#“EMELIA GET YOUR FUCKING CREATURE AWAY FROM ME”

[lovelywingsart]

I got another new bab from NaldThal on toyhouse and I love him SO MUCH

His name is Flick

He's my cracked out little gremlin child with rabid chihuahua energy and I absolutely adore him uwu

//Thal makes amazing designs and usually I try not to horde them all (also partially due to money-), but I genuinely could not go without him.

He's so dumb.

I don't think he'll be fully be one of my Resident Evil OCs, but you can bet your ass I'm eventually drawing him with Emelia and Karl.

I can tell you right now that he freaks Karl out and it's great.//

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of TAMORA. Admin Rosey: Trinity is one of the characters that I had the most fun writing -- she very much evolved from my initial concept with her and has grown into this very independent entity that needs someone just as strong as she is to portray her. Writing her isn’t an easy task, nor is capturing the nuances of her character while maintaining a circumspect view of who she has the potential to become. Julie, I honestly don’t know how, but you managed to do all that and more. Trinity is very much welcome to step on all of Verona’s neck. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Julie

Age | 19

Preferred Pronouns | She/her/hers

Activity Level | 6/10, I think, with replies coming every other day - we can only hope.

Timezone | MST

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino + Loretta

In Character

Character | Tamora / Trinity Zakarian

What drew you to this character? | Am I allowed to say everything? From her past, her present, to her potential future, I think everything about Trinity just absolutely fascinates me. The deliberate choices she has to make in her every day life just to walk among other people and be perceived as what she wants them to see is so interesting. It’s not necessarily just a woman performing for a nonexistent audience repeatedly because she feels she has to. It’s more of someone who could be perceived as almost otherworldly performing for an audience that is watching her, at all times. Trinity pulls the strings to her own marionette and is fully aware of that.

There’s always some sort of purpose behind what she does: she smiles half an inch wider because she knows that people will find the way it tugs at the line of her face more familiar. She stands with her spine rimrod straight because that’s what comforted her mother most when she looked at Trinity like she was some sort of animal in her own home. She stabs her wife thirteen times in the chest because she knows it will allow for a shallow mockery of the last few moments she had with her son. Verona is a city full of Gods, people worth revering, and Trinity chooses not to worship them time and time again. She has no feelings of reverence towards Cosimo, or Damiano, or even Fortinbras, even if he’s the one who originally brought her here, and if she ever were to feel that way, she’d choose to stamp them out under her heel.

There’s also the matter of this concept of warmth and humanity that Trinity feels is fully out of reach for her. She’s tried time and time again to connect in the way other people can and just can’t; she got a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, for some time. Maybe she held it in her hands for a little while before dropping it when she gave birth to her son. What happened to Alyosha is tragic, without a doubt, and it hurts my heart just to think about it. I think Trinity’s played those last few moments over and over in her head to see if she can pin down the exact moment she went from a woman to a corpse all over again. I think it’s interesting that Trinity knows wires have crossed at some point which shouldn’t have been crossed, and something that’s not supposed to be firing is sparking anyways. She’s sought out human connection over and over, and it seems to slip between her fingers every time. I’d love to explore that more thoroughly.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | 

LET THIS WASP NOT OUTLIVE, US BOTH TO STING: Trinity's good at hiding; that much is obvious. She can mask even the ugliest of emotions with relative ease; making people think she's something she's not isn't a difficult feat. In Titus Andronicus, Queen Tamora bides her time by marrying Saturninus to save her own skin and get revenge. In sort of the same vein, I can see Tamora either going undercover in the Capulets somehow or forming a relationship of some kind with one of them to provide leverage over the Capulets for the Montagues. She's only just re-arrived in Verona, but like her bio says, her roots already run deep into the soil by the time February’s arrived. She's got nothing to lose and plenty to gain; donning a veil of warmth and affection towards a Capulet for whatever they'll give her in return could go far. And if she ends up reaching into their chest to claim their heart for her own, all the better: she craves warmth like roses crave the sun in the heat of summer.

TITUS, I AM INCORPORATE IN ROME, A ROMAN NOW ADOPTED HAPPILY: Faron brought Trinity to Verona with a purpose, and that purpose in my mind was likely to use her actions to vault himself to a position of power. But Faron is dead, and any motivations for his relationship with Trinity are buried with him. She can't speak with the dead, as much as she wishes she could some nights, if only to hear her son's voice. She has no skill in divining the future. This really depends on the direction of the game and what the other players on the table, but in the hands of Gertrude, Antony, Laertes, or even Romeo, I feel she has the potential to help turn the tides for the Montagues in the same way she did for Faron. There’s no love lost between Fortinbras and Tamora—give her the opportunity to claim what she wishes, and she’ll bark for someone as much as she’ll bite.

THRICE NOBLE TITUS, SPARE MY FIRST BORN SON: This one is a little far out there, so please bear the fuck with me. Trinity, if she were to ever discover just what Vivianne did to her own son (who, keep in mind, when abandoned was the same age as Alyosha when he died), would set her sights on Vivianne and wouldn't stop until she felt satisfied. Whether that means Vivianne's death, or throwing a big enough wrench into her plans that she falters in the face of Cosimo, Trinity's willing to take whatever opportunities are presented to her. This sort of goes in-hand with wanting to explore just how deeply Alyosha's death has impacted her; I don't think Trinity's ever looked it head-on in the mirror, and confronting Vivianne might finally give her the chance to see in herself what everyone else has over the course of the last year and a half.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Let her reunite with the one person she truly cared about :)

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

TW FOR MURDER

The claiming of Hotel Emelia is a droll affair, in much the same way she’d expected it to be. It’s also a quick one: from the time she and Ronan are approaching the front desk to waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the top floor and look for those who might remain, it takes twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour. The elevator lets out a soft ding to indicate it’s reached its final destination.

There are only two guests on this floor, but it doesn’t stop Trinity from reveling in the way the attendant shakes as she unlocks each and every door with the master key. They all creak open, slowly, to reveal nothing but a dark room and some neatly-made beds. Ronan’s shaking with barely-restrained excitement and impatience by the time they reach the end of the hall.

“You want to get done, Richard. You have plan, after this, hm? Usually you go slow.” she asks, as the woman with SOFIA on her name-tag trembles so much she nearly drops the key. Trinity watches as Ronan presses the end of his M22 closer to her spine, harshly enough to make her jump.

“I’ve got some house calls to make, Tamora,” he tells her, like that explains why he’s rushing through this with a near primordial if not sadistic focus. It doesn’t matter. He’s a bizarre specimen, even among the Montagues, same as she -- it’s why they’re the perfect pair for this sort of task. The door clicks open. This room is not empty like the others; the lamp on the desk is on, and the shower is running in the bathroom. 

She looks over her shoulder: “I’ll take it. You can cut chaff from rest of wheat. Be good.” When she shoots him a pointed look, he shrugs, but chooses not to say a word. Wise of him.

She enters the room, closes the door behind her. It makes a sound close to a whisper when it thuds shut, and it’s only when Trinity can hear Ronan limping away with the clerk’s tapping footsteps just ahead that she proceeds. With one hand she reaches for her knife, and the other for the bathroom handle. It opens, she’s pleased to discover. Steam rushes past her as she encroaches further.

Whoever it is in the shower, they’ve got their back turned towards the spray, a hand running through their hair. She reaches out, black painted nails grasping the shower curtain -- and smiles in outright delight when the man behind it screams loudly enough to be heard for miles.

The first time she’d ended someone’s life with a knife and nothing more, Trinity’d been shocked to discover just how easy it was. There had been no resistance. By now, it’s almost mundane, like chopping vegetables for a stew. One after the other, right into the pot.

Rivulets of red run down her arms, stain the front of her vest, and all the man does is watch in mixed terror and confusion. It’s close to what she wants, but not quite enough. She wants fear. Terror. Downright horror. Oftentimes when an individual is stabbed it feels like being punched, before the sympathetic nervous system starts doing its proper work. There are maybe a blissful thirty seconds of confounded gasping, pleading, and scrabbling to pull her hands away from him before he drops like a sack of bricks. This nameless creature, whoever he is, whatever he did? He dies gasping on the floor of the too-small shower. His blood is still warm, at first. but it’s soon cooled by the running shower. It’s as disheartening a realization when she sees the shower has aided in removing most of it from her hands, too.

She watches the rest run down the drain, and then steps out and leaves him there. Any mark of what she’s done is, for the most part, washed clean before it had the chance to stain. She gives herself a passing glance in the mirror. Raises one corner of the mouth, then the other, and smiles at herself with all her teeth. It’s like looking at a stranger and her closest friend all at once, her eyes lit up like the stars. Smile for the cameras.

Ronan is waiting for her in the hall, the clerk next to him, tapping out a text to Damiano - she can only assume. If she’s right, it will read something like food is waiting on your desk. Some foolish, stupid little signal.

She nods at Sofia, clearing her throat. Ronan glances up, turns the phone off, slips it into his pocket. “What are we doing with her?”

“Her?” He’s already looking away. Wonderful.

When Trinity steps closer, the young woman shakes like a leaf. It worsens when she raises her hand and smears whatever remains of the man’s blood over her mouth — it ruins whatever lip gloss Sofia's chosen to wear for her shift that night, without a doubt. For a moment, Trinity wonders if she’s going to vomit. She smiles, and reaches back to wind her her fingers through Sofia’s blond hair. It’s dirty-gold in hue. She’s sure it shines under the sun, but in the overhead lighting of the Emelia, it looks dull. Flat.

Sacha’s had been so light it’d been close to silver. Trinity can remember the way her wife had purred whenever she’d played with it, even when it was something as simple as fingertips ghosting over her scalp. She presses her mouth into a thin line before speaking with some resignation. “You did very good, solnyshko.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Sofia whispers, staring at Trinity with eyes wide. Like a doe. Not a doe. A fawn might be better.

“I do,” Trinity replies, and the woman lets out a pitiful wail in response.

“You don’t have to do this, please, I have a daughter, my husband, a family, I only just got hired, I won’t tell a soul-” she’s quivering with it, and when she collapses to the floor and grabs at Trinity’s legs to plead, her hands cold and clammy, Tamora goes with her. There they sit, on their knees together: Sofia, sobbing, mouth wide open in resigned terror. Trinity, watching, waiting, feeling the thundering rhythm of her pulse as it quickens. So close to warmth. Just a few seconds away.

So did I, Trinity thinks. “You are... loose end,” she murmurs instead. The way she slits Sofia’s throat is precise. It’s over before the woman can cry out. Sofia’s weight becomes exponentially heavier, as she collapses to the side, with red running deep across her throat and staining the lavish green floors. Trinity ends up yanking out a clump of hair from her scalp as she goes.

She’s still plucking the strands from beneath her fingernails when they re-enter the elevator at the end of the hall, knowing the bodies will be swept away before anyone can so much as bat an eye. No one will wonder where the three on the top floor of Hotel Emelia went; if anyone asks, they’ll be quickly silenced.

 Ronan presses the button to take them back to the lobby, tapping his better foot in time with a silent beat. She smiles at him in thanks.

“You’ve got something on your teeth,” he says, brow furrowed.

She grins wider: A quarter of a centimeter, canines bared, swipes at the corner of her mouth with her pinky finger. Lipstick comes away, smeared dark against her skin. The elevator dings. “I know.”

Extras: 

Some thoughts:

The Zakarian family has their fingers in every pie imaginable, thanks to the reputation that protects them, but it was Sacha, Trinity’s wife, that had the closest affiliation with mob business in St. Petersburg. Over the fifteen year period of their marriage (they married young, and in-love, when Trinity was only twenty-two), Trinity danced with the best and worst of them: she knows plenty of members in the Russian mob, and considers them to be her closest allies, rather than the Montagues. When Sacha and Alyosha were so tragically killed, it was the Russian mob that paid for the funeral, with the Zakarians throwing some money at the problem to stem suspicion. She’s even somewhat familiar with Boris, even if he’s not from St. Petersburg.

Shortly before Faron’s death, on the fifth of November, she departed from Verona to visit Alyosha’s grave for the anniversary of his death. She didn’t return to Verona until the twenty-second, and missed Faron’s funeral. She still commit to the tradition of wearing dark colors for forty days and forty nights, however, and visits his grave semi-frequently. She’s not even sure why: she had no care for the man, and in the end, believes he faltered in his goals due to avarice and selfishness.

Her first language is Armenian, her second is Russian, her third English, and her fourth is Italian. She’s got a peculiar accent, but for the most part, she’s used to speaking Russian. Adjusting to Italian in Verona has been strange, although she’s not necessarily a woman of few words.

She’s been relatively-hands off when it comes to business dealings in the public eye since the death of her family. Her brother, Artur, has stepped up to the plate to ensure things are running smoothly. She trusts him enough not to make a mess of it, but I’m thinking maybe she sets up camp somehow in Hotel Emelia to ensure it stays in the hands of the Montagues.

I’ve got a playlist, and a pinboard.

[lovelywingsart]

Pretty Lies

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

This one was... interesting to write. I had an idea and went with it, so I'm not sure how it'll turn out?? Also an irl friend fucking hates me for it since he read it and it tortured him, so ENJOY HAHAHAHAAAA

**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**

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*Warning?: Hella angst, mentions of blood/slaughter, mention of/somewhat active kidnapping, arguments

Summary: Emelia had never experienced a village 'purge' before, until now. A surprising discovery, followed by a very, VERY unwelcome guest and a painful lie.

The small village was eerily silent. The Lycan attack had done a number, rendering the buildings destroyed and previously untouched snow stained with blood. Footsteps disrupted the remainder of the snow as Emelia and Heisenberg made their way through the silent carnage, both of their heads on a swivel as their breath came out in plumes of vapor. A thick, hooded fabric rested over Emelias shoulders partially keeping her warm, and an old eyepatch covered the left side of her face. She hadn't worn it in quite some time, but the temperature change was too severe not to. She still shivered lightly, but any irritation from the cold was replaced by sheer surprise and... even the slightest amount of horror.

"Bloody hell..." she muttered, pausing her movements to look at a particularly mangled corpse before shivering again and tugging the fabric to pull the hood more over her head. The man behind her only kept moving, his eyes drifting over the mess nonchalantly as he puffed at the cigar between his lips.

"You get used to it." He said quietly. "Purges aren't often. Its a fear tactic if the villagers get too... 'rowdy' and 'non-believing'. Or, that's what she wants them to think."

"MIRANDA does this??" She asked, a hint of disgust in her voice. He shrugged.

"Nothing we can control. Spread the fear and gather blood for the Cadou, that's what we do."

Emelia kept her eye on him as he walked past her, the massive hammer over his shoulder gathering the white substance as snow flurries fell around them. He clearly wasn't exactly happy... Sure, the man loved his destruction and bloodshed, but only when done by himself and himself alone. Or maybe her if she was lucky or if necessary, or even for simple amusement. But she remained silent, jogging slightly to meet him again. Even with him... Even working on Soldats, she had never seen this much blood. Even fighting the zombified creatures in the factory and Lycans herself didn't prove to be this bad. She didn't know how to feel about it... She was used to blood, of course. But only with a single body or two at once... Not an entire village.

She stuck close to him, almost bumping his shoulder as they continued to walk, eventually averting her gaze to stare at her feet. She couldn't... She couldn't look at them. Even she felt the weight of the dead villagers on her shoulders, and she had nothing to do with it. They only walked a few more steps before a sound made them both pause, their heads turning simultaneously towards a small patch of snow free from flesh and gore. Heisenberg gripped the handle of the hammer and took a step forward, only to stop as Emelia held out her hand.

"Wait..." she nearly whispered, training her eye on a small moving figure. He curled his lip.

"Do you know what she'll do to you if it's not dead?" He growled, nodding to the figure. She shook her head and focused, only for her breath to catch in her throat as she realized what it was.

A child.

"Oh my god..." she said quietly, her hand lowering.

"Emelia-"

She took off before he could say anything else, working to a light jog in the snow before she reached the now cowering child. The boy seemed to have rags for clothing, the fabrics stained and torn from what she could only assume came from the attack. He nearly stumbled back as she approached, holding up her hands as if to show she meant no harm.

"Hey..." she said quietly, pausing as the child whimpered. Near frozen tears stained the boys cheeks as he looked up at her in pure fear. She frowned, crouching onto one knee. "I won't hurt you..." she continued. "Where are you from...?"

The boy didn't answer, only backing away once another shadow appeared next to her. She glanced over to see Heisenberg give a disapproving scowl.

"We have to go." He said simply. Emelia simply shook her head, looking back to the child.

"Was this your home?" She asked, relaxing somewhat as the boy finally nodded.

"Monsters came..." the boy whimpered, his shaky hand reaching up to rub at his face. "Mommy and daddy are gone..."

"Gone?"

He meant 'dead'.

Another nod from the boy. Emelia frowned for a moment. She didn't think there was a survivor from this... Why did the Lycans leave him? Did they even know he was here? A groan from behind her alerted her to the metal man's shift in posture.

"Emelia, we NEED to go." He growled, now sounding somewhat impatient. "Just leave him and-"

"No. I'm not leaving him." She snapped suddenly, glaring back at him before giving a huff. She then looked back at the child. She offered a light smile and held out her hand. "We can help you find them."

"'We'??" Heisenberg said, his lip curling into the slightest bit of a snarl. "What are you-"

"Shut up, you twit!!" She growled again, watching the man roll his eyes and shake his head.

While still clearly afraid, the boy stood and slowly approached her.

"Can you find them...?" He asked, almost letting out a new choked sob. Emelia nodded.

"Yes. And of we can't, we have somewhere warm to get you out of the cold. Does that sound alright with you?"

She gave a warm smile, and the boy nodded before suddenly throwing his arms around her shoulders. She returned the hug carefully, feeling a light fluttering in her chest from her own Cadou from the sudden cold feeling. Maybe if she could help just one...

"Come on..." she said quietly, lifting the boy with ease and holding him on her hip. She covered his shoulders with her own cloak as he kept his arms around her shoulders. "Stay strong, boy. You'll be alright..."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Heisenberg finally piped up, his irritation evident as she turned to him with the boy in her arms.

"WE are going home." She said matter-of-factly, lifting her chin. "After we... 'look' for his parents- Hold on, sweetie."

Emelia covered the boys head with the cloak and pressed her palm against his ear. The child only snuggled to her with a sniffling nod. Heisenberg rolled his eyes.

"You're JOKING." He said, gesturing around them. "They're probably dead just like everyone else here. Lycan food or taken."

"Or they could have hidden."

"These purges leave no one alive, that kid isn't an exception."

"Well obviously he is!" She huffed, watching as he neared her ever so slowly. He pointed at the boy in her arms.

"We're not taking him back. YOU'RE not taking him back." He growled. "There's enough to worry about in that goddamn factory and I'm not adding a KID to it, much less one that's supposed to be DEAD-"

"And how would you like it if it were you?!" Emelia snapped, baring her teeth at him as he physically recoiled. "If this were you, wouldn't you want a warm place after witnessing this destruction? I never said we would keep him-"

"I-... Stop- stop saying 'we'. This is not a 'we' situation, Emelia." He managed. She shifted on her feet slightly.

"Fine then. I never said I would keep him. But he is coming with."

"No, he's not-"

"Yes he is! You of all people should know how it feels to be a scared child!"

Another recoil. Another growl.

"STOP bring me into this-"

"I will not until you realize how bloody wrong you are." She nodded to the child. "He hasn't done a thing wrong. I wouldn't want to be left in the cold like this and neither would you, and you know it. Hell, I don't even want to be out here in the first place. But if I can help-"

"He's going to cause trouble-"

"He's a CHILD!"

Heisenberg nearly threw his hands up in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose after removing the his glasses. She HAD to be fighting him on this. She just had to come with, and she just had to find the kid, and she just absolutely HAD to add HIM into her thought process.

And he knew why. He knew EXACTLY why. He knew why she threw him into the mix, and he hated to admit that she was at least somewhat right.

He hated this too.

"Emmy, PLEASE-" he started, rubbing his temple.

God damn her... She kept her hard glare at him as he looked off to the side. Why was he ACTUALLY conflicted about this?? It was just a kid... A village kid. He had never cared much about the villagers before. There was no reason to. They were simply a few of many pawns in Miranda's clutches, slaughtered and taken like livestock every however many years, because that's all they were to her. So why was the woman in front of him making him question it-

"God damn it..." he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back slightly. One look at her almost proved she had at least somewhat of a maternal instinct, and it admittedly tore him up just a little. Only in a few seconds did she make a much better mother than-

"He is coming with me, Karl. I don't care what you say." She replied finally, glancing at the boy for a moment with a genuine sadness. "I can't leave a child out here alone... He at least deserves a chance for living through this..."

"You are absolutely right." A sudden voice came from behind them. Emelia froze, absolute fear turning her veins ice cold as she watched Heisenbergs eyes widen behind his glasses.

No.

Oh NO.

She turned slowly, terrified, only to meet the winged figure of Mother Miranda mere feet behind her, the black and gold coloration of her clothing standing out heavily against the snow. The woman's face had been covered in a metallic veil as she reached out a hand towards Emelia and the child.

"... M-... Miranda..." she nearly whispered. The tall woman chuckled, but not out of amusement. Emelia could vaguely see her eyes from behind the metal piece over her face- they were cold and emotionless, just how she remembered them. She felt more fluttering from her Cadou as her heart sped up, fighting back the parasites automatic response to mutate. She almost flinched as she spoke.

"Please, leave the child with me. I can guarantee warmth and safety far better than anyone..." Miranda's eyes flicked between her and the man behind her, who she could nearly physically feel stiffen. "Isn't that right, Heisenberg?"

"... Yes, Mother Miranda." The man replied quietly. Emelia jumped, turning back to see him nearly at her side. Wait, when did he get so close? More importantly, did he just AGREE??

"W-Wait..." Emelia tried, only to be silenced by a warning glance from the him. The boy shifted in her arms, his gaze settling on the robed woman in front of them. A recognition seemed to spark in the childs round eyes as he repeated the name, though Emelia held him tighter.

"I assure you he will be cared fore under my wing." Miranda spoke again, taking another step forward. Emelia attempted to take a step back, only to be stopped by Heisenberg.

"She was gonna help me find my family..." the boy finally spoke up. All three heads swiveled towards him, and Emelia felt a wave of guilt through her chest. She opened her mouth, but Miranda beat her to it.

"That is awfully... kind of her." She spoke, giving a questioning glance to Heisenberg, who froze in place. This woman was going to get them BOTH killed, he thought. Miranda continued. "Thankfully there is no need... I know where they are, young man. They are safe and sound in the mountains and worried dearly about their son... Now please, come with me. I can take you to them."

"You can...?" The child asked, his small voice hopeful. He looked at Emelia once more as if asking permission, who then forced a smile under Miranda's hard gaze. She knew she couldn't deny... She had no choice.

"Y-Yes, um... Yes, she can..." she forced the lie through her teeth, though attempting to sound as pleasant as possible. She felt a gloved hand around the back of her neck as Heisenberg prevented her from moving, while also simultaneously attempting to clam her down as he gave a gentle squeeze. He always did when her own anxieties were high, or if a certain memory or nightmare plagued her mind... And it usually worked.

But it wasn't working right now.

"Please." Miranda insisted, keeping her hand out. The boy looked at her before returning his gaze to the woman holding him.

"They're all safe...? You mean it?" He asked, earning a stiff nod.

A few moments of tense silence passed before Emelia finally put the child down with a shaky breath, crouching to settle on her knees and reaching forward to wipe any remaining tears.

"You'll be alright..." she managed quietly, forcing a calm smile as the boy nodded before looking up at Heisenberg, who had to look away from the boys gaze.

"Promise...?"

Another rush of ice cold and fluttering.

"I promise." She nearly choked out.

She stayed where she was as the boys hand was taken by Miranda, causing them both to jump. The woman leaned down just slightly, meeting her eye with that of near suspicion. Emelia froze, her own eye widening. She had never been this close... Her hair stood on end with an odd fear as Miranda seemed to examine her, that fear only increasing as the dark robed woman stood straight once more and took the child into her own arms.

"Come now, child. Your future is a bright one... You will have a family again." She said, taking a few steps back. It wasn't until she locked eyes with Heisenberg that she spoke again. "Heisenberg, learn to control your... 'workers'. I will not ask again."

"Yes, Mother Miranda..." the man ground out, though forced a 'pleasant' smile before nudging Emelias side with his leg. "Come on."

"But-" her voice was lost to her as she watched Miranda walk away, the child peering over the woman's shoulder. It wasn't until he gave the smallest wave that she felt stinging at her eye, shakily lifting a hand to wave back before the woman and the boy disappeared with a sudden flurry of feathers.

She nearly sat in the snow, her gaze on the ground itself. Why did it hurt... Why did she feel guilty? She could hear noises surrounding them, seeing dark figures in the corner of her vision. Low growls were distant to her ears, alerting her to the Lycans that slowly began to fill the village once more. They wouldn't hurt them, she knew, but it gave her a horrible anxiety she had rarely felt. It wasn't until Heisenberg nudged her again that she finally felt a white hot tear roll down her cheek, making her flinch.

"Come ON, Emelia..." he almost growled, clearly straining. She didn't move.

"... Why..." she managed. He looked at her.

"Don't start, Emmy-"

"Why couldn't you stop her?"

"You know why." He grumbled, taking a step back. She glanced up to see a Lycan nearing her, but the creature stopped once she caught it's eye.

"No. I don't." She growled suddenly, her voice wavering slightly. "You HATE her, Karl. You KNOW what she's going to do with that child, why can't you stop her??"

"If I try, she'll-"

"She'll WHAT?! WHAT WILL SHE DO?!" She yelled, standing and tuning to face him with her teeth bared. Any semblance of growling around them stopped. Heisenberg stared at her, exhaling though his nose.

"She'll kill the both of us." He said simply, frowning. "Look, Emmy, I hate the bitch. I fucking despise her. But even I'm not stupid enough to take her head-on!"

"Have you ever TRIED?!"

"And throw away everything I've worked for?!" He yelled back, though she didn't flinch. "If the kid wasn't killed by the Lycans, he would have been taken by her anyway if the cold didn't get to him first! It happens every time there's a purge, there's no stopping it!"

"And you can't try to save ONE child?!" She took a step closer, feeling her arm twitch. "You can hide ME, but you can't hide a simple bloody child?! What the hell makes me so special?? What makes YOU so special?! Why can't you save just ONE if you know how it feels-"

"BECAUSE WE HAVE CADOU!! WE'RE NOT HUMAN!!!" He roared suddenly, causing her to draw back slightly. The air was dead silent before he sighed. "Emelia, I know your memories. I know your... 'attachment' to your human life. You've shared every little bit with me, it's hard to forget." He started, setting down the hammer and taking a few steps closer. "But you can't get attached to a single human child you found when you know damn well that bitch is around every corner ready to take them like she did-..." he paused, only to shake his head. "The point is, we aren't human." He continued. "A human has no place with us. With you, with me, with anyone. The most you can do is accept it and move on until my army is strong enough, and then you can go on with as much revenge as you want. But right now, we can't do shit."

"... Have you even tried?" She managed, her voice breaking just slightly. His brows furrowed in irritation.

"No, I-"

"Then how do you know?"

More silence. His eyes widened slightly at the look she gave him. She may have been as cold as he was to the outside. She made killing almost a second living next to her mechanic work, and regularly tore the other creatures to shreds when angry without remorse. But the look she gave... It was pain. Pain and anger. It wasn't often he saw that spark, the the last time was when she told him... When she told him...

It was then that it hit him.

She had only told him a week ago.

"Emmy..." he sighed, finally moving to stand in front of her. "Look. We can't stop this right now. As much I would like to... and I REALLY want to," he shrugged, "You can't have the life you wanted. You're not human anymore, no matter how hard you try."

"But he is. He's human. And he's a CHILD." She tried, tightening the cloak around her shoulders. "I couldn't give a damn about the adults, but he... He's innocent... He doesn't deserve to be like us. Like THEM." She gestured to the Lycans, who had more or less focused on the argument.

"Yes, I know, and that makes it... difficult." He managed. He sighed as she averted her gaze, flinching as he reached for her face. "Hey. Look at me."

He managed to take ahold of her jaw, making her look at him. The anger in her eye almost made him feel... bad.

"We will keep working. The army will grow. And we WILL crush her." He assured quietly, looking around them. "That bitch WILL die, and this won't happen again..." He only paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "... Kids won't be taken anymore, and you'll have a chance."

Emelia stared at him. She didn't know if he was serious or trying to make her feel better... But she wanted to believe him either way. When Miranda was gone, none of this would happen... right? Would they all be safe? She kept her eye on him before letting out a shaky sigh, reaching up to wipe her cheek while still keeping her face pressed to his hand.

"... I hate her..." she muttered. She sniffled lightly. "I hate her for this... I..."

"I know." Heisenberg sighed. "Soon, Emmy."

She was silent for a moment.

"... Am I stupid for hoping he's alright...?" She asked, looking down as he removed his hand. He shrugged.

"Unfortunately yes." He admitted, walking back to his hammer. She looked back up at him, watching as he reached for the handle.

"Would you have said yes? To taking him?"

She watched as he froze, his fingers touching the handle. He was silent, lowering his head slightly. Would he have? The Lycans had more or less scattered among the wreckage at this point, though few remained. Emelia glanced at the one close to her as it approached slowly with a low, questioning growl, and a new thought popped in her mind- Would she meet the child again like this? Her eye shot back to Heisenberg as he suddenly grabbed the hammer and slung it over his shoulder, his body stiff with it's movements.

"Would you, Karl?" She asked again, her voice more firm. But he said nothing, starting to walk forward. Was that a yes??

"Let's go." He said simply, not even turning back to look at her. She let out a huff.

"Answer me." She nearly yelled, starting to jog after him. He only stopped as she nearly jumped in front of him. "Would you have said yes?"

He jerked back, only to to give an irritated sigh.

"Emelia, let's just go-"

"Not until you answer me."

"I don't have a reason to."

"Bullocks."

"What reason, then?!" He growled. She suddenly stepped forward, their chests nearly touching as she glared at him.

"Because I need to know you're not entirely the monster you pretend to be around her." She stated. He twitched, and she continued. "Because if you are, that means I am too. And I refuse to acknowledge myself as that much of a creature thanks to her, because that's what we've been reduced to around her."

She pointed to the Lycan that had trailed her. Heisenberg followed with his eyes, watching as the Lycan stood and backed away with a light growl once he looked at it. Hearing her compare them to these beasts almost sent a rush of anger through his chest. No, they WEREN'T beasts like them. Of course they weren't. Beasts of a different sort, maybe. But not like those. He looked back at her, the smallest bit of anger in his face from the suggestion alone. But she kept her stare.

"Would you have said 'yes'." She repeated, her tone still harsh as her lip trembled. Even she couldn't tell it if was from the cold or the threat of crying again, and she hated both options. He seemed to hesitate before shaking his head with a grumble.

"... Maybe." He mumbled, glaring at her from behind his glasses. "ONLY maybe. That's all you're getting."

She couldn't help take a deep breath, lowering her arm slowly. He said... Even though it wasn't quite what she wanted, she didn't actually expect him so say anything close. 'Maybe' wasn't 'yes'... but it also wasn't 'no'. He nodded to the side and stepped forward, and she simply followed. She watched as he walked past, almost too stunned to move.

"For the last time Emelia, let's go." He said sternly, not looking back at her. She was silent, but quickly followed.

The snow continued to fall as they walked in silence, and she shivered. It seemed to get colder by the second no matter how much closer to the factory they were... Heisenberg glanced over at her as she kept her head down.

"You really won't let that dream die, will you...?" He asked quietly, the suddenness of his voice making her jump. But she took a breath and shook her head.

"Not while I'm alive." She replied, though looked up at him with near insult as he chuckled. "What...?"

"You're an odd one..." he said simply. "You're stupid for trying to keep it alive. But I admire that."

"It's what gives me a goal to survive this." She mumbled, shrugging the cloak closer over her shoulders. "If that dream is what keeps me going through a fight with her, then so be it. If she wants to ruin families, I won't die until I have my own."

"Hm."

He gave a light hum, keeping his eyes forward. 'Family'... She wanted so desperately to fight for one. How she held on to that tiny bit of hope was strange to him. It was strong enough to nearly take an orphan child as her own almost immediately... He couldn't help but feel what he could have only assumed was pity.

"You might see him again." He mumbled, his voice the tiniest bit thoughtful. She finally glanced at him with a frown.

"That's a sick joke..." her voice was low. He shrugged, but stayed silent. She shook her head. "The next time I see him would be a Lycan sighting if her ritual doesn't work..." she muttered, hugging her arms. "Which it never has... None of it ever..."

She trailed off, feeling a lump enter her throat. Heisenberg glanced at her before sighing and reaching over, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and bringing her to his side a bit roughly. She let out a surprised grunt, nearly stumbling. She didn't have to say a word as she looked at him, feeling the warmth of him through their now somewhat wet, snow-covered clothes.

"It's cold, you shouldn't be worrying about that right now." He mumbled, the grip on his hammer tightening. "I'll put together a few things for you to destroy back home, yeah?"

She said nothing for a moment, only to pull away and walk slightly faster.

"I think I'll stay in the Foundry..." she replied quietly, not turning around as he paused his footsteps. "Or take a walk."

"... Alright then." Heisenberg muttered, returning his arm to his side.

Silence returned to them as they walked, Emelia keeping her head down while staying a few feet in front of him at all times. All she could see in her head was the boys face... The small bit of hope behind his bright eyes. The small bit of hope she had in hers, ripped away once again. Maybe if she had run with the child immediately... Maybe she could have gotten back to the factory before Miranda had arrived. Could she? Would she have been able to with Heisenberg at her heels? Would he had even let her IN to the factory with the child? Was there even the slightest possibility she could save just one whenever the next purge happened, if it happened? Or maybe... She shook her head. No, no... She couldn't let any of these thoughts plague her much longer... It would fuck with her work. With THEIR work. One wrong move and the plan would go down in flames...

She had to keep trying. To keep hope. To keep up with their plans to destroy the woman. She already knew Heisenberg planned on utilizing her and his army, and she wanted nothing but to accompany him to watch Miranda burn. And once she was dead... Maybe. Just maybe, she could finally have her dream.

She could only hope.