* ☾. — OH BUT TO LOVE !

✕ ° › many years ago in a SAD, faraway land, there was an enormous mountain made of rough, black stone. at sunset, on top of that mountain, a magic rose blossomed every night that made whoever plucked it IMMORTAL. but no one dared go near it because its thorns were full of poison. men talked amongst themselves about their FEAR OF DEATH, and PAIN, but never about the promise of eternal life. and every day, the rose wilted, unable to bequeath its gift to anyone... FORGOTTEN and LOST at the top of that cold, dark mountain, forever alone, until the end of time.

[viivavoce-blog]

New town. Seemed like a nice place. Quiet. A bit of a tourist trap, but that was what made it such a great stop. New people came in and out all the time; no one would remember him. Once he got sloppy. But he couldn’t help himself, she had just been so pretty. Such a sweet little thing. He thought maybe he’d be the only one to miss her, and while that certainly wasn’t the case anymore, it just might be now. That was a long time ago. One of his first.

Now he was better. Smarter. Didn’t take risks like that. Maybe a little cliche, but they still fell for it. More concerned about other things, more open to meeting new people in different ways. Not everyone is going to kidnap, you right? You’re more likely to be hurt by someone you know than a stranger.

Sometimes, though, the stranger is the one to be worried about. Eren had been driving around, window shopping, for the past few days. Absolutely nothing he liked. Even went into the mall; sat with a coffee and tried to find something he liked. Despite how much he adored this place, he was considering moving on. If he stayed too long, someone would get suspicious. Everyone seemed so nice, though. So trusting. Willing to open their arms to him as long as he smiled and shook their hands.

He was getting ready to head back to his motel and pack up when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Oh. Oh, what an absolute sweetheart. No. No, he would stay now. She was the one. He carefully pulled up beside her, reaching for the crumpled map on the passenger’s seat, never taking his eyes off of her once. When she started to slow, he rolled down the window and flashed her a smile, sunlight glinting off of his sunglasses. “I seem to be a bit lost.” He brandished the map, showing her a town about an hour away that was circled in red. “I had to stop for the night and now it looks like I lost my rhythm. Can’t find my way back to the highway. Think you can help me out?”

[viivavoce-blog]

Sarah sat alone at, occupying one of the only chairs in the entire ballroom. Somewhere off in the corner, she had managed to spot a padded armchair and taken up residence in it, champagne flute dangling limply from between two fingers. She wasn't sure what she had expected when her mother promised to take her along for this party, but it certainly wasn't this. Her strapless bra had sprung a wire and was stabbing her in the chest, the champagne was obviously either cheap or watered down, and, worst of all, no one seemed to be paying any attention to her. She had tried flirting with some of her mother's friends when she had first arrived, but they all brushed her aside without so much as a second glance. It was really rather disheartening, so she instead took so sulking in the corner and thinking some of her deepest and moodiest thoughts, which was where the present moment found her.

Eyes boring vacantly into a picture hanging ever so slightly unevenly on the wall, she let out a deep sigh, hand still mindlessly swirling her champagne around in the glass. Of course, she could always go home, but then she would hear about how she was throwing away a perfect opportunity for publicity. Which, in her mother's defense, wasn't wrong. This was the perfect opportunity to make a public appearance, even if it was only still in her mother's shadow. Everyone had to start somewhere, after all. Sarah Williams would start hanging on her mother's back; not the most dignified position to be found in, but in the limelight none the less. And it wasn't as if she didn't have the talent to back up her shameless mooching. She had very definitely inherited her mother's penchant for the stage and the spotlight, and the acting chops to back it up as well.

Sitting alone, in her chair, she wondered why she didn't have an agent yet. Why her mother's agent mysteriously refused to represent her. She caught herself frowning and her eyes broke away from the brushstrokes across the room, raising her champagne flute to her lips to hide the ugly shape her lips had taken of their own accord. Of course, upon tasting the effervescent liquid inside the glass, she made an even worse face, but at least now she had something to hide behind, translucent as it was. Letting her arm rest back on the plush armrest once more, she now chose to focus on the bright red lipstick marks she kept leaving on her glass. She had begun to mull over it as a metaphor when someone wearing an admittedly lovely pair of heels began walking straight for her. Her first instinct was to stand and gesture towards the chair. "I'm sorry, do you want to sit? I can move." It was really only falsely considerate, a habit her mother had endlessly drilled into her. You never know who's watching. Make a good impression on everyone.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

“Yeah, yeah, Sammy, I’ll grab you a salad.”

His voice was louder than it needed to be as he walked into the diner, though it was far from angry. It was simply unmeasured, the bright noise spilling out of a man who had never learned how to contain the fire of his soul inside the tightness of his skin. Ever since he was young and the fire tore his family to pieces, he had always been too much for almost anyone to handle. He was too loud, too harsh, too joyful, too angry, too full of light and too full of darkness; only his brother had ever been able to touch him without crumbling to ash. A creature of passion was could never last in a cage.

After finishing up the call and hanging up, he made his way to one of the tables pressed up against the window, sliding into the booth with a sigh. Bright green eyes moved around the restaurant, taking in his surroundings with hyper-vigilance that he somehow managed to make look casual. After a minute or so – when he was certain there were no pictures of him plastered to the walls and no terrible police sketches of Sam underlined with WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE blocking the sun from filtering in the windows – his gaze focused onto the menu in front of him. 

He considered his options for a brief time before the waitress came over, ordering a coke and a burger that he hoped would satisfy him more than the shitty breakfast at the hotel. After his order was placed, he stood up with the intention of running off to the restroom. Instead he was sidetracked by something that made his heart stop and then take off like a rocket, hammering heart against his rib cage with such fervor that he thought it might burst from his chest. It was bloody, brutal and bore a resemblance to some of his own artwork, though he couldn’t be certain at the moment. 

If Sam had been there, they would already be gone. The younger brother was the calmer one, the more rational one that had worked so carefully to keep them from being caught. The older brother was the one with the bloodiest hands, the one that cleaned up the mess when cautious thought wasn’t enough to keep the cops off their backs. He was the one careless enough to slide into the chair across from the woman with such peculiar tastes and apparently no care for the stomachs of other customers. “Making a scrapbook?” He commented, the deep, dark circles under his eyes visible as the light streamed across his face.

She really hadn’t noticed the man approaching her until he, for whatever reason, deemed it appropriate to take the empty seat opposite her. She eyed him skeptically, dingy ceramic mug still covering the bottom half of her face as she slowly sipped the bitter muck that this hole in the wall called coffee. It always went down terrible and hard, no matter how much cream and sugar she dumped into it. Unfortunately, though, she had long since sold her soul to the gods of caffeine and this disgusting brown slop in her cup was the only thing keeping her awake. Alive, even.

And so, when this obnoxiously confident and intrusive man sat down opposite her, she tried to maintain some measure of level-headedness and continue drinking her coffee just as slowly as she had been before, taking her sweet time before setting the mug down to even think about answering him. No, she had simply sat there making eye contact with him for as long as she could manage, trying to make him uncomfortable enough to realize whatever he was trying to do was a bad idea and encourage him to move along.

“Gotta fill the time somehow,” she replied blandly, finally breaking off eye contact once she started speaking, turning her attention instead towards the files splayed out in front of her, “Who doesn’t love looking at pictures of mutilated bodies, right?” She offered up a small, ironic half smile, glancing up at her new companion before turning the page and revealing another victim of whatever depraved mind had done all this. Then another, and another. Maybe advertising what work she did, what frame of mind she was constantly in would be enough to drive this man away. Or maybe he might just have a weak stomach. Really, she didn’t care why he left so long as he did. It was so difficult to focus on her work when someone decided to keep bothering her, especially some strange man who either had a penchant for admiring violence or was trying to make a move on Talia amid her grueling battle against the evildoers of the world.

Worst come to worst, she would introduce herself by name and hope he was at least up to date with current events enough to recognize her as that weird independent profiler who killed someone when she was in college. Realistically, she should consider that reputation something of a blessing. People were always so focused on their misgivings about her that hardly anyone ever questioned where she got enough information to solve these crimes when she wasn’t affiliated with the bureau. Blessing and a curse, she supposed to herself, sighing deeply and flipping another file open, ragged nails drumming on the table.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

One part of the curse that Duke particularly hated was the lack of simplicity. They were drawn together by fate, of course, but the world was so big and they could be on opposite ends of the earth at any given time. Sometimes, such as the past few centuries, he went several lifetimes without seeing Sophia. Or Sophie, as she was known now apparently. How very modern of her. Not that he could really judge now that he went by Duke instead of his proper Deucalion; the times changed and they had to change with them, even if he did it much more consciously than her.

In his whole life – which was a much longer span of time than most people could claim – Duke had never met anyone as pure and good hearted as Sophia. Even back when he’d brought an offering to the gods at least once a week and dedicated his whole life to serving his ruler, he could never come close to the purity that she held. Perhaps that was why Hestia had grown so angry at their love, regardless of how good his intentions were. From the moment he first set his eyes on her, he’d stained her, left marks of dirt and blood across a white linen cloth that was never meant to be touched. It was selfishness, he supposed, even if it was something he could never regret.

Even in her cluelessness, even when faced with a man who had shown himself not above robbing a church and had no proof that he wasn’t armed – he wasn’t, but only because a man that couldn’t die had no need for a weapon – she was so gentle. How she could offer him help even after his rude words and awful crime was something that he couldn’t understand, but maybe it was just something he had forgotten. Either way, it pulled a slightly amused smile onto his lips as he glanced down at the mess of religious icons at his feet.

As soon as the door opened, his eyes were back on her, searching for recognition he wouldn’t find. She wouldn’t remember him, not until she fell in love again. Lifetime after lifetime he had to convince her that he was worth loving, something that grew harder as his bitterness grew. Still, he shook her hand with the strength of a soldier used to wielding a sword, giving her a half smile. “Sophia Metaxas, it’s damn good to see you again. Name’s Deucalion Galatas, but you can just call me Duke. If you wanna know what’s going on with this-” He gestured to the not so stolen items. “Then it’s just a bet I made when I was shit faced. But the name thing is a longer story and it’ll really fuck with your head. Oh, and you probably won’t believe me since I’m guessing the miracles you believe in this lifetime aren’t quite the same as the curses you stumbled into back when I first met you.”

When she felt his skin on hers, something electric exploded somewhere deep inside her. She blamed it on nerves, or maybe that he was holding her hand just a little too tightly. Their grip on each other lingered just a touch too long, and it made her woozy again. The second he withdrew his hand, she felt totally fine instantly. Perfectly normal with no indication that just milliseconds before she felt like she was being set on fire from the inside out. Maybe her blood sugar was low?

“Please stop swearing,” was the only thing she could think to offer in response to... whatever it was he had just dumped on her, “This is a house of God and I know you don’t respect that but I’m asking very kindly to realize that I do.” She looked at him with a mixture of shyness and embarrassment from under thick lashes. Her voice was quiet, just a little bit too quiet, giving away too much of how apprehensive she was. How terrified she was of him and how baffling the last fifteen minutes had been. “I -- I won’t ask you to help me pick this up or anything, I just really, really need you to stop swearing. At least the f word.”

She pursed her lips, giving him another quick once over. Who made a bet to raid a church, even when intoxicated? Or, as he had so eloquently put it, shit faced. Peoples’ behavior could be absolutely repulsive sometimes, but then the language used to describe their poor decision making was infinitely worse. It never ceased to amaze her. It took her another second to stop chewing on her lip, stop thinking too hard about it and open her mouth again. “I do want to know how you know my name, though. You said it’s good to see me again, have we met before? I’m, uhm.” She laughed nervously, something high pitched and giddy and lovely, a real smile spreading across her face for the first time since she had laid eyes on him, almost in spite of herself and how nervous she still was. “I’m really sorry if -- if that’s the case. I’ve always had such an awful memory. My mother says I would lose my head if it weren’t attached.” Cliche, but true. He did look familiar, though. And yet, she was certain she had never met this man before in her life. Maybe he just had one of those faces?

She was almost starting to loosen up when all of a sudden he stopped making sense again. Sophie instinctively took a step backwards and took to chewing on her bottom lip again. In this lifetime? As if she’d lived more than one? As if that were even possible? No. No, when you died, your soul went straight to be judged, there was no such thing as cycles of reincarnation or rebirth or anything like that. He did know what type of church he was in, right? Just because she was part Indian didn’t mean she followed a traditionally Indian religion. Which, of course, she was used to people assuming, but this building was very obviously Catholic looking. Heck, there was a statue of Mother Mary right behind him, there was no way he missed that. She just desperately wished something he said would make sense, or else he’d just leave her alone, go remember to take his medication or else spout off this nonsense to someone who had the time to listen to it.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Oh, he was frustrating, wasn’t he? He was so convinced that he was some terrible monster that she swore he seemed to be in love with the idea. He wanted to be unsavable so that he never had to face himself, so that he never had to face his demons. Unfortunately for him and his dramatic nature, the more he was unwilling to be cared for, the more determined she was to show him just how good he could be. However stubborn he thought he could be, she figured it was unlikely he had ever run into someone quite as stubborn as her.

“I don’t need to go runnin’ to anyone, Mister Dark Soul,” she drawled, just a tiny amount of sarcasm slipping into her voice. “I am goin’ to stay right here and I am going to tell you all the reasons that I think you’re being a big, giant pain in my backside. If you walk away, I’ll follow you. I ain’t got nothin’ else to do that’s more important than gettin’ through that thick head of yours and you should trust me that you ain’t changin’ my mind about this. You might be older, but I’m real stubborn.” Though her voice was intense, it was still bright, the slightly contradictory tone verging somewhere along aggressively passive. “And if you keep trying to tell me that you’re some kinda monster, that you’re gonna snuff me out or that you’ll do whatever to me, I’m gonna start cryin’. I’ll cry real loud just so that someone hears and then you’ll get in trouble and maybe they’ll call the cops and it’ll just be a real mess and I don’t think that you wanna deal with that so you better shush your silly little mouth and let me give you my affection. No ifs, ands or buts about it. Got it?” 

How determined she was. It was enough to make him laugh in spite of himself, lips turning skyward for a brief moment as he cleared his throat, sniffled, wiped the tears from his eyes. Awful little traitors. He tried to keep his eyes trained on the stars for as long as he could before she drew his attention once more. Once she did, though, he gave her a withering stare and took her chin between three fingers, cupping it against his palm.

“You don’t know me, cher.” He hoped it sounded like a threat. Just enough to maybe make her wonder why he was so insistent on this, what exactly he had done that he was trying so desperately -- and, as much as he hated to admit it, futily -- to save her from. “You just laid eyes on me for the first time not two hours ago. So I don’t know what’s rattling around in that head of yours, but you got no clue what you’re tryin’ to get yourself into. And you know what? I sure as hell ain’t gonna let you fine out. You think you’re some hot stuff, that you can save someone who don’t wanna be saved just cause you got a pretty face and a good heart. Here’s a news flash for you, sugar: you ain’t all that. I never let anyone in up to this moment, and I ain’t gonna start now.”

This was too much. He dropped her face perhaps a bit harshly and looked away from her once more. These words, this sudden disdain began pouring out of him the second she started getting snippy with him. He knew it wasn’t real, he didn’t mean any of what he was saying, but it was suddenly hard to stop himself from getting just as annoyed with her as she seemed to be with him. “I ain’t gon’ tell you again, cher. Get on outta here, or I’m gonna freeze you up and leave you to thaw so I can go home without you followin’ me.”

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Iona’s eyebrows raised slightly, pulling away from him just enough to give his place an incredulous look. Even someone as sleazy as him had to aspire to more than what he had at the moment. From what she knew, he once lived in the lap of luxury. Surely he wanted that again? It didn’t really matter aside from being a tool to manipulate him, but for some reason, she got the stupidest urge to pull him out of the hole he had dug himself into. Pushing that thought down, she focused her bright blue eyes back on him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Petre.”

Taking a slow, deep breath, she searched for the right words. “Your family keeps records. Everyone they’ve ever bribed or extorted or tortured or killed and who committed those crimes. I need those records.” A small pause happened as she worked to keep her voice even. She was so close. “I’m not looking to arrest anyone or make some major bust or something stupid like that. I’m a journalist, not a cop, but even that doesn’t matter. This is personal. You’re a criminal. You can appreciate that, can’t you? Some of your family’s men killed someone very important to me. I want to find them and give them what they deserve.”

He began to push her off of him, the confusion now blatant on his features, mixing with the intense feeling of offense as she asked him to betray his family without batting an eye. So she knew about him. Fine. She knew that his so called family had thrown him aside like an empty bottle, spent of all use and value, and he was expected to simply go on with his life as though nothing had happened. And she marched right into his apartment with some sweet innocent little act and expected him to spill his blood for her? She was pretty, but not that pretty. No one was that pretty.

“Fuck you,” he spat at her, neck craning to try and at least feel like he had the upper hand here, attempting to put himself above her eye level, or at the very least meet it, “You know nothing. You are nothing, no one! You -- you think I give you whatever you want just because you have tits and nice ass? No. No, you need -- you need to leave now. Before I blow your fucking brains onto my walls.” Jaw clenched and veins bulging, he only broke eye contact to seek out where exactly he had left his gun and, upon discovering it was too far out of reach, he began scanning the room for something closer that he could use as a weapon, should he need to.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Lux huffed a small laugh, the sound not dissimilar to the sound of bells in the wind. “I’m not human. I’m fae. I’m part of the forest.” As she spoke, she pressed one hand to the ground, dragging it across the dirt. As it moved, small flowers grew and bloomed as magic fell from her fingers. As her hand stopped, a particularly bright and large daisy grew and she picked it, holding it out to him with a small, nervous smile. “Here. Do you have any magic?” He seemed to lack the brightness that fae held, but she hoped that he had magic. It seemed such a sad life to have no magic at all.

She shook her head, hair tumbling around her face. “I think your eyes are weak. Maybe humans can’t see what fae see. I look very different from you.” To her, it was like she glowed, bright and brilliant with veins like tree roots and eyes like the sun. He was plain, just flesh and blood and apart from the earth, rather than being a part of it. “I know what sleep is. Humans don’t usually sleep here. They usually run away or try to attack me.”

In the split second it took for her to sprout the flowers from thin air -- well, not so thin dirt, rather -- his expression shifted, the change rippling across it in waves. First confusion, then disbelief, finally settling on a sort of cold enthusiasm. His eyes glossed over, turning to resemble the eyes of a shark or a doll. Black and cold and vaguely unsettling in a way you can never quite put your finger on. It was a look that said he had a secret and you would only know when it was no longer convenient for him to keep it bottled up.

In this case, Henry was skimming through all the ways he could work this to his advantage. Spin a media storm, wealthy investor rescues fae girl from clutches of supernaturalist hate group? No. No, he didn’t need good publicity; he had more than his fair share of it after that charity something or other his brother had organized for him last month. Maybe something a touch more personal? Keep her and her magic for himself? No, that wouldn’t work either. He got bored too easily, and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, something he had to capitalize on. Something he had to share, but perhaps not with the world. Not the whole world, anyway. His own private universe.

He carefully reached out, taking the flower from her hand, fingers ever so delicately skimming against her skin as he did so, those glassy eyes boring into her the whole time. “You’re curious about humans? You could come with me. I could show you.” The velvet softness in his voice had taken on a predatory quality, almost purring the words at her through barred teeth. Maybe he’d get lucky and she wouldn’t notice.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Oh thank god he wasn’t completely useless. If she’d had to lead him through everything by the dick, she would have ended up losing patience in a bad way. That wouldn’t benefit either one of them, because she was pretty sure it would end up with her smashing a lamp over his head and then going through his belongings and that really wasn’t a good thing to do to a mafia prince, even one as terribly messy as him.

“I know a lot about you, Mr. Constantin, but you have nothing to fear from me,” she assured him, voice still low as she moved her her hands down across his chest. “What I want from you is information. I’m looking for some people, some records, some things that you can help me find.” God, she hoped he hated his family as much as she did. That would make things so much easier. “In return, I’ll give you whatever you want. Sex is the easiest, but if you’re a man of more particular tastes, I can also offer power and connections. And all you need to do is talk.”

There really wasn’t enough blood in his brain at the moment to inspire rational thought, much less figure out exactly what was going on. What he did know, however, was that this was in no way good. Now, had he been home, he would need only snap his fingers and two big brutes would bust the door down and drag her out, kicking and screaming, and he would be able to let loose his boner on any one of a room full of women who would be absolutely fucking honored to scream his name.

But he wasn’t home. He was in a shithole of a freezing cold apartment in America. And this woman, tricky as she was, seemed to be making a pretty good deal. Not good enough, though. Very close. He sniffed loudly and slowly removed his hands from her body, bringing one hand up to instead scratch at his chin. “I... I have... what I want.” He hoped it didn’t seem like as much of a lie to her as he knew it was. “What you want me tell you?” he asked quietly, still eyeing her suspiciously. It was getting awfully uncomfortable, sitting like this. He hoped the situation would resolve one way or another; either she would go to bed with him -- the favorable outcome -- or she would leave and Petre would be alone at last, ready to take care of himself in blissful solitude and then go back to sleep. Actually, neither option sounded bad, so long as one came quickly.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Though patience wasn’t entirely Caius’ strong point, he had gotten better at controlling himself after centuries of life. He couldn’t rush her into believing and if the silence of his heart was what she needed to understand that he wasn’t joking, then he would let her check every inch of him for a pulse. He had done the same to himself after he first changed. Memories flashed into his mind of a priest in pirate’s garb, thin fingers trembling as he sat on the beach and pressed them against his chest over and over again, searching for a warmth he would never find again.

“Why don’t I have a heartbeat, love?” He echoed, amusement moving across his features as his eyes never left her face. “Because two hundred and eighty six years ago I happened to be marooned on a tiny, shitty island inhabited by a lonely vampire with a penchant for men of the cloth.” Lucky for him that he had memorized more than enough passages to convince the creature that he had dedicated his life to God, despite outward appearances. Unfortunately, that piousness didn’t last long after he was bitten, burning away as he stole a ship and left its crew to starve.

Slowly, gently, he reached out and brushed his fingers across her cheek, expression as sweet as he could manage. “This is a gift, beautiful. It hurts now, but the pain will fade and you will be more powerful than any human could ever imagine. No one can stand against you. No will will even try. You’ll be like me, perfectly frozen in time with the strength of a god.”

“That’s not true,” she rebutted, her voice merely a whisper, bottom lip trembling, “That -- that can’t be true. Vampires aren’t real. It’s not real!” Even with her frustration beginning and ending with him, Britta’s first reaction was to bury herself even deeper into Caius, clutching onto him with hands that refused to stop shaking.

This was a gift? All this pain? And for what? To have to drink blood for the rest of eternity, never going out into sunlight, never breathing or having a heartbeat ever again? How was that a gift? How could that possibly be a good thing? I mean, sure, Caius seemed to be pulling it off well, but. That was different. This all seemed so nice when you were only watching it on a television screen or drinking in words with hungry eyes, mind running wild with if onlys, thinking about what it would be like. But real life wasn’t supposed to be like that, as much as you sometimes thought you wanted it.

“I -- I don’t want this,” she breathed, barely audible, “I didn’t want this. I want it to go back to normal. I don’t want this! Why did you do this to me?” Honestly, she had already fucked up her life enough in the twenty two years she spent on earth. What the fuck made her think she could handle an eternity of this? She had been so broke and desperate she moved in with some guy she barely even knew and let him be her sugar daddy. Those were the good decisions that had apparently been worthy of the gift of eternal life. At least she wasn’t the only one severely lacking in the judgement department.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

He was so strange and only getting stranger the more he talked. What kind of person laughed when someone else was on the verge of tears? It seemed very mean, truth be told, but the apology that followed allowed her to assume that it was simply confusion on her part. Maybe she had heard his tone of voice wrong. Humans were difficult to understand on a good day, let alone when her head felt like she had tumbled off a very high tree.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” she mumbled, slowly gathering up the courage to move closer to the stranger. “You were not moving and you were strange. I wanted to know more. Most humans don’t let me close enough to touch.” Not for lack of trying, honestly. Most people ended up frightened when they saw an unknown girl in the forest, as curious as she was strange. She wondered if he would run away now that he was awake or if he would indulge her desire to learn ever more about the things around her.

Carefully, ever so carefully, she crept closer. Her bright eyes moved across his body, though they kept flickering back to his face just in case he tried to run. “My head hurts. I think it will go away in time.” It didn’t seem bad enough to require magic, but that was irrelevant. She couldn’t heal her own head and there were no other fae to call upon for help. “Tell me about you. About being human.”

He chuckled again, a look of intense confusion flashing across his features for a moment this time. “Tell you about being human? Isn’t that what you are too?” Okay, now he was really confused. Realistically, it was human common sense to not wander around the woods naked, and he had heard rumors about some sort of hunting party that had invaded this forest in particular and found something that someone had tried very desperately to cover up, but he had merely took the rumor and filed it away as a reason why the price suddenly hiked up when things began to come to light, as his real estate agent put it. No. No, no, no. This was ridiculous. He had much better things to be doing with his time.

“You look pretty human to me, little one,” he told her, the smile playing at his lips now more than a little disingenuous, turning more annoyed than apologetic or welcoming, “I was sleeping, that’s why I wasn’t moving. You know what sleep is, yeah? When you close your eyes for a long time and have dreams about nice things?” He had begun to talk to her as though she were an incompetent child. He didn’t mean to snap, to sound so condescending, but he was beginning to think someone on the board was playing a trick on him. Alright Jim, you got me. I didn’t answer your email in time and this is what I get for it. Very funny. Time to go home now, and take your little friend here with you.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Ten years and countless victims, running across every mile of the country and staining it red with the blood of the people whose lives they stole. Sam and Dean Winchesters, mad brothers with a taste for blood. No one knew them, but everyone feared them. It wasn’t their fault that they did what they did, or at least that was the lie that they repeated every day to stave off the hollow ache of guilt.

Madness licked at Dean’s mind every waking moment, as it had done for as long as he could remember. It was an endless fire burning away every inch of him to leave nothing but bleach white bones and a hole where his heart should be. He could hear screaming and see the bodies of their victims, but nothing haunted him like the fire that stole their mother. He could never erase that from himself, a scar etched onto his very soul. He wanted to die, but he wanted live forever among the flames. He was caught between death and life, flickering on the edge of existence. The only thing that kept him from disappearing into his madness was Sam.

Oh precious Sammy, caught up in his brother’s madness and twisted by his father’s grief until there was nothing left of him but a hollow ache deep in his chest. It left him wishing for more but knowing that he could never hold love that was given to him. He knew that he was important though. He was the only thing that could keep Dean alive and the only thing that could end his life; his careful hand kept the balance between fire and ice. He would never end his brother though, so they went on tearing up the world and leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

Truth be told, she was sick of it all. She was sick of dedicating her entire life to helping people just to have her help repaid with distrust and judgement. Fine, so she had been forced to leave the university one semester shy of getting her degree. And alright, maybe the reason she had to leave was because she had been framed and, subsequently accused of, murdering a professor in cold blood. That was all anyone ever talked about. Not how she had proved herself not guilty, not how she had gone back and finished her criminal psychology degree at another college, and certainly not how she had spent her entire life since then independently educating herself about and tracking down some of the most elusive and mysterious criminals who the FBI had let slip through their fingers without a second thought.

Every book she published about it, every case finally solved and handed over to the proper authorities and, finally, closed, all anyone ever talked about was her own criminal past. No one cared that she hadn’t actually committed the crime in question. No one gave a fuck about all the good she was doing, pouring her entire life into one goal, one pursuit. No, all they cared about was getting the sound byte of her talking about her own infamous case, making the headline something big and flashy and horrifically untrue.

She tried to convince herself none of that mattered. All that was important was helping the victims and their families, providing some sort of closure. Seeing the people behind such evil deeds be put in a place where they would never be able to hurt anyone ever again. Sometimes it was hard to remember that people themselves weren’t evil; actions were evil, and people could do evil things. No human being was evil, though. Yeah, sometimes it was really hard to try and keep that in mind. Especially when some of these bastards got away with such awful things for so long.

Letting out a deep sigh, she flipped through photo after photo from crime scenes, trying to put herself inside the mind of whatever sick fuck had given her a thick enough file she could almost use it as a ladder. Motioning to the waitress, Talia held up her empty coffee cup, bleary eyes glued to the pictures and reports splayed out on the grimy diner table before her. As she refilled the ceramic mug, the waitress blanched, trying her best to watch what she was doing without catching sight of the depravity displayed in the evidence Talia was examining with such fervor. Talia muttered a quiet thanks as the bell above the diner’s front door jingled.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Marigold couldn’t help but think that maybe her mother was right, especially as the tall, craggy trees of the Dark Forest seemed to be growing more and more ominous the closer she got to her destination. Don’t go into the Dark Forest, she’d always said, even all the way back when Mari was a little girl. It’s full of monsters and magic that’ll turn you to stone in seconds if you step wrong. It’s a place only the dying ones or the dark ones went. According to her mother – and, admittedly, almost everyone else in the kingdom – it was perhaps the worst place in the entire world and certainly no place for a princess, even one with skill in fighting. Yet it was also the place where the only person who could save her kingdom resided.

Sure, she had enough guards with her to be relatively well protected, but what good were swords against magic? But there was no time to be afraid. The wicked king’s army was marching on her home and if she didn’t hurry, she would lose a lot more than she could bear. So she moved onward, walking for what seemed like forever before finally finding the small cottage described in the stories. It seemed a glittering gem in a sea of darkness, emanating warmth and seemingly so inviting it was nearly impossible to resist. That, she supposed, was the very intention of the creature that lived inside.

Slowly, she went up to the door, glancing back at her guards for a moment to make sure they were ready before she gently knocked. There was silence for so long that she was beginning to think maybe the wix wasn’t home, but finally, with a creak so loud she was tempted to cover her ears, the door was pushed open and she was met with the view of someone who looked far too pleasant to be the same creature that the stories spoke of. Even as the thing invited her and her guards inside, Mari felt no reason to be afraid. 

After informing the wix of her situation, it told her that it could definitely save her kingdom, but her joy was short lived as the creature promptly reminded her that all magic comes with a price. Her offers of gold, of jewels, and of a position of high status in the kingdom were all shot down. It had no need for anything that normal people might have craved. Instead it desired a favor. It needed an amulet to be taken somewhere, which seemed simple enough. She could just have one of her messengers take a horse and perhaps an armed guard could accompany them, but it seemed that would not satisfy the wix.

The creature in all it’s undecipherable weirdness insisted that it had to be the princess that delivered the amulet and that the place it was meant to be delivered to was not somewhere that could be traveled to by simple horse. As explained by the wix, it was another world, a place reached only by a great amount of magic. The real weight of the trade – the real cost of the safety of her kingdom – was only clear to her once the creature explained that it would not be able to bring her back; she would be trapped in another world forever, or at least until she found a way to get home herself. She was no witch and thus doubted she would ever find a way back, but she was still ready to make the trade. She would make the sacrifice for the good of her people because that was what a good ruler did, even if she wasn’t quite a ruler yet.

So, after writing out a letter to be delivered to her parents to explain how much she loved them and how much she hoped they were prosper without the threat of war on their doorstep and after saying goodbye to those who had guarded her for so long, she followed the creature down into the cellar of the cottage. There was little she understood about the ritual, but a glowing door appeared in the middle of the room, somehow both inviting but terrifying. Tucking the amulet into the pocket of her cloak and clarifying her instructions with the wix, she took a deep breath and stepped through.

For a moment, everything went bright and she felt as though she was falling. As she came to her senses again, she blinked slowly, taking in the sight of things that she had certainly never seen before. She was terrified and perhaps more confused than she had ever been before, but she had no choice but she stand tall and try to figure things out. Slowly, she approached the first person she saw, someone dressed unlike anything she’d ever seen. 

“Excuse me? Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but I’m afraid that I need help. You see, I’ve just made a deal with the wix in the Dark Forest and it sent me here to fulfill my part of the bargain but I…oh, I am afraid I have no idea where here is. I’m terribly confused and I was wondering if perhaps you could tell me how to get to the Forest of Dean? If you cannot, then perhaps you could direct me to the nearest witch or wizard that might know of the things of which the wix spoke?”

It had been an awfully long day. Sometimes Roger wondered why in heaven’s name he decided that applying to the Apple store was a good idea. Too many unintelligent and angry people day after day. He was just trying to do his job. Whenever he told someone something was wrong with their computer, he was only trying to help and yet they took it as a personal attack. Though, he supposed he could understand. His own laptop was monstrously important to him. Was it a little unhealthy, being around technology so incessantly? If you listened to everything about electrical pollution and too many of the wrong type of ion in the air, yes. And if he was a touch antisocial when he went home, it was only because he was so exhausted from one too many customers wondering why exactly they needed a computer with Retina display.

At that particular moment, he had just left the store, the mall even, and was about to open the door to his car when a voice behind him made him jump, plastering himself to the car door, heart beating in his ears. He tried to turn around as quickly as possible, flash the person an apologetic smile and smooth himself out. When he caught hold of her, though, he was more than just a little confused. As she explained herself the feeling only grew. He frowned in concentration, adjusting his glasses, one palm still flat against the car door.

“Well,” he began, with a soft clearing of the throat, “Here is the Aberdale Mall, north second level parking lot.” He was trying very hard not to judge. Maybe she was just an overenthusiastic cosplayer? Renaissance fair employee who would be fired for breaking character? Method actor who was an extra on Game of Thrones one time? “I, uhm. I don’t know where the Forest of Dean is; I actually don’t think we have any forests around here. And I’ve never met anyone who did magic, at least no one who advertised it, but maybe you’re looking for the convention center? The con doesn’t start until this weekend, but there’s a hotel right next door. Are you from out of town? I could give you directions if you need them.”

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

“Shhh, darling, I promise you’ll be alright,” he assured her, voice soft as silk as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He would never have turned her if there was any risk of it causing her damage, especially not if it risked her death. Well, true death, that was. Being a vampire was being undead, but that was an entirely different type of dead than dead dead. Definitely preferable, he figured, but he couldn’t really say with any certainty as he’d never actually spoken to a truly dead person, nor had he ever been dead himself. Whatever, being immortal was the best; anyone would agree. Not vampire hunters, he supposed, but he had no qualms about ripping each and every one of them to shreds, so their opinions didn’t really count. 

Taking a deep breath that he didn’t need, he prepared to break the news. It wouldn’t be easy. It could never be easy to have one’s entire world flipped around, to find out that not only did vampires exist, she had become one of them. Still, he would be there for her every step of the way. He wouldn’t fail her. For a moment that lasted longer than he cared to admit, he thought back to someone else, to someone with shaking hands and a failing heart that he thought he could save. Then he thought about their funeral pyre and his unbeating heart ached. Quickly as he could manage, he pushed that thought away.

“Nothing is wrong with you. It’s just the venom moving through your system. It hurts because you’re dying, but you won’t be dead when it’s over. You’ll be like me.” Explaining it was never easy, but he couldn’t leave her hanging. “Immortal. Stronger than any human. Your senses will be more powerful. You’ll be better, faster, more incredible than anyone else. You’re, well, believe it or not, you’re a vampire now.”

She paused, trying to take his words in and desperately wondering if he actually thought she would take him seriously. With a frown, she sniffled loudly, trying to drive her shoulder hard into him as a scolding. All she managed was a weak shuffling motion that sent her wincing once more. “Okay, I get it. I made you watch Twilight last week and now this is payback. Ha ha, very funny. Any other time, I’d be laughing my head off, really, but I’m in a lot of pain and you’re not funny.’ The last bit was mumbled, feeling her voice break, as though simply talking about the pain somehow managed to amplify it.

He had to have been making fun of her though, right? Vampires weren’t real. There was no way vampires were real, and there was especially no way that she just happened to meet some hot guy who was also a vampire and he, what? Turned her in her sleep? Actually broke skin when they were making out last night and she somehow didn’t notice? Of course, she had always made fun of the penchant he seemed to hold for necking, but so what? Lots of people got crazy turned on by neck kissing.

Most of all, though, she had spent every night for the past two weeks sleeping practically on top of him. There was no way she had somehow missed the fact that he was lacking a heartbeat. No. No, this was crazy. She needed him to take her to the hospital, not sit there and make fun of her for reading one too many bad romance novels. Still, it was a thought though. If he did have a heartbeat, then, well. That would disprove his theory right away, and if he still insisted he was immortal, she could book him an appointment with a shrink while she packed her bags.

Britta moved one trembling hand from his shoulder to rest just beneath on his chest. She tried to press against him with all her might, feel his heartbeat strong and solid under her palm. At first, she thought maybe she had the wrong place, the wrong side of him maybe, so she pushed two fingers to his neck at the base of his jaw. Swallowing hard, she tipped her head back to look at him, eyes wide and teary. “Cai, why don’t you have a heartbeat?”

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Lux certainly hadn’t expected him to wake up so violently and the feeling of his head colliding with her’s brought out a series of whimpers as she skittered backwards, one hand pressed up against the location of impact. Tears welled at the edge of her eyes and her lip quivered as she waited for the pain to pass. It was far from the first time she’d sustained an injury, but the surprise of it accompanying her nervousness around the stranger seemed to amplify the pain radiating through her head.

Still, despite her fear, she didn’t go far. Her bright eyes remained focused on the man in front of her, looking over every inch of him as she felt herself overwhelmed with curiosity. She had seen a few non-fae men come through her clearing before, but they rarely lingered and they never slept and thus she was never given a chance to get a good look at how they differed from the people she knew. Fae were much more delicate, created from the trees and the flowers and the earth and shining from the inside out with a radiant sort of magic. Humans just seemed dull, but she wouldn’t hold that against them. Maybe their magic was just hidden deeper inside.

That train of thought was what kept her from running away entirely, disappearing up a tree and waiting for him to leave. She had to know more. It was her curse, a curiosity burned in the pit of her stomach that was never quite sated. Of course, there was always more to learn, so how could she ever be satisfied with only knowing part of what there was to learn? That was why she echoed his word back at him, gentle and sweet as she watched him. “Hi.”

He chuckled softly in disbelief, her reaction so extreme it was amusing. His concentrated efforts to sit up had been instead directed towards trying to maintain eye contact. “Don’t cry sweetheart,” he said, a slight laugh creeping into his voice, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m sorry. You just surprised me.” He still had no idea what she was doing out here, and especially not why she was so terribly naked. It raised more than a few questions.

“Are you alright? Can I help you?” Those were only the ones at the forefront of his mind. Even when confused and under slight duress -- he could already feel the potential lawsuits if something went even a little bit sideways with this, a naked girl with a head injury in a secluded location? Nothing about this was good news -- he somehow managed to keep his voice velvet smooth and his tone even. It was a skill that came from one too many intense boardroom meetings. Never show weakness in the face of the enemy, right? Normally the enemy was a panel of equally sleezy and even more rich men in well-tailored suits, but the same rules should apply when dealing with a strange little girl.

He should be concerned about her. Outwardly it probably seemed like he was; he sounded sincere enough, after all. But he was still only worried about himself. He was already mentally writing out a statement for his lawyer, thoroughly convinced that she was going to sue him the exact instant she saw his picture online and realized who he was. No, he only needed to sound heartfelt to cover his own ass. Let hers stay the way it was. She did have an exceptional body, after all.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

It wasn’t that Dean hated people. Honestly, that was about as far from the truth as one could get. He was an extrovert at heart. Once upon a time, he had been outgoing and bright and armed with a smile that could convince the world that he might have been the sun wrapped up in flannel and scars. Back then, sometimes he had dreams of a normal life, of a wife and kids and a picket fence with a dog named Spot where he had Sam over for dinner once a week. Sure, they were stupid, impossible dreams, but they were better than blurry, drunken comas and the feeling of broken glass against the soles of his feet. He wanted all those stupid things back, but he couldn’t have them, not unless someone found a cure for whatever he was. Or maybe even just an explanation.

What he wanted wasn’t really important, however, though that had always been a fact throughout his life. If he stayed out in society, any number of people could disappear – or die, as he tended to assumed happened. He didn’t actually know what happened to them, but they weren’t around anymore and they didn’t show up on any EVP, so death was the safest bet. It didn’t matter, honestly. They suffered and it was his fault. He refused to let that be the truth about anyone else in the world, no matter the cost he paid. 

Still, his fears weren’t enough to abandon the poor woman to fed for herself when he knew damn well there were any other houses for at least ten miles in every direction. “Wait.” He gave a rough grunt, shutting the door and disappearing for a minute or so. When he returned, he was wearing a long sleeved shirt and a pair of leather gloves, every inch of skin except his head covered up and a bottle of liqueur in his hand. “Come in, but don’t touch me. I don’t have a landline, but you can plug in your phone. It’s one of those…interchangeable charger things,” he explained, stepping back away from the open door and gesturing at a cord connected to the wall.

The door slammed shut in her face. Okay then. She stood there in total shock for a moment, eyes wide and eyebrows practically up in her hairline. She was about to start walking again, look for another place to stop, when the door opened back up. The word wait actually hadn’t registered in her head. All she had seen was the door open and close. And then open again, and now some weirdo who was dressed for an excursion to the North Pole.

As she stepped past him into the house, she eyed him strangely, trying to keep as big of a distance between them as possible. He wanted her not to touch him, he got. No arguing on her end. This wasn’t a porno, her car didn’t conveniently break down outside of his place so they could bang while waiting for a tow truck. No touching. “Expecting a snowstorm anytime soon? Or are you one of those germaphobes?” Talia had never been the most delicate person and now was no exception. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate his help, but he was. Well. He was weird. Gracious, but weird. 

It was a nice place, though. Spacious. A little crudely decorated, but nice. “Nice,” she muttered to herself, drumming her fingers against the screen of her phone. Chewing on the inside of her cheek, she slowly made her way over to the outlet, nodding appraisingly as she walked. Didn’t look like he was a serial killer, but the gloves were still creepy. Chances of survival were looking up.

Not for her phone, though. It even took a couple of seconds for the blinking red battery to show up on the screen. Maybe she would be here for awhile. Talia let out a deep sigh and fell back against the wall, sliding down to the floor when she felt something solid against her back. “Nice place you got here,” she told him, raising her voice slightly to make sure he would hear her this time, “I’m Talia by the way. I really appreciate this, man.” It never occurred to her how equally weird sitting on a stranger’s floor was, even as she sat there still making a mental list of everything that was off about this guy and his house.

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Viola liked Nic better than his brother, even if he wasn’t the greatest at the whole ‘running a business’ part of being the boss. She missed Angelo, of course, but he had lacked that genuine sweetness that came from Nic. The former had taken care of his girls – that was never in question – but it had been with a sort of professional distance that she had come to expect from men in such a position. The latter, however, cared about his girls enough that it made Vi worried that one of them might just break his heart. He was a delicate thing in a world full of indelicacies.

Hearing ‘kid’ from Nic was enough to pull a slightly annoyed scoff from her, but she decided not to protest otherwise. Some fights were worth getting up in arms and a stupid word wasn’t exactly one of them, even if the concept of her being a kid to any extent was a raw spot for her. She’d grown up way too fucking fast, no thanks to her charming set of parents that dropped her on her ass at the first sight of a positive pregnancy test. Vi hadn’t spoken to them in years and, honestly, she wasn’t too keen on arranging any emotional reunions anytime soon.

She shifted just slightly, attempting to keep her shorts from digging too far into the crack of her ass while she lay on her makeshift bed. Some stray salt from a body shot pressed into the back of her neck, but it was no worse than the sweat, glitter and smoke that already tinged her skin and hair. Classy was a word that she’d thrown out the window a long time ago, back when people decided girls like her were simply trashy no matter what.

“Aren’t you sweet as sugar?” Vi teased, voice rasping slightly. There was a brief paused filled by the rise and fall of her chest as she sighed before she spoke again. “I think I’ll have to take you up on that if you don’t want me to go postal anytime soon.” A low laugh escaped her as she tilted her head up to look at him better.

He smiled at her, both hands now resting on her knees, leaning on them slightly to get a better look at her. “I still have some of Angelo’s stash,” he told her in a stage whisper, making exaggerated glances around, as though someone else might be listening. It’s not like he didn’t trust his girls. He trusted them with his life. Quite literally. If even one of them were to rat on him, that’d be it. Club would be shut down, and Nic would be put away, locked up for whatever he had left of the best years of his life. Still, he held one finger up to his lips, doing his best to seem serious, but the wide grin on his face said otherwise.

Lightly slapping both of her knees, he then gave them a light squeeze, something that tried to be encouraging. “You can help yourself. Within reason. You did good today.” It was weird thinking that half of the file cabinet in the back office still had Angelo’s stuff in it. Drug and guns and all types of paperwork that Nic had no idea how to make head or tail of. He had only touched Angelo’s stash once or twice since the funeral. Only when he really needed it, and then he took way too much out and hid the excess someplace else until it was finished. He wasn’t sure what it said about his character, though, that he would rather help the girls from his own supply instead of dipping into the extravagant supply of a brother he knew was never coming back.

Rationally, he knew. Sometimes it felt like he was only watching things for awhile until Angelo came home. He had done it before. Once Angelo took a month long trip to Italy to visit the family, come home with a pretty new wife and then took another month for an extended honeymoon. Of course, he had lost his mind when he came home and saw the mess his little brother had made of the business and swore then and there he’d never leave Niclas in charge again, but he always did. Even if Nic’s business skills were abysmal, they were brothers and Angelo was too paranoid to give the keys to anyone else.

Nic, on the other hand? A trusting fool, maybe. Something close to that. He dug the key to the file cabinet out of his pocket and held it out on one finger for Viola to take. “Behave yourself. I know exactly what’s in all the drawers. I would get something for you myself, you look so comfortable, but. Ah." He took a long, deep breath, his smile turning into a grimace. "You know.”

[viivavoce-blog]

ferasterrae:

Honestly, why couldn’t he have just been someone with loose lips that needed a couple bucks to start talking? She wanted information, not his dick. If she wanted the latter, well, she was certain to have gone out of her mind because there were plenty of classier people she could sleep with. Then again, she was the one using her body to get information from a mafia prince in order to get revenge on the people that killed her brother. Perhaps ‘classy’ wasn’t the best word to describe her – or her penchant for danger. God only knew what Andre was thinking if he was looking down on her and what she had become.

She pressed her lips against his, kissing him just long enough to leave him hungry for more before pulling back. Her hands went down to her shirt as she sat up, undoing the buttons and revealing exactly what she had to offer. What little patience she had was wearing down and his pushiness was not helping that at all. So one hand came up, gently gripping his chin as she looked down at him. “You have something I want, Petre, and I have something you want. Let’s make this mutually beneficial.”

His forehead wrinkled up, eyebrows knotting in confusion. Things were starting to not add up. He shifted under her again, this time out of necessity to accommodate for what was currently happening in his boxer briefs. He batted her hand away from his face, looking down and somewhere past her, maybe at the carpet. He was trying very hard not to let her distract him as he worked this out in his head. It would have, under normal circumstances, taken him quite a long time, but now? With a half naked woman on his lap? They might be there all night.

“How -- how you are knowing my name?” It was the only think he could think to say. Now, at the present moment, he knew his memory wasn’t the best -- actually, it was mostly shot from the drugs, no matter what the situation. He could hold grudges but that was about the extent of it -- but Petre was fairly certain he didn’t introduce himself. Hence his concern about the whole anonymous sex thing. “You are, uhm. You are wanting money, yes?” It was the only thing he could think of that he had to offer. “Drink, drugs, what? What you want?” Those were less likely, but he was still diligently trying to work this out.