#'The streets were still and silent / his crunching footsteps the only sound.' FOOTFALLS

[noxtivagus]

OH I JUST REMEMBERED THE LAST TALES STORY RELEASED EARLIER... "a question of death" aaaa time to ramble in tags ><

[kenpxchi]

prey.

It’s a rainy, dismal evening. Gray clouds hang heavy up above, a funeral shroud over the rotten, festering corpse of Zaraki. Rain falls lightly, as if the sky itself is half-heartedly trying to wash away the ruin, having realized that its efforts are futile. The streets here are never dry: when rain doesn’t turn the dirt to mud, the blood of its fallen citizens does the job. There’s no rumbling thunder in the distance, no flash of lightning to bring energy and vibrance to this pit. Abandoned by the ivory lords of the Seireitei, the district has gone to the dogs, then the wolves, then the monsters.

Barely audible footfalls carry a denizen along the streets. Lean of limb and fidgeting with paranoia, he is like so many others. His only cover against the rain is the rags on his skin and the crumbling sections of roof that remain attached to the buildings. He does not bear the grumbling curse of hunger, but he does not consider this afterlife a blessing. His hunger has been traded for a near-constant terror that lurks around every corner, within every alleyway, and atop every roof. His head twitches from side to side, constantly watching, always on the lookout for monsters.

Horror grips his heart when he first hears it. The pattering of rain atop the crumbling rooftops covers up most of it, but it still remains... the sound of footsteps. The scent of blood. Something’s coming closer. Teeth grit, eyes widen, his gaze darts back and forth as he searches for the approaching predator. His hearing manages to discern the direction the footsteps are coming from, and he doesn’t stick around to look. If you look, you die. If you stop moving, you die. He’s learned the unspoken rules of Zaraki rather quickly, and it’s why he’s stayed alive this long.

He’s off like a shot, tearing through the streets, leaping through broken buildings, rushing among the urban decay as he runs and runs and runs. That’s the advantage that he has over these predators. He doesn’t feel hunger or thirst, so exhaustion is greatly lessened in his case. He’ll run and run and run until the predator drops down dead. Maybe, if he gets lucky, he’ll be able to run back to its corpse and pick something sharp and shiny off of it... He probably won’t, though. Predators don’t last long in Zaraki due to the speed of their prey. Scavengers, on the other hand, are like lightning. Clothes are stripped, valuables are stolen, and sometimes, flesh is chewed, but never in the initial scavenging frenzy.

Up a staircase, out a window, onto a half-collapsed rooftop and down into a caved-in home, he continues on, fleeing for his life. His heart beats loud in his ears, his breath coming hard, the rain pelting down harder as he half-runs, half-slides along the street. He doesn’t stop until the sun falls far below the horizon and the rain is hammering down from above in a torrent. He ducks into a house, its occupants long-dead. He calms his breathing, rests his limbs, which have finally started to ache after hours of constant running. Finally, he’s home free. He hasn’t heard the footsteps since sunset.

It’s when he looks around the room that he realizes he’s too late.

The roof has rotted and caved inwards like so many other buildings in this accursed corner of the Rukon. Standing in the center, pelted by the rain, is a boy, no older than six if he were human, but this isn’t a child. This is something wretched, a beast of blood and bone and butchery. He can tell just by the eyes. They’re feral, focused, nigh-unblinking, and staring at him. He freezes. For once in his life, the flight instinct is forgotten, and he goes rigid, his body tensing, his eyes widening, his mouth opening slowly in a silent scream.

It’s the last thing he ever does, as the boy-shaped monster leaps at him and bites down onto the man’s skull. There isn’t any time for him to wonder why he didn’t go for the neck. Bones crunch, skin splits, and grey matter tears asunder as those teeth pierce through, collapsing the front of the man’s head, as well as his face. The jelly of his eyes dribbles down into his gaping mouth, his body twitching as the last spasms of life leave his shredded brain.

The boy spits out a mouthful of bone fragments and gray chunks, decorated by slick blood and a patch of skin and hair. It’s the quickest way he knows how to kill without tearing up any of the good meat. Blood and cerebral fluid drip down the nameless boy’s chin and mingle with the rain as he begins to feast. It’s a quick and messy affair. The sound of bone crunching and flesh shredding can be heard coming from that house for about fifteen minutes. When it’s done, the boy wanders back out into the rain.

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch2

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

Chapter 2: First Blood

---Reader---

May 17th, 9:07 am

You pulled Nero aside the next morning awkwardly. Even with everything that was going on, you needed his help to fulfill a promise, and you took your promises very seriously. He gave you a questioning look as the pair of you walked out of camp, just far enough for privacy.

“Nero, I have a favor to ask,” you began uncomfortably, palms already sweating. You had no clue how he would react; he was still practically a stranger to you. Yet despite your anxiety you had to try.

“Okay, what do you need?” he replied equally uncomfortably.

“I need to call my mom, and I don’t have a signal here. Can you take me somewhere to try to reach her, or to a payphone nearby?” you ask with a cautious smile, holding up your cell phone. You didn’t even have a charger with you, so you needed to do this quickly. You’d been keeping it turned off to conserve what little battery you had left, but eventually it would die.

And I promised to call her when it was safe.

Nero chuckled, scratching the back of his neck with a small smile.

“Yeah, I can do that. One condition, though. I get to borrow your phone after you’re done to call Kyrie,” he answered at last. You held out a hand to shake on it with a smile and Nero grasped your palm firmly, his eyes glittering in excitement.

“I’ll go tell Nico, wait here,” he commented as he released your hand. He disappeared back toward the camp and you had a moment of precious solitude as you waited for him to come back. You took a deep breath, enjoying the chance to think without interruption.

This entire situation is so crazy. Mom’s going to tell me I should leave, and by all rights she won’t be wrong. But, still…

Despite your ability to see how illogical it was to stay, here you were. You couldn’t even rationalize it to yourself, let alone explain it to someone else. The pull was simply too strong to ignore, the urge to do what you could to help a powerful force as it ever had been. Until now, helping hadn’t been so risky.

This is going to be a difficult phone call.

“Alright, Y/N! Let’s go!” Nero called out as he trotted back to you. Your thoughts scattered like pollen in the wind as the two of you set off, headed toward an area that seemed less active with demonic activity. Hopefully, there was a decent signal there, but you wouldn’t know until you got there.

You ended up not going far. When you powered up your cell a mere two blocks to the south you found that you had three bars. You smiled at Nero and he politely wandered a short distance away as you dialed your mother. She answered on the first ring, her gasp of relief making you bite your lip in anxiety.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh, are you okay? Where are you, did you get out of the city?”

“Hi mom. I’m alright, calm down!”

“Where are you? I can come meet you if you need a ride!”

“That’s fine, I uh… I’m still in the city,” you replied hesitantly, bracing yourself for the coming storm.

“You WHAT?! Get out of there, what are you thinking?”

“Mom, listen to me. I found a group of people to travel with, they’re experts on this stuff, but none of them knows even basic first aid, so I’m staying to help them,” you explained. You could tell how worried she was by the numerous seconds of utter silence that ticked by as she struggled to wrap her mind around your decision.

“You can’t be serious. You’ll get yourself killed if you stay in the city!”

You sighed heavily, mentally searching for a way to make her understand. Yet there was nothing, no clever turn of phrase that would make your mother stop worrying about your safety as you stayed in a city under siege by a mysterious force. You hated making her worry, hated causing her stress. Your mother had been through enough and she deserved any shred of peace you could offer her.

“Mom, I understand what you’re saying. I really do. But they need my help, and I can’t just walk away to save my own skin. They’re strong, they can protect me,” you tried to reason, unsuccessfully as she almost growled on the other end of the line. A series of heavy footsteps echoed through the empty street as Nero approached, a concerned look on his features as he heard the strain in your voice. He held out his hand in a silent offer, waiting patiently for you to decide.

“Look, I’m going to put Nero on with you. He’s one of the people I’m travelling with,” you informed your mother, handing the small phone over to the white haired man with an apologetic smile. He held it up to his ear and instantly cringed as she shouted at him angrily.

He waited patiently as she finished her tirade, sharing a look of bemused surprise with you as her voice gradually wound down. You couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but could hazard a guess to the gist of her monologue.

“Look, Mrs... Sorry, what’s your last name? Newman? Ok, look Mrs. Newman, I’ve been dealing with this kinda stuff for years and this isn’t even the worst thing I’ve seen. I get that it looks insane from the outside, but I swear to you on my fiancé’s life that we will keep her safe.”

Another few shouted threats, but Nero only nodded thoughtfully as he listened intently. You cracked a smile at his focused expression as he dealt with your protective mother at her finest with surprising skill.

“Yes, I’m aware. She does seem special. Honestly, none of us have a clue how to dress a wound and her skills have already been a huge help. I wouldn’t be so dumb as to risk her life after seeing how helpful she can be,” Nero commented logically. His words seemed to help, your mother’s response slightly less high volume than the last few.

He nodded again seriously, his lips a tight line of tension as he sighed heavily into the mouthpiece.

“Yes, I can promise you that. Here she is,” he concluded, then handed the phone back to you with a slight tint in his cheeks, one of his hands scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. You took the phone back and returned it to your ear with a grimace, bracing yourself to get chewed out.

“He seems nice. Too bad he isn’t single…”

“Mom! Seriously?” you cried in embarrassed surprise.

“What? You’ve been alone for too long! Just… promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I don’t know how I’d recover if I lost you, honey.”

“I promise, mom. I’ll call you again soon, okay?” you replied, swallowing the lump that appeared in your throat at her concerned tone.

“Okay. I love you, Y/N. Be safe.”

“I love you too, mom. Goodbye,” you murmured, then ended the call with a slight sniffle. The phone still had almost half a charge, so you handed it back to Nero with a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Nero. Your turn,” you reminded him, stepping away as he took it and dialed Kyrie. His face lit up with joy as she answered, and you smiled gently to yourself as you watched him talk to her from afar, enjoying the chance to see how much he cared about her. It brought a slight ache to your chest to see, envy for the unknown woman’s bond flowing through your mind. You missed that feeling, knowing that someone cared about you that way.

I’m not an idiot teenager anymore, I don’t need someone to love me to feel good.

But it sure would be nice.

 ______________________________________

May 18th, 11:32 am

You finished tying off the end of Nero’s bandage and sighed. “That’s the last one. We’ll need to gather more today, and we could use some antiseptic too, maybe some groceries if we’re lucky,” you told him as he performed his now familiar stretches to check the tightness of your handiwork. His arm was healing well, faster than you would have imagined. Another week and he wouldn’t need the bandage anymore, but in the meantime…

V looked up from his poetry book, carefully sliding it back into his coat. “Nero and I can gather what you need. There’s a market not far from here that looks mostly intact,” he commented, standing slowly.

You instantly wanted to go with them. Nico’s van had become a second home to you in the time since your rescue, but you hadn’t been farther than ten feet from it. The stifling air, the close quarters, Nico’s occasional string of curses as she worked… it was all making you feel a bit claustrophobic. You were filled with restless energy and had no way to burn it. The idea of a walk, even a short walk, made your heart beat faster in excitement.

Not to mention you wanted to make sure they brought back exactly what you needed. The two men weren’t exactly well versed at taking care of themselves, so you had your doubts to their ability to bring back the correct medical supplies.

“I’ll come too, I could use a walk and if it isn’t far it should be safe,” you hesitantly replied, hoping they didn’t protest.

Nero grinned, standing and cracking his neck loudly. “Works for me, just stay behind us and try and keep up,” he stated cockily. V frowned slightly but didn’t argue, much to your surprise. You had expected him to protest, but he simply shrugged his tattooed shoulders nonchalantly.

“Fine, an extra set of eyes is never unwelcome. Shall we?” He moved toward the door as he spoke, clearly anxious to get moving. You smiled widely and followed him, Nero close behind.

“Grab me some cereal, I’m almost out!” Nico called out from behind her workbench and you snickered. She kept a box at the station with her at all times, hastily cramming a mouthful of it between her lips as she worked every few minutes. Often times her curses had to find a way through her full mouth before being heard, and the sound of crunching clusters of cereal mixed with the mechanical sounds of her working throughout the day.

“I’ve got you covered, Nico!” you called back to her as the door swung shut and you stepped away from the van, a nervous smile on your lips as you left the safety of camp behind.

Oddly enough, the journey to the market was uneventful. Quiet, even. The streets, once filled with life and noise, were silent save for the sound of your groups almost alarmingly audible footfalls on the pavement, stepping cautiously around the extensive cracks in the street. It amazed you how in the span of a few short days, the city seemed to have been completely vacated. Looking around you, it felt like the citizens of your home had simply… vanished.

I guess all those disaster movies had it wrong. The streets aren’t full of abandoned cars, no luggage left behind in the chaos of flight… no trampled bodies or evidence of panic.

Then you noticed several human shaped husks as you walked, looking like some demented form of modern art. You felt a pang in your heart as you saw one no larger than a child, arm still outstretched to grasp the string on a red balloon, and realized they weren’t statues, or art.

They’re… people.

Revulsion and a sick curiosity filled you, your stomach threatening to reacquaint you with your breakfast even as your eyes looked closer at the nearest husk, trying to understand how a human being could possibly be reduced to… this.

The remains were unlike any other corpse you’d ever seen. The flesh was grey and webbed, looking not dissimilar to the false spiderwebs you’d used as Halloween decorations, or maybe if you looked at a sponge under a microscope. You could see beneath the top layer of skin in most areas, and you could tell the condition persisted throughout the body. Red strands branched out from what resembled a vine overlapping the corpse’s spine, a grotesque caricature of the nervous system. There were no facial structures discernable within the mass of greyish-white fibers where eyes, mouth and nose once resided, no way to possibly identify the remains. No way to offer comfort or closure to those left behind.

You widened your gaze to take in more and more of the abhorrent husks arranged in varying positions of running away or engaging in a last embrace with a loved one or twisted into positions of panic and fear. Their final moments captured forever in a sick mimicry of life.

A warm hand on your shoulder interrupted your morbid musings, bringing you back to the moment. Nero stood beside you, a look of sympathy on his features as he watched your reaction to the ghastly scene.

“We were able to evacuate about two dozen people total, just me and V. I’m sure we weren’t the only people doing it. And some folks from the outer areas of the city might have made it out in time,” he stated, clearly doing his best to reassure you.

“There’s nothing we can do for them now,” V added, his voice oddly tight as he continued, “Now is my grief at worst: incapable of being surpassed.”

V bowed his head, obsidian locks falling forward and hiding his face from view.

“What did this to them?” you questioned the two men quietly.

“I can’t be sure yet, but I may be able to find answers in Dante’s library. The man himself didn’t care much for research, but some of his allies managed to collect a respectable amount of information,” V replied.

You edged away from the deformed remains and gave Nero a grateful look, his hand still resting on your shoulder. He patted your shoulder gently before his hand dropped.

“We should keep moving,” he reminded you kindly, and the three of you journeyed on towards your destination.

The remainder of the distance passed in silence, all of you lost in a haze of troubled thoughts. You couldn’t stop thinking about the husks, wondering if any of your acquaintances or coworkers made it out of the city.

I should have called them, warned them somehow… I should’ve saved them, should have at least tried.

The thought made your heart clench in guilt and you thought of little else for a time before the silence pressed in on your mind, making the sound of your groups footsteps seem to echo in the quiet air.

The lack of demon activity set you on edge; you had expected more of the strange tentacles to appear, brandishing their deadly spikes like a Kraken rising from the depths. Your suspicion grew as you approached the small supermarket, wondering if demons were smart enough to lay traps.

They were.

The moment you entered the shop, a crackling sound struck your ears as unearthly red webbing covered the doors and windows. Nero and V both took up battle stances near you, and you began to quake in fear as the demons appeared through greyish portals. You realized then that you had only seen the tentacles until now and your blood ran cold as you got your first glimpse at these new foes.

Oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick…

They resembled insects but were as large as bears. Some had red abdomens pulsing with what you assumed was blood, others featured wings and glowed with an eerie green light. They smelled like death, like maggots feasting on corpses. You knew the aroma well and tried to swallow your revulsion as your stomach rolled at the scent.

The men sprang into action immediately, Nero laughing as he slashed at a red bellied demon with his hilariously gargantuan sword. He dashed off between the aisles into the shop, giving chase to several creatures as they backed away. You lost sight of him, turning to watch V instead.

The obsidian-haired man moved sideways, pulling out his poetry book before pointing his silver cane out, and you watched in awe as Griffon exploded out of the ink on his body in a chaotic shower of black shards.

"Hell yeah! It's about time, Shakespeare!" Griffon howled as he dove toward the flying creatures.

V smirked in amusement, but he wasn't done. You blinked and Shadow appeared at his side, roaring a threat to the closest demon.

"Pin them to the wall..." V intoned, his voice deep and foreboding. It sent a tingle up your spine, the tone he used one you’d never heard from him.

Griffon and Shadow attacked, moving with grace and deadly precision. You expected the demons to fall to them quickly, but they seemed unable to finish off their foes. Instead, V would dart forward in the blink of an eye and deal the final blow with the end of his cane. He moved so fast you could barely track his movements, incredibly elegant and poised. Each time he finished off a demon, you spotted a small smile on his face, barely a twitch of those full lips. He looked... euphoric.

Nero and V can handle this. All I have to do is stay out of their way and we should all be fine. Right?

Suddenly you heard a hissing sound to your left. You had been so preoccupied watching V that you hadn't noticed a demon approaching you sneakily. You gulped anxiously, looking around desperately for a weapon but finding none, only shopping carts and baskets. The creature advanced on you, forcing you back into an aisle of kitchen supplies. You searched the displays desperately for a knife, a pair of scissors, anything with a sharp edge but all you saw were baking sheets and wooden spoons.

Fine. That'll have to do. I won't be helpless again.

You snatched up a baking sheet and held it like a shield; a wooden spoon became your sword. You had little range, so you waited for the creature to approach you. It didn't take long - it rushed at you with a monstrous chittering, sensing your fear as your heart pounded frantically against your ribcage. You lifted the baking sheet to shield your face and smacked the creature as hard as you could with the spoon. It made a satisfying squelching sound, but the creature barely backed off. You glanced around again, desperately searching for more options as you continued your retreat down the aisle. A frying pan caught your eye - at least that had a wider end to smack the damn bastard with.

You threw the spoon at the creature and grabbed the pan as quickly as you could before it had a chance to take advantage. The creature came at you again, and this time you aimed more carefully. You struck it square in its face, causing it to let out a slight yelp of pain. You grinned, gaining confidence. You swung the frying pan again, landing a hit on its disgusting mandibles. One of them broke off, and you did an internal victory dance as it clattered to the linoleum floor. It came at you once again, and you slammed the pan into its face at the same time as you swiped at its spindly legs with your baking sheet shield. The creature tumbled to the ground and you took your frying pan in both hands, proceeding to beat its hideous face in. You lost track of how many times you hit it, pausing to see the damage you dealt, chest heaving.

Is it dead?

The creature let out a final whine of pain, then went still. You had won! You laughed, flush with victory as the creature began to dissolve in a cloud of grey particles, not unlike those that herald Griffon’s or Shadow’s arrival.

V chose that moment to limp into the aisle, take one look at you standing above a dying demon, a frying pan clutched in both hands and a look of elation on your face, and immediately barked out a laugh at the sight.

You turned crimson, then started giggling with him. I must look absurd! He walked over to you slowly, leaning heavily on his cane. Smirking again.

"The weak in courage is strong in cunning, yet you seem to have an abundance of both. And considering your weapon was a simple kitchen pan, I imagine you'd be invincible with a true weapon." His smirk evolved into a true grin, and you noticed that his eyes sparkled when he smiled. He reached out, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. His touch made you catch your breath.

"All hail the mighty wielder of kitchen supplies!" You heard Griffon call out from his perch on top of the aisle, chuckling as well.

V smirked yet again before grunting in pain and coming close to collapsing. You took a step towards him, worried, but he stood tall quickly enough and waved you off.

"We'd best find Nero. And find those supplies you require. Shall we?"

He turned and limped away. You followed him closely, still watching to make sure he didn't drop. He leaned on his cane heavily as you searched the store for Nero, clearly worn out from the battle. You wondered what was wrong with him, if there was any treatment you could offer him to help ease his pain.

I’ll ask him later, when we’re in a safe place.

Luckily Nero wasn’t far; as you and V approached him he dealt the death blow to a hideous creature with a scythe, looking like a real-life Grim Reaper. You shivered at the thought as Nero slung his huge sword across his back and strode up to you.

"I think that's the last of them, let's get what we came for and scram," he recommended. You nodded, eyes scanning the signs hanging above the aisles for the section of the store with first aid supplies as you tried not to think about how V's touch had felt when he tucked your hair a moment ago.

Within ten minutes you had everything you could need and then some, having taken everything on the shelves for first aid purposes. You were also able to find some boxed meals that only needed water or an egg to be edible. Some cereal for Nico, granola bars, beef jerky and a couple cans of soup rounded out your loot. The three of you headed back outside, Nero in the lead just in case. You fell into step with V, still watching him to make sure he was alright.

Griffon settled onto V's arm, watching you scrutinize his master. You blushed when he commented with a teasing chuckle, "Careful V, this one can't keep her eyes off ya!"

V smirked but didn’t respond. You saw him glance at you, catching you staring, and wondered if it was possible for you to turn any redder. You kept your eyes on the ground from then on, not seeing that V was watching you now.

 ---V---

V studied you, wondering if perhaps you had more to offer than first aid skills. Seeing you take down an Empusa with nothing but a frying pan had been extraordinary, especially considering that only a few short days had passed since you had almost gotten yourself killed. You clearly learned fast, or at least had the determination (or stubbornness) required to be a devil hunter.

Come to think of it, I have yet to meet a devil hunter who isn’t exceedingly stubborn.

The thought made him smirk, amused.

Remembering his own weaknesses, his own frailty, caused V to hesitate to place your well-being in his own hands. He couldn’t rely on his own strength to keep you from harm; it was too fragile, too unreliable to be counted on.

She must learn to keep herself safe.

It was obvious to him that you needed training, but he couldn’t do it himself. His own technique of summoning wasn’t exactly… teachable. Perhaps Nero would be willing? He might even have a spare weapon for you to use. If not, V was certain he could find a suitable alternative somewhere inside Nico’s cluttered van. There always seemed to be extra odds and ends around.

 ______________________________________

 May 19th, 12:37 pm

V emitted a small noise of frustration as he studied the weapons he’d located for you; a hammer Nico no longer used, a dagger Trish left behind on that ill-fated day not long ago, and an old revolver of Dante’s with a sticky loading mechanism.

It isn’t much, but it’s better than a frying pan.

He looked out the grimy window, scanning the campsite for you. It wasn’t a large area, just barely big enough to fit the van amongst the rubble and for Nero to have dragged a picnic table over and built a fire pit for an all too rare hot meal. There you were, stirring a rather large stew pot over the open flames. Nero sat nearby at the picnic table, keeping you company.

“Ya got enough ammo for that revolver?” Nico asked him from her usual spot behind the counter. She was working on some kind of arm for Nero but had kindly spared a few moments to help him gather the weapons.

“I believe so, at least for now,” V replied thoughtfully, idly running his fingers over the grooves of his cane.

How much ammo does one need, usually?

“Then why are ya still in here? Go give em to her! Sooner she’s trained up the better. I got a feeling she’ll keep an eye on you two geniuses when I can’t,” Nico added with a teasing grin. V nodded, carefully placing the weapons into a simple bag to carry them. Sometimes it was a chore having to use a cane.

I suppose that’s one way Nero and I are similar; neither of us has the full function of our arms. More or less.

He stepped outside, sparing a moment to enjoy the sun on his skin before limping his way over to you. He took a seat across from Nero, leaning his cane against the wooden planks of the bench beside him and placed the bag in front of you.

"What's this?" you inquired as you shifted your gaze from cooking to meet his eyes.

"After the incident with the frying pan, I thought you might have need of a slightly more suitable weapon. If you’re to travel with us, you’ll need to be capable of defending yourself," he answered carefully.

"But... I don't know how to fight,” you reminded him hesitantly.

V smirked. "Not yet, you don't. Nero, would you be willing to train Y/N?"

Nero beamed and V internally congratulated himself on finding a way for you to train and simultaneously for Nero to allow his arm to rest. He wouldn’t go all out against a beginner, so the arrangement was better than if Nero were left to his own devices. V knew he would then overexert himself against whatever demons may be lurking nearby, the young warrior seemingly incapable of holding back.

"Nero, you're going to train me? But what about your arm? It's still healing," you asked the wounded warrior.

"Pfft... I can train you without using both arms, no problem! It'll help me stay sharp too; I'd hate to lose my edge from all this resting you're forcing me to do," he scoffed with a playfully dismissive wave. "C'mon, it'll be fun!"

You sighed, clearly exasperated by the young man as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "Fine, but the second you start bleeding you let me look at it again, ok?"

Nero rolled his eyes but nodded.

“For now, lunch is ready. Allow me,” you offered as you ladled out three servings of piping hot stew.

“Awesome, I’m starved!” declared Nero enthusiastically as he quickly knocked on the side of the van to let Nico know lunch was ready.

“Thank you, Y/N. This looks wonderful,” V added. He took a small bite; the beef was chewier than he would have preferred, but the flavor was magnificent, and he released a small sound of enjoyment.

How on Earth did she manage to cobble together such a taste?

“Thanks, V,” you answered with a smile, and he dipped his head in acknowledgement. Nico came barreling out to join the group; she never spent much time eating actual meals if she was in the middle of a project, so when she took her bowl back inside no one was surprised. The three of you tucked in together, enjoying the simple stew quietly until everyone finished eating.

As the sounds of eating faded, V leaned back to enjoy the sunlight on his skin once more. The flavor of your stew lingered on his tongue and he did his best to memorize the taste, locking it in his memory.

Such simple pleasures must not be taken for granted.

“So, uh, how did you guys end up doing this? Hunting demons?” you shyly asked, breaking the silence.

Nero chuckled, his eyes catching V’s in a moment of shared introspection.

“That… is a very, very long story,” Nero started off, shifting his body to settle in to tell the lengthy tale. V knew the basics of Nero’s story, but curiosity filled him at the chance to learn more and hear it directly from the young hunter’s own mouth.

He launched into the tale of the Order of the Sword, the attempted murder of their leader Sanctus by Dante, and their plot to open the Hell Gates; the resulting demonic attack on Fortuna and creation of a monstrous statue they dubbed “The Savior” to protect the city from an evil they had unleashed. He tried to gloss over any mention of his fiancé, Kyrie, his eyes getting a strange look in them that V didn’t recognize whenever he spoke her name.  V noted that your face also changed expression at the mention of her, and he wondered what on Earth he was missing, what detail eluded him that left him feeling so… empty.

“And I’ve been hunting the ugly bastards ever since,” Nero concluded eventually.

“Wow… I think I remember hearing something about that a few years back, but I thought people were exaggerating. That’s… you must really love her,” you murmured in awe. Nero turned completely red and looked away from you, stammering.

Could it be love? Could that be what I do not understand; what it is to love someone?

V searched his recollections and found nothing, no moments of connection or affection in his Vergilian memories save for the scant moments of his youth with his mother he could barely recall from so long ago. He glanced again at Nero’s expression and decided he would like to know what that felt like, to love someone. To be loved.

Pointless. My fate is sealed, there is no time to waste on other pursuits.

“Yeah, well… sure. What about V? What’s your story?” Nero asked in a clear attempt to redirect the conversation.

I will eventually need to tell them something, but this is not the time.

V forced out a chuckle and reached for his cane, standing slowly as he spoke. “Mine is a story for another time,” he informed you and Nero, walking away from the table. He twirled his cane and pulled out his poetry book to read, to focus his mind, and you and Nero exchanged a look before you stood and gathered the dishes to wash up after lunch.

~~~Next Chapter~~~

[tobelongtheseries]

“To Belong” Writing Contest Entry Written by: MaddCat96​

The rickety wooden door swings open, filling the dark, musty room with bright light. I shield my eyes with my shackled hands as the Tall Man tosses in another victim. This time it appears to be a young man. His hair was all in tangles and his clothes are ripped in some places as if he had put up a fight against his capture. The Tall Man pins the boy to the wall, but he is not met without resistance. After bashing the boy in the head with a strong fist he is able to stagger him and shackle him up to the wall with wrist cuffs and a metal choker identical to mine. The Tall Man grabs a fistfull of the boy’s hair and lifts him to eye level. My eyes had adjusted to the bright light and I caught sight of the Man’s blackened and bruised face.

“You better learn some manners,” the Tall Man hisses in the boy’s face. “Next time you swing at me I will put you down.” He thrusts the boy down to the ground. The Tall Man turns and clumsily moves in my direction. He checks my shackles thoroughly and makes sure the chains are still nailed tight to the wall. I had loosened them once before, but after noticing their slack he refastened them and gave me a slow beating. After confirming that my chains were tight the Tall Man leaves me and the boy to rot in the dark, slamming the door behind him. I wait and listen for his heavy boots to fade away into silence before attempting contact with my new cellmate. 

“Hey,” I whisper, shocked by how raspy my voice is, “Are you conscious?” I wait for a reply as I sit in the empty darkness of the small room, he says nothing. I press him one more time. “Hello?” “Yeah,” the young man spoke with a rather aloof tone. “I’m conscious. What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you were, considering the shit circumstances,” I reply in a hushed tone. “Are you bleeding? Can you tell?” He grunts, “I don’t know. He hit me in the gut pretty damn hard though.” I reach into my trouser pocket and pull out half of a yeast roll I had wrapped in a napkin the Tall Man had given me from two days before. “Are you hungry? I have something, but it isn’t much.” I wait a moment for his answer, but he says nothing. “Tap your fingers on the floor. I can roll it over to you.” The room is silent for a second, but then I hear the tapping of fingernails on the rugged concrete. I tell him to keep tapping as I focus on the source of the sound. Shortly after, I roll the bread in the direction of the noise hoping it meets his hands.

Kodi’s chains rattled. “Thank you,” he whispers to me. The bread had become stale, which gave every bite a small crunching sound. “Wish I had some water.” Rustling sounds from his location and his chains settle onto the floor. I would guess that he is laying down now. “You wouldn’t happen to have a secret canteen of water, would you?” I scoff somewhat bitterly. Silence fills the room for quite sometime before he speaks again. “My name’s Kodi. Well, Kodiak really. Kodi, for short.” He waits for my name, but I welcome the silence in this moment. 

“What’s your-” his next question is cut short as we hear Tall Man’s footfalls again. I hear quick rustling from the boy, Kodi. The heavy boots that I know so well come closer and closer. I eye the extremely thin line of light from beneath the door intensely, waiting for his shadow to obstruct the light. I hold my breath and can feel my heart beat loudly in my skull. The thuds of his boots come closer and echo throughout the hall outside the room until the shadows of his feet stop at our door. I wait for the door to swing open and see him barge in with crumbs of food or ripped and tattered rags he tries to pass off as clothes, but he just... stands there. The longer the door stays closed the louder my heart pounds. The room is so quiet I swear I can hear Kodi breathing. After what feels like an eternity, he finally moves on past our door to continue down the hallway. I dare not to move nor breathe until his footsteps fade away completely. A sigh of relief sounds from Kodi’s direction. His chains rattle slightly. 

“What do you think he was doing?” he whispers. “Listening?” My spine shivers. “I’m not sure. Listening, waiting. Maybe he was just trying to scare us.” “Well, now that that little moment of terror has passed, what’s your name?” “Eh, it-it’s... Arissa.” “Hmm,” he grunts. “What?” “Weird, but pretty.” “Thank you?” “So what’s your form?” “I don’t really think that’s any of your business.” “It is if you’d be able to slip out of those chains.” I let out a sigh. “Red fox. Believe me, I’ve tried. I can get my hands free, but I can’t get out of this collar.” “Damn,” he curses under his breath. “Wouldn’t do me any good either. Horse.” “Ah.” I rest my back against the stone wall and close my eyes in hopes of sleep. “How long?” His voice goes from a lighthearted try-to-make-the-most-of-it tone to a firmer, gruffer tone. “How long what?” “How long has he kept you here?” I think for a moment trying to count the days, but with no windows or clocks it could be ten years into the future and I wouldn’t know any better. “I have no idea. It feels like ages, but it could only be a few days for all I know.” “Where are you from?” “Erm, Wexton. To the East of Bristles.” “Really? I moved to Wexton a couple months back.” “Oh…” “What kind of day was it when he took you?” I raise my head and stare in what I estimate to be his direction. “What?” “Was it hot? Warm? Freezing? Windy?” “I-I don’t know.” “Think.” I try to look back on the day when the Tall Man cornered me in a narrow side street not too far from the bakery where I worked. The day had been damp, dark, and humid.“It was… raining and it was warm.” “Warm,” he is silent for a few minutes. “The last warm, rainy day we had was… That was a month ago.” My heart leaps into my throat. “What?” I know I have been here for quite some time, but I never thought a month. Will I ever leave this place? “He’s kept you here for over a month.” “I can’t believe this is happening. If I could get my hands on him I’d-” a sigh of helplessness escapes me. I then remember that the Tall Man looked like he had gotten into a scuffle when he brought in my new roommate. “Are you the one who gave him that black eye?” “Damn right. That bastard deserves a lot more than what he got away with.” Kodi’s chains rattle again and his voice sounds from above me this time. He must be standing now. “When I get these restraints off he is going to wish he had never been birthed.” After an unsatisfying rest, I scratch under my metal choker and stretch my limbs little by little trying to make the least amount of noise as possible when I notice the door to our room is cracked. I could actually see the walls and floor of the room, which was somehow more unnerving than the pitch black. In a quick flash, I became more aware of my surroundings and what little noise I made. I pan my eyes around the room and took it in for the first time. It’s a small, simple four walled room that was clearly built by an ameteur, but it’s not completely cramped. The walls are dry stone and quite dull from what I can tell. The ceiling is wooden and is held up by narrow rafters, while the floor is a dark grey and rough concrete. My chains attach to the wall opposite of the door and a set of empty shackles that connect to the wall on my left lay on the floor. The wall to my right is where Kodi is bound. 

I can tell in the dim light that his eyes are closed. He must be sleeping. He looks different compared to the first glimpse I caught of him when the Tall Man first brought him here. He seems tall and well built for a boy his age. His hair is long and frizzy but mostly fashioned over to the right side of his head and shoulders. He has an eyebrow piercing in his left brow and a few helix piercings with a small hoop ear ring on the same side. His clothes are simple and suggest he’s middle class, but there are tears and rips that are most likely from his fight with the Tall Man. He is also missing a boot. I turn my attention to a sudden loud band from the hallway, which in turn rouses Kodi from his sleep. Kodi blinks away the sleep from his eyes and turns to me. “What was that?” he whispers.

I shrug my shoulders and shake my head, but keep my eyes on the door. I can hear shoes scuffling in the hallway and something banging into the walls. “Quit squirming!” I hear the Man shout aggressively. The scuffling gets closer and right outside of our room he yells out and a shadow darts across the doorway. “You little bitch!” Down the hall, I hear a high pitched voice from what I guess is a young girl. “Get away from me!” The fear in her voice was clear as crystal. The Man’s shadow flashes across the doorway as he chases the poor girl down. “No,” I let the word slip from my lips.

The girl screams again. Our door swings open as the Tall Man carries the tiny girl on his shoulder to the empty shackles. She kicks and screams and even tries to bite his ear off, but he is far stronger. He pins her to the wall, cuffs her hands and neck, and makes sure they’re tight on her. She struggles for a few minutes, but she tires out soon after. The Man gives a hefty exhale and turns to me. He crouches down and lifts my jaw to inspect my chained collar and examines the wrists cuffs. He glances above me to the metal slab that keeps my chains in the wall.

“Those bolts better be tight,” he growls. He raises up and examines the bolts on the slab. “Good” He then walks over to Kodi who is sitting with his arms rested on his drawn up knees. The Tall Man bends down to check over his chains. Once satisfied, he takes one last look around the room and mutters, “Not long now,” before locking the door behind him. Immediately after the thud of his boots fades away, the girl begins to weep. Her crying took me back to when the Tall Man first brought me here. I cried for what seemed like days thinking that I might never see my parents again or that I might never see the light of day. It’s a truly painful feeling I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I speak to her in an empathetic whisper. “There isn’t much I can say to help this situation, but-”

“No, there’s not.” She spoke between sniffles. “That monster murdered them!” Shock gripped me hard as I heard Kodi’s chains shift. “He what?” “He killed them!” She was shouting now. “He killed them!” Kodi’s voice was close to me ear. “Calm down, okay? Try to lower your voice. What happened?” She began to wail. “He killed my parents!” My heart dropped. “Oh, my gosh.” The girl continued to wail and weep quite loudly. “Hey, listen to me,” Kodi spoke softly to her, “you need to calm down. If you don’t then he’s going to come back and he might hurt you.” The girl’s chains rattled fiercely. “I don’t care!” she shouted. “Let him come! There’s nothing he could do to me that hurt me!” A door slam sounds from the hall. “You hear me, you son of a bitch!?”

The door swings open yet again with the Tall Man in full view from the light of the hall. “Shut the hell up!” he yells. The Man steps into the room and heads straight for the little girl when Kodi take his cuff chains and throw them around the Man’s neck. Kodi spins around quickly to put his back against the Man’s to use as leverage and pulls the chains down, tightening them around his neck. The Man struggles for air as he claws at the chains, but when he struggles further Kodi pulls harder. The skirmish lasted for several, long minutes before the Tall Man finally gave out and fell to the floor with a thud. Kodi releases him and steps back. His face has the look of determination coupled with fear. We’re all stunned and just stand there looking at the limp body. My heart pounds in my throat. “Is… he…”

“No,” Kodi replies firmly, “he’s just unconscious.” He looks over to the young girl who has stopped crying. “What’s your name?” She meets his gaze. “Mali.” “Okay, Mali, do you think you can reach him? I need you to search his pockets. I can’t them on that side.” Kodi bends down and begins to rummage through the pockets on his side. I see the girl, Mali, bend down and reach out to the Man, but her chains are short and her arms are shorter. “I-I can’t reach,” she says between gasps of her hyperventilation. “Arissa,” Kodi addresses me, which jolts me out of my shock induced stupor, “can you reach him? Maybe you can slide him closer to her.”

I nod. Crouched down over the Tall Man’s head, I get a glimpse of his face up close. He is a gruff looking man with stubble around his mouth and chin. His hair looks like a brown rat’s nest and he has a scar going over the bridge of his nose to his left eye. I grab his hard shoulders and I try to push him closer to Mali. Kodi helps by pushing the Man’s hips and torso. Mali stretches out her arms until she can grab the rim of a pocket. “Got it!” She searched his pants pocket then moved up to the jacket pocket. She pulled out a ring with several keys on it. 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Kodi raises up and holds out his hands. “Toss ‘em, I’ll see if I can find a match to these cuffs.” Mali glances at the key ring then looks back at Kodi. “I have a better idea.” She sets the keys on the ground in front of her and takes a step back. Her human form shrinks down, down into her clothes until she disappears. I peer over to see a tiny lump moving around under her clothes. A small, furry bat crawls out and away from the chains. 

Once she was far away from her former restraints, Mali returns to her human form while Kodi and I look away for her to redress. “Before he took me, the bastard asked for my other form,” she explained as she slipped on her clothes. “So I told him it was a bull and to piss off. Lucky us.” She grabs the keys and runs over to me, trying them all until one of them fit the lock, then moves over to Kodi. I welcome the musky air on my bare neck. It feels wonderful to be free once again. Once Kodi’s chains were removed, he looks down on the Tall Man, swings his leg back, and gives his side a vigorous kick. He stands there a moment before kicking him again. “Rot in the ground, you pathetic waste of life,” he mutters under his breath as he turns to leave. “Let’s go before he wakes.”

Mali and I follow Kodi out into the hallway. It was long, brightly lit with orange bulbs, some of which flickered omionously. The floor is a dark wood and the walls are dry stone just like the room we had been held in. A few doors stand to our left, while only one door was to our right. Any one of these could lead to our freedom. 

“Should we split up?” Mali asks with a dejected expression. “No,” I quickly answer. The thought of being alone terrifies me to my core. “I-It would be safer to stay close. He could wake at any moment and I like our chances of three against one.” Kodi looks past me to the single door. “We could start at one end, see if we can find a way out. C’mon, we’ll stay in a group. Keep your eyes and ears open. We don’t want to get caught off guard.” He leads the way down the hall with Mali and me in tow. The light bulbs continue to flicker and fill me with more and more anxiety. From my peripheral, I see Mali glance behind us, making my heart jumps into my throat. I have the sudden urge to run, but we stop as we reach the door. Kodi tries the handle and the door is pushed open. From what I can observe it seems to be a kitchen of some sorts. There’s a countertop next to a stove’s corner and I can see an old basket of fruit that needs to be tossed. The smell is not pleasant. Mali holds her nose in disgust as she curses under her breath. We enter the kitchen and are blasted with a stronger odor that sends all of us reeling.

“For the love of- what died in here?” Kodi gags a little, then his face flushes of color. “Oh, don’t answer that. Let’s find a door or something.” We wander around the relatively large room until we stumble upon a good sized bay window in, what I suspect to be, the dining area. Mali braces herself against the bottom of the window’s frame and pushes up with all her might, but the window stays in place. Kodi shakes his head. “Wasting your energy. That kind of window doesn’t open.”

I find a broken leg of a nearby side table and shake off some dust. “Can’t we break it?” Before either of them could respond a loud yell came from the hall. The Tall Man is awake. I whip around to the door we had just entered waiting for the Man to come raging in. I tried to move, but my legs were frozen in place. Fear grips me fast and will not let me go. Kodi rushes over and tosses me over to the window with Mali. He stands before us as his form enlarges. His clothes rip and tear as his body takes the shape of a tall, buckskin horse. The Tall Man storms into the room, knocking the door off one of its hinges. Kodi rears up on his hind legs and thrashes at the air with his forelegs, challenging the Man to come closer. My eyes grow wide as I notice a long piece of metal hanging by the Tall Man’s side. He has a machete.

[wildroseofarran]

Otherworldly Revelations, Pt. I || Callum, Matheus, & Luna

Matheus: Matheus looked to his clock once more. He wasn't paying attention, so looking was as useless as breathing. Ronan wasn't coming back. He was upset. Their night together had been ruined and his forward behavior had only set to worsen it.

He looked to the clock again.

He needed to get out of his cabin.

So, he would walk. The door shut behind him, monocle adjusted, he didn't consciously care where his feet led him, but they were specific in their direction just the same. Past 9th Street, Valmont Drive, over the bridge.

He passed his old mansion with slower caution.

Where was he going?

Callum: The creature at the end of the vampire's unintentional path was having a rather strangely pleasant evening.

Work with flowers and plants had been temporarily put aside in favor of assembling a small bookshelf for his guest room. There was a dog dozing away on the chair closest to him, The Twilight Zone was keeping him company, and a fluffy white cat was lounging by the screen door, half peering outside, half watching his owner.

All in all, a very peaceful scene at the MacGillivray household.

Matheus: The moon was nearly full, so turning his head to the left, he'd see Callum MacGillivray work with perfect detail. He should know better, shouldn't he? Keep his doors locked, windows shut. Keep things like him out.

He had no ill intention.

He headed towards the window.

Callum: It was too nice outside for Callum to even consider closing the door and windows. The night air was starting to cool with the promise of autumn and he just couldn't resist.

Prospero turned toward the movement in the darkness while Callum squinted at the instruction manual.

"I wonder which is worse," he said to no one in particular. "Havin' the instructions in Swedish or havin' these vague bleedin' pictures."

Matheus: "Pictures are universal, Mr. MacGillivray, Swedish is just cruel."

Callum: Callum just about jumped out of his skin at the voice, dropping the instructions and the screwdriver he was holding as he whipped toward the window.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!"

Matheus: "Really, you should better pay attention to your surroundings. Not everything is as benign as I am."

Callum: "Buildin' Ikea furniture tends to require all one's wits. And ye're preachin' to the choir." He picked up the manual and screwdriver and put them on the coffee table, hands settling on his hips.

Now what could Matheus Clay be doing in his neck of the woods?

Matheus: "Your wards are very well made," he said. "I don't think we're the same as when they were put in place."

His eyes closed. "No, I dare say, we've grown since then. Incidentally, you have a spirit dwelling in your backyard."

Callum: Callum's brow furrowed. "Aye, they are. Hands far more skilled than mine put them in place." And if those hands had gotten their way, there'd be even stronger wards in place, and more of them.

He nodded. "I'll wager we have. No one stays in the same place forever, no' even someone immortal." Callum blinked in surprise. "I do?" So that's what Jolly Roger was barking at all this time.

Matheus: "Change, but excruciatingly slow. There is no doubt about that. Can take a hundred years to learn to love." His thoughts still retreated to Ronan.

"Yes, you do. I'm not wrong."

Callum: "I suppose it could, yes." And wouldn't that be a sad and lonely wait?

Huh. How about that? "Man, woman, or being?"

Matheus: "I don't know. I only sense it. It's a new soul. That much I can tell you." Their last conversation hadn't gone nearly as amicable. He looked from the ground to the druid.

Callum: "Hmm. I'll probably have to look into that sooner or later." Then again, it wasn't as if the spirit was wreaking any havoc. He hadn't even noticed their presence. Maybe he'd let them stay.

Speaking of staying...

"Do you...want to come in?"

Matheus: A hand slipped into his coat pocket. He looked towards the street.

"I took your sense of love. I took it without so much as a hello. You're asking me to come inside?"

Callum: "Well those wards you noticed won't let you pull that again, so..."

Matheus: "Here." How did that make Callum feel? A prisoner in his own home?

Callum: "Here," he repeated before pointing at his head. "And in here." Bronwyn had done more than ward his house.

She'd taught him how to ward himself.

Matheus: "Does that prevent your husband from tampering as well?"

Callum: "It prevents ill will from messin' with my head."

Matheus: "So, I can enter just fine."

Callum: "I'm afraid the door to my house is the only one that's open, mate." A nice way of saying 'fat chance'.

Matheus: 'I harbor little resentment to you and the murder of my wife.'

Callum: Callum blinked.

Matheus: "Anyway, Mr. MacGillivray, I'll leave you to it."

Callum: "....So you just came around to tell me I had a ghost and philosophize?"

Matheus: "I had no intention to see you. I'm just...walking."

Callum: Interesting place to have walked to, considering their history. "I see."

Matheus: Perhaps a part of him had desired some form of retaliation, punishment.

"Have a good evening." So, he'd continue on, back the way he came? Towards his old home. No shortage of animosity there.

Callum: "You as well." Because why bother with ill will? That was a waste of energy. "Enjoy yer walk, Matheus."

Matheus: His final farewell was just a smile which had no chance of reaching his eyes. Surely, something interesting would be happening in Rosmond's life. The prince of Edenton might have a task he could volunteer for. A show of good will.

Callum: The smile Callum gave him in return was a shade more genuine, but as soon as Matheus was out of sight he was squinting toward his backyard.

"Come on, laddie," he said to Prospero. "Let's see if we can catch sight of our silent housemate."

Tolvin: It wasn't as though they would see a man or woman standing out beside his rose bush. The moon, however, did appear brighter in the backyard. It offered a shine like that of a frosted glass spotlight.

Callum: This did not go unnoticed by Callum. In fact, he had to wonder how he hadn't noticed it before. "There is somethin' out here, isn't there?" he asked the cat.

Prospero stood by his master, ears moving back and forth as he tried to catch any sound the presence made. Of course there was something out here, he just didn't know who. But he was watching! As soon as the thing made a move, he'd know.

He chirped.

Tolvin: Aside from the light, very little was askew. A few flowers were nothing more than green stems, their buds cleanly cut. A few looked as though they had somehow exploded. Footsteps littered between the paths. There was emotion. A sense of determination Callum would feel as his own should he step closer.

Callum: Since he didn't sense any immediate danger, Callum did indeed step closer, scooping up the cat along the way.

"Seems like our spirit has been tramplin' about, boy-o," he said to Prospero, frowning at his maimed flowerbeds. He looked around for the source of the feeling clinging to the air. "They're restless."

Tolvin: There were footfalls in between the rose bushes. A soft patter to and fro, a crunch of healthy grass.

Callum: Man and cat turned toward the sound as one. "....Hello?" Callum called, stepping further into the garden.

Tolvin: There would be no answer, though the steps suddenly ceased.

Callum: Strangely enough, that made Callum smile. "So you are here, then. He was tellin' the truth. All right." He nodded to himself.

"Ye're welcome to stay if you like. Just mind the flowers."

Tolvin: Flowers? He wasn't doing anything to them. He didn't exist in the world of flesh, yet he was surprised to see them squashed where he had paced. He attempted to step on one, but as he paid attention, his foot went through it.

Callum: "You seem restless, which...makes sense given yer particular circumstances. It's a wonder I didn't notice you before. You wouldn't happen to possess the ability to flawlessly understand Ikea instructions, would you?"

Tolvin: What was this man going on about? He wouldn't have noticed before because this was his first night here. The flowers had attracted him, though he knew the name of none, save for the roses themselves. It was all random but beautiful.

Tolvin looked around and back. He waved his hand in front of the druid.

Callum: Random was exactly the way he liked his garden. Nature was meant to be random, with all manner of colors and varieties of all manner of plants growing side by side.

Callum may not have been able to see him, but Prospero very nearly could. At the very least, he /knew/ Tolvin was there, and that he was a man.

He watched Tolvin's general area intently, meowing.

Tolvin: "Hey, puss-puss." The wraith brushed his invisible finger over Prospero's paw.

Callum: Prospero gave a start, giving a little squeak of surprise before batting at the air. He'd definitely felt that. He knew there was someone there!

Tolvin: Tolvin laughed, and the air around them lessened in tension. He needed that.

Callum: Both Prospero and Callum felt the air lighten around them, and so did the remaining member of the household.

Jolly Roger came trotting over, sitting at Callum's feet and staring at the same spot as his brother.

"We've a guest, laddie. Say hello."

Tolvin: "Another crazy in this town," he mused. "Hello, whatever you are. My name is Dana Francis Tolvin."

Callum: Like Prospero, Jolly Roger couldn't see Dana but he definitely knew he was there. And being the ever-inquisitive puppy, he gave the area a sniff and looked for something tangible to bark at.

Tolvin: "This is ridiculous." The frustration slowly began to return. "What's the point of this if I can't do anything worthwhile?!"

Callum: Jolly Roger tilted his head as the air began to change again. He whined softly and nudged the mass of air he judged to be Tolvin.

Tolvin: Tolvin was too busy studying the dark-haired man in front of him, seemingly oblivious of his anger. Fingers were snapped in his face, hand waved over his eyes. Nothing.

"Fucking Christ."

Callum: Not exactly nothing.

While it was true Callum couldn't see or hear the spirit in his backyard, he could definitely feel it. Or rather, he--and the Mark on his arm--could feel its emotions.

So as Tolvin exclaimed his frustrations, Callum flinched, putting Prospero down so he could rub his now tingling arm.

Tolvin: The man ignorant of his guest's nearness seemed suddenly nervous. Maybe...Maybe this was progress. What did that stranger say a day ago? He thought of Logan and Luke, the beautiful Ls of his life and directed his emotion towards neediness, determination and heartache. He focused his eyes in the man in front of him.

The flower by Callum's foot swelled with bloom and died in a delicate combustion of shredded petals.

Callum: Even if he'd written off the prickle in his Druid Mark as a fluke because of the supernatural energy in the air, there was absolutely no mistaking the influx of emotion Callum was picking up on and all but feeling as his own.

There was definitely a restless spirit in his yard and that person was hurting and frustrated and seemed to have a very strong will.

Callum took a deep breath, nodding at the spot his pets were still looking at. "I can feel it," he said softly, absently rubbing his arm as he watched a moonflower bloom and die. "I can feel it, mate."

Tolvin: He felt it? What did that mean when Logan, when Luke - No. Luke had felt something. They'd believed it to be something like a hex. What was he meant to do with this information?

"Can you hear me?"

Callum: He couldn't, but he was now making a conscious effort to see or hear the person in front of him. He opened himself to his magic, eyes glowing electric blue as he let it flood him and heighten his senses.

"Try to pet the dog. I want to see if I can see you move."

Tolvin: "Pet the dog..." The giant shaggy thing? He reached out, paused his hand in front of the animal as though to allow it to sniff. For a moment he felt ridiculous. Nothing left but to attempt the request. Clearly, this man was not human.

Callum: As soon as Jolly Roger heard the word 'pet' he started wagging his tail so hard his entire body was shaking, making Callum laugh and momentarily lightening the situation.

A laugh that abruptly died on his lips as he caught...some type of movement above the puppy's head. It wasn't an apparition or anything solid, it was...like those shadows you saw at the bottom of a lake or a shadow moving in fog.

Callum: "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph..."

Tolvin: "Oh, holy...shit." He began to pet the length of Jolly Roger's back. He could swear he felt his fur, but it was a memory, nothing more.

Callum: Callum didn't know if it was his lack of experience with communicating with spirts or the spirit's level of strength, but try as he might he couldn't see anything beyond those shadows. They also didn't disappear, however, so this spirit did have some power.

A thought Jolly Roger would've agreed with, since he appeared to be having the time of his life despite not being able to actually see the source of his attention.

Tolvin: "So I can damage landscape, pet a Shaggy, and make people feel strange. Wonderful. I'm the world's shittiest poltergeist." Wait a minute. He turned his attention back to the stranger. Would it feel the same? Would he remember the texture of skin? His fingers maintained their callus appearance, though they were as the rest of him, nothing more than ectoplasm. An attempt was made to cup the man's face.

Callum: As it had happened with Logan that morning on her walk home, as it was happening even now with Jolly getting petted, although Callum couldn't see the source, he felt the presence.

So when Tolvin reached out to touch his face, the resulting echo of energy tingling against his skin and damn near brushing against his facial hair made him jump.

Tolvin: "I'll be damned." How far could he take this parlor trick? That's all it seemed to be. Once the man had settled, he reached for him again. He wished this experience was with Luke, not the weekend performer from Pete's.

He placed his hand over Callum's heart.

Callum: This time it wasn't a jump or a flinch; just a single sharp inhale. Feeling that surge of energy right above one of his body's own center of energy felt a little like the descent of an airplane in its intensity.

"Jesus," he said softly, taking a deep breath. "You pack a punch for someone I can't even see clearly."

Tolvin: "I guess that's a compliment. I don't know where to go from here, mate." His hand dropped away. "I'll go disturb someone else's garden."

Callum: Callum didn't really know either, but this had sparked an inspiration to look into communing with spirits. Even though he'd never tried it out, he knew there was an aspect of Druid magic that would allow him to do so. Maybe his father knew of a spell.

"Um...would you...like some help? I could find a way for you to be able to communicate with me or whoever ye're tryin' to communicate with."

Tolvin: What was the catch? Of course he wanted this. He wanted to speak with Logan, with Luke. Someone recognizing him and meeting him halfway was too good to be true.

He placed his hand on Callum's chest again, removed it, and placed it back.

Callum: The concentration of energy had him nodding and breathing sharply again. "I'll take that a yes," he said, rubbing his chest. "Just be a wee patient, okay? Might take a bit but we'll get it done."

Tolvin: They were limited to yes and no questions. He couldn't say thank you the way he wanted to. For once he was grateful for the supernatural. Still, he couldn't stay here. He wanted to see his favorite people.

Callum: Tolvin was going to get that opportunity sooner than he thought. Or half of it at least.

Just as Jolly Roger attempted to get more pets out of their guest, Callum's phone rang.

Fishing it out of his pocket, he answered, "Hey, Luke."

Tolvin: Tolvin hesitated in his leave, watching the haze that was this man in his garden. The world was different on this side of the looking glass. It was darker, duller. For Tolvin, under elevated circumstances, he would have found it peaceful.

Callum: Whatever Luke was saying was making Callum practically sag in relief. "Yes, please," he said. "Those bloody instructions are makin' me want to tear my hair out." A pause. "All right, see you soon."

Tolvin: Well, maybe he'd stick around to see who was coming for a visit. He'd follow Callum inside.

Callum/Luke: The house was just as peaceful as it had been before Matheus' visit. The TV was on low, the lighting warm and faded a bit, and even the disaster zone that was the living room managed to have some charm to it.

Jolly Roger returned to his chair, Prospero to the door, and Callum to his pile of furniture parts. Five minutes later, a car pulled up and Luke came in.

"Jesus," he said by way of greeting, scooping up the cat. "You trying to put this thing together or destroy it bit by bit?"

"Blame the bleedin' instructions."

Tolvin: The moment Luke entered the house, the atmosphere began to thicken with new sensation. Desire churned to anger churned to lust and hopelessness.

Callum/Luke: The animals were the first to sense the change in the atmosphere; Prospero tensed in Luke's arms and Jolly Roger whined softly. The people barely reacted at all.

Callum attributed it to the spirit and Luke to the weirdness that seemed to be hanging around him lately.

Chest wrought with feeling, he joined Callum on the floor. "So, what are we making?"

"A bookshelf for the kitchen. Theoretically."

"All right, let's see that evil manual."

Tolvin: "That's it? That's all you have to talk about? You just realized there's something in your backyard and that's all you're going to say?!"

Callum/Luke: Now Luke was the one rubbing his chest. Callum's house was usually this serene little bubble but today it didn't feel any different from any other place. He could feel that visceral something in the air unnerving him, making him feel that if he just looked or listened closer he'd be able to make sense of it.

"Cal, you got any whiskey?"

"Aye, wh--are you all right, mate?"

Luke had gone very pale in a very short space of time. His breathing had even shallowed. "Yeah. Yeah, I just..." He took a deep breath. "Something's wrong, Cal. I can feel it."

Tolvin: That was what Luke seemed to be saying lately. He and Logan both felt his presence as something unnerving. Why it was different from Callum he didn't know. The wraith had yet to piece together his emotions as the source of their discomfort. Being in their presence pierced his resolute constitution.

"Luke. Luke! Look at me. Goddammit, how do you not feel me like he does?!" He would attempt the same. He tried to place his hands on Luke Graham's face.

Callum/Luke: Callum's brow furrowed in concern. "What do you mean something's wrong? Physically, emotionally?"

Luke shook his head. "No, no, I'm physically fine. Lately I've just been feeling a lot--Jesus fuck!"

He jumped as he was treated to the same sensation Callum had felt out in the garden, looking around for whatever had caused it while Callum grew even more concerned.

"What happened?!"

"Some...something touched me. I swear to God something just touched me."

Tolvin: If Tolvin could breathe, no doubt he would be panting, heart slamming in his chest with unyielding excitement to his new discovery.

"Luke... It's alright. It's just me. You..." He looked towards Callum. "You. Tell him he's okay. Tell him I'm..." What could he say? In fact, wouldn't this only prove his death, break Luke's heart? Was this man still in love with him as he had claimed?

He hesitated, backed away.

Callum/Luke: Callum felt himself sag with relief for the second time that night. "It's all right, mate, ye're all right. Stay there, I'm goin' to get you some whiskey."

"All right?" Luke repeated, looking at Callum with something between confusion and dread. "I just told you I felt something invisible touch me and you're acting like this happens every day."

"Well, no' every day but verra often when ye're a Druid." He poured the whiskey and handed it to Luke, who immediately drank half of it.

"Feel better?"

Luke nodded. "A little. What was that?"

"Apparently I've a spirit currently occupyin' my house. Or yard technically." When Luke's eyes went wide he added, "It's no' malignant, I promise. Just frustrated and a wee intense."

Tolvin: The anger which had bordered on stifling the house soon dissipated into a kind of depression one would feel during an impending flood. This man was narcotizing his emotions with whiskey. Meanwhile, what was Logan doing? They had to know. Logan had to know. It was cruel for her to live in a false hope. Still, he had to stay. He had to watch them both. How would he achieve this if she learned the truth and returned home?

Callum/Luke: "Yeah, well, I've had plenty of intense recently." Luke's tone reflected the feeling currently permeating the house.

"What do you mean?"

"It's like...something's been hanging around me. Most of the time I don't really notice it and it doesn't bother me but others..." Luke took another deep breath. "It feels like I'm feeling someone else's emotions and sometimes they're so strong it's like something's lodged in my chest and I can't breathe."

Callum's brow began to furrow again as Luke explained. There was something awfully familiar about that...

"How long has this been happenin'?"

"Um..." Luke thought for a moment. "Since the day Parker told me the troopers were giving up on finding Dana. Logan thought someone had slipped me a spell bag? I think that's what it was."

Tolvin: No. No, it wasn't that. Normally she would be right. She was a very sharp huntress, but in this she was wrong and despite the dread Tolvin felt, he placed his hand once over Callum's heart. No.

Callum/Luke: One would think that Callum would've gotten used to the sensation by now, but having the surge of energy in his chest still rendered him breathless for a few moments.

And confirmed what he'd been thinking.

"It wasn't a hex bag, Luke."

"Hex bag, that's what it was." He frowned and sipped his whiskey. "If it wasn't one of those then what was it?"

"Well, I know this might sound crazy but I think it was the spirit that's in my garden."

Tolvin: Tolvin watched for any distress in Luke's expression. Would it be depression or relief, both? Nothing? What were the stages of death and dying and did it apply here? Denial, bargaining, anger, depression, acceptance. Surely, his misplaced affection for the hunter was just that, youthful folly.

Callum/Luke: Fortunately (or unfortunately), none of those things were in Luke's expression. Just plain ol' confusion.

"So I'm...haunted? By the same person that's haunting your house?"

Callum nodded. "It's lookin' that way, aye."

"But why? I haven't come across any dead people."

Tolvin: "...If I could throw something at your blown back head I would, mate. Seriously?" He should have been angry, furious even, but instead the wraith laughed. Denial, then. Denial of the truth he must have known in his gut.

Callum/Luke: "Well...you did say this started the same day that Parker told you about the state troopers stoppin' their search for Dana Tolvin so..."

"...So, what? Just because they stopped looking for him that must mean he's dead and haunting your garden? Come on, Cal!"

"I'm no' sayin' that's what's goin' on, just that it's possible."

Tolvin: A voice of reason after so many weeks. He hadn't given up hope, but his patience had worn itself ragged.

Two touches to Callum's chest. He had to use this man's gift.

Callum/Luke: The touch to his chest proved he was right, but that brought no relief or comfort. This would destroy Luke if it wasn't handled with care and devastate him if it was.

There was no silver lining here, and even if there was, Luke was having none of it.

"No it isn't! Dana isn't dead!"

"Then why haven't they found him, Luke?" Callum asked gently. "Brett and Peabody have been lookin' for weeks and there's no sign of him anywhere."

Tolvin: What could he do? Remind him of his presence. Perhaps not the best idea, but it felt logical and for once he existed in a sense of calm.

He reached for Luke again, reached for his cheek.

Callum/Luke: Luke had no answer to Callum's question despite the fact that something inside him knew Callum was right. Hell, Logan had already accepted it and her grief was so strong that she only left her house to go to mass and pray for Dana's soul. And maybe that's why he clung to hope so fiercely.

Giving it up would mean Dana was really gone, and that he'd be dragged under by that same gut-wrenching grief for the man he loved.

A man that--if Callum was right--was touching his face right now.

"People don't just vanish into thin air, Cal," he said, startling just as before (though more mildly). "If he was dead, and that's a big fucking if, they would've found his body. The blood isn't enough to prove he's dead."

"All right, true enough. But the amount of it leads to only one conclusion and that conclusion wasn't just pulled out o' thin air. There's biological fact backin' it up."

Tolvin: The sensation transferred from his face to his shoulders, chest and back. Embracing something that wasn't of his realm was tricky. It was like miming a hug. He knew Luke could feel sensation, but nothing solid. It had to be enough.

Luke: The air wasn't thick with emotions that weren't his as it had been a few moments ago, but the whisper of imaginary contact across his skin was making his chest hurt just as badly.

It was like whoever was in the room with them was trying to comfort him, and that comfort felt like it was confirming everything Callum was saying.

"I can't give up on him, Cal," Luke said softly, staring at the cat in his lap. "I just can't. I love him."

Tolvin: "What does that mean, Luke? Talk to me. Just acknowledge me! I can have a conversation with this stranger, I should be able to with you!"

Callum/Luke: Callum sighed. He wouldn't get through to Luke today. More time was needed. "I know, mate. I know."

Luke nodded. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks."

Once alone, Luke leaned back against the door and took a deep breath that was a lot shakier than he cared to admit.

Tolvin: Tolvin remained in the living room, observing the world through a gray and sepia filter. He had no intention of giving up, but for now, stalemate.

Luke: Luke could practically feel his resolve slipping and it was for the worst possible reason.

"Do you know how much I've wished that you'd want to touch me?" he whispered to the air, closing his eyes. "And now when you might be gone you finally..." He shook his head. "You're a bastard, Dana."

Tolvin: The living room wasn't where he wanted to be, but what else? To watch Logan pray for the hundredth time? He wanted to wallow in anger but Luke had an opportunity to learn more and share his discovery with his sister.

He began to pace the length of the house.

Callum/Luke: Luke returned to the living room a few minutes later, eyes faintly red and a little swollen.

It was obvious he'd been crying but Callum wasn't going to offer any comment other than, "You okay?"

Luke nodded. "I'm fine. Let's build this bookshelf."

Tolvin: Halfway through their assembly, the air thinned. The stifling air which had bombarded them with raw emotion lessened. The burden which had sat beside Luke for the past twenty minutes had decided to abandon the house.

Callum/Luke: It was the lightening of the atmosphere throughout the house that prompted Callum to ask, "I know there's no solid proof yet, but...are you goin' to tell Logan?"

"That her brother might be haunting your garden?" A shelf was slotted into place. "I think I have to." And another. "I'll go see her soon. Was gonna take her groceries anyway."

Tolvin: Tolvin knew what he'd been doing, though he actively avoided the thoughts, he further avoided Logan Riley. He'd never been as faithful and devoted to prayer, to believing in the cross she wore around her neck. He'd believed in their work, but that's all I had ever been about. He didn't want to watch her pray, but he was going home anyway.