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[ashfilledsoul-blog]

carasoliz‌:

There was something disconcerting and saddening about this woman who seemed so old and so troubled. Carina lived over a century so she could read body language quite effectively. There was nothing about this vampire in her body language or in her tone of voice that was welcoming to feeling a different way or changing her views - at least not right now. She was set on her opinion that she could live her life chaotically - completely ignoring the good that she could do and the good she could get from it.

It was disappointing… but Carina was no savior. She could not do more than share her own thoughts with her and hope for the best. She had even gone as far to prove a point by offering her own blood but it didn’t seem that she was willing to take it. The reasoning for it upset Carina because she just kept insisting the best thing to do was force people to become nothing more than meals. How could she build relationships that way, Cara wondered. How could she be happy?

“Mermaid,” Cara answered easily, putting her arm down and furrowing her brows at the other. “I hope you know that if you ever try to hurt another in my presense again, I must stop you. Land or water, I’m a healer all the same and I will not look away from someone who needs my help. I do not care that you must drink something else that does not taste as good.”

It was easier this way. Easier to present herself as barbed wire and towering heights wrapped around an empty shell. This girl was a self proclaimed healer after all...those types liked to latch on to charity cases, liked to jump on the first sign of emotion and try to cleanse the wounds of the soul. Ash didn’t need some spiritual dousing of peroxide, she didn’t need this girl to try to save her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any people that appealed to the softer side of her nature, it wasn’t as if she only ever jumped on a meal without seeing the person underneath…

God...why was she trying to justify herself to this creature who obviously had a puritanical viewpoint of the world. “Mermaid,” she answered, the barest hint of accusation in her tone. “Well you might be a healer with a bleeding heart but I’ve certainly heard tales that your kind can snatch a human life up with just as little thought as any of my kind.” Wasn’t it funny….funny how big a difference the drinking of blood made. Two wolves could tear each other to shreds, humans murdered each other all the time, but the vampires were the ones that got all the high horse morality bullshit because they were physically nourished by the bloodshed.

“If you’re hoping for some promise that I’m never going to get moody and want to hear someone scream before I sink my teeth into their neck you won’t get it.” Honestly she felt bad for the mermaid. This place was going to eat her alive. There was always someone being hurt, there were a thousand ways and reasons for the blood staining the streets. And if she thought she was going to waltz around town and tell every angry hungry creature to be nicer...she was going to need more than some song magic and water magic to save herself. “But I’ll certainly avoid any streets you’re walking down when I need a meal, so I suppose your words landed a bit, didn’t they?”

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

krovlyubila‌:

It had always been apparent that she was not like the rest of her bloodline; where many found beauty in arts or literature, her tastes were far more… bloody. To Anastasia, there was so much beauty to be found in the art of murder, the sounds of suffering before the last light left a person’s eyes. It was the equivalent of an intense short film, each passing second filled with vibrance that she wished to preserve forever – alas, mortals could only suffer for so long. Thus to prolong her euphoric thrill was to repeat the action over again, each night a new short-lived danse macabre. 

Tonight was such a night, guiding her latest victim into the arms of death with no less flair than she was used to. Taking a few steps back to admire her handiwork, a grotesque smile grew upon the forever-young woman’s features. This was true beauty. Before she could admire it fully however, the sound of footsteps tore her from her moment of murderous bliss. Retreating towards the shadows, Anastasia prepared herself for hostility.

Yet hostility never came. Instead, it seemed a curious stranger had opted for a similar location for such a deed. Remaining against the wall, shrouded by the shadows, she nodded her head to the other with a respect she held only for those of her own kind. “What would be the fun in playing with a body post mortem?” she cooed, lightly kicking at the corpse with the toe of her boot. “It was far more fun to watch him suffocate slowly – I do love watching the moment that hope dies, when they realise their mortal end is coming and can only embrace it.”

She had often wondered what it was like to fear death: even as a child she had known it to be no less than a friend, always by her side in times of need. A sigh escaped her as she realised her fun was over, though she had a particular feeling that this stranger would keep her occupied for the time being. Peering over the blonde’s shoulder, Anastasia raised her eyebrows. 

“Since you brought a gift, I can show you – if you like.”

Vampire’s were protective after their kills, in a way they were sometimes most vulnerable after a feeding. Minds blown wide by the thrill of the kill, almost high off the blood, they were unfocused and messy and there were precious second long windows where they were easy to take advantage of. Ash didn’t see that post kill bliss in the other woman, which meant she’d been finishing this masterpiece for a while. She didn’t kill and dump, she spent time worshiping the aftermath of death as much as the actively occurring process. How very very intriguing.

“Oh there’s plenty of fun to be had...in thinking about the moment the body gets found,” Ash offered, casual kick of her toe against a stray piece of gravel. “When a body isn’t just dead but has been hijacked, rearranged, defiled...oh you can hear the families scream for miles, you can taste the horror in the air. “ Both...Ash liked a little of both, agreed with the blonde that those final moments were a special kind of intimacy. But when you played puzzle pieces you extended the psychological joy of it for another day or so before the buzz wore off and you needed a fresh kill.

Since you brought a gift....oh....that’s right. Ash had almost forgotten about the little morself she’d brought with her.

“Don’t be rude, darling, say hello to our new friend,” she ordered, reaching to grab the human by the back of the neck and push him forward. The compulsion was beginning to fade, to slide off of him. She could hear his heartbeat starting to gain momentum, his movements become frightened and jerky.

“It’s been a while since I’ve played well with others during mealtime, but I’d love to see you in action.”

Art in Life and Death

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

juliettelikethesun‌:

She had bet on the woman every single time. She would have continued if the woman had stayed in the ring. She had strongly considered registering for a few fights herself, but had backed out in order to watch the action. Maybe another night, she would happily crawl into the ring, let out a little pent up aggression, but for now, she sat at the bar and watched the grace that the other blonde seemed to exude when she fought. Each move was absolutely calculated. Each step lithe. Each shot a powerplay for an upperhand. 

Juliette would have loved to match her blow for blow. Perhaps not in the ring, but it would be quite the thrill to take on someone that could clearly hold her own. An entire series could come out of just watching this woman fight. Juliette almost wished she had grabbed a notebook to take notes on the night. Ah well, cest la vie.

She hadn’t realized that she had finished her drink until the blonde woman had joined her at the bar, and spoke before she could ask for another. Juliette simply offered a nod of her head, twisting to watch the woman with interest for a long moment before bypassing her question entirely. “You’re quite the athlete. Always satisfying to watch a woman put a man in his place.” As a fresh drink was placed before her, Juliette’s fingers curled around the glass, lifting it to her lips. “Just how much money do you think the idiots here would throw at us if we went one on one? Might be a more thrilling challenge than some of the fools they pit you against tonight.”

The post fight adrenaline never lasted long enough. During a fight she was one with her body, she felt every cell working together for a common goal, she felt in control. Ash could feel that buzz swiftly ebbing, eaten up by the emptiness inside her. Maybe she could stretch it out a little longer, water it down with booze and this intriguing blonde. Her commentary was promising, she might be someone Ash could have an extended conversation with and not imagine murdering. Wouldn’t that be something? “It’s one satisfaction I can never get enough of. How many more centuries do you think we’ll have to spend wiping the floor with men until they realize we’re a force to be reckoned with? My guess is at least two more.”

A one on one...ooo her mind sizzled with the thought of it, energies renewed. “I’d imagine they’d toss every dollar bill and penny in their pockets,” she answered, taking a sip from her own glass. A girl that wanted to throw down. For all Ash knew she could have been all bark and no bite, but no...no the vampire had a good feeling about this one. That they could go toe to toe for hours, for dies, intricate sparring, evenly matched, evenly tested. “If you’re asking if I’d be interested in such a scenario my answer is hell yes.”

Blondes Have More Fun

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Amanda Seyfried

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Blondes Have More Fun

@juliettelikethesun

The Pit was extra testosterone laden tonight. When Ash had first arrived and claimed a spot, she’d had no intention of fighting herself. By the third round she’d grown bored by the copy paste easy to predict matches. They were all pomp and circumstance, anger and puffed up ego. No real skill percent anywhere. She wanted to wipe their smug boy’s club grins away with a double edged razor. “You’re not really dressed to fight.” That’s what an idiot tried to tell her when she went to register. Ash set him straight with some colorful language and a twisting of his wrist. She was properly registered then, and moved up the queue to boot. Funny how people got so accommodating once you threatened to shove their own foot up their ass.

She owned the first match...and the second...and the third. Her lithe frame darted with finesse, she dragged it out and made it fun, took her opponents apart piece by piece. It was probably the most of the voyeurs bet against her the first few fights, but by the fifth they knew better. Ash had no interest in the money, waved away her cut when she was satisfied she’d shown these idiots what a fight should look like. A glow of power, of residue adrenaline, lingered as she left the ring and headed for the bar. Stray strands of hair were recollected into her ponytail as she ordered a drink. A blonde beside her caught her eyes...one of the only other women in The Pit.

“Her next drink is on me,” the vampire insisted as the bartender came to collect the woman’s empty glass. A smile was directed towards her. “You’re a new face,” she observed. “I take it you’re a recent addition to this picturesque little slice of hell”

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Art in Life and Death

@krovlyubila

It wasn’t that murder was absolutely forbidden in Ashbourne, more that you had to be smart about it. If someone stepped into the ring with you at The Pit and you tore through their skull like it was made of paper mache, no one thought twice. If someone lingered after dark and you coaxed them out of view well...shadows didn’t tattle in this town. Vampires fed without killing, out of fear or personal preference, but if you really wanted the feel of that last weak crimson pulse against your tongue then you could have it. The rule of thumb was to know your prey. Don’t go after the obviously powerful or the obviously weak. Both types tended to cultivate allies and become noticed figures. When Ash hunted to kill she went for the invisible middles, the new people that hadn’t had a chance to make ties yet, the just strong enough people that were easily forgettable.

Ashley hadn’t even bothered to ask for the name of the man she was currently leading to his death. Dark green eyes, yummy tubble that trailed off right at her favorite feeding spot. Blood sizzled, it was alive and embodied the flavor of the host. Nothing tasted better than fear...the spice when they struggled, the heady sweetness when they accepted their demise and prayed for it be over. She planned to keep him compelled until they reached the unlit back alley behind the bar.

“Oh.”

She stopped so suddenly that her midnight snack stumbled into her. It appeared this prime time murder spot was taken already. A knowing grin of appreciation smoothed across her usually neutral expression as she took in the rather exquisite mess. Not a drop of blood had been spilled, but Ash could see the fang marks. More impressive were the odd shapes making the throat stick out at odd angles. “Fingers?” she guessed, tone wicked and appreciative. “Did you do that before or after the final breath? Either way, heavens what a display.”

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Possessions

@entropyaboveall

Sometimes she got restless on her free nights. The safe space that was her sparring gym would feel just a little claustrophobic. Frenetic energy would push her outside into the slowly warming nights, the vampire making her way to the edge of the woods. Occasionally she’d just stand there staring, but tonight she had a bag of knives with her. Target practice against the aged trunks of the forest’s edge was oddly satisfying, and sometimes if she lingered long enough an Echo or a Boggart would show up, curious about the noise. Moving targets were always more fun, and even if she didn’t hit anything, it was a nice way to release tension.

Thunk. Tonight she’d had nothing but bark. Her dagger glinted in the moonlight as she pulled it from the likely offended trunk of a birch. She’d been stuck in this town for two years now...two years and it felt like she was half asleep, half desiccated. It would all be worth it though, if this shit with August worked out. Deciding she was done with target practice, Ash wiped the blade off on her pants and turned, intending to call it a night and head home. Instead she froze, frame on alert at the sight of a figure beside her bag of weapons. Eyes narrowed, she was protective of her things.

“Sneaking up on folks is dangerous in this town,” she offered, taking a step towards the male. “Can I help you with something? I mean, I likely won’t, but  you could ask.”

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Blood and Bouquets

@doctorsugar

The delivery boy had called out, and while Ashley had spent the initial thirty seconds contemplating removing every bone from his body in retaliation for the trouble, ultimately she had a business to run. Poppy was...not an entirely hopeless employee, but Ash certainly trusted her more in the shop than in the truck. So she was out making deliveries herself, the air around her smelling of blood and bouquets. The blood was not part of the flower arrangements. In the passenger seat was her dinner, a compelled gentleman she’d grabbed off the street. She nibbled delicately between deliveries, and while he was in no immediate danger of exsanguination, the smell of his blood was a potent perfume.

Ash dabbed the crimson from her lips as she pulled up to Bellevue. Funerals made up a good fifty percent of her business with the town’s hospitals making up another firty. In a town like this everyone broke their mind or their body sooner or later. The amount of arrangements in the truck that were for Bellevue told Ash this month was an example of sooner. “Stay here,” she ordered her to-go dinner. “Anyone approaches you just smile and tell them you’re waiting for me.”

Six bouquets in a little cart, the wheels squeaking as Ash delivered five of them to patient rooms. The six though, was for a Ms. Kowalczyk. An exhausted looking med nurse pointed Ashley towards an employee office. She stopped to survey the plaque outside the door and grimaced. A shrink, oh how off putting. The idea of people trying to heal people by poking around in their heads was intently disconcerting to the vampire. Still business was business and the vampire knocked, forcing  a smile as she entered. “Ms. Kowalcyk, you must have a very pleased client. This is one of my most expensive arrangements.” Cellophane wrapped present in hand, she approached the desk. “It’s freshly watered and should last you a full week before it starts to wilt.”

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

poppyxxlemay‌:

@ashfilledsoul

The day hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot. In a dismal attempt to make life easier for her new roommate – that never got old – she had wanted to make a nice breakfast for them. Well…life was never easy when in inexperienced Poppy was involved. Instead of an alarm clock filling the home, it was the fire alarm screaming throughout the house. Burnt eggs, burnt coffee, and burnt toast were all Poppy had to show of her effort. Trying to help clean had resulted in her being later than usual to her job. 

Oh, the job. That was a whole new hurdle in her very fragmented and overcomplicated life. When she had first got the job it was like being thrown into a pool without having known how to swim. The money, the people, the plants, the procedures, the everything, had all been too much for her. Overwhelmed, she had spent that first day crying in a broom closet. Always too scared to do something wrong. 

While nearly flying into work she quickly tied her apron around herself and went about watering the plants quickly before the store officially opened. While the fear of work slowly went away with the slowly moving month, one fear remained. Her boss. While a usually pleasant and distant woman, the smell of death lingered heavily on her cold skin. ‘Always be scared of them,’ was what her mother had filled in her head. Vampires. The natural enemy of the werewolf. Why? Poppy never really knew, but she still kept her distance and head down in the presence of the vampire. 

Poppy, always one to be lost in thought, had barely noticed the gentle collision of her elbow with a pot. Her senses were a little too late and by the time she turned around the pot was already broken on the floor. Dirt all over the ground, and the little plant exposed to the world, naked. Squeaking to herself she knelt down and tried to scoop up the pieces, her shoulders tensed as a shoulder began to loom over her. 

“I-I’m sorry Ashley. I don’t know how this happened.” She all but whimpered, chewing on her lip and too worried to turn around. 

It could be said that Ashley Statham did not make for the easiest person to work for. There was the tiniest chance she might have eaten her first every applicant to the shop. In her defense he hadn’t finished the paperwork so it wasn’t official, and he’d been very rude. If you couldn’t eat the rude people who could you eat, really? After that initial bump though, she’d found an assistant manager, a pleasant charming 60 year old grandmother named Ellie. Her base staff was made out of a lot of students with varying levels of availability but goddamn she’d had the perfect schedule sorted out till Bernadette decided she wanted to focus on her college studies full time.

The position had gone unfilled with zero interest shown. It was almost as if maybe she’d gotten a reputation for being a bit on the cross side with her employees. But then came Poppy all wide eyed and nervous and soft spoken and eager to learn. It was like setting a wounded zebra down in front of a lioness and asking her not to pounce. Ash’s nature couldn’t deny impulse to make her jump, to make her panic. She wasn’t going to eat this particular morsel of food but she was definitely going to play with her a little.

When the sound of the pot shattering strained it’s way through the wood door of her office and to her ears, Ash bounded out ready to lay into the girl. Dagger shaped syllables were ready warriors waiting for permission to attack. But then she saw how absolutely wrecked the girl was, and how mostly fine the plant was, and decided to let her flare for dramatics retreat a little. Push Poppy too hard and she might leave...and truth be told she had potential to be an asset.

“You do know what happened,” she countered, voice stiff but not as barbed as it usually was. “You were daydreaming instead of paying attention and you knocked it over. You must take immediate and detailed responsibility for your mistakes, Poppy, otherwise you will not properly learn from them.” Her arms crossed against her chest, assessing. No harm done that couldn’t be undone. “Go to the supply closet and get a new pot and the broom. We will clean this mess up and then I’ll take the opportunity to give you a lesson in repotting plants.”

Grow Through || Poppy&&Ashley

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

prozny‌:

“Got it.” There was a softness in the way she looked at him that he didn’t know what to do with, so he did nothing, pretending it wasn’t there, like he had so many times before when people showed him affection and he looked the other way. Convinced that it was something he wanted nothing to do with. Turned out it was useful too, from time to time. “Yeah, she’s not doing great with it, but she’s trying.” She talked about Malachi and how much he cared and he didn’t know what to make of that. “Well, he’s avoiding me so… Forgive me if I don’t care.”

Once she began her tale, he wondered whether she was speaking of Ariana. Sounded so familiar. But the witch was some guy with a kink for old books. “The Blood Tree is a summoning device now? Why didn’t you tell me that sooner! There are so many delivery guys I could summon. I’m craving some Papa John’s at this very moment.” It was a joke, but he ran with it. “No, but I know all the shitty patrons in town. I’ll make you a list.” Henryk offered her a smile. “Wanna grab a drink? I got some booze in that cabinet,” he said, pointing it out.

Ash spoke the language of the emotionally constipated as fluently as Henryk did. It didn’t bother her that he brushed it off, in fact she was grateful for it. Having affection swan dive off your tongue without your conscious consent was awkward enough without having the other person take hold and make a conversation out of it. “A for effort isn’t normally your style, Henryk. Crack that whip and let her know if your shit isn’t sorted neither is hers.” She rolled her eyes and let it go when he brushed off her Mal talk. Honestly she wasn’t in a position to die on a hill singing the other vampire’s praises right now anyway, but she knew her friend. Of course he cared. And Malachi cared too. They’d sort themselves out, sloppily and probably with casualties, but they hadn’t made it this far to fall apart now.

“Oh shut up you idiot, she shot back, a playful push on Henryk’s shoulder. “i don’t know if it’ll actually work. It’s like whatever the fuck the tree is I’m going to try and hijack it. Might end horrifically for all involved, but if I go what a way to go, amiright?” Brows furrowed and she gave a dramatic tut. “Also Papa John’s...no...no, Sir. Dominoes delivery guys taste less like weed and pubescent hormones.” Ash didn’t need to be asked twice about booze. She rose to claim the bottle from the cabinet. “Shitty is good. I need a shitty and strong power combo,” she clarified as she sat back down and offered the bottle to Henryk first.

Sliding Scales

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

ozheik‌:

This lady was a little horrifying, but he stood his ground. The dead fish whose scales had became  Oz’s variation of corn on the cob seemed to be giving him some sort of courage. He tried to search her face for her mood, but instead figured that was a bad idea. She looked like Quackert when the duckling first woke up hangry and demanded food. “Ahh …no…” Oz repeated with a firm nod. A minute taken to stare at her own feet to admire her shoes. The nervousness dissolved mostly into his compliant and kind nature. “Shirt..yes..” He nodded and chewed harder on the dead fish. The scale and bones crunch underneath his teeth as he eyed the bag of chips.

Oz clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he listened to the plethora of words that followed. He glanced down to the bag of chips and took a small break from the partial eaten fish. “Freee-to Lays?” He asked the blonde and held out the chip bag, and tried to calm down Quackert whom became upset with he loud crackle sound of the bag. “What..is ahhh an-ahh-rii-ssss-mmmm?” He inquired and followed him to the self-checkout machine.

The words on the screen mostly gibberish, but he stepped close enough so that the bag of chips scanned with a resounding BEEP. It caused him to jump slightly as it beeped again. Innocent blues turn to look at the grumpy woman with a shake of his head. “Ahhh..have… dis.” He replied and set the bag of chips on the thing that beeped, which caused it to beep again over and over. He wrestled out of his jean pocket a couple of pennies and looked to her for validation.

“Not just shirt,” Ash corrected. “You need shirt, shoes, and pants...all three things. They work together.” She interlocked her fingers, a visual aid to assist in the language barrier. Maybe. What the fuck did she know, after all, as someone who could barely manage to communicate with people who spoke English just fine. She jabbed her finger towards a nearby trash can. “I think you should lose the fish. Look around, use your eyes. Is anyone else here eating? no. People buy food here but they don’t eat here. You’re scaring people, you’re making them nervous.”

The bag crinkled in her grasp and she was kind of glad for the duck. It was like this dude’s fuzzy, annoying emotional support critter, and it kept him busy for the moment. “yeah, frito lays. We like to make a lot of food with different shapes and flavors and give them their own name.” She laughed at his attempt at pronouncing aneurysm. “Don’t worry about it, it’s sarcasm...oh for fuck’s sake!” The idiot had set the chips right on the scanner and by the time Ash grabbed them it looked like they were buying 10 bags of Fritos. “If you don’t know what something is or how to use it, find someone who is smiling and looks like they know what they’re doing and ask for help. The bleeding hearts here love providing assistance and they will go gaga over your puppy eyes. Someone will adopt you as a charity case.”

She deleted the extra scans just in time to be offered a few pennies. He looked so hopeful that she sighed and took the stupid things. “Sure...cool. When you’re picking up words better ask someone to explain money. Round coins get you less than green paper.” Ash pulled out a five dollar bill and showed it to him. “You want green paper like this. With faces in the middle and numbers in the corners.” She fed the bill into the machine and then shoved the chips at him. “All this trouble you better fucking love these things.”

Policies

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

yonderyears‌:

“The world hasn’t taken me yet, little spark. And don’t you forget, I have been stuck in much worse situations than a town like this. I don’t intend to leave you until you give the word.” Trapped in a mausoleum, almost burned at the stake, almost staked. Over four thousand plus years you have a tendency to pick up enemies. Moyses just happened to outlive them all. Be it luck or skill, he’d made it this far. 

“We will figure this out together. We have all the time in the world, and a world is what’s waiting for us on the other side. There must be a reason She had brought me to you.” She, in this case, being the way that Moyses often referred to Fate, the hand of the universe. A guiding tenant he followed. The closest he ever came to a true religion. It was less about a deity and more about the idea that destiny and fate are very nimble fingered things. Very casual events having much larger meaning in the grand scheme of things. All roads lead somewhere, and what is life but one big road we walk down. 

“Now my little spark, can you tell an old man where he might find some new clothes. I’ve been in this floral shirt for almost a week now.” 

Moyses was one of the few souls Ashley didn’t often argue with. He had lived so long, after all, that experience and perception dictated he was almost always right. But in this case, she disagreed. He’d never been in a town like this, no one had Ashbourne was a constantly coalescing cesspool of magic and darkness. There was no point in disagreeing out loud though. Moyses was kinder than Ash, but in his own way  he was equally stubborn. Nothing she said was going to stop him from stepping around this town with familiar relaxed confidence, as if he’d lived here always. Sometimes he acted like the world was something he had willed into being,e very action and reaction sifted through him with precision, no surprises available because he’d written the script. So she bit her tongue around the knowledge that this town could take him at any point. If they were all on death row why not humor him?

Little spark. A cheesy nickname like that from anyone else would have been cause for violence. Ash didn’t let herself laugh, but there was a warmth in the way she rolled her eyes. “You say that like you won’t just trade this floral shirt in for another one.” He had a style that Ash had always described as a merge of boho chic and dad shirt flair. Composing herself, Ash gestured up the street and began walking. “You want ‘A Stitch in Time’. Kolya will have you sorted in record time.” He was here, he was here and in this present moment she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t care, but maybe in time she’d get used to it. Be able to tolerate him without falling to pieces. “How long have you been here? Do you have lodgings already?”

Long and Lost

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Amanda Seyfried

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

Text Ash and Allison

Allison: ....

Allison: because you're the bee's knees?

Allison: and bees love plants?

Ash: Is that so? Because I got the distinct impression you were drunk texting me.

Ash: Did you go out and imbibe all by yourself? I'm not sure whether to be impressed by your tenacity or concerned.

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

yonderyears‌: 

He felt the younger vampire before he heard her. The frenetic energy waving from her was enough that even a human could probably have felt it. The words reverberated in his mind, in his heart, and if he had one, his soul. For the first time in a long time his face drew long. An aching sadness welled up. It was one thing to not see an old friend in a while, it was another entirely for them to be gone with out knowing. 

Moyses turned to face her, something apologetic about his stance. If he’d been there, maybe, maybe something would be different. In a swift action, something between stern and sweet he cupped her head in his hand and pulled her close to do something he’d not done in a long time. 

He held Ash there. Really held her. Time could have ceased to exist, the world itself could have began to fall apart and he would still keep a hold onto her. He knew the way the world felt when the pieces were taken away. Like you could fall off at any moment, you needed an anchor. And she’d been doing this alone. 

“You are allowed to not be okay.” He kissed the top of her head then rested his chin in the same spot. “I’m here Ash, I’m here.” He hoped she understood the fervor with which he spoke. An intensity he didn’t show often, if ever anymore. Moyses may have loved many, but he rarely actually let people into his heart. That was reserved for a select few. Usually the ones he ended up taking a name from. 

“I’m here.”

She let him hold her.

Not only that, but she wrapped her arms around Moyses in return, rested her head against his chest, closed her eyes tight and began to cry.

That had never happened before, never. In the past she had entertained his arms wrapping around her for brief moments she would soon wriggle her way out of. She had never wanted to need comfort or affirmation. And now in this moment, even though she knew she needed this, she didn’t want it. She was utterly terrified of it.

“That just scares me more,” she answered, voice muffled and choked in the way of his steadily repeated confession. People were there until they weren’t, they were there until they were taken from you. The chances were tenfold in this cesspool of a town. “If you don’t get murdered by another species here...this fucking town will break you down till you’re practically dead anyway. I don’t want you to be here, Moyses. I want you to be off wandering the grassy hills of Ireland or something cheesy and poetic and broody.”

Long and Lost

[ashfilledsoul-blog]

ashfilledsoul‌:

prozny‌:

He wished she wasn’t so nice to him. He was tired of nice, and even more sick of avoidance. It was irritating to him that Malachi had sent her over to comfort him, but kept on disappearing. Like he needed a chaperone or something. Someone to hold his hand and get him through this. “Fine,” he begrudgingly agreed, setting the papers down on the desk in front of him. “I’ll tell you. I’ve got to warn you though… there’s always something wrong, and when I say always I do mean always. You’re gonna regret this moment when I drag you out of bed to deal with my problems, I’m just saying.”

Henryk didn’t laugh at the lover’s joke. “I actually almost killed him. Completely accidentally. I was just starving.” He felt bad about it, and that was an unusual feeling for someone like him to experience. He didn’t care about most of the bad things he did, but they usually only amused Malachi, they never hurt him. “And you know what — I still might.” He couldn’t really blame the guy for avoiding him, but he still he resented it.

The vampire threw a look between his company and her pendant. “What the fuck are you planning on doing with that thing?”  

“We’ll both be grateful,” Ash corrected with a fiercely raised brow. “You’d have to drag me from bed five hours earlier to fill me in on three months of information you’d been hiding from me. Keep me in the loop and that just means when you need me I’ll be able to be there without a debrief.” She wondered if he knew that she didn’t mind being dragged out of bed for him. Was she supposed to say it out loud? Did her lips have to actually form the word “friend”? Ash had always imagined if she said it out loud he would frown like she’d cursed him.

Ashley’s face sobered immediately. After all, she knew the pain of starvation, what it felt like to not be able to keep down that which you needed to keep alive. “Starvation is ... I’ve dealt with it too,” she answered, staring down at the desk. “I never want to experience it again. Does things to you...erases all your strengths and makes all your weaknesses and rages run rampant. I wouldn’t wish that on you ever.” Her fingers tapped against the desk, the barest sound of nails, just one time...the pointer, the middle, the ring, the pinky making almost a sigh. “You still working with the witch that helped you cast the initial spell? They’re probably your best bet at maintenance or a solution...if there even is one.” That worried her, of course, the idea that she might have to watch Henryk waste away. “He wouldn’t have bitten my head off so hard if he didn’t care,” she offered. From what she could tell, Malachi was very single minded when he wanted to fix something. And if his fixing had caused a whole new problem to arise she could only imagine he was snapping in half with a sense of guilt. But she was in no position to talk with Henryk about his boyfriend. That was sacred territory and it felt like he was annoyed with her presence as it was.

Her eyes glinted with a somber mixture of nerves and anticipation as Henryk queried about the pendant. Ash let her finger trace the shell of it as she contemplated how much detail she wanted to add into the answer. “Well I’ll tell you the part I’ve got figured out so far. I’ve found a witch who was properly tickled pink at the prospect of trying to deal with an original piece of spellwork, something wholly unique and hand crafted. I told him about the distant relative I’d tracked down and the first step is to try and find her. Next full moon I’m going to try to tap into the blood tree...use it to call her here. And then once I’ve got her...experimentation...a lot of it...and her blood, of course.” She leaned back in the chair, lazy body language opposing the magnitude of her words, the possibility of them. “I’m supposed to bring someone to sacrifice. Got any lazy employees you want me to take off your hands?”

Sliding Scales