can somebody walk me home?

you & i both know this house is haunted

[vicioushauntings]

some say love is a burning thing; that it makes a fiery ring

SIMON MUHN; intro. starters. musings. music. threads. memes. ULYSSES LEBEAU; intro. starters. musings. music. threads. memes. ROSALIND ALIMJAN; intro. starters. musings. music. threads. memes. RENATO LUNA; intro. starters. musings. music. threads. memes.

oh but i know love as a f a d i n g thing just as FICKLE as a ( feather ) in a stream

★ brisket ★ she/her ★ est  ★ twenty-four

[ofthcshvdes-deactivated20240915]

@vicioushauntings || Celine & your choice - The medical tent at the Glitz Blitz!

Drying her hands on that white fluffy towel, she takes a moment to check her appearance in a small reflective surface nearby. Celine ensures her hair is neatly tucked away and not falling anywhere and her make-up isn't smudged from the light sweat she can feel permeating her skin. It had been many years since she'd joined her brother in a community healthcare tent, truthfully she couldn't remember a time since before she'd debuted- she tried to be available for as many as possible when she was in her trainee days but she was so busy these past few years she hadn't had time to dedicate to the community projects she'd so loved to share with her oldest sibling. "Make sure you drink it! You need to stay hydrated!" she scolded that brother of hers as he walked past her and she pressed an electrolyte drink into his hands and squeezed his arm gently, earning a warm smile from the doctor who patted her affectionately on the head as he headed deeper into the tent towards those more serious casualties she wasn't qualified to deal with. Celine had had some medical training in her youth, coming from a family of healers her childhood dream was to become a Paediatrician, however her idol lifestyle had gotten in the way of idelaisations (thanks, Barbara). She leans around the curtain she's treating from behind and smiles at the next patient, holding a hand out in greeting "I can take the next minor injury over here!"

[vicioushauntings]

Ren was relieved that he’s managed to walk away from the Glitz Blitz with only minor injuries - a sprained wrist, a twisted ankle, deep bruising that would linger on his complexion longer than he wanted. But it could be worse. He could be dead.

“It hurts to breathe,” He wheezes in the infirmary. Ren isn’t the first to be checked on. In the midst of broken bones and dislocated fingers, his bumps and bruises were the least of anyone’s worries. He just wants to rest, maybe take a very soapy bath in a very large tub. He holds his sprained wrist close to his body, careful not to flex the muscle too much - which is when he spots the Cece calling to him. Ren even looks over his shoulder. It feels too good to be true.

“Wait – me??” After all of his attempts at getting Gabs to introduce them, he never thought he’d manage to meet her here of all places. “Wow. Wow, I’m…I’m a huge fan. I never thought I’d get to meet you. Let alone here…I swear, I don’t normally look like this –” His sprained wrist manages to point at himself as he fervently shakes his head. “…Do you even recognize me? Has Gabs ever mentioned me at all?”

[axdently]

vicioushauntings​:

Would he have told Han? A silence falls between them - and his lack of an immediate response is truthfully the only answer that Han really needs. Well…it depends; Simon’s gut wishes to answer for him. Had the children wanted to be involved in his life? Yes, of course Han would have known the moment Simon found out, had he discovered this truth years prior. But if they wanted nothing to do with him? He struggles to see the significance in bringing it up when Han would still get just as upset with him. And yet, Simon is still smart enough to know his gut response is the right answer for their current argument.

He clears his throat. “Of course. Of course I would have told you,” His brows knit together. “We don’t have any secrets, yes?” Even that statement seems to hang in the air; there’s much Han doesn’t talk about, and just as much that Simon simply doesn’t bring up. However, he remains adamant as his head shakes. “They’re not here, in our home, no,” Simon is not so foolish as to bring them to their home right then and there. “But they’re in the city. I don’t…I don’t know much more than you do, Han. What do most want from their father? A connection? A sense of belonging? They can come for money, but you and I both know there isn’t much of that laying around,”

Simon thinks very little of his own father - the man who dropped him off for his sister to raise rather than take responsibility himself. And still, all these years later, he often wondered Am I just like him? His disregardment certainly left Simon with a collection of abandonment issues that were never addressed, yet lingered in his unwavering connection to Han - even in the face of arguments and unplanned children and feasts of blood, Simon prefers the life over being left behind once more. How could he ever deliver the same fate to his own children?

“I do have a family - but I missed out on them just as much,” He scowls. “Five minutes ago, you were prepared to adopt two other children - what difference does it make if there’s a genetic element to it? Would turn Jasper and Johanna from our door if you learned there was a blood relation there as well? What about your sister? Would you turn her away because she no longer fit into your cookie cutter idea of what a family should look like?” Eyes challenge Han as Simon finally meets his gaze again. “I won’t leave them behind. Not the way I was. Not the way you were, either.”

the lack of an immediate response spoke volumes, and the truth of Simon’s actions stung more than any words could convey. the room fell into an uneasy, stomach sickening, silence as Simon finished speaking. instead of meeting him with an understanding or softening expression, Han’s features tremor and contort with conflicting emotions.  he feels his face begin to swell, and there is a warm prick at the outer corners of each muddled and furious eye. “I thought we were supposed to be a team.” his heart was aching, torn between the love he had for Simon and the intense feeling of betrayal. 

Keep reading

[vicioushauntings]

Simon doesn’t know what else he could have done. Kept this from Han longer? He would have only made the situation worse by doing so. Of course, Simon could have not told Han at all…but that would have only lasted so long. Han remains among the few who could see right through him. The truth would eventually spill out of him…and then he’d be stuck in the same place again, wouldn’t he? No matter how much he wishes he could grant Han his request, to turn back the clock, somehow warn him that the possibility even existed…Simon would have.

But they were both well past that now, and Simon was left to deal with the consequences of his inactions - a steaming jealous partner who felt as though he were being pushed out of Simon’s life.

And wouldn’t Simon feel that same sick jealousy if he learned Han had a past intimate relationship which lead him to fathering children? Images of Han laying with another woman drift into his mind - surely similar images which had infiltrated Han’s mind upon learning more of Simon’s past.

“Is it a secret if I had no idea there was even a possibility? Should I begin accusing you of keeping secrets of things you aren’t even knowledgable of?”

Normally, Han’s hands around his neck are a source of comfort. Assurance of their bond - that in the face of whatever pain or trial that came toward them…Simon could trust his life in Han’s hands. But now, those hands feel dangerous. Not like the impulsive anger which Simon has felt before - that anger came in quick bursts and would dissipate as soon as it appeared. But this anger felt deeper than that - deeper than a mild annoyance, but something darker. Doubt, fear, and jealousy, all swirled deep in Han’s eyes.

“What are you –” Han’s grip against his neck tightens. Simon attempts to gasp, but no air comes. This is when the panic begins to set in. It burns against his veins and itches to be released. He acts without thinking. On pure instinct alone. He grapples at Han’s hands. When that fails to yield results, Simon attempts to kick at him. The burning feeling grows into his lungs, but Han’s grip remains cemented against Simon’s skin. What little breath remains in his throat manages to croak out a meager “Please –”

But if Han was able to hear him, Simon had no way of knowing. His face grew too preoccupied by turning blue. Any other words spoken were covered up by the ringing growing in his ears. Even his vision blurred in the corners. Simon had died before – too many times to count – but practice never made it any easier. He claws at the collar of Han’s shirt - a last-ditch desperation to fill his lungs with air.

[tewwor-is-moving]

He’s sat at the front desk in a full on slouch — head barely kept upright, belly puffed out, hands steepled above said pronounced gut ( don’t ask — it’s the natural position his hands feel the most comfortable when relaxing ). Hardly the visage of a hardworking ‘employee’ of this ‘prestigious’ establishment, but whatever. This nap’s well deserved in his mind. Especially after one old ninny tried to chew him out for not being professional. To which he lazily proclaimed how he’d be alright— not like the boss man can afford to lose me.

Stupid play on words, but it’s not like that stranger knew any better.

And so he’s intent on catching a few z’s before — an irritable clanging of door chime interrupts the possible snooze. Still, alarm and approaching footsteps aside, Jebidiah doesn’t make a single damn move to ‘wake up’. Both eyes stay firmly shut and each breath stays a smooth in-out, in-out until..

“Don’t. Start.” Two measly words hardly take air, but the punctuation between each makes his intention clear. Don’t start any bullshit, you rail thin weasel — lest you want fight number infinity to take place at a second’s notice. But, much to his everlasting chagrin, Ulysses does, in fact, start and hardly fucking stops. “Quit flappin’ your gums and fill out the damn ledger. Room 5, you cross-eyed peacock.” And he whips out the heavy keys to hopefully end conversation. 

[vicioushauntings]

“Don’t start?” Ulysses blinks his eyes back. “What do you mean? Are you not excited to see me?” Some would say that Uly and Jeb had a rather…complicated relationship. Uly liked flirting with him, Jeb wouldn’t mind if they dropped dead…And yet, they still happened to share the occasional meal together. While Ulysses pouts, he taps the seconds out on the counter. “You mean to say that you haven’t missed my voice, either? Shame, shame,” Now his head shakes. “I’ve certainly missed hearing yours. How long has it been? We’ve got to start meeting somewhere else other than your motel,” After grabbing hold of a pen, Ulysses clicks it an extra two or three times. Just to be irritating. “Maybe one of these days, you’ll let me take you out to dinner again, hmm?”

Finally, he does lean against the counter and begin filling out the leger, full of a collection of half-truths in case someone ever took too close of a look at Jeb’s motel.

“Why are you always in a rush to see me off? Can’t two old pals catch up a bit?” He asks. “No one’s come sniffing around here at all…have they?”

[vicioushauntings]

rosie!! Costume - do you like to dress up for Halloween? Do you have a go to costume?

"I don't have, like, a go-to costume or anything like that. I would never repeat a costume from one year to the next. But like, Halloween is probably one of my favorites. I don't really like the gross or scary costumes or anything like that. But I do love dressing up as the different Disney princesses. I think my favorite costume was when me and my sisters all dressed up like Alice in Wonderland characters. I think I was one of the tea party guests? It made more sense when we all stood together."

[vicioushauntings]

rosie ; Pumpkins - do you like to carve pumpkins? Any favorite designs?

"I don't like having to pull all the pumpkin stuff out of the pumpkin...you know? It just gets everywhere and it's so sticky, I find it like...dried up on my skin for a week afterward, even after I've showered. But actually carving pumpkins - yeah, I love that! I'm not any good at it.. Some of the designs people can do are just so cool! I tend to just stay to the basics is all."

[vicioushauntings]

is your muse hiding something serious from those around them? why? simon!

"There are certain...deals which I have agreed to that I haven't spoken allowed, yes..."

[vicioushauntings]

does your muse talk to themselves when they're alone? if so, how frequently and what about? if not, how else do they fill their alone time? simon!

"The house is filled with noise more often than it's filled with quiet air. On the rare occasion that I have the house to myself, I keep to myself and try to enjoy it while it lasts. However, when I'm at work...I have more of a tendency to speak to myself. It helps work through problems."

"I'm sure I look like a babbling idiot talking to myself when communing with the dead. But some things simply cannot be helped."

[vicioushauntings]

🌏 EARTH - will they give up the world for someone they love? is this decision easy for them?

"I've never desired the world as it is. I'd give it up for Han. Or for my children, if giving up the world meant letting them live a better life than I have."

[vicioushauntings]

simon ;Warmth - bonfires or indoor fires?

"Indoors. While I do enjoy being able to look up at the stars...I prefer the comfort and privacy granted within my own home. That, and there's less worry about the breeze blowing smoke into your face."

[vicioushauntings]

MEME WEEKEND FOR simon muhn, rosie alimjan, ulysses lebeau, renato luna, & vivansh dalal

autumn asks

in-depth headcanons

emoji asks

[occvltisms]

⸻ “Woah dude, talk about a peachpocalypse, am I right? But also, uh, I didn’t see nothing.” It wasn’t technically a lie, just a clever choice of words that she’d banked on slipping past the strangers frazzled mind. She did her best to look nonchalant, but the peach juice already soaking into her clothes and her messed-up hair still screamed the words ‘guilty’.

She couldn’t keep the grin off of her face, no matter how much she tried to hide that she found the whole situation pretty damn hilarious. Her eyes sparkled mischievously, guilty pleasure in the chaos showing through. “Okay, you got me. Those peaches just couldn’t resist my magnetic charm, I guess,” she paused, finally breaking out into a laugh. “But seriously, it was an accident, I swear!” Her hands go up defensively in mock fear, “One of my, uh, not-so-graceful thralls got a little too excited and, well…let’s just say your card didn’t really stand a chance.” She finished, failing to suppress another giggle.

“But hey, look on the bright side! Now you’ve got a wicked story to tell, right?”

[vicioushauntings]

“It certainly looks like a crime scene,” Viv agrees. His peaches gone, his cart broken… “Another man would file a report,” But Viv held no intention of calling for any higher authority. His frustration lies in the loss of his peaches alone, not his income. And his cart…well…fixing things gave Viv great pleasure. He already had begun thinking of new ways to give that old cart of his more stability and stand out in the crowd more – would a bell be too annoying, or should he simply hire someone to paint on a brightly colored sign for him? Unless that would attract too much attention and make his peaches a bigger target for thievery…He turns to look back at the girl who claims to have seen no potential culprits. “...And you’re certain you saw no one?”

In his six hundred-some years, Viv likes to believe he understands both humans and dreamshades enough to get a good read of their facial expressions - what may, and what may not, be reflected against their face. The juice stained on her clothes suggest to him otherwise. Still…Viv is not the type to point the finger ( lest three be pointed back to him ), so he simply raises an eyebrow at her frazzled hair.

“Well,” Her confession leaves Viv with a smile. “Thank you for at least being honest with me. It can be a difficult thing to do,” However, his arms still cross over his chest as he begins to survey the mess displayed on the street in front of them. “I do believe this is quite a bit of a mess for just one person to clean up, don’t you? And I’d feel quite horrible to leave these peaches to rot, until someone else comes along and cleans them up. Have you ever had a pesky gnat or fruit fly hang around your face for too long? I couldn’t subject to all the people walking down this street to that. I can take care of fixing up my cart by myself, but it sure would be helpful if you could lend a hand cleaning this all up.”

@spcllcraft

[axdently]

vicioushauntings​:

“How about this,” Ren stands in front of Kyle and takes both hands into his own. “When we go out to the arcade later,” Because of course they were going to the arcade later - he owed Kyle a rematch of the lifetime at Galaga. “The first ground of games can be on you. Giovanni’s is my treat. The games can be yours,” Perhaps because money has never been much of an issue to him, Ren has never understand Kyle’s insistence on paying for things. But he was smart enough to know when to step back - and allow for Kyle to take the occasional reigns.

His smile brightens as their weekend activities continue to expand. “It sounds like we’ve got a packed schedule already. How are we supposed to squeeze eating into all that?” Of course, there would be Cheeto fingers galore and snack boards and lots of ordering out. “Hmm…maybe we can stop in to see Jessie some night?” A shrug accompanies the suggestion. “I’m sure she’d love to have you stop by to say hello. We could even like…I dunno, treat her to dinner, or something?”

a wide grin tugged at the corners of Kyle’s lips as he listened to Ren’s words, "You’ve got yourself a deal, but I’ll need your help beating Turtles in Time.” –– it was difficult to get a high score on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ game. he needed his Leonardo to help his Michaelangelo, and then once they reached that top line of the scoreboard, he’d reward Ren handsomely ( 😉 ) he hasn’t even begun to think about Galaga… instead his eyes sparkle with excitement. it had been a long week, filled with too much work and responsibilities –– sometimes Kyle forgets just how irresponsible he used to be without those Toddlings running around. a kiss is placed on two pairs of knuckles before him, debt granted for the patience and love, and fun his boyfriend granted him.

as Ren mentioned their packed schedule, Kyle couldn’t help but laugh. the idea of crumbs on bedsheets, pillow cases, and duvet covers wasn’t something that was foreign to the two. he assures Ren, “We can mutli-task.”  but the impending dirty, wrinkled sheets could very well break their fantasy weekend. “Order in.” she shrugs, flirtatiously, nudging Ren’s shoulder. “I’ll feed you while you play solo missions. You really think I’d starve you?” 

 "But hey, stopping by to see Jessie sounds like a great idea. I’ve missed her.” he feels like with between their busy work schedules, and the Toddlings running around that it had been ages since he had time to see the adopted mother. “And treating her to dinner?” he thinks is a wonderful idea–– a gesture that would likely bring the redhead to tears since she’s the one always cooking for everyone. he’s almost scared to agree to it. “You trying to score points with your future mother-in-law, or what?” 

[vicioushauntings]

“ – You still haven’t beaten it yet?” The words, perhaps, come out harsher than he intends. He just knows exactly how many hours Kyle’s been putting into that game at the arcade, and he expected to see Kyle’s initials written in among the list of high scores. Realization arrives with a clearing of Ren’s throat and a change of tone. “I mean…yeah, of course I can help you with it,” A curving smile curls in the corner of Ren’s mouth. Working as an insurance agent is one thing, of course, but for Kyle, it’s nothing more than a means to make money. Ren sees his true passion when it comes to turtle fighting. And…taking care of the little Toddlings, of course. But every time Kyle’s eyes light up talking about DigDug or PacMan or Street Fighter…Ren finds himself falling in love all over again.

– And of course they’d order in. On his own, a full schedule often leaves Ren frazzled with how to fit everything in - getting him to the point where he plans out his activities by the minute, including a three-minute-allotted bathroom break. But with Kyle…somehow…it all just fits together perfectly.

Between the long hours at Kyle’s job, eating dinner, going to the arcade, and meeting up with Jessie…Ren could feel his stomach glurg at the thought of trying to fit it all in with the remaining hours of the day they still had. But treating her to dinner first, two tasks just combine into one and a weight feels lifted off Ren’s shoulders. “How do you do that?” He asks. “How do you just…make everything feel so much easier?” Relief seeps back into him when he squeezes Kyle’s hand. “Well…I don’t know about future mother-in-law or trying to score any points…but it just seems like the nice thing to do, you know? Gabs and I are always grabbing food for one another. It’s just…I dunno…what you do for someone you care about.”

[ofthcshvdes-deactivated20240915]

     Sunk deep into that lavender coloured bean bag, the room had a cool ambience with the lights turned low and the string lights hanging from her ceiling twinkled and flickered between varying shades of pink and purple. The large screen attached to the wall of her bedroom hung above a multitude of gaming consoles of which one was currently humming as she played that strategy adventure RPG with the customised controller held in manicured hands. The character on her screen hefted a sword at the hulking orc foe she was currently trying to defeat, there’s a cursed word of irritation as her phone chimes and distracts her for a moment and the enemy gains the advantage in the momentary lag. Despite her valiant efforts, the death card overtakes her screen and she throws the controller at the wall, where it scuffs the paintwork and there’s an audible crack as the plastic casing is damaged by the blunt force. She picks up her phone and replies to Ren’s message with an affirmative before heading off to take a shower.      Her car pulls into one of the reserved spaces in the parking lot of the apartment building, Gabs reapplies her lipgloss in her rear-view mirror and she fluffs up her freshly blow-dried hair (courtesy of Ella, her brothers au-pair). Stepping onto the asphalt, she heads up to her best friends home holding the carry case containing their Selbucks orders, ignoring the building security who bow their head at her respectfully as she saunters past. She lets herself into his apartment, setting their drinks down onto the table and turning to look at him as he spoke, pulling her designer sunglasses off and tucking them up onto her head.       “You don’t need to worry about that” she retorts, picking up her iced coffee and taking a sip “I broke up with him because he’s an asshole.”

[vicioushauntings]

Gabs busies herself with her flashy sunglasses and Ren pulls his colorful, foam-filled coffee from the tray. Even though she relays what should be good news to him, he remains unphased. How many times had she told him that she had kicked Skeeter to the curb, only for them to get back together again by the next week? Or, occasionally, even sooner then that - Ren had witnessed a breakup on a Friday and go out for dinner on a Sunday night.

“Hmm,” Ren’s lips flatten. He slurps at his coffee in response. “And how long will I not have to worry about Skeeter this time?” Of course, by which Ren means just how long until Gabs inevitably gets back together with him? He knows he should just get accustomed to Skeeter being in Gabs’ life - and his own by extension. His stomach urges him to ask Gabs what’s the point in breaking up if everyone knows they’re getting back together again…but Ren pushes that question further down. An argument with her isn’t how he wants to spend his time.

“You don’t have to remind me that he’s an asshole,” Ren decides instead. Agreement, rather than argument. “What was the tipping point this time? Did he scuff your new pair of heels or something?”

[vicioushauntings]

axdently

the wrinkle in her nose underscores the meaning behind her smile–– the one that understands that they’ve reached an understanding. eyes glance around them, as tiny flecks of magic continue to course through the veins of the cottage. she explains, “It becomes intuitive.” or that’s what she’d like to believe, often newcomers get side tracked along the decorated corridors. but the home had always been a part of her life, like a friend, or a guardian. she didn’t have to grow used to allowing it’s magic to hem in her soul, instead it so ardently engulfed her, where sometimes she didn’t understand where her wishes ended and its intentions had begun. “Like the roots of a plant that sprout vines or petals or fruit, it grows and nourishes. I find that once you allow its magic in your heart, it cherishes every part your being. It’ll take time, I assume.” she gives Uly a reassuring pat on his shoulder, “Like all things, you must build a rapport of trust, and when you respect this home, it learns to respect you.” 

she begins to imagine the different facets of The Poulailler–– “I’ve never been to, what it is? A burlesque theatre.” she pointedly refuses to use language that could challenge the integrity of the business. she doesn’t wish to offend nor does she begin to understand the depths of seedy nature that could or could not go on within those walls. she asked, “You lived there all your life?” further pressing her questions, she is famished for information on her brother’s upbringing. “I think if it has traces of who you are, I wouldn’t mind dipping my toes there…” she craves to know how the other half lives. refusing to be jealous of the very different upbringings, her lip contorts into a thin line. “We have lots to catch up on, you know?” her composure wavers, she almost feels embarrassed as the words flutter from her lips with a light chuckle, “It’s my wish to understand everything about you.” she hopes her brother feels the same.

a guilty, nod of disdain follows. no wonder he’s agreed to meet with her, and stay with her–– the whispers hadn’t yet tainted his ears, it seemed. there is a slight fear looming over her–– its fingers are nearly pricking at the skin of her shoulders threatening to ruin that newfound relationship. In her ears it confirms those insecurities: that she is unlovable, that she will end up truly alone, and that she wasn’t worth an ounce of warmth in the world. a shiver travels up her spine. “What’s a cottage when the whole world is burning.” her gaze is cold, as if irises have turned to stone. her sarcastic quip it tossed to the side as she explains, “I would just be careful who you speak to about me. There are some narratives that are being passed around as if they are the truth.” 

Another laugh cackles from his lips. “Like the roots of a plant or vines or petals or fruit - how very Frasier of you,” He wonders how much of her upbringing was done through the lens of the natural world around them - and how much of that perhaps existed inside him too…buried deep down. Would he find that parts of the cottage corridors would see familiar - like a memory he’d deemed too fuzzy to have existed as anything but a dream? As he earned respect in the building and each hallway lead him to where he needed to go, would he find any evidence of the young boy who once lived there so many years ago? Small drawings tucked behind a new bookcase, a toy long since forgotten that it could not have been scrubbed away from the mother who had tried to bleach his existence from the home? 

“I will admit…my interest in exploring and learning the layout has been piqued,” Though he still remains uncertain if the cottage will ever feel like an extension of him the way his own home has become. “Burlesque shows, yes,” He nods. “The woman who brought me in worked there at one time, I believe, and has worked on building it up for as long as I can recall,” Many would not think of such a place as beautiful, but Ulysses thinks of it with a sense of pride, having watched the building expand and entice wealthier customers and create quite the safe haven for girls who had nowhere else to turn. “She used to say she couldn’t trust my grubby little fingers not to wreck the apartment she lived in, so it was easier to let me burn energy out backstage or out on the floor,” He explains. “If we all make it to this weekend…I could always take you there before any of the shows start,”

Despite his reputation, Ulysses had a larger fascination for the technical and business aspects of his foster mother’s shop than the actual performances put on by the women there.

“About thirty years worth to catch up on,” He agrees. When her gaze turns cold, he worries he has perhaps said the wrong thing and ruined it all. Had he brought up difficult memories of their mother that she wished to forget? Was he rushing too much with trying to learn about her? Had she, perhaps, made a tragic mistake since becoming Head of Frasier and he was simply too much of a dunce to have heard of it? “When the whole world’s burning, a stone cottage could be the last thing still standing amidst the ash, waiting to rebuild it all again,” He points out. “I’ve been known to lend an ear to gossip, but seldom do I attribute information to it –” Unless it was misinformation. Or he’d been paid to. But he’d charge too high of a price than most could afford to lie in the name of his sister. “Besides - I prefer making my own judgements of people than listening to others.”

[vicioushauntings]

ofthcshvdes

     Lifting the glittering cocktail to her lips and taking a sip, Val eyes her most recent victim and laughs enthusiastically at the idiot opposite hers lame attempt at humour, placing a gentle hand on his arm “you are so funny, I can’t even explain it” her voice is simpering and honey-sweet, buttering up the businessmans ego and lowering his guard even further. However, her game is interrupted by the appearance of that man who approaches her with all the subtlety of a steam train, that accusatory finger entering her personal space and causing her to look at him with a mixture of annoyance and pure aghast surprise.      “I’m sorry- do I know you?” her head tilts and her eyes narrow as she scans him up and down, feigning ignorance as to this mans identity. Eyes flick from the intruder, to her date and back again and a few giggles fall from her lips as her head shakes “I think you have the wrong person- I’ve never seen you before in my life” the dragon necklace at her throat glints and seems to vibrate as though laughing at the situation that has unfolded, her hand moves up and adjusts it, squeezing the metal roughly as she moved it back into position into the dip between her collarbones. “Can’t you see we’re busy, please stop bothering me.”

“Stop bothering you? Stop bothering you?” The words bring him to laughter. It had been quite some time since anyone had stolen from him. There was little that Ulysses owned which he didn’t safely secure in one way or another. Money tucked away in one spot, his personal belongings in another, even if someone had taken it upon themselves to go through his things, they’d be forced to run across the entire city to find everything that Ulysses claimed ownership to.

Perhaps it was his own fault; he hadn’t intended on keeping the compact. It had been picked up on pure impulse alone. It had sat in his pocket for days - he hadn’t known what to do with it just yet - bring it back to Sif without saying anything? Wait to see if she would ever ask him about it? Swap it out for another of his mother’s potential belongings? 

Whatever he decided, he needed it back from this woman first.

He puts on a sly sort of smile and directs his attention to the man across from the thief of a woman. “I suggest you keep your hands in your pockets around her, my friend. What we have here is a low grade petty thief who will take anything that isn’t nailed down, from whatever Phils you may have to that flashy watch on your wrist. She’d sell the coat off your back for some extra pocket change, if she could. I’ve been tracking her down for weeks now, you’re simply lucky I caught her when I did,” His eyes draw back to her. “I think you owe me some champagne and a dance.”

[grxmincvdescxnce]

daeneryn knew better, of course. better than to raise her voice, at least, and the sort of cowering that results from her actions would, from anyone else, cause an overwhelming sense of disgust to strike at the very core of her bones. instead, with rosie, it results in a funny little twist of .. what? .. guilt, maybe? — either way, a mostly unfamiliar churning of weirdness settles at the pit of her stomach, permitting room for pause. it isn’t enough to keep her from the child-like pouting that plagues her features until — someone has to worry about you. rosalind draws her gaze like a moth to a dangerous flame, the words ringing through perked up ears like a quiet symphony, lips falling slightly agape. of course, it shouldn’t have surprised the blonde, considering the pair of them were old friends. but, as always, part of daena couldn’t help but wonder if rosie meant more by the passing sentiment, if she somehow recognized her bravado as otherwise. the young girl had a habit of seeing through her, even if her old friend rarely seemed to recognize it.

and as always, in time, the lady vanitas comes to brush the matter aside entirely, deciding it no longer mattered. the blonde recovers easily enough, a hand beneath her chin as attempts are made to keep her air of disregard. “i have my council for that. no need for you to make a fuss too, dum—” her friend finds her hands buried in the fabric of her clothing, and there’s abrupt silence once more as the words of evident concern spill from across the table. for a breath of a moment, daeneryn’s amber hues soften, unlikely understanding shining through a typically rougher exterior. 

“don’t be an idiot.” it isn’t harshly stated, barely a bite in her tone despite the choice in phrasing. no, she’s remarkably calm, and much easier on the eardrums than one might expect. the trailing gaze of various onlookers appears to fall away gradually, as they seem more certain the prior scene has found its end. “if you of all people doubt me, i don’t really stand a chance.” it’s the most honest she’s been in this whole conversation, thus far. “so of course i can handle it.” the implication being, ‘so don’t doubt me’, even in a matter as gruesome as this.

deny, deny, deny had been her policy since news broke, and the lady vanitas had every intention in letting her usual confidence continue to speak for her. the question, however, was rather unexpected. and that shade of vulnerability from a dear friend deserved a similar turn, for once. should matters require, daena would handle business. she wouldn’t want to, of course — the ideal still being their utter and complete victory. if all else failed, however, she figured she was bound for hell anyways — what was another body, really?

[vicioushauntings]

“It’s not that I doubt you –” Words dribble from her mouth before she’s given them a second thought. When she sits and thinks on them, she still finds them entirely truthful; nothing in Rosie’s heart suggests Daena’s inability to make such a decision. But living with the decision? Rosie knows her old friend isn’t the most forthcoming with how she feels - how she buries her words deep within her fists rather than speak them aloud. Inspite of her insistence of being fine and okay - Rosie saw past it all. Sure, Daena could decide which of Vanitas’ crew would be sacrificed to the boundary, but would their face haunt her dreams? How would their family react? Would she press it further and further into an already overflowing bottle until it burst from the pressure of it all?

Rosie frees the fabric from her fists, which has become a wrinkled mess against her palms. She takes her time smoothing it back out again so she can swallow her words and choose the right ones carefully.

“I don’t doubt you,” She reiterates. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. If anyone can make that decision, it’s you…but just because you can make that decision…Sometimes I decide to do something, you know? But the more I think about it, the more I think that I should have decided something else. Like when I thought I shouldn’t get those crystalized butterfly clips, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about them for the whole next week. I absolutely should have gotten those butterfly clips. And…that’s just hair accessories. Thinking about that for someone’s entire life?”

Her stomach gurgles again.

“It’s just…Whatever happens…However you feel…If something bad goes down…You can always call me or find me…alright?”