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. The Banshee's Wail .

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.:ooc

calling Vicky a "hunter" of the Supernatural feels so dramatic because her only viable fighting skills consist of biting, kicking, scratching and throwing mean comments

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For a moment they stare at each other. The bruised and bloodied girl on the ground, and the strange pale boy scrutinizing her just as much as she is scrutinizing him. It's driving her mildly insane, this biting feeling in the back of her nose telling her that he reminds her of someone for sure. And somehow, Vicky knows, if only she can find out who that is, she would be able to make sense of this entire scenario.

Suddenly, he reaches out his hand, and it is in that moment that the biting feeling ambushes her from behind. She sneezes.

Ah. Maybe not a hunch after all, but simply dust still dancing in the still air. Whatever. She looks at the hand floating in front of her eyes, then glances back up at the stranger's face. Her surprise only halts her for a moment before she accepts the hand and lets herself be pulled back to her feet. Her scraped knees and palms ache in the most terrible way that only superficial wounds can.

"Ow. Fuck. Those were brand-new..." She huffs, if only to buy herself time the two of them definitely do not have. The crippled body oozing with blood only a few meters from them is difficult to ignore, and yet she cannot bring herself to inspect it more closely. Instead, she decides to tune out the sirens and the iron stench and focus solely on the boy instead. What's dead is dead, anyway.

"Thank you. For saving me, anyway." Granted, her plan of making a heroic entrance herself has pitifully failed, but it's not like the thing or the boy had given her much time to prepare. "I'm Vicky." She offers him a tilted glance. "What's your name?"

Gaara, who can claim no expertise in first aid, or aid of any type that does not involve leveling an unknown opponent or perhaps a small city worth of buildings into rubble, peers at her inscrutably.

She is not suffering the immediate throes of death, he estimates, given the lack of unexpected orifices on her body and the lack of blood flowing from therein. She more resembles a cornered mouse who has decided to be nonchalant about its predicament. But a mouse exists to be eaten, nonchalance aside.

His toes clench and unclench an inchworm dance in the confines of his sneakers. Ultimately, it comes down to the fact that Gaara has no particular reason to kill her. That, and he's tired.

He stands and offers her a hand.

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She has seen him before. She did not realise this at first, but looking at him now she remembers exactly how she spotted his pallid features near the subway the day before. He reminds her of someone, though who that was she cannot tell. The blood on his temple catches her attention - a mesmerizing trail of red - before the toppling signpost startles her awake. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

There is no way nobody heard that. Already Vicky can hear sirens blaring in the distance, though for all she knows those might not even be aimed at them. Either way, she needs to think, and quickly so. Adrenaline is still chasing through her veins like prey, and the hair on the back of her neck stands at full attention.

The boy seems strangely calm for a guy who just dug up and crushed an an entire playground worth of gravel with a single flick of his finger. Vicky coughs a little.

"Been worse", she mutters, and it is not a lie. The cold amulet rests heavily on her chest underneath her t-shirt. "Not planning on dying just yet. Why? You wanna help that?"

In the midst of the fray he had noticed the girl in the same way that a tsunami might notice a tugboat. The park around them lies in a similar state of disarray: Uprooted saplings and great swaths of disturbed earth serve a dire warning for any unfortunate passerby, and another for Gaara himself should he linger too long. He has long learned the benefits of going unnoticed.

Gaara drops into a catlike crouch and the sand moves with him. It sways uneasily about his feet as he peers at her from a generous distance, this strange girl caught up in matters she best ought to have left alone. When he scratches his temple his knuckles come away wet. He wipes them on his pants, which smears bright red down the back of his hand, his forearm. The effect is stark against skin so sallow that the thought of the sun feels like a dream.

"You're hurt," he informs her. His voice is rusty, as though he has not used it in some time. Somewhere by the main path, a battered signpost keels over in surrender with one final, hair-splitting squeal. "Will you die?"

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It is one of these moments in which Vicky Bouchard - a girl who has never believed in regret becoming relevant before your thirtieth birthday - falters, and curses a decision she made. Her whole body aches. She is lying face-down in gravel, her lungs desperately searching for the wind that got knocked out of them. The leather jacket that she wears like armor had protected her arms and shoulders from the fall - something her bloodied tights cannot not say for themselves.

It's not fair, she thinks. She had not even actively been on the hunt. Just trying to go for a walk. Clear her head. Pick up some food for the team. Scoffing at Nanouk's warning to not go out alone this late. As if she is just an ordinary girl without a gun, or a magic amulet, or silver bullets meant to put down actual werewolves. As if she is just a civilian.

Well. Right now, she certainly feels like one. Not that she has ever been a fighter, but the absolute ease with which that thing had tossed her aside reminded her again that, when it comes down to it, she may as well be just a pretty rag doll. That thought hurts worse than her bruised ribs, or the foot nudging her now.

"Ow..."

Slowly, she pushes herself up on her hands and knees. Whatever or whoever this cursed boy is, and whatever happened to that creature that launched at him from the dark... if they do not want for Vicky to survive the night, there is nothing she can do about it anyway. Might as well take her time.

The boy comes into view after a few moments. In the fuzzy light of the park lanterns, he looks almost gaunt... not the most threatening silhouette for sure. But such impressions can be treacherous. Her gaze falls onto the thing bleeding out onto the gravel. "Ooh shiiit." She sighs more than she swears.

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Gaara pants like his lungs are falling out of his chest. It's mostly adrenaline, a side of physical effort, hold the panic. He is too well-trained for panic. The thing - that thing - lies lifeless or near-lifeless some meters away, the dark-soaked patch around it blooming outward, matting the grass, tinging the air metallic on the tongue.

He refocuses on the girl slumped against the bench. The one still moving, against all odds. The fight is over, but he is a rampaging bull force-fed a sedative, he is a rollercoaster halfway down the slope and someone has hit the emergency brake. For one terrible moment her life, too, hangs in the balance; he is not too well-trained to make mistakes.

This moment passes in the sound of his slowing breaths and the dull hum of traffic. Then it is her he approaches with unsteady knees, eyes all whites. To say he towers above her would be something of an exaggeration, but the nudge of his shoe against her hip is none too gentle.

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Venice - Venice

Feel free to change pronouns !!

"Am I all alone?"

"I was in the wrong."

"You shared my soul."

"I'll take you from here."

"I don't wanna be here."

"It's so hard to be strong."

"I don't look like a prisoner."

"What I see is what I know."

"You don't have to be here."

"Am I gonna make it alone?"

"I'll try my best to change it."

"You can do better than that."

"I can see that look in your eye."

"Maybe you pushed her too far."

"You made me proud of myself."

"You've got to give me a reason."

"You looked so proud of yourself."

"I could be wrong, but I'd be lying."

"Are you there? Is anybody home?"

"Did you think we'd be till the end?"

"You'd drag us all down if you could."

"No more waiting, what'cha gonna do?"

"I'm a man, they say, who lives the ideal."

"I wanna know just what you're gonna do."

"What I wouldn't give for a second chance."

"Is it really so easy to kick a man that's down."

"I paid them no mind, and I went my own way."

"If we do nothing then we're one and the same."

"I still have dreams about you and I always will."

"Not a few would kill to do the things that I can."

"The only thing I want is the thing that I have not…"

"I won't have you talkin' like you're a friend of mine."

"I can't believe the things that you're goin' through."

"I can't believe the things that he puts you through."

"I was headstrong and selfish and stuck in my ways."

"Why can't you be happy with the things that you've got?"

"I think the feeling of fear was better than no feeling at all."

"You'd think that I would stop, but there's nothin' I can do."

"Is it really so impossible to find some compassion inside?"

"Don't mean a thing to me, there's something I want more."

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.:ooc

Starting a new attempt at rping Vicky and now I truly regret having deleted the playlist I made for her :(

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This is it, I won't cry, starting now I will try To pay back all the karma I owe Start again, somewhere new, Far from cool guys like you So goodbye, 'cause now I I say no

Heathers

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I KNOW THE END // PHOEBE BRIDGERS

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Heaven knows I’m miserable now

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by AbigailLarson

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IG : Metroapero

IG : The Neko Soft Grunge

T-shirt : @velvet.thorns.cl (IG)

Boots : New Rock