voodoopeach
+ alien from the void +
- writing sample 1
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Freshly fallen snow blanketed the ground in way that silenced nearly everything, save for the satisfactory sound of ice crunching underneath her boots. Winter had always been her favorite season, if only because the change of landscape and snowfalls always made the Earth seem a bit more magical, showing a different side than what was usually on display. Normally, the forest would’ve been considered a bit intimidating, thick with trees and shrubbery, darkened and difficult to navigate. But as it grew colder, the trees shed their leaves, most of them becoming barren and opening up wide spaces, allowing the sun to illuminate golden pathways in all directions. Instead of the regular trails and pathways, all of which she’d nearly come to know by heart, there was nothing but blank white, with the occasional criss-crossing of animal tracks here and there. The lack of familiar landmarks made her routine walk seem a bit more like an adventure than usual, adding a small amount of excitement to her otherwise boring day.
Isabelle had spent most her time at the library and then when she’d gotten home, she’d completed her chores; taking care of the small home while her father was away, visiting another town to trade materials. What was left of her free time had gone to taking care of the animals - the two horses and several chickens, not to mention the stray cats she didn’t have the heart to let starve, as if they couldn’t catch food for themselves - and then, finally, when everything else had been taken care of, Belle had set out for her walk, determined to spend time outdoors before the sun went down. There was a book at home, half read with a piece of blue ribbon tucked into the pages she was on at the spine, and it was a very good book so far, but she’d already resolved herself to finishing it later when she would be tucked into the arm chair by the fireplace.
Taking twists and turns at what she thought might be her normal pathways, Belle wove her way through the white forest, trusting that she would be able to find her way back by the trail of her footprints - after all, her father’s weather contraption that he’d created hadn’t predicted more snowfall for the day. After walking for what seemed like forever and was at least long enough for the cold to seep in through her boots and the double layer of socks she wore, the small brunette turned to go back in the direction she assumed she’d come from, looking for the trail of prints left behind by her feet only to discover that there were none. Turning in a complete circle, brown eyes carefully scanning the ground for anything she may have missed, panic began to set in, the reality of being lost in a frozen forest overnight setting in with a bite worse than the cold.
“Don’t panic,” She assured herself aloud, tucking her scarf into her jacket collar a bit tighter. “You’ll be fine.” The words were meant to comfort her and while they helped a little, she tried not to consider the possibility that she had wandered a little too far into the forest. Either way, the sun was going to be setting soon and she was too sensible to stay put where she was. Picking a direction that she hoped held shelter someplace warm, Belle marched off towards the sunset, trying to keep headed in as straight a direction as she possibly could. Eventually bored with the tedious task of focusing on keeping a straight path, her mind began to wander, zoning her out to the land of daydreams until it was almost dark and she’d quite literally walked into a wall. Well, actually, it was a gate attached to a large stone wall, but she’d still walked right into it.
Rubbing her nose from the consequential pain of not paying enough attention, Belle peered beyond the iron bars to spy what appeared to be an abandoned castle. “The castle!” She whispered in shock, remembering the tales that existed around the town about a nearly forgotten castle - some of the boys her age had dared each other to visit the site, claiming it was haunted or worse, but none of them had been brave enough to go in. “Well, I’m not afraid of ghosts.” She stated to the wintry air, a new excitement budding inside her. Not only had she found a place to stay, at least for the night, but she had the chance to explore what was supposed to be an empty castle. It was an adventure for the ages, something to satisfy her curiosity for a while. Something she could even write a book about.
Pushing on the gate with all her weight in attempt to force the rusty hinges open, Belle eventually made it give away, falling forward onto the castle grounds and straight into the thick layer of snow. With a slight pout she pushed herself off of the ground and brushed the snow from her tights and skirt, forcing the white flurries off of her coat before tucking a piece of hair that had come loose from her braid back behind her ear and setting off towards the castle’s front door. The steps were not as slippery as she had assumed they would be and she climbed them with ease, reaching the top of the staircase in seconds. Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Isabelle wrapped her hand around the brass knob and twisted. Much to her surprise, the heavy door swung open slowly, with only a slight groan from lack of use.
“Hello?” She called, stepping in through the doorway before snorting at herself. “That’s a ridiculous question to ask in abandoned castle, unless I’m greeting the dust bunnies.” - writing sample 2
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Alistair very rarely knew what to do when he had time alone to himself. It had been many, many centuries since he'd last had 'free time', so to speak, and it would take more than a few months with handfuls of moments alone in a shady hotel room or a sorry excuse for a truck - all the offense to Annie intended, because he still couldn't rationalize why she'd bothered to keep such a piece of junk around - for him to acclimate to a more comfortable state during solitude. Like most all demons, or all the ones he knew anyways, he'd been human once. A very, very long time ago, yes, but human nonetheless. And he liked to believe that he was still human in some ways. Or at least more human than the others of his 'kind', if you could truly call them that.
Whatever remained of his humanity showed at times like these, when he was uncertain or left to his own devices. He didn't want to destroy anything or torment people, though he had done both those things, and more, plenty of times before. As soon as the door had swung shut behind his companion (well, technically, he was her companion, like a dog accompanying a cat), Alistair had begun to move around the room, pacing around in what little space there was, almost nervously. He wasn't nervous, though. Not truly. Just a bit like an animal in a cage, a lot of pent up energy and nothing to do with it. Boredom, he supposed, was the word for it. His mind, not unlike a child's at times, found nothing of interest in the room. It was bland. Tasteless. Colorless. Barren. In fact, the most interesting things in the room were what they had brought with them, and he already knew the contents of the luggage.
That didn't stop him from rummaging through them, however. He didn't find very much, unless you counted the assorted arsenal Annie felt the need to carry with her everywhere. He didn't know what she feared or believed she would encounter, but by the guns and knives and other miscellaneous things she'd packed, he knew she expected the worst. Well, at least the worst of the things she knew about. He could think of over a handful of things she wouldn't be prepared for a meeting with. Hell, he could think of a few things he wasn't even prepared for. That was how big the world was. Even a demon, at his age, wasn't the most complete badass thing out there. There was always something scarier and more powerful than you.
Annie's suitcase quickly lost his interest, and he moved on to his own. Which, technically, wasn't his. She owned it. She'd packed it. It held half of her things, mostly clothes considering her own case held too many weapons to allow for much else. He pushed all the clothing items aside, with a little bit more force than truly needed. The 1800s. He did not look like he'd just come from the 1800s. In a moment of a frustrated aggravation, Alistair stopped his search to unbutton the vest he was wearing, quickly getting even more annoyed at the slow ability to work the buttons through the little holes (the pace was simply not fast enough for him, damn buttons) and just pulling it right over his head, not caring if it further messed up his hair. What he was left wearing wasn't much of an improvement. Truthfully, in an age where everyone wore jeans and the first t-shirt they grabbed in the morning, anyone was bound to look over dressed and possibly in the wrong time period if they bothered with crisply pressed button ups and slacks, even if his attire was actually not even from the time period he knew best.
He was now over his momentary mini-tantrum, and back to his previous task. Aside from the clothes, the contents of this bag contained odd herbs and minerals (courtesy of Annie's grandma and her hoodoo voodoo magic stuff), disposable cell phones (neither of them used them all that often; they didn't have anyone to contact anymore), and a few reading materials. For the most part, it was just maps and a journal of collected things compiled by Annie's parents. They had been the hunters, and she had just been a casualty - accidentally pulled into the life because of a simple mistake. Ali would've spent more time dwelling on that, and the affect it'd most definitely had on her psychological welfare, but he came across something he hadn't expected to find. She'd actually packed him something to read, after he'd mentioned a while back that he would've liked to have something to do when babysitting their latest hotel room, even if it was just reading a book. This book was entirely in Russian, too. Not that it was a problem for him. He could read every language. After all, he'd had plenty of time to study each and every one. Carelessly and without concern that anything in the suitcases would explode or catch on fire or cause any other sort of harm to him, Alistair pushed them onto the floor, not even sparing the scattered contents a second glance as he settled onto the bed to read his book. Messes didn't bother him in the slightest, and in fact, he worked better when there was clutter. His home, when he'd last had one, would've resembled what was now often thought of as being what a mad scientist or crazy philosopher's place of study would've looked like. Books stacked to towering heights, papers strewn about, broken glass here and there amongst intact bottles of suspicious liquids. He'd practiced magic, once upon a time. Now he no longer needed to, seeing as one of the not-so-truly-nifty nifty perks of being a demon was being able to work all kinds of strange magic without even really needing to lift a finger.
Maybe that was how he knew she was there, before she'd even touched the door. It had been at least fifteen minutes since he'd begun his book, probably, and he was totally engrossed in it. Yet, despite being entirely occupied by the foreign words on the page, he would have noticed even if a bug moved across the ceiling above his head. Of course, Annie's little bowl of magic was, well, working it's magic, for lack of better words. The moment she actually touched the door, even though he could hear her trying to pick the lock, harmless purple sparks ran across the inside of the door and along the walls, acting as an alarm system of sorts. He waited for a few moments, watching in amusement. For such basic and plain magic straight out of the bayous of Louisiana, it was a rather strong ward. One he'd always underestimated, and he suspected, Annie did, too.
After listening to her try the lock a few times, Alistair gave up and closed his book, laying it down on the beside end table before sliding off the bed silently. His movements were barely audible, filled with an almost catlike grace. He moved easily, quietly, fluidly - taking his time to reach the door. Far too simply, he could've just waved his hand and the door open, but instead he opted for the human way of things, touching the door entirely unafraid of the magic surrounding it. It yielded to his will, swinging open to allow him to lean against the doorway.
"I suppose you're not here to turn down my bed sheets, are you?" He wondered aloud, an eyebrow cocked at the girl before him. His words were accented, but very faintly. It had been a very long time since he'd been in his home country. Surely, after so much time in hell, you lost your original way of speaking altogether.
—
Retching wasn't fun. It was almost worse than truly vomiting, because at least if you did, then it was over. Whatever was making you sick was out of your body, at least for the time being, and you were done. You could go about your business as soon as you got that nasty taste out of your mouth. But when you had nothing in your stomach, nothing toxic to dispel from your body, there was nothing to make you feel better. And because the sickness was caused by something bad - something truly bad - being near her, at least in the same proximity, popping a few tums wouldn't help her.
She didn't notice him until he spoke, and his voice caused her to straighten right up. Immediately, her hand that wasn't still braced against the wall went to the small of her back, feeling for the gun that she knew was there. She was used to it's weight, she was used to the weight of everything she wore now since she rarely deviated from her wardrobe, but she was still aware of it being there. If one thing went missing out of the leather jacket she had on, she noticed, or at least felt like something was wrong. She was even used to the clunky boots she wore, laced up nearly to her knees over her jeans, and loose fitting shirts made her feel naked. Almost more naked than actually being naked did. But regardless, feeling the gun actually there underneath her fingertips made her feel better, at least slightly.
Grey-blue eyes assessed him quickly but cautiously, skeptically - something she'd learned to do now, to everyone, even children. What it told her, more often than not wasn't very much. If she was hoping to be able to tell whether or not someone was something nasty or demonic simply with a glance over, it never worked.
"I'm fine." Annie answered, brushing back dark pieces of hair from her face. She was responsible for cutting her own hair, and though all she did now was trim it when needed, she'd once thought it'd be a good idea to just hack it up. As a result, there were several pieces too short to fit properly into the braid, or just long enough to end up in half of it. They were growing out, though, and she didn't actually care. It was just hair, and she no longer bothered with her appearances anymore. She didn't want to draw attention to herself. She wanted people to leave her alone, let her save their stupid asses and move on to the next scary thing that set fear into the pit of her stomach, but she was far too stubborn and determined to leave alone.
She did have a lighter, though, and she slid her hand into the inside pocket of her jacket to get it, feeling past the cold metal of the flask of holy water to get to it. "Here," she called, pulling it out and immediately tossing it at his head from where she was standing. She didn't want it to hit him - even though she probably wouldn't apologize if it did - but it was more like a test. To check his reflexes, y'know? She hadn't learned much in the past year and a half, especially compared to other hunters (she now included herself under that job description), but she'd learned enough.
- writing sample 3
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He had grown up on Bellerophon, and for that, a part of her would probably always resent him. Although, he wasn't the only person Maia held indignation for - anyone who had come from a better upbringing than her tended to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Jealousy, annoyance, disdain - a mix of several negative emotions all swirled inside her over the fact that there were people walking around far more entitled than she, and all because they got fucking lucky. Or their parents did. Ras didn't act as entirely entitled as he really was, though, and that was why she was able to tolerate him. Most of the time, at least. Well, if you asked him, he was likely the one tolerating her, but he was a stupid boy and therefore he was just backwards and wrong. Growing up, Maia had been looked down upon. She'd been born on Haven and as a young girl moved with her family to Osiris, to support her brother's hopes and dreams of working his way up the social (and economic) ladder to be someone of great importance. Of course, that plan hadn't panned out as well as her parents had hoped. Well, okay, it had to an extent. Now Rowan was living on Beaumonde, the wealthy owner of some ranch that directly helped support the Alliance. He had children and was married now, but couldn't care less for his baby sister. While he'd flounced around and gotten a high education on Osiris, Maia had taken quite the opposite direction. She spent most of her time picking fights and skipping around on her own, making a few mismatched friends here and there. That was how she came across Ras. He came across her, actually. She was in the middle of an argument, likely about to be jumped, when he'd stepped in. He'd expected her to be grateful, but her reaction had been quite the opposite. She'd wanted that fight to happen. Those rich brats had insinuated that her parents were thieves and that was the only way they'd been able to afford the move to Osiris (oh, if she'd only known how right they were). They'd also made it extremely clear that they thought her to be far beneath them, as though because she came from a planet full of miners and smugglers, she was somehow tainted and dirty. Guilty by association and unworthy of whatever life had to offer her. Maia had really, really looked forward to kicking their asses - or at least having a bit of an adrenaline rush while she got her ass handed to her, whichever outcome happened. So instead of thanking him, she'd punched him right in the center of his stupid face for ruining her fun and somehow, they'd been friends ever since. Sure, they fought and she liked to bag on him and he totally tried to get under her skin on purpose, but they were solid. They were a crew. He knew her prejudice and accepted her faults, and she helped ground him. They were a team.
Quickly, her brother had wanted little to do with her and her declining reputation. Then when their parents passed, he only distanced himself further. Luckily for Maia, she was old enough to care for herself by then, if her idea of 'caring' for herself was anything close to the real thing. So when Ras suggested that they do some traveling, and didn't protest against the majority of her ideas of adventures, she nothing to lose. Persephone was fairly new territory to Maia. Haven was her home, Osiris was her hell, and Beaumonde was a planet she never wanted to land on. Anywhere else was fair game though, at least as far as she was concerned. Now that she had the ability to travel, of course. Technically speaking, it was really just Ras's ability - his father owned some trading port and he'd been allowed his own ship, and everything beyond that was history, as they say - but seeing as she wasn't missed anywhere else and he didn't care that she tagged along, it was her ability, too. And while he just wanted to wander aimlessly as far as she knew, most likely visiting places simply because he could, Maia dreamed of something bigger. Something much more fun. Trouble always accompanied her kind of fun, but hey, whatever. To each their own, yeah? They were on this planet because of her choosing. Their first trip together outside of Osiris, and neither of them knew much about the piece of space rock they were on. Their combined lack of knowledge was what lead to their separation. Maia didn't know how long it'd been since she'd seen Ras, probably no more than a few hours, but she wasn't worried. He wouldn't leave without her, she was confident. Secretly, she had as much faith in him as she did the fact that the planets would continue in their predestined orbit.
In the meantime, however, the dark haired girl opted to wander the streets of the now quiet and sleepy but usually bustling city. Something about the dirty streets and people made her feel at home, although Haven didn't much resemble Persephone in her eyes. There were similarities, both places held criminals, but Persephone just seemed much livelier and she felt that she fit right in. Outwardly, she did - the only thing that gave her away to be a visitor rather than a resident was the way she walked around, wide eyed and curious, trying to take everything in all at once because she'd never seen it before. Other than that, she looked just as dirty as everyone else. Her hair was messy - unwashed going on three days, but totally fine in her book because it wasn't yet oily - and tied back into a ponytail. Even tied up it was long, falling to the middle of her back in unruly waves that were in clear need of at least a trim. It looked as though she'd slept in the same hairstyle for days without bothering to readjust it, which was exactly what had happened. Her face was clean and bare, save for the smudge of grease just under her chin, left over from being in the engine room - the mechanics of the ship were the only thing she took any true interest in. She didn't bother with make-up. In fact, Maia didn't even own anything, except maybe a dark stick of kohl. But if she did, it was far beyond lost and not at all missed. Rarely ever did she remember lining her green eyes with anything. She didn't want to draw attention to them, or anything else on her face, really: she felt her eyes were a muddy green, not at all pretty; her nose was too small; her lips were too big in comparison to the rest of her features, and uneven; her complexion was nothing short of alabaster, and not in an attractive, cream colored kind of way. More of a 'go vacation on Lux and get some color, girl, you're looking rather ill' kind of way. As for her clothes, well, the majority them actually belonged to Ras. The boots were hers - scuffed and probably going to begin falling apart soon, but still functioning. They didn't give her much height, but she was already tall enough on her own. Still, they boosted her to be nearly the same height as Rasmus. They were laced all the way the way up, stopping mid-calf, and tucked into them were tan cargo pants, belonging to the boy she traveled with. They were spotted with oil and grease stains matching the one on her face and too big for her, the only thing holding them up on her hips being a set of broken cables she'd fastened together to act as a sort of belt. It worked, so she went with it. Besides, the cables were useless and now they had a purpose. The shirt was actually hers, plain and white, but over it was another item of his clothing. The sweater was something she'd thrown on, a dark navy color and just large enough to cover up her makeshift belt. Aside from being slept in, her overall outfit was clean and didn't attract unwanted attention.
"Excuse me," Maia muttered, brushing past a few people standing in front of one of the only open market stalls. At this hour, while the sun was just beginning it's journey for the day, it seemed that the docks were still bathed in the remnants of dreams - people were out, but they were few in numbers and most of them still looked as though they were still half-asleep in bed. She had actually considered picking one of their pockets, but they all looked like the working class - she tended to pick those who could manage to lose a few bills (or coins, if they were carrying the illegally minted and non-tracked form of currency), out of knowing how hard it was to not have any money and her disapproval of those who just sat on top of their money. Instead, she ducked into a little side stall. Really, it was more of a tent, but wares were being sold inside and that had to count for something. Not that she had much money - a few coins sat in her pocket, and only a single bill rested with them. But browsing didn't hurt, she decided, letting her fingertips trail along some of the items on one of the tables. Little trinkets, mostly, but at the end something caught her eye and immediately, she knew she had to have it. It was a necklace of sorts, a circular pendant, green in color and made of some sort of stone. It was nothing she recognized or had ever seen before, and she'd never taken any interest in jewelry, but this piece was different.
A large part of her wanted to steal it. It would be so easy to slide into one of her many pockets or drop into the side of her boot. But an even larger part of her wanted it to be hers, paid for and owned properly. So instead of theft, Maia simply picked up and made her way over to the seller, prepared the bargain and plead and maybe even cry her way to owning the pretty object in her hand. "I'd like to buy this," she stated, holding up the necklace before reaching into her pocket. It was early, and she didn't know why the seller was even operating the stall with so few potential customers on the streets, but that wasn't for her to worry about so she pushed it out of her mind. Pulling out all of her pocket's contents, she laid everything out on the counter. It didn't amount to much; a few coins, a single bill, and a few little items she'd actually taken from other shops. Y'know, without paying. Nobody saw her, she was sure, and they were things she didn't think were worth very much anyways. Nothing she distinctly knew would be expensive.
Somehow, she felt connected to the pendant and she wouldn't be able to leave Persephone without it on her person.
------
Landing, for once, had actually been fairly easy. Usually Rasmus had to nearly get into a fistfight to get a spot for his ship, but by some stroke of luck, a place had been freed up just moments before they'd reached the docks and, through a small amount of bribery and persuasion, he'd been able to secure it. Near immediately after landing, Maia had practically dragged him into the city, eager to look around and, he knew, steal if she came upon an opportunity. Her thievery didn't bother him in the least. He knew how blurry her morals were, but compared to his own, he was sure she was definitely closer to sainthood than he. That was the main reason he'd lost her. He'd let them get separated on purpose - not hard to do in one of the busiest spaceports in the entire verse, even as slow as it was at this hour - and was now free to do as he pleased, without the silly girl getting them both into trouble he hadn't bargained for. He fit into the city just as easily as she did, but on a planet so large and filled with life, it wasn't a hard thing to achieve. It probably helped that he didn't look as though he possessed any amount of wealth - in fact, he appeared to be quite the opposite. There had been plenty of times when he'd been stopped on suspicion of, well, anything that had happened recently in whatever area he was in. Wrong place, wrong time sort of deal, he supposed. Once, it had been proposed to him - by a certain brunette pain in the ass he traveled with - that if he actually bothered to dress within his very affordable means, he wouldn't have the issue of being mistaken for some sort of street rat.
But, much like Maia, he wasn't looking to draw extra attention to himself. He was dressed almost the exact same way she was, but their coordination wasn't intentional. She just refused to let him purchase her own clothing and continued to wear his things. Considering they were his belongings, everything fit him better than it fit her. His pants stayed up on their own - these were the same style, only black and with fewer pockets. His boots weren't tied, the laces were loose and simply tucked in to keep from dragging on the ground. His shirt was a dark maroon and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing more of his caramel colored skin. His hair was in better shape than Maia's, she was too attached to her already accumulated length, but Rasmus cared little for his hair, changing it whenever he actually had a moment to think it needed a change. Currently it was long enough to for the dark locks to touch his shoulders, rather unkempt and messily pushed back from his face. Unlike the situation with the mop on his head, Ras kept his face clean shaven, despising even the slightest bit of stubble. It was rough and itchy, and made him look much older than he was, and he was already old enough.
That was where their differences began. Not only was he about four inches taller than her, he was also about four years older than her, give or take a few months. Where she was all cool, pale tones, he was all dark and warmth. Her eyes stayed wide, and his golden brown ones stayed almost always half-lidded, lazy and narrowed, as if he was somehow disinterested and interested all at once. She was loud and far too blunt for her own good, and he was quiet and far too secretive for anyone's good, probably. All of her features were soft and small, so standing next to her not only made his skin stand out even more, the contrast also caused his angles to look sharper. His jawline, his nose, the way his face came together was very hard and angular. Attractive, he'd been told, but Ras didn't see it.
Quietly, the young man made his way through the streets of the docks, his hands in his pockets, appearing rather aimless. Despite whatever his companion believed, he did have an agenda, and it was no coincidence that he'd agreed to let them go to Persephone. Not for any devious reasons. He wasn't looking to undermine any government authorities, not tonight. Instead, he was looking for people who wanted to travel, who would help with the ship and not question his background. People he could trust, and that Maia couldn't scare off. Preferably people without an undying love for the Alliance - his mother had been an Independent and he had taken strongly after her, rejecting nearly every quality of his father he'd ever seen, save for his inheritance - with no qualms about whatever it was that he intended to do in the life he was trying to create for himself. Which he had no real direction yet, and he was sort of relying on the universe to set his course for him, maybe send him a sign or drop a piece of paper in his lap, with instructions on what to do to feel worthy of his own life. In the end, he just wanted to help people, even if that meant hurting people like his father - or the Alliance - in the end. Not that he intended to wage another war or anything - he just wanted to live from underneath the eye of the government's scope and do as he pleased. If he made friends along the way, that was fine by him.
"Very sorry to interrupt," He began, actually not all that sorry to place himself in the conversation of a few shipmates. They were probably waiting on their ship to refuel or for the cargo to be loaded for their next voyage, but Ras wasn't interested in that. "Any of you happen to know which direction a man needs to go to get a drink around here?" Some sort of saloon would be the best place to find eager wanna-be travelers, at least until the market got busier. "I've spent too much time on Osiris and not nearly enough in the rest of the Verse to be of any use to myself in my search."
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