VINDICATE.

[vindicain]

PINNED.

# VINDICAIN. fandomless, independent, private. original character CAIN SALAZAR. vigilante killer using the GHOSTFACE moniker. abilities include intangibility and extensive combat knowledge. written by ana.

a study of generational violence, fate vs. free will, revenge, vindication, and their ongoing cycle, can a killer be a hero?

links: home ✖ ask ✖ basics ✖ carrd

[nonaturel-deactivated20230803]

people like me ? he smiles, laughs, a malicious mirth swimming in the crystal grey-blues of his eyes. he knows what cain means, after all, he sees in the psychedelic images of his mind. you, cain insists. not your kind. our kind. lestat quirks a brow, i'm not your kind, what a spectacular ego.

" well, insisting we are peas in a pod is a proposition of it's own, is it not ? " he waves a hand, shrugs. " this proposition has no charm, really, certainly no romance, " he drags on the word romance, gives this petit four a once over. what a shame ! for such a pretty boy to have not a single delicate word in his head.

he breathes through his nose, an airy laugh like he's thought of something a little too-sharp. " i can see how it might confuse you, that the rest of us might easily find warm beds. but it's no matter — i don't mind the title, save the grammatical error. i would be le romantique. "

[vindicain]

his laugh is genuine, clear and ringing like bells, but not the point of cain's focus; instead, he holds the sharpness of that gaze with his own, cataloguing the malice he finds there. the role of predator is usually his to play. the people are a flock of sheep to pick the weak and the sick from, spilling blood with a grim blade.

the most dangerous game, cain thinks, and finds they do not quite enjoy the new title of PREY that has been foisted upon them.

“ are we that different? ” cain insists. “ i'm sure you're just as bored with the monotony of people as i am. why else toy with them like a cat does a canary? ” he clicks his tongue against his teeth loudly, dark eyes lifting in a roll. “ excuse me. lestat de lioncourt le romantique. i could just as easily find a warm bed that would happily keep me. ” cain shows teeth, not even close to a smile. “ i don't want to. it would be a waste of my time. ”

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Vita Sackville-West, from “Solitude.”

[latibule-e-deactivated20231012]

— Catherynne M. Valente, from “Deathless.”

[vindicain]

‘ oh, and when this is over, remind me to give you a kiss. ’

“ promise? ” cain purrs, and it's sickly sweet, like hard candy left to melt on white-hot cement, like flower petals rotting where they've fallen off the stem. the arc of their blade is practiced, measured, restrained in a way that took years of practice. nour is intimately aware of the grace and speed cain is capable of, a watchful, silent presence over cain's shoulder on particularly interesting targets, but they find themselves wanting to show off for him anyway. surely, as someone that commits his own lion's share of violence, his opinion is worth considering.

blood gurgles from an open throat, oozing down either side of a wrinkled, brown neck, and the rattle of breath through fractured ribs is loud, perfect, like music to cain's ears. the stake he'd laughably tried to lunge at nour with harmlessly clatters out of his fingers. they drag the tip of their knife down the man's jaw, a caress in another world, and cut heavy-lidded, gleaming eyes to nour.

“ last time you didn't come through. it's not very nice to get my hopes up. ”

@indeath

[vindicain]

❛ what you want is very wrong. ❜ ( sherlock ) ✖ horror themed starters

silence falls for a long, pointed moment, the gap cain leaves after sherlock's statement charged with something, pregnant with promise. he should have something witty to say, a biting, sarcastic comment to make him eat the words he so confidently and carelessly spits out into the world. it isn't unusual for his motives to be questioned; the press does it as regularly as cain slips unseen into dark rooms and leaves without a speck of blood on him.

why does this bother him so?

cain watches him, and he waits, and he stays very, very still.

“ what i want, ” he begins, his consonants strong, harsh, “ is for the world to be a less cruel place. imagine, for a minute, what it would be like if people stopped hurting each other and taking advantage of the weaker individuals around them. ” too angry. cain hears it in his own voice. he carefully leans back in his chair, aims for nonchalance as he crosses his arms. “ is that so terrible? ”

@sayekh

[vindicain]

‘ well, there you have it. everlasting love. ’

“ i didn't think people like you believed in love. ”

the implication of people like you is clear: not vampires, not blond-haired, blue-eyed frenchmen, but lestat specifically. cain thinks he's a lot like them – odd, out of place. they look in on society rather than existing within it, content to hold themselves at a distance from society. cain, though, engages with the trivialities, exchanging small talk and smooth, plastic smiles for his own selfish benefit.

he imagines lestat doesn't have the same requirement to do so. the drag of cain's eyes is obvious, from the expensive points of lestat's shoes to the halo of golden hair above an ivory forehead. they're not ashamed of their curiosity.

“ they should add another title to your name. lestat de lioncourt the romantic. ” a pause between the drawl of his voice, his lips pursing in thought. “ whatever the fuck it is in french. l'romantique? ”

@nonaturel

[fasciinating]

                         A measure of anticipation peels Spock up from his seat, and he’s pushing a folder toward Cain. Inside would reveal a man, early fifties, and particularly elusive of local enforcement for his crimes against youth. “ This, ” he informs, which would be wolfish if his expression were not so contained, “ — I thought you might like to go hunting. Together. ”

[vindicain]

he drags the folder towards himself with a single finger, flipping it open once it's there — nondescript, older man, dressed sharply. there's nothing to indicate what type of person he is.

cain hates him anyway.

“ i usually hunt alone. ” they fan out the photographs, mouth tightening into a line when he reaches one with the man resting a heavy hand on a small shoulder. anticipation skitters up their spine, and they make an unusual snap decision. “ tell me what you know about him. we'll do it together. ”

[tendersugarr]

Scream (1996)

[vexastre-deactivated20230617]

" hmn. then i am afraid of how irritating you are ... ough ~ "   a mock shiver.   " i am shaking. "

there is something about cain's careful tone that irks them. it stirs within vex an unfamiliar feeling; one that their companion does not ordinarily rouse. fondness. they respond with claws dug into the ground, shucking shards of earth free as they roll to face cain, one hand planting itself to the left of him, the other to the right, legs lain out to the side, languid as usual.

they don't say anything at first. the silence isn't so much heavy as charged. vex studies cain intently, pale hair spilling along the curve of his horns as he tilts his head to do so. they're close now - so close, in fact, that the faint humming of vex's core can be heard, just barely beneath a cavernous rumble from his chest, one that cuts off abruptly as he speaks.

" lucky me. "

the creature looks at the blade; they look at cain. a smile all but bleeds across their face, sickly slow delight.   " but if i ever did ... how would you do it? " vex's tail circles the stump, nudges through the crook of cain's arm, slips around his waist, loosely.

" you are clearly so confident and capable. "   eyes flare open a touch, gleeful, cain was the one to light this fire, but now vex basks in its warmth as he piles on the gasoline.   " big bad killer. so ... hunting me; killing me. "   a beat.   " how would you do it? "

[vindicain]

“ i consider it a talent. ” they barely have to lift a finger and somehow they are under vex’s skin all the same, rooted in their veins and teeth sunk into their bones.

vexatious moves, sinuous and perfectly controlled, and cain’s eyes drop to watch how his fingers rend through soft, gritty dirt, blades of grass sheared in two. their arms are deceptively strong on either side of him, and cain detects a steady, repetitive thrum, like an engine purring beneath the hood of a car. he remains almost inhumanly still through what he is sure is vexatious testing him, just the rise and fall of his chest giving him away as still alive. still breathing.

“ i’m not sure that i could kill you. ” the confession leaves them before they’ve fully formed the thought, and cain bites the inside of his own cheek. vexatious’s tail is a constant, distracting weight around the cut of his waist, and cain uses his free hand to drag curious fingertips down a few inches of it, smooth and alien against his skin. “ hunting, though... ”

he glances up at him from beneath black lashes, laser focused.

“i’d tail you. not often, and not consistently; you’d know i was there if i did. ” he lifts the knife to vexatious’s chest, tapping the blunt spine of it to his sternum. the hum reverberates through the metal, rattling the bones of his hands. “ if we were strangers, i’d watch you for as long as i had to for more information on this. ” a long pause, intentionally left. “ but not now. now, it would be different. ” a languid smile, finally, cain leaning so close their chests nearly touch. “ my aim would be to lull you into a false sense of security. entice you into trusting me through any means necessary. ”

[ebonyforged]

     Ebony would argue that she has quite the authority to make such bold claims, considering her experience with 'inhuman' spaces and monsters of all kinds. Of course, he can't have known that, yet his response raises a fair point despite lacking — hopefully — the perspective that she has.

     "You know, it's really not nice to call a lady a monster like that." She huffs, but seriously considers the question with an absent gaze pointed down at their hands. "Both. In the literal sense." She declares after a brief silence, smiling despite the implications. Supposedly born among humans but inhuman herself — she can't be far off even if she can't remember.

     Painted nails find the rim of her glass to trace it absently. "Go on, tit for tat. Though I'm more interested in the type of monster you are than how that came to be."

[vindicain]

his mouth twitches, amused, a smile flickering in the lines beside their nose. their intent hadn’t been to imply she was a monster. she’s still a stranger to him, a puzzle he hasn’t put together or, much more relevant, located and counted up all the pieces for. there’s a picture on a box and that’s all they’ve been given to work with; they breathe deep into their chest, ribs expanding, shouldering the challenge.

“ my apologies. i would never intentionally call a lady a monster. ” it hadn’t been their direct intent, but they’re here now. no taking the words back now. “ human spaces molded me into what i am. i’ve found that humans make the worst monsters of us. no bogeyman needed. ”

they blink slowly, pupils wide and sharp, and say, “ you offered the trade first. what kind of monster are you? ”

[vindicain]

what, you think i’m not qualified? ✖ morbid curiosity

“ no, ” cain deadpans, short and directly to the point. mincing words was a habit they picked up when they were young, sugar and sweet and everything nice to slide through unwanted evaluations of their mental state. they'd grown out of it long ago, though, preferring the more direct approach of brutal honesty. it frees them from conversations faster, and people are less likely to try and navigate one with him again. their attempts to be patient and tricky are directly related to how useful those traits will be further down the line.

they give him an obvious once over, glancing at his feet, his waist, and then back up to his face. their eyebrows raise.

“ you haven't really done much to convince me that you are qualified. ”

@kiriage

[eyesontaybert]

[vindicain]

stop, what are you talking about ? ✖ don't smile at me

“ why should i? ” cain challenges immediately, rising to the demand like choppy waves thrashing over a sandy shore. they'd been in the middle of leveling some very hefty accusations, sure, but he'd delivered it as neutral as possible. there had been no inflection in their voice at all, a computer spitting out words that had been typed into the text-to-voice feature, and still, cain had been cut off before they could get the rest of the thought out.

if it's one thing they hate, it's being told what to do.

“ you know what i'm talking about. you're not stupid. neither am i. ” their gaze is heavy-lidded, dark, their mouth in a flat line. “ am i right, or am i wrong? ”

@vilestblood

[phantombs]

Death touches them differently. Cường sees him in his dreams, has felt his gaze when he shuts his eyes to bathe, and when he’s tangled and feverish, feels lovers writhe and babble, sometimes, just sometimes, it's their nails down his back – but less nails, more knifepoints. More bleached, exposed bone. See, this killer flirts with death. This shade sows a garden. And Cường, infested, can’t seem to dig it out; no, it’s clung to all his rose beds, all barbs and gnawing weeds.

Damn it. Be the reaper’s sole paramour then, killer. Cường, pouring tea, is more adulterous.

“Hm. Customers are usually only difficult if they think I’m difficult. But I’m as a gentle a lamb. A spring lamb, even. I have the bright, pretty eyes. I hardly even bleat.” How asinine. Cường doesn’t know their ‘pastime,’ only hears the dead in their footsteps, but even then, all the same, this discussion’s gone mad. He’s no fighter, not a screamer, and they like their lambs – right? “We’ll get along fine. Won’t we?” Cường grabs a little jar of honey right as they approach, and as he stirs a dollop in his own hot teacup, the spoon, faux-silver, barely clanks. They sip, and he can tell the pure citrus hits them. Good, no? “Now, you're being melodramatic. I’m not a prisoner, silly. I work inhumane hours. I'm always on the clock, so if they come, I’ll serve.” How pedantic. Cường sits in his chair, raising his teacup, and standing there, Cain, careful-eyed, looms steam-obscured. “Hm. We just stumbled on one another tonight. Makes me wonder what else you take me as. Anyway, I hear a lot of things. But see more, too. And,” as a werewolf, “it’s made me open-minded. Even fairy tales we’ve heard aren’t completely untrue. Shouldn't we be afraid?”

[vindicain]

“ you don't strike me as a lamb, ” cain considers, an elbow bending and bracing on the counter to bring his chin into his palm. they study him openly, black eyes keen. “ curious, wide-eyed, sure. pretty and fresh as a lamb. i won't argue that. ” the tea is deposited in front of them, and cain drags a fingertip around the edge of the cup before lifting it to his mouth. forget the honey - bitter, always black, is how he takes his drinks. the citrus is fresh, sweet where it cuts through the earth, like his blade through skin. cain makes a low, pleased sound, tipping their chin down in a nod. “ thank you. i'd call you a kit, maybe. or a pup. a lamb doesn't grow fangs, but a wolf does. ”

though he hides his teeth well, they're not completely tucked away. not from cain, who searches specifically for signs that this demure, placid shopkeep is not all he seems to be. they gleam through his words, claws around the delicate handle of his spoon. he could be dangerous just like cain is.

“ how honorable of you, not to turn anyone away, ” cain drawls, thumbing the print of his lower lip off the outside of the mug. “ better than me. i love telling people to fuck off. ” a grin, aggressive and amused, bright white teeth between the red curl of his mouth. he's never been nice, and he doesn't pretend to be. it's a lie easily seen through. “ you must have seen quite a few things to entertain fantasy. ” it isn't too fantastic to be true, but cain can't come out and say that, can he? what an awful killer they'd make if they told anybody that looked at them with big, doe eyes what they get up to when the clock tolls midnight. “ if there's a reason to be afraid, sure - but i'm not worried. they have no reason to come after me. ” he cants his head. “ haven't you heard the rest of the story? they only hunt criminals. ”

[ohisms]

↪ 𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝑺𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑬 𝑨𝑻 𝑴𝑬 . ( a collection of lyric starters from an assortment of billie eilish songs . adjust phrasing as necessary . )

you scared me to death .

there's nothing left to save now .

i don't think i caught your name .

i like it when you take control .

you're sacred and they're starved .

how dare you ? and how could you ?

one of us is gonna lose .

i don't even really know how it happened .

i'm out of sympathy for you .

just let me hold you .

don't talk about me like you might know how i feel .

try not to abuse your power .

i wish someone had told me i'd be doing this by myself .

it's not like me to be so mean .

you just want what you can't have .

would you like me to be quiet ?

i haven't slept since sunday .

i don't want to want you .

it hurts , but i know how to hide it .

i'm the only one who does it how you like .

you better keep your head down .

a lot can change in twenty seconds .

why aren't you scared of me ?

i thought that i was special .

you're looking at me like i'm see-through .

you were a hero , you played the part .

i never really know how to please you .

see what you wanna see .

gold's fake , and real love hurts .

no way , i'll call the cops .

maybe you should leave before i get too mean .

i just wanted to protect you .

you only listen to your fuckin' friends .

they're never gonna give you love like ours .

all you wanna do is kiss me .

don't you know too much already ?

it's weird that we care so much until we don't .

i didn't change my number , i changed who i reply to .

i don't know what feels true .

did you really think this is the right thing to do ?

i would hate to see you go .

i'd never treat me this shitty .

i'll only hurt you if you let me .

you made me feel like it was my fault .

now i know what you are .

i feel more and more like i was made for you .

you wanna kill me ? you wanna hurt me ?

don't try to make me feel bad .

wait , you know what ? maybe just forget it .

was i made from a broken mold ?

you want me to be yours , then you've gotta be mine .

tell me "nothing lasts" , like i don't know .

wait a minute , let me finish .

you know i'm not your friend without some greenery .

my demands aren't high to make .

stop , what the hell are you talking about ?

we both know i'm worth waiting for .

you ruined everything good .

you really know how to make me cry .

your love feels so fake .

i wanna be alone . alone with you , does that make sense ?

spit it out , what is it exactly ?

i'll never let you go .

if we were meant to be , we would've been by now .

you can pretend that you don't miss me .

just fucking leave me alone .

don't say i didn't warn you .

it's pretty cool , right ?

i think i might have fallen in love .

i tried not to upset you .

do you even feel anything ?

don't ask questions , you don't wanna know .

i've been walking through a world gone blind .

i just wanna make you feel okay .

i know you don't care , but can you listen ?

don't you know i'm no good for you ?

[varyation]

@vindicain asked: what did you think was gonna happen? morbid curiosity prompts (accepting)

"Kinda what I just - saw." It came out low with a seesaw nod on 'just' then 'saw'. Punctuated.

Mobius stands beside Cain and the crowd dissolves in hushed murmurs, people chatting by unaware, both of them invisible. There's the news flashing on a screen about an assault-turned-mugging; a man pummeled on the street with onlookers watching on, no one stopping to help. Not rare. What do they call it? The bystander effect. Not that Mobius could do anything, either. He can't disrupt history. 

"Most people… you know- They see trouble, they head for the hills," he starts, flipping his palm upwards as he explains. He turns half around from a vending machine and had been eyeing a Pepsi. "And I thought—for a fleeting moment, and let's call it intuition—maybe you'd do something different."

[vindicain]

“ you knew it was going to happen. ” they don't pose it as a question. cain thinks he may already have the answer locked down.

he knows information about cain that he shouldn't. has a more intimate understanding of what makes them tick than any other person - besides maybe the doctors during their initial assessment when they were taken into custody by the state. they'd molded themselves into someone different since then, watching violence and brutality with barely a flicker of emotion. instead of stepping in, cain would happily catalogue the cruelty for later, only revealing it once again when there was a blade in their hand.

“ don't you know me better than that by now? ” he asks. “ if there's trouble brewing, i seek it out. it can be the perfect cover for my hobbies. ” their eyes drag from the crowd and to the vending machine morbius has half-turned away from. “ why would i draw attention to myself? pick something already. ”

[fasciinating]

                         It is not an assumption. But Spock can understand how it appears. It is quite an accusation for anyone to make, dangerous, foolish even, and specifically in the potential he is at all correct in his assessment regarding precisely who, or what, he has so boldly confronted them with. At the door, nothing passes over Spock’s face, carefully blank as he assesses them likely assessing him. It had taken Spock some time to locate this individual — a worthy note of comparison — and to that, he has no desire to be dismissed when he’s so close to what he has been searching for. Someone like him. “ Familiarity would not be entirely incorrect. However, I prefer the term recognition. ” Spock raises a brow, “ I could explain if you would invite me inside. ”

[vindicain]

his face is arranged to be perfectly blank, like cain is staring into the flat surface of puddle - or perhaps a mirror, the stillness a match to the meticulously arranged indifference in cain's own expression. they liken it to two stone soldiers facing off, a snake and a mongoose carved into an endless, unwinnable battle.

they don't want to be the one to give in first. letting him in is an incredible risk; however, something inspired him to show up at cain's front door. something put cain on his radar.

he needs to know what. if it goes south, they'll take it in stride.

“ fine. come in. ” cain steps out of the way, body tucked halfway behind the door, and studies his movement into the tiny apartment they call home. they swing it shut with a soft click, hinges creaking, and cross their arms. “ tell me what you know. i don't think i need to remind you what happens if you lie. ”