#Brutus is her pet dog | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

deathsplaything · 3 months

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Auld Lang Syne || Alistair & Zofia

TIMING: New Year's Day LOCATION: Out and about, then at Alistair's apartment PARTIES: Alistair (@deathsplaything) & Zofia (@zofiawithaz) SUMMARY: Alistair and Brutus run into a familiar face, and Brutus refuses to leave Zofia's side. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

It was a somewhat off day. It had been a busy holiday season between being understaffed at the tea shop and random walk-ins from those who needed his other services. He had been at Melody’s house and decided to walk home with Brutus leading the way, tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, happy as could be. It was getting darker to the point that he didn’t need the sunglasses for light sensitivity but kept them on to hide his scars. It was New Year’s, and Alistair had resolved to walk around town more. Might as well start today, he mused.

Suddenly, Brutus took off, practically dragging the necromancer. “Brutus, what’s going on?” Alistair yelped, eyes comically wide behind his sunglasses. Brutus had caught sight of a familiar face and took it upon himself to drag his owner to greet Zofia. Brutus sat down before the woman, wagging his tail with great fervor.

Frowning, Alistair quickly took on his familiar’s eyes, only to see the vampire that had attacked that innocent man in the alley. Instantly, the necromancer was on edge. They hadn’t exactly ended on good terms. “Sorry about him. Once he sees someone he remembers fondly, he forgets that he’s working.” He hissed the last part down at Brutus, clearly annoyed. “I’m sorry, I’ll… be on my way.” He attempted to tug Brutus by the harness to get him back in order, but the dog let out a low whine. Brutus wasn’t going anywhere until he got what he wanted: pets. And treats. Lots of treats.

Alistair threw his head back with a groan, a bit melodramatic. “Brutus, you’re killing me. We’re halfway to home.” For his part, Alistair harbored no intentions of controlling the woman again. Hell, he’d hated doing it once. “Brutus, please.” The redhead begged his dog, who remained an immovable object. “Right, then.” Alistair dropped the harness from his hand and crossed his arms across his chest. “Guess I’m stuck here.”

New Years had been… Well, at the very least Zofia had thought it was nice to salute the past year with her middle finger and send it off straight to hell with whatever drinks and dancing Dance Macabre would provide her with, and whatever debauchery she could find in the arms of others in the wee hours of the new year. Now that the revelries of the past evening were in the rear view, it was… quiet. A peaceful silence that Zofia found herself uneasy in. There was a clean slate of a year ahead of her. A clean slate where things could finally begin to look up. Or perhaps, the universe would decide she could still fall further to absolute rock bottom.

She rubbed at her eyes, the previous night's makeup still smudged there as she walked back to the room. She wouldn’t call it home. Calling the room that Cassius had tucked away in his house for her felt wrong. She couldn’t explain why, exactly. Only that Zofia felt like it tasted like a lie. Bare feet softly padding along on the chilly concrete of the sidewalk, the vampire walked along with her heels in hand. Then she heard raised voices and stumbling.

Zofia tensed, eyes whipping around to find the source, to assess the threat- only to see the same sweet creature from weeks before ambling toward her, heedless of the necromancer he dragged along behind him. A tight smile crossed her lips as she took half a step back, prepared to flee into the night and get as far from the would-be puppet master as she could. But if she did that, Brutus would likely tangle the man in his leads, and literally drag him after the escaping vampire. She sighed, what little remained of her conscience telling her to stay put, and let the dog say hello.

“Apologies.” She muttered, noticing the way he tensed upon realizing who his guide had brought him to. Zofia let her hand hang down in front of the dog, hoping he’d catch her scent and be satisfied, and the pair could go on their way far, far away from her.

But Brutus sat firmly on the sidewalk, unwilling to follow instructions until he got what he wanted. The vampire sighed, stopping further to scratch the dog between his ears. “You shouldn’t come to play when you’re on the clock, kochanie, you know better.” Zofia said to the gentle beast. Her eyes shifted to the man, trying to assess if he’d trap her for the offense. “How do I get him to let you leave?”

———

Alistair gave a crooked smile as the dog wagged his tail, whacking it against his leg. “Nothing to apologize for.” He shot back, shaking his head. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be him. “Listen, I…” He trailed off, realizing she probably didn’t want to hear it. Still, it would at least get it off of his chest. “Having you around, my magic instinct felt like it was poised to go off at any moment on you. I didn’t want that.” He frowned, realizing that explaining himself was a hell of a lot harder than he thought it would be.

“Having you leave was the only thing keeping you safe from me.” He finally said, eyes falling downward as he realized what a danger he really posed to Zofia. “As for how to get him to go back into work mode, I really don’t know.” Alistair admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “He hasn’t done this before.” He further explained. Attempting to tug on Brutus’s harness to no avail.

“I think he just likes you that much.” He surmised with a shrug of his shoulders, hand rubbing his chin. “You can try and leave, but I can’t promise he won’t follow you like a baby duckling.” Alistair let out a tired sigh, not liking the idea of being stranded in place because his dog decided to go rogue. “How many treats did you feed him, anyway?” He then asked, brow raised in suspicion. “He’s acting like you hung the moon.”

She stood unnaturally still as he started to speak. There was no giant circle of carefully crafted spell work ready to ensnare her on the street. Zofia knew better than to think herself safe. Her skin prickled with the memory of invisible strings ensnaring her, pulling her back. Trapping her.

But it was an apology. Coiled muscles slowly relaxed as she studied him. Was this part of some game? Some ploy to lull her into security again? Brutus grinned a silly dog smile up at her. That didn’t seem to be the case, based on the pups reaction to her.

“And does that make me safe now?” The vampire asked, still prepared to run. Zofia couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t lie, but she hoped she could tell. She could at least believe that the working dog didn’t make it a habit to drag the man across streets to greet random people.

“If he follows me like a duckling, he’ll drag you into the street,” Zofia sighed, crouching to pet Brutus. She pressed a kiss to the dogs nose, which earned her a lick on the cheek. She let out a soft snort of laughter. “You are supposed to be working, kochanie.” The dog snuffled at her pockets in response, hearing his owner mention treats. “Not that many… he wasn’t working when I gave them to him.”

———-

The necromancer held up his hands in the air, no tricks or hidden things up his sleeves. “I promise you’re safe.” Alistair spoke, knowing that for some, those words held weight. He never spoke them lightly. Brutus gave a soft huff as the two spoke, satisfied with the kiss he received to his nose. There was something teething Alistair in place that he couldn’t quite name. Something he was afraid to address.

The truth was, Alistair could easily get Brutus to listen to his command. All he needed to do was speak in Scottish Gaelic and the dog would obey. But for whatever reason, he’d decided not to. “Well clearly he’d rather belong to you,” he huffed as he ran a hand through his red locks. “Would you like me to walk home without eyes?” He asked Brutus, who was content to lay in between the two.

The dog only licked Zofia’s hands in response, which caused the redhead to throw his hands up in the air after removing the glasses from his face, revealing the burn scar that covered his face. She’d already seen it once, there was no reason to hide it again. “I don’t make a habit of controlling undead that have a mind of their own.” He began to say, knowing he had to explain himself. “But you were killing that man, and I panicked. I was scared that if I interfered without it, you’d go for me next.” The amber eyes darted about, not knowing where to focus their unseeing gaze.

“Then you stepped into that circle, and I felt the control beginning to take its hold. I had to push you away. You weren’t safe.” Alistair bowed his head, eyes drifting to the ground beneath his feet. “I understand if you cannot trust me anymore. I wouldn’t trust me either. Nothing good comes from necromancy, trust me.” The latter half of his statement was more of a whisper of shame, he hated who he was. He hated that of all the areas of magic, he’d been forced into the one that controls the dead. He was no better than a monster himself. Realizing himself, Alistair threw his glasses back onto his face, the scar fading away.

He promised. She wanted to take him at his word. She really did. Zofia kept one eye on his hands, trying to track any movements and if they meant anything. Brutus seemed to trust her, at least. And the dog was easy to trust in kind. Animals were simple creatures to understand. Their motivations were clear. Kindness and food and comfort and safety. That was all they looked for. She could respect that- relate to that. Even if she didn’t trust as easy as the dog did.

A soft huff of laughter rumbled in her throat as Brutus licked her in response to Alistair’s question. Zofia tried to give the dog a disapproving frown, but the corner of her mouth drew up in a small smile. The smile faded quickly as Alistair resumed talking. “I thought he was someone else.” Her voice was cold, devoid of expression. She tugged her coat tighter across her shoulders. “What would have happened to me, if you hadn’t let me leave?”

_______

Thinking about her question for a long moment, Alistair frowned. “I’m not a hunter.” He answered simply. “I would have taken the man away from you and made a run for it.” It was the truth, he realized with a deep frown. “I’m in the business of helping people as much as I can. Not hurt more than I need to. Leave that to the professional idiots that hurt people for money and because they have a ‘calling.’”

Alistair didn’t think much of hunters. He didn’t think much of anyone, if he was honest. He only thought of those who needed healing and those who were past redemption. He found that most people weren’t past redemption. Zofia wasn’t. Once, the person who needed healing brought in their own sacrifice. It presented a lot of questions, but in the end, they’d paid him a lot to keep him quiet. So he’d done it. Having Melody with him made things easier. She wiped the minds of victims and clients alike.

“Brutus, I think Zofia would appreciate it if we left her alone.” Alistair said to his dog, who simply groaned and rolled onto his side. “Are you serious?” He spoke to his dog as he realized Brutus only got more comfortable. “Fine. Be that way.” Alistair waved a dismissive hand at his dog before taking a careful step forward.

“Professional idiots is putting it politely,” the vampire rubbed at her wrists absently. It had been months, but she still felt the ghost of her restraints there. “I took him to the hospital.” Zofia didn’t know what had happened to the man afterward. She hoped he had survived. He hadn’t deserved the fate that she’d reserved for those who had done her wrong.

Alistair attempted to get Brutus to go, but the dog seemed far too content with Zofia. She kept her hands away from the dog who snuggled up to her, hoping he’d decide to go back to work. He only cozied further up to the vampire, who watched as the necromancer attempted to find his way home without a guide.

Zofia frowned, clucking her tongue at Brutus, and pointed at Alistair. The dog had the good sense to look remorseful, but still was reluctant to rise. Zofia sighed and quietly walked toward the man, watching as Brutus followed her. She scooped up his lead, and placed it silently back into Alistair’s hand.

———

“Yes, you did. You proved me wrong, which I’m glad for.” Alistair responded with a nod of his head. “I’ve worked with slayers in the past. Some of them have their head on straight, some of them are overzealous killers with a bloodlust for people that just aren’t as human as they’d like.” He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly he was overall indifferent to hunters and monsters and the fighting that went on between them. “When it comes to who I take, I take those who don’t have redeeming qualities. I usually get them from monsters and hunters alike.”

Alistair paused for a moment, then let out a tired sigh. “Aidan Gallagher. He sustained severe bloodloss but managed to pull through.” He was silent again, then shook his head. “I checked for you.” He then added, realizing he should probably explain why he knew that information. “Don’t ask my sources, I won’t give them.”

As soon as Zofia began to move, Brutus groaned as he got up and began to trot along side her, but swiftly sat down again the second she stopped walking and Alistair continued. This caused the redhead to stop in his tracks after being kept firmly in place by the harness lead that had been placed into his hand. “Oh fer feck’s sake…” the necromancer grumbled out, finally having enough of his dog’s misbehavior. “Brutus. Leighis.” He commanded with a frown.

Brutus’s ears quickly swiveled at the command, and the dog begrudgingly followed the command. “Oh, stop your whining.” Alistair complained to the dog, who began to lead him in a circle, back directly in front of Zofia. “He’s led me right to you, hasn’t he?” Alistair asked with a raised brow. “Well. Seems like he’s dead set on making sure we be stuck together. I don’t think he’ll let you out of his sight, quite frankly.” Alistair narrowed his eyes, looking down to the ground. “You wouldn’t happen to want a dog, would you?” He asked, giving a threatening gaze in the direction of Brutus’s panting.

She nodded. Zofia could respect that. She could respect a moral code. She had been trying to implement one for herself with her new habits. If she was going to feed directly from the source, she found it easier to reconcile with sinking her teeth into those who were at the very least assholes. It was easier to forgive herself if the people she fed off of could stand to be knocked down a few pegs. And I’m doing so, she could try and make the world a little bit better, as penance for the unhinged monster she’d been those first few weeks, that beast that still lurked in the corners of her mind.

She stood as still as the grace at the sound of an unfamiliar name. She’d never heard of Aidan Gallagher before that moment, but Zofia knew exactly who he was. The woman let out a long hiss of a breath that she’d been holding since she’d realized what she’d done that night in the alley. “If I’d,” she began, pausing as she contemplated her words. “If he hadn’t pulled through, would you have come after me?” By his own set of rules, he should have. Alistair should say ‘yes, if he died, then you killed him, and you’d be fair game.’ “I won’t hold it against you, if the answer is yes.”

She watched, trying to stifle quiet laughter as the dog utterly rejected his duties and merely walked Alistair in a large circle, before Brutus sat right back down in front of Zofia. The dog looked up at her happily as though to say ‘Look, I’m back! It’s time to give me a treat!’ She tried to force her expression back into its usual, carefully neutral expression, but the dog’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as he grinned up at her goofily. “I think if he was stuck with me, he’d hate it fairly quickly. I can’t play outside during the day when all the other dogs are out”

It was abundantly clear, though, that Brutus was not leaving without Zofia. The vampire sighed, shaking her head. “I could walk with you, just until you get back to your flat. I think if you’re home and I disappear, he’ll forget about me quick enough. Especially if you give him one of those peanut butter biscuits.”

——————-

Zofia asked a good question, but Alistair knew his answer immediately. “No. I wouldn’t.” He was genuine, and his eyes looked directly at her, though they looked more through her than at her. “I know your story. I know that there’s a person in there that fights for freedom. The people I take, they’re not like that.” He dropped Brutus’s lead again, letting the dog snuggle into her side. “The people I take have no humanity left in them. They’re past redemption. You’re not past redemption. You’re scared and trying to survive. I don’t need to have eyes to see that.” He didn’t know why he was being so honest with her, why he felt a vulnerability with her. It was stupid, is what it was.

Alistair sighed, then nodded his head. “Yeah, fine. Walk with me.” He gestured for hand, knowing that she would be a far better lead than Brutus was being. “He’s usually so good. Maybe he sees you and forgets himself. The whole world doesn’t matter.” He let out a wistful sigh and took hold of Brutus’s lead, who began walking the second that he knew that Zofia was coming with.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again. “I really am sorry.” He spoke, his words cutting through the tense silence with a knife. “You have every right to be terrified of me. I could fully control you. But I don’t want to. I’m not… my family. They would control you. I’ve always been the black sheep in that regard. I hate it. I hate that I’m good at it.”

A soft laugh escaped her as the dog shrugged off his duties once more to cozy up to her. It made the words less jarring when she thought about them. She wasn’t past redemption yet. A day would come when humanity would slip like smoke between her fingers, and she’d be more beast than anything else. That day hadn’t come yet. She was still herself, still Zofia, no matter how changed that woman was to past iterations of herself.

She looked down at the hand he extended to her. Recent history told her not to accept it. She shouldn’t let anything that could have power over her close enough to have a conversation, much less close enough to touch. But the New Year's celebrations had been a swath of bad decisions on Zofia’s part. Drinks, and kissing people she’d met moments before, and finding herself in the bed of a perfect stranger who could have easily been a threat to her. Holding a necromancer’s hand as she guided him home seemed relatively innocent compared to those choices. She hesitantly slipped her hand in his.

She snorted, stooping to scratch the dog’s head. “I used to have that effect on people, but I’m certain it’s the first time I’ve had a dog enamored with me.” She continued on in silence, following the path she vaguely recalled to his apartment. Zofia mulled the words over. “You’re hardly the most frightening thing I’ve encountered.” She decided, choosing not to elaborate further. “You have a conscience. Not everyone does.”

———-

A smile broke across Alistair’s face at being told he wasn’t frightening. “I don’t know, my face is pretty terrifying.” He retorted with a soft chuckle. “My conscience is the reason I’m not controlling an army of the dead.” He wrinkled his nose at the idea, then shook his head. “Like what would I even do with that many dead people? What am I waging war against?” He rolled his eyes as they walked hand in hand, finding it easy to trust that she was leading him to the correct destination.

Brutus was watching the pair as he walked alongside Alistair, almost as if he were trying to decipher a puzzle he didn’t quite understand. “Do anything fun for New Year’s Eve?” He asked to fill the silence. “More fun than playing Monopoly with a 12 year old? And letting said 12 year old kick your ass with the dog?” He wiggled his brows as he turned his head in her direction.

She snorted a laugh at his comment about his own appearance . “You really must be blind if you think that’s true.” Zofia thought a moment as they strolled along. “I’m not certain exactly. You would probably be well prepared for a history themed trivia night with an army of undead at your disposal.” The vampire quipped with a wry smile.

The smile turned to a smirk at his questions of how she’d spent her New Year’s. They’d been fun enough, she thought. There definitely would have been worse things to do to ring in the New Year. “Just went out and pretended I was alive with some of my very dear, closest people I have never met before and will likely never see again. Revelries extended through the day.” Her eyebrow ticked up. “How badly did you lose?”

——-

The necromancer scoffed at her comment, acting affronted. “You doubted my blindness for a second? For shame.” Alistair admonished the woman by swatting her arm before taking her hand again. He then thought of the idea of a team entirely comprised of undead from different periods of history. “You know, you could be onto something there. But I think you should make the trivia team, not me. I think most undead would run at the sight of me.”

Alistair smirked at the idea of going about celebrating New Year’s eve in such a way. “You know, I did that a lot in my younger years.” He told her with a soft chuckle. “When you’re single and eternally youthful, you might as well, right?” He shrugged his shoulder at her question. “Well the little bastard cheated, so of course, I went bankrupt.” He told her with a wink. “Nah, I let ‘im win. Didn’t buy any of the properties I should have. Let him have it.”

As they walked into Oldtown, Alistair became familiar with the sounds, even in the middle of the night. “You want to come up?” He asked before he could realize what he was asking. “I mean, if you want to.” He cleared his throat, letting go of her hand as he made for the door of his apartment. “No pressure.”

“I’d be horrible on a historical trivia team.” She laughed. “I lived it, and I probably could do about as well as your run of the mill university student taking a history class as a gen ed.” Zofia laughed. “Though I did have fun with it. Once on a dare I pretended to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia - back when absolutely everyone was convinced they’d found her… poor thing.”

She made a noise in feigned offense and rolled her eyes. “A lady never kisses and tells.” The vampire reached down to pet Brutus once again, as though he would come to her defense. “But I do agree. Always have. Perks of being young and newly dead with a bunch of open minded French vampires who are far older than you ever thought possible.” Enjoy life for all it has to offer you. The voice whispered to her on the wind, and she shivered, pulling her coat tighter against her to shield from the memories of those she’d lost.

Zofia raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me up for a night cap?” She was keenly aware of what had happened the last time she entered that apartment. She hesitated to do so again. But the necromancer seemed different this time, and she’d be lying to say she wasn’t intrigued.

——-

“You’d be better at it than me, and that’s what counts.” Alistair quipped back with a nod of his head. “I wasn’t exactly schooled in traditional things. Parents were more concerned about making sure my siblings and myself were the best of the best at everything. Extreme homeschooling with a dash of actual fun.” He made a face at the memory. Gods, his parents were awful. “Some people shouldn’t be parents,” Alistair spoke sourly.

As she questioned him, Alistair decided that was absolutely fair of her. “I guess I did.” He replied as he pulled a face. “Is that a bad thing? You don’t have to. I understand if you didn’t want to.” He shrugged his shoulder as Brutus sat at the door to the elevator. “Though if I’m honest, I don’t think he will let me get up there without you. Seriously, you sure you don’t want a dog?” He raised his brows, pointing down at Brutus, who was whining. “Honestly, it’s like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him,” Alistair complained as he abandoned his dog and made for the elevator. “You feed a guy for three years, and suddenly, he turns his sights on the pretty woman that enters his home. Unbelievable.”

Zofia paused, thinking about it. Was it a bad idea? Most likely. Especially since there was a giant magical circle that could spell out her certain doom hiding beneath his living room carpet. Or at least that was what she assumed the spell did. She was quite certain she did not want to find out.

But the lingering sentiment of fuck it, it’s a new year danced around her mind. So what if the end of the last year had been horrifically, devastatingly bad. This one was off to a riot of a start. “Well he would be the only one to consider me that.” Zofia patted her leg in a motion for the dog to follow her. “He’s your dog. I don’t think he’d really enjoy life with me, anyhow.”

———

As they entered the elevator, Alistair smirked and pressed the button for his floor. “Nonsense,” he responded with a wave of his hand. “You party and go out and find a bite to eat, you give good treats. What’s not to love?” He reached down and ruffled Brutus’s head. “Isn’t that right?” He told his dog sweetly, earning a tail wag that whacked against Zofia’s leg. “That’s what I thought.”

He fished the keys out of his pocket and inserted them into the lock, then opened the door to his apartment. “Make yourself at home,” Alistair told her before removing Brutus from his harness and putting it on the wall hook. Brutus, for his part, continued to look up at Zofia with his wide brown eyes, waiting for her to walk into the apartment and not back out his life. Curious, Alistair glanced through his eyes and then rolled his own in reaction to seeing that his dog was staring up at Zofia like she hung the moon.

“She’s not going anywhere for a second, you big softie.” Alistair groaned to his dog as he headed for the makeshift bar he kept on the side of the room. “What can I interest you in?” He asked, pointing to his array. It wasn’t much, but there were a few whiskeys and bottles of red wines.

Zofia snorted, shaking her head. “The ‘bite to eat’ would be the complaining party.” Brutus’s wagging tail seemed to dismiss the argument, making it abundantly clear that the dog cared only for the vampires ability to give him treats and head scritches.

She clung to the edges of the room. She didn’t want to get any closer than she had to to the carpet she knew hid the spell circle. Zofia dropped down into a squat to be on the same level as Brutus. “Now, you have to be a good boy and listen to him. Or I won’t visit. Or bring you treats.” She scolded, stroking the dog’s nose. “He depends on you. You can’t follow me around, even if it’s very cute.”

She glanced to where Alistair had gone, her eyes flickering over his assortment of bottles. “Whatever you’re having sounds good.”

———-

Pulling out two short glasses, Alistair poured whiskey into them and then picked one up and held it out in front of him. “Here,” he spoke to the woman who was clearly occupied with admonishing his guide dog in the most unscolding tone the spellcaster had ever heard. “I dunnae think that tone of voice’ll get through to him.” Alistair remarked before picking up his own glass and taking a drink from it.

“So how's it been? Keeping out of trouble?” He asked, free hand crossed across his chest. “Reindeer break into your dwelling space yet?” He took another sip, thinking to the chaos that was unfolding on the streets. At least it wasn’t all goo anymore, however.

Alistair snapped a finger, then pointed in the direction of Brutus’s dog bed. “Theirig dha do leabaidh,” the man commanded with raised brows, which caused the dog to let out a soft huff before tromping toward his bed with a wagging tail. “That’ll teach you to misbehave,” he grumped with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s not my fault he’s sweet. I can’t yell at him. People are much easier to yell at.” She said, moving to take the glass of whiskey from him. Zofia took a sip, letting the liquor burn down her throat.

“I’ve not eaten anyone, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Zofia sighed, tapping a nail against the lip of her glass. “And no, not to my knowledge. But I’m hardly there anyhow, so perhaps a reindeer has moved in in my absence. Is that a common issue people are having? Reindeer trespassing?”

She watched Brutus walk away to his bed with a begrudging huff. “What did you say to him. The poor thing looks offended.” She laughed as the dog stared across the room, forlorn.

_______

Alistair took the sunglasses off and rolled his eyes. “Hm,” he hummed in response. “Sweet until he’s faced with something that pisses him off. Like walking away from you without trouble, apparently.” He finished the glass and put it down into the bar cart before walking over to the couch and sitting down.

“Hmph. I don’t care what you do with your dietary needs.” Alistair waved a hand dismissively, crossing a leg over the other, leaning into the cushions. “Yeah, reindeer everywhere. Luckily none came to the shop yet, but they aren’t leaving so there’s always time.” He raised his brows and widened his eyes. It was only a matter of time from the way he saw things.

“I told him to go to bed!” He responded with a laugh. “He misbehaves, he gets sent to bed. He knows the rules.” He sat there for a moment before smirking. “Isn’t that right, Bruce?” He called out to the dog, which earned a sharp bark in response. “See? He knows.”

“Sorry Brutus, I don’t think you can keep me,” she called to the dog from her spot, leaning back against the door frame. She huffed, rolling her eyes. She didn’t quite buy that line. “No? Your shiny spell circle under the carpet says otherwise.” Zofia understood she was a threat. Even if she had no real fighting training, she was still strong. Still willing to fight like a caged animal if she needed to. He needed his fancy spells to ensure she didn’t decide she liked the idea of him bloodless better.

“Maybe the fact that you have a dog is deterrent enough for the reindeer. Maybe Brutus has them spooked.” She shrugged, taking another sip of the whiskey. “And I think he was rather well behaved for going to his bed. Maybe if you gave him a treat for doing so, he’d stop following me about.”

——-

The spellcaster slunk into his seat a bit more, shrugging his shoulders. “I care when you kill people without realizing it. That’s when I intervene.” Alistair tapped the spell circle with his foot. “Doesn’t work without me putting things down and doing magic. Just a symbol on the ground right now. You’re perfectly fine.” He let his gaze look in the direction of the woman’s voice. “Besides, I’m not in the mood or capacity to cast any spells. A bitch is tired.” He nodded his head, as if that were going to dispel the fear that burrowed in the vampire.

“Oh yeah, nothing screams scary quite like Brutus.” Alistair muttered with a roll of his eyes. “He doesn’t get a treat for every basic task or else he expects it. Besides, he gets a big treat each night before I fuck off to bed. He’ll get one later.” He shrugged a shoulder, leaning onto the armrest of the sofa. “Maybe he wants you to be his new owner.” He turned over his shoulder. “Oi! Ye wan’ a new partner?” He asked Brutus who simply tilted his head in curiosity.

Alistair turned his head back forward. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can leave at any time. I’m not keeping you here.” He felt the need to let her know that he wasn’t a danger. He hated that his existence set off alarm bells for people. Not just undead, but the living as well. He was a necromancer, he went against the natural order of things. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve scared someone off,” he muttered under his breath.

Zofia sucked on her teeth, looking down at her hands. He may have had a point. For all the people she’d drank from, all the blood she’d spilt since coming home to Wicked’s Rest, mistaking a man for someone he wasn’t sat the worst with her. The gnawing guilt was slightly eased with the knowledge that the man had survived the night.

Her mouth ticked ever so slightly at the way he decided to describe his being tired. She stepped away from the wall, still giving herself more than enough room for an easy out. “I still say he’d hate the living arrangements with me. He’d have to be nocturnal.”

Her eyes flickered back to the door, to the window. To each exit she’d seen and evaluated the speed that she could get to them at. “Please, don’t take it personally,” she said quietly. “I cannot think of many people I don’t look for exit strategies around. Regardless of whether or not they have the power to control me.”

—————

Alistair sat with the information for a long moment, letting the silence fester. “Always looking for an escape sounds… exhausting.” He spoke quietly, his gaze looking straight ahead of him. “I’m sorry that you feel the need to live life that way. You deserve better.” Usually he didn’t concern himself with people’s problems. Usually, he looked the other way. So why was she different all of a sudden? The question gnawed at the threads of his consciousness.

“I swear I’ll never do it again.” Alistair spoke, head turning toward her. “I swear that, unless you turn into an uncontrollable vampiric spawn, I will never use that power against you ever again.” He held up a hand, as if he were swearing an oath. “I know my words mean very little, but I mean the truth when I say it.”

Zofia shrugged. She’d quickly grown accustomed to living looking over her shoulder. She figured it was better to be exhausted than to be caged again. Or worse. “It suits my needs for now.” Was all she said.

She took one last sip of her whiskey before moving across the space to place the empty glass in his sink. The vampire walked back toward the door, studying him and his raised hand. “Well,” she sighed. “I will just have to hold you to it.” Zofia’s hand rested on the door knob. “So I can consider you a friend now? Or at the very least an acquaintance who won’t stab me unprovoked.”

______

Thinking about the idea of having a friend outside of Melody alarmed Alistair. Sure, he talked to people and formed connections, but assigning the word friend to it was dangerous. It opened him up to getting hurt later. He stayed silent for another moment before nodding his head once.

“Friends.” He echoed with a crooked smile. “And if you’re ever in need of my services, you know where to find me.” He waved his arms around the apartment. “Let’s just hope you don’t need them.” He then added, frowning. The last thing he needed was someone he knew getting hurt.

He heard the tug of the door knob, then smirked. “You’re free to go.” He told her, amused that she was so eager to flee. He couldn’t blame her. He’d controlled her once, after all. “And I don’t stab people. Not unless it’s ritualistic, of course.”

“Friends it is,” she said softly. “I don’t plan on needing your services anytime soon. I don’t have time to get hurt again.” It wasn’t a joke. Not really. But humor colored her voice anyway. Her hand slipped onto the door handle, and she quietly turned the knob. Zofia glanced back at Alistair who seemed entertain by her exit plans. “Ah. Well… that’s comforting, I suppose.” She said, pulling the door open. “Happy New Year, Alistair… Bye Brutus.” The vampire called, before slipping out into the night.

#Aulde Lang Syne #threads #zofiawithaz

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mnstcrsiiistcrs · 2 months

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The Abadeer Sisters and their pets

Marceline

Marceline only has one pet and that's her zombie poodle Schwabl. After finding him in a half sunken mall she was hiding out in, he became her traveling companion for her time as a vampire hunter. Schwabl is a very chill dog that can be constantly seen chilling around Marceline's house.

Sarah

As a child, Sarah had a Nightospherian Fly Trap that she named Lydia. Although the plant was small, Sarah loved Lydia very deeply. Sadly, Lydia was accidentally killed by one of the servant when they were sent in to clean Sarah and Marsha's bedroom.

A few hundred years later, Marsha came home and gifted Sarah with a tiny sprout that she had gotten from a merchant from Wizard City. The plant grew into a giant and carnivous plant that Sarah named Seymour.

Aside from Seymour, there is also Azrael, an intelligent owl. In addition, Sarah also raises butterflies as a hobby.

Marsha

Oh Marsha, Marsha, Marsha...where do we begin with you?

As a child, Marsha's only real pet was a albino bunny (very rare in the Nightosphere) named Fluffy who she got as a birthday present. Marsha loved Fluffy and when he died, he was her first venture into reanimation.

Aside from Fluffy, Marsha also had a few animal friends throughout her childhood. The first was Mr. Black, a black soulful retriever that lived most of his life as a stray. For the entirety of her childhood, Mr. Black would hang out by the gate of the Abadeer manor, often being visited by Marsha and Sarah who played with him from the other side. It wasn't until hundreds of years later that Marsha was finally able to take in Mr. Black after he found himself in Ooo with Hazelnut, a nighthound pup that he took under his wing.

Then there was the first Mr. Squeakers, a mouse Marsha had found and was secretly keeping in a small box. Sarah was the only one who knew how Marsha was keeping and feeding Mr. Squeakers up until he died and a few days after that, their father found the dead mouse and had it thrown away. During her early teens, Marsha would befriend Ross, a stray nightospherian mountain hound. Marsha would hang in the back alley of Grizz Bear's pizza with her pie where she would feed her crusts to Ross. She always wanted to bring him home but never could until hundreds of years later when he was forced into the surface world.

Present day, Marsha loves to foster animals. From mice to bears, she's constantly bringing either orphaned or injured animals home to nurse back to health. She especially loves to adopt dogs and/or nighthounds. For sake of simplicity, I'll stick to her original pack:

First, there's Victor & Charlie, a two-headed nighthound. While on a run, Marsha found them as a two-headed puppy in a food pantry. Despite her initial reservations, Marsha brought the pup along with her, Sarah and the very first Spot, who was a puppy belonging to a group of humans Sarah and Marsha were hanging with and one of the only survivors of that group's later massacre. Spot would end up being injured badly and ultimately mercy killed by Marsha. Next, there's Autumn and Apple, who are siblings from the same liter. After losing their mother and siblings to Oozers, they wanted around until they came across Marsha and Sarah, who took them in. Marsha especially became fond of Autumn and when the pup was killed by a vampire, she turned to necromancy once again. This decision also lead her to using dark magic to keep Apple alive after Autumn attacked her but Marsha doesn't regret her decision. Next, there's Brutus and Butch (not Marsha's choice in names), were initially owned by a demon who was forced into the surface world. After Marsha was kidnapped by their owner and their owner was ultimately killed by Marsha, Marsha took in the dogs. While Butch warmed up to Marsha, Brutus barely tolerated Marsha but has eventually warmed up to her a little bit. Finally, there's Leigh. As a puppy, she was abandoned in a run-down cabin shortly before Marsha and Sarah found shelter in that cabin during a harsh winter storm. Leigh joined the pack and has since grown from a small-ish puppy to a huge, lazy, slobbery, constantly-shedding and easygoing sin bernard.

Aside from her dogs, Marsha has her other pets as well. To date, Marsha has three witch familiars: Neil, a snarky but loyal talking cat, Roth, an intelligent raven, and Blackberry, a shapeshifting familar that was rejected for starting off as a bunny but was saved by Marsha (his form and power will grow with Marsha's). For her other pets, Marsha has 4 other birds: Apollo, a pheonix chick, Chickie and Pipsqueak, a pair of canaries, and Poe, another raven. She also has a python name Cornelius, two goldfish named Dory and Nemo, two rats named Gus and Doug, a nightospherian ferret named Jammy, a nightospherian iguana named Rex, two ferrets named Swifty and Skitters, a hedgehog named Needlemouse, 6 other rabbits in addition to Fluffy (Baxter, Bun, Cinnabun, Fiver and March), and 4 mice (Basil, Ms. Nibbler, Minnie and Mr. Sqeakers XV)

#[ sarah // hc ]#[ marsha // hc ]#[ marceline // hc ]#long post tw

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zofiawithaz · 5 months

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Stranger

Location: Streets of Wicked's Rest/The Sugar Pot Timing: Sunday Evening Parties: Alistair (@deathsplaything) & Zofia (@zofiawithaz) Summary: Zofia is out and sees a cute dog out for a walk. Apparently following people to pet their dog isn't standard behavior. Alistair calls her out on being an absolute weirdo. The two talk for a while, and Alistair takes pity on Zofia and gives the weird stray cat vampire a place to clean up, a new set of clothes, and a spot to rest her head. Most importantly, Zofia gets to pet a dog. As a treat. Content warning: none

Every night before turning in, Alistair walked Brutus. Not as a guide dog but as a normal dog. Well, as normal as a familiar can get, anyway. Brutus was off duty, which meant he was free to sniff at the ground to his heart's content. Alistair had a mobility cane in his other hand to ensure he wouldn’t ram himself into anything. It wasn’t the most graceful walk, but got the job done. Brutus knew better than to tug on his lead, making the walk all the smoother for Alistair. As they walked through the streets of Oldtown, Alistair couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched. Occasionally, he would stop and cast a spell, causing Brutus’s head to swivel around as he used his familiar’s eyes to see the world around him. A woman stalked behind him, peeking behind buildings and slinking into shadows. This wasn’t good.

Deciding he had no choice, he stopped walking, causing Brutus to go into a patch of grass and sniff around. “I know you’re following me,” Alistair’s voice cut through the nighttime air like a blade. He swung his cane around him, and it made contact with someone’s foot. “Ah, so you decided to come out and play.” He gave a terse smile, bringing his cane up so he could rest his chin on the hilt of it. “So what is it? Serial killer? Vampire? Zombie? Fae gone wild?” He asked, knowing that she wasn’t merely following him. He’d been around the supernatural block enough times to know when he was being hunted. “So what’s it to be? We talk like civilized folk, or you tear me limb from limb.” He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Or you try to sell me something.”

___________________________________________________________

It had been a miserable few days.

Well, in reality she’d been having a miserable few days since the middle of summer, but Zofia wasn’t about to get into the semantics of it with herself. Instead she chased distractions. Things to remind her while she might not have a pulse, she was still alive. Perhaps more alone than she’d previously been. But perhaps alone wasn’t entirely terrible. Perhaps. Perhaps it would just take time to get used to being alone. While she waited for some sign from the universe that she’d acclimated to alone-ness, she threw herself at the world with reckless abandon.

Of course, throwing herself at life with open arms didn’t mean that life swept her up in a loving embrace. No, no, instead she was reminded how irritating and harsh things could be. A car had driven too close to a puddle and sloshed a heap of icy water onto her. Her drifting from bar to club to bar in the hopes that it would spark something only sparked the urge to bite a man in retaliation for bumping into her and refusing to apologize. Leaving him semi conscious in an alley missing a pint or so of blood seemed like a good way to teach him a lesson. Wiping the blood from her lips as she walked away, something across the street caught her eye. And for the first time in quite some time, a feeling she was almost certain could be described as ‘joy’ crept up on her.

Across the street there was a dog.

Well. A man, and a dog. But the dog was the important bit. The dog happily led the way, tail wagging along. Having nothing better to do with her night, she decided to follow them. She frowned, realizing the hour. Most people probably wouldn’t walk up to a stranger in the dead of night asking to pet their dog, so she decided she ought not to. After all, she was a monster, but that didn’t have to make her an asshole. Did following a dog from a distance count as being an asshole?

Walking along, she tucked herself in shadows and alleys and watched as the dog led the way. And then all at once, they stopped moving.

Zofia’s brow rose as the cane around until it met her foot. Well this would prove entertaining, at least. A laugh rumbled in her throat like a cats purr. “Why must I be something that goes bump in the night?” She asked, amused. She wouldn’t deny it. “What if I just happened to be heading the same way?”

A roll of her eyes and she walked a few steps ahead, continuing along the path he’d been on before turning back to look at him. “Tearing people limb from limb isn’t my specialty. We can talk.” She wasn’t entirely certain she counted as civilized any more, but he didn’t need to know that part. “I could sell you something if you want. What would you want? If I were selling something?”

___________________________________________________________

Sensing no real danger, Brutus walked over to Zofia, sniffed her hand, and then licked it. Feeling the lead moving toward the figure, Alistair let out a sigh. It seemed like he would lose this battle; his dog had decided for him. “Well, if you’re not a creature of the night, perhaps you’re just a weirdo?” He spoke, the end of the sentence becoming more of a question than a statement. “His name is Brutus.” He added, bringing his cane back down and swiveling it until it gently hit Brutus’s hind legs. “He’s usually a guide dog, but he knows he’s not working right now. Night off and all that.”

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the figure before him made him uneasy. Something about how her tone sounded, as if she were perpetually on the edge. On the edge of what, he hadn’t a clue. He didn’t bother to give his name, didn’t bother to inquire about hers. He didn’t make friends, even if people like Milo would beg to differ. “Jus’ sayin’, mos’ people don’ go sneakin’ ‘round to catch glimpses of another’s dog. At night. Where no one is around to see.” His Scottish accent slipped in the more uneasy he grew, giving himself away undoubtedly.

The woman’s voice was a purr but also had an edge. Truly catlike, like a large cat preparing to strike. To say his attention wasn’t drawn would be to tell a lie. He was curious. He wanted to know more. Instead, Alistair answered her question. “Well, if there are no limitations to what you sold, it would probably be for magical eyeglasses that make me see again.” He pulled the sunglasses off his face, revealing hazel brown eyes that didn’t meet her gaze. A burn scar extended over his right eye, extending over the bridge of his nose. There was a reason (besides the light sensitivity) that he kept his sunglasses on. “What about you? What would you want?”

___________________________________________________________

The dog came over to lick her hand, and all at once Zofia decided her streak of miserable days was at an end. She sank down to crouch to the dogs height, gently scratching between his floppy ears. “Kto jest dobrym, małym szczeniakiem? Czy to ty? Myślę, że to jest!” She cooed, a broad grin taking over her expression. For once in quite some time, she’d gotten precisely what she wanted. Even if it was something as silly as petting a dog. Maybe that was the key. She could set impossibly low expectations, and be delighted when they were met.

“Why are the two things mutually exclusive? Could I not be both? Or neither?” She asked, looking up at the stranger, taking him in. Tall. Red hair. An accent peaking through his words. And clearly in the know about the things that prowled the streets of Wicked’s Rest. Who was he? Or better yet, what was he? There was definitely a pulse there, so he wasn’t undead… curious.

“Oh, he’s a professional!” She continued to pet the dog, wishing she’d had some magical foresight to bring dog treats. “Hello Brutus, it’s good to meet you. I’m Zofia. You’re a handsome young man, aren’t you? So well behaved.” She talked to the dog, perfectly content in her one sided conversation.

There was that accent of his, creeping through. Scottish, from the sound of it. “Maybe I’m just a night owl, mister…?” She trailed off, hoping he’d fill in the blank place where his name should go.

He removed his glasses and the puzzle pieces slotted together. They were nice eyes, focused on nothing just over her shoulder. And the scar… there was a story there. Her hand paused on her wrist, absently rubbing where they’d been bound for months. Zofia’s mouth tugged down into a frown as she thought. “That’s a good question. I’m not so sure anymore.”

___________________________________________________________

Brutus began wildly wagging his tail, knocking Alistair’s cane right out of his hand from the force of it. “Oh, good goin’, Brutus.” He complained, sinking onto his knees to feel around for where the cane had gone, realizing it was nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he raised his head toward the woman speaking a language he didn’t understand. “Would you mind helping me out?” He asked– a small test to see if she truly wasn’t going to kill him.

“Oh yeah, perfectly well-behaved until he takes out my only way of seeing without him.” He grumbled to himself, standing back up, feeling a bit stranded. “Alistair,” he spoke when her statement trailed off into a question, reaching for a name. “Well, as you’re now my dog’s new best friend, you should probably introduce yourself to him. Only seems fair.” He sighed, gripping Brutus’s leash a little tighter, knowing that if it came to it, Brutus would get him home.

He listened to the woman’s voice become quieter as if it were elsewhere. She didn’t know. Brutus laid down on the sidewalk, tail still wagging about, happy as could be. “It’s alright not to know.” He said, shrugging his shoulder with his head tilted toward it. “Some of the most interesting people I know have no idea what they’re doing with their lives.” He paused, remembering after he lost his sight. He had no idea what to do with his life. His family had already cast him out for leaving. “I guess I’m saying it’s okay to be lost. Just remember to find yourself again after a while.”

___________________________________________________________

A clatter and a swear and Zofia watched the cane roll just out of the man’s reach. She reached a hand out to stop it from rolling off into the road. At his request, she guided it back to his waiting hand. Brutus’s happy tail kept on wagging, but she kept a closer eye, making sure his tail didn’t send the man’s cane skittering off again.

“Well you can blame me for that. He’s too sweet to get the blame. Is he always this friendly?” Maybe she should get a dog. Not this dog, obviously. She couldn’t steal a guide dog. If it had been a regular dog, she might have at least entertained the thought. “Oh I’m his best friend now? That was easy.” She was a dog’s best friend now. At least she was someone’s best friend. The dog probably wasn’t scared it would become a midnight snack. “Lovely to meet you, Alistair. I’m Zofia. Zofia Kowalska.” Gods, how long had it been since that name had past her lips in an introduction? It felt like lifetimes. But it felt right for now. Sofie simply didn’t fit any longer.

It took a minute for her mind to register he’d spoken, a minute longer for her mind to interpret what she’d heard. Echoes of “been to hell but you’re back now” skittered through her mind, interrupting Alistair’s words. She realized her face had gone slack. Zofia couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit grateful the man couldn’t see her with her void expression. “Well I know tonight I wanted to pet Brutus. So today I got what I wanted. I’ll circle back to you once I figure out what I’d like to buy.”

___________________________________________________________

He nodded his head in thanks as the cane was returned into his hand. “I appreciate it,” he spoke as he decided to choose his words carefully. One never knew in a town such as this. Brutus made no move to jump on her, but his excitement was palpable. “You know, he always makes a habit of going for the people that need him most,” Alistair remarked with a knowing smile. “I run The Sugar Pot. I live above it if you ever need an ear.” He hadn’t a clue why he was telling her this, but something in him felt a need to help.

“Zofia,” he spoke aloud, feeling the word out on his tongue. “A pleasure to meet you, now that I know you’re not going to eat or trap me and take me somewhere sinister.” Alistair screwed his mouth shut, realizing that’s what he did to people. For some reason, he felt a kindred spirit in Zofia. “Also, I don’t think Brutus would like it very much if he never got to see you again.” What was he saying? See this woman again? He didn’t make a habit of forming relationships with anyone anymore, but here he was, suddenly turning a new leaf. His therapist would be proud; he couldn’t help but think to himself.

The dog watched Zofia curiously when she didn’t respond right away, and it caused Alistair to shift uncomfortably. He could see now that she wasn’t alright now that he was seeing her through the gaze of his familiar. “You know,” he began to say. “If you need someone to talk to about anything going on, I… I’m just walking my dog right now. I don’t have any other plans.” Well, he’d set it. It was out in the open whether she wanted to accept his invitation. Part of him was hoping she wouldn’t, but it was too late for that now.

___________________________________________________________

She was reminded of another time. Of hands she’d held out to people like her. Perhaps she’d earned some kindness from all the kindness she’d given. Perhaps she’d wasted that kindness in recent days.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, plink, plink, plink.

Zofia flinched away from the phantom noise, focusing on the soft fur beneath her hand. “Don’t they say animals are like their owners?” She asked, looking back to the man. “He looks for people that need kindness. And here you are offering strangers an ear.”

She snickered, scratching the spot between his ears that Brutus seemed particularly fond of. “I won’t eat you.” The smirk was evident in her voice. “But if you ask very nicely I might bite.” She teased. “Well I can’t possibly deprive myself of my dear new friend Brutus. What is The Sugar Pot? Coffee? Tea? A bakery?”

She stooped over to press a kiss to the dogs snout. He really was a good dog. “Alistair, mój przyjaciel, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It’s a long, long story.”

___________________________________________________________

The dog continued to watch Zofia, and suddenly, Brutus looked away, back in his own control. Alistair walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t know exactly what she had gone through, but he could hazard a guess that it wasn’t anything good. His voice was soft and understanding. “No one was around to listen to my shit when I needed it. I try to be there for others as a result.” He explained, then let the hand drop. “Come on, I’ll show you the way to the shop.” He spoke as he started to walk in the direction of his store, Brutus happy to continue on his walk toward home.

“It’s a tea shop. I can make you something quick if you’d like. We’re closed at this point, but. I make the rules when it’s my own business, you know? Come on, on me.” As they walked, Alistair listened to the woman's footsteps behind him, curious about her story. In truth, he was about just as nosy as he was worried about her mental status. No one got into helping people without being a little nosy.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” Alistair joked as Brutus turned toward the shop door. “I don’t make a habit of picking stray people up off the street, by the way.” He felt the need to add. His cane hit the door of the shop, and then he brought his hands up to the door handle, a key appearing in his hand, and he unlocked the door as easily as he could. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging around on the streets, by the way.” He had seen her clothes. They were tattered and smelled. He could have smelled her coming, if nothing else. “Where’s home?” He asked, a hint of worry in his tone.

___________________________________________________________

She startled as his hand found her shoulder. Zofia didn’t think he’d be able to find her so quickly. But she’d heard things over the years about how losing senses could heighten others. Maybe he just happened to have a lucky guess. Alistair didn’t wait for her to respond before continuing on his way home. The vampire paused and watched him curiously. It would be all too easy for her to use his kindness against him. Take advantage of his lack of sight and sink her teeth in when he wasn’t expecting it. But he invited her along. She rose to her full height and followed him.

It was strange to be on the receiving end of this. How many times had Sofie DuPont herded those down on their luck into her care? Zofia tried not to think about it, focusing instead on matching the pace Brutus trotted at, and keeping her senses peeled for any creature that might take advantage of a blind man on the street at night. Or any hunters looking to finish what they’d started…

“You don’t have to do all this, really.” She said following a few steps behind as he led her up the stairs to his shop. A cup of tea sounded like a luxury though, one she hadn’t savored in far too long. “But you’ll make the exception for people your dog likes?” The humor in Zofia’s voice died quickly when he asked about her lodging situation. Cassius hadn’t lied. Her apartment had been repossessed, and all her things, her centuries worth of belongings were just. Gone. Her livelihood, her memories. Of course Cassius had managed to save some, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to go the them to retrieve them. And it wasn’t as though she had anyplace to stay at the moment. She was adrift. The noise crept in around the edges, and she let out a soft, crazed laugh. “It’s complicated. It was Poland. It was Paris. It was everywhere. And then it was a little apartment in nightfall grove… and now something new is in order.”

___________________________________________________________

“I know I don’t have to,” he answered as he shut the door behind them. The lights were off, and he didn’t bother to turn them on. An old habit. “But I’m doing it anyway.” The tables with chairs had been turned over onto the tables, signifying a closed shop. Every shelf had been fully restocked before close, rows of spices and herbs labeled in English and braille. It wasn’t the most luxurious tea shop, but it was his. Alistair prided in what he and his business partner had put together.

He left Zofia in the closed up shop as he walked behind the counter and turned on the electric kettle. In truth, he snuck down into the shop on late nights Alastair couldn’t sleep. He kept the kettle down there for that specific purpose. He dropped Brutus’s lead, and it left the large dog all too happy to trot over to his dog bed in the corner of the shop and curl up in it, an unspoken command that he was all too happy to follow. As the water heated, he listened to the woman’s laugh. It told a story of pain, one he understood all too well. “So that’s what that language was,” he murmured as he felt around under the counter at the braille lettering, finally coming across the right container. He plucked out a lavender tea, then put two tea bags into the cups he had pulled out.

Alistair hummed as she spoke, nodding his head. “Well-traveled then.” He noted as he picked the hot kettle up and placed his hand onto the cups, gauging their distance. Once the kettle hit the side of the cup, he removed his hand and poured in the water. A small device had been hooked onto the side of the cup that started to beep when the water hit it, it was how he knew when to stop pouring. He removed the device and placed it onto the second cup and repeated the process. Once he was done, he put the kettle back where it belonged and picked up the two cups and brought them to the table in the middle of the store with two arm chairs on either side. He could navigate around the store well enough without help; he knew the layout well.

He pulled out his phone and it immediately began to speak to him. It was rapid fire as it spoke. “Home Screen. Messages. Melody.” It stopped speaking. “Text Melody.” He spoke into the phone. “Texting Melody.” The phone said. “I’m borrowing a pair of your clothes for something. I’ll replace them later.” The phone read the message back, followed by his instruction to send the message. Brutus let out a sleepy sigh from his bed in the corner of the shop. Alistair couldn’t help but smile at him. “So Zofia Kowalska,” He spoke as he tucked his phone away. “Where’s home now?”

___________________________________________________________

Zofia stood in the doorway, watching as he navigated the dark coffee shop. She waited a moment or so, trying to settle into the dark. The space was big, but the shadows still made her skin crawl. She dragged a hand along the wall, letting out a tiny relieved sigh when her fingertips brushed the light switch, illuminating the space.

She nodded silently before realizing he couldn’t see the gesture. “Yes.” She confirmed. It was the language she’d lived with and died with. When she died, she’d all but abandoned it for French, immersing herself in the world of what she had become. Sofie was a silly, fragile little bird. A bird with teeth, perhaps, but a bird. She was hardly a terrifying creature. When Zofia let her die in the darkness, the gentle bird burned to ash. She wasn’t a little dove, what emerged from the ashes. She wasn’t sure her heart had wings any longer, or if it could still sing. Maybe it was for the best.

“I grew up there, a long time ago.” It helped that he couldn’t see. She might not sound like a withered crone, but her face was what truly would have given her away as something not mortal. A voice could simply be a voice. A twenty six year old face talking about times long since past? That made things more complicated. “And I traveled… well because I could.” And because staying in place for fifty years with a frozen face tended to have an adverse reaction from the locals.

She plucked the warm cup off the table with a murmured “Dziękuję”, focusing on the heat that radiated from the cup. She raised an eyebrow as he dictated a text. “Whoever she is, will she mind?” She didn’t specify what. She was sure there were a list of things another person could mind about Zofia’s unexplained presence and potential borrowing of clothes. She drummed her fingers absently against the side of the cup, trying to think of a way to phrase her situation without it sounding… well, awful seemed to be the correct word. “I was… away, for a while. Unexpectedly. My home was reclaimed in my absence… probably some bullshit about not paying rent or taxes for a few months.” Her mouth tilted in a wry smirk. “I’m shopping around for options.” Shopping implied she had money- she didn’t have much of anything anymore.

There were alternative options for the likes of her, of course. Cassius had done it for a while- perhaps living in a crypt wasn’t a terrible idea. Except for the darkness. And the dampness. And the drip drip drip that became a plink plink plink and- she closed her eyes tight, shoving it all down again. Alistair was being nice, being civil. So she would be too. “I always land on my feet.” A lie she’d tell herself until it came true.

___________________________________________________________

“Long time ago, huh?” Alistair murmured before he took a sip of his tea. “You don’t sound like you’re that old.” He remarked as he set the mug down on the table before him. “I’m from Scotland originally. If it wasn’t already blatantly obvious.” He knew what he sounded like, and between that and his name, well.

“Oh, she won’t mind. That’s what she gets for leaving her clothes here.” Alistair waved a hand, not concerned about what Melody would think. “She’s my business partner, runs the shop with me. I couldn’t do this alone with my lack of vision.” He explained as he settled into the chair, crossing one leg over the other.

Listening to her as she spoke, Alistair nodded and hummed. “I’m sorry to hear that. Time has not been kind to you, then.” He wasn’t sure what to say besides the truth he had observed. He knew what he could offer, but he wasn’t so sure if he could trust her. Still, that empty bedroom was just collecting dust. “You’re a regular bleeding heart, Alistair,” Melody would constantly remind him. It was a bad idea. “Boggin rocket,” he muttered before finally moving his head toward her. “I have a spare room. I don’t use it, and you could benefit from a place to sleep.” He looked awkward at the statement, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Brutus would want you to stay with him.” He tacked on, trying to make it sound less weird.

___________________________________________________________

Zofia couldn’t hold back the undignified snort she let out. “Well… I’d say looks can be deceiving but I’m having a difficult time working around that particular turn of phrase to make it about audio. You can’t always believe your ears?” The irony of her saying that… she shook her head. “I feel very old, is more my point.” She sighed. “The accent did give you away.” Her mouth tugged at the corner.

“You seem to do pretty well by yourself.” She noted. The only time he’d seemed like he’d needed any help at all was when the cane had rolled off. And even then, she got the impression he’d have been able to make due without it. “You’re certain she won’t mind?” She wasn’t certain why she was protesting. She ought to just take the clothes so she had something new to wear other than the coat she’d stolen.

“It’s been impartial. Time always is. It just spectates.” She took a sip of her tea, letting the heat creep through her cold body. She blinked staring at him at the offer. She sucked on her teeth, toying with her fang absently as she thought. This man had been right on the money when he’d asked if she was a creature who could kill him. She could. If he made the wrong move, she still might. And here he was, offering her a bed, and attributing the kindness to his dog. “Only Brutus, then? Is he fond of you bringing home veritable stray cats?”

___________________________________________________________

Alistair frowned to himself, gears turning as he put the pieces together. Either she was some kind of supernatural something, or she was a real weirdo. Creeping around in the dark, saying she bites, claiming she feels old and that he shouldn’t believe what he sees. These were all clues. Not to mention, when he looked through Brutus’s eyes, she looked slightly feral. And the blood on her clothes… well, she’s definitely into something freaky if she wasn’t some kind of something. “So, are you a zombie? A vampire? A very unusual fae?” He asked, deciding to be upfront with his questions instead of tiptoeing around them.

Alistair waved a hand as she asked again if it would be alright. “It’ll be my problem, not yours.” He replied in reference to taking Melody’s clothes. His phone went off, and he quickly pulled it out. The phone read the message: “Whatever, don’t be weird about it though.” He put his phone back away, then shrugged. “See? Perfectly fine.” He decided not to read too far into what Melody insinuated in her message.

He leaned forward in his chair, reaching his hand out until he made contact with his cup and put it to his lips, taking another drink. “Brutus, don’t you want your friend to stay with you?” He asked, voice calling out to the dog. The dog raised his head at the sound of his name, then wagged his tail lazily. “See? He loves company. When all he has is an old man around to keep him company, I’m sure someone else would be just what he needs.”

___________________________________________________________

There was the question again. Maybe the answer would knock some sense into the man. Inviting dangerous bite-y beasts into his home. She had access now since he’d invited her to stay- she could crawl in in the dead of night and drink him dry out of one of his own tea cups- why was he being so damned nice? “Vampire.” She said simply, her tone carefully neutral. She stood a little taller, rolling her shoulders down her back, trying to convince herself of the poise and breeding Sofie had always carried- but she wasn’t Sofie, she was-

Zofia picked at the worn blouse tucked underneath the stolen coat. It had been a lovely cream silk months ago- now it was tattered and disgusting. She hadn’t had the chance to rob or kill someone with a halfway decent wardrobe yet. She supposed free clothes without blood lust driven debauchery were an acceptable solution. Maybe a less morally ambiguous one than it could have been.

She watched as he started reaching for the mug, and something possessed her to reach out and gently nudge the cup closer to his hand. “You aren’t old.” She snickered. “You’re practically a baby.” But the dog looked at her with his damned fuzzy face. “I suppose… just for a little bit. For Brutus.”

___________________________________________________________

Alistair couldn’t help but give the woman a wicked, toothy grin. “I’m pretty good at this game. Leave me enough hints, and I’ll figure it out.” They finished their tea in silence. When he had finished his mug, he got up and offered his hand out to take Zofia’s. He thought, for a moment, that he may need to mention that he was a necromancer and, in turn, be able to control her. He frowned to himself as he washed the mugs. No, it was best not to. Not yet, anyway.

“Practically a baby!” He cried in indignance. “What, how old are you?” He asked with raised brows, suddenly curious. He knew never to ask a lady their age, but a vampire? Well, all bets were off. Curiosity took hold. “If I were ‘practically a baby,’ then my knees wouldn’t hurt all the fuckin’ time.” He grumbled as he walked to the front of the store again. “Entrance to the flat’s outside. Comin’?” He asked her as he opened the front door.

After turning off the lights in the store and locking it up again, Alistair and Brutus showed Zofia up to the flat. Upon entering the apartment, Alistair flicked on the lights and took off his sunglasses to reveal the burn scars. It was a habit that he didn’t realize was so natural to him. His home was the one place where no one asked any questions. As soon as he realized he had taken the glasses off, he froze, then hastily picked them up off the side table and put them back on. The scars disappeared. “Brutus can show you around since I can’t.” He joked as he slipped the lead off of the dog. Down the hall, you’ll find a bath on your left. You can take a shower. Towels and such are in the linen closet.” He explained. “I’ll get you the clean clothes.”

Alistair’s apartment was minimalist. All the furniture was shades of black, and the paintings hung on the walls were more focused on texture than actual subject matter. He walked around the flat with ease, knowing where everything was and being the place he spent the most time. “Don’t move anything around; otherwise, I won’t find it.” He quickly added as he disappeared into the guest bedroom. “You can stay in here.” He spoke as he flicked on the light and opened the closet door. “There should be a pair of women’s clothes in here.” It was the only thing in that closet besides some dusty boxes, a plain grey v-neck and jeans. “Make yourself at home,” he insisted, standing in the corner of the room. “And don’t worry about me accidentally walking in on you while you’re indecent.” He smirked. “Won’t see anything anyway.”

____________________________________________________________

She wished that a sly grin was always the response to discovering she was a vampire. Or maybe it was just that he had a nice smile. She drank her tea, enjoying the not quite silence. They weren’t talking, but there was still noise. The soft thunk of ceramic mugs against the table. The lazy brush of Brutus’s tail as it wagged on occasion. The steady, constant, very human breathing coming from her companion. She wondered who he was, or rather, what he was. If he knew vampires weren’t simply conjurations of folklore and bored nineteenth century novelists, he clearly must know about everything else. Or be something else.

A delighted laugh barked out of the vampire. “You are a baby, compared to me. I’m just a crone who made the decision to hit pause on the aging process before the inconvenient aspects of aging kicked in.” She brushed her hair back into a low ponytail, looking around the shop as he began putting things away and locking up the space. “Guess. I’ll be kind, I’ll give you a hint. I would have been an old woman when the Declaration of Independence was signed.” The humor was evident in her voice as she trailed along, following him out the front door.

A frown pulled at her face. She’d only caught a glimpse of the scar earlier when he’d given her a glimpse of his unseeing eyes. But now that she had more than just moonlight to see him by, he hid it away. She wanted to ask why. But he wasn’t asking why she’d had blood on her clothes or the specifics as to why she had been gone unexpectedly. So she wouldn’t pry. For now.

She poked around the space, walking toward the bathroom he’d indicated. A bath sounded like the height of luxury to her now. She hadn’t been this delighted to see a bath with running water since the invention of indoor plumbing. She wanted to crawl into it and scrub away the past few months until she was a completely new person. She wondered how long that would take. The water would probably be ice by the time she was done.

She followed his voice down the hall to see the room he’d indicated for her. The clothes were not her usual taste, but they were clean, and looked to be about her size. They were perfect. “I would say your loss, but as of this moment I look like I crawled out of my own grave.” Because she practically had. “Thank you,” Zofia’s teasing tone sombered as she offered her gratitude. It was the only thing she could offer him in return.

___________________________________________________________

Alistair pulled a face, hazarding a guess. “The 1700s?” He exclaimed, followed by a quieter “Well, isn’t that interesting.” He was glad when she didn’t comment on his scar, knowing it would open up a whole can of worms he didn’t want to deal with. Not when the problems weren’t his to have. Not right now, anyway. He was sure to explain himself if she stuck around long enough.

He listened to the footsteps come and go as she looked around. “Take as long as you need in the bath.” He spoke before walking back into the living room. Along the wall was a speaker. Without thinking about it, he pulled out his phone and put on his music. Don’t Stop Me Now began to play and Alistair made his way into the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. Being the master of microwave meals, he fished into the freezer and pulled out the first one his hand touched.

As he got his food together using the additional tools he needed to navigate living alone successfully, he whistled to himself occasionally, stopping when he had to listen to his talking microwave. After popping the food into the microwave, he leaned against the kitchen island. He wondered what had happened to Zofia before he ran into her. How long had she been on her own?

Making up ideas in his head was easy when he didn’t have the answers. The song changed to Under Pressure, and he was quickly distracted from his thoughts to casually bob his head along to the music, keeping his ear out to the sound of Brutus walking around the flat. “What do you think, Bruce?” He asked his dog, using the nickname he’d given him. “I’m a right dumbass, huh?” His voice slipped into a baby voice as he talked to his dog, then ran his fingers through Brutus’s fur. “Good boy.” He murmured before standing upright and getting his meal out of the microwave. With a meal in one hand and a fork in the other, he walked over to his desk and plopped the meal down in front of him. He began to type away at his computer between forkfuls of food, passing time as Zofia took her bath.

____________________________________________________________

“Seventeen-oh-nine.” She confirmed. “I’ll have my three hundred fifteenth birthday next year. Like I said. A crone.” Zofia knew damn well she ought to be a pile of dust. She’d spent the past few months thinking she was only a heartbeat away from becoming that pile of dust. All it would have taken was them to decide she was useless, and a stake to the heart. Easy as that. Her hand rubbed absently at the spot just below her collar bone where the stake could have found its home.

Zofia shut herself in the bathroom, and let the water run. The rush of bathwater filling the tub was tolerable. She wasn’t sure she could stand the noise of a shower. Or rain. She used to love a rainy day. She shut her eyes and let out a long heavy sigh, submerging herself under the water and staying there for a good, long while. The hot water made the world outside sound distorted and soft. There was music playing somewhere in the distance, the sound of Alistair’s muffled voice. The only clear sound was her own thoughts. Those raged loud as thunder.

Kindness and sorrow and guilt and fear and rage and confusion made up a carousel in her mind, each one screaming, determined to be the loudest emotion, demanding to be heard. She wished the water could muffle them, too. At least the water muffled the sound of her tears.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she pulled her head above water again. Time was tricky now. Minutes and hours could blur. The water had cooled, so it was definitely longer than a living person could have held their breath for. She scrubbed herself clean, watching the suds start to wash the bad dream away.

Clean, dry, and clothed, she left the bathroom smelling like the sandalwood scented soap in Alistair’s bathroom. She walked back out to find her host, working her hair damp back into a neat braid. “Queen?” She asked her voice soft, hoping that she hadn’t startled him as she walked up behind him.

______________________________________________________________

As soon as Zofia had left the bathroom, Brutus had taken to following her around. When Alistair heard both the paws and a set of human steps, he knew she had returned. “Oh, yeah. I like to listen to music while I answer emails and fill out forms.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Melody does all the hard work that needs eyes, I do the administrative stuff behind the scenes.” He locked his computer, deciding it was time to stop for the night. There was still a question in the air, the one question he knew was wrong to ask. Still, it gnawed at him. What had happened to her? “So.” He started, trying to find a way to word what he needed to ask her. “You’re 314 years old.” He couldn’t ask her. So instead he focused on what he did know. “You’re a vampire. And you haven’t had access to clean clothes or a safe place to sleep in a while.”

He let out a loud exhale through his nose, frowning. “Whatever happened, I’m sorry it happened.” He leaned back in his chair, unsure how to continue. “And if you aren’t ready to talk about it, we won’t. If you’re never ready, that’s alright too.” Alistair let his hands fall into his lap, at a loss with what else to say. “You’re welcome to come and go as you please. Stay as long as you want, I just ask that you don’t bring home guests.” He gave a terse smile. “And I’ll do the same. No guests unless it’s necessary. Melody comes but on Thursdays after work. She insists I eat home-cooked food at least once a week.” He rolled his eyes, though there was an affection to his smile. “Other than that, just myself and Brutus live here.”

Brutus, as if on cue, licked at Zofia’s hand. Hearing the noise, Alistair rolled his eyes again. “You can just tell him to stop if he’s annoying you.” He muttered, staring in the direction he had heard her voice. “Have any questions for me?”

__________________________________________________________

Brutus may have been Alistair’s eyes, but he’d turned into Zofia’s shadow the moment she’d stepped back out of the bathroom. The dog seemed just as determined to be her friend as she had been to follow along and observe them. She leaned over every now and again to pet her new friend.

Her jaw tensed slightly as he began to tick through the list of things he knew about her for certain. And then he just… let it go. Didn’t ask, didn’t push. Offered to listen when she was ready. Zofia relaxed slightly. “You don’t have to worry about house guests with me. At least none that I would be the one to invite…” Uninvited guests, however, were a very real threat. She had definitely made herself an enemy of whoever had taken her by claiming the life of one of theirs. “I won’t make myself an inconvenience… As for,” She tensed a little, unwilling to part with many details just yet. “As for an explanation, I’m not sure I’m a reliable narrator anymore. For all I know I’m dreaming in a spot significantly less nice than this. This seems like a nice new way to cope. And if it is a dream, my mind is doing a lovely job of making up for everything by providing me with sweet dogs and handsome strangers. Good job brain, maybe you’ve not gone completely batshit insane yet,” As she talked, her voice grew softer, a mumbled rambling to herself. She realized she had gone off on a tangent and blinked. “Or maybe not that sane, if I’m talking like this.” Zofia groaned, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

Her face fell into a deep frown, and she sat down on the floor beside Brutus. “No questions about your house rules. And he’s not annoying, he’s sweet. He’s giving me kisses. Aren’t you Brutus?” The question earned her a slobbery kiss on her cheek that drew the first genuine laugh out of her in hell only knew how long. “Thank you Brutus, I believe I’m due some affection after the last few days.” She cooed, her voice slipping back into the shameless baby voice that only came out to play when there was an animal around.

______________________________________________________________

Alistair narrowed his eyes as she spoke about it all being a dream. “If it were a dream,” he mused, “then I’d really love to know who the fuck is in charge because it’s been going on for a long bleedin’ while.” He shook his head. No, she wasn’t dreaming. “And, if this were a dream, why’d you dream up me?” He pulled a face, clearly unimpressed with her imagination. He waved a hand in her general direction. “An’ you're not crazy. Just traumatized. Anyone who’s been through what you’ve been through what you’ve been through would behave the same if not worse.” He didn’t know if that were true, but he could still hazard a guess.

He listened as she spoke to his dog affectionately, and it caused a smile to creep across his face. I’m due some affection. Huh. Somebody To Love began to play as if by divine intervention (and not a cliched writer controlling his every move). Realizing he had a play in his hand, Alistair found himself uncharacteristically shy. Brutus went still for a moment, then Alistair surged his hand forward to take hers. Brutus, seeming to have above-average dog intelligence, trotted off to his bed. He had gotten this far, but he was still nervous to overstep a boundary.

Somebody (somebody)

Ooh, somebody (somebody)

Can anybody find me

Somebody to love? ____________________________________________________________

“If this is a dream, you could just be saying that.” It had been easy to believe the comforting lies her mind gave her early on. She wasn’t willing to be tricked again. Even if the dreams were better than the disappointing, heartbreaking, shitty realities she woke up to. “And why not? I read somewhere once that you can only dream about people you’ve seen before. And I’ve seen so many people in my life. Maybe you were a Lord somewhere. Maybe a Marquis. Maybe I met you when I came state side- there was that jazz club in the Village… or maybe at the opera… Maybe I just saw you in passing and liked the look of you, and my mind just filed it away for a rainy day.” She thought, studying his face as though the answer would come to mind if she looked long enough. Her focus shifted away as he brought up what she’d been through. “I wouldn’t be so certain.” Zofia let out under her breath. The bursts of clarity made her nice and normal, but she could feel her moods turn like the tide, could hear the whispers and the dripping and the quiet and-

She took in a breath, and let it go.

There was a hand covering hers. She jumped in surprise. Hands, as of late, had not been gentle. But this one was. This one offered comfort. She took his hand and lifted it to her cheek, holding it there. “Here. I know what you look like. It’s only fair you get to know what I look like.”

___________________________________________________________

Hand pressed against her face, Alistair couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “My dear, that’s now how I know what you look like.” His hand dropped from her face. “First of all, blind people don’t actually do that to get to know what someone’s face looks like.” He leaned his head to the side, then called out for Brutus. The black lab mix came trotting over to his companion, who gave a quick command in Gaelic. Brutus sat. “Do me a favor and be eye level with him.” He instructed. After she had done so, Brutus stared up at her. Alistair was silent for a few moments. Then Brutus licked the woman’s face.

“I can wield magic.” Alistair explained, leaning down to pat the dog, who got up from his sitting position and wagged his tail from side to side. “A spell I’ll use when I need to is seeing through his eyes.” He further detailed as Brutus walked off once more, knowing he was dismissed. “There are other ways, of course.” He then spoke, a coy smile playing across his lips. “But never mind that.” He patted her shoulder and made his way back into the kitchen where Brutus was waiting patiently to be fed. “Suidhe.” He spoke, which caused the dog to sit immediately.

He went about getting his dog’s dinner ready, then placed it on the ground for his companion to eat. “Now that he’s thoroughly distracted for a few minutes, is there anything you'd like to do?” The song kept playing, and he was keenly aware. He was almost relieved when it switched over to Bohemian Rhapsody. He thought about the earlier interaction, and how he’d glossed over the fact that he had looked at her and said nothing about it. “You’re quite pretty, by the way. Better now that you’re out of those tattered clothes.”

_________________________________________________________

She fought a frown as the warm hand slipped away from her face, resisting the urge to lean after it as he pulled away. She was being ridiculous- ridiculous and touch starved. Zofia looked confused as he called to Brutus. How could the dog help? At Alistair’s request, she shifted until she was sat directly in front of Brutus. It was quiet, aside from the music. No indication of what was going on. Her nose scrunched in confusion. Was he pulling one over on her? Brutus suddenly licked her face, and she laughed, petting him again.

Her brows rose in surprise. So that was how he knew what she was. “Clever.” She hadn’t had many experiences with practitioners, but Zofia had to figure that was one of the more clever ways to use it. A curious smile tugged at her lips as he mentioned other ways, but then he walked away.

_______________________________________________________

Her eyes followed him as he moved around the space. Zofia got up off the floor, sitting in a chair instead. She started to smile at the compliment, but her smile caught. “So you did see me before.” The smile came out as more of a grimace. She shook off the thought. It didn’t matter- it was over. All of what came before was over. Her chest tightened in realization. All of what came before. She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing just above her heart once more to comfort herself. “Stopping the clock on the aging process when I did was certainly not a bad idea.” She shrugged. “You mentioned other ways?” She was grateful when her voice came out normal. She leaned toward him, genuinely curious. “What other tricks do you have hidden up your sleeves?”

A whirlwind of thoughts flowed through Alistair’s mind at that moment. A woman who was clearly receptive to his touch standing there and there he was, reluctant. Usually, the kind of man who seizes such opportunities when they were presented to him, he found himself unwilling. It was one thing when they left in the morning, but she wouldn’t be. He had offered his home to her. Not to mention, she was clearly troubled by something that had recently happened to her. Would he be taking advantage of her? Did he want to open something so clearly labeled ‘keep out?’ So, instead of doing anything at all, he simply shook his head at her questioning of other methods. Something about sleeping with her would be too much for him.

Alistair thought of Mikael and all but shattered under the weight of it. “Never mind, that.” He spoke, voice weak and brittle. “I should…” his voice trailed off, struggling with finding something to occupy his time with instead. “I’m tired.” He then decided before walking off to his bedroom at 6 in the evening. “Have a good night.” He called over his shoulder before retreating into the room and closing the door behind him.

#c; alistair mckenzie #t; alistair #deathsplaything #thread: stranger

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maracujatangerine · 2 years

Text

31. Lost Property

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

When Lydia and Linden came downstairs again, there was a strained silence between them.

Lydia opened the bottle of wine, Linden fiddled around with getting some wine glasses, and some glasses for water, and a bunch of crackers, and some cheese and olives and some rather superfluous plates, and neither of them seemed to know how to break the silence.

“You think I treat the pets too much like children?” Lydia just went out and said it, flatly.

Linden jerked his head up and looked for a moment like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming train. He looked back down at the table, then, determinedly, back up again.

”Well-” Linden hesitated. “I just think…they already have no control over their lives. And they aren’t children. Even calling them ‘the pets’ is…”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Lydia bristled. “Don’t you think I know that it is totally insane that they look to us for guidance as if they were dogs in a bewildering human world? And you think that I want to strip them of their agency?”

Linden almost recoiled at the intensity of her words. She could see that he was collecting himself, choosing his next words, but she wasn’t done.

“Listen,” she said sternly, “Apart from Cory I have gotten to know another pet, a guard dog named Brutus. They are very different, but in some ways they are the same, and Col seems to be similar in that way too.” She paused.

“Every time I try to give them more power over their own lives, they push back in terror. ‘Pets should not do X, pets should not do Y’. They have gone through hell and they have been taught that their own decisions, even their own desires, should not exist.

I am telling Cory what to do. But within that safety net of sorts, where he knows that he is a good boy,” she made a face at her own words, ”I encourage him to take his own initiatives, to grow as a person. And he does, and he feels reasonably safe while he is doing it. If that means that I am treating him too much like a child,” she spat, “then so be it!”

Just try it yourself, she wanted to say, if you think it is that easy.

But Linden did. That gentle, dark-haired man that sat across from her, looking crestfallen, did struggle with the same issues every day.

She knotted her fingers together in her lap. “I’m really trying to do the best for Cory, but it is just very hard to know, sometimes. What is the right thing to do, I mean.”

Linden nodded, quietly. Inky eyes meeting her own.

“I usually just feel like I’m muddling through,” he admitted. “It’s very hard to predict how Col will react. I try to make him feel safe, but sometimes I just succeed in freaking him out instead.” Lydia nodded.

“Been there, done that. It is really unpredictable, sometimes.” She sighed. “And they all just want to be good.“ She gave him a bit of a lopsided smile. “Sorry for taking my frustrations out on you for a bit, there. Even if I sounded as if I’m sure, honestly, I’m really struggling with if it is better to let Cory know that he is being good, so that he will feel safe, or if that just reinforces the whole thing about being a pet in the first place.”

“Yeah, completely. I find it hard to find a balance between accepting these very glaringly obvious difficulties and just falling into a hole of pessimism. I never want to complain too much, or sound resentful, or… yeah. But it is nice to talk about this with someone who really gets it. And, um. Thank you for the apology. It’s okay, really. We all react to things differently.”

“You’re a very measured man,” Lydia said, staring into her wine, the ghost of her earlier smile still barely visible on her lips.

“So, how did Cory end up with you anyway?” Linden asked.

Lydia swallowed a gulp from her glass and sighed, then she looked straight into Linden’s eyes.

“I bought him.” She admitted with a grimace. “I didn’t know what it was going to be like, and I thought I was doing something good, but I bought him and paid good money for him.” There was a bitter anger in her voice, at the WRU, but mostly at herself. “I paid for Cory, as if he were a dog.”

“I’m not judging you,” Linden said evenly. “The alternative was for him to end up with someone who really did see him as a dog.”

Lydia sighed. The thought was painful. “How did you get Col?”

“Ad in the local paper. He was living on the street so they gave him to me for free. It was that or they’d, uh, put him down.”

Lydia felt a twinge of guilt. Linden had at least acquired Col outside of the conventional system. She felt so complicit. Perhaps she had helped Cory to a better life, but at the expense of supporting the pet industry.

She thought back to the revelation about the attacker at dinner, and how Col had sobbed that he deserved to be put down. Did he know, she wondered, how close he had come to such a fate?

”That was truly a good deed.” She told Linden. “Brave of you, too. If I had known what to expect, I’m not sure I would have been brave enough.”

Linden hummed in assent and refilled their glasses. They both sipped their wine.

“Cory did do something quite odd,” Linden remarked suddenly, as if the memory had just come to him. “When I had the radio on. It was playing a classical piece and I walked in on him with tears streaming down his face. Properly streaming.”

Lydia cocked her head to the side and nodded, letting him continue.

“He told me later about this dream he has sometimes. He said that he dreams he’s in a cave, with… something weighing on him. And music coming through him. Has he ever talked about it with you?”

“No,” Lydia confirmed, leaning forward. “Never.”

“Doesn’t it sound like being in an orchestra?”

Lydia locked eyes with Linden, nodding slowly. “It does. It does!”

Linden felt a little excited at the new revelation. “And when he was crying at the music, he didn’t seem scared or upset, just- moved? He said he’d forgotten how beautiful it was. But that he’d never try to play. He insisted upon it, in fact.”

“He’d only say that if it was trained out of him,” Lydia finished the thought.

“Exactly.”

“But…” Lydia bit her lip, doubtfully. “He does play. I mean, you heard him yourself tonight. He was a bit nervous at first, but it was quite easy for him to start to play even for other people.” She shook her head, slowly. “And you heard him, he’s good, right?” Linden smiled and nodded. “But…” She hesitated, unwilling to criticise Cory. “ “I don’t think he’s professional level good. I’m not a tin whistle expert, but still, I think he is more like a gifted, dedicated amateur.”

“I guess you are right.” Linden looked down, disappointed. “Perhaps it was nothing more than a random dream.”

He took a sip of his wine. The memory of Coriander still bothering him. The blonde man’s tear-stained face as he swayed in tune with the violin, an almost religious ecstasy. It should mean something.

Cory had been swaying to the violin… which is a string instrument… which is a whole different kettle of fish compared with a flute or any kind of wind instrument.

“Hey Lydia,” Linden said slowly, puzzling together his thoughts as he spoke, “have you ever let Cory try some other kinds of instruments? You know how many musicians play several instruments, but have one instrument as their main expertise?” He could see understanding dawning in her eyes as well. “What if Cory plays another instrument even better?”

“Oh my God.” Lydia took a breath. “That is brilliant. I haven’t thought of trying that, but of course I should. I could maybe take him to a shop that sells musical instruments, or…”

“You should be a bit careful.” Linden cautioned gently. “There were some pretty strong emotions in play just by him listening to the radio.” Lydia nodded in agreement.

“You are right. I shouldn’t overwhelm him. Maybe that would be too much at once. I will give it some thought.” She gave Linden a lopsided smile. “There was some Sherlock Holmes-level deduction right there. I hardly know anything about Cory’s past.”

She looked away in the distance, suddenly sad. “Oh Cory, if we are right. I bet you played so beautifully.”

“He probably still can,” Linden said softly.

“I just- I want him to be happy again. I want him to be able to regain whoever he was, once.”

“Me too. That’s exactly what I want.” Linden said. Lydia nodded.

“For both of them.” She hesitated and amended herself. “For all of them.”

The pair made eye contact once more, warm smiles reflecting in each other’s eyes.

Lydia was the first to break the silence.

“I’m… I’m just so glad to have met you, you know. It seems like everyone involved with this pet business are just terrible human beings and I haven’t really met anyone else trying to do what I want to do with Cory.”

Linden grinned, raising his glass into a toast.

“Here’s to not being alone in a shitty situation.” Lydia huffed a laugh and clinked her glass against his.

“Let’s drink to that, to not being alone.”

The next morning dawned with sunshine from a clear blue sky. Linden drove them all to the station, in plenty of time for Lydia and Cory’s train.

“Thank you,” Lydia said, standing on the platform, “for great company,” she smiled at Col, “and great hospitality” with a smile for Linden. ”Don’t forget to come and visit us!”

She stepped up to Colton and wrapped her arms around the tall man, feeling him first stiffen in surprise, then relax into the hug. “Take care, Col.” She told him quietly. Lydia let him go and turned towards his owner. There was no hesitation in Linden’s hug, just warm friendliness. “Thank you for looking after Col.” He smiled and mimed holding up a phone. “We should talk soon.”

“T-thank you, Sir.” Coriander smiled shyly. When Linden hugged him, he hugged back carefully. “It was lovely to meet you Cory. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Col and Cory exchanged one long look.

“T-thank you, Colton.” Coriander said. “T-this pet w-was happy to see you.”

”I was happy to meet you, too, Cory.” Col raised his hand in a careful wave. “Take care.” Cory returned the gesture.

“Y-you too.”

Lydia and Coriander took their places and waved through the window as the train ponderously started to leave the station. Linden and Colton waved back. Then, together, they turned and started walking to their car, on the way back home.

Thank you all for tagging along and for being such great readers and co-adventurers! 💖

This collaboration grew and grew to become something much larger than either of us envisioned from the beginning. We’ve come to the end at around 37,000 words. We are both very proud and happy to bring this story to completion.

Even if Lost Property is finished, Linden and Colton and Lydia and Coriander will continue their separate adventures. Going forward, we will not automatically tag the Lost Property tag list for our separate writings. If you want to be on the tag list for Linden and Colton, let Cerys know. If you want to be on the tag list for Lydia and Coriander, get in touch with Linda.

Once again, thank you all!

Cerys & Linda

xxx

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lost property #whump fic #pet whump #lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #linden and colton #whump #caretaker #recovery whump #rescue whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #box boy multiverse #conditioned whumpee #original writing

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nossumusmanus · 1 year

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Get to know the Mun

What’s your phone wallpaper: My lockscreen wallpaper changes semi-frequently, but right now it's one of my favorite screenshots of my Quintus alt because I Just Think He's Neat. My actual wallpaper on there, though, is this pretty starry dusk sky to try and match with my Sailor Moon phone case.

Last song you listened to: Foo Fighters - Saint Cecilia, which I am ... currently listening to again, for the fifty-billionth time today.

Currently reading: I haven't sat down to read a book in forever; my attention span won't let me. But I am currently reading a gathering and crafting melding guide? So we'll just smile and nod and pretend that counts.

Last movie: A WWII movie called "Come And See". If you're into that sort of thing, I do recommend it.

Craving: Absolutely nothing. 8D

What are you wearing right now: Uh... khakis? In all seriousness, I'm wearing jeans and a purple slightly-bell-sleeved top.

How tall are you?: 5'7"!

Piercings / tattoos ?: Just my ears pierced.

Last thing you ate?: I may have just finished eating a little chocolate pie before I started answering this.

Favorite color(s): It's a toss-up between silver and blue, or gold and red. But I also really like pink and purple, especially softer shades.

Current obsession: FFXIV, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs even though the game is old as fuck by this point, uh. That's kind of all I can think of at the moment, besides history -- primarily late 19th century/American Civil War up 'til the end of the second World War.

Any pets?: Six cats and one dog.

Do you have a crush right now?: Not really.

Favorite fictional character: Hmm. That's hard. I'll limit it to FFXIV characters, for the sake of not making a miles-long list.

In no particular order: Ameliance and Fourchenault Leveilleur, Aymerc de Borel, Raubahn Aldynn, Quintus van Cinna, Menenius sas Lanatus, Jullus pyr Norbanus, Minfilia Warde, Venat, Hythlodaeus, Hermes and Meteion, Dulia Chai and Chai-Nuzz, Kai-Shirr, Anogg and Konogg, Lucia goe Junius, Yotsuyu goe Brutus, Fordola rem Lupus, Misija Votyasch, like half of the fucking IVth Imperial Legion, Marsak and Basaljen of the Bozjan Resistance. Ryne and Gaia, Loghrif herself and Mitron too, Magnus gets thrown in there for breaking my heart, uh. Lahabrea, Themis, Erichthonios, Agdistis of course. Igeyorhm, Nabriales, Emet-Selch. The Warriors of Light from the First. I'm probably forgetting some, ngl.

... Actually, I lied about limiting it to FFXIV characters. Speaking of Magnus -- Magnus from MapleStory, as well as Von Leon from the same game. (Roleplaying as Von Leon is actually where my name "Vonny" stems from!) Oh and Oswald Mandus.

Last place you traveled: My sister and I went to this dog school about half an hour away to see about enrolling the puppup there because of her anxiety, and to help train her to be a service dog for my sister and dad.

tagged by: @surpassing-limits

tagging: @valiinus , @angelic-din-mortem , @ancalagxn , @keyward , @peachbelli , and everyone else who wants to do it! Steal it, gogogogogo!

#Out of Ammo #Memes and Prompts

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the-one-and-only-aroace · 2 years

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read this if you don’t read the rest it’s a slow burn Romance (they are together now) awkward guy and the single mom next door with the cutest little boy on the planet. that actually address men in emotionally abusive relationships, and how the effect you in the long term, and how the abuser isn’t always just evil and sometimes needs help without excusing her behavior, and how to let go of a person who hurt you - https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/lemon-soda-coffee/list?title_no=374018

it’s a dude who’s best friends with moth man- https://www.webtoons.com/en/comedy/finding-fiends/list?title_no=2756

alien spider mom and her feral friendly human child that doesn’t know she’s human because human are just about extinct and they are also illegal- https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/the-last-human-in-a-crowded-galaxy/list?title_no=403136

just a cute slice of life all from different points in her life and a lot involve dogs - https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/whats-up-beanie/list?title_no=295880

super cute story that’s involves a lot of Norwegian folklore (i think that’s what i is) about a raccoon dog (who was raised by a bear) and a escaped witches cat. - https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/fox-fires/list?title_no=125525

cute slice of life about a retired military dog and a kitten - https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/pixie-and-brutus/list?title_no=452175

funny animal comics by the same dude as above - https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/pet-foolery/list?title_no=691801

Erma the child of that Japanese horror lady and a human originally slice of life now has a really interesting plot has other comics in universe as well - https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/erma/list?title_no=170650

Thank you!

#you’ve recced me the first on before #but I accidentally deleted the tab and kinda forgot about it #the marvelous miss frizzle #thanks for the ask!#save

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britishsass · 1 year

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Grulovian Mythology: Major Gods

Owl’s Note: Anon had a lot of great ideas! I’m putting them under a cut, but I really do appreciate all of your ideas. Thanks for the submission, anon! ^_^

Virilideus

Supreme God of Gods, Kingdoms, the Sun, Strength, the Sky, and Light

Symbols include the Sun, Peacock, and Stars.

Often seen as an old man.

Husband of Marilidea, the queen of Gods.

Marilidea

Supreme Goddess of Gods, Kingdoms, the Moon, Wisdom, the Earth, and Darkness.

Symbols include the Moon, Raven, and Stars.

Often seen as an old woman.

Wife of Virilideus, the king of Gods.

Coerulus

God of compassion, wisdom, love, and peace.

Symbols include the dove, Lavender, and white roses.

Often seen wearing blue armor.

Son of Virilideus and Marilidea, brother of Byrra. Husband of Cantus.

Byrra

Goddess of war, strength, and strategy.

Symbols include a spear, shield, and dogs.

Often seen wearing red armor.

Daughter of Virilideus and Marilidea, sister of Coerulus. Wife of Byrra.

Cantus

Goddess of music, and song.

Often seen with a violin.

Symbols include roosters, and strings.

Wife of Coerulus.

Pharmacus

God of medicine, healing, and sickness.

Often seen with a pet snake.

Symbols include crosses, clovers, and snakes.

Husband of Byrra. Son of Morius and Mementa. Brother of Toxio.

Toxio

God of poison.

Often seen with a pet spider.

Symbols include snakes, spiders, and mandrake roots.

Brother of Pharmacus.

Morius

God of death, comfort, grief and mercy.

Symbols include scorpions, lilies, and skulls.

Often seen wearing a black robe.

Husband of Mementa. Father of Pharmacus.

Mementa

Goddess of memories, and wisdom.

Often seen carrying a book.

Symbols include roses.

Wife of Morius.

Septentrionalis

God of water, ice, rain, oceans, and the north.

Often seen wearing a blue robe made of water.

Symbols include the stars Polaris and Regulus, the Big Dipper, rain, and fish.

Husband of Meridionalis. Father of Orientalis and Occidentalis.

Meridionalis

Goddess of fire, lightning and the south.

Often seen wearing a red robe made of fire.

Symbols include the stars Canopus and Fomalhaut, flames, and reptiles.

Wife of Septentrionalis. Mother of Orientalis and Occidentalis.

Orientalis

Goddess of wind, songs, the east, and weather.

Often seen wearing a green robe made of wind.

Symbols include the stars Vega and Aldebaran, clouds, winds, insects, and birds.

Daughter of Septentrionalis and Meridionalis. Sister of Occidentalis. Wife of Hora. Mother of Praeter, Instan, and Relico.

Occidentalis

God of earth, rocks, mountains, the west, and gems.

Often seen wearing a yellow robe made of rocks.

Symbols include the stars Altair and Antares, rocks, gems, and mammals.

Son of Septentrionalis and Meridionalis. Brother of Orientalis. Husband of Brutus.

Hora

Goddess of fertility, harvest, sand, patience, and time.

Often seen holding wheat.

Symbols include the hourglass, sand, and arrows.

Wife of Orientalis. Mother of Praeter, Instan, and Relico.

Brutus

God of animals and the hunt.

Symbols include, dogs, wolves, cats, fish, and rocks.

Often seen with a bow and arrow.

Husband of Brutus.

Praeter

God of the past.

Symbols include seeds.

Often seen with his ears covered.

Son of Orientalis and Hora. Brother of Instan and Relico.

Instan

God of the present.

Symbols include flower buds.

Often seen with her mouth covered.

Son of Orientalis and Hora. Brother of Praeter and Relico.

Relico

Goddess of the future.

Symbols include flowers.

Often seen with her eyes covered.

Daughter of Orientalis and Hora. Sister of Praeter and Instan.

#anon writing #submission #queue #grulovian gods #psychonauts headcanons

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deathsplaything · 1 month

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A Good Neighbor Indeed || Alistair, Daiyu, & Winnifred

LOCATION: The Sugar Pot TIMING: Late February PARTIES: Alistair (@deathsplaything), Daiyu (@bountyhaunter), & Winnifred (NPC) SUMMARY: Winnifred calls upon Daiyu for an interview for her to join the inner circle of the Good Neighbors. Alistair plays witness. CONTENT WARNINGS: Abuse (mentioned)

After a long day at the Sugar Pot, Alistair wanted nothing more than to curl up on their couch and take a nap. That’s not what the day had in store for them, however. No, Winnifred wanted Alistair to oversee a meeting between them and a potential recruit for the Keep; Daiyu. She was a proven hunter and had brought in a lot of people and creatures over the last few months. Over the years he’d known Winnifred, Alistair knew there was very little when it came to dissuading her from a decision she’s already made. After they’d closed the shop for the day, Alistair waved their goodbyes to Melody and crew, letting out a deep sigh as they waited for Winnifred to show up.

Brutus was off in the corner on his bed, looking up at his owner with his big brown eyes, tail wagging as Alistair knelt beside their dog and began to pet them. Brutus was always good for centering him. “Let’s make sure this goes smoothly.” They told their dog, who earned a lick on his nose. “Al! Darling!” A voice rang out, grabbing their attention to the front of the store. “Winnie!” Alistair responded with a smile. “Glad you’ve made it.” They outstretched their arms, and the woman quickly enveloped her old friend in a big hug. Winnifred Williams if nothing else was big on hugs.

“Daiyu should be here any minute,” Winnifred told Alistair as soon as she’d released them from the hug. “She’s a damn good ranger, been bringing in people left and right since she joined.” Alistair heard tapping, indicating that Winnifred was tapping away on her phone. “I’ll be doing the talking, but I want you to be paying attention to her from Brutus’s point of view. See if there’s any slipups, ‘kay?” Alistair wanted to protest but knew better than to do so. “On my honor, Winnie.” They responded with a mini salute, then took the seat closest to Brutus’s bed. “Ready for some work?” He spoke to his dog, who panted in response. “Good.”

Winnifred walked over to the seats in the corner of the shop and sat down next to Alistair, waiting for the girl to make her appearance, one leg crossed over the other as she continued to tap away on her phone, looking up every so often at the front door to keep an eye out. “Volkovs are a big deal, you know?” She spoke idly, drawing Alistair’s attention over to her. “She’d be good to have on the inside.” Alistair shrugged a shoulder and hummed boredly in response. “If you say so,” he muttered, hand still petting their dog.

To do something good. It was a notion that should fit a hunter like a glove, except the Volkovs had long ago corrupted themselves — but Daiyu had always been a bleeding heart compared to them. Back when she’d still cried freely and with a certain level of regularity, she’d wept over spilled blood like another child might over spilled milk. But she’d hardened under the hard hand of her father and grown into something, surely. Whatever that was she couldn’t tell you, but it was spiked and hard enough to have made it here.

But the child inside is hard to kill, especially when repressed from an early age. And so the childish desire is still there — to do something good. It was another hunter who’d suggested it to her, dragged into a corner of The 3 Daggers, saying something about a well-paying gig. Steady. Better than this shit, something that’ll give you actual purpose. And wasn’t that what she wanted on top of the autonomy she’d been gathering? Purpose. To not just feel like something spiked and hard and ruinous.

So since her arrival in Wicked’s Rest she’d been going on patrols with unassuming humans, which had felt useless but … nice. The humans were so sweet in their wish to do something in the town, so set on helping their community. Daiyu didn’t fully understand it, but she liked it. She’d not gotten paid for those outings, but when she’d knocked out a werewolf and hand-delivered it to what she assumed to be another hunter, she’d collected a small stipend. The same went for some other beasts. She hadn’t asked questions after realizing there wasn’t any space for questions, had taken her money and moved on. As was the way for a bounty hunter. Now, however, she was a bounty hunter with a returning client!

The invitation to meet with Winnifred Williams (double-double-u in Daiyu’s mind) outside one of the meetings had been met with a yes from her end. She wasn’t sure what it’d be about, wasn’t sure what to expect from the teashop (different from the basement that smelled distantly of cabbage) but adventure was always met with nothing but determination. And so she arrived, only two minutes late, at the Sugar Pot. She gave a knock, glanced inside and pushed the door open. “Hi,” she said, taking stock of the three individuals in the shop. One was a dog. This was a good sign. “Good evening, Winnifred! And hi, I’m Daiyu.” They said this to the stranger, not the dog — it was supposedly polite to greet humans before dogs, even if she was of the opinion that dogs reigned supreme. “Th– I appreciate the invite. What’s up?” What’s up, what a stupid way of voicing her curiosity. She remained standing, eyes flicking to the dog. She resisted the urge to ask their name. “I hope all’s good.”

Alistair listened as the door opened, and they slumped back in their seat a bit more as they realized there was truly no getting out of this. As soon as Daiyu entered the store, Alistair began to look through his dog’s eyes. They stood perfectly still, and the dog looked around the room as he usually would, though fixated on Daiyu as she came closer. “Fuirich,” Alistair spoke to their dog in a calm tone, which caused Brutus to continue sitting at Alistair’s feet, though his tail was wagging a mile a minute to express his happiness at the sight of a new person.

“Daiyu, good to see you!” Winnifred exclaimed, waving happily at the woman with a large smile plastered over her face. “This is Alistair. They’re one of my excellent friends.” She reached over and pinched at Alistair’s cheek, which caused them to flinch and push the hand away on instinct. They made a face but quickly corrected it into an uncomfortable smile. They had a job to do, so they kept silent, nodding their head as they were introduced.

“What’s up?” Winnifred responded with a giddy expression. “What’s up I want to congratulate you on being so awesome!” She waved her hands in front of herself, then let out a little “Woo!” Alistair slipped further down in their seat, embarrassed for her. “How would you feel about getting to know a little more about our organization? Maybe a bit of a promotion, so to speak?” Winnifred wiggled her brows playfully, patting the seat across from her. “Sit! I want to talk with you!” She looked to Alistair, who was carefully watching the girl through their dog’s eyes. “Would you make us some of that wonderful earl grey you make?” She pleaded to the redhead, who broke the connection with Brutus, to stand up. “Fine.” They grumped, pushing themselves up from their seat and over to the counter.

Winnifred was a woman of great fervor, Daiyu had learned. Personable and excitable and so very devoted to her cause, pushing into personal boundaries with little thought. She wasn’t used to these kind of people — her own people were the distant and cold type, touch mostly used as a means of control. She’d always been considered fiery among her kin, but here she felt as frozen as the rest of her family.

“Good to see you too,” she said, giving a smile. It wasn’t bad, she found. To be around someone so energetic, so glad to see her. It was a little infectious, even if also unfamiliar. Daiyu wondered how many people just went through life like this, exclaiming everything as if it was the most exciting thing. Living for their community, driven to keep them all safe. It seemed like a nice existence. Even if her house smelled of cabbage.

And so as Winnifred went on about how awesome she was, she wasn’t sure how to stand. Daiyu could feel her cheeks growing round with the slight, true smile that sneaked on her lips, even if she thought it was a little cringe. “That’s … awesome, that you think that way. I’m always down for more.” The Good Neighbors didn’t fit her. It was all in the name: she wasn’t good. She was barely even a neighbor, with her nomadic way of life and how she struggled to really invest in the people around her. But she liked the idealistic, ignorant humans. She liked the flow of money, too. And so she sat down, gave a small nod to Alistair and looked at the woman. “So, what more is there to know?” There always was more to know. Information, too, was used as a means of control. “I’m all ears.”

Winnifred’s eyes seemed to twinkle in delight as Daiyu seemed to get on board with what the woman was throwing her way. “Excellent! Well for one, I’m happy to see how devoted to the cause you are,” she began, scrolling through her phone as she looked through a document. “You’ve one of the highest catch rates of the organization, not to mention your own reputation from your family!” Winnifred waved a hand, not wanting to get too ahead of herself.

Alistair continued to watch Daiyu, noticing how she seemed to be receptive to Winnifred’s words. Man, they weren’t built for this. They were supposed to just get the person and be on their way. But Winnifred, as she does, saw potential in Alistair whether they wanted it to be there or not. She saw a friend who because they played their cards right, was doomed to follow the woman wherever she went. They hated it. They liked it. They hated that he kind of liked it.

Taking a deep breath, Alistair crossed their arms over their chest and kept quiet as Winnifred continued to speak. “As you well know, we don’t kill our captured friends,” Winnifred explained. “Instead, we keep them in a holding block, if you will.” Her gaze watched Daiyu closely for her reaction. “We don’t kill people. Because they are people. They’re just… dangerous people. And we don’t want to let the dangerous people out among the innocent, do we?”

She had a strange relationship with praise, as was to be expected when raised by the likes of Alexei Volkov. Praise was given for particular and creative cruelty, for an ice-cold and vicious approach, for knives sunk in backs. To be praised was to be good at what she was born to be, but it also meant something had to be rotten about her, as to be admired by such a man was surely no good sign. Daiyu felt herself halt and tense at the statement that she caught a lot, balked at the mention of family.

Her expression grew darker for a moment, like the shadow of her siblings was cast over her. Most other hunters were more tactful about these things. “Right. Well, I’m good at what I do,” she said tersely, not adding that it was because or in spite of her family. She pushed herself up in her seat, remembering that Volkovs weren’t supposed to slump. (They also didn’t collaborate with neighborhood watches, though.)

She listened to Winnifred speak, feeling as if she was being addressed like a child who needed justification. Calling shifters and whatnot people, but dangerous ones. Explaining that she was taking something like the law into her own hands. Daiyu pressed her lips together. Winnifred would do well among certain hunters. Plenty of others would spit on her for talking about these creatures as if they were humans deserving of a kind of mercy. Was it mercy? To lock them up? She wasn’t sure. She was trying to grasp what kind of person Winnifred was. A concerned human, a citizen who took matters into her own hands — or something more sinister? She looked at the other person in the room with them, trying to get what they were about. Sadly, Daiyu had never been very perceptive or understanding of others.

“Right,” she said. “No killing, just capturing. And then? You keep them there indefinitely, permanently? I am not interested in being a jailer.” She thought of the cages at home. Beasts scratching at bars, her father’s hand tense in her neck so she wouldn’t look away. There was no looking away, no matter how many miles she put between herself and Seattle. “I’m aware of the risks certain shifters and whatnot are to humans.” There remained a tenseness in her voice. “And I don’t mind taking those out of the equation. For a prize.” The money. She needed to let the money dictate what she did. She couldn’t be moved by memory or heart, by distaste or glory. She could be steely and greedy and let that be it. “What else would you want me to do?”

Alistair wasn’t sure how they felt about Daiyu’s reaction to the idea of keeping the supernatural locked up. In truth, Alistair wasn’t either. But it’s what they did to keep others alive, so they had learned to accept it. Winnifred allowed them to be taken by the necromancer for their healing, so they had learned to keep their mouth shut and their opinions to themselves. They were sure Winnifred liked it that way, though she kept that all-too-chipper exterior about her. It unnerved them. Finished making the tea, Alistair brought the two hot cups of lavender Earl Grey tea to the table and set them down for the two to grab at their leisure. “There.” They spoke curtly, keeping to their observer role rather than a talkative one.

“No killing, that’s right!” She replied with a bright smile on her face. “We keep them where they’re kept alive, and the innocent humans of our town are kept safe and away from the craziness that is our town.” Winnifred took a long sip from her drink, then made a face of pure bliss. “Ah, this is perfect, Al. Thanks!” She took another drink before putting the cup back down. “As to what you would be doing,” she began, pulling out a phone. Nondescript and simple.

“You would be in the field finding threats.” She began, holding to phone out to her. “It’s programmed with one number, and that’s the headquarters. You call that number, report a threat, and the rest of the team dispatches whoever would be most appropriate to deal with it.” She gave a bright smile, having all of this figured out from the very beginning. “I see your drive, your tenacity! I like it and want it on my team. I want you on my team.” Winnifred was leaning toward Daiyu with a bright smile on her face. “You can help make our town safe from the supernatural. You can help make our town normal.”

She wondered what Winnifred motivations were. Daiyu wanted them to be as plain as she presented them to be — she was a protector and went to the end of the earth to protect. It would be nice, wouldn’t it? If someone did these kinds of things not out of greed or power, but because they wanted to look after their community? There were plenty of hunters who spoke of codes and morals, but she always found that they fell short. At the end of the day plenty of them reveled in the hunt and the kill. She reveled in it, even if there was a dark shame in her gut.

She wanted that Winnifred was this simple. That humans were this simple. And maybe they were — maybe humans that hadn’t been raised in a family as her own could be that simple. Even if there was something misguided about it all. Wasn’t murder mercy sometimes? Wasn’t a definitive end better than a cage? But it was hard to imagine the other as something as dark and calculating as her father. It sounded good, at face value. Misguided, maybe, but good. And who was she to judge, anyway? She took bounties from strangers not knowing what motivated them. She hardly knew what motivated her these days.

Money. Right. Money.

Daiyu took the phone, didn’t offer the cup of tea a glance. “Alright,” she said. She could locate threats. “Sounds good. Any kind?” She turned the thing over in her hands, looked back up to Winnifred. She felt her chest grow tight as she leaned toward her. She wanted this warmth to be real and she let herself be swept up in it for a moment. The thought of being wanted, of cooperating on a team that served to protect, of not having to compete or fight tooth and nail. “I’d like to help.” She slid the phone in her pocket. “To keep the people safe. I’m in.” The tightness didn’t leave, but there was something else there too. She didn’t dare call it by its name, for optimism was always met with disappointment. “So what’s next? I’d like to see headquarters, sometime. Are there more team members to meet?” She seemed more eager now. She turned to Alistair, curious, “I assume you’re one? What is it you do?”

As Daiyu asked Winnifred if they were to locate any kind, Winnifred nodded her head. “Yep, any kind that you think disrupts the normal day-to-day goings on of this town.” She replied, clapping her hands together. Alistair struggled to keep themselves from rolling their eyes. Helping people, keeping people safe. There was none of that here. Winnifred from what he’d come to learn, was obsessed with normalcy. Anyone who disrupted that was unsafe in her mind. Alistair only did this for the free access to people. People they could use to heal those who came into their shop.

Winnifred nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yes, I’ll be sure to schedule a whole tour for you to see the keep.” She replied, plucking up her phone and scrolling through her calendar. “I’ll schedule that with you at some point.” Her voice trailed off as she began to think of logistics. “Great! You’ll do great things with us, and the people you’ll keep safe may not know to thank you, but they’d thank you if they knew.” She gave Daiyu a bright smile before turning to Alistair as they were asked a question.

“I’m a spellcaster,” he answered, severing the connection he used to keep an eye on Daiyu. “If they’re undead, that’s where I come in.” They explained, wanting to keep it vague. “Necromancer.” They finally said, knowing that if he were going to be working with the girl, she’d figure it out eventually. After all, they were in charge of them whether they liked it or not. “Been with Winnifred since close to the inception of her group.” Alistair wanted to frown. The idea that they were part of anything of this caliber was enough to make their skin crawl.

“As for team members,” Winnifred piped up, saving Alistair from having to talk about themselves even more than they already had. “There are a small amount of us. There’s Alistair here, myself as the head, and a handful of others. When you get the tour of the keep, you’ll meet them. I’ll make sure everyone’s schedules align.” She smiled again, looking between the necromancer and the ranger. “Anything else that you’d like to know before letting you go? I’ll send an email of contacts you’ll need and all the logistics. Stuff poor Alistair doesn’t need to be reminded of.”

It seemed Winnifred was hooked on the idea that the town should be a normal one, which was a bit of a hilarious thought. Daiyu had been in many a town and city over the past years, and not many were supernatural hotspots in the way Wicked’s Rest was. There really was a supernatural magnet in the earth here, or something. “Sounds logical enough,” she confirmed. She wasn’t sure how to start judging these things, as the Volkov code on who should be hunted was pretty simple: any creature.

She was overthinking it all a bit, trying to imagine that this keep should look like when something Winnifred said caught her attention. People would thank her if they knew, people would be kept safe. Wasn’t that what hunters were supposed to do? Sure, the creatures Daiyu hunted often posed a risk for animals, but she targeted them because of their bounty’s pricetag, not because she was very concerned with strangers she kept at more than an arm’s length. Or so she figured she ought to live, at least. “Awesome. I’ll just have to imagine the thank-yous, but knowing I’ve helped is great.”

She eyed the spellcaster with a hard to define look, somewhere between awe and distaste. She sometimes worked for spellcasters, getting them the things they needed for their potions — but the whole raising people and such from the death thing was wrong. Generally speaking magic made her uncomfortable, though. “Cool,” she replied, “Makes sense. Nice to meet you, then.” She offered a grin.

As Winnifred spoke of email addresses and schedules Daiyu felt a mild urge to run. It sounded very bureaucratic. She hoped she didn’t need a desk. “Nah, everything’s clear,” she said. “If I’ve got any questions I know how to reach you. I’ll get started on my new tasks as soon as possible.” She hesitated a moment. “Thanks, for trusting me with this.”

Alistair watched Daiyu’s discomfort through Brutus’s eyes. They weren’t hurt or surprised, it was the reaction they always expected. They simply nodded their head in response. Winnifred continued to type in her phone, probably scheduling something or other, and then put her phone down with a bright smile on her face. “Welcome to the inner circle, then!” She pushed her hand out and then took Daiyu’s shaking it vigorously before dropping it and going back to her phone. “We will be in touch. We ask that you keep this the utmost secret. The last thing we need is people thinking we’re the bad guys.” She stared pointedly at Daiyu, searching for any piece of distrust in her. When she was satisfied that she’d found none, she nodded her head with a satisfied smile.

“Well, we don’t want to keep too much of poor Alistair’s time!” She suddenly announced, clapping her hands together and causing Alistair to jump slightly at the sudden noise. Alistair made a face in response to their own fear. They severed the connection with Brutus, a wave of exhaustion hitting as soon as the spell stopped casting. Brutus seemed to relax a little as well. They hated channeling that spell for longer than necessary. Even more so, they were glad that Winnifred decided to leave before she got a new idea that the new hub of operation should be Alistair’s shop. That was something they’d never allow. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Daiyu,” Alistair spoke with a polite smile. Though it didn’t reach their eyes, it was hidden away behind their sunglasses. They grappled with the fact that this operation was getting bigger and bigger, but at least there was someone else who was able to take a little of the weight off of their own shoulders. The less responsibility there was for this band of vigilantes, the better they seemed to feel about it. Anything for their own bottom line, they kept reminding themselves. They just hoped that Daiyu was someone Winnifred could genuinely learn to trust.

#A Good Neighbor Indeed #threads #bountyhaunter #ft: good neighbors

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