always blasting some pop song on her phone while she cleaned with little regard for whoever she was sharing the space with, and she tended to half ass closing in a way that always sucked when you were the one who had to open the following shift. But that wasn’t to say Rory wanted her dead. Brigit was a little annoying, maybe, but never in a sinister way. She’d laughed at Rory’s jokes, sometimes. She’d talked about her dog and her little brother who was always trying to bum cash from her. She’d been studying marketing, and she always came in with ideas on how to make the sign outside the shop pop. She wasn’t always nice, but she wasn’t really mean, either.
She hadn’t deserved to die. She hadn’t deserved to be thrown down the steps in a strange basement, hadn’t deserved to have her neck snapped before she even knew what was going on at all. She didn’t deserve for the person who’d killed her to speak so nonchalantly about it, as if it didn’t matter at all. Brigit was annoying, and decent, and dead, and she deserved so much fucking better.
But Rory couldn’t give her that. Rory couldn’t will her back to life by reciting the unfairness of the world around them, couldn’t mend her broken neck with her rage. There was nothing more to be done for Brigit, wherever she was now. Rory knew that.
She was angry, anyway. And maybe she shouldn’t have been. Maybe she should have been afraid instead, because this woman — who had just killed Brigit and thought nothing of it, who was approaching Rory with a sinister look — was approaching her now. Her mouth was moving, though the rush of blood in Rory’s ears was too loud to make out the words. It didn’t matter, anyway. There wasn’t much she could say that would make Rory less pissed off.
Rory found herself shoved into a chair, paralyzed by her anger for just long enough for her body to be manipulated. She wouldn’t let it stay that way. Lifting her legs, she kicked out viciously towards the woman, anger burning in her eyes. No way in hell was she playing whatever game this woman had planned out. She’d rather bash this lady’s skull in instead.
—
The way this kid thrashed and kicked both excited and angered Max all at the same time, but she had to tell herself that patience was a virtue, because once the little brat was secured in the chair with nowhere to go, she knew all feistiness would disappear, and she’d eventually be begging to live. Most of the younger ones that had come through did. It was the older ones she liked. Not the saggy ones that were already knocking on death’s door begging to be taken, but the ones who had a little life experience under their belt and tried to use logic, instead of rage, to survive. It was an escape room after all.
“Are you gonna be like this all night? Kicking and pouting? Would it help if I turned on some music? Maybe…hmmm…Chappell Roan or Bad Bunny?” It’s not that Max really listened to either, partly because that stupid “Pink Pony Club”...Fuck, there it was. Always got stuck in her head, like it was now. Maybe she’d just annoyingly sing the one part she knew over and over and over again, until this girl’s ears bled. Could make for an interesting evening as long as she didn’t want to rip her own ears off before the night was over.
Finally latching onto one leg, she shoved it as hard as she could against the chair trying to strap it down, “I swear if you don’t stop fucking kicking me, I’m going to Kathy Bates your knees so hard you’ll look like a fucking bird when you walk.” Max continued to force it down, until she finally got another idea, “Fuck it.” Exposing her fangs, she raised the girl’s leg up and latched onto her achilles tendon and chomped down on it. The Misery inspired knock to the knees could come later.
—
“No, I’ll be in a better mood after I bash your head into the ground,” Rory growled back, rage still burning like a fire in her chest. The woman’s phrasing and tone made her feel uncomfortably infantilized, that feeling mixing together with the anger that rose from seeing Brigit’s corpse tossed to the side as if it was nothing at all. Violence was not something Rory had shied away from in her life, though she often regretted it when it was over. She remembered punching a girl in seventh grade for yanking her headphones from her ears, remembered fuming all the way to the principal’s office but feeling guilty when she’d seen the girl seated outside the nurse’s door with bloodied tissues hanging from her nostrils. When she was fourteen, she’d kicked her brother’s head against the window of the school bus until someone pulled her back by her arms, cursing and snapping like a wild thing, and the sound of his skull impacting the tempered glass had seen her sitting outside his bedroom door the entire night after, wanting to apologize but not knowing how.
She did not think she would regret it if she broke this woman’s nose. She did not think any part of her would ache to apologize if she kicked her head against glass until one or the other shattered into a thousand pieces. Not with Brigit growing cold in the corner of her vision, her dog waiting for her to come home in an apartment somewhere and her brother probably texting to borrow cash without knowing that the message would never be answered. “Wow. You’re a fucking psycho and you listen to shitty pop music? Pick a fucking struggle.” The woman was trying to scare her, and maybe it should have been working. Rory had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation, and she’d certainly never been in a situation like this before. The most danger she’d seen in this town had come from things that seemed so silly in retrospect — a banana that made her body move outside of her control, cartoon animals come to life in a supermarket. She could look back at them now and laugh, could separate herself from the fear she’d felt in the moment by how ridiculous it all seemed now. But there was nothing ridiculous about this. Brigit was dead, and Rory hadn’t even liked her but the thought ached all the same.
Despite her struggles, her leg was shoved back against the chair. This wasn’t quite enough to quell Rory’s fighting spirit, though; despite the woman’s threats and references to movies that Rory used to like (she might not, when this was over), the younger woman kicked with all she had. The woman holding her down was strong, but Rory was desperate. And sometimes, that desperation could give you the upper hand.
Sometimes, it got teeth in your leg instead, though.
Rory let out a scream, both pained and outraged. Her leg jerked in the woman’s grip, the movement not entirely conscious. “What the fuck?” She tried desperately to wrench herself from the woman’s grip, trying to focus on her rage instead of her fear. Only one would get her out of this mess.
—
Max was amused by this kid’s anger. In fact, she fed off of it, and after she had secured one leg, she went to secure the other wondering if it would be as much of a fight this time. “Hmmm, you bashing my head in. You think that’s a new one? I’ve heard that longer than you’ve probably been alive. Besides, I’m too fucking hot to kill. Good luck. But! It does give me ideas for how you might spend your last night. How does that sound?” She continued to push down on the girl’s other leg, “You know, you’ve got a spirit that I like about you. Too bad I couldn’t mentor you in the art of murder. But, if you got out, you’d just tell all my secrets, and I really can’t have that.”
“Hold on. Try to escape, and I’ll gut you like a fish, before I take my trusty old sledge hammer to that pretty little noggin of yours.” Max walked over to her cd player and pulled out a case full of different mixes, until she found one with screamo music on it. At least her latest victim could scream along to it, when Max finally got to start. And once the cd was in, she turned the volume up blasting “Blow” by Atreyu. “Ah, music to my ears.”
—
It wasn’t as if Rory was a stranger to pain. Three nights out of the month, every bone in her body broke itself down and reformed itself into another shape, then moved backwards in the morning. But the pain of a shift was a familiar thing, the sort of thing she could easily anticipate — and the sort that came with the welcome reward of knowing that Penelope was still there, even in the moments where Rory couldn’t quite feel her. There was no promise of a reward at this woman’s teeth in her leg, no satisfaction that came from the god awful ache she felt. Her eyes found Brigit’s corpse across the room. There was no satisfaction in that, either.
“How’s that old saying go? Two can keep a secret if one of them’s dead? It’ll be easy to keep your secret after I tear your fucking head off,” she snapped, jerking her leg up in an attempt to deliver a swift kick to the woman’s face. With the grip the stranger had on her leg, it didn’t do her much good. She was secured to the chair, and the woman turned on music that Rory might have actually liked in any other situation. In this one, it was jarring and unsettling and she hated that. She thrashed in the chair, ignoring the way it shot pain through her leg where the woman’s teeth had been. She was afraid; she was angry. She clung to the latter and pushed the former to the side. Fear wouldn’t do her much good here, but anger might.
—
“I’ve always loved that saying. Of course, it’s usually the other person keeping the secret.” Turning around, she saw Rory thrashing and trying to escape, “Easy, Girl! You’re gonna hurt yourself. I mean, not that I mind. If you want to, go right ahead. Makes it less fun for me, but whatever. I’m missing Dateline for this anyways.” Turning back to the counter, she looked over all her tools until she laid eyes on one she hadn’t used in quite a while; her trusty old torch. “Say Kid, how do you like fire?” With the cylinder shaped tube in her hand with a spout coming off the top, Max switched it on and grabbed a lighter. She had everything down here strictly for the purpose of making life hell on Earth for other people.
“Let’s play with fire. Shall we?” Her focus back on Rory, Max struck the lighter with her thumb and ignited the torch; a bright blue flame with a bit of orange coming out of the end. “Nothing like a little barbecue for dinner.” Tossing the lighter back on the counter behind her, she moved over towards her latest victim, “So where should we start? That pretty head of hair? Burning hair is kind of gross, but it’d be fun to give you a new hairstyle! Ooooooo!!! Or! OR!!! How about that leg you just tried to kick me with?!” Max leaned forward, but made sure to stay far enough away not to get kicked, before she stuck the hot, blue flame close enough to Rory’s leg that it caused the skin to burn, “Norman Bates is eatin’ good tonight, Baby!”
—
It felt like something out of a horror movie, the kind Rory would have made fun of for being a little too cliche. The dark basement, the torture chair, the uncaring villain with her tools all laid out and ready to go. Had Rory seen this scene on a movie screen, she would have laughed at it. They could at least try to make it realistic, she’d have scoffed, because the idea that there were people out there who would hurt a stranger just for the fun of it had always seemed a little far-fetched for her. Maybe she’d been sheltered, growing up the way she had. Her mother had been a little distant, but she’d never doubted that she was loved and cared for, and she’d been kept away from so much of the darkness that made up the world at large. It all seemed to be slamming into her at once now, as if it felt the need to make up for lost time. The woman was flippant, was making stupid jokes, was picking up a torch. Rory eyed the tool warily. It didn’t take a genius to know what she planned to do with it.
“Fuck you!” It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, but it was the sort of thing that seemed to bear repeating. If she was brave enough, would it hurt less? If she pretended her heart wasn’t pounding, if she focused on her anger instead of her fear, would it somehow stop the flame from touching her?
The answer came quickly, in the form of a searing hot pain on her leg. The smell of burning flesh mingled with the agonizing burn, coming together to form a nauseating cocktail. Rory let out a scream that was half fury, half pain, thrashing in her binds a little more. It wasn’t even intentional, the way the thrashing saw the flame touching the bindings on her leg; Rory herself didn’t notice it yet. “What’s your stupid cliche?” She spat, telling herself the sting of tears behind her eyes was because she was angry and nothing more. “Huh? Your mom didn’t hug you enough? High school boyfriend dumped you for a cheerleader? You’re fucking pathetic!” She punctuated the tirade with another kick, her leg breaking through the burned binding with the force of it and colliding with the woman’s arm.
—
Max was taking pleasure in watching the girl’s skin burn. It was like art the way the flesh seemed to change colors from pink to red and eventually so dark that it was turning black. That was some real damage right there. But what she hadn’t noticed in all of her excitement was that the leather bindings she had worked so hard to get Rory’s leg into had burned to the point that the young woman was able to break free and send the torch flying out of Max’s hand careening to the air, before it collided with the ground inching ever so close to a bottle of nitrogen she had managed to get her hands on years ago.
“Motherfucker!!! You little fucking brat!!!” If Max didn’t take care of the runaway torch, they were both gonna go up in flames, and Maxine, despite the guilt and anguish she had felt over Tony and Delores, was still too proud of herself to go out by an accidental explosion.
With reluctance, the vampire dove for the torch landing just close enough to stop it, but burning her hand in the process. As a hiss of pain escaped her lips, she managed to shut off the flame, but in doing so had left the perfect opening for her prisoner to possibly escape. But first she had to get the key. A key that Max immediately reached for when she had gathered her bearings, only to find it wasn’t in her pocket.
—
The woman dove for the torch, and Rory took her chance to thrash against her bindings. With one leg free, she could properly brace herself against the chair and kick at the other leg, ignoring the sharp pain of the bite and the sinister burn from the torch. In a moment, her other leg was free, too; she used both limbs to get enough leverage to yank at her arms. Something popped, pain shooting through her shoulder and down to her fingers; another pop, and her wrist was on fire. But the two sources of white hot pain allowed her the advantage of new angles, and she was able to twist one hand free of its binding and undo the other in quick succession.
The girl wasted no time in shooting out of the chair, sharp ears having heard the quiet ping of the key hitting the ground the moment it fell from the woman’s pocket. Grabbing it was easy; escape would be harder. There was a murderer between Rory and the door she needed to reach, and though adrenaline was assisting her to a certain extent, it was impossible to ignore the pain of her injuries entirely.
(She couldn’t let herself look at Brigit, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. She knew, with little room for doubt in her mind, that she would have to leave the other girl’s body behind if she wanted to escape. The thought ached somewhere deep in her chest, nauseating and uncomfortable like something stuck in the back of her throat. But what more could she do for Brigit now? She was dead, and Rory was alive. That was the kind of thing that could only be changed in one direction, and Rory would rather not do that.)
—
Max’s eyes immediately shifted to the girl when she realized she had the key. Eyes now red and fangs bared again, she was going to rip this person apart, “You’re gonna wish you’d never been born.”
With a growl, she scrambled to her feet going towards her hostage. She would fight tooth and nail to make sure that she didn’t have another one escape. And knowing that the girl was injured was a bonus. It would make this so much easier. But now was no time for pizazz. No time to make things extra, when they just needed to be straight forward. Once she caught her, she could sink her fangs in and drain the other person until they were barely breathing. Then could come fun, but at this point, Max had been so annoyed that killing her outright just sounded so much better. To be done with it, and hope no one else appeared in her basement tonight. She was tired, and this definitely had all gone to shit.
—
The woman’s eyes were red and her teeth were sharp, and Rory thought of the stories her brothers used to tell her to try to scare her as a child. There’s a monster under the bed, they’d say, and it’s going to come out while you’re sleeping and swallow you whole. Rory thought it was stupid, even as a kid. But Celeste, her sister just a year and a half older than her who she’d shared a room with well into her teenage years, had been nervous about it. I don’t want to see any monsters, Rory, she’d shuddered, making Rory sleep in her bed that night for her own ‘protection.’ Rory remembered laughing, remembered burrowing beneath the comforter. Monsters aren’t real, she’d said, and she’d been so sure of it.
But here was a monster now, with red eyes and sharp teeth. She was coming towards her, was making threats, and someone was already dead. Rory spun back, picking up a hammer from the table of torturous instruments the woman had browsed before and swinging it with all the strength she had. It collided hard with the monster’s head, and she fell to the ground. Rory wasted no time. Ignoring the pain shooting through the burn in one leg and the bloody teethmarks in the other, she shot up the stairs key in hand, murmuring an apology as she stepped over Brigit’s corpse.
—
Max had almost caught her victim. Had almost sunk her fingernails into already tender skin, but before she could. Before she could make her move she briefly watched as a hammer came slamming into the side of her head causing everything to go black. Everything to disappear, while she smacked the floor hard and fast.
Mommy. Mommy wake up! Mommy! The words were sharp and almost unfamiliar. Until she realized who the voice was coming from. But when Maxine’s eyes shot open, there was nothing but an empty basement with Atreyu blasting out of the speakers causing her to hiss in pain from the loud music.
When Max finally remembered what had happened, before everything went dark, her eyes shot up the stairs to the door that was wide open. The little bitch that had been in her basement had fled and there was nothing left, but the body of the other girl that Max was going to have to dispose of. And as she moved her feet, the ringing in her ears almost sent her back down again while a fit of dizziness caused her to stumble into the counter nearby, giving her the opportunity to shut off the music.
She was in a daze, and no amount of fear or frustration could entice her to clean up the mess she had made. At least not tonight.
Slowly crawling up the stairs, she slammed the door with her foot and used what strength she had to lock it, before crawling over to the couch and collapsing into it, where she remained until she could function again and figure out what to do about the previous night’s shit show.
PARTIES: @enthrallinglyeden, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: Weekend of the Masquerade Ball
LOCATION: The Old Factory
SUMMARY: Benson Boo (Eden) meets Rosemary (Max), and the two have a surprisingly soft evening at the Masquerade Ball.
WARNINGS: Child Death tw (mention), Substance Abuse tw (Alcohol tw), WR Spice (little bit of spice)
The masquerade ball was shaping up to be the best event that Eden had attended since moving to town, yet tension still squeezed his chest and he couldn’t quite shake it. The ball reminded him of the galas he’d attended back at home, and a part of him loathed that. Of course, it was nowhere near as luxurious, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare an event funded by the richest elites in China to one thrown by a small city in Maine. The similarities remained nonetheless — the feeling of music vibrating through the floor while partygoers in extravagant outfits danced reminding him of being 18 again.
Back when he was 18, when his distaste for his mother and the celebrity life was starting to fester yet hadn’t bloomed into full-blown hatred just yet. Back when things weren’t exactly simpler, but Eden still had the chaos of a big city to make him feel at home and the attention of many to make him feel needed. As settled as he was in his new life, he still caught himself missing the home that caused him so much hurt, and he hated that.
He needed a distraction. Eden gulped down the shot of vodka before the bartender could even walk away. He closed his eyes as it burned his throat, paying no attention to the person who had just slid beside him at the bar.
—
Distractions were all Maxine had longed for since the discovery of her son’s passing. Had it been discovered possibly a year or two down the road, the hurt might not have been as prominent, but knowing that he was gone just two days before she had decided to go leave presents for the twins on their birthday, had only reassured Max just how truly worthless she had been as their mother. So what better way than to take away her pain. Sex. Alcohol. And maybe a little murder.
With a name given to her for the night; ironically enough Rosemary, which had easily left a sour taste in her mouth, Max wasn’t in the mood for arguing. She just wanted to be inside, downing her sorrows in heavy amounts of alcohol and mingling with strangers looking to make bad choices, “Give me the strongest thing you’ve got. And make it a double.” As her eyes shifted over to the person next to her, she watched as they downed the shot they had just received, “And another for my new friend here.”
Having someone to talk to allowed Max to start to relax a little more, “I’m…” Remembering the rules mentioned to her at the front, she paused before choking out the name she was given, “Rosemary.” And I’m the biggest bitch on the planet with a cat called Nubs.
—
It seemed his new neighbour was in the same mood as him, but then again, so did most people approaching the bar. He hadn’t expected her to order him something, a means of acknowledging his presence and establishing that she came in peace all in one simple action. Eden made what eye contact he could from behind the mask, tipping his head in a polite nod and downing the shot as quickly as he had the first.
“Rosemary,” he repeated once the bitterness from the alcohol subsided. A familiar name, but it had to have been a coincidence over anything. “I’m…” Eden trailed off, his own fake name on the tip of his tongue. An absolutely idiotic one compared to the others he’d heard so far. Surely the mystery name keeper at the door had been pranking him, but he’d also seen firsthand how not using the assigned moniker would get you thrown out.
“I’m Benson. Boo. Benson Boo,” he finally said. Grimacing at first, he couldn’t help but eventually laugh at the absurdity of it all. “I know this is Halloween-themed and all, but really? That’s what they came up with?” Eden leaned back on the bar as he laughed, scanning over the incredibly crowded dance floor. “Say, I was thinking about exploring this party a bit. Care to join me?”
—
He had taken the bait. Max loved when they took the bait. Just like Jenny had months ago at Dance Macabre, and that little tryst was still going strong, or so she thought. But tonight was apparently going to be about…Benson Boo? Max wanted to laugh. She wanted to spit out her own drink from laughing so hard, but she refrained. The name keeper was coming up with some zingers tonight, “Ahem…Benson…Boo. It’s nice to meet…you.” She hated that it rhymed, but a cheesy rhyme called for another shot for them both.
“Yeah, I’m not too fond of the name Rosemary, myself. For my own personal reasons. At least Benson Boo is fun. Mine just sounds like a bitch from Hell.” If only the real Rosemary had been lingering close by somewhere, “I would love to join you. After our other…” Just about the time she was going to say ‘shots’ they had appeared. “Ta-da! Did I mention I have tricks?” Taking the glass, she threw it back, before putting it back on the counter and waiting patiently for her new friend to take her by the hand.
—
Hearing his fake name come from someone else’s mouth just made it sound even more ridiculous, but at least his companion didn’t seem too fond of her own assigned identity either. This person seemed to have a history with Rosemary, and Eden wondered if they were thinking about the same person. It was of little relevance to him though, and he forced his attention back to the fake Rosemary. Watching as she downed her shot with a flourish, he smiled and gently took her by the hand.
Other couples shuffled around them hand-in-hand, their nervous giggles echoing as they made their way down shadowy halls. Eden had a pretty good idea of what they were going to get up to behind closed doors, but that wasn’t the type of entertainment he was seeking. At least, not right now. The faint orange glow coming from one of the rooms had caught his attention, and he and his partner walked through the doorway to the sound of metal clanking. “Odd thing to have at a party, but interesting nonetheless,” he remarked to Rosemary, entranced by the bright sparks flying when the metals connected.
The warmth of the earlier shots only seemed to amplify how hot it was getting in the room, and Eden instinctively unbuttoned a third of his shirt with his free hand until the opening reached his chest. “Is there anything here that interests you?” He said as he glanced over at Rosemary, gesturing over to the table off metal knickknacks that seemed to be for sale.
—
Max was willing to let loose for the night. Let Benson Boo do what he wanted. Drag her under some dingy stairs for a romp. Dance until it felt like they couldn’t dance anymore. Anything. So it had been one of those rare moments in her lifetime, where she didn’t actually care if she were in control of their plans. If things got dangerous, Max could easily defend herself. But this guy seemed like one of those pudgy little puppies that had just waddled over from its mother checking out the world with fresh new eyes. While “Rosemary” wanted nothing more than to numb out the pain of everything that had happened within the past month.
As they broke the threshold of one of the rooms, Max let her eyes roam the metal pieces of art that lined the table. Letting go of his hand, she moved forward and observed each one carefully. They held such beauty in a sharp and dangerous way, much like she had considered herself. But the one that caught her eye was a black rose with the edges of the petals so sharp they could kill a man, if one wasn’t careful, “This one. There’s just something so…deadly, but beautiful about it.”
Max picked the art up off the table and observed its beauty, “How much is it?” She looked to the person behind the table waiting for a price. No matter the cost, she was going to buy it. It would be perfect for her home and a nice reminder of the mysterious man who was actually treating her to a good time so far.
—
His partner busied herself with the art as Eden continued to watch the metalsmith. Like a moth to a flame, he was drawn to the light, even with the risk of sparks landing on one of his more expensive shirts. There was something so mesmerising about seeing beauty created from plain scraps of metal. His companion seemed to agree, and he watched as Rosemary picked one of the pieces off of the table. “Wow. That one is beautiful,” he said, admiring the art with the same enthusiasm as the woman.
While she inquired about the price, Eden’s eyes fell on a metal cat that sat in the back row. He picked it up gently and let the cool metal settle in his warm palm. Something about the meek little creature reminded him of Wren, and he couldn’t control the chuckle he let out. “I think I’ll get this one,” he said as he turned to the person behind the table, gaze catching Rosemary’s as he did. “Actually, I’ll take both.” Eden nodded at the piece in the woman’s hand as he handed over a $100 bill. He hadn’t wanted to pry into a stranger’s affairs, especially not tonight, but he could tell from the way she held the black rose that it had meant something to her.
Storing the metal cat safely in his suit pocket, Eden held out his arm for Rosemary to take. “Please don’t be mistaken. I’m not trying to buy your favour. I just figured it’d be a shame for you to return home without it,” he said in a cool tone as they wandered down the hall — not unkind, but he hoped that the woman wouldn’t get the wrong idea.
As they approached another doorway, Eden could see a rectangular booth. The room was mostly dark, which made the lit-up ‘PHOTOS’ sign shine even brighter. “Oh, a photobooth, um,” he trailed off, hesitating to walk any further. “Not exactly my style. But I can wait out here if it is yours.”
—
Max was surprised when Eden had purchased the metal rose for her. In fact, it had been a rare time in her life when it made her feel appreciated. Most days, she had felt like she deserved the things people got her, because to Max she was the greatest gift to humanity, but today was different. Today, she felt like she didn’t deserve anything. Not for the regret and guilt that sat just below the surface, “I don’t, but thank you. I have the perfect place for it in mind when I get home.” It was also a very rare moment for Max to say thank you and genuinely mean it. And while she would deny any of this ever happened, tonight, she was someone else, and could let it happen.
As they strolled down the hallway together, she caught sight of the photobooth. The idea of commemorating the night had been absurd at first, but Maxine had actually been able to focus on something other than her real life. Tonight it was Rosemary and Benson Boo’s night, “Nope. We’re here, we’re getting the full fucking treatment. Photos and all.”
Taking his hand, she pulled him into the booth. It had been tight quarters with the two of them, but Max didn’t mind it. After all, she had caught sight of him earlier, when he had unbuttoned his shirt, and it had easily been a turn-on. But as much as she had wanted to ruin the moment and ride him like a show pony, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t bring herself to be Maxine Diaz. Heartless Bitch that everyone hated, including her kids.
“Are you ready, Benson Boo? These things go fast.” Max leaned forward waiting to push start on his cue.
—
Eden had never been one to get in the way of someone else’s fun, and that’s what he had planned to do if Rosemary was keen on getting her photo taken. He barely registered what was happening as she slipped her hand in his, not until he was dragged behind the curtain and pushed onto the seat. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. On the screen was his masked self — human, not the siren that usually stared back at him in the mirror. Human, his own person, not just his mother’s puppet that the other cameras had captured for years.
“Fuck it,” Eden finally mumbled under his breath, tearing his eyes away from the image of himself on the screen. He didn’t want the other woman to think that he was that self-absorbed. “Born ready. Let’s do this,” he said as he nodded at Rosemary, barely holding back a scoff. If only she knew how ready he was for the rapid flash of a camera.
When Rosemary reached to push the button, Eden was suddenly aware of how close they were in the tiny booth. His elbow was pressed into her side, and in an effort to make them both more comfortable, he moved his squished arm. “Is this okay?” He asked, draping the arm gently over her shoulders. Before he could hear her full response though, the countdown began to flash on the screen.
For better or for worse, posing for a camera felt as natural to Eden as breathing. It had always been serious business, but by the second flash, his eyes met Rosemary’s and he couldn’t help but laugh. “This is nice,” he said quietly, his smile growing more genuine. However, somewhere between the third and fourth picture, Eden felt a hard shove to his left. He was pushed towards the centre of the seat, but when he whipped his head around to see the culprit who had stormed in, his gaze fell on nothing. “I’m so sorry,” he began, turning back to Rosemary whose face was much closer than it had been before. “Something just pushed me, I swear. Like a freaking ghost.”
—
Max had actually been glad that he was willing to join her, and had it been a normal night, and she wasn’t Rosemary, she might have forced him too. But for one night, Maxine wasn’t herself. She was someone she should’ve been. Someone, deep, deep down, she wished she could’ve been, and as dumb as it probably would sound the next day, she was going to cherish this night and this moment with some stranger who wasn’t afraid of her or knew anything about her, “Sounds like somebody’s done this before.”
With a genuine laugh, Max looked over at Benson, the realization of just how close they were. It was nice being this near to someone and not wanting to kill or maim them. In fact, the only thing she had wanted to do was be even closer in a more intimate way, and before she could admit it openly, the camera started flashing leaving Max stunned for a moment, before she started throwing cheesy faces at the camera, along with a few seductive and serious ones. But when Benson’s body had somehow managed to get pushed even further into hers, Max couldn’t hold back the need to kiss him.
With the camera still going, Max pushed herself up onto Benson Boo and laid a passionate kiss on his lips feeling every part of her undead body come alive, before she pulled back and looked straight into his eyes hoping he was thinking the same thing, “You want to take this party somewhere else?”
—
Eden hadn’t expected to have such a tender moment at an event like this. He had come to throw back a few drinks and let loose, the veil of secrecy that his mask provided making him feel braver than usual. But it seemed like what he was really craving in his heart was a moment of connection, no matter how brief. He was grateful that Rosemary was able to provide that for him, and he hoped that he had provided a positive moment in her night as well.
However, the tenderness faded into something more like passion the moment that Eden crowded Rosemary’s space. The apology barely had time to escape his lips before the woman was kissing him, and he barely had time to form a coherent thought before his hand was tangling into her hair. There was chatter outside of the booth — people talking about an unmasking ceremony, whatever that meant — but neither of them were paying much attention. Not that it would’ve mattered much at this point anyways. Eden already knew what Rosemary was going to suggest the moment that he met her gaze, and with just one nod, they were already making their way out of the booth.
He made sure to grab their photos on the way out, Eden smiling softly as he handed Rosemary hers. Perhaps he would find the photos in his pocket in the future and wonder why he hadn’t tried harder to uncover his companion’s real identity. For now though, as he guided her through the crowds of sweaty people back out into the fall breeze, he was satisfied with the fleeting intimacy that came with anonymity.
PARTIES: @debauchfairy, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: End of Summer
LOCATION: Vicker's Beach
SUMMARY: Kieran and Max meet at a party on the beach, but a Karen threatens to ruin their good time.
WARNINGS: Substance Abuse tw (Alcohol tw)
Just because the beach was also a fine place to enjoy in the evening, it didn’t mean that Kieran was going to give up what he perceived to be his right to have fun in the sand any time of day. At the current moment, however, Kieran was making use of the acceptable time for him and those with his shared interests to revel in what the beach had to offer. The sun had set some time ago and someone (obviously not Kieran, who had neither the know-how nor willingness for physical labor) had gotten a nice little bonfire set up. There were drinks, too, and an abundance of towels to avoid the majority of the sand - at least until people got drunk enough to stop caring. Kieran had simply opted to wear something that wouldn’t be irreparably damaged by a bit of sand, since being careful rarely bred the kind of fun he was interested in.
Most of these people’s names were a mystery to Kieran, even though he was sure some of them had been provided at some point, but the arrival of someone new did catch his attention. The thing previously holding the faun’s interest, a very charming and malleable specimen even without Kieran’s influence, would be returned to shortly but the woman making her way over did so with an air of confidence the faun liked. Patting the bare chest he’d been appreciating in a silent show of ‘off you trot’, Kieran moved to greet her, swaying only slightly on his bare feet. “Invited or here to crash? You’re welcome either way, long as you’re fun,” he spoke with a grin, trying to get a read on the woman’s current level of enjoyment and coming up… empty. Interesting.
—
Just because sunshine was often associated with summer, didn’t mean Max couldn’t go out and enjoy herself at night. In fact, it was mostly at night when all the fun really started (except for shark attacks. She hated that she missed seeing people ripped apart by nature’s human garbage disposals, but c’est la vie, right?)
Dressed in a crimson colored bikini with a thin white cover-up and sandals, the vampire made her way from her car and down to the beach. The bonfires were already starting and so was the shitty music. Fingers crossed the alcohol would be nice though. And as she laid eyes on a group of people, she noticed there were people of all legal drinking ages dancing and having a good time. Mama’s eatin’ good tonight.
Without hesitating, she reached for an unopened bottle of Captain Morgan and cracked the top on it. “Here to crash, obviously. Do I look like I hang out with these meatsacks on a regular basis? No offense to you of course…if they’re your friends. But fuck I hope not. You can do better.” Max was coming in hot, and if she had hurt his feelings, she’d just move on to the next person, but going off of his vibe and his outfit, she figured she was probably right. She had been around long enough to get a pretty good read on people.
—
Kieran’s laughter bubbled out, an unabashed sound even when the amusement came at someone else’s expense (and they would never even know so where even was the harm?). Alright, she was definitely fun. Not for everyone but when had that been a requirement as long as everyone important (Kieran) agreed she was fun. The use of the words meatsacks went mostly unnoticed, whether by a lack of caring or overabundance of drinks was anyone’s guess. “My friends? No, nothing like that. They’ll do for the evening, even though I can indeed and have done better.” Kieran eyed her dry bottle of Captain Morgan with no effort made to conceal his distaste - yes, being drunk was fun but why suffer while getting there? - and he took a sip of his own strongly mixed mojito.
With the airy, short sleeved white shirt Kieran had on, which had at one point been decadently unbuttoned to the middle but now flapped all the way open he was realizing, was a nice match to this stranger’s attire. Not only did she have good enough tastes to spot Kieran as the crown jewel of this whole gathering but she could dress up, too. “Crash away.” Kieran invited her to further join the soiree with a flourish of his hand. She was indeed immune to his effect but what were the odds of her being a warden, really? They were in public, anyway. It was fine, Kieran’s mind was the perfect kind of fuzzy from booze and making sure everyone was having a good time, worrying about things like wardens would only harsh the vibe. And worst came to worst, one of these eager things waiting to fuck him would be convinced to take a blow or two while he got away.
—
“Oh thank everything that is rich and stylish, because if these were your friends, I’ll be really fucking honest and say, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.” Max looked around at all of them. They were so annoying. Lost in their own little world getting piss-ass drunk and eye-fucking each other just because they could. Humans were so desperate and gullible, and the day she became something else was the day she had evolved into an even better version of herself, and one that was no longer limited in what she could do or who she could do, “I see you judging my bottle of rum. Tell me where you got the stuff to make the mojito, and I’ll give you a treat.”
Max was still going to down the Captain Morgan just out of spite to keep the annoying little humans from drinking it, but in the process, she would find something better. She had to, if she didn’t want her ears to bleed from the bubble gum pop echoing off the trees in the distance, “Do you come here often? To these white trash beach soirees with their horrible autotuned music or was this just for shits and giggles?” She looked around, eyeing each and every person, until she laid eyes on someone she would make her meal for the evening. Kieran would definitely have been a fun drink, but he was even better company, and that was hard to come by in this town. Especially after the Owen of it all.
—
For someone who usually preferred to speak their minds, which was an easy thing to do when you had objectively great thoughts and opinions, it was fun for Kieran to find a kindred spirit. Sure, she was a bit less polished than Kieran but who was he to judge her for letting loose when that was exactly what he tried to inspire in others every day. “It can be fun to grace the less fortunate with your presence,” Kieran explained with a grin, giving one of the aforementioned less fortunate a small wave with his fingers along with a wink. The gift of being noticed, one Kieran could generously hand out, especially when it came with a rush of euphoria mingling so nicely with the mojitos already in his system.
His grin grew at Max’s request and Kieran pretended to think it over for a moment before jerking his head towards a couple of coolers on the other side of the fire. “I never say no to treats.” Pushing open one of the coolers, he gestured to the contents with a flourish. Some ice, some limes, soda and an abundance of more alcohol. Her question made him laugh, especially as Kieran had already started to distractedly sway to the steady thrum of the music she was trashing. Was this the sophisticated kind of art music that any older and more graceful fae would appreciate or something a muse would take pleasure in? Definitely not but that mattered so little to Kieran, who simply enjoyed the way music could make him and the humans around him feel, spanning all the range from happy to horny, the latter taking precedence now as bodies swayed in close proximity. This stranger was interesting enough but Kieran could definitely feel himself getting a bit antsy for some less talking, more moving and touching. Glancing over his shoulder, sure enough the specimen from before was keeping an eye out for when Kieran had time for him again. Good.
“I’ll go anywhere there’s a chance of having a bit of fun,” Kieran explained simply, finishing off his drink and rattling the icecubes around as he held it out to the new arrival in the hopes she would fill his up, too. “What’s your name, then? Need a way to distinguish you from the nameless partiers.”
—
Max had to hand it to him. She was enjoying his way of thinking. Giving people a little treat of her own presence was something special. She didn’t have to make time for these pathetic humans. She just did. And having several best selling novels only added to her ego centric mind, which honestly wasn’t saying a lot. Max had always been this way, from the time she was little to present day, over a century later. Always believing there was something better out there for her. That people should be honored to be in her presence, and that she was the greatest gift to man. Rarely did she feel anything, unless she didn’t succeed in her goals; in which she felt disappointment in herself which meant obsessing on how to succeed in the future. Such a rigid life to lead on the inside, compared to what she showed people on the outside.
“Sharing is definitely caring, and I suppose since you haven’t led me astray tonight, I can top you off.” Going to the cooler with all the previously mentioned supplies, Max began mixing a drink for him, filling up his glass in the process, and making one for herself, before shutting the lid and making a mental note on which cooler to frequent, “I promise I haven’t forgotten your treat. It’ll come later in the night.” Much later, when you’ve had one too many, and you won’t notice two little fangs buried deep into that deliciously plump skin of yours…She grinned, “You’re right. I’m thinking way too much about all of this. Guess it’s time to just let loose and dance the night away.”
Taking a sip of her drink, she moved to the speaker and phone laying on top of it, before turning up the volume and going back to her new friend letting her body feel the beat, “It’s Mercy. And yours?” The last time she had visited this beach a fae had almost known that little secret, and until she knew otherwise, she didn't dare give out her real name to him.
—
Lead astray? Kieran would never lead anyone astray. Not in his very humble opinion, anyway, and it didn’t really matter whether or not people agreed since he was objectively correct. Sure it happened from time to time that those that fell into step with him weren’t thrilled with the consequences but that had more to do with their view on things than Kieran having any part in their guilt or displeasure. At least this new addition wouldn’t try to blame him for any of her own missteps or emotions, immune to him as she was. In the literal sense as she seemed to enjoy his presence enough to fix him a drink, too. Judging by her attitude and dismissal of literally everyone else, Kieran took it as the highest of praise. “How sweet,“ Kieran cooed, pegging her as the kind of person who was anything but sweet.
New drink in hand, Kieran returned her grin as she promised her mystery treat for later. He wasn’t a particularly patient fae but since all sorts of other treats were on the table for the now, he let it slide. Mostly. “Delayed gratification. Not my favorite but we’ll make it work. And just in case you need to revise your treat, all of this,” Kieran gestured to all of her with his free hand, “love the bikini, you’re in great shape, does nothing for me.”
Whether she caught on to his restlessness, the way simply standing and chatting was no longer doing it for him, or if she didn’t care in the slightest and was just getting antsy herself, the party crasher made a splendid observation. It was indeed time to let loose (or continue to, in Kieran’s case). The music grew louder and the crowd whooped, the simple tones of the beat heavy music drowning out everything else, permeating Kieran’s mind along with the drinks and the simple pleasures that filled the air. “Kieran,” he replied without apprehension, settling into the rhythm as a body pressed against his back and another stranger tried their luck with this Mercy.
—
“I know I’m in great shape, but thanks!” Max started to feel the music even more. “It’s a pleasure, Kieran. Now lets fucking dance until our legs fall off!!!” Raising her glass, the vampire screamed into the night getting the crowd to follow her calls of excitement.
As the music blared on, Max could feel herself getting lost in the rhythm and the sweaty bodies that danced around them. In fact, she was so caught up in the celebration that she hadn’t realized that the music had been shut off until there was a collective “aww of disappointment” coming from the crowd. And awkwardly stopping, the idea of being made a fool in front of so many people irking her, Max turned to Kieran to see what was up, “What the fuck? Why did the music stop?” And then she heard it.
She had known that sound all too well. It was the sound of a Karen. The shrill voice. The soccer mom haircut. The child awkwardly standing idly by while their mother droned on about something that had pissed them off and they needed the world to know about it. But what could be so worrisome at a beach at night? Most perfect little nuclear families were out and about at the beach during the day. Not late at night when all the riff-raff came out. “This is a public beach! Welcome to anyone AT anytime! Not people, like you all, drinking and ruining such a valued and safe space for families to come to!”
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” She let out a loud sigh. “Is this really happening right now, Kieran?” The plastic cup in Max’s hand was crushed in annoyance as the alcohol spilled out onto her cold, dead skin and the sand below.
—
Curating the right scene, getting people in the proper mood, making sure there were warm bodies around for any sort of snacking - it was a talent, one Kieran obviously possessed but the thrill of managing all of that still never lived up to the simple enjoyment of, well, enjoying it. Of letting the music take over, giving into the instincts the faun was so fond of letting control his actions, drinking in the euphoria none of them would have had without him. It was always the best part, the reason for it all, making it all the more fucked up when the moment was cut short.
It took Kieran a moment to break through the haze, following the irritated sound of Mercy’s voice back to the present, reluctantly pushing wandering hands off of his body. An even more irritated and annoyingly, more familiar voice, cut through the frustrated grumbling and confusion from the party goers. Kieran still didn’t know who had started this little get together but he was quite confident in who was going to make sure it kept going. Pushing past a few drunk and annoyed people, Kieran joined Mercy where she faced down the mom intent on ruining their fun, this time by turning off the portable speakers and blocking their way to them. Kieran sighed, glancing down at the uneasy child who seemed like he would rather be anywhere but here as his silly, innocent eyes tried to settle on something that wasn’t obscene.
“Your mom doesn’t get fucked properly at home, huh?” Kieran asked the bewildered child with barely a second passing from the words leaving his lips to a perfectly manicured hand striking him across the face. It didn’t hurt as bad as a run in with a hunter or an actual punch but the slap had been unexpected. And very unappreciated. Before the woman could strike again or continue her shrieking, Kieran had zeroed his focus on her, her eyes going distant as his magic weaved around her. “That wasn’t very nice. You’re going to raise your kid to be violent?” Kieran chastised, stepping around the now docile woman to turn the speakers back on. Cheers greeted the return of music but surprisingly, Mercy stuck around instead of returning to the sandy dance floor.
—
Max hated when a good party was ruined by ignorance, and tonight, a damn good party was ruined by ignorance. Sure, she could’ve just let it go when Kieran had snapped back after a firm, unexpected slap to the cheek resuming the party with the music. In fact, she probably should have just let it go, but instead, she took the woman by the hand, after giving the frightened child a devilish smirk, “Kieran, stay with the kid. I want to have a little talky-talk with our friend here.” The woman was just about to jerk her hand away, when Max stared intently into her eyes - the briefest flash of red showing up in hers before they returned to a more natural color.
When she had taken the woman well out of the line of sight to a more secluded area of the beach, Max let go of Karen’s hand and started circling her and taking in every inch of the woman, “Fuck me, you’d be hot if you didn’t look like a soccer mom with a mini van and rotten apple slices under the seat.” Leaning in, the vampire inhaled the woman’s scent, already starting to sense her fear – her favorite scent in the entire world, “It’s people like you who give innocent party goers a bad name. Now I’m not saying I’m innocent by any means. But those kids down there…they’re not out breaking windows or robbing old people or…murdering anybody…They’re just looking for a little late night fun with their friends. But me, on the other hand, well I came out for a late night snack. And I was gonna opt for my new friend, Kieran, but instead, I think I’ll go with the other white meat…Karen.”
Max had found herself behind the woman, her body pressed firmly into others as she ran her nose up her victim’s neck, before letting her fangs slowly protrude, “I’ll try to leave just enough, but I can’t make any promises.” And without waiting any longer, the vampire opened her mouth wide and sank her fangs into the woman’s neck as her victim let out a bloodcurdling scream that was drowned out by the music further down; no remorse for her actions whatsoever.
—
Having this woman make a fool of herself somehow was tempting, maybe convincing her to splash in the evening chill of the sea but there was the trouble of the stupid child. Kieran was entirely neutral towards it, the poor bastard didn’t choose to be born as a meager human to a simple, shrill voiced mother but alas, it wasn’t a tragedy the faun felt inclined to fix. Dealing with the child one way or another, by including it in the hypnosis or not, seemed a daunting task. Better to just get rid of both of them. At least that had been the plan but Mercy stepped up, making use of the woman’s more docile state. Or so Kieran had thought, his influence fading with no sign of the Karen objecting to being led off. Interesting.
As for the issue of Kieran being left with the kid…
Looking back to the child, who seemed incredibly distressed now which was very much harshing Kieran’s vibe, the faun grimaced. “Ew, okay,” he breathed to himself, glancing around and snatching the arm of the closest person that didn’t look too drunk to be properly standing. “Look after this child for a moment, would you?” he asked, even as it sounded more like an order, patting the surprised woman on the shoulder as he abandoned them both. Surely the human’s innate sense of wanting to protect small things would kick in and she would figure this out. If not… well, Kieran had done the best he could.
As Kieran curiously trudged through the sand, further away from the music, his ears perked. That was definitely a scream and there was no mistaking it for any sort of sound of excitement or pleasure. Even more curious, his suspicions about Mercy all but confirmed now, Kieran continued until the scene of the vampire euphorically feeding revealed itself. Even in the dim light of the moon, it was obvious that the annoying mom looked quite a bit paler than she should have. Kieran’s arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t tell me that was supposed to be my surprise.”
—
Max wasn’t surprised to find Kieran now standing nearby while she sucked the sweet nectar from Karen, and though she didn’t want to let up. Didn’t want to let go of the sweet morsel that was caught between her fangs, she reluctantly did, letting the woman fall into a heap on the ground. She’d be alright. The woman would just have to sleep it off, unless one of the party goers was nice enough to take her to a hospital for some blood.
Stepping over her, Max walked over to her friend, “Oh fiddlesticks. You caught me.” Max rolled her eyes as she wiped the blood from her mouth. “You might have just saved Karen’s life, you know. For a bitch, she was pretty tasty. But at least she won’t be bothering us the rest of the night.” Max glanced down at the people dancing to find the kid was down there too. “So, should we go back and dance the night away? I promise not to eat you.” She grinned with her fangs showing just for shits and giggles. The night definitely hadn’t gone the way she had expected it would, but with someone who liked to party just as much as she did, Max knew she was in good company. Company she wanted to keep around for a long time.
PARTIES: @highoctanegem, @twolittlefangs
TIMING: October 15th
LOCATION: Wicked's Rest Community Center
SUMMARY: Jade rescues Max from a very unexpected situation.
WARNINGS: WR Spice (Mentions)
It was nearly midnight as a car rolled down the empty streets of Wicked’s Rest with The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” blasting out of the windows. And it had been just loud enough to guide the rabid vampire out of the front doors of the community center, stumbling down the steps just as the car passed by. Ravenous, the red-eyed monster, with insurmountable strength, staggered into the middle of the street with a washing machine chained to her back around her chest and arms with one thing on her mind…blood.
And out of the distance came what sounded like a record being scratched as the wind blowing forced nearby trees to rub against the metal sides of a dumpster causing Max to suddenly shift her attention and end up tipping backwards from the weight of the washing machine, leaving her laying flat on top of it with her legs kicking in the air and her arms flailing; her wherewithal shot to shit from a lack of food in nearly three days.
Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.
“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian Queen…”
“Rasputin” played in the background while Max skated around with the other derby team members warming up for derby practice. It was something she had never in a million years thought she’d be interested in, but after Jade had mentioned getting to throw your bodyweight into people and just how violent the sport could be, Max made no hesitations to show up for practice. It had been a nice escape from the same old thing of clubbing, avoiding people she was starting to despise in Wicked’s Rest (like Rosemary, Guillermo, Mateo, and Owen), and staying cooped up at home. And the games…the games had been like no other! But, perhaps, the hardest part had been controlling her bloodlust when other players had gotten hurt. Still, showing control had been well worth it, and she’d keep doing it as long as it meant she got to take her anger out on other people, since killing and maiming was currently on the down-low until things cooled off again.
“Max, you're going to be our Jammer today. Think you can handle that?” The request had been surprising considering most practices and games, she had been a Blocker, but since Jade hadn’t shown up yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if that had something to do with it, “Yeah, sure. I can handle that.”
By the second half of the scrimmage, Max was really starting to feel exhausted; the blood she had consumed earlier in the day easily wearing off from all of the physical activity. And by the time the whistle had been blown to end the practice bout, Max was ready to throw hands…particularly with one of the players that had been giving her a hard time since she had joined.
“Okay guys. Great practice today. Max, great effort after being thrown into the deep end! You may have a future in Jamming one day. I’ll see you all this weekend for our next game. Rest up!” As everyone went their separate ways, Max headed back to the locker room to change, but it didn’t come without heckling from her teammate that was still giving her shit, “Great job today, Max. Maybe next time you’ll actually score a point.” The words caused the vampire to stiffen, but she continued about her business. It wasn’t until they both got into the locker room, that the other person shoved the brunette into the lockers, “That’s for earlier, when you “accidentally” tripped me, you stupid bitch.”
Hissing under her breath, Max felt her fangs come out, but managed to control her anger, “Look, Menace, I’m not trying to fight you. I just want to change and get outta here. And if you’re smart, you’ll let me do that.” Visibly seeing the anger come over Menace’s face, Max let out a loud sigh and rolled her eyes.
“What did you just say to me, Max the Ass-Kisser?” Balling up their fists, Max watched as Menace lunged towards her, and without much effort the vampire shifted her wait watching as her opponent went head first into the lockers. However, it didn’t take long until Menace was back on their feet and coming at Max again, but this time, she engaged; her fangs coming back out and her eyes turning red, and with a swift punch to the face, sent Menace onto the floor, before she was on top of them; fangs shoved deep in their neck draining her teammate’s blood, until she wasn’t anymore and everything seemed to go dark.
Letting out a moan, Max blinked a few times as the world started to brightly come into view, “What the fuck…” As she looked around, she struggled to realize where she was at, until she found herself sitting on the ground chained at the chest and arms securely to a washing machine, “WHAT THE FUCK!?” Struggling to move, the vampire squirmed around, but had no luck.
“Do you think we should unchain her? It’s been over an hour. I think she’s probably learned her lesson, and besides, I thought we promised not to haze anyone anymore?” Shrimp Blocktail peered through the small window of the shut door leading into the maintenance area where Max had been chained.
“No, Bitch can sit there like the rest of us had to. Besides, she almost ripped a chunk out of Menace’s neck. Let her cool down for a few days. Who even does that? And we don’t have to worry about her stay at Hotel Hell getting cut short, since the center’s gonna be closed for a few days due to maintenance after that rando cult almost burned it down about a month ago.” Hail Skatan glared at Max, before walking off with Shrimp and the other members who had helped to secure Max to the washing machine after a swift hit to the back of the head.
“Hey…HEY. I know you bitches are out there!!! LET ME GO!!!” Max continued to squirm and fight, but the chains had been way too tight. “What are these…magically binded or some shit?!” With a loud sigh, the vampire let her head fall back with a thud into the washing machine. And after nearly three hours of sitting and nodding off again, she awoke to find it was dark, except for a dim light overhead giving off very little light aside from the Exit sign over the door she had seen her teammates at earlier, “Okay…Guys…it was funny, but now it’s not. Fucking let me out of here!!!” Listening closely, Max wasn’t able to pick up on anything except the scurrying of tiny feet across the gym floor…Rats. The last thing she had wanted was to hear or see a fucking rat after Rosemary had broken her foot at the cemetery leaving her stranded and left to feed on the hideous little bastards until she could move again.
With the hours passing by, and Max stuck, she began to sing the most random lyrics that came to mind, “Out here in the fields…I fight for my meals…” First it was “Baba O’Reily”. Then it was “Swing” by Savage. Followed by the entirety of “Bohemian Rhapsody” by Queen. Before she was nodding off. And by the time she opened her eyes again, she could see the sunlight shining in just under the door and through the small window; grateful she was tucked safely in a dark corner out of harm’s way. But even then, Max had started to get antsy. And hungry.
As the day passed on, the trapped vampire tried to shift her weight so she could stand up, but with every position came discomfort and no way to push herself, or the washing machine, off the ground. And when nightfall came again, Max was beginning to see and hear things making her wonder if food was nearby, “Hey…Hey! Whoever’s out there, I’m in here! I need help!” She was vulnerable yet again with no one to save her, but it seemed worse this time. Because at least before, she was free to move around. Free to feed, even if it had been rats. And free to return home.
The sun coming up on the second day found the century old vampire talking to herself as she rocked back and forth muttering nonsense. It even came with a stronger bout of hallucinations including that of her mom and dad speaking to her in Spanish reassuring her that everything was going to be okay, and she’d be home in time for dinner. But the words spit back at them had come out in Italian as she spoke of a delicious meal of Menace’s eyeballs over spaghetti with a nice blood sauce made from that of her teammates, including Jade who had just left her to fend for herself. Some fucking friend she was. Probably at home with her bone partner…well boning. Fuck, how she’d like to bone. Feed and bone. Bone and feed. And she was going to do it too, when she got out of here. At least that’s what she told her imaginary parents, but this time in Spanish with an Irish lilt.
With another day closing out, Max had found a new obsession; scratching the legs of her pants, until the material had gotten thin, and you could see pale skin. Her fingernails worn down from the constant effort. But words were turning into something garbled, and between the drooling and the constant swallowing, Max’s mouth had gone dry. Even her lips were raw chewing on the soft skin, occasionally piercing her bottom lip with her fangs so she could savor the few droplets of blood that she would force out.
On day three, the vampire’s eyes were heavy and bloodshot. She was paler than normal and words were no longer there. Instead, she hissed and groaned, but something had changed. There was a new found strength and determination just within reach. Instinctively, her body was telling her that if she didn’t feed, she would no longer exist and for someone so vain, that had been the last thing she had wanted. So with her inconceivable strength, Max forced herself, along with the washing machine back into the wall, using the leverage in her legs to get up off the ground and somehow lift the heavy piece of machinery as well. There had just been one other problem. Once rather brilliant and conniving, this more animalistic version of Max had only one thing on the brain, and that was blood.
Door handles no longer existed. Exit signs blurred into shapes. The room was just a cage she was stuck in and would dumbly and forcefully find her way out of, but not without running into a few walls first. And when she did slam into the wooden door enough to break through it, she narrowly avoided impaling herself thanks to the washing machine getting stuck and her having to rock and wiggle, until she was pushed forward with momentum and ran out into the middle of a luckily dark gymnasium.
Success! Max was free! Well, almost. There was still the tiny problem of getting outside, and that had taken nearly two hours as the dumb creature broke glass. Smashed chairs. Knocked off arts and crafts. The cult had done a number on things, but Max’s unknowing reign of destruction was proving to be more fruitful eventually leading her to a line of double glass doors that led outside and into the crisp night air. But first she had to break them, and when she did, she found herself stumbling down the steps just as the car passed by. Ravenous, the red-eyed monster, with insurmountable strength, staggered into the middle of the street with a washing machine chained to her back around her chest and arms with one thing on her mind…blood.
And out of the distance came what sounded like a record being scratched as the wind blowing forced nearby trees to rub against the metal sides of a dumpster causing Max to suddenly shift her attention and end up tipping backwards from the weight of the washing machine, leaving her laying flat on top of it with her legs kicking in the air and her arms flailing; her wherewithal shot to shit from a lack of food in nearly three days. If this was the proverbial hill she was going to die on, it was fucking stupid, but at least Max would go out as a legend.
—
Here’s the thing. Jade wasn’t planning on skipping roller derby. Nuh uh! Not when she had perfect attendance records, and definitely not when she’d become so important to the team. (Cause, you know… that hunter sauce sure helped with the athleticism). So, having a place where she was actually wanted and valued? Where she had helped her team build the first winning streak since their inception? Nope, those opportunities didn’t come by often, Jade was totally committed to the beautiful girlies on her team. In fact, she’d come home after doing deliveries all day, fully intending to grab the bag she’d prepared the day before and rush out to the community center for a nice evening of shoving people around without serious consequences. It was gonna be awesome, as per usual.
What she wasn’t counting on, however, was coming home to Regan, who had chosen that very day to inaugurate sexy turtleneck season. As soon as she walked through the door and her eyes landed on the woman she loved wearing her favorite muddy green model like she had zero clue what she was doing, every rational thought in Jade’s mind (so like, all three of ‘em) peaced out. Her reptilian brain fully took over. (Which was, let’s be real, a common occurrence when it came to her partner). And she wasn’t going into full details, you pervs, but… do the math. She didn’t arrive to practice. (But she arrived alright).
She still had like, the decency to grab her phone in between rounds and let Tiffany know she wasn’t gonna show up. (On account of better heart-pounding activities at home, but she didn’t add that part). The heart emoji and the ‘we’ll miss you, hun!’ In response placated the very minimal guilt she felt over her priorities suddenly turning gay. And that was the best thing about low-stakes roller derby: she wasn’t sure that excuse would’ve worked in a more professional team. But here, in a team composed by stay at home moms, and college students, and retired baddies, everybody knew skating came second. (Cause Regan would always come first).
There was one tiny thing that bummed her out, though. And that was the fact that Max had been ghosting her ever since. Even the one text Jade had shot her, letting her know she’d be a no-show had gone unanswered. Max was too much of a girlboss to hold grudges, right? Plus, she’d fit right in from the first practice; she hardly needed Jade as a buffer. So that couldn’t be it. It sucked though, cause she’d really been wondering what went down that evening for everybody in the group chat to be acting all sus. There was an “incident” everybody kept lowkey referencing without getting into specifics, and it was driving her insane not to know! (She figured she’d lost gossiping rights when she skipped the practice, though) (It was in the codes of the team. Whatever happens in the rink stays in the rink). That didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about what had gone down, and if Max wasn’t answering her text, then she’d have to find somebody else to spill the beans. (Maybe Darla, cause she was always the last one to leave) (Jade was pretty sure she had something with the groundskeeper from across the street)(But do not get her started on that tea).
Three days after their scheduled practice, Jade stepped out of her Uber and sauntered toward the entrance of the community center. For entirely different reasons, mind you. Something about a cult doing weird cult stuff, as cults did. (And it wasn’t the cult she was here for, but the whispers of undead creatures aiding in the destruction of some of the rooms.
And hold that thought, actually, cause… Jade completely forgot about what she was here for, her steps slowing down as she processed what she was staring at outside the building. Pause, for real. Was that—
Of course, her Spidey Sense went off, just like it had the first time she met Max for training drills. A metaphorical bucket of ice was thrown at her face that day, when Jade realized she’d been chatting up with a vampire online. But it had been so fine, so chill cause… she wasn’t that girl who sank a stake or a knife without asking questions first anymore (right?) (Growth!). And Max had proven to be fun, and competitive, and potty mouthed in the bestest of ways, so there had been no concerns about anyone’s safety being threatened. Plus, she’d shown total control over the bloodlust anytime one of the gals injured herself. Jade had had nothing to worry about. She was in the presence of a good vampire indeed!
But the Max Jade approached now, looked way more feral than she ever did before. Which, if she’d been tied up to that machine since the last meetup, with nothing to drink, that would track. (But how did that come about in the first place, anyway?) (She’d never in a bajillion years imagined her roller derby team would get up to this kinda hazing) (Cause hers involved paint and glitter and just, everything was off her body the second she took a shower).
“Girl, what the heck?” Jade moved closer, staring at the arms flailing in the air. (She was so shook she couldn’t even find the humor in it yet). The glint of red in the woman’s eyes was also impossible to miss. But like, they hadn’t had the ‘hey, I’m a slayer’ talk yet, cause well, why would they? It would just mess up all the good vibes flowing between them. So she debated whether to approach this situation the innocent human way, or like the strong slayer who would definitely be able to unchain her. (Cause… did she want her unchained? Knowing that she would be hungry? That wasn’t exactly something she could help with, and as evolved as she felt these days, she wasn’t gonna go out and find Max a snack) “Um… how did you end up like this?” she tilted her head, curious.
—
Max continued to squirm and kick at nothing in particular with the impossible hope that she’d somehow free herself – her mind thinking anything but logical thoughts. It was the voice; one in a jumbled sea of familiarity that caught her attention though, and she immediately quit kicking and squirming. Instead, she started playing grabby hands hoping to latch onto Jade who wasn’t even standing that close to her. But the way Jade’s heart went thump, thump, thump in her well rounded chest meant Maxine could motorboat herself all the way to a great meal if the woman had just moved in a little closer. As a matter of fact, she could already picture it in her mind…
“Good evening, Madam. Would you like to try our special today?” The waiter stood stiffly looking down at Maxine as she sat finely clothed in a crimson off-the-shoulder dress looking like a million dollars at the nicest restaurant she had been to in quite sometime. Though she sat alone, the quiet chatter of the surrounding tables over lit candles made Max feel right at home, “No thank you. But I will have the Slayer Tar Tar with a glass of your finest blood wine, please.”
“Very good, Madam. I will have that out to you shortly.” And with a gentle nod of his head, the waiter was off, while Maxine took in the sights around her and the sounds of soft piano music playing “Anaconda” by Nicki Minaj in the background. She was greatly enjoying her night out, but soon that same familiar voice edged back in.
Letting out a guttural hiss, while what little drool she had left in her ran down the side of her face, thanks gravity, Max’s red eyes quickly went back to Jade. Her lovely vision of a nice dinner quickly fading back to reality and whatever fresh hell she had found herself in, “Skaters…hungry. Necesidad…food. Mangiare…Matar…” It was a mess of jumbled words that continued on endlessly, including some in Spanish and occasionally Italian.
—
Max seemed to be in a completely different world. (She was kinda jelly of her escapist reality if she was being totally honest). Jade stared at her for a bit, especially her grabby hands. (Unfortunately for Max, she was desirously taken, but she definitely got that she still had that effect on people). But it wasn’t just that, it wasn’t just that Max wanted to act on her most primal instincts, it wasn’t that she wanted that cookie really badly. She also seemed to be daydreaming about something. Even with the red eyes, that faraway look was unmistakable. (She’d know, being guilty of constantly drifting to her awesome thoughts, too). Plus, the drooling was really the crowning jewel of the sight. (And also, what was that sick beat in the background? Huh…Nick Minaj?) (When did they get the rights for that?) “Max, babe? Are you in there?” she tried again, waving a hand in front of her face.
A hiss came out of Max’s mouth, and Jade took a few steps back. Skaters. Hungry. Food. Matar. (That one she knew cause of Emilio). She proceeded to do the math in her head. So something actually went down during practice, which had to be the incident everybody kept making digs about in the group chat. Wasn’t that a total bummer, though? She had believed her team was totally chill and friendly, but was this how she found out that maybe they were all mean girls in disguise?
WOAH. Wait, wait, wait. Ew. Why did she immediately jump to sympathize with the vampire? (Like, who was she anymore? Yikes). Cause, actually, who said it wasn’t Max who got aggressive over something? Giving the proclivities people of their kind had? What if Carla slipped and fell like she usually did and bled out all deliciously for Max to prey on? (Jade was willing to concede that it might not have been intentional; obviously, she was trying to be a little more understanding, but still… hungry vampires were dangerous by default).
Point in case, the creature currently chained to the laundry machine making grabby hands at her, talking about killing (her, probably). That was so not the Max she’d been getting to know in practice. And see, this was one of those conundrums that Jade didn’t have back in the day, when a lack of pulse and thirst for blood immediately required the stake treatment. On the one hand, if Jade wanted to appear friendly and win Max’s goodwill, she should approach and untangle her. And she wanted her goodwill; she wanted Max to trust that she wouldn’t simply stake her for the sake of it. That if it came down to it, she would try to help cause… (quick, what were good reasons to help vampires? Cause she’d been told it was, but…) Cause. Yup. (There). This wasn’t much different than waking up Vic from her surge-induced episode, or helping Metzli patch up their wound after they got shot. On the other hand, she was in front of a dangerous vampire, whose brain was totally scrambled due to hunger, who might have to end up chained again if she didn’t know how to behave.
Against better judgment (all the inquiries she’d sent were pending for answers, the team had probably clocked out for the night), Jade approached, trying to pinpoint where exactly she should start untangling this mess. What did she plan on doing with a thirsty vampire once she was out of her imprisonment? Who knew? She would concern herself with it later (But seriously, if legal could get back to her before she started unchaining–). “Stay still, okay? You’re gonna be a good girl, right?” She looked at Max, knowing that the chances of her words reaching her brain were low. (Especially if Anaconda was playing in the background) (Priorities).
—
Max continued to kick and hiss and even drool a little. Damn gravity. It was tickling her cold, dead cheek, and she stuck her tongue out and started to swipe at it hoping to catch it and maybe stop the tickle. But alas her mind was suddenly caught by something else. A moth flying around in front of her, “Food.” The word came out in a low growl as the winged creature fluttered around her face and mouth, Max shifting her shoulders awkwardly as she strained forward, “Come back, food.” The insect continued to flutter until it landed on Max’s nose, tickling even more than the slobber did, leaving her to shake her face, before trying to snatch it out of the air with her teeth. No such luck.
But what did happen was another shift in her weight, and when the chains fell to the ground, so did Max. Rolling over with too much force that she splattered on the concrete below with a groan from her previous horizontal resting place on the washing machine she had been strapped to.
It was only a matter of time though, before she was back on her feet, and now had her sights set solely on Jade. This was food. Walking, talking, living, breathing food. A tasty treat for such a hungry vampire, and with her glowing red eyes focused straight on Jade, she launched onto the woman like a spider monkey; all her weight moving forward with the hope of knocking the woman to the ground for an easier stunned meal.
—
A friendly little moth was super nice to provide Max with some distraction while Jade got up to the whole unchaining thing. And again, she wanted to make it clear that she knew the risks, of course, but she still hadn’t heard back from the little folks making the good decisions upstairs (they sure didn’t work many days of the year, did they?), so she stuck to her gut, cause well… she might mess up, but at least nobody could accuse her of being calculating. (Which would be…bad? Sorry, sometimes it was hard to remember why people hated her when she didn’t care about these things). The point was, this had all the potential to be a very bad, no good, terrible decision, but you know… it didn’t feel wrong. (And maybe that was enough).
It turned out that untwisting just two knots was enough to let the weight of the chains do most of the job. They slid off her hands quickly, and in like, two blinks, Max was splattering to the ground with a nasty thud. (And okay, next time, she should probably make sure the person she was unchaining had a comfy place to land first) (She was learning lessons she’d never learned before here, give her a break). Jade followed the trajectory of the fall, wishing once again she had four arms instead of two, but unfort, that wasn’t the case (yet), so she had to settle for a sympathetic wince as she watched the woman crash against the concrete. Whoopsie. Max stayed there for a few beats, gathering herself, probably, and then she rolled over.
“Hey!” She flashed a friendly smile, despite the feral red eyes boring into her. Jade didn’t care. Cause, first of all, she had on the receiving end of this look since before she learned how to properly tie her shoes (she was a slow learner) (velcro FTW), but second of all (or maybe more important in this case), if Max had her eyes on her, that meant that she didn’t have them on any innocent pedestrians who would be unlucky to walk by. That was duty in itself. Bleeding yourself dry so others wouldn’t. It just… wasn’t always this literal. Cause… that was what was about to go down, right? Max (who had no clue Jade was a slayer) would obviously chomp on the first tasty human she could get her hands on. Which happened to be one Jade Bloodworth. She would be in for a rude awakening if she sank those fangs in her, though. Given the slayer sauce and all. Maybe she liked it though, maybe she preferred a little more spice in her food. Jade was trying not to think too hard about what she was doing, and how far she’d strayed from her initial calling by helping a vampire like this. But it was her blood, so it wouldn’t have to be anybody else’s. It kept people safe from becoming a meal. It brought Max (who hadn’t deserved to be chained like that) (presumably) back to reality. It was dubs all around, except for her (but you know, a girlfailure could take a few Ls, it was totally fine).
It wasn’t the first nor the last a woman would’ve launched herself at Jade with such thirst (like, just recently—), so she put on some old tricks to cushion the fall as best as she could. But yup, Max sure lunged and crashed against her (ouchie), landing both of them on the concrete. Her heart pounded against her throat, probably enticing Max even further, but her hand ghosted over her belt, where she had a dagger at the ready should the vampire get too frisky. Then she gulped, bracing for whatever it was the monster wanted from her.
—
Max smacked the ground once more, but with a softer thud thanks to Jade. However, unintentionally, she got her wish to motorboat the slayer and her yabos. It was quite pleasant, and would be even better if she hadn’t been so desperate for food. Maybe she’d come back to the girls later. Right now, she had other plans in mind. A nice juicy steak dinner aka Jade. And as she crawled up the woman’s body, her eyes trained on the pulsating carotid artery, Max let her two little fangs sink deep into the woman’s skin, before she began to furiously consume the nectar of life.
This had gone on for a few minutes, her feral state longing for blood no matter the cost, until the vampire had started to find herself again and the burning sensation in her mouth got too strong for her to handle. Immediately, Max rolled off of Jade coughing and spitting out the slayers blood, “Aguh, fucking slayers!” She hacked and coughed, until she was able to find her bearings, “What the fuck?!”
Max slowly sat up off the ground looking around. The past few days had been like a fever dream, but she could strongly recall Menace starting a fight with her, before the team had chained her to the washing machine that she was now leaning up against, “Menace.” The player’s name came from gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fucking murder them, but not before hanging them upside down and slowly gutting them like a cow.” Her fists were balled. Clearly, it hadn’t been the most appropriate thing to say with Jade sitting right there, but it had come out in anger, because of the past few days.
—
This was an original experience, that was for sure. Not the biting of it all. Cause Jade had gotten her fair share of vampire bites throughout her long and (insert any adjective of your preference, but be nice) career. Those creatures could and would fight dirty if needed. Obviously, she meant the fact that she was doing this willingly. (But not like Jenny, she wanted the record to show. Never like Jenny!) (Cause that was dumb and irresponsible, and this was… okay, that, but also necessary) (So it definitely overshadowed the rest of the sentence). The part of her that had some apprehension still, wondered if Regan would be mad at her for hurting herself like this, or proud for trying to help the type of monster she’d previously only looked at as a threat. If she knew, would she stick by Regan’s preferred choice? (Was this progress?) (Or had she taken simping a step too far?).
And why was taking Max so freaking long? She looked down, growing frustrated. Oh. Okay. Welp, Jade couldn’t blame Max for the momentary distraction. Like truly, she got it. The girls were looking all perky and enticing as per usual, but she wanted to snap her fingers and tell her to chop chop, cause they were on the clock. She didn’t need to, Max finally pounced a beat later. Fangs sank into her neck and Jade hissed, pained and uncomfy. She got a hold of the dagger, just in case. (Hoping she wouldn’t need to, cause it kinda defeated the purpose of her very smart, somehow also reckless idea). As Max began to take, she couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander to Jenny. Cause she had no clue what was so fun about this. Again, she hated that this made her sound like a pearl-clutching prude, and obviously nobody could question her freak credentials. But this? Unsexiest thing in the world, curse all those movies that made people believe the opposite. (Surely decades of being told how much of an abomination folks like Max were had limited influence here).
Honestly, the pain was actually a nice distraction from how repulsed Jade felt letting this unfold. Distracting her from the way her fists balled to stop her natural instincts from kicking in, to hold herself down before shoving the vampire away and thrusting a stake between her ribs. (Way more normal of a reaction than getting horny about it, obviously) (See how easy it was, Jenny?). Thankfully, it wasn’t long until Max got herself together and figured out that what she was drinking was actually not very tasty at all. It was a good sign when she retreated, but in that moment it was hard for Jade to tell if she was a little lightheaded cause of the relief or cause you know… the sucky sucky. “I’m sorry,” she whined, watching Max cough and practically gag once she got her fix. (Okay, a little rude). “9 out of 10 women prefer me, you just got unlucky to be number 10. I’m sorry I wasn’t good for you, babe. It’s my first time, I was a little nervous,” she placed her palm on the ground, slowly rising to a sitting position. Her head strongly disagreed with the action, but she was too stubborn to listen.
So she let herself spin a little, cause it wasn’t even that bad. (It was like a rollercoaster, but inside your body) (Yup, she was joking to block the real stuff she was gonna have to process later, whatever). In the meantime, she kept her eyes on Max, who did look a lot better now. Human. Despite the disheveled look she had going on. Cause she could probably fool people into thinking this was a very delayed Halloween costume, anyway. Menace. It took Jade a sec to realize she wasn’t the one being called menace (for once), but rather, this was Max referring to their teammate, who had chosen that nickname in the rink. And oh, that sorta tracked. Menace was super fiery. But Jade hadn’t read them as the type of person who chained folks to laundry machines. (Not a scenario she pondered much, if at all, to be fair). That was a little more than a menace, actually.
“Hey, whoa, hold up, girly,” her eyes widened when she heard Max’s intention to get revenge. Talk about 0 to 100. “Let’s not… jump to murder right away,” she heard herself say it, but it didn’t mean it didn’t surprise her. (Or that she wholeheartedly cosigned on the sentiment). This season was just… so strange, the dialogue kept her on her toes. “How about… a mean prank instead. I’m due for some car keying, it’s been like… seven years,” and of course, she was including herself in the mischief here, cause she felt a little guilty for bailing on that practice, and then proceeding to be all kinds of a yucky meal for Max to get her nutrients back. (And even further than that, for being the one who invited Max along to roller derby in the first place). “Honestly… I didn’t know they got up to this kinda thing.This is like, a total eye opener. I might have to find a new team,” it was becoming a little bit the story of her life, realizing that the teams she was once a part of were kinda problematic, wasn’t it?
—
Max was barely registering what Jade was saying. Her head was still spinning from the mix of being starved for nearly 3 days and then consuming slayer blood. Both situations, definitely not ideal. Everything about her was wanting to rage. She had been embarrassed. Made to look like an idiot, and that never went over well. Cuss words flew out of her mouth in Spanish, until she was finally able to calm herself down, and put her full attention on Jade, “A prank? They starved me for how many days, and you want to play a prank? Babe, if these are who you’re looking to be friends with, you might want to rethink your values.”
She could still taste the burn of Jade’s blood on her tongue and it grossed her out. She’d have to go home and drink hard liquor to get the rancidness out. And then maybe she’d think about murder again. But for right now, all she wanted was to go home, get out of the nasty clothes she had been subjected to for multiple days in a row…in fact, burn them, shower, and snuggle up with Norman Bates.
Climbing to her feet, she looked down at Jade, “Are you good? Or do you need me to take you home?” She knew how it sounded, but with a loud sigh and an eyeroll, she confirmed she wouldn’t be up to no good, “And don’t worry. It’s not for nefarious reasons. You actually saved me. I may be a psychotic, murderous bitch, but you didn’t stick a stake through my heart or leave me chained to a washing machine to lose what was left of my mind.”
Max definitely wouldn’t call it a friendship forming between her and Jade, even as she offered her hand to help the other woman up. But one thing was for certain, she definitely wasn’t going back to derby, because if she did Wicked’s Rest would be down its best team.
TIMING: 10 October
PARTIES: Max @twolittlefangs and Jenny @whimmortal
LOCATION: The Crypt of the Red Rose
SUMMARY: Jenny and Max meet up again, this time at the Crypt of the Red Rose and get to know each other better.
CONTENT WARNING: WR spice (just talk), medical blood
Maxine had heard rumors through the grapevine about Crypt of the Red Rose from people at Dance Macabre and had been meaning to check it out. And upon further research had found that the rules of entry were right up her alley, including the dress code. Wicked’s Rest, though boring at first, had started to show its true colors, and a lot of it included shades of red. But if she was going to fully enjoy her night, the idea of having company - even if that company was a human bloodbag – had made it better. So when she thumbed through her phone contacts, her perfectly manicured claw was drawn to one person…Bella Swan.
Jenny, I mean. Jenny.
With a swift text, she sent a link for the club and the requirements. If the walking talking blood bag wanted to risk it, Max was going to be impressed, and take her on a ride she would never forget, as a little treat for Jenny being a good girl. But if she was too chicken shit, then Max was still going to take her on a ride. It just would have been more for Max’s pleasure.
“I’m not waiting here all fucking night, Twihard. Where the fuck are you? Did the big bad wolf get you instead…” Max had been waiting patiently at the door. If you could call waiting for five minutes, and she was ready to leave the woman on her own if she did actually show up. So instead of giving her human pet another five minutes, she pulled out her phone and began to scroll through her messages ready to shoot off a pretty nasty text.
—
When her phone had buzzed with an invitation from Max, Jenny had nearly jumped out of her skin with excitement. The alluring vampire was toying with her and though she was trying to play the game right back, it was hard to when she so desperately wanted to see her again. And here the vampire was, asking her to come to a club she had not yet heard of. After her burst of excitement, Jenny had gone and dressed up, pulling a ribbon around her neck after she’d squeezed into a formal dress and added some of her more traditional gothy accessories. Her hair had a bow of the same material as the one around her neck. Her make up was dark, with a blood red lip.
It took time to look this drinkable, but she was rushing, really. She would (try to) arrive a little fashionably late as though not to show off how excited she was, but she would still make it in time. Hence her pushing her gas pedal past the speed limit as she drove to Midnight Grove, moving out of the car and into the graveyard with her heart beating loud.
No part of her wondered if another vampire might intercept her on her way to Max. That was simply not how tonight was going to go. Jenny was just struggling with the soggy earth underneath her heels, and once she finally made it to the sent location, she offered the vampire a half wave. “Good evening,” she said, touching the other’s elbow softly. “I’m sorry I’m late.” She blinked, then looked at the crypt behind Max. “Are you ready to go in?”
—
Max had typed up a pretty lengthy and incredibly rude text and was just about to hit send, when she felt someone touch her elbow and speak. Bella. Quickly closing out the text and shoving her phone back into the pocket of the black leather jacket she was wearing, she easily slipped on a smile with no trace of annoyance on her face whatsoever, like a snake in the grass, ready to have its meal, “Hey! Bel…Jenny! I was really starting to think you weren’t going to make it.” Like so much so, that I was about to call you a lot of mean things. “I am so ready to go in!” And have been for the past ten minutes.
Without waiting any longer, Max moved forward giving the bouncer at the door a wink, before entering into the Crypt. And as soon as she broke the threshold, her eyes widened at the decor held in the interior of what simply looked like a mausoleum on the outside. It was breathtaking for someone who didn’t need to breathe, and regardless of if Jenny had shown or not, Maxine knew she was going to have a memorable and hopefully pleasurable time.
“This place is everything. I don’t know why I didn’t come here sooner. Have you ever been before?” She looked back at her date wondering if the human had somehow made it in without Max’s help. If the vampire could lure more gullible humans in on the promise of a good time, she’d be a VIP at this place in no time, “Drinks on me tonight.” And maybe you…“What are you having?”
—
Max looked dazzling. Jenny hadn’t expected much less, but she felt herself flush healthily at the sight of her and the promise of the evening ahead. “It takes some time to look this good,” she said, though she didn’t sound wholly convinced. She tried to fake it till she made it, but she was still in the faking it part of it all. She smiled at the other, following her into the club and letting her eyes travel down the other’s body before looking around the space that opened up for them.
This was even better than Dance Macabre. She did not bother to hide her awe, happy to play the dazzled human tonight (a role that fit her well as it was close to reality). There was something elegant about the place, yet also dangerous. Like a speakeasy of sorts, but then for vampires who had had centuries to become good at interior design. “It really is. I’ve never been — so thank you for bringing me along.”
She wondered what the bar had. If this was a club that catered to vampires, was there anything that she’d enjoy? Jenny didn’t like the taste of blood, even if she’d tried as a teenager to get familiar with the iron taste. “A red wine to start,” she said, hoping they’d at least have that. “Though I’m not sure if the menu caters to me … I guess we should find out?” She didn’t ask Max but she was wondering — would the vampire be using her as a bar tonight?
—
While normally Max would’ve rolled her eyes so hard back into her head that she could see the back of her skull, Jenny actually did look good tonight. Tasty in more ways than one, so the effort and being late did seem worth it, even though Max had been thoroughly annoyed. But the point was, they were both here, and something exciting was bound to happen tonight whether it be dancing or her favorite pastime…murder, “Yeah, well…you definitely don’t disappoint.”
Enjoying the elegant atmosphere, Maxine had been reminded of her past life, when things seemed sophisticated, and people were, all around, just classier. Now, most people were sloppy and lazy. They took no pride in themselves, and though Max could be cruel, people today were just rude. She hated the younger generations, and she had noticed that it had started with the Boomers, and had gradually declined with people so obsessed with themselves in a gross kind of way that Max gagged a little every time she thought of another Gen Z or Gen Alpha taking a selfie or speaking in garbled English with their slang. The only plus side to these newer, younger generations had been the lack of common sense and how gullible they were all becoming; which made feeding so much easier.
“Yeah, sure. You’re welcome. You’re the first human I’ve actually enjoyed being around in quite sometime. So much so that I haven’t wanted to rip your throat out yet. Yay you!” The words were flat, except for a tiniest inflection on ‘yay you’, before Max walked towards the bar, “I’ll have your finest blood on tap, and for my friend – your best red wine.” Turning back to Jenny, Max casually leaned against the bar waiting for their drinks, “So what’s your deal? Are you like, obsessed with vampires or something, or is it just me?” She figured it was time to get to know Jenny better. Make her feel special, before she decided if she wanted to keep her around or not.
—
She smiled at the other, taking the compliment to heart. Jenny was good at taking compliments, in the way that she let them get to her head and remembered them forever, clutching them like little pearls that proved her worth. Max, a vampire of impressive age and beauty, thought she didn't disappoint — and though she could have sang her praises with words like pretty or stunning, this was well enough. “I'm glad.”
Then there was the next compliment, which was delivered in a deadpan and followed by a mild threat. This was not one she'd use for proof of her worth, but rather of proof that her life had grown increasingly exhilarating since moving to Wicked's Rest. She did not want her throat ripped out – just nibbled and bitten down on – but she would not be caught begging the other not to until the threat was actually close to coming to fruition. She did not stir instead, as if she was in on the joke that Max ripped out throats on many occasion! (She might, or it was some kind of performance — Jenny was never sure about people's sincerity considering her own lack of it.)
“I think my throat could be much more beneficial to you when not ripped out,” she suggested, following the vampire to the bar. She placed one elbow on the bar, looking at the assortment of drinks on offer. Her free hand toyed with a bit of jewelry. “My deal?” She was quick to continue talking, not wanting to just echo dumbly. “I found out about vampires when I moved here and though I think obsessed is a crude word, I do have an affection for you and your kin. Something so alluring about it all, hm? But something alluring about you besides it, too.” She blinked. “I mean … you're striking, truly. I'm curious about all you've seen.”
—
Jenny was different, and Max was trying to figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She liked the way the younger woman fawned over her and her beauty and undead experience. It fluffed Max’s ego. It was like having a little pet around. One that could compliment her and say nice things and do what she wanted. Unlike her dog, Norman Bates, who just ate and shit all the time. But most of the time, that’s what Max enjoyed, because while he would bark at her and be needy, it wasn’t an annoying kind of whine. It was one out of sure survival, and she could respect that.
“You do have a way with words, don’t you? Telling me exactly what I want to hear.” She leaned forward and booped Jenny’s nose, “Well guess what, Bella Swan? I like that. You seem to be worming your way onto my good side, and not many people can do that.”
When the bartender finished making their drinks, Max grabbed the wine and handed it over to Jenny, “Drink up. This is a special treat for both of us, and if you want to hear stories about my past, then I’m gonna need all the blood I can get.” Grabbing her own glass from the counter, she took a sip of the crimson drink, before going to find a private, secluded spot that they could both enjoy. Maxine definitely didn’t want to be bothered by thirsty vampires trying to flirt with her date. Jenny belonged to her, and if anybody was going to drain the Twilight obsessed human’s blood tonight, it was going to be her.
—
Her eye twitched for a moment when the other called her Bella Swan. For all her affections for the book series, she really did not think herself very similar to the main character. No, Jenny considered herself more of a Jessica or Alice, even if she could certainly see herself falling for the Edward-type too. She had no intentions to marry in order to gain immortality, nor to die and be reborn during childbirth. It had made for an interesting story, but that was so not Jenny Price!
“Just telling you how I see it,” she said, grinning at the boop against her nose. And maybe it didn't matter that Max had nicknamed her Bella Swan: she was making a good impression. When it came to women who could kill you, that was good enough. “That is the side of you I'd like to be on. But I can be flexible.”
She was about to argue that knocking back a glass of red wine was not exactly how she liked to savor her drinks (though with tequila or other liquors it could easily be done of course), but reconsidered. She took a large sip, following Max to a more secluded corner. So far, so good. Surely vampire bars had a thing against killing humans on the premises. Right? Jenny slipped down next to Max, “So tell me a story. I'm all ears.” She lifted her glass again, taking a slow sip before placing it back down and watching her expectantly.
—
When Max felt Jenny sit down next to her, she leaned in close to the younger woman’s neck and pressed her nose into it taking a good strong sniff; her eyes closed and her fangs threatening to poke out. But patience was a virtue, and she really wanted to savor this evening, especially considering the classy joint they were currently hanging out at. Maxine knew how important it was to make a good impression. She had come from a classier era, and one where you respected your elders. If she wanted an easy fix, she could go back to Dance Macabre where there were a dime-a-dozen Twihards and Buffy Nerds waiting to be sucked off. And though Jenny came off as Twihard, she seemed to be more respectful of Max and her timeline; not blood horny.
“Fuck, you smell good.” Biting on her bottom lip, she took in a deep breath and let out a soft sigh as she reverted back to her own glass of liquid, taking another sip and sitting the glass back down on a nearby table, “A story, huh? Well, what do you want to know about?” She shifted her weight and rested her arm on the back of the couch as she reached out and pushed a stray strand of Jenny’s hair behind her ear, “I’ve been here for over a decade. I’ve seen more shit than your grandparents have. So what part of history strikes your fancy?” Max was an open book, for the most part, and would delight in the idea of talking about herself as long as Jenny stayed away from certain subjects.
—
Anticipation was more intoxicating than the wine in her hand ever could be and Jenny felt her pulse hasten as Max leaned in. Did the vampire sense it too, the way her blood was pumping through those arteries faster than it was before? She was not sure yet how vampires sensed blood, if they did at all. She wanted to know what Max meant when she said she smelled good, not just in the sense that she wanted her ego stroked but also because she wanted to understand how that biology worked. How heightened vampire senses were.
She looked at Max as she retreated, eyes wide and intrigued. She did not say it but the offer was clear: if she wanted to do more than smell, she could. “Hmm,” she said, tapping her chin in thought. There were many parts in history that interested her, but there were certain areas more intriguing than others. “There are plenty of interesting eras — I always like the satanic panic, as it led to a lot of good movies …” Jenny hummed. “But I’m not looking for a history lesson, I want to know about you. What was an era where you were living it up? Seventies, maybe?” She cocked her head. “Just a guess.”
—
The inviting look on Jenny’s face hadn’t slipped past Max, but sometimes she liked to see them squirm. Like to tease and toy with them, until they were begging for the vampire to bite them. It was the magic formula that she had figured out many years ago. How to flirt, but just enough to drive people insane, and if they knew what she was, the slow burn of anticipation of just when she would make her move seemed to turn her on more than anything. Maxine had always been a walking mystery. She had carried an air of intrigue with her from the time she understood what it took to properly manipulate people, because there was something always so intriguing about not showing your cards, especially when you reassured people that you held a power over them that they couldn’t touch.
“The seventies? No, baby girl. The seventies were fun, but they held nothing on the forties. I didn’t have a dime to my name, but fuck the parties were good. The world was in a state of chaos. We were just coming off of the Great Depression, but we made it good. Parties, clubs, and the music. The music was everything. Billie Holiday, Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Emilio Tuero…” Maxine paused and closed her eyes. She could hear the music playing in her head. The way she swayed along with some random sailor no older than she was at the time.
Opening her eyes, Max let out a soft sigh, “Look around you, Bella. We’re in one of the most technologically advanced moments in history, but are you people truly happy? Everybody wants power and to be richer and to have fame, but let me tell you, Baby. The less you care, the better off you are.” She leaned to the table and grabbed her glass of blood pulling it to her lips for a sip, before putting it back down and focusing her attention on Jenny again.
—
Surprise washed over her features, the forties a time in history that seemed so marred by war and its aftermath. It would be far from the era she’d pick, looking back to the last century — Jenny would like the seventies or eighties better. But she had not lived through it, so who was she to judge?
“I do love me some Billie Holiday,” she said, which was semi-true. Jenny liked her music, but it was hardly like she put the music on herself. No, all of the artists Max mentioned reminded her more of her grandparents’ record collection which … was a train of thought best abandoned. Max seemed pulled back to that time’s music anyway, so she spent her time shaking off the realization that the vampire was older than her grandparents. (It was so different, anyhow! Like, look at her! She was nowhere near grandma-like.) “So no era since that has lived up to it?”
Max spoke in a way that hardly resonated with Jenny, but she’d spent enough time in her life schmoozing to know how to nod and smile. “Hmm-hm, we have the world at our fingertips and it only makes us miserable.” But she was one of those people, that wanted fame and riches. To be fair, she already had the latter, so the former seemed realistically attainable. “That’s way more easily said than done. I don’t care about plenty of things, but then there are other things where I cannot shut it off… maybe that’s something learned with time?” A beat. “It’s Jenny, by the way.”
—
Jenny liking Billie Holiday had surprised Max. There had been people from this generation who still had good taste. She couldn’t deny them that, but their attention spans had seemed like that of a flea jumping from one thing to another, and it drove Max insane. Whatever happened to stopping to smell the roses? Now, not even a fart was given a second thought, “Yeah, no era has, unless you include the 20s, when I was born.” She wouldn’t speak on that. Or of her parents. They were too precious to her, despite how much she had felt they had wasted their potential. They did bring her into the world though, and most days that meant enough.
“Well, Jenny…” Max made sure to put emphasis on the girl’s name, “that’s what these tech companies want. Every last moment of your brain’s energy and attention, because all of the little sheeple in the world are their walking cash cows. But yes, it is absolutely learned with time. A lot easier when you didn’t grow up with it. Trust me, when my agent and publisher told me I had to get on TikTok to connect with fans, I hated it. Despised it.” Wanted to drain the life right out of both of them. “But I set a timer. Stay on it for a certain amount of time, and then get off for the week. Try it some time. It might be hard at first, but you’ll thank me later.”
Max leaned forward and gently put her hand on Jenny’s arm. Her touch was cold from the lack of blood circulating through her body, but she had enjoyed the feeling of warmth coming from her date’s own skin; which also meant the blood was fresh and not stagnant or stale, “So what about you? I know you’re still a fetus, but what’s your favorite…I don’t know…music or whatever it is that you crazy kids are into these days?”
—
Despite the fact that Jenny had known vampires were real for a few months now, and had interacted with a few others besides Max, the reminder that she was a century old was awe-inducing. She knew that vampires did not age physically (that was like, the whole point!), but to really try and realize that the woman next to her was over a hundred years old was dizzying. “Ha,” she said, “That’s real. I love the nineties, even though I was a babe for most of them.”
There was something a little bit outdated about Max talking about tech in this way, but it was hardly as if she could blame her. Technology had changed rapidly in the 28 years she had been alive, it must be even stranger for someone over a century old. “Oh, I know! Their algorithms are traps. I’ve defeated my tendency towards doomscrolling, but it took some serious effort. A timer, like you said. It made me read less, and that was unacceptable.” She cocked her head to the side, intrigued, “Publisher?”
As Max’ cold skin met hers, a shiver of excitement ran up her spine. Jenny leaned a little closer, crossing her legs so it was easier to move up the bench. “Oooh, so I love music. Darkwave, newwave … you know, the Cure, Bauhaus? But I don’t like sticking to just one thing. There’s some great modern stuff out there too. I’m not too snobby to enjoy some good pop, either.” She hummed in thought. “Besides that, I like to read as I said, and I grew up going to the theater. The scene is a little lacking here, but that’s alright.” She shrugged, pleased with herself. “Both hobbies of all times, I suppose.”
—
“I hear a lot about the nineties. I guess if I had been born around that time, maybe I could appreciate it more, but I just don’t see the hype. To each their own I suppose. And I guess some of the music isn’t half bad. Like “Pony” by Ginuwine.” She ran her teeth across her top lip as she leaned in a little closer. Putting even more focus on her date. “You like reading? Ever heard of Mercy Romero. She’s a dark romance writer.” This had piqued Max’s interest. If Jenny had read any of her books, she’d consider sparing her life a little longer than what she was roughly thinking.
“Yeah. Publisher. I write novels. It’s how I make my money.” Well, that and years of conning people out of all their lifesavings. Really easy, once you get the hang of it, but I digress. “Well, maybe you could take me back to your place sometime and introduce me to these bands. I’d love to see your book collection.” Feeling Jenny closer to her, Max made an effort to return the favor and moved in towards the younger woman’s neck, gently pushing her hair back, before running her tongue along her soft, supple skin.
Max continued to hold back Jenny’s hair as she briefly pulled away to make eye contact with her friend, “Do you mind, if I just…” She leaned back in and tugged at Jenny’s ear with her teeth making sure not to pierce skin, and then whispered in her ear, “Have a little nibble?”
—
“Something about the rise of technology, all that tech-craze that now looks so … cute in its babyness. And the fashion was amazing, of course, and the music — Pony is good, but I’m more fond of the grunge and such.” Jenny racked her mind for the name Mercy Romero and ended up nodding, “I read a few books of hers, yes!”
She was all the more intrigued in Max now that it turned out that she worked in the industry, eagerness pushing Jenny a little closer to the vampire. “So, this Mercy Romero, is she a friend of yours?” It was always good to network. It was probably even better to network with other vampires, what with her future goals. Many of her current connections would not hold up in a few decades, but someone immortal like Max would still be around and alive. “I’ll gladly show you.” The words were said easily, but Jenny was not so sure yet about inviting another vampire in her house. She knew how to play on dates, though.
Her eyes took Max in from this angle, smiling softly. A gasp escaped her as the other tugged at her ear with her teeth, excitement rising up her chest. “I don’t mind at all,” she said, only thinking finally. Everything in life was an exchange of sorts, and once she’d given Max something of hers, she might be able to ask for something in return.
—
Technology. Max could attest to the change in technology, and what came out in the 90s definitely didn’t resemble a child to her. She had seen what man could create longer than this girl had even been an idea, but she’d let her enjoy the 90s, for what it was worth. And knowing that Jenny knew who Mercy was and of her work…Max’s work sent a chill down her spine. A fangirl, if you wanted to call her that. Maybe she’d reveal that she was the mastermind behind some of the grizzliest novels on the market. But right now, all she wanted to do was sink her fangs into Jenny’s sweet, plump skin.
When she was finally given permission, Max extended her fangs and without any hesitation, sank them deeply into Jenny’s neck and began to suck. The way the blood poured from the artery in her neck was turning Max on in more ways than one. Jenny’s blood was coppery yet sweet. Not as sweet as fae, but just sweet enough that letting go would be hard. They were in the perfect place to cover up a body after all. It was a vampire bar, and this human had been foolish enough to follow Max in.
As she continued to drink, she thought about all the delicious fun she could have with her back at her house, in the basement of course, but if she wanted to ever get there, she’d have to let the woman live. Reluctantly pulling her fangs out, she licked the blood from Jenny’s neck. It tasted much better than the drink she had gotten from the bar. It was warm and fresh, “Damn, Baby. You taste good.” Letting her tongue run around her lips, she made sure to get every last drop of her date’s blood.
—
The sting of teeth breaking skin was familiar yet painful as always, and Jenny gasped softly before she leaned into it. She had learned a few things by now. She knew how to relax herself, how to support herself so there was no strain. Some of it Philip had helped her with, but most of it she’d learned herself in the corners of Danse Macabre with a string of vampires. There was pleasure to be found if she gave herself over to it, and so she did.
And there was something to be said about offering blood like this. Maybe this was what people found fun about blood drives when they participated, but in a sexless and boring way. She was giving something of herself to another person. Jenny had written about the erotic implications of vampirism multiple times at college and so did not struggle to see the parallels, even when Max and her were still fully clothed.
She ducked her head when Max was finished, digging in her small bag to produce a small silk handkerchief, pressing it against the wounds. She’d not taken too much to make her feel unsteady, but there was definitely a noticeable difference within her. She could almost call it a bit of a high. “Happy to please,” she said, looking back up at Max. Her eyes lingered on her lips for a moment, the tongue running over them, before she made eye contact, “So, where were we?”
—
Max fully enjoyed the gasp. It was a turn on. The way people, especially the ones willing, took her fangs piercing into their skin. And even how Jenny so delicately wiped the two puncture wounds. It had been a lovely evening. Better than she had initially assumed it would be. And now that the drinking portion was out of the way, it left room to talk. If Jenny wanted to keep being her blood bag, Max could do a little small talk and date night every now and then. Keep it casual. No big deal, right? Take things at a different pace and keep laying kind of low, because she had already been on several radars.
“Life. Music. Getting to know one another better?” Max reluctantly grabbed the glass of blood she had ordered from the bar knowing it wasn’t going to be half as good as what she had just tasted, but composure would get her further than just ripping into her date and leaving her drained on a couch in a vampire bar. “So, tell me, Jenny. Why? Why let me feed off of you? Is it a fetish? A turn on? What’s the endgame here? Most people don’t just let vampires feed off of them. They usually run screaming for the hills.” She flicked her fang and grinned before taking a sip of the lackluster blood.
—
It was ill advised to be drinking before or after such bloodloss, but Jenny still reached for her glass of wine. This place was bustling with opportunity and Max had just pulled her closer to her, had given her a opportunity to get closer to the truth of her willingness to supply her neck and bleed for her. It was a sacrifice of sorts, even if Jenny did not consider Max quite worthy of full-time worship. Some worship could be allowed, as she was a senior vampire with an air to her that demanded reverie and respect she easily bowed to, but still. She hoped for the other to be a means to an end. Another powerful connection.
She chuckled a little at the way the other posed the question, putting down her wine glass and changing hands pressing down on the wound. “Not a fetish — a kink, maybe. I definitely find there’s something enticing about it. But …” Jenny lifted a shoulder, hissing slightly as the movement made her neck muscles move. The pain was less satisfying now. “It’s not just that.” Here came her proposal. She turned the words in her mouth for a moment, before continuing. “I want to be like you, eventually. I figure this is a good way to get to know the right people.” She blinked at Max. “And see if I can find a way to … well, how do you put it? To get the dark gift? Be turned? Anyway — that.”
With that said, and Max’ reply received – not a no, but a maybe, a maybe one day – Jenny sat back and let the conversation flow until the need for sleep got too strong, the blood loss taking its toll and the date coming to a natural conclusion. She went home with the promise of opportunity tugging at her lips, making her smile.
TIMING: Current
LOCATION: The Old Factory
SUMMARY: The final night of the masquerade event is coming to you live! Lots of dancing, smooching (weet woo!), and sharing of secrets to be had! Nothing nefarious at all!
NOTE: Please be sure to reblog this thread if your character is in it, and we will count it as a thread for the next Activity Check.
A masked figure stands sentry at the only unlocked entrance to the Old Factory, checking to make sure each attendee has their mask. A large chest rests on a table behind him, and whenever someone in line fails to arrive with a mask, he turns and opens the chest, seeming to give careful thought to what he reaches in to retrieve. Then he turns back to the guest and waits until they've secured the mask on their own face. These are all ornate, some more abstract in appearance while others appear to be loose representations of different animals. It's hard to say why, but when one steps through over the threshold and into the factory, one feels their sense of self shift slightly -- into something that better matches whatever new face they're wearing.
The second masked figure guests approach is the one who chooses their new name. She stares at each one with quiet consideration before plucking a name from the air and speaking it aloud -- and one cannot refer to themselves as anything but this assigned name for the duration of the evening. If one tries, they may be escorted off the premises. It's not in the spirit of anonymity, after all!
From here, guests are free to roam about the factory. There's something new to discover in every room, and music seems to twist down every hallway and fill every space that would otherwise be silent.
In the first room, a masked and cloaked figure known as THE HOST informs guests of the Unmasking Ritual that is to begin at midnight. Until then, everyone is encouraged to drink, dance, and enjoy themselves.
_____
In the spirit of the occasion, EVE had elected to wear a long dress with an equally long slit and bustle on one side. Someone who looked very closely might spy the metal and plastic casing of her prosthetic leg on the other side, but if they were looking that close, they were probably already interested. To compensate for the long fabric on her bottom half, Eve hadn't taken half measures on top, with a brown leather corset pushing up her chest under the translucent sheen of her off-the-shoulder blouse. Her hair was pinned up under a pirate hat, and a delicate gold mask covered her eyes. Henri knew the rough ideas of her costume, anyway, if only because she had persuaded him into his, but he wasn't the first person she was looking for tonight - Eve did not need anymore boyfriend allegations, thank you very much. Instead, she spotted a figure in the crowd with an interesting mask, and waltzed over to their side. "Love the costume. I'm Anne Bonny, for tonight. Who are you?"
_____
Parties like this were everything to BAZ. The large groups of people all pressed together in the crowd, the murmur of conversation beneath the booming of music, the lights and the movement… few things made the doppelganger feel more alive, more real than this. After yesterday’s events (Luc’s broken expression flashed uncomfortably in their mind), they needed this. Maybe a little too much. They pressed an intricate mask against their face, unconcerned with the way it molded to fit their skin. Every face was a mask to Baz; it didn’t matter that this one was a little more physical than most. They received a new name — Keith Snock — which they adapted to themself immediately and without hesitation. To Baz, adopting a new name was a simple thing. They did it plenty enough to know how. Sauntering into the crowd and letting distraction welcome them into its familiar embrace, they grinned. They glanced around, making note of the costumes and masks around them. “Nice turnout, innit?” They turned to the person closest to them, tilting their head slightly. “What’s your name tonight?”
_____
JENNY, or as she'd been rebranded, Bathsheba, was feeling herself as she moved through the factory. Halloween in New York was one hell of a time (nothing could top Heidi's party, after all), but Wicked's Rest was a worthy competitor! Dressed as a vengeful bride, she wore an on-theme white, lacy and blood spattered mask. The rubber axe she twirled in her hands was the perfect accessory, she thought. She trailed the room, looking for a familiar face but not recognizing a single person. She ended up approaching a very hot lady pirate, grinning as she said, "Arrrrr. What's on the horizon tonight?"
_____
Walking into the main area of the factory, ISIDORE wore a silver, ornate bird-inspired mask to cover his face. He wore a long, blue skirt with a cropped black shirt and a matching blue shrug over it, and was accessorized with a variety of silver jewelry. His ears were pointed, and his eyes shifted in the light, their typical golden iridescence. He wasn’t at all glamoured, but figured he could get away with it since it was, after all, Halloween. His long black hair cascaded past his shoulders as he swept through the room, looking for a drink. If he was going to be here alone, he might as well make it worth his while, after all. He tapped the side of his glass nervously, unsure how to navigate a room filled with people. So he decided to do what he did best, make like a wallflower.
_____
With the packed schedule that a holiday like Halloween always brought, Kieran had missed out on the first two nights of the event that had gotten his attention the week before but in the true spirit of not missing out on anything that might become the event of the season, he had made it a mission to grant this masquerade with his presence. The plan had been to scope out if this thing really was as impressive and glamorous as the claims made it out to be and, if proven true, Kieran had made it so that he'd have two nights to partake, just in case. If only the pesky rules hadn't messed everything up last night as Kieran hadn't really believed anyone would get kicked out for using their real name (he'd been proven wrong). So, there was no room for slip ups like that tonight as the faun adjusted to his new name and made sure the ornate silver eye mask that matched the shine of his cupid's wings sat properly on his face. Scanning the room, Kieran's eyes caught on a straggler trying to make themselves inconspicuous against the wall, a grin on his face as he snatched up a drink to join the elegantly dressed stranger. "You look much too nice to be hiding in the shadows," he said, taking in the quite realistic point of the man's ears, resisting the urge to reach out and touch. Maybe in a bit…
_____
ZACK didn't regret his choice in costume, not quite, it was just the strange sense that he couldn't place why he had wanted to wear it in the first place. As if someone else had picked it out for him. Maybe it had something to do with the mask that now adorned his face. He strangely felt more vulnerable and exposed but would just have to power through it. He nearly gave his true name when another masked patron asked, but quickly corrected himself, "I'm Llyr." Strange name, but he liked it. He hadn't heard before that night, of course, but something about it seemed to...fit. As if he had always been Llyr. Or maybe just that walking into this party had made him Llyr. "It does look like a lot of people came out. I'm glad, I was worried people would be too Halloween'd out."
_____
“Llyr,” BAZ repeated, letting the name roll off their tongue, smile playing on their lips. “Much lovelier than the one they’ve given me, I’m afraid. Keith isn’t very exotic, is it?” They hummed, tapping a finger against their glass. “Suppose they must have thought I was plenty exotic enough already.” They let their eyes travel up and down Llyr’s body. Even with the mask, they could tell he had a nice face. And of course, the rest of him was plenty nice as well. “Not that you’re not earning the name yourself. It suits you, but then, I’d wager most things do with an arse like that.” They grinned. "Not sure Halloween'd out is a thing people get in this town. Seems like Halloween most every day, yeah?"
_____
Staring at the mask offered and wincing a bit at the name given, BELLAMY had to wonder again why it was that he had actually agreed to go to this thing. But, here he was. So he had supposed he should ready himself to not be such a sour sport about it. Putting on a smile he slipped the raccoon adjacent mask on and accepted this momentary renaming. Now he had to be Pollux. Thankfully, the mask went with the rest of his costume. Entering the party and not saying a word, he just, quietly started to make his way over to one of the activities.
_____
It didn’t take long before ISIDORE was approached. His ears twitched at the stranger’s voice, the first hint that they weren’t as fake as they may appear to be. “I’m not good at putting myself out there when there are large crowds,” the muse admitted with a shrug, looking over toward Kieran’s direction with an easy smile on his face. “I like it better when the prey comes to me. And lo and behold, that is exactly what just happened. You fell for my carefully placed trap.” Izzy tilted his head to one side, a crooked grin on his face, though his mask concealed the raised brows. “I’m Ithandris for the evening. A pleasure.”
_____
EVE laughed at the beautiful woman dressed as a bride spattered in blood. "Now aren't you a picture?" She said with a grin, even though the words didn't quite feel her own. "Oh, I'm feeling like pillaging the drinks bar, earning myself some new jewels, and maybe getting someone over a barrel by the end of the night. What about yourself, lass? Anyone you're jilting at the altar tonight?" The words slipped out without thought, with non of Eve's usual care or subtlety. But it was fun, in a way - this newer version of her felt unshackled by lies or responsibilities.
_____
ROSEMARY plucked at the hem of her sleeve, feeling rather out of character in her gown, and brushed a hand over the black filigree of a vaguely feline mask clung to her face. Evil Queen had been a last minute pivot, but when she'd seen the black and navy costume hanging on the rack, she knew it was perfect. Besides, weren't most evil queens witches anyway? It was even better when she got assigned her name for the evening. It was strange knowing that there were people she probably knew milling about, but she was completely unable to figure out who they were. She wandered around, clinging to the walls as she observed the costumes and faces, wondering where to start her evening as Circe.
_____
"My late husband didn't think so," she said, tutting her tongue. "Now that sounds like quite the evening ...?" She paused, leaving room to hear the other's name. JENNY laughed, then, "Well, I sure am in need of a new partner, considering the awful fate that befell my poor, as I mentioned, late husband. Shall we go pillage, then?"
_____
ZACK couldn't hold back his laughter as the stranger revealed his new name for the night. "Oh, that's a rough hand to be dealt... But you're right. They must have known that you would be able to carry a name like that." He didn't miss the open appreciation for his form, but he didn't mind it either. Why else wear a costume like his? It helped him to settle some of that earlier uncertainty. "Thanks. I think the ass does help me get away with a lot." Zack turned his attention back to the crowd, a strange unease niggling at his attention, with so many unknown people milling about. But surely he had friends there, he must. "Halloween or some horror movie," he agreed. "Guess you've had some strange encounters while living here, then?"
_____
Grief, a feeling MAX wasn’t as experienced in, despite being over a century old, had become all consuming after the information she had gained on her trip to see her only remaining family members. So it was only fitting that she would put her energy into unhealthily burying any feeling of regret or sadness the best way she knew how. By being reckless and horny. So the masquerade ball was the perfect place to let the darkest parts of herself show, within reason, until the night was over.
Dressed in a classy, yet skin tight black dress with accents of red and an all black horned mask decorated in flowers created from lace, Max entered the ball where she was soon deemed Lilith, fitting for someone that was fitting to be Satan’s wife. Letting her feet carry herself through the shadows, Max’s eyes glowed red under the mask, until she had encountered someone else.
_____
"I'm not a pirate," HENRI sighed. "I'm a former amiral of the Royal Navy, which you can tell by looking at the embroidered-" Well apparently embroidered was the word you couldn't say when speaking to someone visibly here to have a good time. It was a shame, really, because he had plenty more to tell about Royal Navy uniforms. Perhaps, with a bit of luck, he'd fine someone interested in the matter though.
_____
There was always a chance that approaching someone far removed from the crowd would force an interaction with someone boring but it also held the possibility of a reward - which seemed to be the case now. Kieran’s grin was matched, even as his own grew at the idea of being called prey, adorable really. But perhaps Cornelius, as he was bound to call himself this evening, could be slightly less predatory than Kieran’s usual self. Weren’t masquerades all about stepping away from your true self? (Within reason, since Kieran had no problem with his true self). “Oh, poor me,” Kieran teased, sidling closer while keeping an eye on the rest of the crowd just in case something else exciting took place. “Apparently you should call me Cornelius for tonight. Well, for as long as you think you can keep me trapped, anyway.”
_____
Llyr laughed, and BAZ let their grin widen. Their own costume — a take on Da Vinci, with an open shirt and nothing beneath it, of course — did plenty to show off their own form as well, which they knew was going appreciated by plenty throughout the crowd. They’d caught a few looks already, and they were all but certain that they wouldn’t be going home alone tonight. That was all that really mattered to them, all they really cared about. They had no desire at all to be alone even on their best days, and the weekend they’d had had ensured that this was anything but their best. “You could get away with murder with that arse,” they agreed. “I’m certain no jury would convict you.” They made no secret of their own appreciation, leaning back a little to admire Llyr’s rear. “Oh, I’ve had my share. Who hasn’t, right? Miracle anything gets done in this town around all the drama.”
_____
TEAGAN wasn't sure how she'd been convinced to attend a party at an old factory, but free drinks and food were rather enticing. She sported a mask she made paid homage to her true form, pink gills flaring out the sides of the pale pink cover. Her dress was intricate in its lacing, but the silhouette was simple. A frame with the shoulders exposed. Walking inside, she noticed a shift but didn't pay it any mind, not even when her mask squeezed around her face. She continued through, nodding at the name Eleri she'd been given. Security measures and all that. She understood. Mystery always made for excitement. "Late husband?" Teagan rose her brows, intrigued by the blood on the woman's body. Fake, most likely. Sad. "Good for you."
_____
Her lips spread as a second, beautiful woman joined the conversation. JENNY placed a hand against her heart, trying to wipe the smile off her face. "It was a tragic thing — we only ever got so little time together. But accidents happen. Sometimes accidents are axe-shaped." She not-so-inconspicuously hid the axe behind her back. "I suppose the good for me is in regards to his fortune that befell me?"
_____
ISIDORE couldn’t help but snort at the name. “Cornelius, huh?” Isidore’s golden gaze flicked over Kieran’s form, then nodded his head once. “I suppose it suits you well enough.” The muse decided with another shrug before sipping on his drink, thinking for a moment. “And what’ll it take to keep you around, hm? There’s a lot to do if you don’t want to hold up the wall any longer. Dancing, food. Whatever’s going on in that room over there.” Izzy gave a brief smile before pushing himself off the wall. “Up to you, I’m amenable.”
_____
"Mary," EVE supplied, taking the murderous bride's hand and pressing a kiss to blood soaked knuckles. "No husband's worth the hassle, I'll tell you that much. I'm sure I can help you take your mind off him. Although, if you're planning to make me late, I've got a might nice plank for you to walk." Eve followed the bride to the bar with a grin, reaching over the counter and snatching a bottle of rum and a pair of glasses to go with it. "So what's your name tonight?" She glanced over at the newcomer, eyes wide. There was something she was supposed to be recognising here, she felt, but Eve didn't pick up what, exactly. She couldn't put her finger on it. "A happy accident for us all. Men are the true scourge of the sea."
_____
The smile, even through the mask, was encouraging and ZACK allowed himself to lean in closer to the other partygoer. Keith, apparently. "I'll bet you don't have any trouble getting juries to declare you innocent, yourself." Keith's costume was, of course, not as exposed as Zack's but did more than enough to entice. "Do you know, if you wanted to inspect my secret weapon more closely... There's gotta be some dark corners around here, right?"
_____
"Bathsheba," JENNY offered in return, finding the name absolutely hilarious. Her lips were itching to burst into a grin once more. "Now, I'm very much enjoying what you're putting down. Let me buy you both a drink with my newfound ... riches ... Would either of you like a cocktail?" They seemed interesting enough, these drinks.
_____
Moving passed some of the free spread on his way to activities, BELLAMY had sneakily snuck a treat and moved it to his mouth, biting into it as he stole some glances across the people in attendance. Chewing on his treat, he supposed he could recognize some of the costumes out there. Glad he wasn't among those being swarmed right now. Actually, forget activities for the moment. He dropped down and snuck under the table, snagging a soda and opening it as he sat under the table, sipping from the can and just people watching for the time being, amused by several of the conversations going on. Especially between the two nearest to him, a Keith and a Llyr? What a name, he thought, before taking another bite of his treat. Before moving his attention over to a few other people having a conversation nearby.
_____
Naturally, HENRI's gaze was drawn toward the woman covered with obviously fake blood. You didn't end up with that sort of splatter on your clothes stabbing someone. If you couldn't tell just how much he mourned the lack of realism behind the mandatory mask covering half his face, it all faded away as he recognized another voice there and decided, for now, to skip away from the actual pirate in the room. The sea was big enough for too renegade ship owners, surely. That would be when he heard word of a secret weapon, and failed to see the innuendo there. "A secret weapon? Reveal it now, or hope for a quick death," the not-pirate said, bringing one hand to an obviously fake sword.
_____
"Great night for causing a little destruction right?" MAX looked over towards the person, watching as they moved through the crowd to someone else. Letting out a slight hiss. She moved towards the table with drinks. She was going to need something strong if she was going to make it through the night, despite it not being her drink of choice.
_____
Conversation with Llyr quickly went exactly the way BAZ wanted for it to go. They grinned as Llyr made them the offer they’d been waiting for — an offer they, naturally, accepted with little hesitation. Dark corners were found, tongues made one another’s acquaintances, and then they went their separate ways with a loose agreement to find one another later. Baz might take him up on it. Llyr was fun, and they certainly wouldn’t mind going home with him… but they weren’t one to spend the whole party talking to one person, either. They flittered back into the crowd, finding a woman with a skintight dress… and a pirate who had evidently overheard their conversation with Llyr and missed the innuendo. The woman in the dress was more tempting, so Baz slid up next to her. “Is that what you’d call this? Destruction?”
______
Granted, it was a name that didn’t roll off the tongue quite as smoothly as KIERAN’S own but the implications of it were amusing (and maybe worrying to someone with more self-preservation) as it bore an uncanny resemblance to Cernunnos, the horned god some of Kieran’s kind looked up to. A coincidence, surely. “Everything suits me well, darling.” Polishing off the drink, he hummed thoughtfully at the question. There were certainly dark corners and activities to peruse - a charming stranger was nice but not enough to fully decide if this ball was worth the hype. “I suppose we should have a look at some of the activities before we get… distracted.” His gaze caught on yet another straggler and, in the hopes of adding to the interesting company, Kieran crouched to meet the gaze of the person currently hidden underneath the table. “Care to join us?”
____
"Axe-shaped?" TEAGAN smiled widely, tilting her head coyly. "Do you still have the axe with you? Put it against my neck next." She winked, delighted and amused. Her smile grew further at the mention of drinks. "Anything sickly sweet?"
____
MAX heard the voice as she looked at the drink options. Turning her attention to the person standing next to her, she let a slight grin spread across her face, "It can be. I'm Lilith. Who might you be? And would you be interested in a little destruction?" She looked back to the table finding the strongest option available.
____
"I'm happy with the rum, if I can't tempt you to join me," EVE replied, pouring her glass to the brim, and then necking it. "Newfound riches, you say? What kind of booty are we talking about, here?" Her eyes were briefly distracted by a fine admiral walking past, in a dainty blue coat that she wouldn't mind claiming for herself. If he thought she'd pass him by without claiming his ship, he was sorely mistaken. Eve dragged herself back to the conversation, looking at the gilled woman beside them. "You've got a taste for danger in you. I like that. What's your name?"
____
There were so many interesting costumes to pick from, ROSEMARY could hardly decide who to approach first. She decided she needed a drink, and made her way over to a table where a woman in a devilishly tight dress and matching mask was chatting with another stranger in a costume. She stood next to the woman with the devil horn mask, assessing her options. "Love your costume," She offered politely, a smile warming her face beneath the delicate black metalwork of her mask.
____
JENNY slowly revealed the rubber axe she had been hiding behind her back, placing it against the other's neck. "There! That's as close as I'll go though, I much like your neck on your body." She considered the option of rum as well as the cocktail menu. "I'll pass on the rum — I love me a little cocktail. I'll take the Special Offering ... no idea if it's weet or not."
____
Lilith. Noting the name, BAZ nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve been given a much less interesting name than Lilith for the night,” they sighed dramatically. “I’m Keith, for now. I’m leaning into it, though. Sounds a bit like a cowboy.” They dropped their voice into an impression of a southern twang, grabbing the waistband of their pants as if grabbing a belt. Which… wasn’t there, since Da Vinci had no use for a belt.
____
Ah, so the non murderous woman in the trio let her eyes wander. TEAGAN smirked. She had a good eye, even if the man walking by wasn't her preference. "Eleri, love." Her Welsh lilt grew heavy as she leaned into the fake axe. "Don't mind if you go just a bit harder." Teagan whispered, leaning playfully into the rubber toy while she perused the menu. "Eh, it's alcohol regardless. Get me a Special Offering as well." She turned looked at both women, dancing her fingers up both of their arms. "Maybe I'll make a special offering to you two later."
____
Blinking as a stranger crouched near the table, he stopped eating his treat and frowned a bit before being spoken to. BELLAMY wiggled his nose a little at this, prompting him to join them. If he had wanted to, he would have said something. But maybe he wouldn't have, actually. Sipping more from his drink, he swallowed before leaning in, crawling some on his knees, he got into the stranger's face a little. “The flirting has changed places.” He smirked a little, then, tossing his head lightly, “Hi- I'm Pollux, by the way.” Standing up then, he placed his drink on the table, staring at Kieran, “And you are?”
____
MAX watched as someone else had approached her. The night was starting to pick up, and so was the need to do bad things, "Thanks. Are you an Evil Queen? Should I be worried about losing my head tonight?" She looked back to Keith having thoughts. A cowboy and an evil queen? Did this place have beds available? "I like ridin' em doggy style? What about you, my queen? Are you into house calls with your loyal servants?" She took a sip of the drink in her hand.
____
Oh, Lilith was fun! The addition of an evil queen was also rather exciting. BAZ grinned glancing between the two. It didn’t matter to them, of course, that they couldn’t tell if they knew either of these women beneath their masks. To Baz, all that mattered was the distraction. And this party was offering plenty of that. “I could be persuaded to kneel for a queen,” they joined in with the flirting. “I do great work on my knees.”
____
Following Kieran’s gaze, ISIDORE’s eyes locked onto the figure under the table. “Now there’s a sight,” he spoke in a sing-song voice before making his way with ‘Cornelius’ to the table dweller. “Pollux, huh? Where’s Castor?” Izzy couldn’t help but say as he watched the two interact. As his name wasn't asked for, he didn't freely give it, instead clasping his hands behind his back and watching the stranger with keen interest, gold eyes boring into Bellamy's as he tried to decipher what the guy was.
____
"All the more for me," EVE said with a shrug, pouring herself another glass and finishing it just as quickly. (There would be no consequences to drinking like this, later) "What a beautiful name. I'm sure your real one is just as enchanting." Goosebumps spread along her skin as Eleri touched her, sending a chill up her spine. "I can always be tempted by a catch such as yourself," she murmured, and looked back over at Bathsheba, her finger tracing over a delicate lace sleeve. "And we ought to celebrate your newfound freedom properly, oughtn't we."
____
Feeling for a moment as if he had approached a frightened animal, the image completed by the racoon eyes of the mask, KIERAN cocked his head patiently as this hesitant stranger mulled his options before finally making (in Kieran’s humble opinion) the correct call. Smiling back, unphased by the proximity, Kieran was happy to have the temporarily named Pollux join them. “Good, flirting should know no bounds,” he assured, happy to find that Ithandris wasn’t opposed to expanding their little group. The jab on Pollux’s name was a valid one but since all of Kieran’s knowledge on the stars had been provided by the nymphs, it was knowledge he had stored away with all the rest. “Cornelius. And Ithandris here with the jokes,” Kieran added before each arm found a comfortable place wrapped around his current company’s waists, leading them towards where there seemed to be something exciting happening with fire.
____
"You got a nice name," said JENNY, who thought her old spinster name was less cool now. She waited for the cocktails to be served, then took stock of the energy between the two women. She took a sip from her drink, quick to tell Eleri: "It's sweet for sure," as she noted how similar the drink tasted of those gummies she liked. "I will be enjoying my freedom, certainly. There's an artist I'm looking for, an inventor — how about I let you two explore each other a bit? I'll be back for a dance, I promise."
She petted both women on the cheek with her axe, a soft and playful move of affection, before she circled the crowds in search for Da Vinci. She found them soon enough, standing talking with a few others. "Ooooh, good evening all."
____
ROSEMARY'S face broke into a cat who ate the canary grin. This could be fun- flirting, and mysterious strangers, and all the possibilities that the night could hold. Though the curiosity of just who was standing across from her lingered on her mind. Wicked's Rest was full of people, and she didn't go over well with all of them. But that didn't matter when she had a devil and a cowboy flirting with her. "I am- though, if you're lucky I'll let you call me Circe instead of your Majesty" The witch replied with a cat who ate the canary grin. "But If I'm looking to stay the fairest in the land, you both might have to loose your heads... pity."
____
HENRI looked over his shoulder, giving a pat on the stranger's arm to bid him farewell. There were no secret weapons, eventually, and he had just sensed something dead nearby. And of course, given the amount of people around, he knew finding them would not be an easy feat. Chances were that they were harmless, of course, and he didn't fault people for being undead but... At an event like this one? He had trouble seeing anyone as perfectly innocent. Making his way through the crowd with one glass of rum in one hand (for the historical accuracy, of course), and the other slipping into his coat to check for a stake, he approached slowly, but surely, the reason behind that creeping sensation. That is when he found someone dressed like a queen of sort too. "Who are you supposed to be? Elizabethan Era? Elizabeth herself?"
____
Circe and Lilith, what a pair. Or… a trio, it seemed, in a matter of moments. BAZ let their eyes travel to the person approaching them now. While the mask obscured her face just as well as everyone else’s, the costume was one they’d been keeping an eye out for. A bloody bride who’d killed her husband on their wedding night — they’d thought it a fun idea when Jenny had floated it to them. They flashed her a grin as she approached, letting their eyes dart up and down as they took in her costume. “Good evening,” they replied. “Seems you’ve been having a bloody good time!” Their grin widened. “What can I call you tonight?”
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"Who said it isn't?" The tone was light, and just as another drink was poured, TEAGAN snatched it up and downed it with gusto. A little competition to spark a little more edge. Then, Bathsheba was running off and Teagan made sure to lock in her promise. "I'll hold you to that." Before turning back to her company. "What say you?" She grabbed her cocktail and caressed the woman's cheek with the back of her fingers. "Shall we dance...well, I didn't catch your name. You were a bit distracting."
____
"A queen, yes, but not Elizabeth. More wicked than that." ROSEMARY held out her hand differently than she usually would, as though expecting a kiss on the top of it rather than for the newcomer to shake it. "I'm Circe, and this is, um...." She looked blankly at the devil and the cowboy
____
The night was starting to look up. If MAX could lure these two somewhere private, she'd be in business. Only nibbles of fun. No unaliving her cowboy and queen, "Circe..." She let the name roll off of her tongue as she looked back to Keith, before turning back to the queen, "It's nice to officially make your acquaintance Circe. You can call me Lilith." But it wasn't soon before someone else had joined the small circle. Covered in blood, just the way she liked them, Max put her attention the new person. The more the merrier when it came to being bad.
____
Waiting politely for Kieran to answer him, he chews on his snack only for someone else to quickly come into view with the other now. He hated masks, they made it hard to see everything properly. But, he would not complain, it was a masquerade. Masks were part of the deal. Blinking, BELLAMY grinned and gave a shy little shrug with the question of the other twin to his name, “Ah. He's… around?” He glanced to one side, biting on his lips for a moment, “Didn't see you there.” Casting a slightly shamed look to one side, Bellamy clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “You are-” Though when the other stranger had answered, giving both their names, he nodded, “Oh, nice. Ah.-” He looked between the two, then stiffened a little at the sight of fire, his head feeling light for a moment, “So, you two, like snacks? They are pretty good here, specifically that one.” He pointed to the tray of the one snack he was eating. Trying not to get close to the fire.
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"You can all call me Bathsheba, Babs for short," said JENNY, totally blanking on Da Vinci's name but knowing the costume belonged to a person she knew. "It's nice to meet you, Lilith and Circe, excellent names." How did she get stuck with the grandma one again? She sipped her cocktail, considering the dance floor. "Have you guys dared dance yet? I know this ..." She frowned in thought for a moment, trying to recognize the music, "Tchaikovsky doesn't inspire much of my usual moves, but once there's an upbeat one ...?"
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HENRI couldn't help a small smile as he heard the name. Circe ranked high in his list of favorite myths, and for that, the stranger earned herself at least some peace regarding the wicked queen comment. "Queen of Wicked's Rest then? It's an honor, your royal highness," and of course, being the absolute nerd that he was, the young man knew all about protocols and leaned down just enough to hover over that hand. "Babs,. And Lilith." Well he didn't like that last name at all. Amiral Popkin," he introduced himself. "Pleasure to meet you ladies."
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“You can call me Keith,” BAZ sighed dramatically, a bit disappointed that everyone else’s name seemed so much more exotic than the one they’d been given. Ah, well. Next time they had to choose a new name for themself, they’d be sure to find something fun. Jenny could help, since she’d doubtlessly be immortal by then. They turned to the man who’d approached, the one with an eye for historical costumes. “Mr. Popkin!” They greeted. Maybe their name wasn’t the worst one out there after all. Turning back to Babs, they shrugged. “Haven’t done much dancing yet, but I’d be happy to join in once the music picks up a bit. Unless you’d rather slow dance?” They winked.
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EVE clicked her tongue in disapproval as Bathsheba made her promise, even if she was excited to have the beautiful woman to herself. (The admiral would have to wait.) She leant her head into the touch, and then caught Eleri's hand in hers and pressed a kiss to those chilled knuckles too, sending another spine running down her spine. She couldn't deny that her body was responding viscerally to Eleri. She took a long swig of the rum. "Mary. Why not?" She pulled Eleri to the dance floor, sliding her hand around her waist, bottle still in hand. Her voice dropped low, conspiratorial. "You must know, you're as beautiful as a siren. Your voice could drive a hundred ships into the rocks."
____
Everything was happening suddenly, ISIDORE felt an arm slide around his waist as he was pulled toward the fire, only having a moment to smile politely to Bellamy before he was swept off by Kieran. "Ah, so this one is drawn to fire, duly noted." He noted aloud as his gaze followed Bellamy's point toward the snack tray in question. "Perhaps in a bit," He decided as his gaze flitted back over to Kieran, who still had yet to let go of him. Usually he'd be staunchly against physical contact, but after whatever was in that drink and the general vibe of the party, he found that he didn't care all that much. "So what's your plan now that we've gathered around the the flames, firebug?" He asked Kieran with a raised brow, which was concealed behind the mask.
____
Babs. MAX wasn't an ageist. Hell, she was older than probably most of the people in here. If Babs wanted a good time, she'd show a grandma a good time, "Babs. Sexy. It's nice to meet you too." Looking between all of her new found "friends", she grinned, "I'd love to dance." Throwing back the rest of the drink, she slammed the cup down on the table, glad that the random guy hiding had finally come out. Although she liked a good scare, she wasn't up for being deemed the bad guy tonight. She just wanted mind numbing fun.
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ROSEMARY managed to suppress a giggle at Popkin's surname for the evening. She had to suppress it for a second time as the last name in their little cohort was confirmed to be Keith. Poor Keith, getting saddled with such an unextrordinary name. She picked up a glass of champagne and took a sip, eyes darting around the masked faces. How many of the people she was talking to did she know, if any? "I think this would be a good tempo for a waltz, maybe." She mused as she listened to the music.
____
The stray he’d collected from under the table was closer to what KIERAN had expected from someone hiding out from the center of the party, their demeanour confident but apparently a front for something a bit less unafraid. Oblivious to how the fire dancing performance was the object of Bellamy’s worry, Kieran was quick to assume the sudden hesitation was simply due to the slightly overwhelming presence of two tall and handsome strangers. “There’s plenty of snacks to be had later,” Kieran tacked on to Isidore shutting down the notion of returning to the snack table, giving Bellamy what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. “Well - what’s Pollux interested in doing besides going back for more snacks?” Kieran asked, amused by his new nickname as he turned the question over to the most nervous of their trio.
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TEAGAN exhaled shakily, entranced. With her drink her free hand, she downed the rest and set the cup down as she was taken to the dance floor. She draped her arms over Mary's shoulder and tangled a hand in her hair while the other cupped the back of her neck. She shivered as Mary's breath danced playfully against her skin, and she chuckled, only slightly miffed by the comparison. How would Mary know that sirens were beneath Teagan? She couldn't blame her. "Mm...yours may be the only ship sinking tonight." A subtle tug pulled into her voice as she hummed along to the music, notes melting together and the two swaying along. "You wouldn't deny me the pleasure of that victory, would you?"
____
JENNY was glad that there were others saddled with unfortunate names like Popkin and Keith, figuring Babs at least had a cool indie, vintage vibe. "Doesn't my name just ooooze sex appeal? If you're unconvinced, I'll show you all that I've got in store besides my old lady name." She took one last sip from her cocktail before abandoning it half finished. Jenny grabbed Da Vinci's hand and dragged them (with the others in tow, she hoped) onto the dance floor, "So, Waltz?"
____
"I do agree that's perfectly adequate for a waltz," not that he was much of a dancer, but it couldn't be that different from wrestling with a feral zombie. At least, HENRI was certain it was not harder than that, and he wasn't scared of stepping on any toes, at the very least. And since Babs was now dragging them toward the dance floor, he supposed he had no other choice but to agree to it. Or refuse and dislocate a shoulder in the process. Decision, really. "May I have this dance then, my Queen?"
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“I don’t think you need the name for that, love,” BAZ replied, “but I’d love to see what else you’ve got.” They abandoned their drink beside the one Babs set aside, more interested in getting out onto the dancefloor than they were in getting drunk. The buzz they’d get from proximity to someone else was better than anything alcohol could offer them, anyway. They followed Babs out to the dancefloor, putting their hands around her waist. “I think I remember how to waltz. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks if I don’t.” They winked. Of course they knew how to waltz, but… sometimes it was a bit of fun to let someone else take the lead.
____
MAX turned to the Evil Queen as it looked like Keith had snagged Babs. Fucking cowboys. "Care to dance? I can do vertical or horizontal. Your preference. I'm not picky." Max was just longing for someone to help ease her pain. The hole in her chest was growing by every minute, and she needed a fix.
____
The weekend had been a haze of drinks, parties and proximity, and JENNY was quick to answer Keith's touch. A waltz had a level of polite intimacy that she was keen to push into. "I'll try my hardest." She didn't know all the exact steps, but she knew how to guide someone on a dance floor. She also knew how to make that medieval (was a waltz medieval?) distance as something from the past, and pressed close. "Don't step on my toes. I wouldn't want you to end up like my husband."
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ROSEMARY was about to say yes to the offer to dance from Popkin, when there was Lilith, offering a dance (though the kind of dance was very up to interpretation). She reached out and took Popkin’s hand before turning back to Lilith with a lopsided smile beneath the feline features of her mask. “He beat you to the draw, I’m afraid. You can have the next one, if you want?” Rosemary offered.
____
BAZ leaned into their dance partner’s touch hungrily, letting it spark fire over their exposed skin. This was exactly the sort of thing they’d come to this party for, exactly what they’d needed. They didn’t have to think about any of the things they were pretending didn’t weigh heavy on their chest, didn’t have to remember Luc’s broken expression or Sebastian’s broken neck. They could dance, and everything could melt away. This was what parties were for! “Something tells me you’re not one to fail when you’re trying your hardest,” they said, voice low beside Babs’s ear. They let the music move through them, dancing with some skill. (Their father had made sure they knew the basics of this, of course; you never knew when a dance might come in handy.) “Don’t worry about me, love. I’m not looking to wind up like your dear late husband… but I’m happy to take his spot in your bedroom tonight.”
____
EVE pulled Eleri closer to her chest, exhaling sharply as fingers tangled in her ear. The voice in her ear was especially enticing. Maybe the woman in front of her was a siren, destined to pull Eve to her doom. The thought gave her pause, like there was something she should be paying attention to, but not for long. She wasn't a ranger, and this wasn't the night for fear. Mary didn't worry about being predated. "Victories have to be earned," Eve murmured, then pulled Eleri in for a heated kiss. "But I could be persuaded to go down for you."
____
MAX could feel an anger welling up inside of her, but this was not the time nor place to make a scene. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced a smile on her face, "Sure. Come find me later." Turning around, she snatched a bottle from the table and moved away from the crowds. Maybe she could find someone who was all alone, like herself. They'd be easiest to consume, especially since her rule of not eating anyone just flew out the window. Being left by everyone for someone else had been a stark reminder about just how alone she was. Fuck these people and fuck this dance. Finding a dark corner where she blended into the shadows, she began consuming the liquid lying in wait for someone unsuspecting, her eyes once again glowing red through her mask and truly the only thing visible.
____
The body had needs and JENNY was always hunkering for this — proximity and approval, sweet nothings whispered in her ears. She'd found herself entangled in sheets in the hope to feel grounded within herself and now her she was once more, entangling herself with another. Her fingers trailed up, trailing the soft of Keith's ear and sliding down their earlobe, "I'm a determined woman," she mused, "Which sometimes benefits my partners and sometimes does not. So far, as my dancing partner, I intend to slot you into the former category." She blinked at him through her mask. "I never got to experience my nuptial night the way I wanted ... what with the accident and all. I am curious, what it'd be like, to finally grace my wedding bed properly."
____
It was silly, BELLAMY thought, he had never been averse to fire before things started to go strangely lately. Now he just wasn't its biggest fan. When the other stranger spoke, he moved a hand up to fidget with his eye, rubbing a hand into his face and nodding, “Seems so.” Watching the fire show, he felt prickly. His mouth was watering slightly as he locked onto something else. Before he looked again at the one who called himself Cornelius. Seeing as the pair were not interested in the snacks, he laughed lightly and gestured smoothly toward the activities, “I guess I was thinking of heading toward the metalworking or glassblowing things going on that way.” Smiling toward the two, then, he claps his hands together, holding them down as he did, “You two have any other ideas?” He glances at the fire, then away again.
____
With a polite smile, HENRI put his hand in Circe's and placed the other at her waist, and perhaps was the only in the room attempting to dance a proper waltz. Attempting being the correct term here. As the other took off, he noticed the tingle fading away and the slayer smiled at the realization. Lilith. Noted. Now he had a queen waiting for a dance, he supposed, and so he led the way, eyes attempting to retrieve a trace of the obviously scorned undead woman as they spun around the room. "Not very patient," he commented. "So Circe? How do you feel about your given name for the night?"
____
Something was amusing about Pollox’s nervousness. And admittedly, it was nice to know that it wasn’t ISIDORE himself who was the bumbling fool – it usually was. But as the man gained his footing, the muse immediately clung to the idea of doing something creative. Glassblowing?! Here!? “I want to do glassblowing…” The muse trailed off, golden eyes searching around for the activity, suddenly forgetting that he was currently with people, one of whom was keen on flirting with him. Leave it to Izzy to completely lose sight of the goal and want to craft instead.
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BAZ pressed their body closer to hers, so close now that it felt difficult to tell where one ended and the next began. Her voice thrummed through them, and their chest vibrated with a quiet hum. “I’m sure we can find a way to ensure we’re both benefitted nicely,” they said lowly. “I’m certain I can solve your wedding night blues. Nothing sadder than an unused bed, is there? We’ll have to do something about that.”
____
She did not remember who from her life was behind the Da Vinci costume. That mattered little. She had felt a need to see them, and now she did. "There certainly is quite a bit we can do about that," she murmured, hand now pressing against their cheek. Suggestiveness got them so far, but JENNY felt enthralled by her urge for escapism in another person and leaned in for an entrée, lips hovering suggestively above the other as if asking for permission.
____
Her smile faltered as she watched Lilith storm off as she let Popkin twirl her off into a waltz. Well, maybe Lilith would take her up on it later… ROSEMARY turned her attention back to the masked man leading her in a waltz. “Hmm. Sorceress who turns men who trespass on her isle into pigs. Befitting for an evil queen, I think. Don’t you?”
____
THE HOST is preparing to speak...
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Oh, KIERAN definitely had plenty of ideas on how best to spend an evening. It was an enjoyable thing, the way everyone seemed the practically be under the influence of a faun already, most everyone chatting happily or dancing provocatively - the simple magic of a mask, it seemed. “Well, I don’t always tend to follow the crowd but in this case…” Kieran looked towards the growing crowd of people on the dance floor, always prepared to let off some excess energy, even with the music changing as eclectically as it was during this ball. But it seemed his company, both of them, were more keen on finding other uses for their hands. Fine, plenty of hours left in the night for different kinds of activities. And other sorts of blowing. Besides, Kieran had never tried his hand at this particular hobby, perhaps he'd be excellent at it. “Sure. Glassblowing,” he agreed.
____
Her lips hovered just above theirs, and BAZ wasted little time in closing the space between them. Talk was cheap; action was much nicer.
____
Crowds be damned, TEAGAN returned the kiss with fervor, pulling Mary as flush to her as she could mid dance. Her trap was set and snapped, a victorious smile curling her lips. "That was victory enough to me." She nipped at Mary's jaw gently while a hand traveled to her abdomen. A chuckle escaped her, feeling what she could only assume were costume knives. Although they felt a little real. She admired the dedication to realism. "Are those knives or are you that enticed? Not an axe, but..." Teagan hummed, "I could be swayed to enjoy it at my throat. "
____
(You may engage with the next part of this masquerade at your leisure! We just want to share it before the end so everyone gets time to do so! Time is wibbly wobbly, etc.)
Twenty seconds to midnight, the music stopped. Silence hung heavy in the air for a few moments, and then the loud tolling of a bell rang through every inch of the factory -- this was the signal for the Unmasking Ritual. THE HOST stood in the main area on a pedestal that lifted them above all the rest of the guests, their hands held high in the air. When the crowd had gathered, they lowered their hands.
"Friends," they spoke in a voice that boomed louder than it should have, without the obvious presence of any kind of microphone. "Tonight is the final night of gathering, so please join us on this most auspicious of nights in the last Unmasking Ritual of the season!" They swept their hands over the crowd, beaming beneath their mask in a way that somehow felt... sinister.
"You might have noticed, if you dared to try, that you have been unable to remove your masks. That they have become a part of you, and imbued you with an altered sense of self. We ask now that all of you -- and we do mean all -- find the person closest to you." THE HOST paused, waiting. "Take their hands. Now, in order to rid yourself of the weight of this mask and its personality, you must tell them your greatest secret, fear, or deepest desire. Unburden yourselves of these things, and you may then remove your masks. Continue to hide, or try and speak falsely..." The other masked figures that had floated in and out of the crowds all night formed a circle around all of the guests now. There was no need to speak the rest aloud, their presence making the gravity of this situation all too real.
One might wonder what the masked figures were getting out of this, but one shouldn't dwell on it too long. They don't take kindly to being perceived in that way.
____
Tonight RAUL was the Deerius, or so the masked figure had told him. Wearing a horned mask that combined the features of a Jack of Diamonds playing cards and Bambi’s Dad, Raul the Deerius entered the factory and turned his diamond teardrop face around to take in the menagerie. Folks seemed to be having fun, creating a weird blend of bubbly mystique. Raul went to get himself some liquid courage before taking on this Industrial-punk Clue scene.
____
JENNY kissed Keith with the same hunger she kissed many strangers in bars or clubs. Though there was something, perhaps, that made this more enticing, but she was far too invested to investigate such a thing. She pulled back when a voice boomed through the room, eyes pulled towards its source. She giggled as she took Keith's hands, following the host's instructions, and then heard her giggle falter as the next instruction followed. Fear was no uncommon emotion for her, no matter how she denied herself from feeling it. Her deepest desire was plain to her, though best not spoken aloud. Her greatest secret was tucked close to her chest. "Wow," she said. "Going from first base to ... thousandth? Do you want to go first?"
____
HENRI nodded along, definitely appreciating that she was aware of the meaning behind that name. "I wonder ..." But then the host was cutting him off, and there came the realization that this was once again not a normal night. Eyes growing wider, Henri looked at the woman whose hand he was holding. A complete stranger, who was now meant to hear his darkest secret. Well, now all he could hope for was that he wasn't paired with a police officer. Or anything like that. A lawyer would be ideal, really. "Well I lost a chance to stay at home tonight, didn't I?"
____
A voice boomed through the room, revealing the twist of the evening. To take off the mask, there had to be honesty. It could have been disastrous for someone like BAZ, who danced around the truth so flippantly. But while they did not know Babs’s name, they knew she was someone they trusted. They knew the costume belonged to someone they cared about, who cared about them. “Well,” they breathed, “I think we’ve already put desire out there, haven’t we?” Though they weren’t naive enough to think that saying they’d like to sleep with a woman they’d just been engaged in a makeout session with would be quite enough to satisfy this particular requirement. Greatest fear, greatest secret, greatest desire. What did Baz mind letting go of the least? “My desire, they said lowly, their lips against her ear, “is to be remembered.” Which was the same, they supposed, as being loved.
____
MAX continued to drink away her sorrows, until someone had drunkenly slipped into the shadows. The person wasn't aware of her presence, and the loud, booming voice had seemed to catch their attention more than the vampire lurking right next to them. Before they could even attempt to flee Max quietly slipped over and wrapped her arms tightly around them and grabbed their hands whispering in their ear, "Speak one word, and I will slaughter you. My secret...I abandoned my kids, the biggest regret of my life, and I take pleasure in torturing my victims before I eat them..." Feeling the mask release and drop to the floor, she moved her arms up and wrapped them tightly around the strangers neck, giving a sharp twist, "Consider this a mercy..." Before exposing her fangs and sinking them deep into he person's skin consuming their blood. When she had finished, she let them drop to the floor and ran her arm across her mouth. Knowing she had just spoken her biggest regret out loud seem to hurt even more forcing her to hold down the scream she was dying to let out. Now, she had to escape.
____
The host spoke and suddenly ROSEMARY’S hopes for a nice evening crashed and burned. Her darkest deepest secrets, to a complete stranger. The witch stared at her partner in wide eyed terror. Was there any way out of saying what had to be said? “It seems we both did.” She said uncomfortably. “So who wants to go first?” She asked, the humor in her voice limp and dead.
____
The hand around Eleri's waist began to slide further down as Eleri grinned against EVE's lips. She hummed as teeth nipped against her skin, and giggled at the question. She leant in, pressing kisses down Eleri's throat. "Can't it be both?" She asked, and sighed in disappointment as the host began to speak. Eve stiffened as the masked figures surrounded the dance floor. Her jaw tightened as he explained. She had no desire to spill her heart to anyone in town, least of all a stranger, but there would be people who wouldn't comply, which would mean there would be people in danger. Eve had no idea how many hunters were in the room, but there was only one way to do her duty here. She hunted through the locked boxes in her mind, and eventually stumbled on one she hoped was worthy, and hoped it would be gibberish to the woman in her arms. "I think hunting fae and secrets has stripped away my humanity," she breathed quietly.
____
At first, it seemed like an amusing entertainment, another activity of sorts like the glassblowing the trio had been partaking in with surprising enjoyment on KIERAN’S part (Cornelius liked to craft, it seemed). It didn’t take long for it to become clear that this was no entertainment and ass much as Kieran disliked being told what to do, he was even less fond of the idea of being stuck here, and with a mask permanently stuck to his face? That was the real tragedy. Isidore spoke first and yes, there was a plan. One secret for another - well, two for the price of one in this case. Mutually assured destruction. Nodding slowly, unused to the gentleness of handholding but allowing it for the purposes of whatever this was, Kieran figured he had nothing to be ashamed of, right? “My greatest desire is to be worshipped, unconditionally,” he said simply, as if it should have been obvious, really. Nevermind neither of them knew why he deserved such a thing (which he did). As the words left his lips, Kieran felt the tightness of his mask loosen and he grinned, ready to receive secrets or desires to keep for himself.
____
Raul’s mind raced with formulae of severance and quantum disjunction as his fingers toyed with the edge of his mask. The mix of deer fur and painted porcelain was now unnervingly warm to the tough. His fingertips strayed on the edge but found no seam, no point of separation between the gaudy carnival mask and his own living skin. Raul’s unfocused thoughts couldn’t help admire the Host’s handiwork, starting to wonder how a curse of grafting transmutation could have been imbued in the mask with a precisely timed tactile discharge….wait…he shouldn’t be thinking about that. This was serious. Focus! Gah!
____
It was strange, this magic. A bit cruel, though JENNY did not look down on cruelty as strictly as some others. She pondered her options. Secret, desire, fear. When Keith spoke, she found her answer. She cocked her head slightly, rubbing her ear against their lips after they'd finished speaking. What a mirror their desire was with her biggest fear. Now she leaned closer. "My biggest fear is not amounting to anything and dying forgettable, a failure and a blip. Nothing." She felt her mask still on her face, tight and uncomfortable. Jenny inhaled, then corrected: "No, what I think I fear most is that this has already come to be. That I am nothing. That there is no success in wait for me. That my potential has already left me, if it was ever there at all." Her mask felt loose now, but she remained hidden in the crook of Keith's neck, staring at their earlobe.
____
The mask felt looser on BAZ’s face, though they did not reach up to remove it. Instead, they brought their hands up gently to Babs’s mask when she finished speaking, gently lifting the plastic away from her features. The moment they lifted the mask away, familiarity soaked back into their chest, and they offered her a small smile. Jenny. Of course. “You’re not nothing,” they told her quietly. “And the best isn’t behind you. You’re going to do great things, J. I’ve always known that.”
____
When the other seemed sated with the idea of glassblowing, BELLAMY could almost sigh. He was sure they were going to have fun at it, though. He watched them for a moment before looking again, from Isidore to Kieran, who didn't seem as enthusiastic as the other had about this activity. He wondered if he had ruined the mood happening here. He wasn't really sure, what the mood was. He wasn't much of a flirter, even if he was enjoying the flirting going around. Bellamy moved to follow the two, only for a voice to cut in. Glancing up toward it, he listened, though felt a little unmotivated to obey. A growing feeling to disobey actually started to take over his attempt at worry. Only growing more so when Isidore spoke. Just to be pushed down yet again, quickly. A smirk formed over his lips, a flash of purple moved over the pupils of his eyes before warm brown eyes became a pitch black color, “How horrific?” It asked, Bellamy's voice almost sounding like multiple then, It wasn't hard for it to divulge Bellamy's secrets or desires, because it thought that Bellamy's secrets and desires and worries he kept hidden were stupid. He listened to Kieran's desires and laughed a bit, then said, “I want to live. That's my secret. Next!” It slapped Bellamy's hand into Isidore's playfully, in a childish way, distractedly even. Moving his other hand to make Kieran's entire arm wiggle, It's gazes looking on curiously at this motion before giggling. Body's were so weird, it thought.
____
HENRI gave the woman's hand a slight squeeze, because he could see the terror in her eyes now, a look that he had had the misfortune to see too many times already. He was 25 and he had seen more people die in those years than most people could in a life time, or two, or ten. And that had taken its toll on his psyche, and each day that went by, the hunter wondered how many would become too many for him to handle. Because he was doing all he could to save as many people as he could, but that came with coating his hands with blood and the subsequent dessication of his heart in the process. The slayer gave a weak smile, because that was all the reassurance he could give her now. "It'll be okay." It wouldn't. He had to tell her something he pushed away to the confines of his mind. "I ... Sometimes I fear I'll lose myself, that my sense of morality will slip away and I'll cross a line and... I won't even feel sorry about it." It was one thing to be in pain with each person he couldn't save, and another to execute someone he knew to be guilty in cold blood. What if the line blurred and... And who would he be then?
____
Keith pulled away her mask with a softness she felt was an unfitting (but welcome) response to her confession. JENNY looked at them, pulling away their own mask and finding Baz standing there, smiling at her and speaking with the confidence they always reserved for her. "Oh," she chuckled, "It's you." She'd kissed plenty of friends before, but she'd always known who they were. It was hard not to be a little bit flustered, though it felt an awful lot like giddiness too. "Thank you. And you? B, you will be remembered. There's too much genius in you not to be. The world will see soon enough."
____
The man interrupted the fun and TEAGAN listened intently, stomach dropping harshly at the rules. She bristled, trembling with her arms still around Mary. Then, the woman spoke, and when the truth spilled out, acid built up in Teagan's throat. She was proud of herself for luring in a hunter, but she was ashamed to have kissed the enemy. Her arms loosened and she took half a step back, eyes widened and teary. Without thinking, she blurted out her own confession, feeling the rot inside her peel away. "I'm terrified I'm just like the wardens who massacred my family. That the grief will be this incurable thing and my loneliness is inevitable due to my own self-destruction." Teagan hiccuped, chin trembling and mask loosening. She didn't notice. "I don't want to be like them." Killing indiscriminately due to what someone was rather than who they were, without hesitation. Perhaps that was why, through a wild amount of will power, Teagan remained tangled with Mary, fighting against the urge to rip out her throat. She could be different, couldn't she?
____
ISIDORE felt his mouth go dry as the two gave their answers, watching as the masks loosened on their faces. Oh, so they got away with this Scott free, and he was stuck revealing the one thing that could damn him forever? His gaze fell to the ground as he struggled to give the words a voice. He couldn't look either of them in the eyes as he finally opened his mouth to speak. "I fell in love with the wrong person and it lead to the death of over half of my people. I'm the reason they died." He finally said, and the mask loosened, but the words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't dare to remove the mask now. They couldn't know who he really was, not after that admission. He quickly let go of their hands, and turned away, looking for the exit. No way was he staying, not after saying that.
____
The mask was lifted away from their face, and it felt almost strange to be without it. BAZ was always wearing a mask of some sort or another but here, with their greatest desire floating in the air and Jenny’s own vulnerability tangled up beside it, they felt barer than they ever had before. “It’s me,” they said softly, “and it’s you.” They breathed out a quiet sigh as she reassured them, something warm curling pleasantly around them. They would be remembered, and Jenny would be great. Both things had been spoken into existence, and so both would be true. Baz dropped the mask they’d pulled off of her to the floor, letting their hands find her waist again. “No reason why we can’t keep dancing.”
____
All around them, distress seemed to be growing and KIERAN even took notes of tears and gasps of shock. As much as he had a flair for the dramatics, this wasn't exactly the faun's speed. At least this part of the event would be over with soon and they could move on - and lucky Kieran that he'd found a group that wasn't so emotional. Bellamy told his desire, which was a very valid desire indeed and one that only made Kieran's grin grow, barely paying attention to the irises shifting colors or the very obvious change in attitude. Both pairs of eyes then turned to Isidore and oh... well, two out of three wasn't bad. To his credit, the pointy eared stranger didn't burst into tears as he spoke, revealing what sounded like a very human mistake indeed. They really were so quick to fall for the false allure of love. Before Kieran could comment on it, make an attempt to bring the rest of the trio back to the smiling enjoyment, Isidore was off. Kieran clicked his tongue as the man vanished, pulling off his mask. "Well then." He turned back to the remaining company, hands still linked as he raised his eyebrows. "I need another drink and then a dance. You're welcome to join me or go live somewhere else."
____
MAX had to escape. She had to leave, before the party ended. Hopefully the fascination by the reveal of so many secrets would distract them from her presence. And the only way she could flee is with the mask that lay on the floor cracked on one side. Pulling it up to her face, she looked around for the easiest way out. With a clear path to the door, as long as no one got in the way, Maxine made a beeline for her escape route making sure to prove to the looming figures that she had confessed in order to pass by all of them. The warehouse was becoming a winding maze, but she had almost made it when she felt her body slam into someone. With a hiss, she glared straight into their eyes, before escaping, not realizing the person she had locked eyes with was a slayer. But without any further hesitation, she found her way out into the cold autumn air and away from anyone nearby, only to let out a heartbreaking wale sucking in air almost feeling suffocated by the night's events.
____
Raised in an environment of obsessive secrecy, RAUL generally saw divulging personal information the same way others might regard the prospect of cutting off their own hand and offering to swap with a random homeless guy. He initially dismissed the Host’s pronouncements of Phantom of the Opera sharing time, instead scanning the inside of the factory rooms for anything that could be jury rigged into ritual reagents. Unfortunately this party was depressingly short on Kershag hair or Squonk slime. Also it was looking like the togetherness cure for mask fusion was…working. Knowing that logically he should be relieved about this, Raul sighed. “Alright, time to TMI some poor sod” he said, and started ambling up to find someone to do mask therapy with.
____
It stares around at some of the people around them, sneering a bit as it brought it's attention back around to Isidore and exasperated audibly to Isidore's secret, “Okay. And?” Gripping onto Isidore's hand, it yanked Isidore back just as he was walking away, “People die. It's what they do.” It knew that very well, having killed a great many people in it's time. It was like nothing to it. Reaching up with his free hand, however, it yanked the mask off BELLAMY's face and tossed it at one of the masked people with the host, “This was so fun!” It shouted toward them with a cute little wave before looking back toward Kieran, standing straight and excitedly, “I could do plenty, the nights still young!” Leaning in toward Kieran as it hopped a little where it stood.
____
How strange, that the universe would work in such a way as to pair her with someone who she could understand, and who might in turn understand her. ROSEMARY gave their hand an understanding squeeze, and the corner of her mouth turned up in a sympathetic smile. “I’ve known people utterly devoid of morals. I’ve known them very well. The fact that you’re afraid of crossing that line one day is a good sign. It means you’re not a bad person. Plenty of people do bad things for good reasons… if you have a guiding star, hold on to it. It can be helpful.” The witch sighed. “My turn I guess.” She tried to puzzle together a way to phrase what she had to say without revealing everything. “I… got rid of someone. In an attempt to save someone close to me. And I… don’t feel bad about what I did to him. Not even a bit. He deserved what he got. The thing that bothers me about it is that no matter how hard I tried to do what had to be done, no matter what I do, every time I prove I’m not good enough to do it alone. And what’s worse is, that means the people who told me I’d never measure up were right” she slipped off her mask reluctantly and shrugged, ready to sprint. “And now you know.”
____
Empty promises and assurances that she would amount to something had been made before, but JENNY somehow believed it more coming from Baz. Perhaps it was the comfort she'd felt before they'd even unmasked, or the vulnerability they'd offered before. But she did. "No reason indeed," she said, discarding her fake axe on a nearby table so she could hold Baz properly, ready to dance the night away. She might be pulled away by a promise later on, but for now her focus was on her friend who'd unmasked her so sweetly and who knew exactly how to sing her praises right.
____
The muse went rigid and gasped as the stranger, who was once nervous, suddenly became excitable. "Yes, people... die. Right." ISIDORE bit at his lower lip, trying to push the guilt that he felt deep down until it was buried. He finally took off his mask, showing his face to the two who brushed off his secret as if it were nothing. Like it didn't weigh on his conscience and drive him to hide when he could flourish. "Well if that's all you two are going to say about something that's haunted me for..." he trailed off before he admitted it had been almost forty years. He didn't know who he was with, he wasn't going to out himself that hard. "Fine, yes. We can dance. But... I will take you up on the offer of another drink, I think I need several after that."
____
Whatever fear bubbled inside Eleri had her trembling, so EVE just held her, until Eleri stepped away. Even behind the mask, she saw Eleri's eyes widen with fear. Eleri's words punched her in the gut, but she kept her expression carefully schooled. Eve reached for her own face, and pulled away her mask (or at least this one). The pirate's bravado faded as the goosebumps down her spine revealed themselves for what they truly were: the itch of a fae's wings trying to sprout from her shoulders, and the proof of what Eleri was. Despite her words, Eleri did not let go, but after a moment, Eve did. (It would be so easy, and so messy. She could turn herself to iron, and it would kill the nyx eventually, but it would be excruciatingly painful, and loud. It would be cruel. Eve did not want to be cruel. Even if that melodic voice had felt like it was pulling her in. The thought made her feel sick.) "I guess it's a good thing we didn't get to the knife play portion of the evening," she said with a soft, apologetic smile, hoping she could play nice, that she could persuade Eleri to let her leave to protect anyone else in danger tonight. "I didn't know. This wasn't me luring you in." She looked around. It didn't look like anyone was failing the test yet, but that didn't reassure her. She wanted to be closer to the top, and perhaps closer to the host, in case the host tried anything else. The secrets spilled tonight had to stay secret, after all. "I have to go," she told Eleri, and wondered if she would be allowed to leave, or if she'd have to fight off that sickly melody.
____
Mary pulled back, revealing her true face. TEAGAN reached for her own, fingers just barely grazing the plastic until she thought better of it. Mary was still a hunter, after all. She could be playing a game, though her eyes were spelling out a different story. If her confession freed her of her mask, that had to mean something too. She half-heartedly chuckled at the knife play remark, then admitted, "I didn't mean to lure you in that way either. It was supposed to be...fun. For both of us." It still could be, but Teagan kept that to herself. Mary was stepping away, and unlike so many hunters she'd encountered, Teagan let her go, sulking and walking away to find a seat against a far away wall.
____
That would be HENRI's luck, to wind up being paired with someone who suffered from something that he found acceptable. To take a life to save another. The very purpose of a hunter. A good hunter, one who still knew of duty and morals, and could do what was necessary even if it was not the easy thing to do. Weight lifted off his shoulders and he reached out to pull the woman into a hug, because he couldn't do much more now, and because he already had to go and so did his persona for the evening. "I must go," he pulled away to look her in the eyes. "But trust me when I say you're not a bad person. You tried to save someone's life and now, I must do the very same thing, because that's what I do." Save a life, end a life. The mask slipped from his face and he adjusted the tricorn on his head as he zeroed in on the woman attempting to flee, visibly in a hurry, their glowing red eyes all he needed to be aware of now. That masked host be damned, Henri was now on a whole other mission.
___
“Helloooo citizen…..” DEERIUS wait no…RAUL said as he approached Teagan, sweeping into a dramatic bow that scratched stag horns on the flow. “So I realize this is an awkward time and your mind is likely roiling with whatever personal stuff got dredged up by the worst party game ever buuuuuut.” Raul righted himself, cervine-shaped eyeholes with poker diamond teardrops turning to regard Teagan. “While I’ve totally considered running off to be a weird deer cryptic forever…I mean who doesn’t these days? Wouldn’t blame you.” The sorcerer rambled, fighting off intrusive thoughts from his mask that suggested it belonged to a persona that was more Hills Have Eyes, than friendly Canadian cartoon. “But my brother doesn’t have a hunting license and I’ve got stuff to finish up, and you’re here conveniently wallflowering. So can I tell you some contextless personal trauma so I don’t need to go get a new divers license photo?”
____
"It was," EVE lied flawlessly, as if her skin wasn't crawling. She ducked her head, and wove her way through the crowd. The admiral (which Eve now remembered had to be Henri) was gone, and she couldn't see any other hunters in the room, so this would have to be a solo mission. Eve pushed the memory of the warmth of that kiss deep inside her chest, and let the itching fade as she approached where the Host stood. "Hey there handsome." she greeted the masked figure, "I'd offer you some of this rum, but I stole it while your magic made my head all piratey. I'll pay for it, don't worry. I saw you haven't had anyone to share a personal secret with. I thought I'd come and offer my services, so you can take that uncomfortable mask off too."
____
THE HOST turned to look at the woman who had wandered over, the solemn expression reflected in the lower half of his face lightening ever so slightly as she tried to ply something out of him. "No need." The whisper of a smile fell away again and he looked away from her, staring back out over the crowd. Some guests seemed to have been brought closer together by the unmasking, others... others fled. So it always went. This town was no different. And, as it sometimes happened, someone like this woman would try and take back control. It never went well for them, of course, but THE HOST was not a barbarian. She would be given another opportunity to do the right thing.
"You are... kind for offering. But I have no secrets, no desires." The circle of similarly masked figures drew in closer, the ones nearest him seeming to laser focus on this conversation. "We have only hunger." He turned his head to look at Eve again, and this time, a wide smile spread across his face. "You may leave, if you have exhausted your desire to remain. You..." He paused, seeming to consider something for a moment. "... spoke truthfully. A shallow truth, perhaps, but still acceptable." The other figures drew in closer, looking ready to pounce despite their posture remaining stiff.
____
This time, it was a real chill running down her spine, as the figure looked right past her. EVE fought the urge to look over her shoulder. Her spine tensed as another came closer, matching his own intensity. Usually, a cult leader was a little more giving than this, but every word of his aimed directly at her felt like ice pressing in to her chest. Nothing had no secrets nor desires, and yet his words rang true in a way Eve's never had. This was a problem; Eve relied on both to get her way. There was nothing here for her to leverage, and everything here to lose. He looked right at her and damned her heartfelt secret, and Eve took a step away, exhaling slowly. "What can I say? I'm a pretty shallow person." Eve shrugged, eyes flicking to the other figures drawing around her. She took another step back, hands in the air. "Can't blame a girl for trying, especially when I'm the one mopping the floor tomorrow morning. But I can read the room, don't you worry. Have a lovely rest of the night."
I know you're going to take this the wrong way, but:
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Babe, I have such a song dedication for you. Click here for your surprise! And whoever originated this message, all they're doing is turning me on. I'd like to see them try and stop me from having a dry Cocktober. In fact, this entire season has been unusually wet. So are you going to be my thot-o-ween treat or what?
Time: Around the twins birthday in October.
Content Warnings: Parental death tw, Child death tw, Sibling death tw, Infidelity tw
"One minute, I held the key. Next the walls were closed on me. And I discovered that my castles stand. Upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand." - Viva la Vida by Coldplay
It had become routine for Maxine. She had the date memorized. Engrained into her brain. The date the twins were born. Delores and Antonio. The two children she didn’t want, but had out of a deal made with her husband. Yet, what Maxine didn’t expect to happen was to fall madly in love with the two children cradled in her arms the day she had them. Nearly a year of all the pains that came with growing a life inside of her and the immense pain that came from giving birth. Delores expected, but Tony, a surprise. Never would she admit it though. She had a reputation to uphold and the excitement of life was out there waiting for her. Not being bogged down by two screaming and crying children who couldn’t take care of themselves. There was a nanny for that, and Maxine made sure to utilize that option more than she knew she should have.
But the day she died. The day that her entire life flashed before her eyes, there was one image that seemed to stick with her…Delores and Tony wrapped tightly in her arms. Safe with their mother. Eyes still closed, but soft coos escaping small, pink lips. However, waking up with a second chance given to her by the woman she was having an affair with meant that going back and trying to make things right with her children was out of the question. Maxine was technically still dead. She had even attended her own funeral. Closed casket of course, because the aftermath of the gunshots had been too gruesome to witness, especially for the children. But from afar, Maxine watched as her children held on tightly to their father’s hands; quiet tears streaming down their little wind bitten cheeks. Another moment that Maxine would hold onto with the deep ache of regret for being who she was.
“Excuse me…” The words floated into Max’s brain and swam around a bit before oozing out the other side, “Excuse me, but you’ve been standing there for nearly twenty minutes staring at the same card. I really need to grab something.” When the vampire realized the impatience of the other person, she quickly turned her head and hissed, scaring the woman off. But the feeling of remorse soon hit her. Max could stand there for a year and in her timeline it wouldn’t matter, but to a woman whose days were numbered, time was a precious, precious thing. Just like it had been to her children who had long since grown older than Max had been when she died.
Sitting the child’s birthday card back down on the shelf, she moved over and picked out two more adult and generic looking cards. They had to feel distant and anonymous. Not like anything that came from the heart of a mother who had lost years of valuable time with the children she initially didn’t want. And when she found what she was looking for she headed to the register to check out.
Her yearly trip to New York, no matter where she was currently living, had always been the same. There was a routine to everything to insure she wouldn’t get caught. But with most of the people who would’ve known her in the town being dead, the task got easier and easier. There was still that underlying fear of running into her children though. Even her grandchildren and great grandchildren. Max didn’t know what Delores and Tony had told their families about her, but she didn’t want to risk making things complicated for them. She had done enough of that already.
“Ma’am, your change?” Raising her eyebrows, Max looked at the cashier, “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Taking it and the bag, she walked out into the cold, October air. It was brisk, but nothing like the constant numbing chill she felt being a part of the living dead. It was one of the parts of her existence now that she had never been able to adjust to after all these years. Maybe it was the hollowness of her heart or maybe it was just because the blood in her veins had been like ice, but whatever it was, it was a constant reminder that she was unnatural, and should’ve never been given a second chance in the first place.
As she cruised through the empty streets of the small New York town that seemed to be longing for life at this hour, Max thought about all the birthdays she had missed. All the times she could’ve made herself known, despite how unnatural it would’ve been that her children now looked like they could be her grandparents or great grandparents. It was unnerving to say the least and something she surprisingly struggled to shake. But maybe this trip would be different. Not just cards, gift baskets, and flowers left on the doorstep. Maybe this time she would actually come forward just to see what would happen. She wouldn’t have to explain who she is. Just be kind. Be someone that, in theory, would make her children proud of her. Even her parents.
Turning onto the street where Delores lived, Maxine slowed down and took in the row of houses leading to hers. The lights were out, except for the streetlights that gave ample light overhead. Everything looked the same. Maybe a few new Halloween decorations here or there. Different cars, but for the most part, nothing had changed, and when she reached her daughter’s house, she had noticed the same car that always sat parked in the driveway. It was another year older with a little more wear and tear, but still there along with the same decorations and empty flowerpots; an indication that her daughter was still living there. She’d come back tomorrow night and stick the card and generic gifts on the porch when she had more time, just before the clock rolled over to midnight so her dear, sweet girl would wake up to her birthday presents on time.
Now, off to see her son, Antonio. He hadn’t lived too far away from Delores which made travel time easier, especially working with only so much darkness, before she had to get back to her hotel. But knowing that all of these years her two children had spent their lives so close to one another had given her comfort, especially after getting word that their father had passed when Delores and Tony had only been in their 30s. It was a cruel fate that neither child had deserved. Losing both their parents at earlier ages. And it had only forced the regret that dug and clawed at Maxine’s heart to the surface a little more. Everyday, she remembered to quietly thank the nanny who had been a sole parent for two selfish adults who never did and never would fully have their life together; a reminder that maybe she was like her own mother and father more than she would’ve liked to admit chasing after dreams that were never fully realized in life, or, now, even in death.
With the turn up ahead, Max inhaled deeply, taking in air that was more for show than anything, as she let it out softly. But what she saw when she pulled onto the street had not been what she had expected to see. The row of houses seemed more rundown than before. There had been less of a sign of life in them than on Delores’ street only a few blocks over, and when she reached Tony’s house there had been nothing left standing. Only an empty lot with the rubble of past lives, hopes, and dreams. Maxine’s car came to a complete stop as she put it in park and shut off the engine. There were merely a few hours left in the night, but she had to see the demolished lot for herself. The destruction of where the house of her son once stood. Surely he was healthy and thriving, right? Buildings were torn down daily. Max, of all people, knew this, watching as the world shifted and changed.
Climbing back into her car gripping a metal and bent 5 that had lay on the ground in the mess of bricks, cement, and dirt, Maxine headed back to her hotel ready to settle in. But her mind and body wouldn’t rest. It would take researching on her part to figure out what had become of her son, Antonio, and why his neighborhood looked so deserted and empty. She would get to the bottom of it thanks to her laptop and the internet, but when she finally did, the results were not what she wanted to see.
Home of longtime resident and former mayor, Antonio Phillips, pile of rubble after electrical fire. If Maxine’s heart had been beating, it would’ve stopped immediately. And as she continued to read, the habit of breathing had ceased until she found what she had so desperately longed to see, Phillips survived the fire and is, since, recovering in a nursing facility…With the words burning her tongue and mouth, Maxine gave thanks to a god, she once believed in, and finished researching to find where her son was now residing.
The sky again dark and a bright moon hanging overhead, Max slipped out earlier than she had the night before. Maybe this time she would go to visit her son. Lay eyes on an aging elderly man who had faced yet another devastating loss in his life. His home where he had spent decades with his family. A wife and three kids. Grandkids. Dogs and exactly one cat. For as long as he had lived there and as long as Delores had lived in her home, Maxine had been visiting them. Her own little secret that no one would ever know.
“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over. Who were you here to see?” Maxine blinked a few times thinking of just how close she was to finally seeing her baby boy again, face-to-face. Maybe he would think she was some random stranger. Wouldn’t recognize the woman who gave birth to him long, long ago. It would be better that way right? Less painful for him? She didn’t care about her pain, because she deserved her pain, “Tony...Antonio Phillips.” A hopeful smile. One that was small, yet more genuine than any expression she had ever made, slowly crept across her lips, until it didn’t…“Oh…I’m so, so sorry. Mayor Phillips passed away two days ago. In his sleep. Are you family?”
It felt like Maxine’s entire world was caving in on her. Everything was drawing in around her. Her vision was going dark. Suffocating was the right word. For a woman who could no longer breathe, she was suffocating. And the noise that had unexpectedly escaped her mouth for someone so cold, callous, and deadly was one of disbelief. Her legs felt weak. Like she wanted to collapse in on herself. To fold up into something so tight that not even the strongest force in the world could pull her apart.
“Ma’am…Ma’am are you okay?” The receptionist came around and placed a hand on Max’s shoulder, but in sudden realization, the vampire jerked it away. Eyes turning red and her fangs coming out, she shoved the woman back against the wall ready to strike. Ready to consume her blood as a quick fix to a hurt that would never heal, and then she thought about Tony. Tiny tufts of dark brown hair atop his small little head. The way he reached for her. His bright blue eyes staring back into hers. Merely weeks old at the time. And one of the few moments she had ever reached back.
Letting go of the death grip holding the woman pinned against the wall, Max retracted her fangs, “I-I’m sorry…” And without another word, she left. Back to the darkness of the night, but this time any bit of hope she had come to town with, fast fleeting. Her baby boy was gone. Her youngest only by a few minutes, just...gone. Her chance to ever get to tell him that she did love him. That she had checked on him and his sister regularly, no longer an option. And no one to blame, but herself. How could she ever expect to face Delores. To say she wanted to be in her daughter’s life now when it was too late to be in her son’s. The thought seemed more impossible than it ever had.
The lights were on in the living room, and from the privacy of her car, Maxine could see Delores sitting on the couch next to a girl that looked very much like her daughter when she was a teenager; another significant moment in Delores' life that she had missed. The driveway had been full of cars. The house, full of life. Maxine couldn’t stay. She had to get back to the comfort of Wicked’s Rest and all the evil she could inflict upon people who didn’t matter. But she still wanted Delores to have her gifts. And the card.
A brief glance through the side of the window had given way to an entirely different world. One she could’ve been a part of. Laughter. Smiles. Hugs. One that was a lot less lonely. If only she hadn’t been so stubborn. So vain. So…selfish.
As she drove away into the night, Maxine let out a gut wrenching wail for the loss of a life she’d never experienced. Perhaps the one thing she’d been chasing the entire span of her own lifetime without ever realizing it, until it was too late. But this time, as cowardly as she may have been to say it in person, at least her daughter would know that her mother did love her and her brother in her own way from the child’s birthday card that lay on Delores’ porch that was signed, Love you for an eternity and longer, Mom.
Time to submit your Halloween costumes for judgement with just enough time to make proper adjustments for those boring, tacky or unfashionable choices.
Death and decay, because they know half this town are suckers who will drink anything labeled as fall or pumpkin spice. Sounds like those apples were nice and fermented. Hey, maybe with your collection of apple seeds you can make your own cider next year! Better get to planting!
I think I need to sell some of the art I made yesterday in the past few weeks, so if you’re interested in water themed paintings and sketches and stuff, let me know. Nice work very cheap!
