rn-zane

[rn-zane]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Watcher's Way PARTIES: Zane ( @rn-zane ) & Eleanor SUMMARY: Zane checks on Eleanor after she's nearly run over by a jogger and they strike up easy conversation to get to know one another. WARNINGS: None!

Even without the sun making their colors more vibrant, Zane definitely appreciated the changing leaves as he jogged underneath the looming trees. The woods were fine enough to run in but he genuinely wasn’t feeling like getting his run interrupted by something insane this afternoon. Besides, not being the only one jogging brought on a sense of comfort, a warm solidarity from every stranger that gave a small nod or a wave as they passed. 

Not everyone seemed to be part of that same mentality however, the sudden appearance of a runner slipping past Zane startling him out of the gentle mood. It had been a close call with the guy almost barrelling him down and the vampire couldn’t help but ‘tsk’ at the lack of care about his surroundings. That turned to genuine annoyance when the next person to meet the runner had less luck than Zane, shoulders bumping and what looked like a full cup of coffee spilling over the pavement. 

He reached her quickly, glaring at the back of the runner retreating before turning his attention to the girl mourning her coffee. “Hey, you alright? You didn’t burn your hand or anything?” Zane asked, crouching down to pick up the cup. Less than a sip remained in the container and he handed it over with an empathetic look. 

Eleanor’s unplanned vacation to her sister’s home in Canada had done a lot for her perspective on getting out of her apartment. She’d learned that getting out didn’t mean that she had to meet up with someone or put herself into stressful social situations, a trip to the bookstore or just a stroll around town was enough. Even more, it felt good to be out seeing more of Wicked’s Rest, coming across familiar faces, and feeling like she was finally part of the small community. This would be her home for the foreseeable future, it only made sense to her to try and become acclimated.

As was normal for her Eleanor picked up a cup of coffee and decided to just wander until it was too late to be outside. She’d made a lot of progress on the outline for her novel, had responded to all of the emails she’d been putting off, and had gotten tired of scrolling on her phone - it seemed like as great a time as ever to get outside and find something to keep herself busy. It was nice out and everyone seemed to be in a good mood - that is, until she was nearly knocked off of her feet by a jogger. She jumped back in response but was relieved to find that her coffee wasn’t nearly as hot as it had been when she’d first ordered it. She sighed in disappointment before she realized that someone had spoken to her.

“Oh, yes! Yeah, I’m okay. That actually happens a lot where I’m from, I’ve learned to not take it personally.” Eleanor wiped her hand against her skirt, glad that the dark material would hide any stains. “Luckily I’m a slow drinker so it had lots of time to cool down while I was walking. But I really do appreciate you checking.” She took the cup back with a grateful smile that started to fade when she tried to figure out the stranger’s emotional state and came up empty handed. “Um…” She tried to find the right words, “Really, I appreciate it.”

Tension melted from his shoulders once it was confirmed that she was unharmed even as eyebrows furrowed at her comment. “Big city?” Zane asked, realizing at the question that he wasn’t sure he would even function in an environment where people just shamelessly crashed into one another, not caring. It honestly sounded almost worse than living somewhere full of people that wanted him dead and new horrors sprouting up every month. 

“It’s nothing - the guy almost ran me down, too.” As the almost empty cup got passed back, her smile seemed to falter and his own grew a little worried. Was he coming on too strong? Maybe she didn’t like strangers or thought he was about to be a sleaze and ask for her number. “Honestly, it’s nothing,” he repeated, shifting back a step in case he was invading her personal space, hands sliding awkwardly into his pockets. “Not sure when people stopped caring but…” Zane shrugged, fingers messing with the headphones in his pockets. 

“Anyway, uh… Oh! There’s actually a small trailer with some decent coffee just a little ways down there if you need a refill.” One hand slipped from his pockets to point further into the park, giving her a solid out from the conversation. 

Eleanor nodded with a smile. “New York to be exact. I’ve lived all over New York state, but I was in the city for all of my college years. You wouldn’t believe how many people have nearly sent me face first into the pavement without so much as a backwards glance. You get used to it after a while - or at least, you get used to not being offended.” Her mind momentarily went back to when she was younger and visited the city - she and her foster siblings had been grilled on the correct etiquette, one of the biggest rules being to never call someone out if they ran into you. It could be a dangerous place but it had been home to her and a part of herself would always miss the hustle and bustle of it all.

All that aside, Eleanor knew that something was off about the stranger although she couldn’t just come out and ask why she was unable to get a read on him. She’d become a lot more proficient in identifying those who walked among the living thanks to some of her closest friends being part of the undead community, but she still struggled with an acceptable way of letting the other party know that she knew their secret. Or perhaps it was better that they didn’t know that she knew. She’d been warned plenty of times that not all undead were friendly.

She immediately felt bad when she saw that she had made her acquaintance uncomfortable and shook her head to rid herself of her thoughts. “It’s almost like everyone forgot how to be decent human beings, right? But now I sound like an old grandma cursing youngsters, don’t I?” She laughed and extended her hand for a shake - maybe she could focus her ability and get a read through physical touch. A long shot, but still worth it. “I”m Eleanor, thank you again for checking on me.”

Her eyes went in the direction that he had pointed. “You know what, I think I’ll head that way. This cup was getting a little too cold for my liking anyhow. Would you care to join me? I don’t mind getting you something as well.” The moment the words had left her mouth she wasn’t sure what to think. It wasn’t like her to invite a stranger to hang out - maybe that was just something new she would start doing.

College in a big city. Zane wondered if he’d turned out different in a place like that, whether it would have hardened him or simply broken him. Maybe at least he’d have gotten tired enough of apologizing to everyone bumping into him all the time that it would have suffocated the current pathological need for ‘sorries’ at every occasion. “That sounds insane. No wonder movies and shows don’t tend to highlight that part, no one would ever want to move there.�� An exaggeration, people probably didn’t move anywhere for the manners. 

Huffing out a laugh as she called herself out, well aware that he himself probably sounded like an old grump from time to time, too, Zane accepted the handshake with a renewed feeling of ease. So he hadn’t been putting her off, probably just overanalyzing a simple expression. “Zane, and it’s really no problem. Rather check on you now than have you show up later in the ER,” he joked, even if it was laced with the truth. There was no way for him to stop noticing potential injuries or catastrophes - it was well and fully hardwired at this point. 

“Oh. Yeah, okay. I could go for a cup.” He’d already had way too much caffeine today but pros of no circulation - no heart palpitations. “And you don’t have to pay or anything. All I did was hand you back a practically empty cup,” Zane argued as they headed towards the cart, smell of coffee getting stronger as they approached.

Eleanor completely understood what he meant. “The movies and shows are very good at romanticizing everything. You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve watched something based in New York and thought ‘nobody says that’, ‘where the hell is that’ or ‘we don’t sound like that’!” Which, of course, wasn’t entirely true as her accent seemed to slip out just in time to prove that sometimes she did sound like that. “But I do have to say that sometimes they get things right, mostly Christmas time. Christmas in the city is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, if autumn wasn’t already my favorite season I’d say winter just because of the decorations and music blasting from everywhere. And believe it or not, the people are just a tad bit nicer closer to the holidays. One time a lady even apologized for bumping into me while I was out buying presents for my family.”

The handshake offered nothing in the way of getting a read. So he truly did not have any emotions, at least none that Eleanor could pick up on. She tried to play it as cool as she possibly could - she wasn’t frightened, she was curious and excited. But again, letting someone know that she knew their secret was always a dangerous game and she needed to tread lightly. Zane seemed like a nice enough person but they’d only just met. “I like your name. I’m assuming you’re a doctor or nurse? That’s incredibly brave, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything like that. I’m too squeamish and I’m not up for the long hours of work.”

She was delighted when he accepted her invitation although she would have liked to challenge him when the subject of paying came up. He was a nice person to speak with and didn’t seem to mind that she was a little awkward. “How did you know that I might put up a fight about that?” Eleanor teased, her guard almost completely done at that point. “So, are you just out exercising? I should probably be doing that myself but I need to get back to work before too long, my deadline is coming up quickly. I’m a writer.”

Maybe he would have liked Christmas in a big city like that. Granted, most things surrounding the holiday were still weird for Zane and the music had been hard to get into when you didn’t grow up with it assaulting your ears for two months straight. The notion of all the lights though, of people being kinder - he liked that part. Maybe one day he’d go find out for himself. “I’ll have to check it out someday. Even though autumn is definitely my favorite, too. Having a run through here when the leaves are changing is amazing.”

Eleanor seemed to get less wary the more they talked, which was good, even if she still looked rather deep in thought. Maybe she was still trying to get a read on him, a fair amount of distrust was sadly a good survival mechanism in this town. Probably in New York, too. “Just a nurse. I mean, not just, nurses are valuable and all that, my coworkers are amazing. Not a doctor, though,” Zane explained, really only backtracking because it had sounded offensive to the other nurses. “It’s good that people are different, though. Can’t really have everyone going into healthcare.” The long hours of work had definitely gotten easier once sleeping was no longer a factor. Maybe a hospital full of undead was the future.

Zane let out a soft chuckle, shrugging. “It’s what I would have done,” he answered honestly, smiling and greeting the worker of the coffee cart as they approached. True to his word, he paid for his order as he made it, resisting the urge to offer to pay for her drink as well. That would just be hypocritical of him. “Yeah, I get a bit cooped up sometimes, the runs help. But you’re a writer? That’s so cool. I haven’t read much if I’m being honest, trying to fix that, so I probably haven’t read your stuff. Sorry.”

Eleanor grinned. “I moved here last August so it was just in time to witness autumn here in all its glory. It was absolutely beautiful, I got so much writing done outside because I couldn’t keep myself inside. In a turn of events I actually like being surrounded by trees. My mother didn’t think that I would fare well outside of the city but it’s proven to be one of the very few things she’s ever been wrong about. Being a nurse is incredible! You should absolutely give yourself some more credit, not everyone can do what you do and I’m one of them. I’ve always stood by the opinion that it takes a very special person to be either a schoolteacher or a healthcare worker.”

She was distracted for a moment as she ordered another cup of coffee and paid. As Eleanor waited for it to be fixed her mind wandered as she tried to think of ways to close that one chapter that she was stuck on. She had started to get her notebook out when she remembered that she was in the middle of a conversation and, blushing, she turned back to Zane with a smile. “No need to be sorry, it’s not like they’re at the top of everyone’s reading list, but I have to say that if you’re into romance then definitely give them a try. And if that’s not your cup of tea then in a few months the one I’m working on now will be on the shelves. It’s nothing that will give you nightmares but I think it’s enough to keep you on your toes.” She gratefully grabbed her coffee and took a sip. “Honestly, I could probably do some more running like you do, it’s not good to be inside my dark apartment staring at my computer all day. My back has started to naturally curve whenever I’m sitting and that’s not good.” She stated, only half-joking. “Did you graduate from here as well?” She was fascinated by the thought of growing up in one place for one’s entire life. She wished she could have experienced such a thing.

Eleanor was nice, kind. That was both a good thing and a scary thing, knowing the inevitability of these traits getting ruined or abused the longer someone stayed in town. If she was human, which all odds pointed to but there was never a way to be completely certain, then Zane worried. Maybe that wasn’t fair, maybe the writer could take perfect care of herself in the face of the atrocities but watching her talk animatedly about her mother and professions that impressed her caused him doubts. “I will try to give myself more credit,” he promised with a chuckle, hoping that Eleanor wouldn’t have to witness how impressive healthcare workers were up close. 

Distracted by his own, slightly morose, thoughts, Zane didn’t take much notice of his companion zoning out. “Oh, a thriller? Is it like a murder mystery or a detective novel?” He thought of the only actual (well, informally) detective he knew and imagined how many novels could be written based on those shenanigans. If not for the absolute certainty that Emilio would hate it, Zane probably would have offered to introduce him to Eleanor for inspiration. Laughing as she exposed herself and the shrimpy posture, Zane found himself leading the pair over to one of the benches - better to make sure she wouldn’t get trampled down by another rude runner. “You really shouldn’t tell a nurse about your unhealthy habits. We judge,” he joked back, or mostly joked. It was less about judging and more about a pretty pathological need to interfere and help. 

“Yeah, I finished my nursing degree here. Only got to town around… wow, think it’s been almost five years now. Man…” 

Eleanor perked up again when she was presented with another opportunity to speak about her book. “It’s not really a murder mystery, there’s a monster going around town and a group of newcomers find themselves easy targets for it since they aren’t used to the area and how it resurfaces every thirteen years so they’re not near as prepared as the locals. You wouldn’t believe the amount of research I’ve had to do just into the background of my fictional monster - I wanted to make sure that the lore made sense and wouldn’t leave any of my readers finding plot holes and things of that nature. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read it front to back so I’ve gone a little ‘blind’ to any mistakes which is why I have beta readers. They’re the best whenever it comes to pointing that kind of stuff out.” She gratefully sank down onto the bench and laughed along with Zane. “Very good point, I promise not to bring up any of my other bad habits.” There were quite a few of those although most stemmed from her anxious personality. It was easier to reach for a cigarette or unhealthy snack than it was to deal with an anxiety attack.

“Time here moves differently, doesn't it? For example, sometimes it flies and I find myself unable to believe that it’s been nearly a year for me here, but then sometimes it seems to almost stop altogether and I wonder how a week felt like three months. So much has happened in the little bit of time that I’ve been here and yet it seems like nothing at all.” Eleanor brought her cup to her lips again and stared off into the distance as she thought over her own words. It had never occurred to her how much the concept of time in Wicked’s Rest confused her. She was brought out of her thoughts when someone walked by and her stare was broken; looking back to Zane she smiled apologetically. “What made you want to move here? I heard some… charming stories, I suppose. At least, I’d never truly lived in a smaller town before so I thought that now was the perfect time.” In all honesty she had been drawn to the town due to Lily’s supposed closeness and the need to completely start over, nothing else.

As she dove into the explanation for her book, Zane smiled and nodded along, her excitement for the subject infectious. Even if he wasn’t exactly sure what beta readers were or how they might prevent plot holes, it was endearing to watch her passionately ramble on. “Well, trust me when I say I won’t be looking for mistakes when I attempt to get through your book. Again, nothing to do with your book, more me being a slow as heck reader.” He just hoped the monster wouldn’t hit too close to home, be too similar to anything that actually crept around these streets. As much as he liked the idea of supporting Eleanor, feeling like the world was also a mess during ‘turn off your brain and focus on something else’ time wasn’t too enticing. 

Humming in agreement as Eleanor described the passing of time, Zane found himself thinking about just how much had passed in only the last year. That one had definitely flown by, even if the ones before had been in quite a hurry, too. He didn’t exactly expect time to slow down anytime soon, seeing as he had… well, eternity. “The town definitely keeps you busy,” he mused, smiling when Eleanor seemed to snap back out of her own thoughts. “Charming stories?” Zane parroted back - he wasn’t exactly sure what kind of rep this town had in a big place like New York but… charming? “I didn’t exactly choose it, honestly. Just kind of ended up here and didn’t have a reason to go anywhere else so… I stayed. Nothing more interesting than that. Maybe moving would have been the right call but…” Zane shrugged, flashing another smile to avoid dampening the mood. “At least you came to the right place for some monster story ambiance, right?”

Eleanor was excited to hear that she may have potentially gained another reader and was once again overcome with a sense of pride at her skills at promoting her book before it was even published. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes you so long as you get through it. Some people say that I read too fast, that there’s no way that I can comprehend what I’ve read, but I promise that I can. But whenever I’m writing it feels like I’m going in slow motion for some reason - my brain has all of these ideas and I want to get them all down on paper but I can only type and write so fast.”

She wondered what Zane felt as he repeated her words back to her in a disbelieving tone. Perhaps her use of the word charming had been a bit of a stretch, but she had grown to enjoy the town and thought that being able to recognize the faces of her neighbors was neat, definitely not something she’d been accustomed to back in the city. Eleanor nodded with a laugh. If only he knew. Or did he know? He must have known something. “The town itself is what inspired me. I’m sure I’ll go back to my romances because they own my heart, but for now I was inspired to write something different and I think that it’s turned out magnificent. Do you believe in the supernatural?” It was a loaded question and she wished she could have brought out her notebook in order to document whatever his answer would be.

Smiling, Zane nodded, fully prepared to make an honest attempt to read her book. Maybe he’d do a better job reading if every time, he’d meet the author first, really like them and want them to be happy that people were reading their book. “The only thing I type are notes at work - I can do those pretty fast, though.” His coffee was running out, the placebo effect of the caffeine starting to make him antsy to get back to his run. 

The question caught him off guard but it wasn’t that unexpected - his doubt at her statement hinted towards as much. Or did it? Maybe Zane had just been expressing his distaste for the… architecture or… crime rates or something that made normal towns less charming. He didn’t know Eleanor well enough to know where she stood when it came to believing - if she’d gotten the proof needed to truly know yet. “I think there’s a lot in town that’s hard to explain,” Zane answered, providing a vague answer for now. It would be a shame if she only indulged in the supernatural as a fantasy and thought him beyond odd for actually believing. 

“That’s a very useful talent to have, don’t count yourself out.” Eleanor responded with a smile of her own. She liked Zane and appreciated his company - whether or not he actually read her book didn’t really matter that much to her, she was just happy to have met him although her curiosity still buzzed in the back of her mind. She mentally reached out again to see if she could pick up something, anything, but once again came up empty-handed. Oh well, that would just have to suffice for the time being. Eleanor nodded along with his vague answer because she wasn’t disappointed, she’d expected as much. Typically people who did believe in things like the supernatural didn’t make a habit of going around talking about it with people they’d just met, they would have been considered out of their mind. Finishing the last of her coffee she got to her feet and smiled at him again. Should she thank him? A part of her said no but a bigger part said that she would be in no danger if she did, he didn’t seem like the kind of person to want to do her any harm. “Thank you for sitting with me and answering my silly questions.” She laughed and hoped he took it as a sign that she didn’t think much of what she’d asked about supernatural beings. “Have a great rest of your run, hopefully we’ll see one another again soon.” She slowly walked away from the bench, her mind already wandering as she left but she took better care to watch out for her surroundings so that no one else could accidentally run into her.

[rn-zane]

Several pots of plant-able flowers are left on Zane’s porch with a note:

Zane,

I’m really sorry about your dirt. I feel bad for messing it up. I thought this could make it up to you! You can plant these in the dirt, and I promise I won’t […] eat it anymore. Sorry again. Thanks for helping me get home!

- Felix

[user is really bad at planting things but he will definitely try just for Felix in the hopes it will make them feel a little bit better. user does not have a lot of hope it will make them feel better, though.] 

[rn-zane]

TIMING: current SETTING: the emergency room PARTIES: @muertarte + @rn-zane SUMMARY: metzli drops someone off at the hospital, zane spots them and really wants to help the vampire, too.

The streets of Wicked’s Rest were always a danger to walk in, but under the shroud of night, a completely separate kind of darkness fell into bloom. Red eyes, gnawing teeth, and the like, all seeking out a proper meal to calm the insatiable hunger. Humans were prey, unknowingly so, and while most would rather keep it that way, Metzli had vowed to end that war inside themself. 

The price was small, but worth it, even if others thought them less for it. Attacked them. But maybe that was because they had gotten in the way of someone else’s war. That price was small too. A few gashes and bites here and there. Metzli paid them no mind, finding that the dust now covering their skin was far more painful as they marched into the emergency room, victim in tow over their shoulder.

“They are hurt.” Metzli droned, handing the would-be blood packet to the stunned nurse running the desk. You look hurt, too, she said. Let me— but before she could reach them, Metzli took a large step back and shook their head. They caught a familiar face in their periphery, growing stiff. Zane. It was time to go.“Bye,” Metzli said, turning and walking away to head home.

The drop ins were always trouble. It helped immeasurably to have at least some shred of information about what was coming their way when the ambulances radioed in, let the staff know what to prepare for, who to drag from the less sick patients. Sadly, the fact of it being trouble for the staff did little to stop it, the injured and even half-dead somehow finding their way through the front doors with no warning. 

Zane noticed the commotion by way of a stretcher being hastily barrelled down the hall, immediately catching his attention. Excusing himself to the patient expectantly holding out their arm for a blood pressure reading, he dropped the cuff and hurried to the front desk. A couple of the other nurses had already rounded on the new patient along with a doctor, leaving Zane to survey the rest of the scene and catch the gaze of someone who had clearly not wanted to be seen. 

Without a second thought, he jogged over to them, already taking note of the marks he recognized with eerie ease littering their skin. “Let me check you out? Please? Just a couple of minutes, no other staff.” Keeping pace with them, resisting the urge to make any sort of threatening gesture like grab or block Metzli’s way, Zane hoped that his pleading expression would have any effect. 

—-

“Leave me alone.” Metzli shot back, with no room to argue back. Though, they were positive that the vampire they hadn’t seen since the commotion that left multiple of their friends hurt would try anyway. He made mistakes, too stubborn to leave things be. That was what Metzli saw anyway. They judged harshly, too stubborn in their own way. 

So when he continued to follow along with each large stride in their gate, Metzli growled and whipped around on their heel. Facing him, they warned him with a vicious red pooling in their eyes. “I said…” His eyes were too soft, and the next warning died in their throat. The kindness in his eyes was almost palpable, all too revealing. He did want to help, and he did feel genuine concern. Eyes never lied. 

They took a deep breath, smelling chemicals and that all too enticing scent of life lingering just beneath. But that could have been themself too. How did he do it, they wondered? Was saving lives what he did? How many people had he gotten killed? Was it right of Metzli to wonder that when they’d only seen the one mistake? Granted, it cost many lives. They weren’t sure what to think, and they supposed it was better not to. 

“Fine.”

The muscles of his jaw stiffened at the harsh command, their words icy and sharp in a way that let them burrow down deep. To only have met someone once and for that to be the setting… At the very least with Wynne, he’d had the flimsiest of ground to stand on - a few discussions, Ariadne vouching for him. Metzli had only seen the carnage, had been the carnage. Even though Zane hadn’t directly dragged them into it, their cold front seemed deserved. Didn’t persuade him from playing catch up, though, but he stopped instantly when Metzli did. 

Their eyes burned too but it was different from last time. It was the same shade of red but there was emotion behind them other than the rage he’d previously seen, had almost been subject to helping to drag Metzli away from the flames. Zane swallowed thickly, ready to back off before he started doing harm but then they stopped. Pondered. He stayed quiet, stayed still even though he itched to look around and check if anyone was close enough to take note of Metzli’s eyes. And then they gave in. 

Zane took a useless breath of his own, the smallest of smiles emerging. “Thank you,” he breathed, gesturing for Metzli to follow before they changed their mind. The closest area, privacy provided in the form of drapes, was thankfully empty and Zane quickly shut the two vampires from sight. He hadn’t missed the curious looks coming from the front desk but he’d make up some story later. “You fought someone off?” he asked quietly, thankful for the familiar work of pulling out saline and gauze. From experience, he didn’t think vampires really got skin infections but Metzli probably didn’t want those wounds closing up around the dust he could only guess had been someone. He moved slowly, predictably, every motion obvious in its intent and providing ample opportunity for the other vampire to stop him if they so wished. Starting on the arm, he set to work cleaning out the first cut. 

They walked back together quietly, only releasing an unexpected groan once the thrumming lights struck their eyes painfully. The air was sterile and the sheets crinkled with a stiffness that had no possibility of providing warmth, let alone comfort. It was a place that Metzli had never found themself in for countless reasons. Money, ignorance, availability, their death. Couldn’t really take vitals on someone whose heart made no beat and whose lungs only functioned through will. 

Besides, whatever a doctor could do for Metzli, they could just do themself. And they had on numerous occasions, rarely allowing anyone to provide the care they already knew how to perform. Leila was one of the chosen few, Honey being the first, and now a young vampire had somehow convinced them to become his patient. Metzli couldn’t help but wonder if he’d actually be able to handle the years and terrors that marred their body. There was only one way to find out, and only a mere moment to wait once they were behind a curtain. 

“Yes, another one of…us.” They lifted their shirt as high as they could to reveal two other deep and jagged wounds. As best they could, they adjusted their binder, revealing as much torn skin as they could until they realized it wasn’t enough. Removing the shirt completely, Metzli stiffened their posture as Zane touched their arm to begin his work on the smaller wounds. They watched him carefully, noting the way he moved in kind. As if he knew how easily Metzli would sprint out of the hospital if the wrong move was made. It was strange, as kind as it was.

“Why do you help me?

It was still so clear that they didn’t want to be here, Metzli radiating that fact but still complying with Zane’s selfish need to patch them up. All odds pointed to them being fine even if he let them walk out of here but aside from just wanting to do something for the vampire that had had his and Emilio’s back way back when, it would make for nicer scars. Metzli already had plenty and most likely couldn’t care less - maybe he’d get to know their reasoning for sticking around at some point. “Yeah, I figured, judging from the person you came in with.”

His focus shifted when Metzli willingly revealed their torso, showing where they had (hopefully) taken the brunt of the damage. Could have gone worse, all things considered - the fact that Metzli had gotten the would-be victim of the other vampire away semi-safely alluded to the fact that ‘the other guy’ was much worse off. There was no objection to his work, only a shift in their posture that Zane assumed had nothing to do with any sort of physical pain. The question caught him off guard, hands stilling for a moment before they continued the almost soothing work of cleaning, bandaging and stitching where necessary. 

“Because helping’s my job. Because you helped me, which I know was technically you helping Emilio but… still counts. Because you helped that person you brought in.” Zane’s gaze flickered to their face momentarily before returning to the current tear he was closing up. “Why did you help that human?” he countered after a moment of silence. 

—

“How many years?” They asked bluntly, eyes glued to every subtle twitch Zane made. “I mean, like this.” A whisper, “Vampire.” It seemed impossible for a vampire to wedge themself into a life filled with medical procedures that exposed them to blood. Every patient was a meal. Or at least, a possible one. 

What did he do when his eyes shifted and his fangs extended? Did people even notice? And if they did, was he still a monster when his hands provided healing? Metzli wondered and wondered, watching said hands intensely. They barely managed to register he was speaking to them, and for a few moments, they simply blinked. Why did they help that human? Their morals had hardly changed, blood was still food, but now everything felt so much…more. Metzli found themself experiencing unexpected emotions to situations they’d gone through countless times since Chuy’s death. 

Needless to say, their state was permanent, but they weren’t sure if it was a positive one or not. They just knew one thing. “Want to be…good monster.” Metzli shrugged slightly, mindful to not impede any of Zane’s progress. “Seeing them scream for help make…chest tight. Did not know what I was doing until there was dust on my hands. This does not have sense.”

Sometimes patients wanted to keep a close eye on his movements, see how exactly he was working, where and why. Usually that was due to curiosity, in rare cases distrust. Zane wasn’t sure he’d ever felt a gaze as scrutinous as this, though. The questions, blunt as they were, proved a decent distraction from Metzli’s stare. “About a year and a half,” he answered, meeting their gaze for the briefest of moments before he was moving on to the next gash. On a human, this probably would have needed a surgical suite, antibiotics, bed rest. For Metzli, Zane’s very basic stitching skills would do. 

Their answer was… well, it tugged violently at Zane’s heart. A good monster. There had to be such a thing, right? Was that what Emilio saw him and others like him as? Maybe it depended on the definition of a monster - if it was only defined by its actions, then calling it good would be a paradox. But if the lack of a heartbeat, the unnaturally colored eyes and sharp fangs were what constituted a monster, surely the actions could prove it to be good. Neutral, at the very least, provided that you couldn’t erase the bad stuff but simply reached a sort of plateau at some point. “Why can’t that make sense? You saw someone in danger, you wanted to help them. That doesn’t have to contradict what you… what we need to survive. If you choose for those two things to coexist, I think they can.”

“Mhmm.” They let the silence fill the room for a while, watching how the way Zane’s hands moved looked a little monotonous. A second nature that he had adapted well to. Well enough to let his hands get stained with red and keep his mouth clamped shut. Perhaps he was a good monster too, in his own right. Metzli believed so, even if he had a propensity to be an idiot. Though that wasn’t really fair for them to assume off of one instance. 

He followed his instincts and obeyed the commands of another much more powerful than him. In his position, Metzli knew they would’ve done the same. Because they already had. That was the reason they were so upset by what he did, wasn’t it? Anger at themself simmered into a boil, seeping over and burning Zane in the process. The cycle had to end at some point, and with both Eloy and Chuy gone, Metzli wasn’t sure how it had still persisted all that time. Months had passed, and yet, their pain continued to echo impressively loud. Maybe it always would. 

“I am this for one-hundred-thirty years.” Metzli finally said, feeling the stitches close little by little. “Not a lot make sense. Always think there is good and evil. That is it. That is all.” They shook their head with a grimace, “But this is not true, and many times they are…” Metzli wasn’t sure how to describe it, but they did their best by raising their only hand and presented Zane with their index and middle finger crossed. “Everything changes all the time. Good becomes bad.” Tears welled in their eyes, thoughts drifting to Cass. “And bad becomes good.” What they sought to be. “We just have choices to pick. I think you pick okay sometimes.”

The quiet dragged on, interrupted only by distant chatter and beeping from machines that Zane no longer registered as long as it was the ‘everything is fine’ sort of beeping. He wondered if he should have reached out sooner, asked Emilio to make contact with Metzli. Their last and only interaction had been less than ideal, with Zane holding the trashing vampire back so they wouldn’t hurt someone they weren’t supposed to. Hurt the people he had already hurt. Zane wondered which part of what had happened was the cause for the disdain in Metzli’s eyes before they had softened and allowed him to treat their wounds. The clan itself, that he had scarred Wynne, that Metzli had been forced to kill their own kind, that Zane had been the one to physically overpower them? 

Metzli spoke again, thankfully breaking the silence and the whirlwind of questions. “Wow,” he breathed, thinking that it was no wonder they looked so worn out behind the dark eyes. All those years. Zane wondered if he would want to stick around that long. His gaze moved to Metzli’s fingers and he couldn’t help the soft smile at their simple but somehow perfect explanation. His smile softened even further at what he perceived to be the most genuine of compliments. It felt similar to an Emilio compliment, where you couldn’t just take the words at their face value. “Thanks. I definitely try to. But it’s like you said, when the two are so intertwined, sometimes the lines get a bit blurry. Make it hard to see clearly what’s good.” Like killing one of your kind to save an innocent human. Well, presumed innocent. 

“It seems like you’re picking okay too, now.” A pause. “I think it’s like with Emilio. Knowing us, letting us live. That probably lands somewhere between the good and bad, I think.”

“Hm.” A small smile ticked up the corner of their lips and they offered a single nod as they looked at their wounds. Thankfully, it looked like Zane had finally finished his work, and Metzli was grateful. Both for his help and that their time together had come to a close. Gratitude didn’t mean they were crazy enough to have more small talk. Metzli was a lot of things, but they weren’t a masochist.

“Thank you for your help.” They bowed their head and grabbed their shirt, putting it back on as they stood. A groan escaped before they could suppress it, and they rolled their eyes at themself in annoyance. Ever since Chuy died, Metzli’s ability to be unfazed by injuries had waned significantly, but they at least still had the ability to heal quickly. So long as they ate, at least.

It looked like a hunt was in order.

Metzli shoved the curtain aside and regarded Zane one last time before they made their way out of the hospital. “Have a good night, Zane. You are not stupid like I think.”

A lot of things could feel rewarding in his line of work - actual life saving measures, helping ease someone’s pain or worry, just being a shoulder to lean on. Metzli’s barely there smile was one of those things, making his chest light up with that lovely but hard to name feeling. They probably didn’t care all that much about the stitches, seeming to simply appreciate the handiwork as adequate from the nod, but perhaps rather smiling at the change in their relationship. From almost dying to help him out and going feral to… acquaintances? Zane hoped it was something like that, Metzli was far from easy to read. 

“It was nothing. And you’re always welcome to contact me if you get all…” Zane waved his hand, “banged up again. Even when I’m not at work, I have stuff at home to help.” He had no way of telling if Metzli would actually take him up on the offer but it felt nice to have extended it, either way. He hoped they would. Trying and probably failing to hide the slight worry on his face as Metzli groaned, Zane knew he needed to let them go. No use pushing his luck. The curtain opened and to his surprise, Metzli paused before their departure. Huffing out a laugh at their… well, compliment? - Zane shook his head softly and went to work cleaning up the supplies used. Feeling unburdened now by a weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying around. 

[rn-zane]

TIMING: current SETTING: a restaurant near the hospital PARTIES: @recoveringdreamer + @rn-zane SUMMARY: felix steps in to deter a bird attack, realizing a bit late that it's zane they're helping. the pair end up accidentally hijacking a dinner reservation.

“Have you ever seen Ratatouille?” They asked, sliding back into their seat. “Do you think worms can do that?”

It was hard sometimes, knowing what to do after ‘work.’ A few months ago, it was simpler. Felix would walk home, would curl up on the couch and spend the remainder of their evening trying to forget the things they’d done in the ring that night. But there was no separation anymore, no distance between the Pit and them. They went to sleep within its walls and woke up within its walls and repeated the process anew. 

They’d taken to ducking out for strolls to try to curb the feeling, as if a few trips around the block might somehow resolve their issues. The walks were still done under the carefully ticking clock of the loosely defined ‘rules’ Leo had set up for them, but they offered some illusion of freedom, and Felix liked that.

Tonight’s walk brought him to Deersprings. They liked the suburban feel of the neighborhood, hoped to visit Mistwood Park for the scenery. It’d be nice, they thought, to be out in nature for a little while. They ducked their head as they walked by the hospital, not a fan of the feeling that came with the building. There was nothing supernatural about it, they knew; it was more a good old fashioned discomfort. If they’d been paying more attention, they might have seen a familiar face walking out the front.

They also might have seen the giant bird swooping down to meet said familiar face.

As it was, though, Felix heard more than saw the beginnings of the ordeal. And, without thinking and without looking, they sprinted over to help.

—

The days in the ER differed wildly and it was usually safest to expect the worst and pray for nothing. On the slow days, things were fine if a bit mind numbing, repetitive work of triaging barely sick patients only for them to get annoyed when you told them they were fine. The fast days could go either way, depending on how understaffed they were, how many people screamed at you or how many they couldn’t save. Today had been among the better ones, where everyone seemed to work as a unit, the really sick got properly treated and redirected and Zane could feel useful. It was a nice change of pace with the utter failure of trying to help Felix still rearing its head a couple times a day. 

Stepping out into the brisk spring air was nice and Zane actually let himself properly enjoy it for once, for a moment not thinking about what he could have done better during the shift, or in general. Of course he should have known better than to think that a nice day would end on a nice note. Even if he had listened to the nagging voice of pessimism, it probably wouldn’t have come up with ‘giant bird attack’ though. 

The talons were sharp, tearing straight through the fabric of his jacket and latching into the skin of his arm, which he’d just barely raised in defense as the thing swooped in. Because it was a thing with its toothed beak and murderous eyes. In a panic, Zane shook his arm and the talons only dug deeper, pain radiating up his arm as the creature shrieked. And then the eerie beak chomped in the direction of his face, foiled only by more violent swinging of his arm. It released its grip then, providing only momentary relief - it had taken flight once more, circling overhead for another opening. 

—

The bird was attacking. Except — it definitely wasn’t a normal bird. It was huge, with unnatural looking claws and a strange beak. But there was little time to worry about what it looked like while it was attacking some random — Zane? 

For the first time, Felix faltered their step, anxiety rising at the realization that Zane was the person being targeted by this… bird thing. They hadn’t seen him in a while, though they’d at least spoken since the incident with Leo. Still, Felix wasn’t sure how to feel about him. They were still frustrated that Zane and Wyatt had gone behind their back to talk to Leo despite their pleas to the contrary, still upset that their wishes had been denied and that their life was worse because of it. It couldn’t matter right now, of course; right now, there was a bird and it was swooping back down for another shot. Right now, Felix had bigger things to worry about. So did Zane.

Felix jumped in, shifting their fingers into sharp claws and taking a swipe at the bird as it dove down for another shot at Zane. They only wanted to scare it, not hurt it. Turning to Zane, they ushered for him to run. “Come on! We should, um — find somewhere to hide! What did you do to this bird, anyway?”

—

Birds hadn’t really been covered in the self defense lessons, the focus more on dodging thrown punches and deadly weapons. Could he grab it? It wasn’t big but it looked strong, and both the talons and teeth were menacing. What if there were more? Panicked eyes risked looking away from the attacker for the briefest of moments - the dusky sky was devoid of more birds. For now. Zane had been ready to attempt swatting it away when someone - not someone, Felix - stepped in. 

The bird cawed loudly, angrily, and retreated once more, not losing sight of the vampire it had set its eyes on. “I… right. Yeah, that’s probably smart.” Zane didn’t want to risk it following him into the hospital, for it to start attacking other staff or even worse, patients. So he followed Felix down the street, eerily aware of how silently the bird flew, still keeping up with them every time he glanced back to check. “I didn’t do anything! I just walked out and there it was. It has teeth and- shit.” He hadn’t been quick enough to dodge, the back of his neck now burning from the sharp scratch of talons, blood starting to trickle down. “We need to get inside…” Most of the stores had closed at this hour and they couldn’t very well just barge into someone’s home. 

“There!” Grabbing Felix’s sleeve and pulling them along, Zane made a beeline for where there were lights inside, not caring too much about what was behind the door as long as there was a door between them and the bird. He was quick to shut it behind them, breathing a sigh of relief and pressing his palm against his bleeding neck. It was… silent. Not completely, there was quiet music playing but no one was speaking, each and every patron of the very fancy restaurant they had burst into now staring at Zane and Felix. Oops. 

—

Ducking back into the hospital that Zane had just exited might have been the obvious path free, but it was also the worst one Felix could imagine. If the bird followed them through those glass doors, it could wreak havoc on sick people trying to get better and doctors and nurses trying to do their jobs. Felix was glad to see that Zane agreed with it not being an option without either of them having to say it, was glad to know that they didn’t have to worry about that kind of thing right now. It was good, really, because they had a lot of other things to worry about instead.

“Inside!” Felix agreed with a nod. “Is there, um, I mean, if we could find a — a warehouse or something, just, you know, something where it can’t — can’t follow us…” They were babbling, which was… to be expected, where Felix was concerned. When they got nervous, their mouth was a faucet that they had no real ability to shut off, and giant birds diving from the sky in an attempt to kill their friend (Zane was still their friend, wasn’t he?) was certainly a thing to be nervous about. 

Zane must have been nervous, too, being the subject of said diving bird’s apparent homicidal rage, but he still managed to keep his head about him. Better than Felix did, really, which Felix thought they probably ought to feel bad for. Zane found a building where the lights were still on, dragged Felix into the door, shut it behind them. Felix breathed a sigh of relief, although… the relief didn’t really last. They felt the eyes on them before they really saw them, looking up to see a huge room full of very well-dressed people staring at them. 

A man in a black tuxedo strode up to the pair, eyeing them warily. “Do you have a reservation?” He demanded. Perplexed, Felix looked to Zane, then back to the man.

“Um… yes. It’s under… Smith.” That was a common enough last name, wasn’t it? 

—

Slowly, Zane unclenched his grip on Felix’s jacket, even though their current situation almost felt just as (if not more) precarious than the murderous bird creature one. He managed a smile as a disapproving gaze raked over the two of them and Zane tried to straighten his posture, tugging his jacket closed to hide the worn hoodie underneath. Giving Felix the smallest of shrugs as they stared helplessly back at him, Zane glanced back out through the window. On the other side of the street, perched patiently on the back of a bench, sat the bird. Two birds now, actually. 

“Smith…” the distinguished looking gentleman repeated and Zane clamped his mouth shut - he really didn’t want to get thrown back outside. “Yes, Smith, table for two.” Zane blinked at Felix, whom he was currently very grateful for, and then the two of them were being led past the curious patrons toward their table - like a strange catwalk featuring the worst dressed people inside the restaurant. “Shall I take your coats?” the server offered and Zane quickly shook his head, aware that he would both look more out of place if he did and of the blood that had seeped through the sleeve of his hoodie. The bleeding had already stopped but the pair didn’t exactly need to draw more attention to themselves. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Zane hissed loudly once they were left alone with their menus, smiling a bit deliriously at Felix. “You’re amazing.” Trying to calm himself with adrenaline still cranking everything up to a hundred, Zane pulled the lapel higher up to hopefully hide the still stinging scratched on his neck. “Okay, we should probably find another way out of here before the actual Smiths show up.”

—-

It was like time stood still, for a moment. Felix held their breath as the well-dressed man checked his list, well aware of the bird (or birds? It had friends?) waiting patiently for them to return back to the street. They prepared another excuse for if the name Smith wasn’t on the list — could they claim that maybe the reservation had been made under another name instead? There were two of them, so maybe that meant they got two chances. Felix could try to pass for a Jones if they had to.

Luckily, though, it wasn’t necessary. The gamble played off, somehow, and they were being led to a table that some poor couple of Smiths would be missing later. Felix sent a silent apology towards the strangers who hadn’t yet shown up, but another quick glance out the window eased their guilty conscience a little. It wasn’t like they had a lot of options here, was it? The host asked about their coats, and Felix looked down at the ratty t-shirt they’d thrown on before their walk. “Um…” They were wearing nothing underneath it. “I think we’re good!” They flashed a large, forced smile, bringing their hand out from under the table to add in a hearty thumbs up. 

“Very well. I’ll send a waiter over shortly with your menus.” 

The well-dressed man turned on his heel then, disappearing back to the front podium and looking a little unhappy about it. With him gone, Felix relaxed in their seat a little, all-too-aware of the large number of eyes still glued to them. “Yeah,” they breathed. “Um, kind of a shot in the dark. Do you think there’s a back door? Or… a bathroom window? Or should we —”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” A crisp English accent greeted, sliding up next to the table. “My name is Archibald and I’ll be your server. Can I get you started with something from our vast wine collection?”

“Uh,” Felix squeaked, any confidence they’d earned from the success of their earlier ploy leaving them all at once as they looked back to Zane. He could handle a server, right?

—

Any of those options sounded preferable to either walking out the front door or sitting here for much longer, Zane nodding along enthusiastically as Felix rattled off possibilities. And then Archibald was at their table, halting any discussions of an escape plan. Mustering a smile, immensely grateful that he could neither blush or sweat from stress, Zane faltered at the squeak from Felix. They had been on a roll but apparently, it had been a short one. He cleared his throat, body going unnaturally still in an attempt not to fidget under the judgemental, British stare. “Surprise us?” Zane asked meagerly and yup, that had not been the correct answer.

“Certainly,” the server bit out, a vein in his forehead throbbing. Man, the two of them were just ruining these poor servers’ evening, weren’t they? 

“I’ve never been anywhere this fancy,” Zane admitted, returning to the stage whispering. “I don’t even like wine. Okay, I don’t know how much time we have before Archibald returns, or they totally realize we’re not supposed to be here. I’ll check if the bathroom would work, you try and see if there are any back doors, maybe near the kitchen?” he suggested, glancing around and giving an offended looking woman a timid smile. She did not return it. “You can go first, I’ll keep him occupied with… wine talk.” 

—

Felix felt a little bad for Archibald, who didn’t seem particularly enthused about the idea of ‘surprising’ his guests with wine. Felix had never worked as a waiter before — they’d been too young to legally hold a job before their father moved them into the woods, and the only employment they’d had since returning to society was at the Grit Pit — but they couldn’t imagine things like this were fun. Servers dealt with a lot of terrible people. Felix wondered how much cash they had in their wallet, and whether or not it would be weird to leave a tip before sneaking out the back even if they had no plans of actually letting Archibald serve them anything.

“Me either,” they admitted, glancing sheepishly to Zane. “I don’t even drink that much, honestly, and wine is like — I mean, it all kind of tastes the same? People say things about it, but it all just tastes like the stuff from the box at the grocery store to me.” They were getting off topic again, rambling. Archibald was an attentive server; he was sure to be back any minute now. And Zane was right, they needed to make their own way out before someone figured out they didn’t belong and made them leave through the front. “Sounds like a plan,” he nodded, looking determined. “I’ll go check and let you know.” 

With a new purpose in mind, Felix stood and marched towards the back of the dining room. Ducking towards the kitchen, they tried to walk with purpose and act as though they belonged, despite the eyes on them. When they got to the kitchen, they waited for a waiter to exit before slipping inside, pressing themself against the wall. They glanced around for an exit, but their eyes were quickly drawn to one of the cooks instead. She was holding a bag of… gummy worms? And sticking  said gummy worms onto the plate she was preparing? It seemed almost as though she was moving in a trance, though no one around her seemed to have any objections to whatever was going on. Felix gawked for a moment, coming back to themself only when the sound of the door opening again caught their attention. They quickly slipped back out into the dining room, walking back over to the table where Zane sat.

“Have you ever seen Ratatouille?” They asked, sliding back into their seat. “Do you think worms can do that?”

—

Maybe it would have been helpful to have stumbled into this situation with someone… fancier. Though, now that Zane thought about it, he didn’t really know anyone fancy. Xó perhaps but she was human and no way would he have wanted someone fragile dragged into this mess. Maybe Felix was the best choice - they were helpful and wouldn’t make fun of him but also not so easily hurt. At least not physically, the shifter was, regretfully, very easy to emotionally hurt. Snapping back to the situation at hand, Zane gave a nod that he hoped inspired confidence, keeping watch as Felix walked towards the kitchen with a purpose. If only this fake courage was real. 

Felix disappeared from sight and Zane craned his neck, peeking out through the windows at the front of the restaurant. The coast was not yet clear, wings flapping impatiently and a quick count provided five birds before their friend Archibald was back. “The wine, sir,” he announced, looking skeptically at the empty chair at the table. 

“Bathroom,” Zane provided lamely, peeking around the waiter. No sign of Felix yet. Something that was probably the name of the wine came from Archibald’s mouth, followed by some region in France, something about acidity and a harvesting process before the tiniest bit of wine was poured into Zane’s glass. He blinked, smiling stiffly before noting the expectant expression on Archibald’s face. “Oh, uh…” Picking up the glass for a sip - it tasted like good wine, probably - Zane gave an approving hum and a nod which was luckily enough for Archibald to pour more wine into each glass and leave. 

Zane was still grimacing at the aftertaste of the wine, wondering if it was his undead tastebuds or just wine tasting bad, when Felix shuffled back into their seat. He had indeed seen Ratatouille but what that had to do with their current bird-and-fancy-restaurant situation was… worms? “I think… anything is possible at this point?” No sooner had the words left his mouth when there was a commotion, one of the actual guests slipping onto the floor, writhing around and wrinkling the fancy dress she was wearing. Writhing around like… a worm. “What exactly did you see?” Zane questioned, wide eyes turning back to Felix. 

—

There was wine in the glasses at the table, which must have meant Archibald had been by. He was a very attentive server, Felix thought. That was a bad thing right now, since Felix and Zane really needed a strategizing session, and strategizing was hard to do when a super British guy in a tux kept asking you if you needed anything. (Did Batman feel this way? Was Batman ever annoyed by Alfred’s attentiveness? Felix felt a little guilty. Maybe Archibald was just trying to channel his inner Alfred.) 

Reaching out, Felix held the wine glass in their hand but made no move to take a sip. If Archibald looked over, it would probably be good if they were at least pretending to do what they were supposed to be doing. Which was, in this case, enjoying fancy wine and looking at the menu. Felix went ahead and flipped that open, too, pretending to study it very intently as Zane spoke.

“They don’t have hands! The rat in that movie, you know, it used its hands to steer when it —” A woman fell on the floor and began writhing. None of the staff seemed interested or concerned. Felix stared at her with wide eyes, then glanced back to Zane. “There are worms in the kitchen,” they announced. “Um, in the food. They’re putting worms in the food.”

—

The attempt to tie Ratatouille into their current situation was cut short, Felix really only getting as far as to accurately note that worms did in fact not have hands. Zane wished he knew why exactly no one seemed to care about the current commotion except the two of them but granted, they weren’t supposed to be here. Maybe this was part of the restaurant’s deal, something they would have known about if they hadn’t snatched this table from some other duo. Or maybe this was another installation of some unexplained horrors. 

“Worms in the food,” Zane parroted slowly, just as a low thud marked the arrival of another patron now writhing on the floor. “What do you think the odds are of this being like… a super weird flash mob and not something actually dangerous?” he asked under his breath, leaning across the table towards Felix but straightening up instantaneously at the arrival of a tuxedo clad form at their table. Archibald. Great. 

“Your food,” he announced, placing two plates on the table. Zane was one hundred percent sure they had not ordered anything yet, maybe fancy places brought out the same first dish for everyone? “Enjoy,” Archibald instructed, stepping away before Zane could fact check his theory or even ask what they were getting. Although the latter question got answered simply by looking down at the table, to the two plates in front of them, adorned with colorful looking gummy worms. 

Blinking down at the plate, Zane’s confusion grew. Were these the worms Felix had been talking about? Never mind they didn’t have hands, they weren’t even alive? Just sugar and coloring formed into the shape of a worm. Even so, considering how weird things were getting, probably safer not to ingest anything coming from that kitchen. “I think now is the time to get… Felix?” Zane really had tried not to sound… well, scolding but it was hard as he watched the dubious gummy worms vanish into Felix's mouth. 

—

Was Ratatouille the best metaphor to use in this situation? The more Felix thought about it, the less the worm thing actually seemed like the plot of the Pixar movie. The worms didn’t really seem to be helping the chefs cook, just… going into the food. And Felix was pretty sure their intention wasn’t to help the chef, or to pursue their lifelong love of cooking. They weren’t really sure what the worms’ motivation could be although, to be fair, Felix wasn’t sure they’d ever known what any worm’s motivation was. They had a feeling this was… not good, though.

“It’s never a flash mob,” they said mournfully. “I always hope it’ll be a flash mob, and then it never is. I’m not even sure flash mobs are a real thing outside of, like, movies and viral videos.” Which meant that, whatever these worms were, they were probably dangerous. Or… as dangerous as a worm was capable of being.

Before the pair could talk strategy, though, Archibald was back. He placed a pair of plates on the table, and Felix didn’t remember ordering anything, but — wow. The food placed in front of him smelled exactly like the tamales his mother used to slave over on holidays, didn’t it? Felix stared at the plate, distantly aware that Zane was speaking, but… his voice sounded more like white noise than any actual words. Felix was far too focused on the worms on the plate, and the memory of their mother’s cooking warming their stomach. 

Their hand moved without any input from their mind, scooping up a handful of worms and shoveling them down their throat. They tasted incredible, but Felix only managed to swallow a few before their body was dropping onto the floor of the restaurant, squirming and writhing like… well, a worm.

—

Gaping, Zane could do very little except stare at Felix’s writhing form for the first few moments, at a bit of a loss. Still, it seemed he was the only one that was at all put off by this behavior as more and more customers dropped to the ground. The waiters were unphased, a few of them now exiting the kitchen with more plates, although all pretense was gone now as they simply dumped the contents of the dishware straight to the ground where the fancy dressed people were wriggling about. If a few bites of these gummy worms could do this, Zane didn’t want to find out what they did if eaten in excess. 

“You haven’t touched your meal, sir,” Archibald stated, seemingly materializing at the table the second Zane stood up, startling a yelp from him. His eyes narrowed at the waiter - willing participant or victim? Didn’t matter right at this moment, the priority was getting Felix out. 

Gently pushing past Archibald with a polite smile (why was he bothering at this point?) Zane crouched next to his friend’s writhing form. “I think it’s time to leave,” he told Felix, which was all the warning the shifter got before they were being hoisted up off the ground. The weight wasn’t exactly an issue but the wriggling was making it a bit hard, especially since Zane was also looking for a possible back entrance and trying to ignore Archibald’s incessant ‘sir?’ “Hey Felix? If you can wriggle less, like, at all, that would be really great.”

—

More of the gummy worms were deposited on the floor beside them, and Felix slurped them into his mouth without the use of hands. They tasted just as heavenly as the ones from their plate, and smelled just as nostalgic. The only thing that might have tasted better in this moment, Felix thought, was some dirt. They wondered if they could request it, but their tongue felt strange and foreign in their mouth, like it didn’t quite belong there. 

Distantly, they were aware of conversation happening around them. It all sounded a little muffled, like it was happening above ground while they were under it. Come to think of it, it seemed darker than it had been before, too, though Felix could sense that the light was still there. They continued writhing on the ground until the ground disappeared from beneath them, suddenly far away. 

Even so, the writhing continued. Felix wriggled with no real purpose in mind, not even entirely sure why they were doing it. There was more speaking, muffled but… familiar. It took a moment to recognize Zane’s voice, like trying to remember something from a dream. Wriggle less? They could try, maybe. They attempted to shove the urge to wiggle down, but the movement only stopped for a heartbeat, only slowed a fraction. Zane didn’t really get it, did he? Felix needed to writhe. They needed to find… “Dirt?” The word was mangled as he forced it out, sounding foreign and unnatural. They hoped Zane would get it.

—

This was his punishment for even daring to think that today would be a nice, calm and normal day. Divine intervention from the same entity that reared its head whenever anyone uttered ‘quiet’ inside a hospital. A hand grabbed at Zane’s arm and under different circumstances, the vampire probably would have tried for a civil discussion but as it was, he worried for Felix and wanted the shifter out of here as soon as possible. So he yanked his arm away and shot a withering glare at Archibald, flashing red eyes and all, which luckily did the trick to make the waiter cower. Dirt. 

“Alright, bud. We’ll… find you some dirt,” Zane promised, distracted as he had just opened the back door, head whipping around in search of those damned birds that had gotten them into this whole mess. Nothing, for now. Grateful to have left the restaurant (and wondering who the heck to report this to in case the poor patrons were in danger) Zane breathed a sigh of relief before moving on to the next issue. He couldn’t take Felix back to the Pit, not like this. And apparently they were craving… dirt. Moving quickly towards the street, giving an awkward nod at passersby that stared, and with good reason, Zane somehow managed to hail a cab. 

When they finally reached his house, Zane paid the driver and apologized, dragging Felix’s writhing form out of the cab. Near the front porch, he set them down, next to badly tended dirt patches that Zane was now happy to have devoid of plants. He didn’t know if giving into the dirt demand would make things worse or not - all he knew was that he’d keep an eye on Felix for as long as it took. As an apology for Leo and a thank you for tonight’s assistance. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, certain that Felix couldn’t even really hear him but needing to tell them for the hundredth time anyway. 

—

Everything seemed secondary to the craving clawing at their gut. They were being moved, they were being spoken to, but Felix couldn’t quite register any of it. There was a hand trying to stop them, there was a startled sound as it disappeared. There was a bounce of steps as they writhed and wriggled, though they weren’t dropped. A car door opened, and they recognized the sound only distantly, like they were hearing it in their sleep and their mind couldn’t quite be bothered to incorporate it into the dream it was busy crafting. Most of what followed was the same — the hum of the engine beneath them, the sound of Zane’s rumbling tones as he spoke to them or to someone else or to no one at all. None of it mattered more than the craving for dirt.

The car door opened again, and Felix was scooped out and carried once more. Even if they’d been more conscious of the world around them, they wouldn’t have recognized the location. They’d never been to Zane’s house, after all. But they recognized the smell, the unmistakable scent of dirt. Without meaning to, they shifted their nose enough to enhance the sensation, letting out a low hum of satisfaction.

Finally, they were placed on the ground next to the dirt. Felix flopped over ungracefully, falling face first into the coveted substance. It filled their mouth, and they began covering their body with it entirely, rubbing it on every exposed inch of skin. When they were sufficiently covered, they sighed contentedly, inching forward with their face still on the ground to lay more of their body in the dirt. This was exactly what they’d needed.

—

Zane sighed, wishing pointlessly that he could have switched places with Felix. Not just because they’d stuck their neck out for him and this was the karma they got, or because Felix just deserved one normal night, but because from the little Zane did know, he figured that piece of shit Leo would find some way to spin this into being Felix’s fault. But Zane couldn’t switch places with the shifter and get them right back to the Pit. He could only be there, make sure Felix was physically fine considering the circumstances, ready with some water and a blanket for when this would end. It had to end, right? He’d know if people had been… dying from writhing around in the dirt until they starved. 

Worry consumed him for the next few hours of watching Felix, periodically checking their pulse and body temperature, until they finally seemed to come to. Zane would offer them anything he could, including a shower to wash off, only for Felix to decline in their rush to return to the Pit. And there was still absolutely nothing he could do except let them bolt off to accept whatever punishment they most certainly didn’t deserve. 

—

[rn-zane]

[pm] You have no idea I'm selling you out if we get caught.

Sure, faire sounds fun! Days are a little cramped though so after dinner-ish? When's your next shift break?

[pm] Wow sneaking me into the nurses office? You're such a rebel.

I'm up for anything. I've been wanting to check out the faire though, if you're up for that?

[rn-zane]

[pm] You can feel like a failure without being one, just like you can feel anxious without anything you should feel anxious over. It's all based on how you look at it, anyway.

Regan... why can't Jade know my real name or job? Both of which she knows at this point, by the way. Please. No more talking around the subject.

[pm] Someone is not a failure would not feel like a failure. They would stand tall, and proud.

I get that quite often. Is it really a lie? Your name could be Zanzibar. Have you ever seen your birth certificate? Most people haven't.

[rn-zane]

[pm] The detective part. You know the brace would get more comfortable with time. And at least it won't make your knee get worse. I won't force it on you, though.

[pm] Which one? [...] Waste of time. On both counts. Knee hurts either way, and the brace is [...] not comfortable.

[rn-zane]

[pm] [user feels like he has failed, decides to leave Wyatt be even though he really, really wants to push it]

[pm] I said too much already. Let's just let it lie. [ user deletes this conversation ]

[rn-zane]

[pm] I have friends who are [...] not exactly normal. Just wondering how much I can share with you before you try and get me in for a full psych eval.

[pm] If you want me to forget I will. But why did you ask?

[rn-zane]

[pm] I don't think worms are known for their amazing eyesight but... seriously? You're not the tallest but definitely far from [...] worm size. And any other worm qualities. [...] Jonas, please don't feel bad for a worm that kidnapped you and was going to force you into marriage. [user can't believe this is a sentence he has now written]

[pm] Oh well they seemed to think I was also a worm. I am not sure what the prince saw in me. It does! Although the prince seemed quite sad when we left. A friend says I should not sympathize with him though, it is very hard not to.

[rn-zane]

[pm] Oh. Yeah, alright, totally get that. That's good. That you guys have each other. I think [...] he also needs someone.

[pm] I think I'm always at risk. [...] Yeah, we talked. We're [...] making plans. I don't want to talk about them much, though, just in case.

[rn-zane]

Great, I'm sure something wonderful and ominous will come my way via the ER regarding legs soon, then. I do remember hearing about some weird shrimp stuff. Personal experience?

I'm... sorry for being a runner? You got stabbed? Honestly, that tracks. How are you holding up?

I didn't hear shit about it, no. I don't know what the fuck happened. Oh fuck, not shrimp. Dude, be wary of anything shrimp related in this town, weird shit happens.

Oh god, a runner? I mean, I do cardio. I do go running on a treadmill. I've never considered running on a trail after I got stabbed out on one. Fucking nerve-wracking.

[rn-zane]

[pm] Alright then. Although you aren't technically allowed in there so we will have to be discreet about it.

Within the limits of not too loud and not too late? Depends on how chill you want to go, so like ranging from poetry reading at a coffee house to movies to maybe checking out the faire? And I'm not going to lie, none of those ideas are mine, I asked the others to help me out since I'm barely ever out and about.

[pm] Excuses. But I will take you up on that offer. I'll make sure to hunt you down the next time I'm bringing in a patient and need a little snack to keep going.

Speaking of being the best paramedic, I still have to hold up my side of the bargain. Any ideas on what to do?

[rn-zane]

[pm] Well yeah, but people ending up feeling like failures because they can't live up to ridiculous expectations is the real trouble.

You're not saying much of anything that makes sense, I'm trying to figure it out. No one likes the smell of that much cologne. [...] I'm not lying to Jade. Not for no good reason.

[user figures this is one argument he doesn't care about winning]

[pm] Then it gives one something to strive for, a purpose. Not all of us are failures. I am, thou

What? I never said such a thing. Jade isn't very scary, is she? Not that I get frightened. As I mentioned before. She's just, uh... she doesn't like the smell of your cologne. Probably. Although, she's also partial to

Because you're passionate about fangs, which are teeth. I rest my case.

[rn-zane]

[pm] Zanzibar, is it? I too would go by Zane if that was my name, for the record. Anyway, this is Jade! I'm sure you remember me. Suuuch a bummer you and Regan's roomie era didn't work out, huh? Oh well, I'm sure there will be another lucky duck that will snatch Regan. Plus, I'm sure your lifestyle makes it hard to find people to live with, amirite?

[pm] [...] Look, I don't know why exactly Regan wants me to lie but I'm not big on that if I can help it. Definitely not called Zanzibar, just Zane. [...] You mean working shifts at the hospital?

[rn-zane]

[pm] I think that's rarely the case with expectations. Most of them are usually the kind no one can ever really fulfil.

[...] [user needs a moment to just read between the lines of Regan's rambling] So if I'm the scared skunk and you want me to lie to Jade for no apparent reason, I can only assume it's Jade I'm supposed to be scared of. Why, Regan?

[...] Also I don't like teeth, I just wanted to get rid off the fake fangs.

[pm] Strange. I cannot relate. Expectations placed on me have always been reasonable and necessary. I am a failure

The cologne was to make you smell. It was a distraction. As a skunk might spray someone when frightened. In this scenario you are the skunk, not me (and I do not get frightened), even though I sprayed the cologne on you. I broke your mirror. I will pay for a replacement if necessary. Though, you invited me in and owned the cologne that made me sneeze, so whose fault is it really?

I have always been a poor roommate. My grandmother used to say I breathe too much. Which, now that I think about it, is even more... coming from someone who loathes silence. She must really despise when I brea I don't trust you to not steal my roadkill. So I think everything worked out in the end, did it not? Except And Well If my bone partner asks, Zane is the fake name you give people. Your true name is Zanzibar. And you aren't even a nurse. You work for an up-and-coming toothpaste manufacturing company conducting stealth studies in hospitals and dentist offices (I am aware you like teeth).

[rn-zane]

[pm] Yeah, I don't want to do anything to put you further at risk. [...] Have you talked to Wyatt at all? I don't think I feel like he's

[pm] It does suck. [...] Okay. That's good. Not you not hanging out with Wyatt, you staying away. Wyatt is cool and I think he needs more friends. Yeah. I can pick it up, sure. Are you Do you not want to It's okay if you don't want to hang out with