sinndbleds

[sinndbleds]

I’ve been thinking this over for a while with Siobhan - her blood ability, trying to figure it all out. And I thought it would be interesting to have her be quarter-demon. The grey man, whom was Lucifer; gifting her siblings. The grey man that Siobhan would meet would be a demon in disguise - giving her their blood - granting her the creation ability, and bringing her to be stronger compared to her siblings.

[sinndbleds]

@xmultimusesx sent: [ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger, for Siobhan from Remmick.

Her hand tighten its grip on the faux leather handle of her hand bag, whimpering as she took a step back. Green hues nervously glanced upward to the female vampire - whom carried a lustful gaze. She craved for blood. Siobhan just wanted to go home. She had been working at the gas station from seven o'clock until close to three in the morning - overwhelmed with unruly customers, teenagers loitering, and drunks trying to sway their way in getting a free hotdog. She was exhausted, and was just eager to curl up in bed.

Becoming a vampire's late night snack was not on her to do this.

The woman would reveal her canines alongside a snarl, bringing Siobhan to pull out her wand - ready to defend herself. She didn't want to die. But in a flash - a dark figure appeared - single street light shined on the figure - Remmick. He would stand protectively in front of the red head, and the female vampire would release another snarl. "Go away! She's my prey!" She sneered. Siobhan was familiar with Remmick - often her brother would bond with him. He seemed nice, but Siobhan purposely avoided him. He was a vampire, after all, and trusting him was difficult for her.

[sinndbleds]

🐝  *  ―  𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮/𝑩𝑬𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑳𝑬𝑭𝑻 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

BEING LEFT ❛  wait! you can't just leave me here alone!  ❜ ❛  i don't know how to live in a world where i'm all alone.  ❜ ❛  everyone i've ever loved has either left or died.  ❜ ❛  i'm not yet ready for it to end.  ❜ ❛  will we ever see each other again?  ❜ ❛  please! you promised! you promised you'd never leave.  ❜ ❛  if you leave now, i'll never forgive you.  ❜ ❛  are you really going to leave after everything we've been through?  ❜ ❛  how am i supposed to keep on like before when you're not here anymore?  ❜ ❛  i knew this day would come, but i hoped it wouldn't be today.  ❜ ❛  please don't go. not yet. just stay a little longer ...  ❜ ❛  don't just walk away. say something, anything, before you go.  ❜ ❛  so that's it? you're just ... gone?  ❜ ❛  you can't just walk away like none of this meant anything!  ❜ ❛  why does everyone i love always leave?  ❜ ❛  i should've known better than to think you'd stay.  ❜ ❛  is it really that easy for you to walk away?  ❜ ❛  you said we'd face the world together. now i have to face it alone.  ❜ ❛  if you're going, at least look me in the eyes and say goodbye.  ❜ ❛  i don't have the strength to watch you walk away again.  ❜

LEAVING ❛  i'm sorry, but i cannot stay here any longer.  ❜ ❛  for once, i'm trying to do the right thing.  ❜ ❛  you don't need me here anymore. you've always been stronger on your own.  ❜ ❛  i wish staying was enough. i really do.  ❜ ❛  don't look at me like that. if i don't walk away now, i never will.  ❜ ❛  one day, you'll understand why i have to walk away.  ❜ ❛  i wish i could stay, but this isn't my place anymore.  ❜ ❛  don't wait for me. i don't know when ... if i'll be back.  ❜ ❛  i wish there was another way. but there isn't.  ❜ ❛  this isn't goodbye because i don't care. it's because i do. too much.  ❜ ❛  this goodbye is the hardest thing i've ever had to do.  ❜ ❛  i'm leaving because i love you too much to keep hurting you.  ❜ ❛  i'm sorry i couldn't be what you needed me to be.  ❜ ❛  i have to go find who i am without all this.  ❜ ❛  just because i'm leaving doesn't mean i stopped caring.  ❜ ❛  i'm not running. i'm just done waiting.  ❜ ❛  every step i take away from here is breaking me.  ❜ ❛  i can't keep pretending this place feels like home.  ❜ ❛  the hardest part isn't leaving. it's knowing you'll be here when i'm not.  ❜ ❛  sometimes goodybe is the kindest thing we can say.  ❜

[sinndbleds]

She had just finished placing the last soda bottle in the refrigerator - taking a step back to close the glass door - shite, she stepped on someone's foot. With a soft gasp, she whirled around to face him. "S-Sorry!" She apologized, light shade of red appeared on her cheeks and took a step back. Christ, I need to pay more attention to my surroundings.

"N...No...it was...not. My...f...fault," Her voice was soft, as a shy smile appeared. Briefly, she was quiet as her eyes would glance on him, "Oh!" She would gasp again, scurrying over to the other side of the cash register. "Y-You want...to pay! I-I'm sorry f...for n..n...not paying a...attention." She brushed a strand of auburn lock behind her ear, a hand reach across to slide a plastic basket filled with shortbread cookies. A piece of paper taped on it's front - 25 cents per cookie, written in black marker. "Here, on th...th...the house. Take as...m...m...many as y...ou'd like. B...Baked them...l...last night. I h...ope they...taste good. They're...sh...sh...shortbread...cookies."

Her hand hovered above the cash register, now carrying a genuine sweet smile. "Now, w...w...were you...using the...gas p...p...ump today?"

— ˀ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤaccidentally steps on his foot, she would gasp. "s-sorry!" from siobhan, unprompted @sinndbleds

fog gust and overcast shortens the distance silas can see out the gas station window. only travelling through, parched for gas, he doesn't draw the familiarity of a local or frequent. nor does he dawn the face of a stranger eager for the extra eyes and small-talk conversation. he simply is. and that's how he prefers it to be. with a two-four in hand of the state's homebrew, it ain't his favourite thing, but it'll get the job done. blue gaze lands on his beaten truck waiting for him at pump three; and silas realizes he has to pump the left end of his back bumper into place again. the fucking thing has been—

—a soft pressure.

bodied by something soft, the man's attention snaps from truck to girl: sporting a uniform shirt similar to the attendant outside. he pulls his occupied hands back, chest square, but doesn't so much as breath when she catches herself. the soft apology she gives—as thin as plumes—is waved off when silas quickly shakes his head. " my fault. " been standing there like an idiot, moping off about shit that doesn't even matter. though, rather than explain that to her: silas just looks down at the girl with cerulean eyes and a flicker of an apologetic smile. an honourable attempt at one, that is.

[sinndbleds]

Auburn brows would scrunch downward, bringing her to frown. Siobhan could feel no rudeness in John's words, it was out of care, but she could not find it in herself to leave him. She could not imagine what might happen to him if she did. She knew that Teasle - feckin prick - would harm him. And she could never forgive herself if she allowed for that to happen. Siobhan was not a cruel person, she did not want to hurt the innocent, yet if one dares lay a finger on John - she will make sure they regret it. She will protect John.

"No, n..ot with...out you!" Her hand would reach over to take his, gently tugging him closer, eyes moved to behind him, terrified that either Teasle or one of those froot loops will jump out and attack John. She would step over to stand in front of the area where Preston had fled, shaking her head. "I will...not! I...d...d...don't want th-th...em to hurt...you! Please, m...m...move away...be...before they...s...see you." Her voice was softer, matching a whisper, afraid those men might hear her. "Curse...at m...me all...y...you want. I...am...not l...leaving you."

Siobhan's eyes would move to the scrapes on his arm, she would let go of his hand and reached inside her bag - searching through it - finally, taking out a glass jar filled with clear jelly. That jar would slowly float from her hand, letting go of his hand to unscrew its lid. That lid would slowly float above her; her fingers dipped inside to scoop up some of the jelly, "M...Might sting...a little," she rubbed the jelly on the scrapes - slowly, both the jelly and those scrapes would vanish. "Are...y...you hurt...an...an...anywhere...else?" She asked, her eyes scanned him over from head to toe, wiping the left over jelly off on to her pant leg. The jar's lid would float over to land on top of it - twisting close on its own and would slowly float back inside her bag.

"Th...Those men...d...don't scare me," Green eyes would stare in to his, smiling. "Please, let...m...me pro...tect you." Her hand would take his again, gently squeezing. "Let's f...find a...spot to...r...rest. Hungry? I..brought...some f..food for...you."

Lightweight and semi-automatic, the bullet of a AR-15 rifle cleared away the serenity of the woods, such peaceful ambiance carelessly interrupted by law abiding hands. A beautiful reunion between John and Siobhan, the echo of birdcalls and squirrel chittering instantly stopped, Deputy Preston determined to follow orders. Aimed and pulled the trigger with ease, as natural as breathing; at the sound of the blast, John's grip upon Siobhan's shoulders tightened, until the knuckles turned white. A force to be acted upon her in the seconds that would come thereafter - to be pulled away from the impact, embraced by John with himself in the front, his back exposed to take the bullet. Worried more for her safety than his own, John cared little for the risks. Decided in the blink of an eye that Siobhan's life was worth more than his, always was and always would be, death welcomed for the promise that she would be okay. Buried for good reason - to protect someone beloved, a lifetime of sorrow and joy finally ended - to be remembered as more than a shattered wanderer. Position fixed to accept the shot, legs bent and arms prepared to spin Siobhan around, John's plans were thwarted by the subtle noise of crushed copper. A bullet crumbled and turned to fine dust.

A gentle touch that had once been upon his cheek but was then held within the air, Siobhan's fingertips still covered by the remnant of tears, John stared with wide, shocked eyes. Mouth loosened and jaw slack, his grasp on Siobhan's shoulders released completely. Freed her from the heaviness of his own hands; lingered lazily, until burdened by the shape of the gun, the weapon that had been used against them. Preston wasted no time in making an escape. Darted into the trees faster than had ever been seen, endured lashes from limbs and stabbings from chipped bark. Braved the disarray of smooth versus coarse rock, the cruel slope that was the mountainside, the entrance path. Presented himself to Teasle and the others in the colors of his own blood, spread across his face like warpaint, a bedlam of frustrations and mockery to be heard. A supposedly ridiculous story, per grumbles from Teasle, Galt made to handle lookout from a helicopter. A hunt for one changed to two - assault onto an officer not to be taken lightly, the strictest of justice to be hammered down.

Rifle lifted in his hands, its black barrel cradled, John stared at Siobhan wordlessly. Unable to find what would best make sense - confused but not entirely surprised - long held suspicions confirmed. From the first encounter, her face, her voice, the nature of her character and the ways of her person. Ethereal, more beautiful than the world deserved, a fantasy come to life before John's eyes. A wisdom that was far older than her appearance, an ancient grace, from the generations that could only be found in the pages of history. Almost too lovely to touch, dared not to behold, nevertheless the sweetest of friends. Someone so kind and compassionate, who provided for John in more ways than he could ever repay. Countless happy memories, warmth and safety, comfort discovered in Siobhan's delicate manner and tender attitude. Only wonderfully had she ever treated him. She and Blaise alike, allowed John into their fold and their home. A rugged lone wolf, so cautious of others and scared, who ached to be loved despite confessions on the contrary. Siobhan was one of the best things to have happened to John. A miracle of red hair and bright smiles; to be adored forever.

Fingertips brushing across the dented span of the rifle, the scratches noted to the stock, the depletion of the butt's steel, John acknowledged the revelation. Spared some moments to their power, the importance that was owned to by Siobhan. A woman who possessed abilities beyond the modern world - more than gunfire, more than blade - a witch. Supernatural feats that could both be used for and against them, John and Siobhan put into more trouble than not. Another reason for their capture to be so achieved, to be used for the sake of Teasle's own goals was a fate that John wasn't ready to lose Siobhan to. Would never allow for her to be part of; heartened by defenses that were more than his own fists, he would keep them both safe. Guard their lives until the last breath, whatever it would take to get Siobhan home and back to Blaise. She didn't deserve to be stuck with John. Running for cover like an animal, cleaning the grime from her wounds, to be cloaked in woe and anguish. It was he that the police wanted. It'd be only he that they would get.

Distant chatter made louder by the addition of a few more men, the beep and bop of horns and sirens, the party involved in the search for John had expanded. Radio conference to be collected amongst the return of crow caws; demands for the state troopers, the national guard, every available K-9 unit. Desperate pleas announced for the aid and support of devoted volunteers, hunters, trackers, bored veterans. All who were able and so kind, Hope's finest, efforts warned to be dutiful and careful, John declared to be an unstable, dangerous offender. Prone to violence and confirmed to be armed; not alone, his accomplice just as unpredictable. All parties to be in groups, to call as soon as any signs were spotted. A second wave of terror washed over, John licked his dry lips, the war between himself and the police not yet settled. Another battle commenced, to result in more blood spilled, more pain and panic. Peace wasn't to be an option. He wouldn't be left alone.

"No." John barked stubbornly, backing away from the forest where Preston had scampered, the direction of the other police. "Siobhan, listen to me. Go home. Now."

Requested not in viciousness but in love, John unable to even think of what would become of himself if something happened to her, bound to be destroyed and devastated, his baritone almost harsh, more paces backwards made.

"Teasle, the others, they won't hesitate to put you down. They almost did. It doesn't matter that you have powers, that you're a... a witch. They won't stop until they've gotten what they wanted, until they get me. Go home, Siobhan. Go back to Blaise. Get out of here. God damn it, go home!"

[sinndbleds]

Activity update: My activity will become more slow and less active on here, I am going back to college - taking the Digital Marketing program. Will try my best to be still on here, but I apologize for responses becoming more slower.

[sinndbleds]

@lcstrega | cont (w/Siobhan)

She could feel it; the warmth of a fellow witch's presence. A presence she had long to feel for many years - she did not think today would be the day that she would finally meet another. Naively, she thought she would be welcomed with open arms...not with a sentence that was so sharp - it matched the sharpness of a knife. Oh my.

Siobhan would grimace, swallowing a dry, nervous lump that formed in her throat. Perhaps she was having a bad day. "I...have n...ot met...a...another witch...in a...long time." She would say, bringing a weak smile to her features.

[sinndbleds]

Both Blaise and Siobhan’s literacy skills are poor, it has improved since coming to the modern world, but it’s not the greatest. Their reading level is okay, but do better when reading in Gaelic. Siobhan is the strongest in math, although working at a gas station is not her ideal job - she enjoys counting and using money with customers.

[sinndbleds]

Jack and Hamish can be shy and cautious to strangers, but they do warm up quickly. They love snuggling on one's lap, especially when they would be given pets. However, if they don't like someone - they will bite. It may be a quick nip or an actual hard bite.

[sinndbleds]

"S-Sorry! S-Sorry!" The redhead had just knelt down to scoop up the two-headed rabbit, those beady red eyes were glued on to the cookie - eager to take a bite. She frowned at the creature as she placed them inside her tote bag - both heads peered out, as their noses twitched. Her apology was genuine, and felt awful for failing as an owner for their behaviour; the rabbit jumped out and ran to that sweet smell of the cookie - wanting to have a bite. Their weakness of baked goods was truly a nightmare.

Rarely, Siobhan would take Jack and Hamish for a walk - fear of what others would think of them if their eyes landed on the strange creature. They were sweet who craved for attention, but the worry of someone hurt them always lured in her mind. She did not know what she would do if someone harmed them. She truly loved them.

"...Sorry," She would say for the third time, she would reached inside her bag to take out a container filled with shortbread cookies. "D...Do you...l...ike sh...short...bread...cookies?"

@sinndbleds entered the lab !      ➤ “D-Don’t be…scared. It’s just my rabbit, Hamish and Jack. They love cookies!” For Mandark from Siobhan, unprompted * unprompted / / always accepting !              

his eyes were narrowed , not due to fear or even concern to the sight of the odd lapin. he knows of birth deformities & mutations in animals. they happen all the time. his expression was more that of annoyance , holding his baked treat away from twitching noses and whiskers. he spent part of his allowance on this cookie . . .               it was too special. because his parents hardly ever let him have sweet treats like this. there's a reason he's eating it far away from his house.               he can have all the sweets he likes if they never catch him. ◇    —     ❛     they're    not    having    a    bite.    ❜ mandark said sternly. standing his ground against those adorable faces.     

[sinndbleds]

What a peculiar being. Green hues scanned over Frieza and would trail on to his soldiers - the sight of them brought a form of fear inside of her. None of them appeared human-like, yet they had unique appearances which brought Siobhan to stare. She did not mean to be rude neither what she said to Frieza, this was all a bit overwhelming for her. She did not know how to react besides blurting out her inner thoughts. Nonetheless, her lips would flatten as embarrassment filled in her eyes.

"I'm s...s...sorry," Her voice was weak and horsed, pain filled her vocal cords from saying that sentence. "I did..n...n...ot m...mean to...be...r...ude." Her head would then tilt, blinking curiously. A lord and she needed to submit? She would do a quick curtsy, the calm expression remained. "I-I'm...Siobhan."

“Wh..What are you?” From Siobhan, unprompted @sinndbleds

🌑 What are you. Great, he and his troops have barely arrived and he is already dealing with a resident genius. He could take petty offense over the clueless disrespect he's facing and perform grave punishment on the spot. But where would be the fun in that?

His soldiers will take a moment to settle in the background and survey the area, anyway. His arms behind his back, he assumes a proud, straight stance despite his slim and small frame. His tail swishes across once behind him before the tip curls upwards.

"My, my. As it is, I am hardly someone to grant you any favors if you have to ask in such an asinine and impolite fashion right away. But, I am feeling generous today. You see, there is no jester present in my court, so you get to call me Lord Frieza. Now, do your due diligence and submit."

[sinndbleds]

@ncwherefast sent: [ dream ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare, For Blaise

Midnight had arrived; Siobhan was sound asleep in her bedroom - located on one end of the narrowed hallway. Whilst Blaise was lounging on his bed, occupying his mind with reading. He would flip on to the next page - he froze. Soft mumbling was head from outside. His head craned over to get a better listen - sounding like it had came from the guest bedroom. Blaise would set his book down, crawling out of bed and quietly stepped into the hallway.

Rarely, the McDougal siblings would be accompanied by an unexpected guest; however, their home was always welcomed to those in need. Siobhan had met Dylan from the gas station she had worked. The stranger seemed kind and needed a safe place to stay. And of course, Siobhan could not deny him that. Besides, they had lots of room, and she had the tendency to cook meals with large portions - plenty to go around. She was more than grateful to fill another belly.

"Dylan?" He whispered, tip toeing into the bedroom, frowning as he saw him appearing destress. Poor thing, they're having a nightmare. He would take a seat on the end of the bed, "Dylan," he whispered again, cold hands reached over and ever so gently shook him - cautious of his immortal strength. "Wake up, yer having a bad dream."

[sinndbleds]

Something's wrong.

That small voice roamed around the redhead's mind for several hours. She tried to ignore it; everything was fine between her and Blaise. However, that voice was warning her that someone she cared for was in trouble. John. The siblings' first friend in several years. Someone who they cared deeply. They were sad when he had to leave - proceeding on that he could stay as long as he'd like. Blaise had already considered him part of their small family, but they respected his decision to leave. While hoping that he would one day return. They always appreciated the phone calls and letters they would receive; gather around in the living room with Jack and Hamish on her lap, as Blaise would read the letters. Those were the little things that brighten their day. And they eagerly hoped for the day where John would appear at random on their door step.

Siobhan would rush to the linen closet that carried her spell book and spell supplies - she would grab her book and go to her bedroom. She will practice a tracking spell, she had never done one before, but how hard could it be? It did take some time with concentration - imagining John, but in time she found him - going to a small town, Hope. And then she briefly saw an image of Will Teasle. That bastard - giving John problems, and now treating him like he was an animal that deserved to be hunted. He was no animal - he was her cherished friend. Her brother. Someone she will protect.

Her blood boiled with anger; she would gather her things - including packing some food in containers; stew, stovies, shortbread cookies, and a few slices of dundee cake. She even poured some fresh english tea and hot chocolate in thermos mugs. She will not let him go hungry. And with a bit of magic (she cast a spell on the food; will remain hot until he consumes it), the food will satisfy him. She's sure of it. And then she would grab her broomstick - a stereotypical transportation used by witches, but it was quick, and it would be less of a risk to be caught by these idiotic men. Quietly, she would sneak out of the house - trying to be as quiet as possible. It was the perfect opportunity for her to leave in the early morning - Blaise was asleep, and knew that if he caught her in the act - he would be pissed. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, at least until she brings John back to their home.

Once she stepped out of the apartment, looking around to be sure no one was near - she hopped on her broomstick and flew away. The journey was long, but she made it, and arrived just in the nick of time. Floating high above in the air, she saw John running across the area, and within a few minutes she would see Teasle and his men chasing after him; cheering each other on to shoot him. Stupid pricks. She would wait a moment after before floating down on the grass; her broomstick would transform into a necklace, loosely hanging around her neck. She peered around the area, hoping to spot John. Then, she heard footsteps and saw him running over in the corner. She would leap out in front him, smiling with a wave.

"John - " Siobhan flinched upon the loud gun shot. Gosh, that's loud! Her hand gripped ever so tightly on to his as she followed his lead - her attention moved on the cuts all over him. The sight of it made the anger slowly crawl its way inside of her. Those fuckers harmed him! She will make sure they'd regret it. Once they had stopped, Siobhan was panting, struggling to catch her breath. Running has always been her enemy, but she would not let that be her weakness during this situation. Siobhan paid no mind with his hands on her shoulders. It did not frighten her. He was always gentle with her, she knew he could never harm her. She hoped that he would stop treating her like she was one of those fragile porcelain dolls.

She let out a soft sigh, finally catching her breath. She flashed him a sheepish grin but it was morphed into a concern expression; her hand slowly reached over to wipe his tears away. "No...d...don't cry. It's...okay." Softly, she spoke, grimacing upon his question. She did not know how to answer him. He would not under -

POW!

The gun shot was loud, the silver bullet came flying - belonging to a gun owned by one of those idiots. That hand Siobhan has used to wipe John's tears pulled away and held out to the side. The bullet that targeted Siobhan would freeze midway - her hand clenched, trembling; the bullet slowly disintegrated. The man was staring wide eye, amazed but terrified as to what he was witnessing. Siobhan jerked her hand - that gun jolted out of his grasp, floating towards Siobhan and John - landing gently on to his hands. Her hand did another jerk, an invisible force pushed him down roughly on his back. He would back away, whimpering as terrified eyes stared at her. He scrambled up on his feet and ran away. Look's like the witch is out of the bag.

Her arm lowered to her side, turning her attention back on to him, frowning. "...I...am...a witch." That sentence left a bitter taste in her mouth. She did not want him to find out - not like this. He didn't deserve to see her use her abilities in such cruel ways. "I used...m...m...magic to...t-track you. I f...elt some...th...thing was...wrong. Made me...scared. I won't...let them....h...hurt...you."

@sinndbleds asked: "Run. I’ll hold them back.”

Flower-Based Prompts. ||| Siobhan McDougal

Arms pinned to his sides and the instruction to be shaved overheard; it was the last thing that John remembered clearly. All else a blur of events and curses, the pains to his body showed that more had happened than what the mind chose to recall. Visions of that damn prisoner camp - a language that he hardly knew, the scent of death buried deeply into both his bones and the air, the agony that never ended - of the enemy that never gave him peace. One foe traded for another, first blood had been drawn but not by John. Never by he, the little town of Hope welcomed to the sight of a man gone crazy, wet hair, wet eyes, his chest and heart so tortured. Chased by cops, dressed in their uniforms with their guns aimed, prepared to kill. Ordered by Teasle, the utmost authority and literal god, to see justice be delivered. Would do whatever it took; sirens and horns blaring, they followed John down the road that held no signs, into the woods and beyond the point of proper society. A pursuit that involved both car and motorcycle, until rocky cliff edge deterred the hunt, forced John to abandon his means of escape and propelled Teasle over the path.

A bed of broken tree branches and boulders to meet him, Will slowly crawled out of the wreck but didn't cease. Merely continued on, traced the way that John had gone, slipped and slid. John desperate to get away, once he knew that Teasle hadn't been truly hurt, his hands grabbing and his feet kicking the ground below, beyond scared. John hadn't meant for any trouble. Just wanted something to eat as he passed through, the chance to grieve alone for the loss of his friend Delmer, the opportunity to call Blaise and Siobhan. Siblings who had gained his trust, were welcomed fully into his small circle of companions, it seemed like only yesterday when they had first met. A kindness that John hadn't expected to grow as it did, the bond between the three of them bloomed despite the shortness of interaction. A few wonderful days spent together, over the course of weeks, what thereafter became years, the promise to remain in constant contact was made and followed. A phone call, letters and pictures, John's warm affections; only they and his parents were so lucky. Unable to settle but honored to have had their loyalty anyway, John never able to forget either of them, didn't want to. Would always be there for them - at the top of the range, between mountains and forest, the vow was in delicate balance. Blaise and Siobhan never to hear from their quiet friend again.

A threat shouted into the darkened woods, Teasle's voice a thunderous echo, panic slithered down John's spine, a sweat gathered across his whole body. An unspeakable horror, the reality that would become true if John didn't ready himself, panted breath knocked out of his lungs once he stumbled onto her. Red hair, fair skin, the sweetest smile. Appeared like an angel to save him, a sinner who carried so many sins, face contorted in both torment and shock. It seemed a dream.

"Siobhan?"

Frightened, startled by the blast of a shotgun shot, John whimpered but stopped not to take hold of her, ignored Siobhan's directive. Grabbed her hand, bolted deeper into the bushes and weeds, ran as fast as he could. Manhandled and abused already, John dared not to wait and see what would happen. Wanted to know how she found him, but more concerned with finding shelter, Teasle and his men would do worst to Siobhan. Use what they did against John onto her, ruthless and merciless in all the ways that hadn't been allowed. Were stopped before they could actually start, John's fists to their faces, his knees to their stomachs and groins. John terrified to think of what they would do to her - a protector of their enemy and a determined outsider - he ran until he found cover behind a great oak, his back leaned against the bark and his hands on Siobhan's shoulders. The first time; he'd never done such before, was always too careful to, too worried and somewhat nervous. He'd never want to hurt her.

"How... How did you find me? How did you know where I was?" John asked, his voice strained, two tears coursed down his cheeks. "You have to get out of here, Siobhan. You gotta go! They'll kill you."

[sinndbleds]

Blaise and Siobhan's expressions would light up like bright lights on a Christmas tree. Hearing someone grow up in a barn environment was as if they had just heard music for the first time. They grew up in a barn; one horse, a few cows and some chickens, along with some crops. It was not much, but it was livable and were able to put food on the table, including being able to financially support the large family with some earnings they had made from selling some goods from their livestock. However, John grew up in a ranch, but still - Blaise had respect for him. He knew how to care for animals, especially horses, which were not the easiest animal to raise.

Blaise was about to speak in response, until he notice Hamish and Jack's ears twitch, and he could see some concern form in those tiny red eyes. Oh, feck. Something's wrong. That two-headed rabbit could feel the anxieties blooming inside of John, even with the way he had pet them had changed. They would would stand up on their hind legs as their arms would stretch upward on John as their heads would rest on him, their eyes stared directly into his as their tag wagged. Their paws would then gently pat on him, as if they were mimicking of a cat making biscuits. They were not a therapy animal, but they did not enjoy seeing someone be upset. And then, Blaise and Siobhan both felt a shift change in the dinning room, it was then they heard the painful confession their new companion had made.

....Oh feck.

The whole apartment suite was silent. Blaise's eyes were on the ground, taking in every word that came out John's mouth. That explains alot, Blaise thought, thinking upon his first interaction with John - how he grabbed his arm, and Blaise understood he was having a PTSD moment. But now knowing that he was in the military and served, it made more sense. The mention of war hit close to home for Blaise and Siobhan - there were wars in Scotland in the 1500s, however it was more so between their intense relationship with England. The two countries' relationship was never good for centuries, but it seemed it became far worst in that period. And the deadliest war Scotland and England had was the battle of Flodden. Sadly, there would be more wars to come afterwards. It had left Scotland in shock, and thinking about it - that shock remained in Blaise's mind.

There was no hatred nor belittlement in their hearts, only compassion and respect. There was some confusion on Siobhan's features, she knew very little of the Vietnam war - for she had only been brought back to life just a few months before it had ended. Unlike for Blaise, he was brought back a few years before it started, and was very aware of the Vietnam war, including the backlash that was received after it ended. More so on the men who risked their lives.

Blaise had now slouched on his seat, a hand covered his eyes. He felt like an idiot. How dumb of him for not realizing that John was in the military; seeing those badges on his jacket, and that dog tag. What an idiot! He took a glance to John, noticing that he was not making any eye contact to either him or his sister. Shit, he looks sad. Now, he felt even worst - making him talk about something personal that he probably didn't even want to --

"I...I...am sorry...f...or what...you...w...went th...ough,John," Siobhan's genuine words pulled Blaise out of his thoughts. That confused expression was replaced with a smile. The sweetest smile she had carried in years. She now understood that look John had given her, he endured traumas - not like her's, but surely they were horrific. The respect she had for him grew large in heart. Sweet woman, she always found a way to bring some light to a sad moment.

"Y-Yeah, I should...say something," Blaise would sit up and cleared his throat, running a hand through his curly locks as his eyes moved back to John. "Look, I'm really sorry for being an idiot here - not seeing that you were in the army, and just being overall disrespectful. So...I'm sorry." He now carried a shy expression, his attention moved on to Siobhan, who was shaking her head lightly in disapproval. "Oh, piss off!" He sneered, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of his beer. "Y'know, those that you say don't like seeing those dog tags - they're nothin' but dumb bastards...and bitches. That's it. And I would tell them - in a nice, polite way - feck off."

Hearing John's question on them, brought Siobhan to grin. "Close!" She would pipe up, standing up and went to the kitchen to get some more beers; tucking two under her arm and held the other in her hand - returning back to set them carefully on the table before going back to her seat. "Thanks," Blaise mumbled as he opened a new bottle, taking a quick sip. Must've been a hell of a journey to come all the way from over there to here. Oh, buddy, you have no idea.

"But yeah, you're kinda close. We're from Scotland - well, our father immigrated to Scotland from Ireland...so, guess that makes us half-Irish. Anyways, born and raised, next to our parents there was five of us. Two brothers and three sisters. Me the second youngest and Siobhan's the baby..." Nervously, he trailed a glance over to Siobhan, lips pressed thinly. Blaise was a terrible liar, he wanted to tell John the truth - what he is - what Siobhan was, but he was afraid.

They were all once ordinary people - just trying to survive, but it seemed someone was not happy - Aileen. She convinced them all to trust this friend of hers who could give them an opportunity to a better life. They took it, and while they loved it - that trust turned into deadly consequences. Now, it was just him and Siobhan. Everyone is gone. Little does he know that Hughanna and Finlay are alive, and doing well. Blaise misses them, while he loves Siobhan - he misses having that family dynamic. But he swears they're all good people who made a terrible mistake. He would swear on his late parents' graves.

Awkwardly he cleared his throat, smiling weakly. "Uh, I ended up meeting someone one time...back home. He was an American - just on vacation, and uh, we hit it off in an instant - " There was a brief spark in those red eyes, his expression softened. Francis. Sweet memories of him flooded his mind. He missed him dearly. "He convinced me to immigrate to the states here, and we were living happily together. Until he passed away. And uh, Siobhan had finished school by then, so I asked if she could live with me." Yeah, this is all complete bullshit.

A motel room with its wallpaper pealing off and its carpet ripped at the corners; that was the place that John had called home in recent. Cheap in price, the last room available on the whole property, three doors down from the custodian closet. Better than sleeping outside, victim to the ever changing weather, John couldn't stand another moment in the wilderness. Desired an actual bed to rest upon, even with sheets so thin and pillows more like linen-wrapped bricks. Stiff against the back of his head, bound to cut into his skull, the offer by both Blaise and Siobhan was nearly refused. Didn't want to take more of their kindness, already had they given him so much. About to be dismissed - their generosity difficult to ignore, how earnest they sounded, the hardest of yanks against the strings of his heart. A godsend that certainly wouldn't happen twice, the biggest stroke of luck to befall him, John conceded. Accepted both the beer and a cookie, his mouth practically watering for each, his lips lifted into a closed smile, his soft expression of gratitude. A real and true bedroom for the night - an absolute dream, yearned for as a bottle was sipped from, a cookie was nibbled into.

Hamish and Jack nestled upon his lap, the little black rabbit had reappeared faster than John could try to blink. From out of thin air, sprinted into the room at the sound of a container being opened, patiently waited for its turn and treat. Munching and chewing, there was a boyish happiness bloomed within John at the sight. A fuzzy bundle of fur and ears cozy on his thighs, doubled, unafraid of him and relaxed. The last bits of cookie scarfed down, crumbs wiped onto faded jeans, John took the chance to embrace the animal fully. Ran his fingers from the top of both heads, one at a time, to their backs, rubbed the spine and caressed. Spoiled Hamish and Jack with his touch; felt as his own stresses melted away, the repetition an odd sort of solace. Scarred hands cured by a simple joy, a gentle affection that left either better than how they started. John couldn't keep from the indulgence. Found himself completely overwhelmed by it, his voice delicate as it whispered and asked praises, what had once been done for the horses raised on Rambo Ranch. Never bound to answer him, though John wished sometimes that they could, they proved to be good listeners, always attentive. Hamish and Jack were no different, proper gentlemen and very considerate of their newest houseguest, of whom petted and brushed ebony fur almost mindlessly.

The hand not occupied and holding a beer once more brought toward his lips, John took a second sip. Savored the bubbles, the sweet and malty taste, raised his bottle in toast. Celebrated the cause of newfound friendship, dared to chuckle at the innocence that sat around the table. It was a memory that he wouldn't soon forget. A community built over the span of minutes, not days nor years, an instant connection that made the hurts go away for a while. All the pain that had been locked inside since returning home, since leaving home and not looking back. Blaise's questions proposed on the tide of the shared good feelings, not meant in ridicule but in genuine curiosity, the shift in his posture allowing John the chance to speak. Center stage set for himself; all attention on him, his throat become a bit dry, soothed by the swing of another taste of beer. A pleasant burn to the back of his throat, a light cough, the fingers that rubbed Hamish and Jack's hindquarters paused but only for a moment. Thereafter continued, once John found his nerve, the bitter pill that was his life story.

"Bowie. Bowie, Arizona." John said somewhat timidly, the first time that he had ever told another in weeks, months. None else had cared to ask him.

"It's a small town in Cochise County, not found on many maps. Population's only 500 people. Both of my grandparents lived there. My mom and dad were born and raised there. Family owns a ranch there, Rambo Ranch. We breed and raise horses for farmers, cowboys, whoever needs a sturdy animal. It's not fancy like the big cities, not like Phoenix, but Bowie's a good place for people to try to make a living, to raise a family. It's all I've ever known, to be honest."

Eyes moved downward to the chain around his neck, the frown that took John's features was soon replaced by a flashy grin, teeth and the attempt to play at cool.

"Fort Bragg. Got drafted to the Army at 18, trained for 8 weeks, then went off to 'Nam. Army gave me my uniform and the dog tags the day I arrived at bootcamp. It's got my name, my social security number, my blood type. I haven't taken it off since. Been home over three years, still haven't taken it off. Being in the jungle, it was all a man had. Sometimes it was all that could be used to tell you apart from the guy next to you. When the war got tough, our superiors would remind us of two things: one, shoot to kill. Two, always wear your tags. Guess I never let go of the second. I don't know. They're like a part of me now. I try to keep them covered, though. Most people don't like seeing them; makes them nervous, has gotten me into more trouble than I'd like to admit."

Final drops from his bottle swallowed down, the confession was awkward to make, an onerous recognition. Emptied glass placed on the dinner table's surface, John used both hands, then, to massage Hamish and Jack, a bit more worried and self-conscious than he had been before. Never known to have been so open, so full of feeling, especially to friends just made, a little uncomfortable. Unable to look Blaise or Siobhan in the eye, bothered over what they might think, ashamed that they would possible regard him as weak. So stuck in the past and too powerless; a man who couldn't defeat the demons inside, who had left Vietnam but traveled still with the enemy, his torturers and abusers. A broken, sorry man who, in the end, didn't deserve their compassion. Part of John awaited for the change in their opinion of him.

Gaze locked still on Hamish and Jack, how their fur moved along John's fingers, twirled around and swooped below, how their muscles turned to jelly at his gentle rub, John asked his own questions, more than ready to want to pivot the conversation. Ever so, he wanted to learn more, to truly understand the brother and sister who welcomed him.

"You aren't from the States, are you?" John began, directed to both Blaise and Siobhan. "Your accents. What are they? English? Irish? Where are you two from? Must've been a hell of a journey to come all the way from over there to here."

[sinndbleds]

The McDougal siblings can sense one another’s presence on someone - only if that person had made contact with either of them. Example: If your muse goes on a coffee date with Hughanna, and decided not to see her again. And if that muse walks past either Finlay or Aileen - they will feel Hughanna’s presence on them. If your muse has a good connection with them (ex: friends or lovers) that presence would be stronger. The only one that cannot feel the presences is Blaise, due to him being a vampire. The only time he was able to feel a presence was when he felt Siobhan’s candle.

[sinndbleds]

@epaego | cont. (w/Blaise)

Jesus fucking christ! Blaise pinched his nose bridge, releasing a long, slow exhale. He was trying to be the bigger person here; he accidentally bump against him as he walked past, and this guy acted like he punched him at random. Blaise did his best to act cool, however his temper finally caved in. 'You know what? Feck off!' The words came out like a snake's venom after a bite. And he did feel bad - sort of, but this guy was making the situation worse.

"An ilk?" His brows rose and a hand on his chest, snickering. "That's the best you can come up with after someone told you where to go? Damn."

[sinndbleds]

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑-𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃  𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒  …  (  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬  )  set  the  scene  with  these modern &  evocative  prompts  inspired  by  florals  &  their  hidden  meanings. themes:  city living, devotion,  sacrifice,  healing  &  protection.   

⁽   *   ⁾    𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒  𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊   →   sentence  starters

“I  will  always  find  you,  no  matter  how  lost  you  feel.”

“Let  me  take  your  pain—if  I  could  bear  it  for  you,  I  would.”

“You  don’t  have  to  stand  alone—I’ll  always  be  here  to  catch  you.”

“Your  scars  do  not  make  you  less  worthy  of  love.”

“Rest  now.  I’ll  be  here  when  you  wake.”

“I  will  stand  between  you  and  the  storm.”

“Tell  me  your  story—I  want  to  know  every  part  of  you.”

“Run.  I’ll  hold  them  back.”

“Let  me  hold  you  until  the  nightmares  fade.”

"If  they  want  you,  they’ll  have  to  go  through  me  first.”

“I  will  always  be  your  light,  even  in  the  darkest  moments.”

“Come  back  to  me.  I’ll  wait  as  long  as  it  takes.”

“I  won’t  let  them  take  you—I’d  give  anything  to  keep  you  safe.”

⁽   *   ⁾    𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒  𝐒𝐄𝐄   →   scene  prompts

LAVENDER  →  A  small,  cozy  apartment  in  the  heart  of  a  busy  city.

CHERRY  BLOSSOM  →  A  rooftop  bar  with  twinkling  fairy  lights.

RED  ROSE  →  A  luxury  penthouse  suite.

SUNFLOWER  →  A  sunflower  farm  just  outside  of  town.

RUE  →  A  quiet,  almost  abandoned  street  in  the  heart  of  the  city.

FORGET-ME-NOT  →  A  run-down  but  charming  vintage  record  store  tucked  between  newer  shops

BLACK  VELVET  PETUNIA  →  A  chic,  underground  jazz  club  in  a  city’s  artsy  district.

MARIGOLD  →  A  farmers’  market  on  a  busy  weekend  morning.

MOONFLOWER  →  A  secluded,  trendy  rooftop  lounge  overlooking  a  sprawling  cityscape  at  night.

POPPY  →  An  abandoned  warehouse  on  the  outskirts  of  town.

MANDRAKE  →  A  small,  independent  cafe  nestled  on  a  quiet  street.

LILY  →  A  serene,  minimalist  art  gallery  with  bright  white  walls.

CARNATION  →  A  high-end  florist  shop  with  glass  vases  of  colorful  blooms.

PEONY  →  A  luxury  spa  retreat  by  the  beach.

ORCHID  →  A  rooftop  garden  in  a  sleek  modern  building.

DAFFODIL  →  A  trendy  brunch  spot  by  the  lake.

TULIP  →  A  chic  urban  loft  filled  with  large  windows  and  tulip  arrangements.

CAMELLIA  →  A  sleek  art  deco  hotel  lobby.

JASMINE  →  A  night-lit  garden  terrace  attached  to  a  modern  apartment.

SNAPDRAGON  →  A  secret  garden  tucked  behind  an  old  café  in  the  city.

LOTUS  →  A  chic  yoga  studio  with  floor-to-ceiling  windows  overlooking  a  busy street.

AZALEA  →  A  late-night  food  truck  park.