andreas mondragón ✦ raquel mondragón

"Rocky?" His voice was hesitant as he called out for his wife, still having to adjust to the idea that he'd been existing without her. For countless years he been a ghost, aware that he was missing something -- but having no real ideas as to what, or who. A part of him feared that she wouldn't be waiting for him as he returned, that his outburst with Ignacio would have forced her away, a thought that until confirmed he couldn't bear to entertain. "I uh -- " clearing his throat, he headed further into the apartment, "I know I was longer than I said, I just -- had some things to take care of." Things, of course meaning Ignacio. "I checked in on Zera too. M'sorry, mi reina."

There was a peace no greater than when he was with Camille, or as now admiring her from afar as she appeared lost within the music. There was a gentle smile tugging at his lips as his digits toyed with the glass of liquor on the table in front of him, gaze completely transfixed upon her; as if nobody else who existed. Once noticed, he ensured to grasp the attention of a waiter, ordering Camille's drink of choice, as she made her way towards him. Sitting himself up straighter, his eyes continued to follow her every movement, willing her closer.

Inhaling a soft breath, he rejoiced beneath the close proximity as she took a seat beside him – side by side as their shoulders met with each breath “and you, love” he hummed, glancing towards her with a soft expression. “You look beautiful, Cami” he reminded softly, his smirk remaining as he turned himself to face her, ensuring that they remained within touching distance “I didn’t wish to disturb you. You looked quite peaceful without my interruption.” 

He could feel as she began to relax, but the held tension hadn't been lost on him and his brow creased within momentary concern, “are you alright?” he questioned calmly, a hand lifting to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she began to explain. “Is there anything that I can do to help?” he hummed, his hand lowering but remaining close as his fingers brushed against hers. “If you need to talk, I am always here to listen, love. Or if you prefer not, perhaps my company can suffice -- although, I'm not so certain how much comfort that alone can bring" he teased.

closed starter; @fragmcntedsouls for klaus location; an old jazz bar in the french quarter

There was a heaviness in the air around her, one that only seemed to fade thanks to the music that poured out on to the streets ahead. Following the sound, she found her way to a seat at the bar with a candid smile on her face. It wasn't until the song was over that she noticed Klaus sitting across from her, shaking her head softly she made her way over to the seat next to him.

"I should've known that you would be here." Sitting close, her shoulder touching his as that usual heat ran through her body. This always happened when he was near and she welcomed it. There had been a time where the two of them weren't this touchy in public, but thanks to some weird circumstances the two found their way to one another. So she relished these moments with him, where her skin touched his and a calm ran through her anxious brain.

Taking a deep breath, she allowed her shoulders to relax some. The atmosphere was perfect, yet stress still loomed over her body. "I have no appointments today, decided I needed a day off, but I can't seem to stop my brain." She used to hide these feelings, but it felt so easy to say it now, as if was silly to even think it was hard before. "The music is helping."

abel campbell ✦ riley shaw // (@vilisisms)

Abel sauntered into the record shop with his usual level of confidence, spotting Riley almost immediately with a grin. "Listen, I heard that you were in a funk, but do you really have to take it out on the records?" Grimacing, he gestured towards the record player "what even is this?" He then continued to enclose their distance, his features relaxing as he tossed an an 'i love New York' magnet into Riley's direction, before placing his palms flat against the counter. "I got you a gift, but don't tell Briggs, or Lucas. I'd hate for em to think that i'm playing favorites. That and I only had enough money for one, so spill and you might just have share it. Oh and before you ask, no I didn't go to New York. It was all I could find though."

andreas mondragón ✦ zeraphine mondragón // (@burningmyths)

For the most part, Andreas had been silent after his altercation with Ignacio. Whilst he would heal, the pair had quite literally torn chunks out of each other and with his emotions still volatile, healing was a process. Whilst he didn't hold her accountable for any of the situation, he couldn't yet face Raquel and the first person that he needed to see -- as always -- was his sister. Whilst she was the voice of reason, in remembering everything, he knew how close Zera had been to Rocky and for his own piece of mind, he needed to check in with her.

"Guess I don't need to ask if you remember too" Dreas grumbled, vaguely gesturing towards the open bottle of liquor on the counter, before pushing the frozen steak against his forehead. An unsteady breath filtered from his lungs, sat sprawled out on Zera's kitchen floor, quick to reassure, "he's fine. Just -- a scratch, that's all."

if I worked to the bone, pay for all we own, would you let me in? how I count to three when you scream at me, can't you let me in? 'cause I know how this goes, you're a dying rose, I will never win there's no more I can do, I have proved to you, I will never win i can never win 'cause the fire is slowly dying there's nothing I can do there's no one there besides me just memories of me and you i know the feeling well, I have failed again, I will never win i can never win

oliver reine ✦ alena morningstar (@ofhowlingxs)

"Alright kid, what gives?" Oliver sighed, slinging an arm around Alena's shoulders. "You can't expect me not to ask what's goin' on, when you ain't hurling insults my way like usual" he quipped with a grin before relenting. "Why don't we call it quits for today, huh? Can't let our seats at Auggies be gettin' cold now."

keelin malraux ✦ briggs mikaelson // (@ofmoonlitmagic)

Upon receiving a call from the emergency room that she had a visitor, Keelin soon finished up her rounds before sprinting to the department, knowing exactly who it was going to be. The grin that she wore was unmatched, only growing wider upon those suspicions being confirmed. Bonus points for the food in his hand. “I don’t know who i’m more glad to see, you or the takeout.”

Whilst she was kidding – mostly, she was thrilled to see her son back from his trip. Taking the bag from his grasp, she set it down onto the counter before taking both of his cheeks into her hands and placing a mom like kiss against his forehead, "let me look at you" she hummed, pulling backwards and inhaling a deep breath before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. “Oh my baby boy, I wanna hear everything.” 

abel campbell ✦ tobias campbell // (@traegics)

"Don't freak out" Abel murmured, barely having made it through the front door and dropped his bag on the ground before hearing his fathers footsteps approaching. "I get it, I should have called more, or like dropped you a location every now and again but -- I was fine, dad. Really. I'm good." In a bid to change the subject, Abel peered out the window towards the spare car in the drive, before calling back to his father, "who's uh, who's car is that out front. Am I interrupting something?"

Billie had comitted acts that she wasn’t proud of to survive and those acts had only become more complicated when she wasn’t just surviving for herself anymore. There was had been so much that she wanted to protect Jack from in the world and failed to, so part of her felt responsible for Jack’s dependency on a chemical high. In trying to spare her from the harm that the world could inflict on them, instead she had sent her spiralling down an entirely different path of self destruction. Whilst Billie got out, Jack hadn’t and so, she understood – perhaps more so than most, the allure of dark temptation. The allure of bad habits that had enabled survival. It was a difficult pattern to disrupt. 

Approaching her car now, the banshee became immediately defensive as she witnessed somebody trying to break into it. "Hey shithead" she called out, not yet realising who it was until Andy's voice carried between them. Upon the realisation, her features were imminent to soften and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "I mean, this is my car -- so no, I won't believe you but..."

Pulling her keys from the pocket of her shorts with a jingle, Billie unlocked the car for herself as Andy turned to face her, “I could just offer you a ride? Forewarning, my driving’s kind of – a work in progress.” Her eyes squinted through the darkness, before her features softened upon recognition for the other.

@exitiumstarters

She had told others she had met Lucas through a dating app, or high school, or any decent excuse she could come up with but the truth - the deep dark truth - was that she was a child that practically grew up in juvi. Maybe it was the fact they both suffered at the hands of a horrible family life or maybe it was mere coincidence but they had both become fond of each other through their shared experience of breaking the law. She was known as 'The Speed Demon of New Orleans', known to many juvi kids as the one who managed to steal cars from big names in New Orleans. Hell, she had even convinced many she had stolen two of Marcel Gerard's, a name well respected in her community.

So when she saw that her car was locked, she let out a small sigh and ran a hand over her face as she looked around. "I really thought I got past this phase," she muttered to herself as she took a credit card down and began to play with it where the lock was in her door. Cars were more advanced then they were when she was 14 but she had hoped that it would be simple for her to break through. Hearing a noise, her eyes widened and a smile formed. "Still got it, Andy," she breathed to herself as she opened the door and stood up before hearing a noise and turning her head. "If I say this is my car will you believe me or do I have to start begging?" she asked

cassian lancastor ✦ peyton morgrave // (@xlcsinggrip)

"You know, you should really invest in an alarm" Cassian mused as he toyed with the fabric of one of her daughters toys; hearing Peyton walking through the front door. He had ensured to make himself at home in the living room as he waited, giving the ear of the soft toy a squeeze making it squeak as he reminded her "you never know who could just invite themselves in."

Placing the stuffed bunny down beside him on the sofa, Cassian pushed himself up and approached Peyton. "I am doing everything that I can to keep you alive" his voice threatened to raise as his expression hardened. "But you --" he paused, a humourless chuckle passing between them "it's just like you're begging for us to kill your family." The OEA had eyes and ears everywhere and Peyton was supposed to be a part of that narrative. Instead, it was her that he was having to keep an eye on. Exhaling sharply, he shook his head, "but you see, my issue is, if we do that then what use are you to me?"

Peyton was his plan and whilst he knew the risks, her family were supposed to be reassurance that her pledged loyalty would not waver. He'd heard about the cop who had returned from the prison world, but never did he consider that Peyton would be stupid enough to be spotted with him. His jaw tightened as he offered his explanation "I know about your cop friend" tapping his index finger against his temple he elaborated, "I know what he can do, so you can understand why I want you to stay away from him. You think you're clever, Peyton" a humourless smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer, "you think you can outsmart us? Try it, see what happens."

Billie’s heart felt unimaginably full and she had to resist every temptation not just to yell ‘mom’ as she sauntered through into Zera’s apartment. There was something that just felt so safe and welcoming about being in the other’s company, everything that she understood a mother to be. If Billie had a bad day, whilst her first point of call would always be Briggs, Zera was right there with him – something that for Billie, was huge. Zera was every bit of the woman that she imagined a mother to be and for that she was so, so grateful that their paths had been destined to cross. 

Her smile only widened at the use of her name. Her true name. One that was gifted to her by the love of her life and one that held such a rich history. No longer was she a a Jane Doe with a surname bestowed upon her from location alone. Her arms opened, eager to return the embrace as she giggled, “it's catchy, right?” feeling a fierce blush against her cheeks given the compliment, “thank you” mom, “everything and more. It was perfect. We saw so much and we ate copious amounts of room service -- we lived, we really lived I loved every second of it. If I didn’t wanna see you so much, I’d have put up more of a fight before coming home” she teased, although her words weren't untrue. “Everything” she promised, before laughter roared from her lips, “don’t worry, those are saved in an completely different album, because those photos are strictly wife only territory now” she grinned as she leaned back from their embrace, holding up her hand in front of her face and wiggling her fingers “I don’t think life gets much better than this, right?”

Zera had lived vicariously through every moment her beloved angel child had sent to her over the course of her trip. What had been originally an overnight camping trip had become a wedding-honeymoon combo, and she truly couldn't imagine something more fitting of her daughter and beau than that. As much as she had been eager to plan her a wedding, what was most important was that Billie had been married exactly as she had wanted to be, what could bring Zera more joy than that?

"Mrs. Mikaelson!" She squealed in greeting, taking the cake only to set it aside for now. First, she wanted to hug this married woman. "You are glowing, mija, was it everything you dreamed?" She could almost cry for all the happiness coursing through her, bubbling up in a flood of laughter. "Tell me everything, show me every picture--well, maybe not every picture, I know it was part-honeymoon after all. There are sights of your husband I don't care to see."

They had remained tethered to one another in both life and death and everything in between, so this was to be no exception. The way that he was with her, the way he looked at her and took such gentle care, only proved that he was with her entirely. Never once did she fear that he would grow tired of her, resent her for everything that he was forced to endure with her, not like the others. She trusted wholeheartedly in him and in their love – true love that would never falter. No matter what they would be forced to face, it would always be together. There had been countless times that she had fought to spare him from this, but to no avail because he would always be there to catch her when she felt herself falling. He knew her better than she could ever know herself, knew what she needed. Understood that she needed him and she understood that it wasn’t one sided. He himself had endured his life without and she would fight with every ounce of her strength and beyond, to ensure that would never happen again. 

Her hand lifted to rest against the nape of his neck, teasing through his hair as a sign of affectionate gratitude and reassurance. “I’m okay” she promised softly as her breaths began to steady. “It’s the OEA” although, that didn’t need to be said because it always was “maybe three of them?” Whilst she wasn’t certain of the technicalities of intervening with death, she knew that they at least had to try. Why else would she be a siren of death, if not to intervene? “The woman -- she was saying something, I couldn’t make it out. Maybe Latin? Whatever it is, she’s fighting. So – we go fight for her, right?��� 

As he returned with the water, she eagerly accepted before leaning into him again, tilting her head as she brushed her lips against his cheek, her touch lingering as she murmured, “thank you, baby.” Leaning back just enough to look at him, her eyes carefully studied each feature, in complete awe as to how he could take something that she considered to be the worst of her and effortlessly turn it into something so beautiful. “I love you” she whispered, adoration etched into every word “and I love the way that your mind works, the way that you see this – see me.” Lifting her hand again, she gently grazed her fingers against his jaw as she inhaled a sharp breath, he was taking back the narrative of her own curse and for that, she would forever be grateful “I really mean it, Briggs, thank you.”

Each reassuring touch, each gentle kiss kept her grounded, her very own anchor working his magic as the pencil continued to glide across the page. She nodded as a slightly amused hum eased from her lips, murmuring “right – good point” his joke – as always – was perfectly timed and a subtle smile tugged at the corners of her lips, “maybe we could manifest that. I mean from what I hear some of those Disney characters really have it coming.” Her anxieties were imminent to dwindle as Briggs held her gaze, trusting in him and his abilities completely. If anybody could save the OEA'S victim, it would be him.

Even if his expression only lasted for a second, she could tell what he was thinking and without words, she offered her protest through eyes alone. She needed to see this through just as much as he did – the idea of him going into this on his own, not sitting right with her either. Following him as he pushed away from the bed, Billie shuffled towards the edge; gaze never leaving his as he drew from the power of the ring and his eyes shifted towards their supernatural hue. Her hands reached for his as she was pulled into a standing position and she gave a confident nod “always. Lets save a life.”     

Long before they were married, the world had been something they tackled together. Often misunderstood, they'd found understanding in each other, and there was nothing as beautiful or as powerful as that. Even in the nights she had wanted to slip away to spare him her reality, he'd reach out a hand and keep her close. He had known a world before her, with her, and after her, and he knew which he'd choose every time. This was part of her reality: her gift as much as her curse. He was in this with her until the end of time itself, and it was the easiest choice he could ever make.

His heart ached beneath his chest to see her in this state, the way it affected her, the horrors words would never describe to full impact. In the same way he'd never managed to accurately convey what it felt like to twist, contort, and shift organs, break every bone, he knew that even he would not be able to fully understand the deaths she'd seen and felt. He would remain present, try to find the beauty in the gift and ease the pain of the curse as best as he knew how.

"You see the forgotten, in the moments where someone wants to feel least alone," he reminded her, catching her gaze, "if we can save one, I think it's worth trying...and that will never be anything to be sorry for. Your heart is the biggest, most beautiful thing I've ever known, and this has always just been more proof of that for me." As she began to draw, he went over to the mini fridge he kept in one corner to grab her a chilled water bottle to ease the sting in her throat before again returning to her.

He watched her movements, the drawing taking shape as she drew almost trance-like. Running his fingers through her hair, he pressed another kiss to the top of her head as she leaned into him. "Yeah," he agreed, "definitely the church. I mean, if I were gonna murder someone, I wouldn't pick a super happy place. But who knows, maybe you'll send us to Disney World someday." Maybe not the best time for a joke, but it was unfortunately his way. "Well, lucky for her, I'm pretty fast," he mused, wiggling his ring finger before adding, "faster now." He thought for a half a second to suggest she stay here, an urge rising to protect her from any threat, but she needed to see this through. Rising from the bed, he held out his arms for her as he drew on the power of the ring, the full power of the wolf rising to the surface as it shifted the hue of his eyes. "Ready to stop a murder?"

[ tommy martinez | he/him ] Another face is seeking safety in New Orleans. Make sure to welcome EZEKIEL ‘ZEKE’ PADILLA to the home of the resilient. Rumor has it that they are an 32 year old WEREWOLF, who is one of the SURVIVORS but we’ll keep that a secret. They are said to be VEXATIOUS, but that’s all a façade to cover up their DILIGENT nature. We’ve heard that they can be found listening to NEON GRAVE by DAYSEEKER, which sums them up pretty well. Let’s hope that they can find a way to survive this harsh new world.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄: 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: ezekiel padilla 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: zeke, ez 𝐀𝐆𝐄: thirty two 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: september 23rd 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍: tbd 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: new orleans 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: organised crime babbyyy 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: chaotic undecided 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: phlegmatic

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂: found family, piles of books littered everywhere, constant bedhair, thoughts scattered on pages, contagious smile, stick and poke tattoo's, music playing 24/7, a thrifty boi, calloused hands often in cuffs.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: addiction, death

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘:

EZ's life was far from it and from an early age he was forced to fend for himself. His parents were addicts -- addicted to whatever they could get their hands on, regardless as to what personal cost that came to them or to their son. His parents were forever chasing that next high, long before the first had even worn off. They were a family that never had enough to make ends meet and so Zeke ensured to take care of that -- take care of them. Despite his parents fault and trust me, there were many, they were all that he had and he did everything possible to ensure that he wasn't taken from them. Even if that fight wasn't reciprocated.

Despite his efforts as valiant as they were, they were unrealistic and his fight eventually came to its end when he was a teenager. His father being the first to pass and his mother shortly after; a complete loss of will to live, he thought as through it all, their love was true -- even amidst a chemical haze. For the first time in his life, he found himself to be alone and the only habits he knew were bad ones and so history was only destined to repeat within the one legacy of their love that remained.

He held onto their family home for as long as possible, but again, keeping it was unrealistic and eventually, Zeke found himself cast out on the streets. He had to adapt to survive, but survival was his speciality, almost a gift that he had been born with -- the only real thing that he had ever been gifted. To survive, meant taking things from others, mostly from tourists or those unsuspecting who had too much in the first place and wouldn't miss the odd luxury here and there. He didn't remain in one place for too long, simply taking enough to keep his head above water and without making himself a wanted man.

Although he believed himself to be working undetected, the powers that be insisted otherwise and in his early twenties, he found himself recruited into a world of organised crime that even he hadn't realised existed. A lifetime of survival off of wits and willpower alone made him a credible asset and before he knew it, he'd traded in a lifetime of petty crime for organised heists, which suddenly made him very popular with the cops.

more tbd

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍'𝐒: ⭒ a self certified soft boi ⭒ a freshly triggered wolf, it was self defence your honor sofia

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

TBD

blithy flies swarm a swift pull trigger lift me off the ledge, lick the sticky liquor Don't let him in, don't let them call your number Won't you hold my hand as I go under? come a little closer same as the last megalomaniac cut my tongue, better watch your back

“You can tell me” Asher promised, releasing a steady breath as he continued to sign, “I can take it” and he could – or at least would for those he cared for. His stomach twisted as he saw Juri’s anguish, making him all the more determined to secure the unspoken details. 

He swallowed harshly as Juri began to explain, his features softening in an attempt to settle his own anger towards the situation. There would be a time and a place for that, but here and now wasn’t it. “You don’t have to do anything, okay? Just stay away from him. I’ll take care of it.” He always was better at fixing other people’s problems than his own; almost as though that gave him a purpose. He was an arguably disastrous, walking hero complex. "You don't have to worry."

As the weight of Juri's frame leant into his, Asher sighed softly, opening his arms and welcoming him closer. Where his words failed him, he vowed that his actions would not. Turning enough to reach for Juri's cheek, he wiped away the tears with his thumb, his eyes remaining soft as they communicated an unspoken promise. 'I've got you.'

Juri sighed. "There's so much I want to tell you about that day.But-" His hands hovered in the air. "I'm scared to give you every detail out of fear of hurting you." He signed the tear streaming down his face. The witch forcibly wiped the tear away.

Juri felt the hand and stared in surprise. He wanted to ask for hug and his body language leaned closer before leaning away, not enough to move the hand.

"Me." Juri signed before pointing to himself. The answer was unfortunately clear as day. "He mistakes his obession as love. He's so comfortable in his mind, he would never express remorse." Juri looked him dead in Asher's eye. "I don't know what I can do anymore."

Juri without thinking leaned into Asher's shoulder, the teats streaming uncontrobably. In the world of darkness Asher was the flashlight shining at the end of the tunnel."Thank you." He whispered. There was a ghost of a smile. "Be careful." Juri signed. "I don't know what hes capable of."

billie mikaelson ✦ zeraphine mondragón // (@burningmyths)

Their Vegas wedding-road trip had truly been revolutionary and Billie couldn’t understand why more people weren't boarding that train. The past few days had been filled with nothing but light, love and laughter, leaving room for little else and she was certain that she was going to be riding this wedding high for years to come. Her happiness was impenetrable, she was a married woman now; married to a man who saw her completely and for the first time in her life, she knew exactly who she was. Billie was a Mikaelson and it really didn't get better than that.

Letting herself into Zera’s home, the buzz that was radiating off of her was practically palpable and her enthusiasm a sincere joy to be around. Since their return, her first point of call was always destined to be Zeraphine, despite having kept her updated every step of the way. “Before you ask – of course I brought cake and photos. So many photos.”

As subtle as they could sometimes be, the signs would be there long before Billie would fall asleep, which meant that Briggs could anticipate what threatened to come as well as she could. Billie wasn’t, nor ever had been a heavy sleeper – having spent years training herself out of it – or more so, fearful of what would follow if she allowed it. Whenever the banshee was restless she was restless and before the premonitions came, she would often begin to dissociate, fiercely grappling at reality. Whilst Briggs hated not being able to prevent the episodes, she hated that he had to endure them with her and as selfish as it made her feel, she was so, so eternally grateful to him, for the fact that he refused to let her go through it alone. 

Her fingers were twisted into the bedsheets now, her forehead and chest dampened with beads of moisture as her breaths became labored. She tossed and turned and incoherent mumbles faded into whimpers as she experienced whatever cruel reality was destined to unfold. Whilst the premonitions didn't come every night, there was consolation within that thought – but it wasn’t a schedule that only tormented her when she was unconscious. It wasn’t uncommon for visions to plague her during the day either, but where death granted her no relief, her husband did. 

Her eyes began to flutter as she eventually came too, her throat raw; lungs aching from the intensity of the sound that had fled them. The room was spelled, protected from damage and yet another thing that she was eternally grateful for. Never once had he tried to change her – instead, he adapted himself to her reality – another reminder of just how unconditionally loved she was. Leaning into the kiss against her temple, a weary hand rose to rub against her throat and although she knew the words weren’t needed; never once asked for, it wouldn’t prevent her from whispering them, heavy as they were “i’m sorry.”  

Billie often wondered how much of her artistic talent was just that and not some manipulative tool for the banshee to use to communicate. Where her voice was lost, especially after the release of a wail, she could sketch everything that she saw – everything that she was living. As the sketchbook was silently handed over, she was reminded again that nobody would ever love her the way that he did, nor as well as he did. Even in moments like this, he could achieve the impossible and still make her smile.

Half of the time, she didn’t realise that she was doing it until the sketch was complete. Her hand gripping the pencil intently as some subconscious part of her mind began to draw and those drawings were most likely a therapist's worst nightmare. After a few silent moments, she glanced down at the page, releasing an unsteady breath as her body leaned into his for support; fatigued eyes then finding his again “--- that’s the church, right? St. Annes? Why do these places always have to be creepy?” A crease formed against her brow, her free hand resting against his thigh as she recalled her vision. “It’s a woman – a witch, I think. We don’t have much time" a sigh escaped her lips, reluctant to add "she doesn’t have much time.”

( @fragmcntedsouls | billie. )

He was aware of her always, even--and maybe especially--the way she stirred in the bed. With his enhanced hearing, he had started to pick up the subtleties in his wife right before a scream, usually waking him before the piercing sound ever could. He hated more than anything that there wasn't a cure for this he could find yet, no ring he could give her to let her rest with complete certainty she would not wake from nightmare or vision. All he could do was insist she stay, that there was no need to sleep separately to spare him anything. He would take the sleepless night over one without her.

The other thing he could do was, in moments like these, take action. Sitting up, he kept voice calm, pressed a kiss to her temple to comfort her, "what'd you see, baby?" Eyes darting to check sage was still burning, though the silence throughout the home was indicator enough it was working, he hopped out of bed to quickly grab her sketchbook and pencil. Flipping to an empty page blindly, he returned to her side and handed it to her within seconds as though his feet had barely touched their bedroom floor.

He may not be able to cure this, but what he could do was stop them from coming true. Her scream was a warning, and as he had always said: she wasn't death, she was life. She didn't have to find the bodies; she could save them. They were going to learn together how to do that.