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A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Wendy Sawyer

Tags: Winnie Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Britt-21 Britt-21 Rhyme Rhyme | Location: Coven HQ ​


Wendy and Key stood in the line of sight, but out of the way as coven members descended upon not just Winnie's cell, but Morgan's. Two members worked together to cast a quick sleeping spell on the young fae-cat, and levitated his body out. They had to walk slowly, one in front, one behind, fingers moving as they guided Morgan out of the cell, out of the room, and out of sight down a corridor to the right.

There were four coming in to assist with the relocation of Wendy and Banks. Banks still had a grasp on Wendy's wrist, and both eyes remained fixated on her. There wasn't any other reaction or motion from him as her cell door was opened. Two of them had spells at the ready, the other two were using different spells to help clean the mess magically.

Wendy watched her sister the whole time. Speaking loud enough for Winnie to hear as she addressed Key. "What do you think she created? It's not acting right."

Key tilted his head, looking toward Banks. "Hard to say. It isn't going rampant like you would expect a newborn vampire to do. Then again, your sister isn't a regular vampire. When she killed her partner, it was by draining his life force, not his blood. Isn't that right, Winifred?" A small pause before he continued, "Do you even remember Kessler's face as you devoured every last tidbit of life from his body?"
coded by natasha.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Sweet & Sour | Current Timeline: ??? ​

Tags: Clementine @AsherMasher
Location: ???

Lew moved to hug Clementine when it was done. "You did great, but yes, it's getting late." She drew back and smiled at the witch. "You need a small bit of time off, but not too long or you'll grow soft." One hand moved to smooth down some of Clementine's hair.

"Don't be afraid of what you may see or hear, remember that I am always near." Lew started to back up a few steps, her wings unfolding behind her. "But you need to see part of what you will face, when it's time to take your place."

Lew gave Clementine one more smile, and started to move her hands, casing a spell. "It will be short and quick, then you'll be taken to the sleep trick. Be safe Clementine, I'll see you on your next rise and shine." The spell went off, and darkness swallowed the glade away.

When Clementine was aware of her surroundings again, it was with a faint beeping on either side. She could tell she was laying down on a bed, with something over her nose and mask. The air was fresh, clean, like in her glade. A slight sensation of straps could be felt around her wrists, ankles, and across her torso. Whirring of machines would be heard, and soon after, unknown voices.

"Have the new spot prepped yet?" Male voice, sound of authority.

"Uh, almost done. ETA on arrival?" Another male, bored tone of voice.

"On the way from holding now. Oh, did you see the note? Not just the usual siphon."

"Yeah, the collection table is going to be used. No worries."

"Good. Okay, once you're done there, don't forget rounds."

All the sounds started to fade then, ebbing out of Clementine's awareness, along with the sensations of being on a table, or strapped down, or the mask. Bit by bit until she could feel the comfortable mattress of her own bed in her grandparent's home. All was right with her world again.

coded by natasha.
 

Roje.png
1598323489922.png
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Rhyme Rhyme | Location: The Dungeons

Roje heard the faint sounds coming from Winnie's cell, though she couldn't figure out the exact cause for those sounds. The Vampire began to pace in her cell, catching a good whiff of the one person she hated most: Key. The bastard who dragged everyone here and now has them trapped. Using them for whatever game he was playing. A new scent had been around his and she had no idea on who they were...Till they spoke up. A taunting tone she was using towards Winnie no doubt because when Roje looked over at the opening of her own cell, there was no one there. Indy's sister was...well..her...so it didn't apply. Hearing the tone coming out of Key's mouth almost made her gag Ugh that does not fit a skinny dick like that. she thought, turning her back to the opening again, lowering her head and running her hands through her hair Alright Roje, breathe. Calm do- she almost gagged once again. Did she just hear the woman call him "Dear"? Oh no. She was...is... She's fuckin fucking Key. You're absolutely kidding me right? so much for thinking he was some kind of guy who couldn't get anyone into bed with him. Or he was just so fucking insane he wouldn't let anyone get in his pants.

Whatever Mama Vamp had done to her sister, it didn't sound right, but from what Roje could tell, she was more frail than a flower. There had to be a reason for 'abandoning' her sister. If that's even what happened. Roje continued to listen, her hazel eyes narrowing at the wall she was facing. So a vampire hadn't been made? What did she mean by he didn't look right? Alright. Shitty situation. Shitty people. she clenched her jaw a little, taking in a deep breath and trying to let it out quietly. Her lips pursed as she continued to think What would he do? What would they do? In a cell, bound by magic and fancy scribbles. She was a Vamp, not a witch. She couldn't mess with the runes unless she had some magical properties or something to fuck with them. Which she had none of. I was in a cell before. A cube but a cell nonetheless. There were guards...My restraints not to my liking but... she was trying to see if she could remember anything from that time in her life. Back when Dean was still alive. The only way I got out was from someone on the other si- Fuck. Coda. Dammit. Shit. Fuck. Mother fucker. Son of a bitch. he wasn't here and there was no way in hell he'd be back anytime soon. So much for that idea.

The scream had snapped her from her thoughts and she shifted her eyes to the one side of them. Still not turning toward her bars. She didn't want to see anyone, no one needed to look at her. Just keep her back to the enemy. Granted that was a bad idea but as a vampire it had its perks of hearing and reaction time. Though she did turn slightly so she had a slightly better view at her opening. It didn't take long to see Morgan being floated away and out of the room. Dammit where are they taking him? she asked herself, the smell of vomit and blood being cleared up and allowing Roje to happily rub off the blood from her nose. Ears picked up the discussion between Key and his fuck toy and she gritted her teeth. Her mouth got her in trouble, but if she wasn't talking directly to them, then maybe she would be fine. How dare this sick son of a bitch use Winnie's past against her. That wasn't fair at all. No one should have that rubbed in. "Winnie," said Roje, her tone serious, almost flat "Don't Listen to him. He's trying to get a rise out of you as he does everyone else. Feeding into it is only going to give him more satisfaction." she knew this because she did it to Coda. Bullying him till he snapped. Though, she did remember stopping just to have a moment of realism with him. That she wouldn't hurt him with that look on his face. He was broken in ways he probably had no clue over.

Which was why he carelessly listened to Key and attacked Banks. He was being bred into an attack dog and that damn half-demon couldn't see it. Every fight she had with him was because she picked on him, teased him till he snapped. She was no better than Key himself. Moving close to the wall, she pressed her hands against the wall, arms stretched out and her head hung down as she began to laugh. Definitely audible to those around. Her laugh was bittersweet and the look on her face matched it. Though with her hair, no one could see that. I'm no better than that fucking Skinny Dicked prick. He did the same things to me, talked to me as if I was a child, looked at me like an annoyed father would. she began to shake her head as her laughs lasted longer. Hands on the wall balling into fists.​
 
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SILVER BLACKWOOD
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words | Location: Garden of Eden​

Warmth flooded the white wolf’s body as her taut muscles lost their rigidity due to the strength she could feel weaving into her aching bones and sinew. Sage seemed genuinely concerned for both of their well beings despite his intimidating appearance and denying her offer of food in return for his hospitality only bolstered his unspoken motives. Flicking her ears, she gave in to his kindness once more, noting how the pressure that bore down on her body seemed to have lessened—if only a bit. The rustling of vegetation halted her efforts to settle into another crouch, her white and dark crimson coat spiking up at the flitting thought of a threat being afoot only to hear squeaking uproar from some nearby flowers that her hard gaze focused on. Sage was quick to soothe and assist the small creature whom was soon revealed to be a mouse.

It was odd, she thought, a mouse or even another animal in a place like this. Walls encircled them and the only entrance or egress was where the Minotaur had manifested from in the first place. The time between the door being open and closing had been brief, so how had it not been crushed? Pushing her thoughts aside, she scarfed up the last bit of meat to settle down again, observing the interaction between rodent and mythical creature.

Muffled voices erupting from behind the stone wall had Sage urging them to become silent, insisting that their safety would be ensured if they did as he whispered. Such effort to keep them hidden, but why? She took her spot beside Midnight once more, resting her head on her paws as she laid on her belly. Sage touched one of the rocks to activate something--a cloaking device, perhaps? Her amber-gold eyes rested on the tiny shape that was partially hidden by a wedge of cheese, narrowing her eyes when the people that greeted at Sage asked of the same type of rodent and included the phrase ‘escaped project’. So there was a bigger plan after all. A huff of what sounded like amusement left the fae’s chest as she listened to the minotaur boast about his acting skills. He was lying to those associated with him or his higher ups now. Sage was going to these lengths to protect them--but why? The question would forever dance in her restless mind until someone or something gave her a definite answer. Maybe that mouse knew something. It’s excited squeaking ensued when Sage spoke to it and chomped away at the food it had received whilst the man-bull returned to a section of the garden, his immense, rugged form sticking out distinctly against the delicate flowers that encircled him.

Silver slowly turned her head to watch as Midnight was replaced with Rhevens; inky black fur being traded for a mundane husk except this time it wasn’t just Silver as the audience. The minotaur had assumed a position close by to observe out of interest, it seemed. Her ears tilted forward in her own form of attentiveness at the mention of Rhevens being something other than a werewolf like she had originally suspected. Walker. Skinwalker. She wanted to complete the words for him but was almost glad she could say nothing being a wolf. Rhevens was a skinwalker; a cryptid that was a type of witch or healer in the Navajo culture. She’d remembered reading up on them at some point when supernatural creatures and controversial theories had piqued her interest as a teenager. She gazed to the minotaur appreciatively when a blanket was draped over Rhevens and then onto her even though she had her fur to keep her warm. It reminded her of how desperately the male had been to cover himself up when they’d first met.

How much time had passed since then? It felt like a vague range between a couple hours and a couple months off of how awful she’d felt when she’d awoken to laying on hard stone. For someone else, gaining all this knowledge of being surrounded by creatures that normally wouldn’t exist would normally have them screaming internally or feeling as if they’ve lost all touch with reality, but in Silver’s case she felt as if parts of her life were now beginning to piece together. Logic and calculation reigned until animalistic instinct snarled into existence even when she had been human. To her father, it was an obsession with animals, something to be disgusted by and abhorred but to her, she couldn’t help but feel at ease around them. Humans had never been favorable to her in the first place. The white wolf stared at Rhevens for a few heartbeats after his inquiry before she abruptly threw her blanket onto him, grumbling softly. She was relieved that he was okay but it’s not like she could nor wanted to show it. Instead, she turned her back to him and faced Sage and the mouse’s general direction, settling into another alert laying position as if to guard him.
 


Everything within her froze, then, and Winnie felt as if a sledgehammer had abruptly smashed the breath out of her lungs.

Kessler.

The mess of scattered pieces in her mind began to reassemble, shifting and rotating and aligning edges until they had constructed themselves into the image of a tall, musclebound man with a gruff face that belied an undeniable warmth in his eyes.

Kessler, who had confused 'cantrip' with 'catnip' and had brushed off her meek correction by asserting that he was a dog person.

Kessler, who had placed his hand atop her head and ruffled her hair with an awkward but earnest affection she hadn't felt in years.

Kessler, who had told her he was dying, but that he planned to fight it for as long as he possibly could.

Painful, stinging tears filled her eyes until they spilled over. Oh, God, Kessler. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I forgot you...

But why? Why had she forgotten? And why, still, could she not remember what mattered most—? The pieces she had had floating in her mind had locked back into place, but there were still too many missing altogether, great gaping chunks in the puzzle that left all answers opaque.

She was such a disgrace as a partner that she had forgotten his name, such a disgrace as a soul that she still could not remember killing him.

Winnie trembled violently, her frenzied mind torn between clutching Banks closer for comfort and shoving him far away for his own safety. She was not fit to be anything more than an animal locked in a cell, not fit to have her hand held as if it were something precious...

But why? Why could she not remember, no matter how she strained her feeble mind? She remembered flashes: a diner; a crowded bus; a quaint, suburban little street, a paean to the sort of cookie-cutter, blandly pleasant family she had never had the chance to experience for herself—

Ultimately, Winnie was too frightened, too selfish, to relinquish her grip on Banks, and so she continued to squeeze his hand as she cried out beyond the magicians who had come to retrieve her, desperately addressing Key: "I... I can't remember...! Why can't I remember? I don't know what happened—I—I can't—what did I do to him? Please—tell me—what did I do?" She began to tremble violently around the shoulders as bitter sobs wracked her form. "I know I'm a filthy, violent, disgraceful creature—I know I deserve this fate—so please, please tell me what happened to him... let the weight of my sins grind me into dirt."


winnie sawyer.

psychic vampire

 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Time Marches On | Current Timeline: ??? ​

Tags: Leif KodakWolf KodakWolf

Turid grinned wide and munched merrily on her bacon. His father chuckled and was working on his own plate, but carrying on a bit of conversation at the same time. "Take her along when you do some of the chores this morning, would you? She needs to start learning how to do some of them. Maybe she can help feeding the animals for a while first."

Turid looked excited and grinned with bright, bright eyes at Leif. "I like feeding the horses." Her legs were kicking air under the table, just swinging back and forth, leaving her wriggling in the chair almost constantly.

Soon as she was finished eating, Leif's father directed her to get ready for the day. "Go change your clothes, and you'll be helping your papa." And as soon as she was gone, he turned a serious face toward Leif. "Ma's not doing so well these days. I need you to take care of the chores outside for a while, son. Maybe tonight, you can spend some time with her? I know she'd love to see more of you."

“Sounds good.” he spoke at the suggestions of taking Turid along to do the daily chores. Damn, how long had it been since he’d last done those? It didn’t matter how much his mind struggled to remember, nothing came to mind when he thought about yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. It didn’t escape his notice either that, although it was obviously breakfast time, he had no plate of his own, and no one seemed to notice.

While some things definitely felt out of place, his daughter’s grin was as natural as the affectionate feeling it sparked within his heart.

“They do like you better.” he replied to her with a grin of his own. How could he say that? Well, wouldn’t be a hard guess, who wouldn’t?

After Turid left, and his father spoke words that brought both confusion and relief, Leif looked down at the wooden table for a moment, brows furrowed, before his head moved back up and his gaze scanned the room they were in, looking for anything strange, or maybe too familiar. He had no idea what had befallen his mother, though at least she was alive. Was she though, if that wasn’t real?

It wasn’t usual back in the day, but she, too, had died fighting. After Hjalkar had passed, she’d refused to sit in the farm and wait for death, and Leif never questioned her. They’d gotten to spend a good year together before she, too, was taken into the realms of the Gods. Realms he might never reach.

What’s going on with her? Was the question he wanted to ask. However, he’d bet an arm it’d either grant him a vague answer, or confuse his father. Disrupting the faint harmony that permeated the scene didn’t feel like the best course of action at the moment. He’d see her first, and keep an eye out until then.

“Of course.” he nodded at Hjalkar. “Let her know I’ll be there.” he pushed his chair away from the table, getting up to head to the front door to wait for Turid, not without shooting another glance at the surroundings on his way there.

The white wolf head was still on the wall, the one with the blue eyes. The bear rug was still on the floor, pictures on the mantle were updated, showing additional pictures of the last five years.

Turid came down the stairs, her smile ear to ear as she ran over to where Leif was waiting by the door. "Papa! I'm ready! Can I ride one of the horses after we do the chores? Please?"

He'd taken his time examining the new pictures on the wall, pictures of things he'd supposedly lived but had no memory of. The bear rug and the wolf head were still there. Still. Some of the few things that didn't seem to be unduly moving around lately. Though looking closer... wolves didn't have blue eyes.

"Say something, will you? Instead of just hanging there like some trophy." he mumbled, not really expecting an answer as he turned around towards the door. Though if the head did talk back, he wouldn't be all that surprised in that crazy context. He never did trophy hunting, why was that thing there to begin with?

His head whipped towards Turid's voice as she came downstairs, ready to go outside.

"Of course. I might even join you." he smiled back at her, placing an arm around her shoulder to lead her outside. She was getting tall.

As he turned to face the wooden door, though, he hesitated for a second. Another wooden door. Though nothing was banging against it on the other side. Looking through one of the windows, everything seemed normal, though an uneasy feeling was still in the air. Didn't matter all that much, though. And this time, Turid was with him as he reached forward to open it.

Leif opened the door, and a wind gush pushed him through the doorway, with the door slamming shut behind. He was back in the living room. Only things looked a little more run down. The bear rug had some threadbare patches on it. The wolf head with the blue eyes had dried blood at the base of its neck. Pictures on the mantle place were all turned face down, any mirrors were covered with tarps. The fireplace was cold, and there was the sound of quiet sobbing from the kitchen table.

His father sat there, face in his hands, older, worn down in both spirit and physicality. Turid came from another room, older, a teenager now at thirteen. Her hair long past her shoulders, nearly to her waist. She glanced toward Leif with a bit of a sad look, her dress black, her face in mourning. "Did you stay back to tell grandma goodbye? It was a nice ceremony."

coded by natasha.
 
Maddox Ward (Leif Hjalkarssen)
Location: Stop asking me that, I don't know
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words ​


Leif gasped for air as the new scene settled before his eyes, as it felt like he hadn't been breathing since he'd turned to face that door that should've led him and Turid outside to feed the horses. Not again. How long had it been this time? It almost looked like the place had been abandoned, were it not for the sobbing coming from the kitchen. He knew what'd happened, sort of an intuition, and followed the sound after swallowing down his own apprehension.

The sight of his father sitting at the table was the first scene his eyes met. Hjalkar wasn't the same. As if one with the house, he hadn't aged only physically. It was when Turid walked in, though, that Leif was able to vaguely estimate how long had passed, not that it mattered. Had her mother still been alive, she'd be as tall as her. And she looked more like her than ever, too. After she spoke, Leif shook his head and rubbed his temple, as if trying to dissipate the fog that kept most memories (or the truth, in case there were really no memories of the past years to be remembered) just out of reach.

Hers was one question he just couldn't answer naturally, and he wasn't about to make up a false memory just to give her an acceptable reply. Another glance at his father, however, stopped him from saying anything in front of the man. Whether he was actually there, or was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he looked painfully real, and Leif would spare him the words his tongue urged to speak. His eyes moved down, away from Turid, and he gave a few steps back before turning on his heels and heading back into the living room, not without beckoning her over, lips pursed and mind racing for answers, although apparently in circles. So much for that faint harmony.

"I don't know." he spoke once they were out of earshot, his tone quiet, not looking at her directly. He didn't want to say those words, his heart wanted to keep playing house, and he probably would have, if the game hadn't gotten so bizarre. "Did I stay back to tell her goodbye? You tell me. I don't even know what happened to her." he shot her a quick glance, before his eyes beheld the living room once again. His tone was almost a plead. Again, he felt the knot forming in his throat, though this time there were no tears. Would his words shatter the illusion? Or transport him another several years into the 'future' that never was? Or maybe just make his daughter think he went insane? Whatever happened wouldn't change the fact that he couldn't just play along that anymore.

Leif didn't stand still as he waited for her to answer, and moved forward towards the fireplace mantel in order to uncover what those pictures facing down hid. Before his hand reached them, though, he caught a glimpse of what seemed like blood on the neck of the blue eyed wolf out of the corner of his eye, and his gaze whipped up to focus on it. All at once, his mind was flooded by more vivid recollections that had been inaccessible until then: the dilapidated stone church, free of hungry undead; a long road trip; a hotel room; the ranch, the barbecue... they confirmed he wasn't wrong. Those blue eyes didn't belong to a wolf, and it was almost as if he could smell that blood, even though what stained the white fur was dry and old. How many of those memories were actually real, though? And everything he remembered about Maylee, that whole story so badly portrayed in the children's book, how much of it was real?

If Turid had said anything, he hadn't listened. Or better, hadn't processed, and she'd need to repeat it as he finally reached forward to flip the pictures. If they didn't send him into another black hole, and if no one stopped him, the mirrors would be next.
 
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A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Coma-tastic | Current Timeline: May 16th​

Tags: Evelyn Maeteris Maeteris

The sounds continued, though the voices had grown quiet. As if she was in a hospital room after hours, sounds were quiet, muted, strangely almost serene. There were times when it felt like Evelyn could just relax and drift away again. It felt like a choice she had.

Time did start to blur, until reality seemed to snap back into place when sounds increased. There were more footsteps, and the sound of instruments being setup. The voices were back, different from before. "This the collection table?" Male, a little bored.

"Yeah, just move him onto that." Male from before, tone sounds like they wished they were doing something else.

"No mattress?" A bit of a chuckle.

"No, can't use one with that table. It's comfortable enough, with the mask on he won't wake up." Tone was impatient, irritated at being questioned.

"Okay." There was a small clash of metal on metal.

"Watch it!" The one who was irritated, was not even more irritated. "Those are hard to replace. Just.. move away. We'll take it from here."

Footsteps receded leaving the voices from before as someone was moved about. A new machine started whirring and beeping quietly. "Uh.. hey. Did we have something in those crates?"

A moment's silence, then the other male responded, "Uh.. maybe? I'll see if I can find the logs." Footsteps neared her table, a filing cabinet drawer opened, metal on metal again. Sounds of folders being rummaged through.

And somewhere, soft and quiet, more in her head than in her ear, a tinkling, melodic voice, "Pretend to sleep, your ruse you must keep. When others wake, your escape you can make."

coded by natasha.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Alyce Wright

Tags: Coda Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Hayley Britt-21 Britt-21 | Location: Coven HQ ​


Alyce did little spins now and then as she led the way to the room for the oath bonding. "So, I think they gave you a room near mine, if not, well, we'll have to fix that." She grinned at Coda in one of her many little circle spins. She apparently liked to have her dress flow and move with the air based on how she twirled.

"And once we do the binding, and the relocating, we can show you two around! Phoenix.." Alyce looked over a shoulder to Hayley, "Have they given you any assignments yet? I need to know what I'm working with. Some things might benefit you more than others on a little tour."

Before Hayley had a chance to answer, they were standing in front of two wooden doors. "I know, wood, right? But I wanted to shake things up a little." A small shoulder shrug, then with a wave of her right hand, the doors opened and she waltzed inside. Literally, a waltz of one.

Inside, the room was much larger than it realistically should be. It was a lush landscape, something one would expect to see in Japan. "I saw this place a long time ago, and I had to have it here." She spun around with a giggle, "Isn't it just grand?"

She darted forward, over the green covered steps, through majestic archways, almost as if to see if the others could keep up with her or not. Alyce put on a good bit of speed, laughing, as she headed to the middle of it all. Middle of the archways, the paths of steps, and trees every which way one could turn.

"This is a place of power. This.. we'll have the bonding here. Are you ready?"
coded by natasha.
 
Evelyn Harper



The monotone hum of machinery and beeps placated the numbing hum of headache, a salve on her nerves, almost enough to lull her asleep. The seething anger kept her awake, prickling her consciousness alert. It would be easy to forget it all and let fate decide where she'd go. But damn fate, vehklass it even. A Scuris aelf will not let this slight go unpunished.

All her fingers worked, she tested them--balling into fists and uncurling. That's when the voices returned, and she lay quiet and unmoving. She recognized one of the male voices, they were speaking of bringing someone else into the room. Whether that would be in her favor or not, remained to be seen.

She composed herself, anger breeding in her gut, the temptation to spring up and grab the nearest object with a pointy end and jab them into the mortals repeatedly was enticing but ultimately futile in a grander sense. A voice called into her ear, a slight shiver ran down her spine from hearing the disembodied voice. A playful tone, speaking in a riddle. Fairylike.

It neednt tell her twice.

She forced herself to relax. A viper will coil back before a strike, just as a Scuris would retreat before a counter attack.

I can riddle too, little fairy. She imagined herself snorting at the internal dialogue she made for herself. Quite odd for her to be hearing voices. Must've been an after effect of the drugs they'd pump her with. Must be powerful for her own deeper consciousness to appear as it's own voice and being.


location: Houston • tags • mood • Outfit • interactions
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Razial Hale

Tags: Maylee Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees | Location: Coven HQ​


"Getting dressed by magic is always more fun." Razial gave Maylee a sly little smirk. "As for how you work the magic, well.." His right hand lifted and flipped to be palm up. "Most magic requires physical motions to activate it, to call it forth so to speak." He did some complex finger motions and a little red flame appeared over his fingers.

"The bigger the spell, the harder it is without group casting." The flame went away and he focused on Maylee again. "We can help with that, but first, you need to..." Shoulders moved a bit, both hands lifted, palms upward. "Get in touch with yourself." Eyebrows raised and the grin was wide. Hands back on his knee, he studied her for a moment or two.

"There are a number of ways to do this. You can meditate." Finger and thumb touched on either hand, he closed his eyes, murmured, "Ooooh. Uuummmm. Ooooh... U..." Razial shook his head and relaxed again. "Not really much for that myself. But.. You can try it."

Fingers touched up his hair. "Another way would be deep diving into your darkest desires or pains. Magic comes from pain, they say. Find the pain, you'll find sparkles of your magic." A small nonchalant shrug. "Once you feel it, you'll know. And knowing is half the battle." The last was in a sing song voice before he gave her a wave of one hand. "Go on, try something. We've got time."

"Focus on just finding it inside you, getting to know how it feels, and then you can start bending it to your will. Or whimsy. Or both." A bit of a laugh.
coded by natasha.
 


Magic comes from pain.

Maylee spread her palms out in front of her and frowned as she studied them, each groove, every little scar. Was that true? The way Razial spoke of it, it was as if it were a well-known, oft-repeated adage, but this was the first she had ever heard of it. Magic and pain, an irreconcilable pair of siblings.

There was, she supposed, some truth to it: if she closed her eyes, Maylee could recall the agony of her first transformation, the earth-shattering fear as the cursed wolf's magic filled her body that she would rupture at the seams, too small and weak a vessel for it. Was pain really the way to becoming stronger?

She took in a breath through her teeth, clenched and unclenched her fists, and let her eyelids create a cocoon of darkness around her vision. She had met pain, of course, many times; too many to count. There were times, she thought, she ought not to have survived, and she tried to imagine, now, if she never healed—if she hadn't saved a few of those precious healing potions for the roughest hunts—what sort of shambling monstrosity she would look like, more wound than woman. It was magic, then, that had taken away her pain, but not her own; was Razial saying, more specifically, that her magic came from pain?

And what about the inside, then? Of all the ugly wounds she had sustained chasing monsters for a pitiful taste of feeling like a hero, none could compare to the wreckage that lay beneath her skin. It was grotesque, shameful; every time she spoke to someone, she felt its tide rising within her, and she fought desperately to swim faster than it, to reach some kind of shore before it could overtake her and fill her lungs with water—

A shudder ran through her, and when she opened her eyes, she was no longer standing in a dream-world of an obstacle course, no longer trapped beneath Razial's stare; instead, she found herself waist-deep in an eerily familiar pool of water that extended as far as the fog-shrouded horizon on all sides. In front of her, a little girl stood atop the water, her feet floating just out of reach of its surface. A flouncy white sundress fell to her knees; a twee little ribbon was tied to each end of her pigtails.

"Mama," she said, and Maylee flinched.

"I'm not your mother," she said sharply, and the little girl tilted her head to the side, her dark eyes wide with curiosity.

"Oh? But you look like her." And then, to demonstrate her point, she grabbed her pigtails and bunched them up behind her head, concealing their length and creating an illusion of a close-cropped bob of hair.

Maylee bristled, and then the girl let out a cheerful, musical laugh. "Don't worry," she said, "I know who you are, Maylee."

Hearing her name spoken in her own voice, albeit a younger version of it, was unnerving. Maylee narrowed her eyes cautiously at the girl, the memory given flesh. "Who are you?"

The girl's head tilted to the opposite side. "You really can't recognize yourself? It wasn't that long ago. Well, that's okay. What's important is that we're here to unlock your magic. It's hiding, now, but we're going to draw it out, right? Like a game of hide-and-seek."

Without warning, then, the water around her swept up and over her head in a colossal wave; Maylee gasped a moment too late, flooding her lungs with water and leaving her spasming and sputtering for air when she was spit out onto solid ground moments later.

Dizzily, she struggled to her feet and opened her eyes, and she found herself standing amid a forest of blackened, floating trees, their roots stretched out beneath them like claws entangled in combat.

"It's got to be hiding behind one of these trees," her younger self's voice echoed, bouncing from every branch in a way that made discerning its location impossible. "But which one?"

Disoriented, Maylee looked wildly around the forest; in all directions, an identical formation of trees stretched out as far as the eye could see, and so she began stumbling blindly forward, her hands swiping to push away the gnarled ends of branches that scraped her as she passed.

She rounded the trunk of a large, thick tree and then skidded short, a wave of nausea and horror seizing her at the sight of what awaited her on its other side.

Dad and Papa lay in misshapen heaps on the ground, their hands outstretched towards each other, just short of touching. The blood that caked and distorted their once-familiar features was dripping, too, from the jaws of her brother, who stood uncannily still as a younger version of herself tried impotently to rouse her parents from their final slumber.

"Stop it," Maylee cried out, jerking backward and raising her arms to shield her unwilling eyes. "Why are you showing me this? I don't—I don't want to see this—!"

"They left you," the girl sitting beside the two irretrievable corpses murmured. "They left you alone in a world that wanted to hurt you."

"No," Maylee said, shaking her head, "it was my fault. I let them die—I was too weak to save them—"

"Have you considered that, maybe, they were too weak to stay?" Despite the blood coating her hands, the girl spoke in a placid, mellow tone. "Or, rather, that their love was too weak. They didn't love you enough to stay. If they did, they would have fought harder."

"No—"

"Magic comes from pain," the girl sitting in Dad and Papa's blood said, and with a vehement shake of her head, Maylee sprinted blindly past her, her breath beating in her chest as she sought desperately to put the horrid scene behind her.

She yelped in surprise when, upon opening her eyes, she nearly collided with the trunk of another tree; swerving unsteadily past it, Maylee came upon another familiar scene. She saw herself, looking much the same as she did now save for the presence of her braids snaking down her back; she wore a dark tank top, but it was being hungrily peeled from her skin by a pair of strong, needful hands. On a bed in the middle of the forest, she lay entwined with a boy, his dark hair spilling over a face pulled tight in intensity as he loved her with a fervor that approached violence.

Maylee felt her knees begin to tremble. "Cillian," she called out, hoarse and painful.

Cillian's head dipped down to devour the neck of the other vision of herself, and the copy turned her head to aim a piercing stare at her, the voyeur. "You should have expected it wouldn't last. Being loved. When has it ever, for you?"

"Stop it," Maylee shouted in anguish, digging her fingers into her hair in an attempt to relieve the pressure pounding in her skull. "Stop it, please, enough—don't show me any more—"

"You thought he was going to save you," the girl on the bed said with a hint of scorn, of pity. "Of course, in the end, he was a disappointment, just like everyone else."

"Shut UP," she bellowed, sobs catching in her throat. "Don't talk about him like that—!"

Again, Maylee took off and ran with no direction other than away, and the girl called after her with a final reminder that rang in her ears: "Magic comes from pain."

She ran and ran and ran, her heart pounding violently behind her eyes, stinging tears flinging themselves from her cheeks and scattering among the dark tangle of branches she passed. I don't want this. I don't want this. Please, I don't want to see any more—

This time, she collided with something cold and hard and inexorable, and when Maylee wheeled dizzily back, lost her footing and scraped her palms trying to catch herself on the dirt, she saw not a tree but her mother hovering over her, dread stretching her out to an impossible height.

A knife was clutched in her outstretched hand.

"But really," the youngest version of herself spoke, once again an echo of unclear origin, "it all started with her, didn't it? If she had loved you right, maybe the rest wouldn't have happened."

Maylee trembled, her hands clenched; fingers scraped in the dirt that she watered with bitter tears. Enough. Please. That's enough.

"What if you could see her again, just one more time? What would you say to her? What would you do to her to repay her for everything she never gave you?"

"She's gone," Maylee wept, her fingers clenching into dirt-streaked fists. "What's the point? She's gone. I'll never—"

"Magic comes from pain," the girl said firmly, cutting off her meek protestations. "Do you want to keep hurting, forever and ever and ever? Or do you want the chance to make someone else hurt for once?"

"That's not what I'm fighting for." Maylee's voice quivered with her tears, but the fierceness of her devotion hummed low and reassuring in her throat, a tiny flicker of hope amid this disorienting nightmare. "I don't want to get stronger just so I can hurt someone. I need to get stronger for my friends—for Leif—"

The air seemed to snap around her, then, as if the atmosphere had constricted to a pinprick; in the emptiness that followed, the only sound she could make out was her own heartbeat.

"And what do you think Leif wants?"

A new scene took shape around her, watery swathes appearing and blending together as if applied by an invisible, cosmic paintbrush, and all at once she was standing in the middle of an old, rustic bedroom, a flicker of candlelight centered around a bed in which a little girl lay.

No sundress, no braids; this little girl was fair and blonde and unfamiliar altogether, and Leif sat by the edge of her bed, his fingers in her hair and a rapt smile on his face.

"He doesn't look like he's waiting for you to save him." The sinister voice traced through the room like an errant wind. "How does he look, Maylee?"

Her throat had gone dry; her tongue scraped the sandpaper roof of her mouth when she feebly answered: "Happy."

"Happier than he's ever been with you. You see, Maylee? Leif doesn't need you. He's better off without you."

No. No, that wasn't fair—she didn't know where Leif was, didn't know the little girl resting beside him; how could she possibly make a judgment on whether or not he was happy?

And yet, that spell of joy in his eyes, such an unfamiliar sight to her own, was achingly telling.

"Leif," she called out, desperately grasping at something, anything she could do to convince herself that she was worth something to someone.

"Everyone is, actually. Do you understand now? Everyone is happier without you, Maylee. Everyone is better off. You know it, too, deep down: nobody needs you."

"Leif!" She lurched forward, but for as much distance as she covered, Leif and the girl and the bed drew farther back; reeling, Maylee shouted with climbing urgency: "Leif, please! Please look at me, just for a minute—"

There was a book now clasped in his hands, his lips moving in silent somnolence: a bedtime story only for the little blonde girl's ears. He did not look up even once.

"I said LOOK AT ME—"

It erupted from her, as if the pin of a grenade had been pulled from between her teeth; in the next moment, everything in the room was obliterated in a horrid and dazzling display of fiery red light. Fragments of wood from splintered furniture and feathers from an eviscerated pillow danced in the darkness that crept in from beyond the shattered framework of the makeshift world, and even as he was cut into pieces, Leif did not turn to look at her.

She was falling, falling into the darkness she had unveiled; a scream of anguish and fear gripped her, and then all at once the ground came rushing up to meet her as she fell hard onto her knees in front of Razial, and the hands that she pressed over her stinging eyes lit up with a starry red pox.

Magic and pain, an irreconcilable pair of siblings, tore through her body.

( Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words )​

maylee song.

hunter | werewolf

 
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There was something uncanny to Alyce's movements, a dancerly cadence that gave him the impression she was under the spell of a song only she could hear. Coda found himself studying every inch of her that he could: the drape of her hair as it floated in tandem with her dress, the curve of her neck, the curious, doll-like stare of her unblinking eyes. Everything about her seemed plucked from another world altogether, a world with more magic and starlight and brimming with spirits, and unceremoniously dumped into theirs, which seemed dull and pallid in comparison.

And then, as if she had been reading his thoughts. Alyce led them to a set of large wooden doors and guided them through to a verdant, vibrant world that seemed detached entirely from the one they had just departed.

It wasn't the geography itself that confounded him—tall, sentry-like trees and stolid stone arches were sights well within the possibility of the world he knew—but its placement. There was no way a forest such as this just happened to exist naturally within the confines of the stone tunnels they had been traversing—so how had she done it? Was the whole place itself magicked, every blade of grass and limb of tree a product of her own enchanted hands? Or had she simply fashioned a portal beyond those heavy wooden doors, transporting them far, far away?

What exactly are you capable of, Alyce?

He narrowed his eyes at her back as she weaved delicately between trees, searching his mind again for any sort of explanation that made sense. If she were capable of such staggering feats of magic, what did she need protection for? And why him? Key had said that she had requested him specifically. Why? It wasn't as if he wasn't going to take his job as guard seriously—if it was his means to seizing power, he would do it with every ounce of will in his body—but an uncomfortable, sinister suspicion had begun to snake around the back of his mind. Was this all some sort of trick? Were they mocking him, launching him into a task well beyond what his own powers allowed for?

He gritted his teeth. Always, everywhere, someone was making fun of him, devaluing his very existence. Was this no different?

If that's what they think, I'll prove them wrong. I'll show them all to laugh at me.

As he was watching Alyce's sprightly form darting in and out of the trees beyond him and Haley, something strange happened; Coda blinked, and all at once the trees peering down at him felt eerie in their familiarity. It was in a forest like this—not so big, and not quite so starkly green, but a forest nonetheless—that they used to play hide and seek, wasn't it?

And then, for a split second, the figure dancing through the trees changed—she was smaller, her hair darker, a pair of pigtails sailing out behind her in rhythm with her bouncy run.

Hey, no fair! You're not supposed to peek,⠀ .̎̂҉̬̤̘.ͥͮ̓.̖ͮ̓.͗ͨ̐.͌̂̎ —

He blinked again, and in the split second of darkness, his sister had disappeared; again, Alyce was twirling and capering about up ahead, beckoning him and Hayley closer.

Coda scowled, clenched his hands into determined fists, and strode briskly up to meet her. Whatever awaited him in this forest, there was power, there, and he did not intend to miss it by wasting time chasing ghosts. Let his old life and everything in it burn—he had never belonged there, anyway.

"All my life, I've been ready," he said fiercely.


coda.

half-demon

 
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A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Sage

Tags Silver- Silver- | Location: Gardens ​


Time passed, with Sage staying busy as he made the rock move under his requests. Bit by bit, a small alcove grew to the size of a room, part of it out of their line of sight. After an hour though, he seemed satisfied, and came back into the garden area with a wide, goofy grin.

"Almost ready! Sage think you like. Keep you safe, while Sage figure out way to help more. Need.. need.." The minotaur looked around, then found a small, spherical object from a shelf over one of the flower troughs. He held it so the wolves and mouse could see it. "This hold magic. Plants help feed it. And it will help you now."

He took it into the room, disappearing from sight for another five minutes. Then it was a bit of harried activity. The minotaur would return, dig around in some of the storage crates pushed to one side. Find something and take it into the room he made. There were blankets, and cushions that needed repair but were still cushion-y. A few of his plants, one wooden crate full of clothing, and a small ball of light.

When he came back, Sage listened at the door, before moving to pick up all of the rune stones. "Okay, you good to move? Need Sage to carry? Need in other room, you safe there. No one know of room. No one know to come see. Little mouse mouse, you come too."

Rhevens kept the blanket around himself, and he tried to get up, but there wasn't any way he could walk on his own. Sage picked up him carefully, but like he weighed nothing, and put him into the room just made. Blankets were spread out atop the cushions, the magic ball of light was tucked away in one corner, and the scent of fresh air came from that spherical object he had placed on a shelf molded out of one wall.

Sage had made them their own little safe room. "You too pretty to waste away. Sage save. Sage get you out of here, set free soon, just need time to.. think on how to do."

coded by natasha.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Griffin Banks

Tags: Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Rhyme Rhyme Britt-21 Britt-21 | Location: Winnie's Cell ​


When the magic washed over Banks and Winnie, cleaning up the mess on them and the cell, something happened. Banks' amber hued eyes had a bright spike of a glow, one that could have lit up the confines of the cell. His hand remained curled around Winnie, and his right stump moved toward the coven member. And for a moment, Winnie could see the outline of his right limb. It glowed with the same light of his eyes, and lashed out, snagging the coven member's ankle as solid as his right hand might have been before being eaten by a half demon.

The cell was filled with screaming, Banks' and the coven member. The one who stayed farther back, quickly shut the cell door, leaving the one member inside, before retreating out of the small room. Key and Wendy actually moved a step closer, still a fair distance from the cell itself, but they were watching with rapt fascination.

The coven member's hood fell off, revealing a face etched in horror and abject agony. Like something out of Raiders of the Lost Ark, the man started to shrivel beneath their eyes. Cheeks becamse sunken, eyes rolled back in his head, skin turned white, then ashen grey, and he screamed and screamed. Until he didn't.

As even Banks' scream ebbed away, the coven member's body collapsed, folded in on itself as the body crumbled into nothing more than powder. A small dust cloud filled the air, drawing the attention of those peering into the cell.

What they didn't see, was a sudden surge of energy being fed to Winnie through the connection of Banks' hand around her wrist. Banks had obviously done something to the coven member, drained something, but what he was feeding to Winnie was pure life force.

His eyes hadn't moved away from her once.

coded by natasha.
 
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Hayley.png
1598486991829.png
Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees | Location: Camp Coven

Hayley took the situation fairly seriously, but Alyce had been treating it as if it was a game. There was something lackluster that she couldn't put her finger on. Should she take it as seriously as she should? She didn't know. While the trio walked, it seemed that Coda wanted to be in the middle, so she let him be. Using her ears instead for now while keeping up with them. As soon as she heard Alyce, she glanced at her, shaking her head a little and about to reply to her. Only to be stopped in front of wooden doors that opened up to an Asian-like scenery. Ones that you'd usually see in magazines or even finding them on google. The mage stepped inside, feeling like she had just gone through a portal into another continent. Taking a look behind her, the doors were still open but looked so out of place just because of the very obvious differences between the rooms. Before she could stare for too long, she looked back ahead, continuing to follow her 'teacher' up the mossy stairs, her walk practically flawless as she ascended up the stairs. Taking in some of the view and enjoying it for her own eyes.

I miss home. Where I could go into the forest whenever I felt like it. Now I cant do that at all, really. she thought to herself. Coda had replied to Alyce, which had given her a moment to speak, and thus she had "I have no new assignments. I made it specifically clear that I am to not be inconvenienced today due to the Shadow. I did plan to pick some up on my way out." she confirmed for the blonde, still trying to remain on her good side. She really didn't want to talk more than she should, though the bonding process had her fairly curious.​
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Out Of Words

Time Is On My Side Yes It Is | Current Timeline: ??? ​

Tags: Leif KodakWolf KodakWolf

Turid's voice was quiet with sadness, "She was sick, Papa. Are you okay?" The question started to fade, to ebb away as if carried downstream as Leif turned over a picture. And suddenly, the world shifted around him.

He stood there with the picture held in his hand, while his father and Turid were suddenly on fast forward. Father finally got up from the kitchen table and hugged Turid, then they split off, going to their own rooms. Then the next day came, with them coming out of their rooms, having breakfast at the table, then going about their daily chores.

Even if Leif tried to let the picture go, he couldn't, it was stuck in his grasp as surely as he was now stuck watching the world around him continue forward. It moved faster and faster, where he couldn't even make out details of their faces. They were sticks of color, shifting about around him as they came and left, only to return and leave again and again.

After a minute of this extreme fast forward, the world suddenly returned to a normal speed. Turid looked older by a year or two, and his father barely moved from the chair in front of the fireplace any more. When the world slowed back down, the sound rushed in as well, and yet Leif was paralyzed by the fireplace, unable to let the picture go, unable to say anything much less do anything.

"Poppy, Stephen is coming over later to help. So you can rest, I'll have lunch made for you soon, okay?" Then Turid moved to the fireplace where Leif stood. She stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek, a kiss he could feel, but was unable to react to. "Love you, Papa. Be nice to Stephen, okay?" And she fluttered away, quickly making food in the kitchen.

The fast forward was back, but only for a second, if that long. And now she was at the kitchen table with a young man, probably four or five years older than she was. He had dark brown hair, and looked like he did his best to dress up in a brown coat, slacks, and a vest to match. He had a deep voice, and they were huddled with their heads together, laughing softly. He laid a hand over Turid's and squeezed, while his father was still in the chair, staring into the fireplace.

Fast forward again, longer this time, another year went by in the blink of an eye. Leif remained at the fireplace, frozen unlike the world around him. His father was no longer in the chair, and the time dance slowed to normal as Turid and Stephen came in from the front door. They were both dressed in black, and Turid was sobbing into Stephen's chest when he pulled her around for a comforting hug. She briefly split apart to run to Leif and hug him, burying her face into his chest. "Papa!"

It felt as if he was hugging her back, but he couldn't be sure. It was too quick, the fast forward surged again, briefly, stopping with Turid standing before Stephen, one hand held in his as she smiled the happiest smile toward Leif. "Papa! We're getting married!" And then Leif moved. Not that he moved on his own, but rather, he was transported with another blurring of time.

They now stood in a barn, with other members presumably from the community. Turid was dressed in a white dress, something his mother likely wore on her wedding day. Stephen was in a suit, and a minister stood between them, already saying, "Husband and wife." The crowd gathered cheered, and the two kissed before moving down the aisle. Turid did stop near Leif and gave him a hug and kiss to the cheek, her own wet with tears. Or was that Leif's cheek that was wet? "I love you, Papa. We'll stop over for dinner soon, okay?"

Time blurred, things fast forwarded, and Leif was back in his family home, standing by the fireplace with a picture frame held in his hand. Colors slowed back down, and Turid and Stephen were there, standing in front of him. One of her hands rubbed her belly, she was pregnant and glowing with happiness. "Oh Papa, it'll be any day now! Aren't you excited? You'll be a grandfather!" Stephen chuckled, but it did look like he was taking excellent care of Turid.

Another skip forward, the blurring was faster and faster each time, the abruptness of the snap back grew more and more harsh. Turid was there, watching a little girl and boy play together. The boy was older by a year, and appeared to be about four, the girl, three. Stephen was closer to Leif, talking, but the words couldn't be understood, as if caught or masked in the fast forwarding effect, as the scene only lasted a moment.

The two children were older now, nine and ten years old. The boy looking a lot like Turid, the girl more so. Only Turid was there, and the children had been dressed in black and crying. Stephen was talking, but there wasn't any sound, just the mouth moving as all three faced Leif. And then the world as Leif knew it continued to change in small bursts of clarity, with longer moments of the fast forwarding of time.

Leif seemed to be somehow attached to the girl, the moments that slowed down focused on her. She grew up, met someone else, got married, had a child. Rinse and repeat. Leif followed his bloodline through the years, decades, lifetimes passed him by. Yet gave him glimpses of each daughter. Generation after generation, they grew, lived their lives, shared it with someone, and had a daughter. Sometimes a daughter and a son, but always, always a daughter.

No matter where they went in the world, Leif was a silent observer on the sidelines. They never interacted with him, not since Turid, and it appeared as if they never saw him. Never knew he was there, watching his bloodline thriving without him. The world turned modern, technology invaded their lives, with iPads, phones, and so much more, but still he followed the daughters. Until time slowed down once more.

One of his lineage had given birth, the new daughter was wailing and crying in protest of being yanked from its safe and warm womb. The man and woman gave it a kiss on the head, before the mother told the nurse the name they had picked out for their daughter.

"Yan. Yan Song."

coded by natasha.
 


Winnie could not help but flinch when the wave of magic washed the gore and vomit from her skin and clothes—a magic touch was still a touch, and the unnerving invisibility of it perhaps made it all the more distressing to stomach. At least, when unwanted hands explored her skin, she knew where the touch was coming from.

Better to be hurt by something, someone, she knew.

She shuddered, and then, trying to clear her thoughts, she looked over to Banks, who was still tightly clenching her hand; the magic had washed the mess from him, too, and he looked in many ways the same as he had before the catastrophe: close-cropped hair, a scruffy face, a square jaw. The differences, of course, were unmissable: an ashen pallor had overtaken his skin, as if it had been dusted with some sort of gray powder, and his eyes now shone an unnatural amber instead of the easygoing blue they had previously been. Naturally, though, the greatest difference of all was the truncated lump of smoothed-out flesh where his arm had once continued, and so what happened next was all the more wrong—

Winnie let out a startled yelp at the glowing phantom limb that extended suddenly from Banks's stump; she herself had felt the yearning ache of a once-there limb shared by many an amputee, but never had her phantom pains taken a proper form, if a spectral one.

And never, ever had her phantom pains lashed out in attack.

Winnie cried out in fear, but her tiny voice was easily drowned out by Banks's beastly roaring and the coven member's shrieks of torment; once again, she was frozen helplessly still as a life was violently severed in front of her eyes. This time, though, was not swift—there was no smash of brain and bone matter like the hapless limousine driver; instead, the coven member was slowly drained of everything within him, his flesh and muscle and eventually bone peeling away into nothing more than dust.

Oh, God, is that what I did to Kessler? Oh, God, have mercy—

This time, she avoided the empathy connection by burying her face in Banks's sleeve—coward, she rebuked herself—and then, when the screaming died down, a wave of relief flushed through her, so potent that she felt more together than she had since as far back as her memory stretched.

No—no, something wasn't right; this was not mere relief. Winnie drew back from Banks's arm, bewildered by the tingling, invigorating pins and needles sweeping her body, and then she glimpsed Banks's hand, still clutching her by the wrist, and the dots connected in her brain.

Oh no—how did he—why did he—?

"Banks!" she cried out, clutching his wrist with her free hand. "Why did you—? No, no, Banks, you don't have to do that—!"

Winnie left her words intentionally vague; she was not sure if the others could tell about the exchange of energy that had sparked between them, and she did not want to speak of it for fear it might get Banks in trouble.

Stricken with terror and a sensation of life surging through her that she knew was unearned, undeserved, Winnie wrapped her two arms around Banks's one and clung to it like a child. "Please, Banks, please don't do that again..."


winnie sawyer.

psychic vampire

 
Roje.png
231e5ab81c3c11fbdf42dd91df769a49.gif

Tags: Out Of Words Out Of Words Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Rhyme Rhyme | Location: Fuck you.

Roje's words had clearly went unheard. Winnie reacting exactly probably how Key had hoped. Pushing herself off from the wall, she drew a deep breath and let out a short and breathy laugh, shaking her head. We aren't going to get out of here if we feed into what and how they want us to act. They're forcing reactions, and I very well don't enjoy that. Even after telling Winnie not to ask things, she still proceeded to. As if that dick would give her the answers she was looking for. The vampire remained quiet and continued to use her hearing on the situation, her eyebrows closing the gap between them, only to met with a scream that caused her to shake her head slightly from the sudden loud noise. There was two people screaming, one too many for her liking but there was nothing she could do about that but obviously listen. Indy had been quiet, but it was probably for the best. It kept attention off her and more on the situation going on in Winnie's cell. Just keep staying quiet, Indy, it's safer for you that way. it was clear that she was taking this sister role very seriously now. Roje already liked her from breakfast, so there was already a bond created regardless of just finding out they were related by blood.

Soon the screaming stopped, the sound of another heartbeat going out. Who the hell died now? before she could even ask aloud, she heard Winnie speaking to Banks, so clearly those two were still alive. But something else happened that she couldn't look at with her own eyes. Ppllleeeaaasseee tell me it was Key who kicked the bucket. she was holding her hopes too high. Turning her back to the wall she had been leaning on before, she let her body drop back slightly, leaning up against it with her back and a foot on the wall while her other foot kept her up. She crossed her arms, cogs in her mind rotating. Apparently Banks had done something that Winnie didn't approve of... Was he the cause of the one less heartbeat in the room? No way. No magic could be used, they cant break out... Something was wrong here.​
 
Edwin Blut
Location: Is this the real life, or is this just fantasy?
Tags: None​
Edwin walked alongside the bear, feeling it's sadness. Sadness from the loss of it's loved ones a second time, but also from the understanding that it never got them back, and the slightest tinge of sadness from knowing that it nearly lost more in its obsession with the past.

"It's okay." Edwin said. "We all make mistakes. We're just trying our best." The bear gave only a light growl in response, but Edwin felt the meaning.

As they walked, Edwin recognized the strangeness of the out of body experience. Feeling was delayed, sound was muffled, and his vision was limited to what the bear could see. Because of his newness to this way of experiencing, it took him a moment to realize that everything had gone away. Only himself and the bear were visible through the darkness.

But something was wrong. The bear wasn't right. It was bent, crushed, warped. Wrong. It wasn't bear shaped.

It was human shaped.

Edwin finally understood what he was seeing. The bear was in his body. Was this what the bear saw when Edwin was in the bear's body?

The bear was visibly struggling within the body, unable to get the unfamiliar muscles to bend. Or perhaps, the body was trapped. Feelings of cuffs slowly bled through to Edwin. And voices began to speak through the thick muffling. Anger, fear, annoyance. Edwin couldn't make out the words, but the feeling was clear.

The bear struggled against the bonds, and the unfamiliar body. Tried to work the unfamiliar jaw, tried to form the unfamiliar words the humans spoke. In all, it managed only a weak growl and some slight shaking and rolling of its shoulders.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Wendy Sawyer

Tags: Winnie Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Britt-21 Britt-21 Rhyme Rhyme | Location: Coven HQ ​


Key was the one to talk next. "Change of plans. These two stay here, we'll move the others." Wendy watched with the same near rapt fascination at what happened in Winnie's cell. Key was already summoning a few more coven members and giving them directions. "That one.." He gestured toward Indigo, "She has to sign the contract, secure her and move her to the Blue Lounge. Do not leave her unattended."

Key was focused on Banks, even Wendy couldn't help but ask, "Whatever did you create, sister dear?" She sank into a crouch, carefully positioning her outfit around her knees in the process. Wendy was peering closely at Banks, and Winnie. "What... did it do? Hmm?"

Key called the coven member on the outside of Winnie's cell over, murmuring quietly. "... sample... now." The member nodded his head, and left the room. Meanwhile, he helped Wendy stand up, and turned to address her fully. "Will you please see to Indigo's transportation? Keep her company until I can join you."

Wendy was reluctant, but nodded, "Of course, dear." And then she placed a light kiss on Key's cheek before moving out of the room and watching as the other members moved to Indigo's cell. Two of them were holding spells at the ready, while another was preparing to unseal the cell door. "Oh, you'll need clothing. One moment."

It was Wendy's turn then to do some spell work. Her hands moved around each other in front of her chest, fingers parting and crossing over and under other fingers. It took a couple of minutes, and her eyes took on a white glow for the duration. When it was done, a small piece of indigo blue colored cloth was held out for one of the guards to take. "Hand that to her before you open the cell. Let her get dressed." And then addressing Indy direction, "Just.. hold it against part of your body and it'll do the rest."

coded by natasha.
 

Indy listened in growing horror as the sickening squelching of morphing skin grew in volume alongside Roje's voice. Even she seemed to know Bank's was transforming into something...different. Not typical, as typical as a vampire could be. Indy shouted her encouragement alongside Roje's directions, her hands clutching the bars as she desperately tried to listen for any sign of Winnie as Bank's body continued to gurgle and snap with the force of his transformation. Finally, she heard Winnie's voice--saying exactly the opposite of what Indy desperately wanted her to say.

Of course Winnie would be reluctant, of course she'd hesitate to kill even the embodiment of evil, so long as it wore Bank's face. She did not deserve to be a sacrifice to her goodness, however; if this was a trial of Hell, then it was surely successful in spreading its grim punishment well beyond Winnie's cell as Indy's chest swelled with fury similar, she was sure, to what her sister must be feeling.

"If you don't kill him, you'll fucking die!" Indy cried, but her pleas fell on deaf ears as the horrible sounds of bones snapping and skin knitting together suddenly went silent. At the sound of Winnie's cry Indy jumped, her mouth opening and closing as she silently prepared herself for the inevitable sounds of death that were to follow.

But they never came. Something else did.

After all, every version of Hell needed its own Lilith.

Accompanied by none other than the wannabe devil himself, the woman nearly glided into the room as Key strolled beside her. Indy's mouth remained gapping as she watched him smile--the expression eerily reptilian in its nature--before placing his curled lips on her hand. This is officially the grossest circle of the afterlife.

Indy wasn't sure she could be surprised by anything anymore, yet the woman's words still sent a shiver of shock down her spine. So this was the mysterious family member Key had previously mentioned. Evidently, according to Winnie's shocked screaming, her name was Wendy. Before there was time to truly process this information, a flock of dark coven members was descending on Winnie's and the kid's cells.

Indy slapped her hands against the bars, screwing her lips shut as she appraised the situation. Yelling would be a useless endeavor in every sense but the performance, but the words still fought for freedom between tongue and locked teeth.

It was Winnie's pleading that nearly broke Indy, her trembling voice detailing the extent of her self-loathing as Indy observed Wendy and Key staring coldly on. Just as Indy's lips parted she heard another scream--someone unidentified, and Banks himself. Or rather, itself.

Indy's panicked yelling was lost to the cacophony of screeching. How many times would she have to listen to death before it swallowed her? How many different sounds could signal a life cut short? So far it had been a hollow bang, the wet splashing of brain matter hitting a stone floor, and now an unearthly screaming disappearing into sudden silence.

Indy fell back to the bottom of her cell, burying her fingers in her hair as she felt each breath blast the tops of her cold knees. Her hands were trembling, wrapping strands of hair into tight knots as she desperately sought to establish her balance. What was the weight? At what point, in pounds, in kilograms, in fucking tons, would her knees finally collapse?

Roje was quiet, but Indy could just barely distinguish the sound of her body similarly dropping against the wall of her own cell. Her sister. She had always imagined what it might be like to have a sister, a biological sibling--just like the other kids had back home, someone to go home with after the playing was over and it was time to retreat from the fields. Here she was, locked away by a cell door and stone walls, listening to the same soundtrack of death as they both sat helpless against their fate.

Helplessness is learned. Indy sucked in a gasp of air, blowing it out slowly from her nose as strands of stray hair danced and tickled her eyelashes. She would not die helplessly, nor would Roje.

Yet the devil came knocking. Indy lifted her head at the sound of Key's voice, her lips curling behind the screen of hair. Time to draw her blood and sign her life away. As the pseudo-Lilith approached her cell, Indy stood and pressed herself against the bars. "Another lost sister? Does Key keep a drawer of lost siblings? Or is it more of a Rolodex situation?"

The woman was waving her fingers, weaving the light as Indy watched with piqued interest as a small cloth slowly appeared in Wendy's hands. She had seen magic in a sense, with Key's violent displays--yet she had never witnessed something so deceivingly beautiful. It was a shame, truly, that such beauty was wasted on such hideous wastes of life.

Indy stared at the woman's face. She had similarly petite and innocent features, her soft expression echoing Winnie's. It was difficult to believe someone who appeared so sweet and gentle would stoop to fucking that bawbag.

"I hope you're using protection, for your sake," Indy muttered as she snatched the cloth from the guard and held it carefully in her hands. Indigo blue. Funny. "Tell Peter Pan my naked ass isn't going anywhere until I know the others will be alright."
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Razial Hale

Tags: Maylee Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees | Location: Coven HQ​


"No, no, no. That's too much pain." His tone was patient, though a little like he was explaining things to a child. Razial moved his hands, fingers crossing and uncrossing, sliding down and up. They moved over the top of Maylee's head, and some of her pain was taken away. In a little red ball of lightning that spun around in the palms of his hands. "You're not at that level. Yet. But... you can be."

He held the lightning ball until she gazed upon it. It was a thing of beauty and destruction all wrapped up in a nice sphere. It spun and pulsed with a life energy of its own. "Magic.. is energy, did you know that?" Razial gave her a nice smile, but his gaze was on the ball.

One hand shifted to over on top, one of the bottom, with little lightning arcs striking either palm now and then. Slowly, he pressed his palms together, crushing the excess he took from Maylee. When Razial lifted his hands next, there was nothing left but a fine, red powder. "There's so much you can do with it in this form. Hold out one of your hands. Palm up, pretty please with a martini on top."

As soon as she did, he took a pinch of the powder and set it in the middle of her palm. "Now, put that on your tongue, but don't swallow." A dry chuckle, before he added, "Just.. let it sit. Like a kitty cat in a ray of sunshine." And he took the rest, demonstrating.

It sat there on his tongue for only a second or two, before the red powder soaked, no.. merged with his tongue. It gave his mouth a small bit of a lightning storm, but then it was gone. "Taken this way, you get a boost to your ability. In this case, it should help you control and channel the pain magic inside you now."

Razial leaned back, carefully wiping his palms clean before resting them on top of his still crossed legs. "Go on, try to hit one of the targets behind you. Just..." One hand lifted, wrist flip to palm up to the ceiling. "Picture it in your mind, whatever shape you want it to take, and imagine it hitting the target. Just do it. Don't overthink it."

coded by natasha.
 

A NIGHT BLEEDS
A story by Out Of Words​




Alyce Wright

Tags: Coda Vinegar Bees Vinegar Bees Hayley Britt-21 Britt-21 | Location: Coven HQ ​


Alyce reached for one of Coda's hands, while pointing to a spot off to the left for Hayley to take. "Good, I'll find you things to do. Things worthy of your power. For now, please stand there, facing us." Then she turned her full attention to the half demon.

She leaned forward, sharing a secret even if she didn't whisper. "I hear you have special blood, that's okay. Don't worry about it for this, alrighty?" Her nose scrunched up as she examined his palm. "By this blood oath, you promise to protect me from anyone who would see me come to harm. That's it, that's the only duty of this particular binding. Well, and if you fail, and I come to harm, it shall also befall you tenfold. This bond cannot be broken unless I release you of your duty. Do you understand?"

Coda frowned down at his hand as Alyce examined it. It was lucky, perhaps, that he had only smashed his knuckles on the mirror, not his palm. It wasn't as if he was a stranger to blood contracts—he had had to make more than one over the course of his employment at the coven—but the authoritative, somber tones of those past contracts were incongruent with Alyce's barely-contained excitement.

So he would protect Alyce or pay. Simple enough. It was unnerving, maybe, to admit, but pain didn't scare him anymore. Pain was unpleasant, but it was an affirmation of existence. To be ignored, to be made small, to be tossed aside—all of these were far greater nightmares, and when he was left alone in the dark, Coda often found himself wondering whether he truly existed at all.

It was in those moments that pain woke him up, tethered him to reality.

Not that he had any plans of failing the contract. Whatever his life was worth, he would protect Alyce with it.

"I understand," he said grimly.

Alyce smiled and rubbed his hand between both of hers. "Good." She looked to Hayley, "I'm going to cast the witness remembrance on you. It will ensure you can always recall this moment as if you were watching it again." One hand lifted then, fingers doing some type of delicate piano playing in the air as she recited an incantation. It sounded like two voices saying it, a deeper voice echoing it underneath her own. "Jinthil nomeno halkvri wer keari sulta."

Then she turned back to Coda, quickly slicing the palm of her left hand, followed by a slice to the palm of his left hand. "Sia iejir ekess dout iejir, dout iejir ekess sia iejir." She placed their palms together, wincing only slightly as his blood burned at her own hand, repeating the incantation. "Sia iejir ekess dout iejir, dout iejir ekess sia iejir."

The wind picked up in the area, rustling leaves, her dress, her hair. "Sia iejir ekess dout iejir, dout iejir ekess sia iejir." The sky darkened, and drops of rain fell down upon them, the dual voice growing louder. "Sia iejir ekess dout iejir, dout iejir ekess sia iejir." A thunderstorm rolled in, their bodies becoming quickly soaked by the rain, now pouring down.

"Sia iejir ekess dout iejir, dout iejir ekess sia iejir." She was nearly screaming it now, her eyes never leaving Coda's. A flash of lightning in the sky, "Sia iejir ekess dout iejir, dout iejir ekess sia iejir." And the lightning struck the ground between them, but there would be no damage from it. Just the blinding light, and the sudden loud noise of the strike itself.

And as soon as it had come, the storm was gone, the area was filled with pleasant sunshine. Their hair and clothes as dry as when they arrived. And Alyce was wiping her hand off with a handkerchief she pulled from a pocket of her dress. She showed the healed palm once the blood was cleaned off, and then did the same for Coda's, healing it in the cleaning.

"There, that wasn't so bad now, was it?"
coded by natasha.
 


The rapt look on Wendy's face, cold and cunning, was so far removed from any of the expressions in Winnie's memory that she shuddered, wondering whether this lovely but sinister girl was really her sister at all. Could someone really change that much? And what of her appearance? Why had she frozen in time, so much younger than she should have been by now—?

Inwardly, Winnie lashed herself with a sharp rebuke. Of all people, you should know how fear changes people. She had unequivocally left Wendy alone in that mousetrap of a house, alone to suffer whatever it had in store for her. Sure, while she had been there, Wendy had been spared the worst of it—she had been younger, more innocent, more easily excused; Winnie herself had attracted enough of the abuse, like a flame drawing ravenous moths, to shield her little sister, but—

(A nobler, better sister would have said she had protected Wendy intentionally; in truth, Winnie had not had the courage even for that. A combination of happenstance, the age gap, and Winnie's seemingly cosmic back luck had resulted in the inequity between the sisters' treatment. The baby must be spared as much as possible, but the middle child had already by then gone sour, curdled, ruined; there was no point in trying to reverse the damage.)

—what had happened to Wendy after her older sister had gone? Cullen had always liked Wendy better, but without his favorite little punching bag around, had he resorted to picking on Wendy? And what about their mother? Normally, she reined in her temper as much as she could around her daughters, saving her outbursts for an equally-willing combatant like Cullen, but had the years changed that? Had the tight leash she kept around her unbridled spirit—capable of equal feats of passion and fury—irrevocably snapped?

Winnie flinched when her sister addressed her, inquiring about whatever horrid transformation she had forced Banks through. "I... I don't know," she said meekly, unable to meet Wendy's eyes. What, indeed, had she done? What had she made Banks do—?

Was he in pain behind those eerie amber eyes?

Before she and Wendy could have much of an interaction, though, Key called the latter to his service, and Wendy smoothed out her pristine dark dress and rose to her feet.

"W—Wait—Wendy," Winnie stammered clumsily, but Wendy paid her little mind, instead planting on Key's cheek a chaste kiss that made Winnie's insides shiver. Then Winnie watched all that remained of her family depart to see to Indy.

Oh—Indy—Roje—

Guilt and shame speared her through. She had been so feverishly confused by the appearance of her sister and Banks's subsequent demonstration that she had momentarily forgotten about the other pair of sisters, who were in every bit as precarious a situation as she was—

Stupid. Selfish. Coward.

Fearing she might collapse from the strain and fear of the situation, Winnie clung tightly to Banks's arm, shivering as she tried to conceal herself as much as possible behind his much-larger frame. From the other cell, Winnie could faintly hear Indy and Wendy speaking, with the former bargaining for her fellow prisoners' safety, and the guilt and shame that had impaled her twisted in deeper. A complete stranger, she was, and yet Indy was already acting more of a sister to her than Winnie had ever been to her own.


winnie sawyer.

psychic vampire

 
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