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A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

A Departure, or Two | Current Timeline: May 15th ​

Tags: Maeteris Maeteris Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees KodakWolf KodakWolf Thropian Thropian

The jousting drew the attention of most of the group. Even Devlin, though he stayed inside, watching through the living room windows. He watched the others enjoying themselves, though sometimes it was disrupted by the visions of other versions, other time loops still all meshed together in his point of view. So, it took Devlin a little bit longer than it might normally, to see Allison standing nearby waiting to get his attention.

It was there they conversed for several minutes, even Tilly came in, putting away some of the left overs as the eating part of the night was done. Tilly watched, drying her hands on a small towel while she stood in the doorway of the kitchen. She watched as Allison had disappeared up the stairs, only to return ten minutes later with her bags. By then a car had pulled up outside and in moments, she was gone.

Tilly moved to stand next to Devlin while the lights of the car turned and disappeared from sight. She spoke quietly, "Wot was it in times a'fore?"

Devlin seemed a little worried, "She stayed before. This is the one iteration where she has not." Tilly gave Devlin's shoulder a little pat before turning to head back outside and finish putting the food away, and cleaning up, leaving Devlin mulling over things in a large recliner of the living room.

It was shortly after Bug's turn at the jousting when he came inside. He hadn't done so well, dropped the lance and everything, but totally meant to do that, sure. Instead he acted like he was waving a cowboy hat in the air, yelling 'Yee-haw' for all he was worth. The grins and smiles on everyone's faces felt great, and he wanted to share it with Ally-san. "Where's Obi-Won-Ally-San? I saw her come this way earlier."

Devlin couldn't quite hide the wince. "Her coven called her back, she had to return home, Bug. She said she'll be in touch though." Even Tilly, the ever observant Tilly, watched with a small grimace from the kitchen as Bug was told the news.

Bug's excitement about the evening washed away as surely as someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. He couldn't even hide it for a moment, as his gaze shifted to the closed front door, and how dark and empty it was outside the window next to it. "O.. Oh."

His right hand pressed against his chest, fingers splayed, fingers patting gently. It took a good half a minute before he was able to paste a smile on his face, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Okay. I'm sure she'll call tomorrow before we leave. I'll go let the others know. Thanks!"

Bug gave Devlin and Tilly that smile and a little wave of his left hand, and headed back outside. Only, as soon as he was out of line of sight from the windows, he didn't go to where the others were. Instead, he turned and headed away from the barn, and the backyard. Away from the others, and the sounds of laughter and merriment.

Bug's hand never left his chest, or stopped patting as he found a small but pretty spot, not too far from the lake. There were flowers, and pretty trees, and the sky was so clear overhead. A sky now filled with the moon as the night claimed the space not very long ago. The red light covered the ground, and gave the flowers a strange but alluring red glow.

It was there he sat down on the ground, listening to the crickets in the area, chittering softly back at them. Well, until the tears clouded his vision. Once again, he was a failure. First, Luciana decided to not join them, and now, Ally-san. The one who said she'd be his mentor, which was as close to family as he had for a very, very long time. And now, she was gone without even talking to him first.

Something was just wrong with him. Something was broken inside, more than just his heart, but it hurt so much. So very much. Eyes lifted to the moon, the bleeding, blood red moon. He was tired of being broken, hurting. Tired of being alone.

A small patch of fireflies twinkled in and out of his vision, just as a half-sob escaped. Bug knew what he needed to do then. He tilted his head back, and with one slow, silent exhale of a breath he had been holding in, he let go.

Bit by bit, the area became flooded with fireflies. Gentle, slow moving swarms of twinkling lights danced across the flowers and trees. What was a dark, red night, became filled with thousands of the small gentle creatures. Like a whirlwind of happy glowing lights, they drifted toward the soft whisper promising home, family, love. They drifted higher and higher toward the moon. And on the way there, Bug danced.



(Created with FlowScape on Steam)​





coded by natasha.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Practice Makes Perfect | Current Timeline: ??? ​

Tags: @AsherMasher
Location: Paradise, NV ???

When Clementine woke next, it felt like she had slept for a full night, and change. It was restful, a rest she hadn't felt for a while. As if using magic inside helped cleanse her being of worry and stress. There was a visible side effect to the world she inhabited, however. The edges were slightly blurred, the parts in the corner of one's periphery, like a photo lens filter. It was only a small degree, but there all the same.

Even better, there wasn't an appearance of the creature from nightmares past. Only school, and her grandparents, her world returned to normal as such as it was. Soon as the sun set, and dinner was over, there would be this undeniable tug to sleep. Ah, to sleep, perchance to dream, or maybe visit a certain wooded glade with a waterfall.

Lew was there, playing with a couple of rabbits while waiting for Clementine to arrive. "Welcome back, ready to get your magic on track?" One last pat to the hare's head, and Lew stood while beckoning Clementine over. "Tonight you'll play with something new. Something to keep you safe, defensive like ... kung-fu!" Lew struck a playful kung-fu pose before laughing, the sound like the tinkling of small bells.

She led Clementine to a small clearing, only there weren't any bullseye targets today. "No attacking practice today, you'll use your magic in another way." To demonstrate, Lew held out one hand, palm toward Clementine. A moment later, a small sphere of golden lights formed, like a small shield. "Sometimes attacking isn't the answer, defending is better."

With her nod, a small mini storm of sparkling lights, small faeries, whirled around and a pebble was tossed at Lew. She quickly blocked and deflected it by moving the positioning of her hand, and thus, the shield. Another storm to her other side, another pebble. Lew repeated the steps, making a small golden light shield with her left hand, once more keeping her safe from the pebble.

"Start small you will, and soon it'll be second nature, your skill." Both storms giggled and unleashed a small hail of pebbles at Lew. She sank into a bit of a crouch, both hands coming together in front. The shield grew in size, as wide and tall as Lew herself. All the pebbles bounced off the larger shield, and the demonstration was over.

Lew stood and moved to grasp Clementine's hands, determined to give her a boost in confidence. "You can do this, you can. I'm your biggest fan." Lew grinned wide and gave a small squeeze. "Just in yourself you need to believe, and see what you can achieve!"

She then let go and moved to settle on a tree stump out of the way, but close enough to see and help if need. "Start with making the shield, use the whole field." Then she'd help Clementine work on moving the shield, making it larger, capable of protecting more than just herself.

coded by natasha.
 


Roje was planning on being a good little vampire on the 'enjoyable' plane ride. But that's when Soda Boy decided to pipe up, her hazel eyes narrowing as he drew close, his face inches from hers "You know, Soda, I was planning on being a good girl during this whole trip." she stood up, her face even closer to his own. "If you need to show me, then please, try me. Just because you tore out my neck earlier doesnt mean jack shit. I'm still here and I'm not going anywhere." a challenge she wasnt backing down from, on top of it, her anger was beginning to rise once again.

Key made sure everyone else remained in their seats, and was observing the confrontation. Banks looked like he might have tried to intervene but Key shook his head.

He could have laughed. A 'good girl?' What the hell was her definition of a good girl? She had been nothing but a loud irritant ever since he met her. He narrowed his eyes, fists clenching at his sides. There was a palpable force sweeping through him, a heady anger like a high tide frothing on the shoreline. If she wanted a battle, he would bring war.

"Go ahead," he snarled. "Your move."

"Oh? Ladies first? How gentlemanly. Didnt think little Soda Babe could be so kind." with what said, she suddenly headbutted him with more force than a human. Clearly she wasn't bothered by this action as she shoved him back "I'm tired of you acting like you're some hot shit when all you do is take a beating till boss here decides to say Sick 'em. At least I dont need someone to boss me around and tell me when to attack."

He skidded back with the impact of her strike, though the rage flashing in his head was too all-consuming for him to notice much of the ensuing pain or dizziness. Teeth curled back in hatred, he snapped, "You hear Key saying shit now? No, this is all me. It's about fucking time someone knocked you down a few pegs." With that, he charged and slammed her into the nearest wall, his teeth grinding together as he felt the sting of blood trickling down his face. His horns must be growing in again.

"Call me that again," he spat, referring to the stupid, stupid nickname she refused to drop already. "Go on, say it."

His hand coiled around her throat and squeezed.

"Say it!"

Roje slammed into the wall, her own jaw clenching as he began to hold her by the throat, squeezing while her eyes looked up at him. She knew what she was walking to when all his skills were driven by anger and irritation. If only she saw him with a leveled head. That would make this fight more enjoyable. While one hand held onto his wrist, her other hand went on ahead and slammed her palm right into his elbow, definitely snapping the arm that an arm should not bend in. Due to this, it allowed him to release her neck and she instead kicked him back in the gut with her foot "You sound just like me when I was driven by anger. Always wanting to fucking attack every little thing. It's a phase." man, she just recovered and she has to deal with a angry demon "Instead of taking the easy way out and snapping someone's neck in a battle, fight it all the way through. Blood and all."

Morgan at this point is doing his damnedest to crawl out of the row of seats he was in with Roje and make it to the front, far, far away.

The pain that shot through his arm was blinding, searing; as he was thrust back and landed against the parallel wall, stars were spinning in his vision, and memories danced with them.

The pain of snapped bone—it welcomed him like an old friend.

"Easy way out," he breathed to himself, a whisper barely given noise. He knew all about that, didn't he?

(The natural order of things was to descend; so he had thought when he stood on the roof of an Icarus of a building in a Troy of a city during that inscrutable stretch of time just after he had indelibly marked his hands with Adrien and Malik's blood, scrubbing be damned.

He didn't remember walking away because he hadn't. He had stepped right off the ledge into whatever oblivion waited below.

But it wasn't oblivion. The blood from his last meal had still been thick around his mouth, and in the hours of agony that followed as shattered bones knitted themselves back together, he had learned just how much he could destroy himself as long as he had a fresh soul to repair the damage.

What he had thought, at the time, was that even Hell didn't want him.)

"Easy way out," he said again, and then he breathed: "There is no easy way."

The pain was blinding, searing, sweet. That was it—the only companion who never turned its back on him. When Mom was gone, pain stayed behind, and it had never left him.

And so he welcomed it back like the old friend it was, grabbing his limp, dangling elbow and squeezing it until the combined symphony of cracking bone and shockwaves of pain set his whole body to feverish trembling.

In the sick, dazed high that coursed through his veins, he had almost forgotten that Roje was even there.

"I want it to hurt," he slurred.

Roje narrowed her eyes, letting her charge get the hell out of the row as she watched Coda snap his arm back. Looking as if it didnt even bother him. This guy is fucking insane "You want it to hurt?"

Who—?

Coda looked up, and the blurry image in front of him twisted into a familiar form.

Mom...?

Roje—right. He was fighting Roje. His head was cleaved in two; one foot stood in the present, the other in a past that buried him in a fog of indecipherable whispers.

A flash of renewed anger raced through him again, and he spat at the hateful figure that was a liar, "I hate you."

The words sent a shudder through him, a sense of power at finally admitting it. "I hate you," he spat again, louder, and he stepped forward, his feet trudging slowly as if through water.

(He pounded on the door again and again and again.)

"You hear me?!" He was delirious, railing against a ghost that hid like a coward in Roje's form. "I don't care what you think of me! I don't need you or the bullshit you try to feed me!"

(Why wouldn't she open the door? Why? For months, she had kept him locked inside, her thinly-veiled disgust and shame masquerading as an attempt to protect him from an outside world that wouldn't understand.

This, being locked out, was something new altogether.)

"Like it or not, I'm here."

(When panic gave him new strength, a fist meant to knock on the door instead knocked it down, and he clambered feverishly over the splintered wood into their tiny, mildew-stinking bathroom—

He found her. Mom was lying in the tub, dressed when she shouldn't be, her hair fanned out in water a deep color it shouldn't be.

Taking the easy way out was in his DNA.)

"So I'm gonna fuck up the world," he said, "just as much as you fucked me up," and he threw himself at the figure that had ceased to be Roje with all of his weight.

Roje didnt know what the fuck was happening. But clearly he was having some kind of mental breakdown and she didnt want to be a part of it. His last words had her really thrown off. Fucked him up? Well, he was going to feel that shortly! This was a small space for her to work with, but she had to deal with it regardless. As he charged back to get to her, she prepared for it and was knocked down, a grunt escaping her lips as she looked up at Coda. “I’m gonna show you how fucked up you’re really gonna be.” She got through her lips and slammed her forehead into his once again. At this point not caring if she was cracking his skull.

Another shock of blinding, deliriously affirming pain—it cocooned him; it was the cradle that had raised him, his home. And it was clarifying. When his vision settled amidst the spinning current of skull-splitting pain, he saw what the specter of his mother had been hiding from him. A vampire called Roje. Those same hazel eyes that had teased him, taunted him, sent shivers through his body. The warmth of her touch. The infuriating pull of her magnetic grin. The feeling that had begun to well up in him—it was something ugly, a butchery, a blurring of desire and damnation.

In that dream, Roje had been combing her fingers softly through his hair.

Baby, you know you're an abomination.

He stared at her through eyes filling with blood; it streaked down his nose from the impact of Roje's headbutt, down his forehead from the gaping wounds left by his horns.

Oh, how he hated and envied the men who must have held her in their arms. To be one of them, if only to be one of them—

Futile, as out of reach as the water at Tantalus's lips. He had been born a monster, not a man.

"You, too," he hissed, and the specters had scattered; he was speaking only to Roje, now. "You would never love me, either."

He reared his head back before smashing it into her, just as she had done to him, only—

He aimed lower, and his forehead was crowned with horns that sank hungrily into flesh as they speared her straight through the heart.

The only way he would ever touch it.

roje and coda.


 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

A Dream Explored (via Discord) | Current Timeline: May 15th ​

Tags: Thropian Thropian

After the main festivities, and about the time the moon wanted to come up and ruin things with its heavy blood red taint and feelings, Levi and Shia had other things to attend to. Namely, exploring the cavern with Edwin.

"So, something about the waterfall?" Shia was still digesting the dream Edwin said he had. Levi was a little confused on why he was part of it, but hey, he wasn't questioning why it felt right to call the man 'Pops'. No sense in delving too deep into 'why' at this point of the night.

"Yes, the bear spirit guided me to it, then came from it." Edwin said as they walked. "Aswell did Levi's cat and Chase's wolf come from the falls. The bear spoke of truth and freedom, though what exactly it meant I am unclear. Allison gave some interesting insight, but this seems the most clear next step."

Shia was making notes in his handy dandy notebook, it helped fore more than just understanding in the moment. He could compare it with what Devlin saw in previous iterations and maybe figure out what was the cause or causes of their previous failures.

Levi was still confused. "My cat form? Like.. I was in cat form?"

"No, no." Edwin shook his head. "Your cat spirit came from the falls, then walked to you and the two of you became one. Chase was at my other side, and the wolf spirit walked to him." He thought for a moment. "The bear told me to find their freedom, though I don't know if it meant you or the spirits, or perhaps both."

Levi's expression was a classic 'whatchu talking about'. "Cat spirit? I just have a cat form. I can change to human or cat, I don't know what you mean by a cat spirit?" He wasn't opposed to hearing what Edwin was saying, but he just couldn't comprehend the concept. "You mean like a druid can see animal spirits? But .. Sorry. I don't understand what you're explaining. I've never seen a cat spirit."

"You've never? But on the bus." Edwin thought for a moment. "Or was that in the dream? Are you not a druid? In the dream, you spoke of the power of your connection to the cat spirit. You were going to teach me, and I was going to teach you rune carving."

Edwin was a little disappointed at this revelation. "I guess you are just a werewolf, er, were-cat in this time line. Such a strange new world I have stepped into. But yes, it is the cat you turn into, but it is a separate and aware creature. You may not know it, but I am sure it guides you, just as the bear guides me, and the wolves guide Chase and Maylee."

Levi scratched his head before finger combing through his hair. "I mean.. I have a connection to the cat form? I.. did I? I remember the carving. And.. Huh." He looked like he was trying to recall something."How can you tell? I mean.. it's just always felt like.. me?"

Shia was listening, letting them talk since he was a different creature all together, but it was fascinating. And of course, he was taking notes.

"Well, for starters, I have seen the cat spirit." Edwin stated, matter-of-factly. "Plus, I have seen the way you act in the last few days. Some moments you are a human boy, doing as human boys do, and others you are a cat in human form. Even in your cat form, you have this balance. This is the two souls within you, both urging their will into your body."

Edwin thought for a moment. "Shia, do you have such moments? I know you say you were born of an egg as a wyvern, is it wyvern nature to turn into a man, or are you a were-wyvern?"

Shia gave Edwin a bit of a head tilt and a smile. "I believe I'm just a wyvern who uses magic to assume the shape of a human to blend in. At least, that's the way Devlin taught me. Maybe it's more dragon like than wyverns, but I can see the necessity of blending in."

Levi appeared to be seriously digesting Edwin's explanation. And it was around then they reached the waterfall. Light was provided by torches along the way, which Shia lit up with a bit of magic. The clear water bubbled and flowed over the rocks from a level higher than they currently stood.

Edwin looked up at the waterfall, amazed slightly at it's beauty within these caves. "So, there are actual caves behind this thing. Have you explored them much before?" he asked, while his eyes scanned about, looking for the places the spirits stepped from in his dreams.

"I think the bear came from the top, or was that the other two. Perhaps the bear came from the middle, as it stepped through the water rather than over it."

Edwin then placed his hands to his chest, closed his eyes, and whispered to himself. "Okay, buddy. Whatever you wanted me to see, I'm gonna try and find it."

Edwin barely had finished the words when the cavern went dark. Dark enough he couldn't see Shia or Levi by his side. Couldn't hear them. Only the sound of the waterfall was heard, roaring, and roaring, and it was more than the waterfall.

From the middle, there was a glimpse of a bear head, roaring as if in anger, or warning. And then Devlin's cavern just sort of melted away. In its place was a different cavern, rock between black and red. The walls were smooth, but not flat, like someone had created it to just give them enough room and not cut anyone with jagged outcroppings.

There were constant beeps on either side, but when Edwin tried to turn and look, he couldn't. The most he could see was the upper half of one wall, and part of the ceiling. There was the sense of others with him, to his left and right.

"Hello?" Edwin called out meekly, the sudden darkness frightening him, he barely heard his own voice over the roars. "Please, I, I'm trying. I just don't know what this means."

The sudden shift in caves, the sudden stiffness in his body, it brought out a deep fear he had not experienced before. But the dream welled up, the ending he'd tried to bury and forget. "Not yet." That voice had said.

"When?" It was all Edwin could think to ask.

His voice was more in his own mind than a verbal sound given breath. It felt like there was a mask over his face, keeping his voice silenced in favor of whatever air it forced him to breathe in.

There was a brief moment, where Edwin could turn his head, he could turn it to the left or right, but somehow he knew, he'd only be able to look one way, and not the other.

To the left he saw a figure on a bed, identical to the one he could feel underneath him. Clinical in nature, almost a medical bed, there was an IV drip, with one end disappearing underneath a white blanket. The form was smaller, with an oxygen like mask over their face. It was hard to tell who it was, but he could see blonde hair laying limply on the white hospital like pillow.

"You're not strong enough, yet. None of you are, but soon. Something wicked this way comes."

And then, as if a film played in reverse, the words repeated backward as the scene zoomed at a slightly faster speed. Reversed from Edwin's head turning to the left, staring up at the ceiling, and the cavern itself disappearing into darkness until..

"Pops? You okay? You kind of zoned out there. Do you need to sit down?" Levi was gently shaking his arm. Edwin was staring into the waters of the waterfall, Devlin's cavern back in focus, and maybe, just maybe, the smallest hint of his bear spirit receded into the waterfall.

Edwin dropped to his knees as the world rushed back in. He took deep gulping breaths, it felt as though he hadn't been breathing.

"You are not strong enough, none of us are. But soon, something wicked." He repeated the words. Then he continued, "Beds, medical. IV drips, oxygen masks, blonde hair. Probably Levi."

He sat up straighter on his legs to stare at the waterfall. "Something. Something has us, another place. Another time. I think we might be dying. We're prisoners."

He took a final deep breath. "Sorry. Vision caught me by surprise."

Shia tilted his head, concern on his face that matched Levi's as the younger man moved to try and make sure Edwin was steady. Shia was the one who spoke. "What did you say? Something wicked?" He was quickly flipping through his notebook.

"Something wicked this way comes?" He found the page in his book and skimmed it quickly. "Maylee heard that in one of her visions. It was during the day." He quickly flipped back and noted everything else Edwin said. "One more time, please. I need to note it all down."

Edwin repeated the description, as verbatim as he could. His subconscious chewing on the vision, hoping to gleam some meaning. Nothing was clear, but like Shia, Edwin knew this was an important piece of the puzzle. He did his best to cement the memory.

"I don't think we need to go back there. Not yet anyway. Maybe in another loop, maybe after we find whatever in Ecuador. But, 'not yet'. That's what was said in my dream last night. 'Not yet'."

Levi was frowning, both at the revelation of a cat spirit, and Edwin's strange trace like dream thingy. Mostly at concern for Pops. "Maybe we should get some sleep then. Come on, Pops, you can put a hand on my head and use me for support." He gave a cheeky grin and a chuffing sound.

Shia agreed after finishing his notes, and moved to see if Edwin needed assistance as the vision seemed to take a bit of a toll on the shifter. "I'll see if anything also rings a bell with Devlin, maybe see if there are any clues from the other time loop versions. Do you need assistance back to your room? Or some more food or drink sent to your room?"

"I can walk, but thanks." Edwin said as he stood, ruffling Levi's hair as he did. "If it's all the same though, I think I'd rather sleep down here, away from the bleeding night."

As they walked back, Edwin sheepishly spoke, "Though, if there are some leftovers I wouldn't complain."

Shia patted Edwin's shoulder, "I'll see what I can do." Once they reached the sitting area of the cavern, Shia headed up through the study to the kitchen.

Levi had to finger comb his hair to be just right, but he chuffed on the way back. "Yeah, it's quieter down here. I need to make sure I'm all packed, but I can do that when the sun's back up." He picked one of the couches and flopped down across it, limbs splayed every which way.

coded by natasha.
 

Roje.pngcoda.png
Tags: Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Out Of Words Out Of Words Rhyme Rhyme | Location: Plane - Landed

What the fuck is he talking about? she thought to herself, noting the blood that was coming down his face and no undoubtedly landing either on her skin or her clothes. Preparing for the next headbutt he seemed to have been going for, Though was only met with a horn that slammed through her chest and into her heart, eyes widening as her breath hitched. This mother fucker actually went for her heart!

She gasped, her body moving slightly, breath hitched as her mind was trying to process “you.. fucker...” she got out, her hands shakily lifting to move his horn from her chest. The sound of her own heart starting to slow, and even then, she knew she was gonna die. Nine years of a vampire and gone through torture. Losing person after person. Getting herself into useless fights. Man maybe it was time she finally went to rest. After she heard his words from earlier, she let out a slight huff with a wince if pain “I never... hated you either... Coda...” she said, resting her head back against the floor.

Man, death felt like a bitch. But this was one of the ways she could have been killed. Of course it had to be the slow and agonizing route “hell... how can I... even hate... you now?” She asked, closing her eyes tightly as she began to feel her body turning cold. Weaker even. Though for some reason, it seemed like she was trying to fight.
Maybe because she had promises to fulfill... like whenever Maylee needed her, and to protect Morgan (and now foster). I knew one day my cockiness would get me killed. It was just a matter of time


Key made a scowling face, but didn't say anything more than, "Well, fuck." Morgan was back to cowering in a corner of the plane, which thankfully was taxing to a stop. Foster had relocated to the front row as well, and Banks was just trying to keep Winnie protected. Any time the fight looked like it might come their way, he would make sure she was covered and not in harm's reach.

Two of the guards who joined them on the trip started forward when Key beckoned them. He was going to have someone else take care of the body this time around, and make Coda in charge of Indy and Mor.. Foster. Morgan was too likely to Fae poof again if saddled with Coda.


And then it was done. He was staring into a pair of eyes as still and unseeing as that cat, the very first—

I didn't mean to. He had no idea what it meant to die, then; the voices that were his constant company had taunted him with it, but it was nothing more than a concept. The cat gave it flesh.

Adrien and Malik, then—

I meant to do it. It was the only way he could continue to exist thereafter, to convince himself it had all been conscious, deliberate. He had made a choice. He was in control. He was not a slave to his demons.

And now—

There had been many others in the interim, some wicked, others blameless. After a while, their faces bled together, their names slurring into wordless noise. None of them had pierced the rough, barbed skin he had clothed himself in; none until now.

Her words still rang in his ears. I never hated you either, Coda.

How could she say such a thing? After everything he had done...?

How can I even hate you now?

She had gone limp in his arms, and he stared dazedly into her glassy hazel eyes, so full of mischievous charm when he met her,

No. Hate me. Hate me because that's all I deserve.

God, how he wished she had said she hated him. How he wished she had cursed him, spat on him, scorned him as the abomination he always was and always would be.

He had been born a world removed from beauty, and so he had been born to destroy it.

Numbly and all at once, he became aware of a pair of figures encroaching on him, faceless shadows in his vision that greedily spread their claws out toward the woman clutched in his arms, Roje, his Roje—

"Don't TOUCH HER," he snapped, and, with one arm cradling Roje, he lashed out the other in a wide arc, one of the guards barely letting out a gurgling cry before his throat was slashed open, blood christening his crisp, clean uniform.

Coda's heart was pounding in his ears. More. More. If destroying was all he could do, he was going to do it with everything he had. He reached out, hooked his teeth into the other guard's neck, twisted and pulled until the flesh tore away and suffused his mouth with the salty, gratifying quench of blood, and—

Something else tore away, too. He couldn't see it, but he could feel that it was there, something warm and thrumming gently in his mouth. It was intangible, like the warmth of a smile rather than the warmth of a fire, but it was real, and whatever it was, it was his now.

His to do with as he pleased.

Instinct guided his movements, then; holding Roje's cold body behind the neck, he tilted her chin up and draped over her like a shroud over a coffin, and his lips latched hungrily onto hers as he passed that warm, beating, living thing from his mouth to hers and then jerked back to watch with eyes half-crazed in desperation.

When he began to feel the warmth return to her body, the breath stirring in her chest, he let out the breath that he only now realized he had been holding in his own. Shaking violently, he gripped her close, cradling her in his murderous arms like some kind of fucked up Pieta.

Key could feel something in the air, he likely could have stopped it, should have stopped it, but his gut said wait. So he sat, stoic, silent, and watched everything. The scent of sulfur filled his nostrils, though he couldn't determine the source. Hairs on his arms and back of his neck stood on end, the air teaming with a dark, electric current.

He wasn't interrupting this for the world.

After her body had gone cold, and the life from her eyes faded, she was met with darkness. It was cold, lifeless even. So this is what the afterlife looked like. Before she knew it, a scene painted itself around her. White fog, creepy woods, even wondering souls around "...Thought this would be worse..but this could just be the world before I'm probably thrown into hell..." beginning to walk through the creepy fog, Roje ran into a few souls along the way. No one that she knew though... The more she walked, the more she ran into souls, some running off, some staring at her. Probably she was the new kid on the block now. This is why people dread coming here. There's nothing...but...are these people just wondering? when she asked a random soul, they began to explain to her this is where people hang if they haven't let go of something from the world of the living. They had not yet moved on.

Hearing this only made Roje feel a small pang in her heart, because she knew exactly what she had been holding onto... Those who were in the plain being in cuffs, her Pup... How could she allow herself to let go? Move on and forget the world of the living? An inner struggle she wouldn't be able to figure out for a long while...Only because her soul began to feel a forceful tug at her feet, knocking her down and making her hit her head on the ground "Ow! What the fuck!?" she shouted, turning her body and seeing a dark portal with shadow arms coming out while holding onto her ankles before suddenly dragging her at a quick speed toward the portal. No one helped her, or even bothered as she was sucked right in. Disappearing from the world of the dead as a whole.

Roje's breath had returned, her sense of smell coming to as well, smelling that damn sulfur blood that was so unappetizing. Her eyes fluttered open, only to feel and see Coda holding her close. The sound of his rapid heart beat filling her ears while his breathing was rough as if he had ran a marathon. As her mind was trying to process what the hell happened, she was 100% sure she was supposed to be dead right now. She remembered the horn that went right through into her heart. Lifting her hand, she went to feel for the hole, but was only met with her solid skin. Wound healed and the only thing left was the hole in her clothes. As weird as it was being forced back to life (again), this time it was entirely different compared to the last. Something was off-putting and it made her uncomfortable. There was an emotion that was forced onto her that she didn't appreciate. It was a feeling that didn't make sense for her to be feeling. Just because of this, she grew annoyed and definitely didn't care what flew out of her mouth.

“Damn, I can't even die in peace, can I?” she asked, clear annoyance in her voice. Though she found her hand grasping onto Coda’s shirt, though her expression was telling a different story. Hazel eyes landed on Key who had been staring at them like a kid seeing the Bat Mobile for once with those damn shades “ “Well Fuck”, huh? That’s all you could say after seeing a horn driven through my fucking heart?” her hand had tightened on Coda’s shirt, though her look never diverted from Key “I bet you, you brought me back from the dead. Couldn't let me go and die in peace, away from the bullshit you’ve been putting everyone through, right?” venom dripped off her words, finding this completely and utterly ridiculous. Her jaw began to clench, but then her own body began to tremble, similar to Codas. Making her grow even more agitated “What. The. FUCK!?” she shouted “Why the hell am I shaking!?”

Something wasn't right. Her soul wasn't put back right in her body. I'm about to get up and slap the fuck out of Key. I'm sick of him just standing there, staring and watching everything like a damn movie she thought to herself. Roje being the now shorter-tempered vampire she was, she pulled herself forcibly from Coda and had gotten to her feet, grabbing Key's shirt with a shaky fist "You're a real sick fuck, you know that?" the closer she was to him, there was no doubt he was feeling that same electric current radiating off of her like some sort of core. "All you do is watch. Observe. Threaten. Is there something about you, that isnt a pain in the fucking ass?" her emotions were rampant, but she was definitely trying to hold restraint, especially with emotions that were forced onto her.

Key stood up while Roje held onto his shirt. He'd try one thing before handling it himself. "Coda."

No. No. It didn't make sense. Why was she going to him? Coda stared numbly as Roje pushed him aside, turned her back on him (always, always, always someone's back), went to Key and held onto him. Never. He would never be enough, never enough for her to look at him; it would always be Key.

Hatred sizzled in his veins, and pain snaked through his jaw as his teeth clenched violently together. Their mouths were moving, but no words reached his ears; it didn't matter what they were saying, anyway. They were talking to each other, not to him.

Look at me, he wanted to scream, but his jaw had wrenched shut, and he could not will it open. The ends of his hair trembled as blood pounded furiously in his ears. Enough. Enough, already. She was going to look at him whether she liked it or not.

Coda lurched forward and seized Roje by the arm; then, violently yanking her away from Key, he pulled her close to his chest and squeezed, the broken bones in his arm snapping further as he gripped her with vicious desire.

Black fire burned in his eyes as they met Key's. "Mine," he hissed savagely.

There was the smallest of a white glow behind the sunglasses, and his voice fairly dripped with ice. "Then keep her away from me." Key waited for some type of response, even just a nod of the head.

In response, Coda's arms tightened around Roje, and he took a step away from Key, pulling her with him; he only said, once again: "Mine."

Key started ordering the others about, stepping over the bodies of the guards in the aisle. "Alright. Everyone get to the front of the plane, we have some arranging to do before we can get off this thing."

Key determinedly ignored Coda and Roje for the moment, but they were swirling in the back of his mind like some gleeful treat to digest later.

Roje was about to say something before Coda yanked her from Key. Her shaky hand releasing his shirt and being met with The half demons chest. More and more emotions were starting to swirl in her mind, anger rising, a possessive feeling lurking behind the curtain of her mind. Coda had claimed her as... his? ”Mine”? The fuck? I’m no ones! she thought, taking a look at Key and seeing... something. She didn’t have enough time to focus on what his eyes were doing.

The broken arm, Coda never seemed to realize was making it worse as he squeezed her frame even more and continued to be possessive over her. His grip was tight but she knew she could push him away. Though, she noticed Key doing Key things. Ignoring the two of them while trying to fix everything else. This mother fucker.

Rojes eyes lifted up to Coda as her hands pressed on his chest to push him away, but felt his heart pounding harder than before, the blood in his veins rushing throughout his body. Eyes suddenly glossing over in gold as her arms went weak and was almost like a rag doll in his arms.

Before she knew it, she was the one looking down at herself... but... how? Did Coda squeeze her to death and was having an out of body experience? Before more questions could be asked, her eyes shifted back and it was as if she was in her own body again. What the fuck did they do to me.​
 
Maddox Ward (Leif Hjalkarssen)
Location: BBQ
Tags: Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees
​


Leif'd grinned once he'd laid eyes on a still on horseback Maylee. She hadn't even wiped out, and both riders falling off wasn't even that uncommon.

He laughed at her comment about the Dark Ages and shook his head. Surprisingly, what most people liked to bring up about the old days was the bad, the weird and the awkward. She'd never asked him how old he was, but he did hope she didn't take him for one of those old men that married 14 year olds. His wife had been 22, thankyouverymuch.

Friendly sword fighting was almost like a dance, and his muscles relished at the chance to practice again after a long time. Thankfully,it was the kind of thing you didn't really forget, like riding a bicycle, and a short amount of practice was enough to bring muscle memory back.

He was surprised to find out Maylee did know her way with swords, a lot better than with horses in fact. He hadn't run into many hunters that wielded swords in recent times, but guess some extra skill does more good than harm, anyway. He'd have to ask her how she came to learn it later.

He'd started the combat defensively, in order to get a feel of her abilities first, and slowly built up pressure on her to squeeze out the best her skill could offer.

At some point, though, something felt off. Something with her, as he did shoot the surroundings a quick glance and everything seemed as normal as could be, bloody moon and all. Her strikes became more aggressive, in an unproportional way. Sure, he could heal, but her eyes hinted she wasn't actually there. Like a trance, an illusion. A berserker.

He was forced to intensify his strikes to the point of disarming her. Or maybe she'd dropped her sword herself, really. He couldn't tell, as for a split second his mind was invaded by a wave of almost unfamiliar fury. Just blind aggressiveness, stripped of any reason, the urge to attack and rip and tear everything in front of him. Though it wasnt totally unfamiliar, it was in this context, as in it'd never be directed towards her, or so he hoped. He'd never lost it to that point, not that he knew. It lasted a split second only, as his mind was brought back the moment he felt what must've been claws slicing through the skin on his face.

Suddenly, Maylee seemed about to collapse, and he quickly reached forward to prevent from doing so, dropping his own sword in the process.

He gripped he shoulder and called out her name, ignoring the burning cuts on his face and the warm blood running down. She seemed to slowly come back, though there wasn't much he could do to prevent what she did next.

He tried to calm her down, to tell her she didn't need to be sorry, to ask her what'd just happened, but she didn't seem to be listening. And to be honest, he was currently not that able to utter that many words, still trying to get his own mind straight after what'd happened.

As she turned on her heels and rushed out, he went after her - though only for a few feet. The sight of her sprinting towards the house, running away, suddenly awoke that fury again, if only for a split second. That predatory instinct that wanted to make him chase after runaway prey, slaughter them till they couldn't run away anymore. Before it became overwhelming, he stopped, taking deep breaths in and out. That was definitely not the time to be alone in a room with her. They'd have to talk later, and she'd have to hang on by herself one more time, like she'd been doing for so long now.

It wasn't easy, and took him several minutes, but he eventually turned around towards the jousting group, picking up both swords off the ground as he headed over. Somehow, Bug seemed anxious to have a go.
 
Indy had resigned herself to curling up in her seat against the window, eyes tracking the clouds as they swelled and rolled beneath the plane. She could sense Coda beside her, trapped in some nightmare of his own, but her mind was occupied by visions of her dream circling and consuming every thought. How long until her mother realized she wasn't just ignoring her calls? How long until she came, God forbid, looking for her?

You're really deep in the shit now, Sanderson. Well-fucking-done. She always supposed it would be some jackass with a quick draw who finally got her, a shot to the back then curtains. Not some spiky-haired freak and his motley crew...

No.

The clouds converged, the warm features of her mother's face rising from the grey swirls as her blank gaze stared into Indy's eyes.

No. This would not be the end. She had not spent her whole life fighting, her whole life clawing up from the bottom--fighting for a fraction of normalcy--just to be catnapped and offed. Her mother had sacrificed too much.

Roje was shouting, something about knowing Foster. Indy jerked back from the window, brows drawn as Roje huffed. So she knew Foster, but that information seemed to be a shock to her. It was information, but useless in the current context considering her companion was in a constant state of shock and had recently been cowed by Key.

File it away with the rest. Note every detail and maybe feel useful at some point, she supposed. She leaned back, turning her gaze back out the window and resting her cheek against the cool glass. But then, to her shock, Coda actually jumped from his seat, his voice rising as he prowled toward Roje. Their faces were barely a few inches apart as a familiar tension filled the plane.

Damn. And she had been enjoying a break from the suffocating sexual tension. She glanced at Key, but he seemed to be viewing the interaction with detached curiosity, so Indy did the same. She crawled over to Coda's seat, leaning over the back and resting her head in her hands as she waited for them to either maul each other or makeout.

But it was so much worse.

Indy had seen people die a few times, not counting the previous few days. She was used to hearing the death-rattle, the grim spasming--that shit the TV shows always leave out. But, dear God, she had never witnessed the brutality that played out like a grim symphony in front of her as Coda absolutely unleashed on Roje. Somewhere among the chaos, she spotted the kid crawling from the seats away from the violence. Banks had wrapped Winnie up, guarding her against the madness as the sounds of shattering bones and flesh ripping filled the pain.

Yet Key stayed still. Ever the calm witness. Rage surged through Indy's chest as she stared into the cold eyes of the sociopathic bastard. Shock collar or not, she wanted to rip his smug head off his fucking neck and dance on his dead body. She shifted in the seat; it would be so easy, the key three guards distracted--maybe she would die in the process, but goddamn would she not be dying alone--

Then the sound.

That haunting sound of death knocking on a nearby door.

The tinny scent of blood filled Indy's nose and clouded her brain. She turned back to the fight just in time to see the death blow, Coda's horns driving deep into Roje's chest. Roje looked shock, her hands trembling as she struggled to push him away. Indy jumped up in the seat, but her feet were frozen as her hand cupped over her mouth. "Oh shit, shit." The words tumbled from her mouth. Had Key expected this? Had he fucking known? This was different than this morning--Roje's expression, her face, it said it all. Not even some fucking vampire could come back from this shit and oh shit.

Key was scowling. Saying something, but Indy couldn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears. Roje hadn't deserved that. No one deserved that, and fuck--sure, she was a guard, but she had been kind that morning. She did not deserve death on some shitty plane.

Coda was curled over her body like a lion guarding its prey, growling and shouting at the incoming guards as he slowly lowered his face to hers and... kissed her?

The silence was beaten only by the drumming of Indy's heartbeat as she watched in growing horror.

He kissed sleeping death and she awoke.

Roje rose, and Indy's world shattered.

She had been dead. Not zombie dead, not pretend dead, but cold-stone dead and wrapped in the arms of her beloved bastard--her lifeblood still dripping down his horns as she spoke.

The plane disappeared.

Every seat turned into a curled figure, wrapped in white dresses. The lights morphed into a piercing sun, filling Indy's vision as a distant voice shouted confident praise.

And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.

Revival from the dead was impossible.

Indy was five years old, her hands full of a lump of feathers dusted with age. Her mother's hands were curled around her cheeks, sadness radiating from the softness of her gaze as she traced her fingers along the tracks of tears dropping down Indy's cheeks.

'But why not?' She hadn't understood. She didn't understand why the preachers would talk about revival, about miracles--but they wouldn't bring back the baby bird? Why had they laughed at her, patted her head when she had found it, dropped from the nest, broken? She had spent every day climbing the oak tree beside their house to watch as the baby birds grew after discovering the nest. She had marveled at their growing feathers, the desperate gaping of their beaks as they cried for their mother.

'Not all beings are meant for revival. Only God's will determines who may be brought back, and who must go.'

'But it didn't do anything wrong! Why does he want to kill a baby?!'

It's God's will, her mother had said. It's God's will, every handful of dirt Indy had piled on the poor dead bird as she crouched over its grave in the garden. It's God's will, to take and give as he pleased, leaving Indy to sit in the sun and rain as she waited in absent yearning for the baby to rise.

"It's not possible."

Like Mary cradling the body of her son, Coda was gripping Roje among a mosaic of blood and bodies.

"It's not possible." Indy's voice trembled as she gripped her arms tightly, her body rocked by fierce trembling, eyes distant. "But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death.”

The cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, those who practice magic arts.

Indy dropped to the floor. Warm paths of blood tracked down her arms as her fingers morphed, blunt fingernails replaced with the pointed curl of a cat's nails as they burrowed deep into her skin.

The horns on Coda's head seemed traced in an ethereal glow.

Her body convulsed with the force of her internal conflict as deeply-ingrained beliefs battled with self-determination. She rocked, hands reaching up to burrow in her hair.

Hell had swallowed her amid ignorance and now the devil had arrived from her past to greet her.
​
 


(OOC: This whole post is angsty nonsense and none of it is plot-important, feel free to skip)

She did not move for what felt like hours, her bones melding into the floor until she became unable to discern where one stopped and the other began. Distant, distant she grew from her body; sensation faded in her feet, her fingertips, her cheeks burning with the tears that always, always followed her where she went because stupid little girls cried and she had never stopped being a stupid little girl.

The only feeling that remained constant throughout was the sick stirring of the beer settling in her gut; gradually, she realized she had to urinate, and her eyes shifted to stare, glazed, at a pair of feet that seemed incapable of movement. Over and over again in her mind, she watched herself leave her own body, float like a languid ghost to the toilet appended to her room, but in reality she remained rooted down, as inert as a snake's molted dead skin. It was only the thought of wetting herself on Devlin's floor and the subsequent humiliation that spurred her to her feet.

Still, her limbs moved as if through molasses as she slunk into the little bathroom and flipped on the lights—and then a bone-deep shudder, a tremor of revulsion rocked her body as she met the eyes of the detestable little girl on the other side of the sheet of glass. The womanly curve of her body, the tension of muscles trembling beneath skin, the ashen pits of age carved beneath her eyes—none of that mattered. She was a child playing dress-up, a lamb who forced herself into a wolf's skin and then swiped with her facsimile claws at one of the only people in a big, empty world that would notice if she left it.

Stupid little girl.

She hated that girl.

Stupid little girl—

It was an impulse, an instinct; she was not thinking when she again extended her bitten nails into feral claws and raked them hatefully across the face, wanting to ruin it, wanting it to disappear.

The flash of pain that followed sent a genuine shock through her nerves, and as her vision cleared of the cloudy red anger, she watched three thin, red streams begin to trickle down the wide-eyed face in the mirror.

Dammit—shit—fuck—

Maylee hurried to the sink and began to run the faucet, her mind racing. What had she been thinking? She hadn't, of course. So stupid. Her face—if she wanted so badly to ravage her own skin, she should have picked anywhere but her face. There was no hiding it—the others' eyes would all be on her, making condemnatory judgments, seeking an explanation. Leif would seek an explanation to tack onto the one she already owed him but could not provide.

At the very least, she had to stop the blood. Maylee grabbed a hand towel from a small rack on the sink counter and began to scrub furiously at her face, aggravating the angry red cuts into hot, pulsing streaks. Somewhere between the running water and the clenched hiss of her breath and the tiny, gem-like red drops speckling the basin of the sink, an uneasy memory pulled at her brain.

Maylee? What's that on your face—?

(A wave of dread had cut through her at once as she discarded her gym shorts and pulled on a pair of jeans. Oh, no—she had covered it up with makeup that morning, but she hadn't accounted for sweat washing it away and baring the ugly truth. Why hadn't it occurred to her? Why was she always so—)

Oh, it's stupid, really. I was trying to get a glass from the cupboard, y'know, and it was up a little high, so I climbed up on the counter and—yep, you guessed it! Slipped off and bumped my face pretty hard. God, it's so embarrassing—

(It had been her fault, really. She knew how he had been, lately, even if she didn't understand why; she knew that it was best to leave him be during those mercurial intervals until the storm blew over. And even then, it had been his and Dad's argument. He hadn't been aiming for her—there was no way he would have swung if he knew she would be in the way—)

Slowly, resentfully, she raised her head to lock eyes with the narrowed, tired pair in the mirror. In the fog of dull pain and somnolent alcohol buzz and moon-sickness, she imagined another figure populating the mirror, coming up from behind to stand at her side.

He looked exactly as she last remembered him: the same disheveled dark hair, the same unwashed sweatshirt, the same blotches of blood (Dad and Papa's blood, their blood because she had let them die) sinking deep stains into his clothes and skin. The same eyes that looked at her as if she were a mouse wriggling in the jaws of a trap.

He moved closer to the girl in the mirror and grasped her roughly by the chin, tilting it back and wrapping his other hand loosely around the same throat he had indelibly left his mark on. He didn't even need to squeeze for her to feel the breath ripping away from her lungs.

"You know why I didn't kill you?" His words were hissed into the mirror girl's ear, and the fight in her eyes had gone, leaving them dull and stagnant. "You weren't worth it. It would have been like swatting a fly."

A thousand retorts screamed in her head—accusations, challenges, denials—but her slack jaw would not move.

Stupid little girl.

"You don't belong here. You know it, and they know it." The thumb he was tracing across her throat pressed down harder. "Go home. Or whatever it is you pretend is home these days."

Yes. He was right. She didn't deserve to be here. She would go back to that dusty, lonely apartment. First thing in the morning, she would tell Devlin—before the others had awoken. She would dodge them like the coward she was.

As if reading her thoughts, the specter of her brother dropped the mirror-girl's chin in disgust and turned to retreat through the doorway.

"Wait," she cried out, and his image in the mirror stopped but did not look at her.

"Stay here," she said pitifully. "Even you... it's better than being alone."

He was still. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard him scoff—

Maylee turned around, away from the mirror, to the sight of a room that was as empty as it had been the whole time. The cold, stinging truth that she had been alone all along.

She felt impossibly heavy, as if she had swallowed Sisyphus's metaphorical stone, as she dragged her sluggish limbs to the bed. Collapsing on the plush surface, she curled up on her side with her back to the bathroom and, by extension, the mirror. Automatically, her arms sought out Winkle and pulled the stuffed rabbit to her chest.

Only after she was already lying down did she realize she hadn't even used the toilet as she intended, and a dry, bitter laugh rumbled in her throat. Even something as simple as that, and she couldn't be trusted to handle it.

"Stupid little girl," she murmured aloud, and she tossed Winkle angrily to the floor, where he lay as still and lifeless as Papa and Dad.

maylee song.

hunter | werewolf

 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

A Package Delivered (via Discord) | Current Timeline: May 15th ​

Tags: KodakWolf KodakWolf

Chase was feeling all sorts of warm and fuzzy by the time he finished his drinks. He had watched a good portion of the festivities, but at some point he needed to head inside while the heading inside was still a possibility.

If it wasn't for Tilly's help, he likely wouldn't have made it on his own two drunken feet. At least the alcohol did help dull the pain, but Tilly was a big help. "Oooh, ye wee thing, let Tilly 'elp ye. Come on, I'll git ye where yer needed."

It was only after the fact, when Chase was laying down on the bed staring up at the ceiling after Tilly left, when he realized where he was.

Tilly had taken him to Leif's room. Wuffle wuffle.

After several more rounds of jousting, and even other games that sounded like a better bet after Bug proved himself not trustworthy to carry a lance on horseback (nor a sword, even a replica), Leif'd tried to talk to Maylee. What'd happened was partially pushed aside during the adrenaline filled moments, but never really left his mind. However, as he stood outside her room, facing the door, that dark feeling proved to be still there, despite his best efforts, intensified by her presence on the other side of the door, so close. It made him refrain from knocking. It was still not safe.

Leif instead made his way to his room, still limping from a possibly broken ankle. He'd definitely gotten carried away by entertaining Bug with his so-called immortality and had stepped over the line with the tricks. He probably wouldn't stay inside till morning, but he had to wash away the blood and mud and give his ankle a little time to heal.

After the not so friendly combat with Maylee, he'd lost track of where Chase'd been for the rest of the festivities, and was actually ready to forget about it at least until after healing and mulling over what'd happened enough. However, when Tilly'd offered him that cryptic wink and the mention of a delivered package, he'd kinda guessed where the shifter would be to be found, a guess that was now confirmed by the scent of alcohol.

"I'm not paying Tilly off, I swear." he spoke in a jokingly but tired tone after opening the door to find Chase on the bed. While it was expected, it also wasn't, and he'd have chuckled if he wasn't so drained. "Thought you had run away, actually." he limped into the room with a pain grimace, shutting the door behind him. The moon did make healing more difficult.

Chase wuffled softly when he heard the door, and then wuffled a bit more with an attempt to lift his head and look at the source of the voice. His right hand lifted and gave a little wave as a drunken goofy grin spread across his face moments before his head fell back to the pillow. Wuffle.

"Tilly said to be a good boy and stay here." There was just something about that phrase, 'good boy' that almost always had Chase wriggle his hips a couple of times in response. The human equivalent of wagging a tail, perhaps.

His right hand fell back to the mattress as he laughed with a bit of a snort, and wuffle. "I'm drunk. The.. the.. thing.. up there?" A vague gesture to the ceiling. "Ish... spinnininining. And.. it...s'fun to watch."

"That's cuz you're laying down and way over that nice buzz." Now he had to laugh at the scene. He might have miscalculated the number of screwdrivers, but it didn't seem like a big mistake since hears-all-timeloops-Tilly was going along. Chase was definitely over the nice buzz, but Leif wasn't about to turn that blood down because of some excess alcohol. There was definitely some anticipation building up, just like last time.

"Pick which side it's gonna be this time." He'd stepped over by the bed and had tapped one of Chase's feet to get his attention.

Afterwards, he limped towards the bathroom to clean up the blood and dirt first. After all Tilly'd done, it'd be unfair to hop on the bed covered in mud.

Chase went with the left this time, indicating such with a wuffle interrupted by a hiccup, ending with one more wuffle. The alcohol had helped to stave off the worst of the pain, but the 'blood letting' worked the same as before. It just took the pain away.

Chase wasn't going to be able to move though, a combination of being drunk and drained, left him snuffling and snoring into a few hours of sweet pain free oblivion.

This time had been different. There had barely been any adrenaline to season the blood, instead the alcohol and lack of tension made for a different, equally good experience.

It was only when Leif pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed that his mind managed to focus back on the fact that he had to check on Maylee. He was having a hard time reliving what'd happened, and an even harder one trying to mull it over now. It all just felt like distant worries, and he couldn't quite see why he even should be worried about it in the first place. Maylee had thrown a pretty bad fit though, he had to check on her nevertheless.

He was going to tell Chase that, that Maylee had acted super weird and he had to see how she was doing, maybe she was in a trance again. He did want to kill her for a second, now that he remembered it, so it had to be serious. As he looked over his shoulder though, Chase was too passed out to hear anything, and even if he wasn't, Leif wasn't really able to utter any words. He just sat there, brows furrowed and mouth open as if he was about to say something, only to close a few seconds later as he shook his head, giving up. Brain not functioning well, he'd figure out what to tell her once he got there.

As soon as he pushed himself off the bed to a stand though, he realized he wouldn't get there either, as everything around him started to spin. He let himself fall back to sit on the bed again just in time, before he ended up falling somewhere else off the mattress. Well shit. Guess he'd have to wait for the nice buzz to wear off. Chuckle. Shouldn't take long. For better or worse, he never stayed drunk for long, courtesy of being a vampire.

He flopped down on the bed, watching the now spinning ceiling for however long he could before dozing off (or passing out, not sure). Drunk sleep was always a damn good one.

coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:
Leif Hjalkarssen and Evelyn Harper
Location: BBQ Sword Fighting
Tags: Maeteris Maeteris ​

The first match between Maylee Song and the vampire,Leif, was a quick one. She appreciated the lack of showmanship as both seemed to be practiced fighters in their own regard even off the horse. Though at some point, Maylee Song appeared distracted, her eyes darting to and fro like a cornered animal. Evelyn’s brow perked. Was she thinking of changing into a werewolf?

That would be a sight to see. Though, perhaps it was unfair for the vampire. Maylee shuddered, expelling the contents of her meal. Oh. Something was definitely wrong. The vampire moved to assure Maylee Song but she took off towards the house.

Evelyn took a step forward without thinking, “Will she be alright?” She asked, hand outstretched to receive Maylee’s sparring sword. Evelyn wasn’t a doctor, but three hundred years would lend her a few medicinal skills, it didn’t seem to be a case of food-poisoning. Perhaps dazed by the sudden activity after a heavy meal.


Leif passed the sword on to Evelyn, but still took a moment to process her question. Once he did, he wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't know what'd just happened, and could only hope Maylee'd be alright.

"I think she needs some time." He shook his head. "I'll check on her later." He didn't know how close Evelyn and Maylee were, and whether the elven woman would go after Maylee or stay for the game. He assumed the latter, as Evelyn didn't seem to be too close with anyone so far.

"Wanna pick a horse?" He nodded towards some hitching posts near the track, where the animals had gathered up all by themselves, not needing to be rounded up or anything.


The vampire took his time with a reply, perhaps his blood-addled brain was still reeling from being knocked off his horse. He and Maylee shared a bond, how she’d came to forge that bond in the first place Evelyn had no desire to uncover.

“A horse?” She said with faux confusion. Evelyn paced a few steps towards the house. His tone was casual, as if he hadn’t been thrown off a speeding animal, but that’s one of the perks of being an undead; you had no breath to lose anyway.

“I do better on two feet, vampire.” She twirled the sword, feeling the imperfect balance and hard touch. “En garde.” She warned, and then dove into attack from a front guard, intending a quick jab to the vampire’s sternum.


The haughty Evelyn was indeed down for sword fighting on the dirt (without getting off the heels, of course), was still a bit astounding, but he was glad to be able to keep his mind busy a little longer. Her announced attack was enough to pull him away from too many thoughts so he could dodge in time and counter.

As the dance continued back and forth, he figured Evelyn, too, knew some technique, which made for more interesting sparring than if it'd been against a beginner.

"So they taught you more than just wine drinking in France, I see." He spoke between parries and strikes, attentive to how she'd react so as not to be caught off guard. Maybe she was one of the Scuris already born in America, but her fighting style gave away she was a bit older than that.


The duel began in earnest when the vampire repelled her attacks with an unrecognizeable style, perhaps a mix and match of different ones because she sees a few resemblances here and there before the vampire switches.

She fake faded as the vampire stabbed, then she countered with her own jab and slice.

Evelyn saw an opening aa the vampire spoke, and made a move to exploit it.

The strike found air, her eyes narrowing. "Peut-être que ma position de duel l'a révélé, monsieur Hjalkarssen. Je n'ai jamais été en France."But she was anxious inside, had she let her own identity slip in the heat of battle? Or did the vampire truly see through her moves?

She decided to end the fight when it reached the ten minite mark, a significant time for a duel without any clear hits to either combatants. Either the vampire was playing with her or she was losing her edge. Both were possible.

french: Perhaps my dueling stance gave it away, Mister Hjalkarssen. I have never been to France.


Perhaps it'd been whatever had happened during the fight with Maylee, or the strong scent of Evelyn's blood, but Leif was actually glad when she ended the duel by stabbing the ground. There was that concern in the bacl of his head, that maybe whatever had happened would happen again, so instead of teasing her to continue, as he usually would, he too lowered his sword.

"It's a family tradition then, I see." A small, courteous bow of his head and a small smile as he added. "It was a pleasure, Miss Scuris."
 
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A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream | Current Timeline: May 15th ​

Tags: KodakWolf KodakWolf Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Maeteris Maeteris Thropian Thropian

Festivities wound down, and the moon claimed its spot in the sky. Stars were diminished by the persistent blood red hue, still strong enough to color most of the ranch lands. Everyone had settled in for the night. Edwin, Leviathan, Devlin, and Shia took refuge in the warded caverns underneath the house. Chase and Leif enjoyed a heavy sleep thanks to a few screwdrivers and a bloody mary. Maylee and Evelyn were in their respective rooms, and Bug hadn't returned from his firefly journey to the moon.

The rest of the night should have been quiet, restful, for their bodies were spent with activities enjoyed as a family. A family of strangers slowly shifting into friends and companions. Was it too soon for those connections to pull them through the trials and tribulations yet to come? Was it too late? Tethers linked each to the moon, and maybe, each other. Blood pumped between them, shared, binding one to another, and another still. A circle of family that may, or may not have been, underneath the same roof. Regardless, their dream started out the same that night. Where it would end was anyone's guess.

As each one fell asleep, and the dream tendrils snaked around their slumbering bodies, shadows parted to reveal a modest, two story house amid a field of green clover. Two lanterns on either side provided just enough illumination to showcase ample flora and fauna on the side of an overgrown stone path. Red mushrooms jutted upward past the clover, flowers dotted the landscape, and small fireflies swam in the air. Yet, everything was slow, as if moving through molasses. Even the butterflies were caught in this strange slow motion.

Propelled forward on invisible feet, the house grew closer bit by bit. White bark of the birch trees reflected the light from lantern posts, and two hanging lamps on either side of the house's front door. A strange blue glow came from inside, leaking through small cracks and the window slats, casting an eerie light growing stronger the closer one got. A dark rabbit watched as one moved passed, and a blue butterfly fought to flutter against the strange time stream. So close, so slow, one could reach out and touch a wing before it would be able to fly away.

It was a struggle to reach the front door, every few feet it felt like hitting a brick wall. Effort was required to push forward and break the unseen barriers attempting to stop one from making it to the front step. A small grey kitten lay to the right of the door, unbothered by the time stream, or by one's appearance. Yet, one made it, and all that was left to do, was to reach out and open the door. There was a sudden realization, breathing was difficult, as if in the slowed time, air was a previous commodity that had been overlooked, neglected in the attempt to reach the house. Yet with their near silent gasps for air, there were other sounds. Whispers on the other side of the door, silent promises of freedom. Freedom to breathe, freedom to live, freedom at another chance, yet what the chance was remained a mystery.

A mystery as long as the door remained closed.



(Created in FlowScape on Steam)​



coded by natasha.
 
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She didn't notice when the vague. distant hum of self-loathing thoughts and half-lidded eyes and haggard breaths fell beneath the curtain of sleep, and when she opened her eyes to the sight of a rustic wooden house—truly rustic, not an expensive pantomime like Devlin's—she was not entirely aware that she was dreaming. Numbly, Maylee looked around; the turn of her head was abnormally slow, and even her eyes were sluggish in their sockets as she took in the distant yellow light from a pair of lanterns mounted beside the grainy wooden door, the thick spurts of plants dotted with scarlet mushrooms on either side of a roughshod stone path, the starry specks of fireflies swimming in thick, weighty air.

She reached deep into her own mind and could not hook anything solid, but she still felt, unequivocally, that she had somehow seen this house before.

Maylee's legs were as sluggish as on their journey to the bathroom as she began to lurch slowly towards the house—where else was she to go?—and, at times, she grew so severed in feeling from her legs that she wondered whether they were even carrying her at all, whether she wasn't instead being drawn slowly forward by some sort of unseen, fateful pulley. Gradually, she became cognizant of an eerie, cold light bathing the whole scene, casting a projection of strange unreality over an already-uncanny picture. Everything in her vision was something real, something that existed—wood, leaves, stone, sky, trees—but somehow, as an amalgamation, the scene pounded her with the impression that it somehow should not exist.

She became somnolently aware of a butterfly's wings, powder blue and paper-thin, folding and unfolding slowly, as if strung up in a spider's web. One image of beauty, of comfort amid the haunting scene, and she reached out with slow, fumbling fingers in an attempt to brush its wings, maybe capture some of that beauty for herself. Instead, the butterfly shrank further away the closer her hand drew, as if it refused to be touched by something so wicked and vile.

And then, all at once, the door was upon her; the gritty wood filled her vision, stretching up and around its farthest corners in a dizzying, fish-eye view that made her feel impossibly small. Maylee became suddenly, irrevocably aware that her lungs were being pinched shut; fumbling, she reached up her hands to claw with futile desperation at a closing throat. Distant, half-feral wheezing and the rapid drumming of her own heartbeat filled her ears, and Maylee continued to claw, feverishly raking her nails until she felt them grow slippery with blood.

Let me go, please, I don't understand, you're scaring me, you're hurting me—

From within the house, voices greeted her. They danced between soothing—come inside, they said; she would find what she was looking for there—and taunting—what a stupid girl; why was she so bent on destroying her own throat when the door was right there?

At length, Maylee felt a sudden, powerful force at her back, and she lurched forward with a startled cry, hands splayed out to catch herself as she impacted the door, her cheek scraping up against the rough wood. From frontal bone to phalanges, she was quivering with fever and fear.

Frightened, pitiful child.

Weakling, pale as a waning moon.

Ought to crawl back inside her mother—not that the woman would want her.

A head-rush of trembling, roiling anger welled up within her—faint and distant, as if she were floating away from her own body, but her anger nonetheless—and, gritting her teeth, Maylee pushed all of her weight against the door until it fell open and she descended irreversibly into the mouth of whatever waited to swallow her up inside.

( Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words )​

maylee song.

hunter | werewolf

 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Little Shop of Horrors | Current Timeline: May 15th ​

Tags: Maylee Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees

The door opened silently, not even a small squeak of a sound as the grained wood yielded to the pressure upon it. Instead of some expected blue glow, there was a darkness so absolute, Maylee might have felt as if she was swallowed whole by some beast laying in wait to eat unsuspecting visitors. Into the cold, black oblivion, she tumbled forward, falling into the abyss with no thing or person to help stop her descent.

Like Alice in Wonderland, her body seemed to keep falling, and falling, nearly tumbling head over heals at one point. Then, similar to the strange time stream at the beginning of her dream, things slowed, the air thickened, and the sense of falling gave way to one of floating. A look down revealed a light below, a light she continued to glide downward to meet it sooner rather than later.

Black gave way to yellow walls, and a wooden floor. There was a sense of the familiar mingling with a sense of wrongness, yet the familiar wrapped its tendrils around Maylee, tugging her close, a hug from a long lost friend. From above, she continued to guide through the slowed time stream. Size wasn't a tangible concept, certainly not when it came to her own size. At best, she became pixie like as she flew down from above to sweep over the table in the center of the room.

As she moved, the realness, or lack of, seemed to present itself in tiny flickers of light, bouncing off the metal rings of the flower pots. Twinkling off a knocker on the door of a fake house used as a display case. And still she glided through the shop, over the miniature houses setup as some dollhouse village, mingled in with palm trees, and windowsills displaying orange and yellow flowers for sale. Past a trio of windmills, one turning slowly, and still she could feel herself moving through this surreal tour of a flower shop.

A bucket of sunflowers winked as she passed them, in favor of shifting over the table in the center of the room. Past pots with mushrooms, and flowers used to make bouquets and more. A wheelbarrow carried tiny pots of rosebushes, for planting in a village shrunk by old magic. A small boat, carrying various flowers and plants, toting a couple of chests with contents unknown moved by on her left. A gazebo with red round party lights strung out on poles nearby, with guardian lion statues observed her movement toward a box on the table.

It held a diorama of sorts, a mountain range, with a river flowing in the middle. Some trees stood out against the landscape, but it was the extremely small village that seemed to be her focal point. Time slowed even more as she drew to a stop, so close, and yet so far from reaching the village. And everything just... stopped. Colors blurred together until, waking from some strong daydream, Maylee found herself standing in the flower shop, hands on the table she had just passed over.

"Dear, are you alright? You're okay to run the shop while I go make an errand, right? I'll be right back, you shouldn't have more than one or two customers, if that. Okay, off I go! Ta-ta!" Ms. Baker gave Maylee a small wave of a hand, the bell over the door jingling merrily as she left the shop in Maylee's capable hands.

A second later, the door opened, the bell jingled merrily, and a customer came inside. Standing on the other side of the table, the woman said, "I have an order for Mary Smith to pick, please." When Maylee looked up, she couldn't make out a face, but surely the woman had one. The door opened, the bell jingled merrily, and another customer came inside. A man. "Pick up for Jane Doe." And still no face to be seen. Door opened. Bell jingled. Merrily. "Need to place an order for a dozen roses."

Door opened. Bell jingled. MERRILY. Again, and again. More faceless customers entered, each one there to either pick up or place an order. The front of the flower shop became quickly crowded with faceless enigmas, demanding her attention, voices blurring together as they grew steadily impatient waiting. Waiting on Maylee.

Door opened. Bell jingled.

MERRILY.



(Created in FlowScape on Steam)​



coded by natasha.
 
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A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Disembarking | Current Timeline: May 15th​

Tags: Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Rhyme Rhyme Britt-21 Britt-21
Location: 🚌

Key gestured for the others at the front of the plane to line up once he moved his way past them to the door. Since Coda was currently fixated on Roje, as soon as the door opened, he gestured to a couple of the guards waiting there. "You, take this one, you take this one." He gestured to Indy and Morgan, 'guiding' them from the plane to the guard who took a hold of the charge in some fashion. Key grabbed the back of Foster's collar to keep the young man from going very far.

If Indy needed a little manual maneuvering to get her to the bus, Key or the guards were there to assist. She seemed to be freaking out, along with Morgan and Foster. The latter two at least were more than eager to comply if it meant they could get off the plane with the dead bodies, and the not so dead Roje. Then he addressed the group. "Again, we will be boarding a bus for a short trip, do not cause trouble. My patience is as thin as a thread."

There were other guards, just in case, waiting inside the small enclosed stairs leading down and out to the tarmac where the bus waited. Key made sure each charge had an escort before allowing them to head out of the door. "Within the hour, you'll have those cuffs removed." As if reiterating how close they were to freedom from the suppression units helped at this stage of the game.

Soon as others had exited through the door, Key looked to Coda and Roje. "Keep her with you, but remember, I'll need your services shortly after we arrive and get others settled. Then.. you'll be able to fully feed." A good reminder of the things Coda had said he wanted, or seemed eager to do. "Let's go." Key would make sure they got on the bus before boarding it himself.

Key took the back seat to keep an eye on others, with the extra guards in the front seats. He strongly suggested Coda and Roje sit in the other back seat, as the whole fight to the death and 'resurrection' seemed to have some of the others on edge. Go figure. Key was pleased as hell, but he wasn't showing it. Coda had reached a new level, unlocked even more power inside. His potential had just skyrocketed and Key knew his new assignment would cultivate that further.

It was a quiet ride for the most part, but on this bus, the windows were tinted and warded so heavily, one couldn't even see the scenery outside. Only through the front windshield, which showed them leaving the lights of the private airport and heading deeper into the darkness. A benefit of not being in the city at night would not be seen until the bus arrived and everyone was being escorted off.

The sky was absolutely breathtaking, no longer marred or masked by the lights of a city, the stars stood out in all their glory. Even the blood red moon seemed pretty in its perverse state of being. They had only a little while though to marvel at the night sky before they were ushered forward. Key and the guards had been through similar 'gatherings' as they were efficient in guiding everyone to their destination.

What appeared to be a natural rock outcropping against the landscape was actually their destination. Dark colored stone walls made a half of a room on top of old volcanic rock. A campfire crackled with life in the middle of a circle of smaller stones. However, the creatures on top of the walls in the back drew attention with the loud noises they made. They were working on the rock walls, as this was a fairly recently made structure.

The creatures were rock golems, brought to life for the sole purpose of doing the Coven's construction. They growled off and on as they worked on shaping the walls with blows from their fists. Glowing yellow-orange eyes turned to observe the group as they entered the area, pausing only a moment before returning to their work.

Everyone was guided to the stone ring. Those sensitive to magic would likely feel goosebumps the closer they were drawn toward the fire in the middle. Key addressed the group. "You will step into the fire and take five steps forward once you are teleported. Any questions? No. Good." He wasn't really giving them time to ask, and nodded to the guard holding onto Morgan.

Morgan was pulled along kicking and screaming in fear of the fire. However, the fire didn't burn either Morgan or the guard. One moment it looked like the flames were engulfing their bodies, but without heat. There was no sound or smell of burning clothing or flesh. They simply disappeared with a small shimmering effect to indicate a portal, for those familiar with such magic. The guard holding Indy followed suit, dragging her if needed.




(Created in FlowScape on Steam)​



coded by natasha.
 
Last edited:


Maylee couldn't so much as utter a cry of fear as she was devoured by a sudden, all-consuming darkness; every sense was stunned to stillness as she lurched forward and began to fall.

Since childhood, she had had frequent nightmares of falling, had always awoken to the sensation of slamming down in bed, her lungs straining for air. A soft landing, and still a frightening one. That was the truth, after all—it wasn't the fall that scared her, but the inevitable impact. She had been around five years old that time she clambered up a tree and, while hugging the trunk to her chest as she tried to shimmy back down, had lost her grip and sailed backward into the air, arms spread like a bird on a current of wind. There had been a moment of enthralling weightlessness, and for a moment, she had thought she might sprout wings.

Not so. Reality always brought with it the inevitable crash.

Even now, though, as she tumbled down, down, down into the bowels of some tenebrous, unseen creature, she dared to wonder whether the impact would ever come, whether she wouldn't simply fall forever.

Again—not so. Gradually, she felt herself wind down, the air rushing in her ears quieting to a gentle, eerie hum. Every cell in her body was alight with warning—something was wrong, wrong, wrong here—but even as the promise of pain and abandonment and failure teased at the locks of hair floating about her face, she let it draw her like a magnet. They were, after all, old friends.

Maylee looked about dazedly as she floated gently into a kitschy, liminal scene; the shop that stretched around her faintly echoed with familiarity here and there—that pot looked like one of Ms. Baker's; that little windmill reminded her of one of the knick-knacks the florist liked to keep around her shop, but she didn't understand why it was spinning—but on the whole, its atmosphere of being slightly off engorged the more mundane of its sights into grotesqueries. Eyes peered out of the windows of the tiny houses she sailed past, and then the windows were eyes; one of the lion statues seemed to run its tongue over teeth as she passed; she swore the sunflowers murmured a chorus of impish, derisive giggles among themselves. Maylee looked dizzily about the room that seemed to grow by the second, making her ever smaller and more insignificant, until her head turned as if forced toward a miniature landscape on the table, a tiny cluster of houses that welcomed her with either gleeful or sinister intent—

She gave a start at the sudden interjection of a familiar voice, and Maylee turned, breathless, to see Ms. Baker on her way out of a shop built to a normal human scale.

"Ms. Baker?" Her heart gave a leap at the sight of the woman. She hadn't had time to check on her before she left. Was she feeling all right? Had she recovered from that frightening episode—? "Candace? W—Wait a minute, are you—"

But Ms. Baker merely grinned opaquely as she slipped through the door, and Maylee looked around in a nervous daze. Wait—when had she gotten back to the shop? She had decided herself unworthy of the call of the blood moon and had determined to return home, but she couldn't remember the conversation with Devlin, nor the flight home. Had she blocked it from her memory in her humiliation? And then—an uncertain, sinister question burned at the back of her mind—had the shop always looked like this?

Before she could try to draw up memories from the well of the past, the bells Ms. Baker had rigged up to the door gave a tinny jangle, and she stood up straighter, forcing herself into the practiced automation of customer service. Only—

Maylee felt a primal, intangible dread plunge deep within her at the sight of the customer's warped, indistinct blur of flesh where a face should be. The voice that issued forth was normal, like any other human voice filtered through a pair of functioning human lips, but there were no lips to be seen.

"I—" she stammered, drawing back from the table. "I'll, um—of course. I'll go check in the back. Just a minute—"

Before she could move, though, another customer entered, equally urgent and equally faceless. She felt her mouth run dry. "Y-Yeah, no problem, just give me a—"

Another cheerful jingle, another barked request, another watery pool of flesh instead of a face. The ringing and the voices and the encroaching figures began to overlap, filling the room to bursting as the names of flowers decayed into unintelligible, vicious chanting.

"I—I don't understand—" Her voice was shaking as her breath hitched. "One at a time, please, I'll get to all of you—"

No; they all needed their flowers, and they needed them now, and Maylee could feel her shoulders trembling as the ringing of the bells became a constant, unending loop like high, manic laughter; they were all looking at her and waiting for her and scorning her, and she couldn't move or speak, and Ms. Baker would never have let so many customers pile up unsatisfied, Ms. Baker would never have been so uselessly petrified, Ms. Baker shouldn't have trusted her with the store, anyway because all she could do was disappoint—

"Enough," Maylee cried out as her hands wrenched themselves over her ears, only barely muffling the ringing that seemed now to come from inside her head. "ENOUGH! I don't have what you want. I can't do what you want. Don't you get it? I can't do anything!" Her voice was rising with the equally sudden and unwanted tide of tears in her throat. Once, just fucking once, couldn't she hold herself together enough not to cry—?

"Get OUT," she was screaming, now, feebly trying to drown out the noise of the bells. "I can't help you! I can't help anyone! I can't do anything except fall short every fucking time—so just leave me ALONE—"

And then her eyes caught a glimpse of the box with the miniature village tucked inside on the table below, and with impulsive, feral fury, she hefted the box over her head and flung it violently into the crowd of faceless scorn.

( Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words )​

maylee song.

hunter | werewolf

 


(CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE)

Coda understood what had just happened about as well as everyone else. Which was to say, of course, that he hadn't a fucking clue.

He was dazed and elsewhere as they departed the plane, his arm still coiled viciously around Roje. She had died. He had killed her. But then... she had come back—? He had done something that had brought her back?

He could remember wanting to deny death before, once.

(He tried to lift Maria out of the tub, strained with his small, skinny arms, but she was cold and stiff and wouldn't move and he was tiny and weak and couldn't make her. Sometimes, he could be strong—impossibly so—but only when he didn't want to. Like when he had hurt the cat.

Giving up on hauling her out, the boy had pressed himself up against the rim of the tub and grabbed his mother by the cheek. "Wake up, Mommy." He never called her that. "Come on, Mommy, please."

But her eyes were open, he realized; she couldn't be asleep, then, right—? They were glassy and would not move, would not look at him, but they were open, and so—

—then he looked down at her wrists, and he realized that, wherever that cat had gone, she had gone to the same place, and 'wake up' morphed into a pleading: "Come back."

Over and over again, he shook her by the shoulders, his voice a whining litany of: "Come back, come back, please come back—"

Until it dawned heavily that wherever she was, she could not hear him, either, and so he began to entreat the someone else, the faceless voices that were always whispering to him and hovering just out of his line of sight: "Give her back."

He knew they were here. He knew they could hear him. They never shut up when he wanted them to, never left him alone when he needed it, but now, now they chose to go dark on him.

The boy trembled, and the grief within him erupted into violence.

"I said GIVE HER BACK—")

It was a voice that snapped him out of the pit of memory—Key's. Coda stared dazedly and tried to blink his surroundings into focus—where had he gone, again? Why was Key there? Wasn't he below Key's pay grade, little more than a glorified attack dog—?

Then it came rushing back with Key's reminder, striking him in the brain like a hot iron. His services. Fully feeding. An almost-forgotten fever, a hunger—for a rotten soul, yes, but for power more than anything else—pulsed within him, and his scattered mind concentrated to a single point. Roje—he would figure it out later. For now, he had power to seize, to finally make his own.

He squeezed his arm more tightly around Roje, as much to assert himself as to make sure she was still there, that he had not imagined it, that she indeed had come back from the place Maria had disappeared to.

Mine, he thought again, the feral hunger in him rumbling. No one else can have her. Not even death.

He was silent, enveloped in intense anticipation and preemptive adrenaline, during the bus ride and their subsequent disembarking. His eyes scanned the lines of toiling rock golems, but his brain scarcely processed the sight; all perception had ebbed save for the crackling fire that made his hair stand on end and Key's instruction to step inside.

Coda would have done it even if it did burn, but then the little kitten's (a moniker always tinged with disgust in Coda's head) screaming tapered off as he and the guard were swallowed by a swathe of light. Better, he thought. He wouldn't have to waste time healing from burns.

Gripping Roje by the arm, Coda took a step forward at the same time as Indy's new guard; the latter's eyes flicked nervously as he stepped back, allowing Coda first passage. A disgusting sort of pleasure tingled in Coda's chest at the sight of the fear in the guard's eyes. Fear of him.

"Let's go," he said gruffly to Roje, and then he took another step into the fire, bathing them both in flames whether she was ready or not.


coda.

half-demon

 
It's an incredible feeling, sitting at the base of towering purgatory.

Indy had been distantly aware of arms heaving her upward from her prone state, her mind a scattering of thoughts that danced between past and reality as all merged into one distorted foggy light that blinded her gaze. Only in the bus, cheek once again pressed to the window, did she collect herself enough to string considerations together in a conscious manner. The deep gashes on her arms stung, the wounds stretching and splitting under the tight grip of her hands as she curled her body as tightly into the seat as possible.

When had it happened? How had she ignorantly passed from one world to the next? Had it been the arrival of Foster, had they both died before reaching the limo? Or was it earlier, some forgotten event occurring long before Foster arrived in her apartment?

Did her mother already miss her?

Indy let out a slow breath, watching the window fog as she stared at the glowing red moon out the windshield, surrounded by an army of stars that burned bright with their apathetic beauty. Slowly, she raised one hand in front of her eyes, covering the moon.

Nothing makes sense. Or, maybe, she had ignored the signs all along, living under the brightest harbinger of Hell every night, unaware until the devil was literally brought to her kitchen.

Pulling her hand back, she laid it in her lap. It was coated in blood, the untouched creases of her palm as bright as scars. When she looked back up, she noticed the large rocks that they seemed heading right for, the roots of purgatory; fitting, frankly. Dante would be proud.

Indy was barely surprised by the massive cavern as they were escorted inside. Even the giant rock beasts with their glowing eyes were met with a sharp glare as they turned their empty gazes her way. The old fear that had been rolling in her heart since her capture had given way to detached, bubbling anger. Even as Key introduced his newest trial by fire, Indy only felt a dull displacement that finally dropped her hands from her arms. She watched as the kid was dragged by his guard, fighting against the oncoming death with desperate kicks, into the fire. She allowed the guard to drag her forward, his grip digging into her burning arms as she stared into the splitting and flickering flames, a fire hungry for more bodies to swallow.

But she was stopped. Coda had stepped forward, the curl of his arm around Roje as predatory as it was protective as her guard stumbled back in trepidation, the earthy floor spitting up dust under his feet as he pulled Indy back and allowed Coda forward. The demon messiah himself, taking priority as he marched into the fire--taking the product of his inhuman powers along with him.

They will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur.

"Hands off, fucking coward." Indy ripped her arm from her guard's grip, which had loosened as he had stumbled back in fear from Debbie-demon-downer.

So much of her life had been spent in hiding, running from forces she didn't quite understand; her mother had made it clear enough, returning home as what she was--a shifter--was impossible. Truly, Indy had never really considered why; her father had made it clear enough, what they were was unusual but not evil or unnatural. But Indy now understood what those phrases truly were, common platitudes for a rejected child in need of comfort. Cowardly, unbelieving, vile, practician of the magic arts--check every goddamn box, this was always her fate from the start.

She marched toward the fire, pausing momentarily as the flames reached out to kiss her ankles, reaching out and calling her home. This is the second death.

Her feet kicked a few stray stones aside, sending them clattering away as she spun around to stare into the small, flickering reflection of her own eyes within Key's dark glasses. Her tongue darted out to lick her dry and cracked lips, bloody hands turned outward.

Fuck it.

If this was death, she would meet it with open arms. There was no place for fear, only the universal signal for a clear fuck you lifted to the sky as she stepped back into the fire. She continued to keep focused on Key as the flames rose, only shutting her eyes once the blinding light had swallowed her completely.
​
 


Winnie knew what she had to do to survive this. It was simple.

She was not here right now.

Talent couldn't have been the appropriate word, but it was an area in which Winnie excelled ever since she had first begun to train those skills on the sweat-soaked sheets of her sour-smelling bed in her bear trap of a childhood home. If she fixed her eyes on that old chip of plaster flaking off the ceiling at just the right spot in just the right way, she found herself transported, transformed. Leaving the dingy, cloying embrace of her bed behind, she floated up, up, past the leaky old roof, out of sight of the squat, ugly rows of houses standing in phalanx that comprised her neighborhood, into the dark but glittering sky where she rode the wind with the birds and danced with the stars.

If she really, really focused, sometimes she could even make it last through the night.

And so she knew what to do. She was not on an airplane, fixed with cuffs and an uncertain fate; she was in a garden, the type she used to admire as distant fantasies while flipping through magazines during quiet intervals of a childhood afternoon. Fat, swollen bushes of hydrangeas bobbed in a gentle, pollen-spotted breeze; apple and pear and cherry blossoms hung from their branches like whimsical trapeze artists; all manners of insects, not just the pretty ones like butterflies, hovered in and around the fertile blossoms, their spindly legs dripping with sweet nectar.

She was not on a bus, stinking of diesel and so bumpy it sent pain through her skull with each pothole traversed; she was playing with the cats, only she wasn't confined to the narrow alleyway lurking grubbily behind her Lady's manor. She was in a suite of her own, a huge, clean, sweet-smelling bed framed by powder-pink gossamer drapes fit for a princess. Sunlight streamed through the identical curtains blanketing the windows, dappling the cats' fur as they twisted and wriggled around between the pillows. This one had a silk ribbon tied delightfully around its neck; that one had a little bell appended to its collar, and it released a tiny, musical jingle that filled the room with a certain fancifulness.

She was not approaching a stark, towering amalgam of rock dotted with huge, robust, frightening golems; she was in front of a sparkling, floor-to-ceiling mirror, and for once she did not resent what she saw. A knee-length, charming mint-colored dress fanned out in a hoop around her form, puffy sleeves like marshmallows and layers of ruffles at the hem like dew dropping from petals in an early morning. A frilly white pinafore cocooned the dress beneath, bedecked with ruffles of its own and tiny buttons embellished with little white flowers. A flouncy ribbon tied around her waist completed the ensemble, and it fluttered delicately up and down as she grasped her skirts and spun like a hummingbird's wings. For a fleeting moment, there was no distaste, no disgust in the image framed by the mirror; for a moment, she saw only the beautifully-tailored garment as the feeble girl beneath it disappeared entirely in the enchantment.

There was a brief moment of clarity, of awareness as she realized Banks was guiding her forward to step into a fire. She had been watching and listening with only half a brain, had watched Morgan and then Coda and Roje and then Indy as they were swallowed up by the hungry flames, and now it was her turn. It was strange, she thought, that after such an arduous journey, they had all been brought here merely to die after all, and she found herself trembling as she pressed close to Banks's side and took hesitant steps forward.

But it would be okay. She was not here right now.

Winnie took in a deep breath and let her eyes drift shut, and when she stepped forward, she was not stepping into a fire but through the frame of a clean door adorned with a wreath, and the smells that wafted from inside were savory and sweet, and the faces that greeted her were gentle and smiling, were truly a family as they received her with a chorus:

Welcome home, Winifred.


winnie sawyer.

psychic vampire

 
Roje.png
1596919550882.png
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Rhyme Rhyme | Locations: Plane -> Bus -> Cave

Roje felt like nothing but dead weight. Especially when she was picking up multiple different smells of blood and standing there like nothing happened. Coda held her and it seemed like he wasn't going to release her any time soon. Key assigned new Guards to Indy and Morgan before they left the plane. This was great, absolutely fucking fantastic. Fuck this. Fuck everything. Fuck whatever the fuck just happened. I hate it. I want to leave. Let me just fucking die out in the sun! Anything to get me away from this fucking insanity! she thought to herself as the arm around her body had tightened before being moved into the bus where she quietly sat next to Coda. Her mind swirling with thoughts while barely hearing Key telling Coda about his "Feeding". Barely hearing that almost made her huff out a slight laugh. But she managed to hold that in, just to keep the peace and the quiet. There was enough drama today that could drive anyone up the damn wall. While sitting quietly in the bus, her head was leaned up against the window. Her eyes barely able to pick up outside but she seen some nonetheless.

She was dead. Granted as a Vampire she already kinda was dead, but... Roje died. Seen the other side where many stuck around, wondering aimlessly in a foggy set of woods. Claiming they couldn't let go of what had still been on the earth and that, that was preventing their way to the afterlife. Basically she was left in Limbo for the time being before a shadow put its hands on her ankles and dragged her right through a portal that brought her back to the land of the living. Second time she's died. It was like life refused to let her drop dead. Let her die, let her get out of this literal eternity of being on earth till the damn thing ended. I'm asking for too fucking much. she thought, continuing to feel mixed emotions while sitting next to the half-demon. Ever since she was brought back, she felt nothing but flares of emotions, emotions she never felt before. Such as a possessive nature. Why was she feeling that? She had no clue.

It didn't take long for the group to get to their destination and Roje was dragged out. "You mother fucker I know how to walk!" she snapped, gritting her teeth as she ripped her arm from Coda's grasp, walking with the group out into the open night. The red moon causing her chest to tighten a bit, though she refused to let anyone notice her discomfort. Before she knew it, they were in a cave with Golems and walking toward a campfire within the middle of a stone ring. Instantly her body began to react, chills running up her spine as she felt as if something was watching her. Quickly she turned and then looked around, only to begin hearing whispers that only made her grow more worried. What the hell...? Does no one else hear that!? was she the only one hearing the creepy whispers? Looking around at the others, none were reacting to them. In fact they were just casually walking into the fire and disappearing before her eyes. Not another fucking portal. she's been through one before and boy was it the biggest regret of her life.

Coda once again had grabbed her arm forcefully and dragged her closer to the fire. The whispers growing louder and louder, making Roje try to cover her ears from the constant whispering. Coda wouldn't understand her struggles the closer he got to the fire. In fact, as soon as he was almost on top, the whispers turned into screaming, which only started to make her head feel like it was going to explode, a small noise of pain leaving her lips as she continued to be dragged right into the fire with Coda.​
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Buckle Up Buttercup | Current Timeline: May 15th​

Tags: Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Rhyme Rhyme Britt-21 Britt-21
Location: Coven HQ

Two by two, they entered the fire and were washed in the flames of hell, more or less. They were transported to another location. It looked like a small room, with the same volcanic rock floor, and a facade of a house before them. To the right was a carving meant to look like some old ancient relic of churches long since forgotten. Through the grates of the carving, hooded figures stood, paying attention to something other than those just arrived.

On the left were bookcases, and on top crates with bottles, potions or wine, it was difficult to tell. Key arrived last, dragging Foster with him. A couple of coven members had been waiting for their arrival, and opened the 'house' door. As they moved through and down a stone corridor and a turn to the right where a larger cavernous room waited, it would become clear they were inside a mountain, or underground cave. There were no windows, no skylights, only rock, and lanterns.

As they entered the larger room, each guard started to direct their charge to rooms along the left wall. They were definitely cell-like in nature, and gave goosebumps of magic, much like the fire portal had. Each room had a cell in the back, furnished with a twin sized cot, a chest at the foot of the bed to store items, and a small privacy screen for the open bathroom area. The screen would still show one's silhouette, but not any details.

Key helped show where they needed each charge to go. Morgan went into the first one, his guard pushing him into the cell in the back of the room. It was sealed with magic, and one by one, the charges were assigned a cell. Foster went in the second, Indy would be the third, and Winnie was going in the last cell, with Banks probably the only one trying to not manhandle their charge. "Make sure they are fully in their cell in the back, and we will make sure it is sealed. Then we'll see about those cuffs."

coded by natasha.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Rhevens Coldwater

Tags Silver- Silver- | Location: No Clue ​


Rhevens visibly jerked when Silver howled, and he twitched the longer it went on. Twitched until he started to convulse with tremors strong enough to bring him to the ground on his hands and knees. Teeth ground together as he let out a strangled sound. It rumbled deep in his chest, and pushed past the clenched jaw.

It started off as a human attempting to howl, but changed as Rhevens changed. The shifting itself just sounded painful, and he clearly fought tooth and nail against it. In the end though, the human lost, Midnight won, and the black wolf joined Silver in the howl. Midnight was a little larger than an average wolf, with hints of the werewolf here and there. It had longer canines, a slightly longer muzzle, and the wolf gave an overall feral intelligence. While the eyes showed Rhevens was present, Midnight was in control.

When the howling ended, the black wolf seemed to silently regard Silver for a moment, before something else drew its attention. As if changing forms was the key to something, there was a small parting in the trees they didn't see before. It was wolf sized, humans would have had a difficult time noticing it, much less crawling through the bramble.

Midnight was apparently a much more take charge personality than Rhevens. With a snort, the black wolf headed for the new opening. He did pause at the entrance, head swiveling back to regard Silver for a moment, before making a rumble noise meant to be a 'come on'.

coded by natasha.
 
SILVER BLACKWOOD
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words | Location: Following Midnight to the Ends of the Earth​

A long, solemn song split the silence within the distorted woodland, met with the unnatural cries of pain that came from the contorting body in the clearing. The human part of Silver wanted to coddle Rhevens out of concern despite her barely knowing the male, something she never would’ve thought of doing to someone before considering her tendency to avoid people altogether. The wolf part of her gripped firmly on the reins though and she felt her concern melt away into something that she eased into perfectly. A lack of concern for his struggling. She could hear his teeth grinding as his jaw clenched in a painful grimace, the scent of fresh soil hitting her nose whilst it was being uprooted by his desperation for some sort of purchase to leverage the agony wracking his human form.

The answering call that reverberated beside Silver caused the white wolf to shudder from the sheer proximity of being in the presence of another. Neither Silver herself nor her wolf had ever been able to meet one until now. She panted softly when their chorus ceased, flicking her ears at Midnight whom now stood next to her and in locking gazes with the other wolf, Silver couldn’t help but stare. The familiar presence from before had to have been him. She was slow to follow whatever had caught Midnight’s attention, too busy thumping her tail against the marked earth as mundane excitement swelled from her. It seemed she hadn’t entirely succumb to the more refined will of her own wolf.

Silver’s head had begun to tilt slowly to one side in watching Midnight step away towards an entrance that she pricked her ears at. They’d missed it somehow? Or maybe the path had been opened somehow—a key to getting out had been located. She ambled forward once the dark wolf signaled to her with a deep rumble and shifted her weight so that she no longer appeared to be limping once again, hoisting herself up shakily despite her forceful will to conceal the rest her body achingly yearned for.
 
Edwin Blut
Location: Dreamland or something.
Tags: None​
The bear curled up against a wall of the cave. He slept soundly, comfortablly safe from the reach of the moon light. Yet, as with the night before, his dreams were a confusing mess of strange symbology and half remembered feelings. But unlike all his previous visions and dreams, this one was a place he had not seen before.

The dream began with the sights of a field, clover and mushrooms, fireflies and butterflies, a comfortable scene if not for the ominous house at the edge. The house loomed over the fields, small lanterns beside the doors illuminating the world, and the stone path that rent the fields apart. The house was foreign, strange, and uncomfortable. And it called to Edwin.

Called to him, and pulled him in. Despite his efforts to resist the pull, it dragged him ever closer, ripping him through the barriers he dreamt up futilely. As the house loomed over him, the strange and ghastly light from within grew brighter, spilling through the walls themselves as the house readied itself to smother the feeble druid.

As he was pulled up onto the porch, his panic multiplied as his breath was ripped from his throat. He choked and gagged at the emptyness in his lungs. Never had his dreams tore so violently into him, never had he felt such agony so viscerally. But as he was silently smothered, he heard the door whispering to him. "Freedom." it said, "Freedom."

The promises of freedom, the repeated chant of it, doubled with the slow death of nothing, drove Edwin to reach out and take the doors handle. He pulled open the door, and fell into it. Searching, if for nothing else, the ability to breathe again.
 

Hayley.png
1596994180836.png
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words | Location: Coven HQ

Hayley gave him one last warm smile before leaving the room and off to get a chocolate bar for the both of them. It wasn't trouble for her to go on and get something for someone who clearly deserved more credit than they were given. Sage wasn't bad, he wasn't evil. His anger was justified with the situations he was put into, and his fear was built on keeping him locked up in the dark. He needed something to ground him, or someone to be close to him to calm him when he was in such a state... Hayley wanted to be that someone. A motherly figure to help him get through the rough times and make him feel like he's not just a slave. If I could keep talking to him like this, and bond with him... Surely I could make him feel like he has even more to treasure than just his garden. While angered, he wouldn't be able to be in such a relaxing place just to calm him. There needs to be a relationship between himself and a human, just as Beauty conquered the Beast. Except I wouldn't be falling in love.

It took her a while simply because she had been thinking to herself the entire time. But eventually she got those bars and returned back to the room where Sage still remained and she walked in "I got the chocolate." she said in a sing-song voice, a smile on her face "Sorry for taking so long. I had some things that distracted me." she then held out a bar to him and once he had taken it, she moved to the bench and sat down, opening up her chocolate and having small talk with the large man. Trying to make him laugh and smile in the time they were together. It felt like forever that they were in the room for, and of course, the brunette lost track of time, completely forgetting about the shadow for tonight. However, a knock at the door had her look over and she spoke up "Come in." who could be possibly interrupting her time with Sage? When they peeked in, she noticed a familiar dark-haired male. Chocolate brown eyes and a wonderful stubble going on along his face. "What brings you over here, Eli?" she asked, standing up from the bench as he spoke up.

"Your shadow is in an hour. I just came to remind you." he said, looking at her and then glancing at Sage, before looking back at her.

Ah, right. The shadow. She had to take care of that "Alright, thank you, Eli. I'll go and get ready then." when he nodded and headed off, she turned and looked at Sage "That's my cue to go and get ready." she moved back over to him and patted his head "I'll see you soon, Sage. Be good, okay? If you have any problems, you know who to come to." she then pointed to herself "You come to Hayley." giving him one last warm smile, she moved to the door and grasped the handle "See you again soon, Sage." with that said, she opened it and walked out, closing the door behind her and heading to her room, where she then changed, did her makeup and did her hair as well before putting on her clothes which made her look pretty professional to a degree. She surely looked the part, it just had a little flare to it.
1596996474822.png1596996536314.png
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Welcome Home | Current Timeline: May 15th​

Tags: Edwin Thropian Thropian

When Edwin stepped through the door, there was nothing but darkness. Slient, stoic darkness swallowed him whole. The world seemed to spin rather than fall. Until there was a sound other than his own breathing. A sound of birds, insects buzzing, a babbling brook or river. And then there was light.

Emerging from the void, Edwin found himself moving slowly through trees of a forest. Birch and redwood, yellow and pink flowers scattered through the forest undergrowth. A small family of rabbits held court by a small log peppered with mushrooms. Past a clump of yellow wildflowers, over a river with the water so clear, one could see the fish and frogs underneath the surface. A fox rested partially hidden by a brush on the other side of the river.

And still he seemed to travel forward, ever forward. A majestic stag stood watch over its family, watching as Edwin turned and headed toward a small cave. A blue light emanated from within, beckoning him closer still. It felt right, like peace personified into a single moment, this moment, of the bear coming home.

Deep inside the cave, he could hear the soft wuffs and rumbles of bear cubs, and the answering grunts of their mother. They turned to look at his return, and they welcomed the bear home. This is where he was meant to be. The bear who thought it was a human for a time, returned to its true form, its true family. This is where he should stay. See the cubs grow into strong bears.

Until there were voices outside of the cave, his cave. Human voices, and the scent of man grew stronger as they approached the cave. "Saw 'im go in here. Git yer guns ready." And the cocking of a shotgun couldn't be mistaken as it echoed with its promises of death through the cavern. And one of his cubs started to whimper.

Then there it was, one of the hunters crouching to peer into his home. The red baseball hat on top of a head of brown hair, and no face. "Here they is! We gots them!" And another faceless hunter joined the first, then another. And another. Each time, a voice could be heard. "We gots them!"

"We gots them!"

"WE GOTS THEM!"

And another shotgun was cocked and loaded.



(Created in FlowScape on Steam)​



coded by natasha.
 
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