porcelain--roses - Tumblr blog

[porcelain--roses]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑶: 𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐿, 𝐻𝐼 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸.

Angelique rolled her eyes, her annoyance manifesting itself in a heavy sigh that escaped her scarlet lips. 

‘Listen, Damian—’ 

 ‘Derek, ma’am,’ her assistant — and intruder — interrupted. 

 ‘𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳,’ the witch gnarled. ‘Do you think it’s excusable to come disturb me about “a group of eccentric hippies passing Collinsport”, as if that weren't an everyday event?' 

She waved her hand in the air and returned to the files to which she had been tending before Derek, the moron, decided to come into her office yapping. ‘Now kindly scat. I’m in the middle of something important.’ 

 ‘Well, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 eccentric hippies seem to have decided to stay a while,' the man insisted. 'It seems they have been around the extremities of town for the last couple of days – a few RVs parked up next to each other.’

Angelique stopped in her tracks. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 in Collinsport was odd news to say the least; people barely cared about visiting the town -- why would anyone be interested in moving there? 

She finally eyed her assistant attentively, resting her chin on her clenched fist and quirking her eyebrows. 

‘𝑶𝒉? Fresh meat, yes?’ 

The young man nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am. No one had ever seen them before.’

'Interesting,' Angelique muttered, nodding distractedly for a couple of seconds. ‘Well then,' she said, grinning, as she started from her seat, maybe I should pay our new neighbours a visit.’

𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, she added in her mind.

‘I'm sure a friendly little welcome won’t hurt.’

________________

The woman sat with her face stuck in a frown, poking at the remnants of last night’s fire. 

“Another disappointment.” 

It seemed that all that Collinsport had to offer her crew was more stories and local haunts— and that goddamn smell of fish. 

Anyone who could’ve testified firsthand to the atrocities committed long ago seemed dead or forgotten. 

How very odd, Rose thought to herself.

But as she sat in the summer’s heat, a shadow appeared, coming between her and the sun. “Back so soon from the grocer, Daddy?”

His Shine was a bit more powerful today, she thought. But of course, everyone had their good days... even her. 

Curious to the occasion, she looked up. “𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍... 𝑯𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.”

________________

"𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺?" 

The blonde gave out a low chuckle. That wasn't exactly the way to which she was used to introduce herself. 

 'I'm afraid 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 hasn't really come from the grocer,' the witch mocked, her eyes fixed on the mysterious figure. 

She came closer. The brown-haired woman was hauntingly beautiful, and the eyes beneath the obnoxious hat, the bluest she had ever seen.

𝑰 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆, she thought. 

 'I'm sure you've mistaken me for someone else.' She offered the woman her hand. 'Angelique Bouchard. 𝘐 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.'

________________

Rose laughed at her mocking banter, nipping at her bottom lip as the woman introduced herself. 

With Bouchard’s hand graciously extended, Rose made a bold decision to 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆— instead, using her own weight. And once standing, she took in the figure standing before her. 

Bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and of course— a pinstriped suit that plunged further than most would dare to look. Of course, Rose did. She admired a power-suit... that is, one accompanied by an equally powerful woman. 

Yes, Bouchard seemed up to par for the task. 

 “So you’re in charge of this little haunt? I do hope you haven’t received any complaints, 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔(?) Bouchard. Me and my 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 were just curious to the stories of this place.” 

Surely the woman emanating Shine like an exploding star could tell her a story or two.

________________

The stranger's refusal to take her hand astounded Angelique, but she could not deny that the irreverence amused her. 

She retreated her palm, eyeing the other woman from head to toe. 4

'That I am,' she responded. 'But I must admit I know nothing of these "stories" you mention.'

She hoped the deceitful tone of her words would pass unheeded. 

'Anyway, I stopped by to bid you welcome, really.' A devilishly beautiful but menacing smile crept upon her lips as the blonde reached out to gently touch the other woman's arm.

Angie knew of her power of persuasion, and she liked to make the most out of it. She loved to see people giving in to her charms; which, of course the blue-eyed stranger would, too. 

𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆? 

'I'm afraid I haven't got your name.' 

“That’s because I never gave it, ” was Rose’s most casual reply, placing her own hand atop Angelique’s. 

With a polite squeeze, she wiped it off, eyes penetrating the blonde as if she were her next meal. “But if you’re so keen to welcome me to your humble town, I suppose you could ask me over dinner.” 

 A chance to spend some time alone with her next victim? Oh, Rose could hardly contain herself. So very rarely did they waltz up to her like this. 

Not since 1852.  

Angelique quirked an eyebrow, eyed the mysterious woman from head to toe, and scoffed amusedly. 

The stranger’s petulance was rather entertaining. 

‘Dinner,’ she muttered. ‘Well, why not? Seven o’clock tonight at my place, shall we?’ She smiled stiffly.

The witch either had too much to lose or nothing at all, but the latter option seemed more like it. After all, Angie couldn’t possibly come across anyone half as powerful and menacing as her, right?

The tilt of Rose’s head seemed wholly amused ( or somewhat flattered ) by the woman’s gesture. More-so by the permanent smile resting upon her newfound companion’s face. 

“Should I assume we are dining alone, Miss Bouchard?” 

That didn’t seem mildly suspicious at all.

But her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sights of the others. True Knot’s most devoted member (besides herself), Crow Daddy, stood in front of the rest. 

Ignoring him, Rose returned to Angelique— grin partly interrupted by a newfound look of worry. 

Had they noticed too?

The blonde took a small step back when she noticed the eerie figures surrounding her and her new acquaintance. They did not look friendly — but Angie was never one to back down.

Especially not from newcomers in 𝑯𝑬𝑹 town.

Tilting her chin up, she shook the feeling of threat off, but the pearly smile was gone from her lips. 

‘Unless you’d like your friends to join us,’ she purred as she glanced back at the brunette. ‘I suppose that’s... 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚?’ she taunted, eyeing the man who led the others.

Rose 𝒅𝒊𝒅 feel a tinge if embarrassment at the nickname she deemed her... 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓— as evident by the widening of her eyes as it escaped those pillowy lips. 

“I’m sure I could escape them for a few hours,” she said, stepping forward to return the distance that had previously been between them. 

“In fact— I would request that you 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕 that much, Miss Bouchard. I might dread any one of them 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 you from me.”

Especially if they had already detected her Shine. 

But a grin had returned to her face, trying to save the moment with a final burst of charm. 

“What do you say? Would you have me all to yourself?”

Angie easily recognised the tinge of flirt in the woman's words, but remained unfazed — even though on the inside she was savouring every bit of it. 

She bobbed her head:— 'I think some 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒚 would do us good, yes.' A side smirk crept on her lips in spite of her wishes.

And speaking of privacy, the witch had no desire to let the meddling, ill-looking people around them know her address, and so she stepped closer to the stranger, leaned into her ear, and whispered slowly, 

'My house is the only mansion in town. You shouldn't have much trouble finding it -- but if you do, just ask around for what was formerly known as the 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔 residence.' 

 And then she simply walked away, not a single glance back. 

________________

The way she walked away was with such confidence... it was hard to dismiss the small swing in her hips. 

Yes, the blonde was certainly proud of herself, wasn’t she? Alas, there was no time to dwell on that, as her posse soon accompanied her. 

 “Who was that?” 

“An acquaintance,” Rose replied in a rather innocent lilt. It was hardly a lie, that was for sure. 

“She seemed full of 𝒊𝒕...” 

 “Hush, Crow.”

Unfortunately, her dark-haired companion didn’t take so kindly to this, taking Rose to the side and grasping her hand as if it was a threat. 

( Even Grandpa Flick seemed to kiss his teeth in disapproval. ) 

“You’re not holding out on us, are you Rosie?” 

“Of 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 not. You think I’d let all of us starve for some city bitch in high heels? I want to know if there are more of them here.” 

He didn’t seem wholly satisfied with her answer, but it didn’t matter. Rose jerked her hand from his, stomping off to her RV. 

“𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆...” 

“I’ll drain that damn Shine from her fighting corpse when the time is right, but not before I get the information that 𝑰 want.” 

The door slammed behind her, rushing to the sink to wash her face. After all, the Irish Rose would need to present her best side tonight. She’d need to be ready for whatever the evening brought. 

And since it seemed like it would be a rather formal dinner, it was eventually decided that she could ditch her overtly Bohemian style for one night.

Searching her small closet, she fingered through every skirt until she reached a deep blue suit with a satin collar. 

“Power suits,” she mumbled to herself. 

“I do wonder if Miss Bouchard is accustomed to being the 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 big fish in her little pond. Such a  𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 little thing... but a damn good waste.”

________________ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ༄

[porcelain--roses]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑵𝑬 : 𝑌𝐸𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐷𝐴𝑌𝑆 𝑀𝐴𝑁𝑇𝑅𝐴

Another day devoid of steam— Rose the (infamous) Hat looked about as rough as one could on a hot summer day in Nevada. 

𝐄at well. 𝐋ive long. 

That was her mantra... a poor one to hang over True Knot, so as to tantalize the very idea of death by putting them all to work.

It was a necessary rule, but there were days even she became sick at the very thought of it and it’s ability to determine their Fate. 

“You’re meditating again,” said Crow Daddy with a kiss to her cheek. 

 She flenched, disrupted from her own thoughts. 

“Someone has to make sure we don’t starve to death this summer. But I was thinking of heading East. The cool air would do us all well...” 

“Especially Uncle Flick.” 

 ... Especially Uncle Flick. 

“They need to feed again, Rosie. Some of them won’t survive this trip.  If we could find a kid with even a little steam—“ 

“I’m fuckin’ tired of these 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏, Daddy.” 

“I know what you mean.” 

“... No, you really don’t.” 

She’d meant True Knot. A painful admission, considering she had birthed nearly everyone in her posse. Much like the children they killed, each one required food on their table and the light of a mother’s love to lead them through hard time. 

But Rose was hardly a mother. 

“You’re letting your stomach talk. Tell the crew to pack their bags, we’ll be on the road by tonight.” 

“And where will we go?” 

“𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.” 

________________

When Angelique realised Barnabas could never love her the way she wanted, she finally put him out of his misery — not necessarily out of mercy or pity, but lest she ever fall into temptation again. Their last encounter nearly costed her her life.

But now she had beheaded him, driven a stake into his heart, torn his limbs off his body, buried every piece of his corpse deep beneath the earth in an empty field, forgotten by everyone in Collinsport but her, near the extremities of the town.

‘Rest well, loverboy,’ she remembered saying, as tears stained her eyes and she patted fresh soil with a shovel one last time. And then life went on, just as it had during the centuries the damned vampire had spent locked in his coffin, and she, thriving above the ground.

But every day a distinct feeling of emptiness tormented her, like a pestilent ghost nudging at her and speaking into her ears: how long would she have to repeat the same lonely, pointless, vicious activities of the last four centuries before something, someone came rescue her?

Angelbay no longer sufficed, and with the Collinses dead, there was no one else for her to spite. Angie needed a new thrill — a new obsession, even. And that evening, when she drove home after another tedious day, she had the strange sensation it was an ominous breeze of change that was causing her blonde locks to dance in the air.

________________

The ride was long— particularly unpleasant as backroads were never well maintained. 

Bloody cheapskates. 

But as they passed through the country— Rose was determined to seek out a new candidate. Yes, even a little steam was better than none. And so, she allowed herself to meditate at every gas station, ‘til dawn had breached the sky. 

But it was at the most unlikely trucker’s stop that Rose sat atop her RV in Amarillo Texas. 

“... What is that goddamn smell?” 

“That’s 𝑨ngel 𝑩ay fish, ma’am! Y’know Collinsport has the biggest selection this time of year— and the cheapest. Of course, that’s Maine for you...” 

The rest of what he said didn’t matter. Rose had heard of this place before, though mostly through urban legend. 

“Collinsport, eh?” 

A city of mythical creatures— or so she’d once been told. Rose figured the tales were likely those of “gifted” individuals. 

She weighed her options. 

The were starving... and Rose figured the worse that could happen is that they would continue to starve. So as Grandpa Flick finished topping the gas off, Rose leant over and poked her head into the front seat. 

“What about it, Crow Daddy? Are you craving some seafood?” 

 A confused look would meet her devilish grin, the woman hopping off the RV in one majestic jump. 

“I just know we’ll find some Shine on the Eastern seaboard... I can 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 it.” 

And with that last ounce of self-reassurance— they headed toward their new destination. 

Who could guess how the townspeople would take to the numerous RVs driving through their simple town. It wasn’t as if it were the hottest destination on the map. But then again, it was the seventies... and potheads run rampant, visiting new cities. 

Maybe they might just blend in. 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆.

________________ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ༄