#metzli: eat fresh

[magmahearts]

TIMING: current PARTIES: @muertarte & @magmahearts SUMMARY: cass holds metzli to their deal. it might not be the worst thing in the world. CONTENT WARNINGS: mentions of past child abuse

She shouldn’t be doing this. On some level, Cass knew that. Sure, fae bound people to their words all the time — Cass even did it herself, when she had to — but this kind of promise was particularly dangerous. Kuma’s fate was still fresh in her mind, still something she was trying to figure out how to justify. Was this a thing heroes did? She couldn’t imagine Captain America doing anything like this. But… it wasn’t like she had a ton of options, did she? People didn’t exactly stick around for Cass. Kuma was proof that even when they were bound to, they might decide she wasn’t worth it. And she was so sick and tired of not being worth it. She was done with it. 

So… so she’d bound someone else. So what? It wasn’t like she was going to hurt them, or make them do anything bad. She wouldn’t do anything like that. She wasn’t that kind of a person. 

But she could use lunch. And she was pretty broke. And asking Metzli to bring her a sandwich was, all things considered, the tamest use of a bind. There was definitely no way anyone could get hurt from this. Right? 

Cass glanced up at the approaching footsteps, flashing a bright grin. “What kind did you get? Ham?”

Frustration fueled Metzli’s gait as they approached the girl sitting, proud grin plastered over her face. They had half a mind to rip it off of her and shove it down her throat, but that, Honey had notified them, was out of the question. Fae binds weren’t something Metzli was familiar with, and they were kicking themself for not listening more intently to Honey’s ramblings about them. Besides a fae themself, she knew the most about them, it seemed.

If they had just listened, they wouldn’t have made what they thought was a petulant promise a child needed to feel better. And why were they trying to do that anyway? She didn’t matter to them, and nothing in the world really had any type of meaning. Not one Metzli could find at least. They supposed they saw a bit of themself in the pixels of her messages, a quiet cry for help that no one bothered to listen to when everyone seemed to run their damn mouths all the time. It wouldn’t happen again though. They’d be sure of it once they made her let them go. 

“You said you wanted the ham. I got ham.” Metzli hissed with a monotone voice. They gripped their umbrella tightly and closed the distance between the two, throwing the sandwich bag at Cass. “There you go. Now release me, girl.” Their neutral face flashed a hint of irritation, and they snapped their fingers to speed her up. 

It was clear that Metzli wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but Cass was sure they’d warm up to it as time went on. Sure, she might not be the kind of person anyone ever stuck around for on purpose, but she could still bring something to the table. She’d gotten a Netflix login from the last person who’d thanked her, and while she didn’t exactly have a computer or smart TV in her cave, she could totally log it in on Metzli’s TV if they wanted her to. It wasn’t like she was offering nothing here! 

So, Metzli needed some time to warm up. So what? They’d get there eventually. Considering the promise they’d made, they kind of had to. It hadn’t worked out with Kuma, but she’d be more careful this time. She’d make sure to be less demanding, less clingy, less… her. If she put on a good enough act, if she pretended to be someone worth being, Metzli would fall for it. Cass might not be able to lie, but she could twist the truth into what she needed it to be. She could twist herself into what she needed to be. She could do that.

Her smile faltered a little at Metzli’s tone, but she recovered quickly, catching the sandwich and tearing it open a little too quickly. It’d been a while since she’d gotten a meal that wasn’t found in a dumpster or scavenged from the woods. Which was fine, those things were fine, but she was a little hungry. She scarfed down the sandwich quickly, barely taking time to chew, and was finished by the time Metzli finished speaking again. Furrowing her brow, she looked up at them. “But that wasn’t the promise. I never said I’d release you for the sandwich.”

Eerily, Metzli tilted their head curiously at Cass. She ate as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in months, further shaping an image of a version of Metzli that was long in the past. Her need for their promise was becoming abundantly clear, but the vampire could be no parent and they had no desire to be. They had enough trouble being a friend, and it was only a matter of time until Cass saw just how incapable they truly were. 

Metzli sighed, growing uncomfortable with the heat surrounding them and their umbrella. A fiery demise wasn’t exactly what they had in mind for that day, but it wasn’t out of the question. The more they thought about it, the more they liked the idea, and they almost smiled as they thought of the release. “Hmph…” Metzli absentmindedly chuckled, blinking to themself so they could refocus on the nuisance in front of them.

“Okay. Fine. Pues, is my job right now done?” They paused, crouching to meet Cass’s eyeline. “Or are you going to work me like dog?” Metzli tutted, slightly proud at how good their English was getting. There was still a mistake, but it was better nonetheless. 

If Cass was aware of Metzli’s eyes on her as she ate, she made no mention of it. She’d spent so much of her life being ignored that she rarely worried about being noticed now. No one had ever said anything about her skinny frame or the way you could see her ribs so clearly outlined beneath her skin before, so why would they start now? If it hadn’t caused anyone to worry when she was ten, it certainly wouldn’t be cause for concern now that she was twenty. She studied the sandwich wrapper for a moment, greedily picking out the crumbs and popping them into her mouth until the paper was all that was left. It was tucked away into her pocket — later, she’d find a garbage can to throw it away in. 

Her expression shifted a little when Metzli spoke again, becoming almost… offended at the implication that she’d force them to work until they dropped. Some nymphs might, sure, but not Cass. Metzli was lucky, really, that they were learning their lesson about promises from her and not from someone crueler. 

“I’m not trying to work you,” she said, a little petulant. “I just thought maybe we could hang out. I’ve got — My place isn’t far from here. I could show you where I live, so you can drop by sometimes. Or we could go to your place? I can log my Netflix in on your TV! Have you seen Legends of Tomorrow? It’s kind of corny, but pretty good. I bet you’d like it!” Never mind that she had little idea of what Metzli might like. The oread was doing little more than grasping at straws, desperate for companionship but unsure how to earn it, even with the promise in place.

“Hang…out?” The phrase still didn’t make any sense to Metzli. No hanging ever occurred when someone asked them to do so. Other activities ensued, but never a hanging. “Hmm…” They mulled over the offer, wondering if there would still be no swaying bodies. If Cass simply wanted to spend time with them, they supposed that was fine too, but there wasn’t much to them. “Is this to…for real hang a person? Or do you mean you want to spend time with someone?” They asked, surmising it was the latter, but still hoping for something a little more macabre. Though, they didn’t really have a say thanks to the promise. 

“I ‘am not’…very good at…hanging out.” Metzli stated dryly, making air quotes for emphasis with their only hand as they’d seen others do. They did it wrong, using them on the wrong part of the statement, but they were still learning, and Honey mentioned that fae liked balance. Metzli was going to test that theory, and hoped that if they had to deal with a petulant girl, she could at least teach them a thing or two about social norms. 

Metzli, Cass was learning, was a very literal person. In a way, it was almost familiar. Plenty of the fae she’d known back home had been similarly confused by metaphorical speech, and Cass herself might fall victim to it from time to time in spite of her relatively successful attempts to ingrain herself into human culture. She thought maybe language had something to do with it. Metzli spoke with an accent, used words that weren’t English from time to time in a way that reminded Cass of some of the much older members of her former aos sí, the ones who’d refused to adhere to the new language when it changed on the island and only began to adopt English when it became abundantly clear that it was going to stay. It did mean that Cass knew how to navigate such a barrier, though. The aos sí had never been good for much, but at least they’d given her the necessary tools to do that.

“No actual hanging, no,” she confirmed, shaking her head. “Just spending time. You don’t have to be good at it or anything.” She paused for a moment, considering her options before adding, “I just don’t really like to be alone sometimes.” Forthcoming in a way she usually wasn’t, but if she wanted to make Metzli her friend — and given the fact that they were, like, the only one she’d managed to bind into a meaningful promise so far, she did — there was going to need to be some kind of give and take. “I can show you my comic books, if you want. You’d probably like Batman.” All dark and brooding. It totally fit Metzli’s vibe. 

Cass didn’t like being alone. That awful truth made something ache inside them somehow and Metzli’s eyes widened minutely, hardly changing from their neutral expression. But, as quickly as that sensation surfaced, it was gone, and all the vampire was left with was confusion. Cass’s honesty, while admirable, shouldn’t have mattered to Metzli, yet it began to. 

Loneliness was a good thing. It wasn’t meant to ignite pain. Having nothing and being nothing, Metzli learned, was happiness. In a world where nothing held meaning, it only made sense to live that way. Be just as the world ran. For Cass though, that didn’t come so easily, further baffling them. But why? Were their beliefs wrong? Was she a version of what they had been when they were human? Is that why the embers from their ignited heart burned instead of warming them like it had around Honey’s affections? 

Blinking the bewilderment and flurry of thoughts away, Metzli nodded once. “Fine.” They finally agreed, dryly. “Show me your books on Manbat.”

It wasn’t like being alone was a new thing. Cass had been alone all her life. From the rejection of her aos sí, where she’d found herself neglected at best. (And at worst? It was best not to think about.) After they expelled her entirely, life had become a series of ‘survival of the fittest’ situations in which Cass managed to make it out the other side through luck alone. Companionship had been nearly impossible to pin down, and even harder to keep. Being alone was familiar.

She hated it anyway.

It was a stupid thing to hate, she knew. You had to learn to enjoy your own company sooner or later, but Cass hated her own company. There were few people in the world she wanted to be around less than herself. It made it easy to understand why no one ever stuck around for long, even if it didn’t make it any easier when they left. But things were different with Metzli; Metzli couldn’t leave. And they’d be better about it than Kuma had, wouldn’t they? They weren’t human, so they knew how things like this worked. They knew the potential consequences. Maybe Cass wasn’t the kind of person anyone would ever want to hang out with without something forcing their hand, but surely her company was better than the consequences of a broken promise bind, right?

She grinned when Metzli agreed to look at her comics, bouncing on her heels. “Batman,” she corrected, already turning to lead the vampire back towards her cave. “Manbat’s a totally different character. He’s ugly.”

With an annoyed roll of their eyes, Metzli gripped their umbrella tighter and followed Cass. She obviously needed someone, especially if she was willing to spend her time with someone as inhuman as Metzli. Sure, they weren’t human, but they didn’t exactly behave like them either. That humanity was stripped away so long ago that they couldn’t recall who they were to begin with. If they weren’t killing or exacting Eloy’s will, what good were they? Of what use were they to anyone? Metzli had faith, albeit very little, that they could be more than just the shell Eloy filled with his ideals and needs. 

“Girl,” They began, trying to get Cass’s attention. “My friend told me you are fae. There are many kind. Which are you?” Metzli usually preferred silence when it came to walks, but they needed to know more about their new companion. She could prove to be more of a danger than she let on. “And how old you are? No parent?”

She could feel Metzli moving behind her. Their footfalls on the earth, the way their toes nudged the stones. They walked lightly; Cass always liked people like that. The terrain didn’t mind if you stomped on it — rocks were sturdy things, after all — but it always seemed a little impolite not to at least walk with care. Cass’s own footfalls were light, though not as light as one might assume by looking at her. She was heavier than she looked, made of stone and magma instead of skin and bones. Her glamour could change the way she looked, but not what was underneath it. 

Glancing back as Metzli spoke, she hummed. The older nymphs in the aos sí would have cringed at the question coming from a non-fae, would have warned her never to reveal her true nature to anyone who wouldn’t fully understand it. But those nymphs hadn’t understood her, so what did they know? She didn’t have to continue following the advice of people who’d abandoned her. “I’m a nymph,” she replied, jumping up to balance on a stone for a moment before dropping back to the ground. “An oread. Back where I come from, I lived in a volcano. But there are no volcanoes here, so…” She shrugged. The mineral abnormality in Wicked’s Rest wasn’t exactly volcanic, but there was something familiar about it all the same. It was enough to satiate. 

“And I’m…” She paused a moment, wrinkling her brow. No one had ever asked her how old she was before. She didn’t know her birthday — none of the nymphs in the aos sí had ever cared enough to remember it, much less share it with her — and she’d certainly never had anyone celebrate her growing older. It would be a guess, really; she couldn’t remember the first few years of life, after all, and it was hard to pick out how old she’d been when that first fuzzy memory had formed. “Less than thirty, I think.” She was pretty sure she looked like the college students in town, and all of them were younger than thirty. The mention of a parent sent a brief look across her face, sad and uncertain and gone in a heartbeat. “No, no parents. I never really met them.” They didn’t want me, she thought, but it seemed a little pathetic to say it aloud. And dangerous, too. If Metzli knew Cass’s own parents hadn’t wanted her, maybe they’d decide the consequences of a broken promise beat hanging out with the nymph after all. “What about you? How old are you? Do you have family? You mentioned a friend, do you have a lot of those?” The questions came in quick succession. Cass found that she’d much rather talk about Metzli than herself.

An oread? Ore and…volcano…? Metzli supposed it made sense, but they didn’t really know much about volcanoes to navigate what questions to ask. They made a mental note to ask Honey to go on the Google with them and learn more. For the time being, Cass was shifting the conversation in the exact direction they were trying to avoid, using their own tactic against them. It was hard enough to talk, but now they were being inquired about a subject had little knowledge on. They hardly knew themself aside from hard facts. At least that was what she was asking for. For now. 

“I have one-hundred and sixty years. I think. Found my certificate after I died but no happy birthday.” They looked down at her, continuing to walk once she moved on from her rock. The more they watched, the more Metzli couldn’t believe she wasn’t actually a child. Below thirty seemed very correct, but it looked like neither one of them got to know her true age, and that irked the vampire. They saw more and more of themself in her and they began to recall pieces of themself that Eloy attempted to dispose of. It was both a relief and a burden.

“No family. Murdered by vampires. I turned, they did not.” Metzli arched a brow at Cass and they sucked their teeth in disapproval at her final question. It seemed so silly. “Do I look like I have many friend?” Most told them they were too cold and too weird to make any, and honestly, they thought by it was better that way. “Only one friend for me. She will not leave me alone when we meet first time, but I like her now.” They smiled absentmindedly, and they paused their walk to feel at their face until it went back to neutral. That hadn’t happened before. Smiling about someone? Honey wasn’t even there. Not wanting to dwell, Metzli moved on, looking back at Cass. “Do fae not stay in community? My friend said this too. She likes you all.”

For a vampire, Metzli didn’t seem to know much about the world. Most vampires — especially old vampires — knew better than to make promises to strangers. Cass was lucky Metzli had never gotten that lesson. If they had, there was no way they’d be hanging out with her now. And she was finding them pretty cool to hang out with. She’d met people far older than a hundred and sixty, of course; oreads tended to be long-lived, and a lot of the older fae back home were nearly a thousand. But none of them were quite like Metzli, and none of them had ever cared much for Cass. The older fae liked her even less than the younger ones did. She’d never quite understood why.

“I never celebrated mine, either,” she replied with another shrug, figuring that was probably what Metzli meant about a happy birthday. She wasn’t sure if other fae celebrated theirs or not. Even when she was living in the aos sí, she wasn’t invited to attend many celebrations. For all she knew, the others had weekly parties and decided not to tell her. It was a little depressing to admit that that wouldn’t be much of a surprise. 

She hummed sympathetically at Metzli’s story, nodding her head. “That sucks,” she offered. “I’m sorry that happened.” To never have a family was bad enough, but she thought it might be worse to have one and lose them. Maybe. It was probably one of those comparisons that was difficult to really make, since no one could properly experience both. “I don’t know. I think you’re fun to be around. And I think anybody could have a lot of friends, depending on the kind of people they meet. There’s people out there for everybody, right?” She desperately needed it to be true, because it would mean there were people out there for her, too. People who might not have to be promise-bound just to hang out with her. There were certainly people out there for Metzli, given the fond expression that came across their face as they spoke of their friend. It was clear that, whoever their friend was, they cared about her. Cass wondered what it felt like, to be cared about. “Some do,” she replied, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone. “I don’t. I used to, but…” She trailed off, shrugging. “They didn’t want me, so… Forget them, right?”

“Hmm…” Nodding simply, Metzli looked away from Cass and tilted their umbrella forward so as to obscure their view of the mirror in front of them. They needed to divert the conversation to something else, or just put an end to it. Though they weren’t sure that was likely. Cass appeared to be the type to not let the beautiful absence of sound grace her ears. Metzli was kicking themself more and more for falling into her pathetic bind. 

Sure, they were supernatural, but Eloy didn’t really take the time to teach anything other than how to fight and what happens if one doesn’t follow orders. Nothing else mattered outside their clan and the undead, especially other species. But, Metzli was discovering they had much to learn, and it was crucial that they did. They had no idea what else could be out there, right in Wicked’s Rest. It was by sheer luck alone that Cass wasn’t as dangerous as she could be. She just needed someone to pretend to care. Taking a deep breath, Metzli sighed and attempted to shake their thoughts away so they could focus on what Cass was saying next. They blinked, just barely catching her voice but not quite understanding. 

“Sucks…? Like, chupar? I—oh. Oh, that is not what you mean.” Metzli stopped again, placing the umbrella down next to them and pulling out a small pocketbook and pen, already feeling the itch the sun’s rays caused. “I should remember this.” They knelt on the ground and propped the book on their knee to scribble a note, careful to balance since they only had one hand to use. Without even trying, Cass was already proving to be helpful. Metzli was beginning to think being forced to spend time with her wouldn’t be so bad, and could actually prove to be beneficial for both of them. They could learn the language better and she could have company. A balanced exchange. “Do is say ‘appreciate’ instead if I am happy with information you give?”

Cass glanced back as Metzli’s footfalls paused behind her, a little surprised to see that they’d lowered their umbrella. The sun was bad for vampires, wasn’t it? She wasn’t exactly an expert on other species — the aos sí hadn’t really taught her much, and the group she’d run with briefly after being cast out hadn’t been much more forthcoming — but she’d picked up on a few things here and there. Some were obvious and easy to find out, like werewolves and the full moon. Others were a little more difficult to unpack, like sirens and mirrors. But vampires and the sun? That was, like, classic storytelling, and there was usually some truth in the classics. Plus, Metzli wouldn’t have brought an umbrella if they didn’t need it. They didn’t strike Cass as the type to want to make a fashion statement.

“You don’t have to write things down,” she said. “I can just remind you, you know. Or, like, I can write it for you.” If she made herself useful enough, maybe Metzli would want to stay even without the promise. It seemed like a pipe dream, like some impossible thing, but she could try, couldn’t she? And if it failed, it wouldn’t matter because the promise would still be there. It definitely made a pretty good safety net. 

Luckily, there were plenty of ways to be useful. Not in the ways that group after the aos sí had wanted her to be, not in any of the ways that made her stomach turn, but in easier ways. Metzli didn’t know much about the supernatural world. Cass knew enough to get by. She could make something of that. She could make it matter. “Sure, you could say ‘appreciated.’ I don’t think anybody can bind you with that. Definitely don’t say ‘I owe you one,’ though. Or ‘thank you,’ but you probably knew that one. The safest thing is to just not have manners, though.” They were getting closer to the cave now, the faint scent of sulfur rising up from the nearby presence of the mineral anomaly. The entrance to the cave was pretty well hidden; most people couldn’t find it unless they knew it was there, though some people had stumbled onto it accidentally. Cass could feel the low thrum of the rocks like a second heartbeat welcoming her home. “Also, if you give me something, I can take it. So, like, ‘I give you my word,’ or ‘take my word for it’ or anything like that. And if somebody asks if they can have your name and you say it, they can take that, too.” Now that she had Metzli bound, she didn’t really need them to be in the dark anymore. It would kind of suck if another fae bound them to something, after all; then they’d have less time to hang out with Cass.

“I like to write the stuff down. I read later and practice. English is stupid and I do not understand what is not plain speak. Does not…” Metzli tutted to themself, attempting to find the right words. “Does not make sense.” They remained knelt on the ground, looking basically at eye level with Cass given both of their heights. 

Information was coming so freely then, and it was easy to get swept up in it. Habits died hard, and one of the many Eloy had gifted Metzli was listening and to not move when spoken to. It wasn’t something they inherently noticed. They were a good listener, after all. Nothing else mattered but the information they were supposed to be digesting. That was why when their skin began to burn instead of only stinging, they just chose to ignore it. They only barely flinched when Eloy ripped away their arm. A little sun was nothing in comparison. It was barely a sizzle, marked by the sound of Metzli’s skin actually sizzling, but it was hardly enough pain for them to really care. Besides, they knew they could handle at least thirty minutes before damage really began. 

“Okay,” They nodded, finally speaking when it appeared that Cass was done. “I like manners so I will keep those.” Metzli said with a look of distaste on their visage. The smell of sulfur began to irritate their nose, strong enough to force an annoyed groan past their lips. They followed the trail of the scent, toward what seemed to be a large opening. Eyes narrowed slightly, attempting to get a better image. “Girl.” They called out, “Is this home?” Metzli stood up finally, umbrella still at their side, completely forgotten and overshadowed by the smell. 

“English is kind of dumb,” Cass agreed with a shrug. It was just about the only thing the older fae back home had said that she’d ever really agreed with. Most of their views were horribly antiquated, but English? English fucking sucked sometimes. Cass had mostly picked it up from the younger fae, perfecting Hawaiian first. It had certainly been the easier of the two. English had so many stupid arbitrary rules to it. “But you don’t have to write it down, like, right this second or anything. I can tell you again when we get out of the sun.” 

As she said it, the oread moved forward slowly, closing the distance between herself and Metzli to take the umbrella and hold it over the vampire’s head. It wasn’t something she would have been able to do if they weren’t kneeling — even as it was, she had to stand on her toes and the umbrella still brushed against the top of their hair — but it was doable in this position. It was definitely preferable to listening to the sizzling of the vampire’s skin. That was something Cass had never quite gotten used to. While other nymphs didn’t mind violence towards anyone who wasn’t fae — and sometimes even promoted it — it always made Cass feel… itchy. Strange, bad, wrong. She didn’t want Metzli to suffer in any way, especially not when preventing it was simple. She gave Metzli a few moments to finish what they were writing before letting the umbrella drop again, trusting that they’d pick it back up now that their hand was no longer otherwise occupied.

Cass simply nodded as Metzli replied that they’d keep their manners. Maybe not the best decision in a town like Wicked’s Rest, but at least she’d given them the tools they’d need to try to avoid other binds. She could probably offer them advice on how to get out of binds, but… She wouldn’t risk it unless necessary. Not when the only reason Metzli wanted to hang out with them in the first place was because of the promise tying them to the ‘duty.’ At the cave’s entrance now, Cass headed inside, stopping when she realized Metzli’s footfalls hadn’t picked up again behind her. Turning back, she nodded. “Yeah,” she confirmed. “You can’t see it really well from the outside, but I’ve got all my stuff in there.” She motioned to the entrance of the cave, largely obscured by its surroundings but possible to make out much easier with the nymph pointing to it. “We’ll be out of the sun inside, come on!”

Metzli stared at Cass intensely as she approached them, surprised she had cared enough to mend their cover for them. She was doing them a kindness, but the reason as to why was lost on them. There had to be a stipulation. “Hmm…” Metzli nodded, pocketing their book and pen, and taking the umbrella back. At that distance, they could see just how sad and tired Cass looked. She was hungry, desperately so. Though, food wouldn’t mend the incessant pain that caused her body to curl with uncertainty, as if she was protesting every one-two punch that life threw her way. 

Looking away, the vampire watched from their peripherals as Cass made her way to the cave. The opening wasn’t noticeable at first, but when she disappeared behind a dense thicket, Metzli was somehow able to make it out clearly. “Girl,” Their brows creased together as they walked up to the entrance, not yet crossing the boundary. “I will need invite inside. Vampire do not enter without invite.” Closing their umbrella, Metzli looked inside the supposed home. It was hardly one, to them, and their brows furrowed even more. The mirror was impossible to ignore. 

Metzli didn’t say much. Cass wondered if it was bitterness, anger at the fact that she’d bound them to be here. She wasn’t as naive as some might assume — she knew that Metzli wasn’t entirely happy with the situation. She knew that they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t have to be, knew that they never would have looked at Cass twice if Cass hadn’t forced them to do so. No one ever did. But… She could still have hope. Hope that, as time went on, Metzli might warm to the idea of friendship. That even if they would never come to like her in the way she so desperately needed to be liked, they might get to a point where they didn’t dislike her either. That would be better than what she had now, at least. Having someone was better than being alone, even if the someone you had wasn’t there by choice. 

“Oh!” She turned back to the cave, nodding her head. This did count as a private dwelling, didn’t it? And she had read about that, with vampires. It was a whole thing. She turned her body fully to face Metzli, flashing a quick grin. “Come in,” she said, hoping it was enough to count. She could make it clunkier — do the whole ‘I invite you to enter my dwelling’ thing — but it would feel a lot less natural. And Cass liked natural. “I usually hang out further back. Sometimes people find the entrance, the front part, but they don’t usually wander back too far.” And when they did, Cass tended to take some methods to scare them away. She liked people, liked company, but some things were hard to shake. She was still a nymph, even if she wasn’t a particularly good one, and that meant feeling at least a little protective over her domain. “I can show you the rest of it later, but we should probably just hang out up here for right now. People get lost, sometimes.” 

Finally given the formal invitation, Metzli stepped into the cave, accepting the shadows gratefully. Darkness was their mother, or so Honey said. She was much too poetic at times, but her statement was correct. It was why Eloy named the clan after the shadows. That was were comfort lay, where they felt most free. The silence ever a blanket of safety. No such grace was bestowed in Cass’s home though. She needed to fill it as badly as she needed to fill her heart, much to Metzli’s dismay. 

“Then it is time to show me the Batted Man, yes?” They spoke as they peered at the infinite darkness behind Cass. They could see it almost clearly, but the light behind them obscured their night vision. As much as Metzli wanted to see what was back there, they knew they had to do as Cass said. To their surprise, it wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be. Sure, they hated conversation and wished to be back home so they could stare at their wall, but her company was tame in comparison to Anita and Honey. “Where are the books of comics?”

This was a strange feeling. Cass wasn’t sure she’d ever intentionally had anyone over before, didn’t think she’d ever invited someone in vampire or no. People had visited the cave, sure, but the typical way things went was that someone found the cave and then found Cass after. She was secondary, even with something as simple as this. And that wasn’t the case this time. Metzli was here, in her home. She almost understood now why Kuma used to say she needed to tidy up any time someone was going to come by. It was like showing someone a piece of you, inviting them into the place where you lived. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. 

“Batman,” she corrected absently, though her tone was kind. Metzli might not understand pop culture yet, but they had a great guide. There were a lot of things Cass still didn’t quite get, especially in the human world, but superhero media made sense to her. There were heroes, in bright and colorful outfits. They tossed out clever one-liners and they saved the day, and sometimes people were afraid of them but they were still good. And there were villains, dark and scary but easy to identify. They tried to hurt people, but they failed in the end. The heroes won, every time. There was some comfort in that. “I’ll go grab them,” she said, because the comics she’d stolen from Kuma’s empty house were stashed away with other things she’d taken from the same location, and there were questions she didn’t want to answer. “You wait here! I’ll be right back.” Giving Metzli no time to argue, the nymph took off further into the cave, moving deftly through the darkness. She didn’t really need to see; in her cave, she could find her way around by feel alone.

“Hmph…” Was the only sound Metzli made in response. Cass was soon swallowed by the darkness, leaving the vampire to stand there and wait. Now that was the best part of this ‘hanging out’ so far. Without all the noise, Metzli was finally able to see the appeal of the cave. It was remote enough to have a veil of safety, but close enough to town that she could venture in whenever she needed to seek out company. The latter made Metzli recoil and grimace, and they opted to admiring the texture and patterns of the cave walls to pass some time. It only took a matter of seconds for their attention to dart back to their mind. 

They figured it likely wouldn’t be long before Cass returned but they retrieved their pocket sketchbook and sat down on the cold stone. Metzli dragged their pencil over paper, combining lines and shapes until a face began to form. The button nose, apple cheeks, and almond shaped eyes were the first to render. Then came the hair and the ears, ending with the eyebrows and a finite line placed with a practiced hand at the base of the neck. From memory, Metzli sketched Cass near-perfectly. A few details were a little askew since they had just met her, but it was easy to recognize who it was. They almost smiled then, happy with the opportunity to create, but they kept their expression neutral when Cass returned. Without saying a word, they ripped out the page and held it out for her to take. “For you. Do not overreact. Please.”

Bouncing a little, Cass wound her way through the cave. The tunnels were like something of a maze; it was no wonder that there were a few rotting bodies of hikers and spelunkers who’d gotten lost and never found their way back out again. Cass skipped past the old bones of one such unfortunate soul before darting off into another hallway, until she’d finally made it to the opening where she stored her comics. She knelt down beside the box, flipping through the covers. Metzli wouldn’t like that one. The art in that one sucked. That one was okay, but you needed to read, like, six more to really understand it. Finally, she found a handful she thought would suffice and gathered them into her arms, ducking out of the chamber and back into the twisting passageways of the cave.

She made her way back to Metzli in record time, finding them right where she’d left them with a look of concentration on their face. She watched from the shadows for a moment, not yet making her presence known. There was half a second where she thought the vampire might smile, but the notion seemed to vanish as quickly as it appeared. It was then that Cass finally reentered the main opening of the cave, comics in hand. She blinked as Metzli ripped a page from their book, stepping forward curiously. They told her not to overreact and, ever eager to please, to prove that she could be worth caring about if only given the chance, the nymph worked to school her features. It was hard. Her chest felt so warm that she was a little worried her glamour might fail beneath the magma, and she couldn't keep her hand from trembling as she reached out to take the paper. A drawing. Of her. Cass thought she might burst. “I love it,” she said quietly. It was the closest she’d come to accidentally thanking someone in years. “You’re a really good artist.” 

Emotion likes waves of the ocean reigned in, casting over Cass’s face. Flowing in powerfully, and receding just as quickly. Much to Metzli’s relief, there was no overwhelming reaction to be dampened. They never knew what to do in those scenarios, especially with their hands. It was either standing there awkwardly or back away, and they tended to avoid the former. The reaction to that was arguably worse. Dios, the yelling and frustration when someone felt disregarded was enough to cause Metzli’s own panic. 

Thankfully, there was no such thing occurring with Cass. She chose to listen, causing their brows to raise for a moment in surprise. Then, she complimented them, sparking some sort of feeling that immediately fell into the void. As all emotion did for them. Regardless, Metzli smiled—or rather, smiled in their own way. Their face remained completely neutral, yet they described it differently. 

“Your compliment is nice. Made me smile.” They paused, avoiding Cass’s eyes. “I have gallery and am an artist. Am supposed to be good.” Once the drawing was in Cass’s hand, Metzli put away their sketchbook and looked back to the fae, straightening their posture. The way she was looking at them began to unsettle them. It was too sweet, too…hopeful. Of all people, Metzli knew they weren’t one to have faith in. They were nothing, barely able to connect. Putting them in a bind would prove to be a mistake soon enough. 

She held the paper like a precious thing, careful not to bend or fold it. She’d have to find somewhere safe to keep it. The cave, as much as she adored it, was moist and humid in a way that wouldn’t do well for the sketchbook page in her hand. She may be able to preserve it a bit longer if she tucked it away between the pages of one of the comicbooks, but it would only be a temporary solution. Maybe she’d ‘acquire’ some kind of a frame for it. That was a thing people did, wasn’t it? They framed things and hung them up on walls. There were plenty of rocks along the cave walls that would work well enough as shelves, if she chose to use them as such. 

Carefully, Cass allowed herself to look back to Metzli. She was worried if she looked at them too long, the feelings in her chest might burst through, might cause that ‘overreaction’ Metzli had warned her against. And she didn’t want that. She wanted Metzli to like her. She wanted to be the kind of person they could like. So she only let herself meet their eye for a moment before looking away again, locking her gaze to a spot on the wall across the ‘room.’ 

“I’m glad,” she said, offering a smile of her own and working to make sure it wasn’t too wide. “I wanted to.” She glanced back involuntarily at the mention of a gallery, excitement thrumming in her chest. Was Metzli inviting her to something? It was difficult to tell, and she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it seemed like the beginning of… something. “Maybe I could come by sometime,” she said, testing the waters hesitantly. “I’d love to see more of your work. I like art.” It was true, though it came with another truth that she hadn’t said aloud: she didn’t understand it. People always described the way art made them feel, and Cass had yet to have such a moment of tranquility while staring at a painting. She liked comic books, but that was because of the story. She liked the sketch in her hand, but that was because it was the first time anyone had ever done something that was just for her. Maybe she’d like Metzli’s art because she liked Metzli. Maybe she’d finally understand what people meant when they talked about art when she was standing in the gallery of someone she hoped to make her friend. “What kind of gallery is it? Paintings? Statues?” She was a little proud of herself for remembering that humans — and species that had once been human, it seemed — liked to display different kinds of art. She’d only really heard it spoken about once, in passing, by a stranger in a cafe, but she had a habit of latching on to information gleaned from strangers’ conversations. It came in handy. When people didn’t talk to you directly most of the time, it was pretty much the only way she knew how to learn anything.

There was something bristling beneath Cass’s skin, as if she was holding something back. Years—decades of being seen and not heard had aided Metzli in honing the skill of observation. A mouthful of silence tended to lead to a head full of unwanted secrets, and in that moment, they were getting intel on Cass. She wanted to react, wanted to show her appreciation in an explosive way. The more that Metzli looked at her, the more they could see how Cass attempted to end the spark on the fuse. 

They huffed to themself, tapping their foot anxiously as they realized what the two things they needed to do. Neither were options they wanted, and knew they’d regret. But…Metzli couldn’t ignore the reflection of a past so desperate and sad. They were right there, and needed somebody—anybody. The undertones of words slipping through clenched teeth screamed so loud and Metzli was the only one listening. They were always the only one listening. 

“Girl!” The word came out sudden and forlorn, a stark contrast to the usual robotic and dead tone. Metzli looked down at Cass and resigned themself to a decision they knew couldn’t be avoided. If they wanted to destroy the soldier Eloy had created, to undo what their parents had done, they had to start at the beginning. Maybe neither of them didn’t have any meaning, and maybe it would be pointless in the end, but Metzli still wanted to try. Still wanted to see a different outcome. “First, I take you to the gallery and show you the exhibits. Okay? Do not react.” Their fists curled as their whole body tensed for the next part. The one where they told Cass to disregard what they had just said. “Second, you can react however you want—but…” They tensed their hand through their hair, preparing, “Only for seven second. No hug. No touch. Okay?”

Metzli’s voice was sudden, filling the cave all at once. Part of Cass had to hold back a wince at it, too many memories of sudden voices and sudden violence that followed. But Metzli wasn’t like any of the people Cass had known before, and she knew that. There was a moment of anxiety, a quick uptick in the pounding in her chest, but there was only a moment. She’d already decided she trusted Metzli. And Cass wasn’t one to go back on trusting someone unless they’d really earned it. 

Carefully, she continued to school her expression as Metzli said they’d take her to the gallery. It wasn’t quite a promise — Cass couldn’t bind them to it — but it was about as close as things got without crossing the line. And she believed them, anyway. She nodded, maintaining her version of stoic. It wasn’t very convincing. “I would like that,” she said, slow and careful to keep from breaking the rule of no reaction. If this was who Metzli wanted her to be, she was going to have to get better at being it. She’d practice in the cave after they parted ways today, stare at her reflection in the cave’s puddles until she could smooth it down into something a little… less. 

But… then Metzli got to the second thing. Gave permission to react in whatever way Cass wanted to react. And in spite of that trust she felt for the vampire, Cass hesitated. Metzli might say she was allowed to react however she wanted, but did they mean it? Could they handle it? Everyone Cass had ever tried to get close to had found her too difficult to stick around for long, too much of herself to ever be something worth keeping. Her parents hadn’t even tried, and the fae who’d taken her in after their departure had made it so abundantly clear that Cass, when she was being herself, was not an easy person to love. And it wasn’t as if they could lie about that, was it? So she paused, the hand not holding the sketch Metzli had given her clenched into a fist so tight that her fingernails dug deep into the palms of her hands. “That’s okay,” she said carefully. “I don’t need to.” 

Hesitation was written over Cass’s face, uncertainty that came with the transgressions of others. She was holding back. For what, Metzli didn’t know, but they didn’t like it. They could feel the tension in her body taking the whole room, and they sighed. She couldn’t find her voice in fear of theirs. Funny thing was, Metzli barely had a voice of their own. In that, the two were equal. Both of their worlds attempted to drive out the one thing that was supposed to be most intimately theirs, and Metzli would be a hypocrite to let the thumb pressing Cass against the floor to continue to crush her. 

“Do it, girl” Metzli beckoned, a hint of agitation permeating onto their breath. They had half a mind to compel her to do what she felt but that would make them as bad as Eloy, and the situation they were in wasn’t an emergency. “If you are happy, be it. Be you...” They paused, standing even taller. “Be you, idiot.” Metzli allowed a corner of their lips to curl ever so slightly at that, and they leaned forward, brow arched as they waited patiently for Cass’s response. 

She would be wise to allow herself to be honest with her feelings, to present herself wholly and fully. Despite being unable to completely feel their emotions or understand themself, Metzli knew this at their core. If there was no sincerity in her actions, then every smile will inevitably be a forgery so good that she fools herself. Maybe even Metzli, too. They hoped they wouldn’t fall for that. Their attention to detail was a little too good for such facades. Or so they hoped. Whatever the case, they waited for the illusion to dissipate so that Cass could let it all out. Well, whatever seven seconds would allow, at least.

There was some part of her, deep down, that wondered if it might be a trap. If Metzli was trying to convince her to be herself so they’d have an excuse to leave, just as everyone else had. Like the nymphs who’d tossed her out with the claim that she was too dangerous to love, like the people who’d left her behind the moment she stopped being useful to them, like Kuma and the love that had only been unconditional until it wasn’t. But Metzli couldn’t leave. Not without consequence. And unlike Kuma, they knew it. They knew what those consequences might be, had a friend who knew enough about fae to give them a fighting chance. They wouldn’t lay a trap knowing it would doom them just as much as it would Cass. They couldn’t. 

And there was the smile, too. Small, barely there, but present all the same. Though she’d only known them a short while, Cass knew Metzli well enough to know that this was a rare thing. Not something they’d waste to bait a trap that wouldn’t actually do them any good. Even though they had the capability to do so, Metzli wasn’t lying now. Cass could tell. 

Just like that, it was like a switch had been flipped. That excitement, poorly contained before, spilled out in a little squeal that bounced off the walls of the cave. Cass bounced on her feet, grin so wide it nearly split her face, and the thrill of excitement in her eyes shone so bright that her glamour flickered for a moment, allowing her eyes to glow the dull orange of the magma that danced beneath her skin. “This is the coolest thing ever! I can’t wait to see more of your art, it’s gonna be so cool!” 

Watching Cass react just as she wanted was like staring at the sun. Blinding and jarring in all the worst ways. And to make matters worse, Metzli wasn’t allowed to look away. Not when they were the one who told her to let it out. As horrible as it was, it was a relief to see that they didn’t reflect the damage they had been given. Rather, they were a reflection of what the treat they had yearned for.  But god, did it have to incite such a loud reaction? 

Metzli stood stoically and waited for Cass to settle, and wasn't surprised when she continued. She had two seconds left, and they were happy to see the finish line. They were worried if she had been allowed any more time that she surely would have literally exploded. While Metzli didn’t necessarily care if they died, it wouldn’t exactly be convenient when they were just getting to experience more than just Eloy’s clan. 

It probably wasn’t fair to cut Cass’s reaction short, but she was given enough, Metzli thought. More than she ever had, or so they were gathering. “With that done,” They leaned in, nudging their head toward the outside of the cave with only a slight grimace from the overstimulation. “Bring your books and we go to gallery. I show you art and you show me books after, sí?”

It was strange, the way Metzli didn’t look away. Cass was a lot. She knew she was a lot. Everyone she’d ever tried to get close to had told her as much, usually unprompted. She was loud when she was supposed to be quiet, quiet when she was supposed to be loud. Most people couldn’t stand to look at her for long, and she was used to that. It sucked, but she was used to it. But Metzli wasn’t looking away, and Cass knew it was only because she’d bound them, knew that they wouldn’t be here if not for their ignorance about all things fae, knew that there was a big difference between someone choosing to look at you and someone being forced to, but it felt good anyway. 

When Metzli announced that the ‘time limit’ they’d set in place was over, Cass quickly put the mask back up, forced her excitement down as far as it would go. She liked this thing with Metzli. If she wanted to keep it, she had to play by certain rules. That was okay. There were always rules to interactions; Metzli was just nice enough to say them aloud. 

“Okay,” Cass agreed, careful not to let the excitement back into her voice. “I’ll grab my books. And you can keep some at the gallery, if you decide you like them. Just give them back when you’re done reading them, right?” She gathered the comics under her arm, tucking Metzli’s drawing in between the pages of one of the thicker ones to keep it safe. “Come on. Let’s go.” It would be hard, not being too much. But Cass could do it. She’d make sure she was worth keeping around this time. And things would be different. They had to be.

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Fury & Flesh || Coyote Exorcism || Emilio, Jude, Metzli, and Kaden

TIMING: Same time as Spirit & Bone LOCATION: The woods near Regan’s death mound PARTIES: @monstersfear, @deathbecomes-jude, @deathisanartmetzli, @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden and Jude go to Regan’s death mound while the exorcism is happening in the cabin, hoping to draw the coyotes away. Emilio and Metzli end up in the same place so they all get to meet some angry spectral coyotes.  CONTENT WARNINGS: Animal cruelty (mentioned/implied)

Emilio took a long drag from his cigarette, trudging along through the woods and keeping an ear open for nearby danger. He didn’t expect to find any. The paranoia that lived within the hunter’s chest tended to be reserved for him and him alone, uncaring of Regan’s problems or her claims that the world was out to get her. Of course, every time he’d assumed in the past that no one gave a shit about bones as much as Regan did, someone had come along to prove him wrong. Maybe eventually, Emilio would learn his lesson there.

Maybe it would be today.

He barely heard it. They were moving quietly, but not quietly enough to avoid being heard by the sharp ears of a hunter, especially not one as constantly vigilant and on edge as Emilio was. The snapping of a branch, so quiet it was barely a noise at all. Emilio stiffened, tensing as his eyes quickly swept the surrounding area to see — there. 

“Might as well come out,” he said dryly, voice carrying in the otherwise quiet forest. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

–

Jude carefully crept closer to the hut Regan was supposedly in. On their back, a large backpack full of bones weighed down on them, on their arms, dozens of runes inscribed in blood, needing just a last line to finish any number of pre-prepared spells. Both of healing and to cause wounds. They just needed to draw the attention of the shadow coyotes and bait them while the exorcist did her work. In and out, kept safe by the others, and if they failed, well… Jude had a backup sacrifice ready to go. 

As they spotted a figure roaming, they looked back to Kaden in surprise. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else here. It was the hunter that had felt the waves of death coming off Jude, Emilio. Hopefully… it was just a coincidence, and they were just out hunting… well, the kind of beings Jude had brought with them. This could be problematic. 

Emilio turned to look at their direction, and spoke into the woods. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to sense an undead presence nearby, so Jude figured they’d give him something to sense, just to drag him away if his presence was a coincidence, and to keep him occupied if it wasn’t. They wordlessly and subtly tugged at the marionette strings of their magic, and held their breath, looking to Kaden for their cue. 

Twenty feet away, a half rotten porcupine ambled through the forest, not being quiet as it snuffled for some food it didn’t need. 

–

Metzli’s hand twitched on the branch of the tree they were in, thinking that Emilio had caught them. They smiled then, seeing the stranger act on such short notice. A distraction, red-herring that they were sure wouldn’t deter the slayer. They quirked a brow in thought. It was very possible he could be swindled into thinking he didn’t survey his area correctly. After all, they’d manage to follow him even with his innate ability to sense them. Taking a deep breath, they could smell the aroma of death surrounding them, both rotten and fresh. More like dirt than putrefied flesh. Smelled like home. But they couldn’t get lost in the musings of their safe dwelling. Danger was near, and they needed to get ahead of it. 

Propelling themselves from the tree, their silhouette broke through the treeline, the moon hitting them with its glow. “You’re really lacking in the surveillance skills lately. Can’t believe you caught a dead porcupine and not me.” They landed in a crouch, with the biggest shit-eating grin they could muster. “Got anything I can break?”

–

This would work. Kaden was sure of it. It had to work. Lil would find Regan, do the exorcism, no one would explode from a banshee scream, it’d be fine. 

He had a feelling, though, that the heaping pile of carcasses that he could smell from a good half a mile away wasn’t fine. “This way,” he told Jude as they walked towards the death mound. He wasn’t sure what the deal was with this coyote spirit or what exactly it was trying to get Regan to do, but he was pretty sure if something bad was going to happen outside of the cabin that might mess shit up, it was going to happen there. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable carrying his weapons again, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was even less comfortable working with the necromancer who caused all this shit in the first place but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. “Should be–”

His words caught on his lips as he shut them tight to listen. Footsteps, small crunching leaves. He held his arm out to stop Jude from moving any farther. They stood still, but it was clear whoever or whatever was out there wasn’t walking away, but towards them. When he caught sight of who it was, he rolled his eyes. Should have known he’d be nearby. Kaden really didn’t want to hurt the guy too bad, but he was going to have no qualms kicking his ass a little after the crap he dragged Ari into. He’d buy him a drink later to make up for it, it’d be fine.

Kaden’s focus shot to the clearly once dead porcupine that was resurrected and shuffling not too far away, The ranger shot a glance at Jude and thought about punching them square in the jaw. Not yet. He needed them. That’d also have to be for later. “You. Make sure there are no other cursed bones over there,” he whispered to Jude. 

He took a deep breath and stepped out from their place behind the trees, holding his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t trying to be sneaky, connard,” he said, casually as he could manage. “What are you doing out here, any–” Just as Kaden was about to take a step forward, a figure fell from the trees above. “What the–” That was the vampire, right? Metzli. And they seemed familiar with the slayer. His brow knit as he cautiously approached, slowly reaching for the knife at his side, completely unsure what he was getting into. 

–

The snapping twigs weren’t the only thing that clued him in to another presence; there was that twitch at the back of his neck, that unmistakable sense that told him something undead was near. The problem, of course, was the giant fucking mound of dead shit Regan had set up nearby. The first time he met her, she’d been pretty fucking set on the idea of nabbing the vampire he was fighting and taking it to her ‘death mound.’ For all Emilio knew, there were undead things buried beneath the bodies she’d collected, throwing his senses all over the place. He might have told her as much if he thought there was any possibility she’d listen.

Another branch snapped and, acting on instinct, the slayer tossed a knife in its direction, turning his head to follow the blade. It landed in front of… a fucking reanimated porcupine. Christ. What the fuck was wrong with people? He pulled another knife, ready to put the thing out of its misery, when a familiar voice sounded off from behind him. Immediately, Emilio tensed. 

The Frenchman showing up was exactly the kind of shit Regan was paranoid about. Emilio hated this town, a little, for continuing to prove her delusions about everyone being after her damn bones correct. He turned to snap something at Kaden, to start in a pointless argument where he’d tell the guy to leave, he’d refuse, and they’d punch each other until something changed, but before he could get a word out, someone else dropped down. 

This, Emilio thought, really wasn’t his night.

With Kaden on one side of him and Metzli on the other, Emilio was beginning to feel boxed in. And, like a wild animal, he didn’t take to the feeling well. He pulled out a knife in one hand, a stake in the other, and glanced wildly between the two. The distraction, though partially unintentional, was a good one; with two people to focus on, Emilio was unaware of the third presence nearby, the necromancer who was playing with his senses in the same way Metzli and that damn porcupine were.

“What, you two teaming up now?” He knew, even as he asked it, that the answer to the question was no. Kaden seemed surprised by Metzli’s presence, and Emilio doubted the ranger was a decent actor. “Leave. Both of you.” His eyes darted to Kaden. “Regan’s not here to keep me from kicking your ass this time, asshole.”

—

Jude met Kaden’s gaze without flinching, just a tiny shrug as if to ask what he expected. 

Unnoticed so far, Jude crept past the encounter, staying low and sticking as close to trees as they could. As far as they’d known, it was just Kaden and them on this, but another figure approached the group, and the tense lines in everyone’s shoulders made it clear this was no happy reunion. Jude reached the edge of the mound of corpses, nose barely wrinkling as they were almost unphased by the stench of death, and slowly slinked behind it until they were entirely hidden from the view of the trio. They smiled as they noticed a moose carcass, recently dragged onto the mound. Regan had found it on her walk after all. No cursed bones to speak of, though. 

The resurrected porcupine could have been a distraction for Emilio, but as it was no longer needed in that regard, Jude let it continue to bumble through the forest near the mound, neither interfering with the scene nor returning to them, as if it was just a visitor that was as drawn to the pile of death as much as the maggots and worms. They could barely hear the three voices as they pulled bundles of spell components out of their bag, but no one was coming closer, at once a blessing and a gift. They hurriedly arranged threads of string into runes and candles into pentacles, rats tails tied like ribbons around bone. glancing to and from their watch as the seconds ticked past. Ten seconds, fifteen. It was only through prior hours of preparation that the spell came together as quickly as it did. 

Technically, they’d agreed that damaging the mound would be enough to draw out the coyotes. If this had gone without a hitch, they might have stuck with that, them and Kaden punching a hole through some skulls. But there were two unknowns involved now, and Kaden was occupied with them. Jude could use another ally on their side, and they were out of time. The exorcism was due to start.

This cheap semblance of animation didn’t require any real sacrifice more than what had already been made in preparing the bundled spell components. All Jude had to do was thrust their hand in the decaying viscera of a nearby fox and drain the life out of a hundred freshly hatched maggots. White light crackled through the mound of decay. 

Bones of the moose began to assemble like grizzle covered parts of a lego toy. 

–

Just as quickly as they showed up, so too did other parties. Metzli didn’t like surprises, the sudden shift prompting them to unlatch their holster and pull their knife out in one swift motion. Kaden was with the stranger they’d already spotted and of course the two hunters knew one another. Murderers always ran in the same circles. Was why Metzli knew both of them in the first place. “Like hell I’d team up with this shitty hunter. He couldn’t kick my ass on a good day and I’d kick his now if I could.” Pulling the knife from Kaden, they steadied it closer to their body. Just in case. “But, I’m playing nice since he’s buddy-buddy with Macleod.” They blew a raspberry, and waved Kaden away in hopes of giving everyone some distance.

“I take it you two have tangoed with each other.” Eyes shifted between the two in amusement, and they bit their lip to stifle a laugh. If there was more time, Metzli would’ve taken the opportunity to pick on both, but they didn’t. They managed to break two bones, and while the vampire didn’t know much about anatomy, they knew there were definitely more than two bones in a skeleton. “Well, that’s the least of my problems. Emilio, whatever you’re protecting, I need it. And I won’t take no for an answer.” Rolling their eyes with a smile, they landed and stopped on Jude. Every note off of them reeked of magic—of a type of necromancy. Something they had just experienced themself. Only, this mocked death, and even the lives of creatures who once held breath in their lungs. It was like they were spitting on them. 

Sucking their teeth, Metzli dropped their knife to their side and backed away from everyone. Whatever was happening, they needed space to ensure they could assess properly. Especially with their impulsive need to annoy. Not even their soul could change that. “Ay! Tú,” Pointing a finger at Jude, they peered around Kaden and narrowed their eyes suspiciously. “Why are you messing with that pobre moose?”

–

“Putain, teaming up?” Kaden didn’t have a chance to be insulted before there was a knife held up towards him. From the vampire. Who was sporting one less arm than the last time he’d seen them. The ranger’s head tilted as he paused instead of slapping the weapon out of his face. They did have both arms the last time he saw them, right? It had been dark and all, but he was pretty damn sure. “Hey!” he shouted back as Metzli insulted him, pulling his own knife out, ready to go. “I could take you in a second, connard. I was just being gracious that time in the alley, got i– Wait?” His hand dropped slightly at the familiar name. “You know Macleod?” Huh. Guess this was a small town. Weirder yet was the thought that Macleod actually referred to him in any manner that was favorable. Kaden liked her well enough but he just assumed she didn’t care that much for him overall. Huh. Guess that was nice. 

The nice feelings didn’t last very long. “Tangoed?” Kaden huffed out a laugh. “If you mean he tried to break into my fucking apartment for a goddamn bone, sure, yeah, we tangoed.” Kaden wasn’t sure who he was looking forward to decking first. Did the plan involve him punching anyone? No, not necessarily. He still planned to all the same. “Wait, you think I need her help? Putain de merde, if anyone needed her help it was you.” Yeah, he was definitely throwing punches before this was over. “I’m not leaving. You lea–”

His focus shifted as his head turned back towards Jude and the very dead moose that was somehow back on all fours. Kaden’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the necromancer. They were on the same side. They were on the same side. If he kept saying that, maybe he’d remember that. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing with that moose yet, but he knew he didn’t want to be on the other side of those antlers. He had to work with the necromancer who tortured animals. He had to work with them. For now. 

A scream pierced through the clearing, all the way from the cabin. Kaden winced, the sound pounding in his ears. They were a half a mile off from the cabin. The scream had to be loud. Regan was in trouble. A pit sunk in his stomach, instincts telling him to turn and run towards the sound. No, no. Regan wasn’t in trouble. The coyote was. He hoped. He had to help here. He had to make sure Emilio didn’t interrupt. And with the shock of the scream, he figured he had a second. A second that he took to grab Emilio closer and slam his fist into the slayer’s jaw. Now who needed Regan’s help?

–

If the look on Metzli’s face and the knife in their hand were anything to go by, they weren’t working with Kaden. Unfortunately, that didn’t exactly make them an ally, either. Emilio knew the vampire was here with one goal in mind, just as they had been at the cabin when they’d broken those damn bones and left him floundering. There was no version of this story that ended well for him; there never was. Kaden and Metzli might not have come here together, but it was clear they were on the same side nonetheless. And that side was the one that was going to fuck up Emilio’s life over some goddamn bones. Christ. He should’ve left this town when he had the fucking chance. 

“If you weren’t a stubborn fucking ass too obsessed with his ex to let go of a couple of worthless goddamn bones, I wouldn’t have had to break in,” he protested, as if Kaden was somehow wrong to be upset here. Emilio knew he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on in this particular argument, but he was stubborn and angry and stupid enough to argue anyway. He usually was. “I can’t leave, you stupid — “

He broke off as Metzli shouted at something behind them, whirled around to look with the hand holding the knife at the ready. His attention was split three ways now, and in spite of the magic causing its own kind of a distraction, he didn’t have to squint to recognize the third figure in the circle. “Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Who else was going to come out of the woodwork here? The guy he’d punched at the bar? The aquarium security guard? Levi? It was like a fucking class reunion of Emilio’s recent physical altercations. 

And then — a scream from the cabin. Emilio whirled around, going against instinct and turning his back on all three of the ‘enemies’ in his vicinity to look back in the direction of the cabin instead. Regan was screaming, which meant Regan was in trouble. Which meant, as per the fucking promise he was tied up in, Emilio needed to go. The crowd here was a distraction; he should have realized it sooner.

He only managed half a step towards the cabin before Kaden yanked him close enough to throw a punch, landing his knuckles against the side of Emilio’s face with enough force to cause the slayer to stumble backwards. That faint but still present self preservation instinct told him to take off towards the cabin, but as usual, the anger that burned in his chest was a little hotter. He took a swing at Kaden, no thought going into the action at all. The knife had been dropped, though it was hard to say if it was an intentional move to keep him from accidentally stabbing a guy he didn’t actually want to stab or a happy accident. He wasn’t really considering it. The only thing on his mind was how much he wanted to hit Kaden in the fucking face. As soon as the ranger had a bruise on his jaw to match the one on Emilio’s, he could take off towards the cabin and figure out how to stop whatever was going on with Regan. His priorities were just fine, as always.

—

Jude swayed from the exertion of the spell, and looked over at the group as one of them addressed Jude in Spanish. They cocked an eyebrow. “Making friends!” They replied, trying to meet Kaden’s eyes. Every second that this spell kept the moose animated, the coyotes were more and more of a risk. And with as many coyotes due as they suspected were coming, they needed Kaden here. Their moose was a glass cannon, and the porcupine wasn’t what anyone would call agile. They met his narrowed eyes, and pursed their lips. He’d have to get over it. Once the medical examiner was free, they’d meet whatever youthful judgement they were owed then. 

Before the coyotes came the scream. Loud and piercing, as if it was someone right beside them. Jude spun on the mound, but there was no one there. Another ghost, maybe? In their pocket was a pouch of salt that they wielded in front of them, swinging it firmly around, but any ghost made no appearance. 

The scream also roused a response from the group, but unlike Jude, they seemed to recognise it immediately, a thought that made their stomach drop. They watched Emilio try to leave, Kaden take a swing at his face, and wondered where the third one stood. Hopefully, with them. 

As the fist fest began, the air temperature around Jude began to drop, and apparitions began to appear around them. One, after another after another. 

A dozen growling spectral coyotes, ears pinned to the back of their head, teeth bared.  A dozen pairs of eyes starving for revenge. 

“I’ve got company over here!”

—

Metzli stood between the men, dumbfounded by the amount of density the two created with what they saw as stupidity. Really they were just impatient, over the situation they had volunteered themself for to save their friend. Having a conscience really put a wrench in their self-preservation, but they didn’t mind too much. Not when their decision brought the opportunity to mess with two hunters. They at least had that going for them. “Of course I know Macleod. She’s my partner. And you,” They shifted their focus toward Emilio, but soon found that the attempt to speak was futile when they both went into attack mode. 

As the two idiots duked out whatever pissing contest they began, Metzli honed in on Jude instead. “Okay, so you’re making friends. I’m guessing if you’re with this idiot, you’re here to—” To fight something. But they didn’t have time to voice that or seek an answer. The piercing scream from the cabin made them nauseous almost instantly. Everything happened at once, coming together in a jarring crescendo. The likes of which matched the all too familiar scream. Regan was either killing someone or in pain. Both scenarios made Metzli’s stomach wrench in a way that made their body twitch. Enough to step forward to get to their friend, but again, there was another interruption. “Puta madre. Que chingados—okay. Okay.” The hairs on their neck bristled and they slipped their knife back into its holster, only to retrieve another. An iron one that Macleod had given them. 

“Don’t worry chiquitín,” Metzli remarked toward Jude, standing in front of them. “I can cover you so long as you cover me a little, chale?” They gritted their teeth and let out a growl, baring their own teeth in return to the coyotes. Each spectral beast’s body language screamed threats, but the vampire’s were just as loud, not caving into fear because there was none to feel. They just hoped Kaden and Emilio would get their shit together long enough to fight with them. 

–

The satisfaction of decking the slayer in the face didn’t last long. It was quickly replaced with the pain of knuckles slamming into his own jaw. Putain de merde. Kaden saw it coming, but he wasn’t pleased with it all the same. He reeled back at the punch and was about to throw himself back into the fight when he felt a wash of cold air rush past just before he heard Jude’s cry. 

Shit. The fucking coyotes were here. He had to help contain them, but he definitely had to make sure Emilio wasn’t going anywhere, either. Kaden stomped his heel down at the slayer’s foot and threw his elbow towards him, hoping to slow the slayer enough to give the ranger time to help his necromantic companion. If nothing else, he hoped it’d piss him off long enough to stick around.

Kaden turned to see Metzli ready to ward off the shadowy coyotes that had set their sights straight on Jude. Putain, that was one pissed off coyote. If it wasn’t possessing Regan, he had a feeling he would be on its side. 

But that wasn’t the present situation, so the ranger charged towards the spectres, reaching for the stupid pack of salt Lil convinced him to carry around after their last encounter. He tossed a few pieces at one or two of them. Pits formed in their wispy shapes as they turned towards Kaden, growling and teeth bared. He readied his knife as they sprinted for him, fangs headed straight for his ankles. 

How the hell ghosts were able to sink in and yank his leg, he didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to question, simply slashed out at the one on his leg, digging his knife into its back and giving it a twist. Kaden twisted to face the second beast, ready to stab the spectral creature before it leapt at him. Only he saw a flash of gold. The eyes. It couldn’t—

He faltered just long enough for the claws to dig into him, sending him backwards as the other tried to drag his leg forwards.

–

The coyotes arrived soon after the scream and with them came the familiar pounding in the slayer’s chest. He’d really only had one experience with the coyotes, the first night he’d met Regan, but he remembered it well. Well enough that she’d found them an effective threat to use against him in the time since, even if she hadn’t followed through on it. Logically, he knew they were playing for the same team here, even if he wasn’t exactly as willing a participant as the ghostly canines seemed to be, but the quiet prickle of fear on the back of his neck remained despite the logic. He didn’t envy Jude, who seemed to be the coyotes’ primary target here… but he was glad to know someone else was in their sightlines. That suited him just fine.

The fact that they provided an adequate distraction for Kaden was a plus, too. 

The ranger turned towards the necromancer, and as much as Emilio wanted to continue their altercation, he knew he needed to take his chance and make a break for it to find out what the hell they were here to keep him from interrupting. There was some guilt with it, of course — he was doing everything in his power to stop a group of people from helping their friend here — but it couldn’t be helped. As per usual, Emilio had to lay in the bed he’d made for himself whether he liked it or not. 

Of course, Kaden couldn’t make it easy on him. A heel slammed down on his foot, an elbow found his ribs with enough accuracy to knock the air from his lungs, and Emilio let out a frustrated grunt as he stumbled backwards. Kaden was gone before he could retaliate, but since the damn coyotes seemed pretty intent on tearing the ranger to shreds, Emilio figured any punches he threw would be overkill, anyway. He paused for a moment, the old instinct to help a fellow hunter who was clearly in need of a hand fighting against the promise bind tugging him back towards the cabin. Kaden was an asshole, but he was only here because he was trying to save someone he loved. So was Metzli. Maybe Jude was, too, though Emilio didn’t know for sure on that one. Either way, leaving the three of them for coyote bait felt wrong. But…

Emilio had people he loved, too. And he couldn’t keep them safe if he was dealing with whatever consequences this promise would make him pay if broken. 

He’d get Regan to call the coyotes off once he got to her. She’d agree, anyway; he’d seen clearly enough at Kaden’s apartment that she didn’t want to hurt her ex, tested the waters a little by asking her about him after. Whatever was possessing her had a strong hold, but she was still capable of containing it long enough to make sure the people she cared about were okay, and Kaden still landed pretty high on that list. He got the sense Metzli did, too. When he explained what was going on, she’d call the coyotes back and everyone would be fine. 

Hoping the coyotes would provide a sufficient distraction to make up for the fact that there was no way he’d be moving quickly after Kaden’s last attack, Emilio turned back towards the cabin and attempted to slip away. 

—

Chiquitin. The word made Jude smile, and they nodded in agreement. Cover for cover. 

Surrounded with a hunter, a one armed individual with blood in their eyes, a skeletal moose and a mummified porcupine, they felt the first vestiges of the possibility of success. Until they didn’t. Kaden dragged down, Emilio turning instead of helping. They yanked on the necrotic threads of life force for the porcupine, sending it barreling towards Kaden. Iron threads had carefully been twisted around many of its keratinous spikes, so while it was slow, when it reached them, the iron spikes dragged holes through the spectral coyotes. If mist could hiss and sputter like a boiling kettle, that was what these coyotes did, starting to melt into nothing. 

Jude snarled, pulling pen from pocket. They looked down at their bared arms, covered in almost-finished spells that just needed an extra pen-stroke to complete. Only as many spells prepared as they had skin bared, and the resurrection had been a big one. They drew a last line on another spell they had prepared, as white light crackled from the veins in their wrist along to their fingertips, and jumped into Kaden, a healing spell to get him back up. It slithered around the bite strangely, as if even the spell was confused by the lack of huge gaping holes in Kaden’s legs.

Unfortunately, the coyotes didn’t wait for Jude to be ready for the next attack. A dozen deaths demanded a dozen revenges, as four pounced right for Jude’s body. Their moose, tasked only with the responsibility of keeping Jude alive, barreled into the party, antlers down as it tried to gore the coyotes with limited success, just knocking Jude off their feet and onto their ass. The coyotes’ lips curled before pouncing at the moose,  scattering bones as it fell apart like a jenga tower. 

“Shit!”  Jude grabbed a giant femur, pushing it into the mouth of one of the coyotes. The moose bones rattled and tried to reassemble themselves without the femur, but the bone in Jude’s hand was already beginning to crack. 

–

It didn’t take a genius to see that the group was fucked based on numbers alone. But Metzli never was that bright, and they always took being backed into a wall as a challenge. A battle to see who had the hardest head. They’d given enough knockout blows with their noggin that it didn’t seem too far out there to turn the odds back in their favor. Despite how Kaden seemed to be down for the count, they were willing to persist. Having weathered so many storms, Metzli had become one themself. With a core like a volcano that filled them with a cache of pain just waiting to be unleashed upon their enemies. Because of this, they had a way with monsters. Such as the coyotes that dared instigate a fight.

Cocking their knife back, Metzli whispered their hope and anger into their attack, splitting their worries with a feverish battle cry. The spectral beasts at Kaden’s legs dissipated with the iron, but they didn’t know for how long, and they didn’t have time to ponder. They just hoped it wasn’t a lethally permanent wound. For Regan’s sake, at the very least. They didn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself if she was an accessory to Kaden’s demise. Luckily, the spellcaster that had come along with the warden had a few tricks, mocking the coyote’s attacks and undoing them right before their eyes. Metzli smiled excitedly, the alert in their chest warming up the hope as they watched the tides shift ever so slightly. 

With that motivation, they holstered their knife and charged toward Emilio. Their arm wrapped tightly around his legs and stopped him in his tracks, preventing him from doing the one thing he was bound to do. Metzli’s heart ached to know they were damning him, but that hope was a blaze and they had to believe that it would all be okay. It all happened so fast anyway. They barely had time to think. He wouldn’t understand, but undoing his perspective couldn’t be a priority when lives were on the line. 

“Emilio! ¡Ya!” Metzli exclaimed, desperately trying to keep him pinned. “You’re gonna get everyone killed! Stop fighting this! ” Limbs grew frantic to keep the slayer down, realizing the trouble Jude was about to be in as they occupied themself with Emilio. Their reanimated guards were failing, fast, and Metzli knew they were next. The coyotes circled the pair, and they shielded Emilio with their body, unsure if they coyotes saw him as an ally. 

“Kaden! Get to your friend! I’ve got it over here!” Or so they hoped. 

–

Putain. Kaden didn’t expect to die by shadow coyote and he wasn’t even sure it was possible, but it sure wasn’t looking good. He braced his arm against the coyote, which was surprisingly solid for a specter, and caught sight of Emilio for a second, sure that the slayer was going to help. And then he walked away. The fucking piece of shit walked away. A flurry of curse words swirled in Kaden’s mind and off his lips as he continued to fight off the coyote. If he just had a second to free one of his hands and use his damn knife, he could maybe–

The spirits melted away almost as quickly as they had shown up and in their place was the waddling porcupine, still very dead, but walking all the same. Kaden blinked, staring back at the creature. How had it…? Squinting, he noticed something strange about the spikes. But there was no way that– Alright, Jude brought the thing back to life along with a moose and tortured the coyote in question, they very much would be the type to turn the porcupine into a weapon against ghosts with iron on its quills. 

He winced as he tried to get up. That piece of shit ghost did a number on it. As he was planning to limp away and brace against the pain, a string of light wrapped around his leg, relieving the pain. His brow furrowed, trying to put the pieces together, only to hear the clattering of bones and whining canine spirits. Metzli sprinted past him towards the slayer as Kaden was finding his footing, heading back to Jude. “Friend is a fucking strong word!” he shouted, running head first the coyotes and the shambling moose that was looking a little worse for wear. Somehow. 

Kaden pulled the pistol from his pocket, aimed and shot the ghost directly on top of Jude. The rock salt pellets tore through one of the coyotes, the spirit stumbling as it began to melt away like the others had before. He hoped those hadn’t hit Jude, but his concern was minimal at best. One was too preoccupied with Jude’s arm to notice the hunter, but the others spun and snarled, turning on Kaden. He shot again but this time the shadowy shapes knew better, blinking and twisting out of the way. The closest coyote leapt onto Kaden’s arm while the other went for his leg. The ranger shot the first one point blank. Still not fast enough, the ghost simply faded and reappeared at Kaden’s back, digging its spectral claws into him. Putain. He dropped the gun and reached for another knife, kicking the second beast away from his knees before plunging the iron knife through the specter. What was that, now, four down? Not bad. Even if the one was still on his back. Kaden tried to slam it into a tree but only felt the wind knocked out of his own lungs as he smacked into the tree. 

–

Acidic guilt burned in the back of his throat at the thought of leaving the others to fight the coyotes alone, but what choice did he have? He didn’t know what would happen to him if he broke this promise. And besides, the coyotes were going to keep coming until Regan called them off, anyway, weren’t they? He’d be more help to this group of assholes by getting her to call them off than he would be by sticking around and letting them make a chew toy out of him.

The silent justification of his decision to leave did little to ease the guilt swirling in his chest, and maybe that was why Emilio missed Metzli’s approach. Or maybe it was the way he’d been fucking losing it for months now, or the way the whole damn forest seemed to be setting off his undead sense. It didn’t matter much what the reasoning was; all that mattered was that when Metzli came at him, Emilio didn’t realize it until it was too late. Their arm wrapped around his legs and he stumbled, falling to the forest floor.

As soon as he hit the ground, he started to struggle. Throwing out his elbows, kicking his legs, throwing his head back in an attempt to make some kind of contact. He heard the leaves crunching as the few coyotes who weren’t focused on Kaden and the necromancer approached, and he had no idea if they’d attack him or not. Technically he was on their side here, but did spectral coyote spirits bound to a possessed banshee recognize that sort of thing? Emilio wasn’t exactly eager to find out. 

“Get off me.” There was a note of panic in his voice that he’d deny later, a genuine edge of fear. At the coyotes, at the endless possibilities of what might happen if this promise was broken, at the simple fact that he was pinned to the forest floor by a vampire even if it was a vampire he begrudgingly trusted. “Get off. You’re the one who’s going to get me killed. I have to — I’ll get her to call them off. That’s the only way they’re going to leave.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was true, didn’t know if there was some other way to get the coyotes to leave them alone, but he knew that this was the only way to stop the coyotes and keep himself from facing the consequences of the broken promise. Was it selfish? Absolutely. But Emilio wasn’t only thinking of himself, despite what it might seem. Fighting the coyotes would do nothing. There were too many of them to take on, even between all four of them, and there was no way to chase them off permanently without Regan’s interference. 

Desperately, Emilio continued to lash out against Metzli’s weight pinning him down. “Please, Metzli, please, you have to let me go. I can help them.” And himself, too.

—

Jude’s shoulder stung as a stray rocksalt bullet pierced through them, but mostly they sighed in relief as the teeth inches from their face dissipated into smoke. Even as they should have had their heart pounding, it was unnaturally calm, seemingly unconcerned by gunfire or vengeful ghosts. They scrambled to their feet, snatching up their dropped salt pouch as the moose slowly reassembled itself. It didn’t know how to. Where before each bone had sat where it was in life, now it only knew the framework of a moose. Its legs were made of antler and ribs, its spine of tibulas and maxilla and mandible. Its face was no face at all, hip sockets where eye sockets once were. It guarded Jude and became smaller every time a spectral coyote broke through it, fractured bones no longer usable for a skeletal form. As more of the coyotes encircled Jude, working as a pack with one mind, they flinched as they heard Kaden hit a tree with spectacular force.

They turned to try to cast a spell to help him, but after all their deaths and resurrections, this time the coyotes wizened up. One snapped at their wrist, knocking the pen from Jude’s hand and leaving the spell unfinished, only to dissipate as Jude swung their salt at it, but another slammed into their knees. Another bit their other arm, pulling it away so they couldn’t cast anything else. Jude’s knees hit a soft pile of mud and rotting meat as pain seared through their joints as sharp as lightning, and the moose that had been trying to defend them collapsed into a pile of bone, and the porcupine couldn’t trundle fast enough. Each bite was like molten magma poured into their bones, electric heat cooking their skin. The world tilted.

“Jude, we came to a decision. You’re too powerful.” An older woman with long braids told Jude kindly, looming over them, her long full skirt dragging against Jude’s shins. Except she’d never known them as Jude. They’d been Dolly back then, because they’d missed being a woman, and had resumed it for that lifetime. It had been a harder one, but a slower one, and as Head Witch of the Vermont coven leant over Jude, they weren’t sure it had been worth it. But none of the coven knew what Jude was capable of. Jude reached for their pen, a quill back then, but they could never quite reach it. Their mind was made sluggish by a mental caster. “It’ll be alright, Jude. You’ll barely feel it.” Jude. No, Jude wasn’t the right name for this lifetime, wasn’t the right fit for the flavour they’d been back then, in stays and bespoke made dresses. 

The image of the Vermont Coven flickered, and for a second Jude could see the coyotes again. But the high priestess reached down, and tilted Jude’s face up to hers. They didn’t remember it, her name, but they remembered how she’d smiled as it began to rain around them, how thunder had crackled through the air. 

“Only one second, Jude,” She said, raising her other hand to the sky. Lightning lassoed to her hand, and shot straight through her into them. Jude’s jaw tightened and every muscle clenched right up, their body a livewire. Whether it was the roaring electricity of a century old witch’s curse or thousands of synapses firing at once, Jude’s heart finally began to race as their muscles contracted until their bones began to groan under the strain. 

The witches in their vision grinned. The coyotes around them bared their teeth as others bit deeper still. 

Only seconds after it finally began to race, Jude’s heart slowed again. This time, it slowed to a stop. 

–

The grip around Emilio’s legs waned at the desperation in his voice. It pulled at the newly forged strings in Metzli’s chest. They knew they were damning him in some way. Making decisions was nearly impossible though. Each option presented a victim, a sacrifice to offer in return. Fate, as they had learned, required balance. The impartial entity spared no one no matter the plea, so Metzli settled to do the same as bullets fired, Emilio thrashed, coyotes growled, and exclamations of pain mixed together.

Spectral beasts closed in, and so too did the vampire. Metzli covered Emilio with their body, only letting go for a breath to grab their knife. “Fuck off!” They swiped, growling and sliding up to tighten their legs around the slayer, firmly keeping him in place. Coyotes snapped and swiped, finding purchase in the Metzli’s skin, tearing. Dead blood lathered their skin, but they didn’t wave a white flag. They couldn’t afford to. 

“I won’t let you get killed, okay?” Metzli swiped, “I can make this right.” Another swipe, but this time, it was followed by a push. The blade sank and they twisted it, making the final coyote of that push yelp and disappear. With a renewed and cautious enthusiasm, Metzli let out a dry chuckle. Their body stung and ached, but they had managed to help in some way, despite their not-so-brilliant plan. 

The area grew too quiet, though. When the realization of that hit, Metzli whipped their gaze around the whole area, landing on Jude and hearing nothing. Nothing. “Kaden!” They requested, pointing with their knife. “Check them! I can’t hear anything! Their heart!”

—

Kaden barely had time to catch his breath when he felt the cold breath down his neck, the teeth sinking in, piercing his skin. Fucking ghost coyotes shouldn’t be able to cause this much pain but that thought wasn’t enough to keep the scream from tearing out of him, made from the little bit of breath left in his lungs. He doubled over and used the momentum to throw the coyote over his shoulder. It felt like his flesh was being torn from his neck, but it was hard to tell what the hell was spectral and what was corporeal anymore. Didn’t matter. All Kaden had to do was fumble for his iron knife, twisting around to stab the shadowy coyote. It started to yelp and melt away at the first contact, but that didn’t stop the ranger from raising the knife and stabbing the spirit again and again, rage pouring through him in a way it hadn’t for a while now. 

The knife dug into the dirt one more time before Kaden noticed the growls and screams coming from Jude’s direction. Shit. Shit. His attention snapped to the necromancer who was covered in coyotes. He stumbled to pick himself up and run to help. He would help. He had to help. 

The snarls grew louder and the shouting slowed. No. Kaden shot off another salt pellet. And another. Two were gone but it didn’t seem to make a difference; there was only one thing they cared about, only one person they wanted to suffer. When he was in reach, Kaden slashed his knife through the canine bodies, pushing it through them to get to the spellcaster, ignoring the claws scratching at him and the teeth bared towards him. With a flurry of iron, Kaden was able to clear the way long enough to see Jude.

“Jude, come on,” the ranger said as he grabbed their shoulder, shaking them despite the wounds covering them, trying to wake them from the shock. That’s what it was. Shock. He was sure of it. 

Their body went limp and Kaden tried again, grabbing Jude by the shoulders and pulling them to sit upright as their head lolled back. “Wake up. This isn’t funny. We have to get out of here before…” The true state of their wounds settled into Kaden’s vision, starting to make sense. The pieces were coming together, but he refused to let it be true. “There might be…” He felt their skin growing cold against his hands.

No.

Kaden reached to their neck to feel their pulse.

It was–

“No.” The word was more like a whisper than anything. Kaden’s hands released before he could think to do otherwise, letting the body flop back on top of the pile of bones and carcass surrounding them. The limp, mangled body.

The body.

All that was left was a body. Kaden was responsible for another body. In the woods. 

He was frozen. Stuck. His eyes were glued to the body. If there was more danger, anything else, he couldn’t tell, couldn’t say. The world went silent and stopped as he stared at the body of the spellcaster he’d let die in the woods. 

—

For a moment, Metzli faltered. For a moment, Emilio thought they might let up, thought he might have something resembling a chance. But only for a moment. Their grip tightened on him again between one heartbeat and the next, protective and damning all at once. Enhanced strength might have given him more of a shot if the coyotes nipping at the vampire’s skin weren’t adding to the challenge of it all, if Kaden’s shouts and Jude’s struggles weren’t distracting him, if he’d wanted to leave half as much as he should have. 

When it became clear he had no real shot at breaking free, Emilio stilled beneath the vampire, chest tight. He let out a laugh at their words, strangled and humorless. “You’re the one who’s going to get me killed,” he said flatly, though there was no real heat behind it. He’d known for some time now that this fae bind wasn’t going to work out in his favor, known that between Metzli and Kaden and all the rest of Regan’s friends who wanted to achieve something that would undoubtedly lead to Emilio’s promise being broken, he’d never stood much of a chance at all. Emilio knew well enough to know how to accept when something was over. 

And a lot of things were over right now.

The air shifted as Metzli spoke, a new kind of chaos overtaking them. Jude’s heartbeat was a hard one to read — Emilio had noticed that the first time he met them in the graveyard and almost stuck a stake in their chest — but he couldn’t hear it at all now. He shifted beneath Metzli again, this time towards the necromancer instead of towards the cabin. Kaden’s voice, a whisper that might as well have been a damn scream, was enough to tell him what was going on. 

It was an old story; someone was dead, and none of them had stopped it from happening. Emilio hadn’t known Jude well, hadn’t liked them much better, but the guilt that settled into his chest was there all the same. 

But there wasn’t time, was there? There wasn’t time to mourn, wasn’t time to fall apart. There never was. “The coyotes will be back,” he said hoarsely, letting his head drop against the forest floor. “If you let me go, I can get her to keep them away from you. That’s what I was trying to do before.” Not the only thing he was trying to do, sure, but certainly on the agenda. 

—

Metzli knew the necromancer was dead long before Kaden’s reaction confirmed it. Cemented it with every plea. Every shake hammered the rusted nails in, and though there was a resistance, there was no stopping death. Their shoulders sank, looking back at Emilio with defeat in their eyes. Empathy was a son of a bitch, but they couldn’t let it latch onto them and be a distraction because Emilio was right. The coyotes’ departure was only temporary.

“I’m sorry,” They choked out, disheartened and defeated. Metzli wanted desperately to do the right thing, but none of the paths fit their wishes. “No matter who I help, someone is going to get hurt.” They said it aloud, but they were mostly saying it to themself. Their eyes tightened shut, and they finally relented, moving from atop Emilio.

With him set free, Metzli bolted to Jude and Kaden, sliding next to them in a rush. Their hands hovered over their body, trying to find something to do, but all they could hear was Kaden’s thundering heart and the shake in his breaths. They were already so cold, and they knew there was nothing that could be done, so they just watched Emilio in the distance, hoping things would turn out okay.

—

Words were spoken, but Kaden couldn’t process the noise. Shapes moved as bodies moved around him, but all he saw was the one body. Just one. Lifeless on the death mound, just another dead thing added to the pile. And Kaden hadn’t done anything to stop it. 

He had to move. Right? And then… do what, exactly? Kaden didn’t know. The only next step he could come up with was “stand.” Anything beyond that, he couldn’t figure out. 

Stand. He could start there. 

Kaden stood and managed to peel his eyes away from the body in time to see the shadowy wisps across the way. A howl pierced through the clearing as the fog took shape, the sound growing louder as the teeth and claws coming into focus. At first it was just three, then it was five, and before he knew it, they were surrounded by a dozen shadow coyotes, back and ready for round two. The ranger didn’t know if he was ready for a round two, not when he felt this numb. But he had to, he always fucking had to fight. Iron knife in hand, Kaden braced himself for another fight, pointless as it seemed to be.

A yelp screamed to his left and Kaden’s head shot just in time to see the shadows twist out of existence. Then another to his right. Until it was all around him, yelps and the spectral coyotes fading away as quickly as they came. 

The ranger furrowed his brows, slowly looking around, trying to figure out what just happened. Were they safe? Really gone? His knuckles went white as he tightened his grip around the knife, waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him, but nothing came. Just silence.

“It’s over,” he said. Nothing left but quiet. And death. 

—

Metzli’s weight disappeared from on top of him, but Emilio still felt heavy. He still felt as though he was being crushed, still felt as though he couldn’t get up from where he lay on the forest floor. He needed to run while he could, he knew, needed to take advantage of this distraction to go find out what the hell was going on with Regan and make sure she stopped before anyone else died, but… 

All he could focus on was the damn corpse. The body of another person dead before he could do anything to stop it. He got to his feet slowly, cautiously, but he made no move towards the direction of the cabin in spite of the tug of the promise bind trying to pull him that way. He made no move towards Kaden, Regan, or the body, either. Instead, he just stood in place, uncertain and uneasy. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when the coyotes reappeared; in a way, Emilio had sort of known it was coming. Every time he’d encountered them so far, any effort to remove them had only ever proven temporary. They disappeared long enough to regain their strength, or whatever it was they did, and then they came back with their teeth just as sharp and their eyes just as angry. This was no different. 

What was different was that Emilio didn’t use their presence as a distraction this time; instead, he pulled an iron knife from his pocket and held it tightly, ready to fight the beasts off. He’d never make it to the cabin before they tore Kaden and Metzli apart. He knew that. But… apparently, he didn’t have to. 

There was a yelp, quick and sharp, and then there was nothing. The coyotes were gone. Emilio’s stomach sank. This meant there was nothing left to fight… but it also meant that whatever had been going on with Regan was probably over now. And Emilio hadn’t stopped it. The promise he’d made to protect her and her fucking bones had been broken. Dread twisted in his gut. 

“It’s over,” he echoed Kaden’s sentiment flatly, a hint of bitterness to his tone. Whatever consequence he’d face for his failure was an inevitable thing now. He knew that.

—

There were many things that made a person, many things that made a heart twist and turn in a chest as a reminder that they were still living. Even if the heart itself was quite physically dead. Metzli’s did as much when they watched Emilio stand and decide to fight for and not against. There was a kind of power behind such a sentiment. He was robbed of choice, something so intimately his, one of the only things that could never leave him. Good or bad, those choices were meant to be his, and despite the consequences, Emilio stood up for himself and everyone else, informing what he had decided to stand against. The shock of it crescendoed in a way that reached everyone, ricocheting back to him until he crumbled.

“Emilio!” Metzli propelled themself forward, ignoring everything else around them. Kaden was alive and the coyotes were gone, and they needed to get to their friend. They would keep calling him that despite his persistent rejection. They never needed his forgiveness to place that label, to do what was right, and they would never ask for it. Their atonement required a sacrifice of pride, but when it came to Emilio, Metzli wasn’t seeking such a thing. What they were after was his familialship, the bond that had been created out of such tragedy. They wanted to make art out of the pieces of what was broken, and make something new. So they ran, not away, but to, and caught Emilio in their arm as he collapsed from the weight of the broken promise.

The pain he was feeling was palpable, but he wasn’t dead. A sigh broke out of Metzli’s lungs and they guided him to the ground, holding him close. “It’s over,” They murmured, holding their uneasiness in their mind until they could feel their desire for his survival gripping them. The sensation coursed through them, bringing Emilio closer to Metzli’s chest, and they counted every beat of his rapid heart. It continued, and that’s all they could ask for. Somehow their wish was being granted, and they knew better than to question it. Eilidh had taught them not to. 

[stolensiren]

that bird ain't right // eilidh, metzli, & cass

TIMING: current PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli , @braindeacl , & @stolensiren SUMMARY: while on patrol, cass and metzli run into eilidh and a big, vaguely bird-shaped problem. CONTENT: none

Robert should’ve stopped after the second failed attempt. The third. The fourth, even. But he was almost close to cracking it. He could feel it in his bones despite his hands refusal to produce. He was so close! He had studied the technique flawlessly — practiced the motions in a mirror until they looked just as the books. Success had been found in summoning birds, with time of course as it seemed to be now. And that now demanded something more. Something powerful — something he could really flaunt around town. But they kept dying. A great cockatrice who bubbled and bursted in blisters before it could so much as screech. A beautiful raróg who never got the chance to know flames before it turned to ash. A terrifying ker who quickly turned to eat itself rather than any of the corpses near. Until it joined that pile of bodies. A pile that seemed to have no end.

Eilidh had been called to the place as places often did — with the promise of death. There was that pull in the air again, like a great wind rushing passed. To that clearing that kept beckoning, who had given her gifts before. But this call was fresh. Her teeth chattered in excitement. Mind imagining the feast and the one who caused it. She donned her goggles. Followed that inner pull until it ended with that twisted use of magic. At first her sights were placed on the pile of bodies, and their rotted flesh called to her as any. But the hunger wanted the man. The man who used magic so cruelly — who invited death for no reason but delight. His ripeness was palpable. Her teeth chattered more, clicks of hunger soon to be fulfilled. Until there was a shift in the air and the hunger withered. It didn’t die, still craving the man as ever. But the pile seemed less appealing. And then it moved.

Success too seemed to be in the air, for Robert at least, as life returned to those fallen creatures. But not as a group of individuals, as one whole. The pile refused to separate; simply turned to become upright. The legs fused and torsos twisted together and wings joined at the same joint. At the end of the equation was a massive bird. A Chimera. One of many wings, of many heads all sporting fangs, covered in flames, and with an appetite that felt never ending. An appetite aimed at the father, who was devoured eagerly by this new child. But it wasn’t enough. No one meal would be enough. Its many eyes turned to look at the distant lights: the town. Those many wings outstretched; too many for just one body. Flapped against each other instead of together, forcing the great bird back to the ground. A piercing shriek of frustration bursted out those many beaks, making the air shake. But it needed to get to town. It needed to feed. The legs stumbled forward, merely tripping instead of crashing down when they too failed to work in tandem. Slowly shuffling to those lights. Those beautiful lights.

Eilidh had a fleeting disappointment watching the man fail prey to his creation. Her hunger still craved, but her mind knew he was more its kill than hers. But she could recognize that wanting — the need to feed more and more. The creature, still but a babe, had the matching appetite of a child. Enough for a town. Those insatiable eyes set on the very place and Eilidh let out a curse. Running down the hill she had been perched to give chase.

Patrolling was a lot more fun when you weren’t doing it alone. It was something Cass had learned pretty early on in her superhero career. There was so much sitting and waiting on a patrol, so much watching without acting. Cass was bad at that. It was so much easier to manage with a distraction, with someone to talk to. It was why Cass had been so pleased when Metzli offered to go with her tonight, why she hadn’t hesitated for a second in taking them up on it.

And it was probably good that she had. There was something weird going on in the woods tonight. She could practically taste it in the air, feel it buzzing beneath her skin. She all but dragged Metzli behind her, chattering all the while. “Tamara — that’s one of the girls I know from the shelter — said she saw some sketchy dude coming out here the last few nights. Apparently he’s a real ‘mutter to yourself under your breath’ kind of guy, which is, like, never a good sign. I just wanna see what he’s up to, you know? It might be nothing, but if there’s another cult starting out here we should probably catch it early.” She was rambling, largely just speaking to break the silence, but Metzli never seemed to mind it much.

She opened her mouth to continue, but a loud boom from the woods cut her off. Faltering, Cass turned to look at Metzli with wide eyes. “Okay,” she said, “so maybe it’s not nothing. C’mon!” It was all the warning she gave before she was running towards the sound without much regard for watching where she was going. It was thanks to this lack of attention to detail that she found herself hurtling into another person, someone who definitely wasn’t the man Tamara had described. Someone familiar. Stumbling backwards, Cass glared. “You,” she snapped, falling into a defensive position.

Metzli always liked when Cass requested their presence in her patrols. Not only did it mean she wanted them around, but she trusted them. There were unspoken meanings in such things, especially to those who had spent so much time alone. Being isolated meant that you were safe, which was true in a way, but the pair had grown to rely on one another, leaving that perspective behind. “Smart girl. In a town like this, nipping cults in the bud is the safest option.” They smirked subtly to themselves, impressed and proud at the initiative Cass took in her work. She truly cared about people and did her best to play a part in their welfare.

Walking carefully next to Cass, they halted abruptly at the sound of echoing shrieks and irregular stomps. They were expecting excitement, but not to this degree. It could prove too much for Cass, and her safety was their top priority. Metzli’s entire body tensed as if hackles were raising, on alert and festering with violence that needed to be executed. Soon that body tensed for a completely different reason, disregarding the beasts that were loose. Eilidh’s familiar scent filled their nose and they saw Cass running straight towards the origin. “Cass, espérate! Wait!” They reached out, grasping nothing but air. The collision was brief and they filled the space between the pair quickly in case Eilidh reacted harshly. If she were hunting for dinner, she’d be sure to lash out. Teeth and all.

The familiarity in Cass’s voice confused Metzli, displayed by the immediate tilt of their head and its subsequent turn to look at their partner, finger raised. “Hola, mi amor. Una momento.” They looked back at Cass, brows furrowed. “You know her?”

The beast was unstable, this was apparent. Eilidh could see those unsure foot placements, those wobbling knees. It tugged at something deep in her heart, for she had watched its birth. Barely a newborn and walking like one. And while she had come to this place to feed, and while a weapon did lay in her hand, the usual stirrings in her chest stuttered. She heard those distant sounds, but they felt distant too. Knowing whoever was near was either running away — like a squirrel by her feet — or running towards the beast — like her. The other didn’t matter, the beast was the focal. But what to do with it? One instinct telling her to bludgeon, the other telling her to nurture. Her feet at least knew its course: chase along. But those hands needed to make their minds. And they finally did, when she was bumped into.

Eilidh recognized the causing form, but the familiarity did not create excitement. She hissed at the sight of that damn mask. Her again. The one who couldn’t keep a simple deal. Come to interrupt another feed. If Eilidh could still call it such, but the point still stood. Finding a much closer outlet for aggression, her hand immediately jerked forward. But it struck another. Metzli. Metzli? This familiarity causing a burst of joy, once it was done combating her perplexity. A confusion that was lost on her face, concealed by goggles and fabrics, but came across in her voice. “You know Songbird?”

The distant lights were so tantalizing. But they were also so distant. Stuck in a body that was never meant to function and convulsing in a hunger that knew no end was a hell the Chimera thought was life. Yet, it wasn’t always so cruel. The three below would not be enough to calm its insatiable. But they were a start. Three bodies for three heads.

That stopped hand was still connected to Metzli, and Eilidh used it to push them away. Using that momentum to shove herself back in turn. Mostly eating air, the head that had chosen her gave a loud snap. But was punctuated with a splatter of black. Razor teeth managing to slice a bit of her chest. The heat was like a sunburn — sore and sweet. She let out a curt laugh from the sensation. Using the surge of excitement to whack her metal rod across the snapping head. Before remembering her confliction and letting out a huff. “Look for water, Datura!” Knowing their eyesight was better in the dark. She felt some was near, the feeling whispering in the back of her head. And she wanted, needed, to find one quick. She couldn’t watch another forest fire. Not so soon. “N’ be careful! Is just a babe!”

The other woman — god, Cass hadn’t even gotten her name before, had she? — seemed as ready for an immediate fight as Cass herself. She wasn’t worried about it or anything, because she could definitely hold her own the same way she had the last time their paths crossed, but she was kind of glad Metzli was with her, anyway. Just in case. It was never a bad idea to have backup, after all, never a bad idea to have someone else on your side. Except…

Metzli was looking at the woman with a gentle expression on their face, was speaking to her in quiet tones. Cass didn’t speak much Spanish, but she’d been around enough of it to recognize basic things like mi amor, enough to recognize the significance of it. “I’m sorry, what?” Was this the girlfriend Metzli had told her about? The one who left them, with no warning and no explanation? Who came back and was accepted so easily, as if nothing happened at all? Cass had been trying to give Metzli’s girlfriend a chance because she made them happy and they deserved that, but she’d already been struggling with it. But now? Now all she wanted was to give this woman a piece of her mind.

(Maybe she should find better phrasing for that. She was pretty sure the stranger didn’t take the corpse’s head just for meanness, before.)

But… now might not be the best time. Cass didn’t know what the creature was, only that it was large and daunting and… bird-like. Immediately, she felt a surge of sympathy towards it, a hint of a connection. It looked lost. And, okay, it was trying to eat Metzli’s girlfriend a little bit, but Cass wasn’t sure that completely put them on different teams. “What is it?” She looked to Metzli, pointedly ignoring the strange woman. “How can we stop it?”

Songbird? A chimera? Macleod? What the hell was going on? Metzli’s mind was reeling with a surge of questions that had to be left unanswered. They were pushed back just as they caught sight of the horrid creature that was looking at both the vampire and zombie as dinner. With a nod at Eilidh, they pulled Cass with them, “On it! Be careful, mi alma!” They could smell water a couple hundred yards away. They could help.

“That’s a chimera. It likes to eat dead things like me and…” Eyes darted towards Macleod, who was managing to keep the chimera distracted for the time-being. “Macleod. My girlfriend.” Metzli cleared their throat and sighed, “I’m gonna lure it to the water. You go with Macleod and be my backup. I have the best senses in this scenario and will need to lead it.”

There wasn’t just one meal anymore. There were three. But which one to pick? Why not all? But which first? The Chimera screeched, salivating from all heads, each pulling in separate directions. One at a time wasn’t an ideal option, but it was better than no option at all.

Metzli waved their arms, baring their teeth in reaction to the screech. “Hey! Over here!” Their simple yelling got its attention, and it ran in their direction with fervor. It didn’t scare them to have such a beast stampeding at them, but what did scare them was the possibility of two people they loved getting hurt. That’s why when teeth grazed their shoulder, they didn’t scream. They kept running, enticing the chimera with a trail of their dead blood to the river only they saw.

Eilidh’s limbs may’ve been distracted with the hungry child who thought her a meal, but ears were free to listen. In between stomps and shrieks, she heard her name fill the air. Spoken so casually. Spoken to one who shouldn’t know. An annoyance, enough to garner a hiss, but a minor one. She chose to be claimed to that name. But not to fucking ‘dead thing.’ Dead thing! Her feet faltered at that — growl like a mad dog’s bark. Anger blinding, letting the insatiable beast get another small bite of her. Symbolic, for her mind was equally torn. Oh, she wanted to stab everyone in this scenario. Except not really. Except very much yes. But, no, two kids and her love wasn’t the most ideal frenzy scenario. She looked to one of the formers. That poor stumbling thing. So hungry — too hungry for this place. Like the fires it had as skin.

When a great limb thrashed at Eilidh, she didn’t try for deep wounds. No sharp objects. Just another whack. Strong and forceful to match the great beast’s girth. The intention of one smacking with a newspaper. And in the stun it caused, she was able to gain on Metzli. She had noticed their purposeful steps. They had found something. But she wasn’t the only one closing the gap between. The chimera felt it had Metzli too, their distracting calls proving too persuasive. Her own calls simple background noise. Its stumbling soon gave way to a steady walk. Part of her felt a sense of pride in watching those first true steps. But they were leading to her lover’s demise. Her teeth clenched. The pride in mind was quickly replaced with a need to protect, just as her rod in hand was replaced with rope.

But it wasn’t a simple rope, one end tied in a circle. Eilidh lassoed one of the heads. Sort of. It got stuck in ones horn, but the stuck was her ultimate intention. It carried her along with ease, their differences in size demanding. But her weight, while smaller, wasn’t ignorable. The attached head began to thrash and she was lifted in the air. Learned to fly for a brief moment, just as the beast had. And in that echo, she too crashed just as soon to the ground. But when she gained purchase, she followed the momentum and shoved her end of the rope further down. Jerking the head, and this finally got its attention. That rope began to unfurl as the fires ate the fabrics. Just as it wanted to do of her. She ran: Metzli’s direction but at a slight angle. Giving them a moment to recuperate as she helped lead it forward. To that distant shine in the dark. Water. Probably.

It grated on her, the softness with which Metzli spoke to the woman, to Macleod. Cass knew it wasn’t fair, wasn’t right, but it did anyway. Her first encounter with Macleod, with the vampires and the bloody nose and the dead man she’d been too busy to save, it had hurt. It had been scary, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Macleod had been scary. And Metzli was supposed to be on Cass’s side against the things and the people that scared her. Weren’t they?

And Cass knew, on a logical level, that none of this was true. Cass had run into Macleod once, for a moment, and neither of them had been at their best. Metzli obviously knew her better, knew her well enough to love her. It wasn’t fair to judge someone entirely on one encounter and assume the worst when people who’d known them longer didn’t share in that assumption, but Cass struggled, sometimes, to be fair in her friendships. She’d had so few of them. There really wasn’t a lot of experience to draw on.

Whirling to face Metzli as they spoke, Cass sputtered for a moment. “What — Why do I have to stay with her? I want to go with you.” She trusted Metzli to watch her back. Macleod? Not so much. Given how things went the last time they met, she wasn’t entirely convinced that Macleod wasn’t going to feed her to the chimera as soon as Metzli’s back was turned. Just because she hadn’t killed her when those vampires got away didn’t mean she was trustworthy. But Metzli was already moving, because there wasn’t really time for Cass’s protests. There was a giant bird-thing trying to eat them all, so… Maybe being petty wasn’t the best course of action. Maybe.

Still, Cass was tense as she turned back to Macleod. She watched her for a moment, hating how impressive it was to see her lasso one of the chimera’s heads with her rope, hating how she seemed to know exactly what to do while Cass was at a loss. The chimera seemed far more content to focus on Macleod and Metzli than Cass, bringing Metzli’s explanation back to mind. It eats dead things. Cass wasn’t invisible here, but… She was an afterthought. Something the creature wasn’t focusing on at the moment. She could use that.

Slipping behind the chimera, Cass followed along with a watchful eye, waiting for the right moment. When the beast was distracted, both by Metzli’s shouts and by Macleod’s attacks, Cass took a running leap and jumped, climbing onto its back. There wasn’t much left of the rope Macleod had used to lasso the thing, but Cass grabbed it anyway. Like a harness, like a rein. She’d never ridden a horse, but she was pretty sure she got the concept. Control the head, control the body. This one just… had a few more heads to control.

Thank goodness Cass listened because that would’ve set off a whole different slew of problems. Ones that Metzli didn’t really feel like calculating for. Not when a giant beast was hurling one of its many mouths at them. The ground caved into the pressure of the attack, missing the vampire by mere inches thanks to their evasion. It continued to run past, leaving fire to spread on the grass, but being put out quickly by several swift stomps. Macleod didn’t want another fire. The greenery was too precious and had been hurt too recently. They knew she didn’t want to see the violence again.

“Cass!” Metzli took notice of her recklessness, frantic to get to her before flames ate away at everything. Macleod would be fine. She always was. Even while she was being pulled into the air, she would be okay. Like a cat, she’d land on her feet and continue. “Cass, you need to get down!” There was too much happening. They weren’t sure if Cass could even hear them. Growling, they ran as fast as they could, gaining on the creature until they could jump, landing next to their friend. “Amor, the river is just up ahead!” They pointed from their perch, planting a hand on Cass’s shoulder. “Jump off when I say.”

The chimera was hot, surrounding the pair with the raging scent of burning dead flesh. Metzli looked around with haste, seeing the rope fray with the fire. Control would soon be lost. What little there was anyway. They rushed to take off their hoodie, slapping the fire with it. It was hardly of any use, but it kept them from getting burned while they waited for the water to come into view. When it did, the vampire told Cass to jump, threw the hoodie onto a head and followed immediately after their garment to force the chimera into the river with a giant splash.

Eilidh watched the amount of people clinging to the beast’s back jump from one to two. She the only one whose feet knew of the ground. That and the chimera’s. Both beast and woman realized this at the same time, sharing a knowing look. Before the predator set its sights on the easiest prey. She kept her course true, trusting that the approaching twinkling was water. The one she wanted to swim was certainly growing into those legs, reaching speed previously unseen. She could hear one head breathing near her ear. Knew her flesh would very soon replace the breath if she wasn’t quick. No time could be wasted on retrieving a weapon. That great maw opened, the teeth prepared. But hers did as well. She bit into her own, severing an index finger. Spit it hastily into the air. And the beast wanted the easiest prey. It snapped at the offering, leaving her head untouched. In its moment of satisfaction, she was given a few more steps ahead. Until one made a loud crashing sound. Water.

The water was a thief. It stole the Chimera’s blazing skin, replacing with that of simple flesh. Fire was powerful, and its absence was strongly felt. The sudden weakness made the legs, who had just known stability, buckle and sway. The only remaining strength was the hunger. And it grew in full, roused by its newfound desperation. It began to bite at everyone and everything, not just the woman before it. Snapping and thrashing at the two who tried to leave its back.

The fire of the skin may have died, but not the flames of hunger. Eilidh could recognize the look, or looks, in its eyes. Such a hunger forced more teeth upon her. But she had already returned her rod to her hands. The teeth met it instead of her. Force pushing both her and the head down, submerged into water. With no lungs to cry out, she could stay down there forever. But the head kept pushing — kept inching the teeth closer. Until it started to tear into her abdomen. Fire filled her belly as her mouth filled with flesh. Her own teeth tearing at the beast’s eyes, the close proximity permitting. After both were lost passed her throat, the beast finally relented. Pulling out from the waters to release a scream on the wind. She stood, contents of her gut spilling further into the water. Surely tainting it with blackness, but she couldn’t tell. She only had the mind to attack the head again, another beating of her rod. And she knew she should go for more fatal wounds. Before the other heads remembered her. Before the first head recovered. The skin was exposed, revealing all those soft bits. But she found her hand hesitated. Found it only wanted to smack. The beast was only a babe.

Eilidh cursed under her breath. Goggles lost in the skirmish, she looked up at the great beast with clear eyes. “Bà bà, leanab! Fuck. Can find you food!” Her attempts at reasoning would be better spent on a brick wall. Reduced to just more whacking as a limb tried to swipe at her.

Even with her costume’s flame resistant fabric, the heat was nearly unbearable. Cass forced herself to stay on the beast’s back in spite of it, even as her skin blistered and sweat poured from every surface. Heroism was about taking everything you could stand to take and multiplying it by a thousand, was about doing the best thing even when it wasn’t the smartest. (It was never the smartest. Cass knew that.)

Metzli’s sudden presence at her side wasn’t as unexpected as she might have hoped for it to be, because Metzli tended to follow Cass’s lead even when it wasn’t a very good lead to follow. Cass felt a heat in her chest that had nothing to do with the flames surrounding them and everything to do with the guilt of knowing that Metzli might get hurt because of her, but she pushed the feeling down. It wasn’t important now. What was important was steering the proverbial ship into the water before it could set the forest and the town and everything between the two on fire with it.

Nodding at Metzli’s instruction, Cass closed her eyes for a moment. The heat was building, the fabric of her costume beginning to bend to it. It hurt. Everything hurt. And then…

Metzli yelled for her to jump, and Cass didn’t need to be told twice. She met the ground in a graceless tumble, wincing as her shoulder hit the dirt before the rest of her. That was going to hurt tomorrow. Probably the next day, too. Definitely the day after. What kind of health insurance did Spider-Man have? Cass wondered if there was a similar plan available in White Crest.

Forcing herself to her feet, Cass rushed to the river’s edge, trying to make out the fight happening beneath the surface of the water. It was hard to tell what was happening. The water was murky with more than just dirt, Cass suspected. A strange sense of concern tugged at her gut because as uncertain as she was about Macleod, she loved Metzli and they loved the zombie. Cass didn’t want anything to happen to her, even if she was still sour over their first meeting, over the heartbroken texts Metzli had sent after she left town.

Woman and beast surfaced together, and Cass rushed over, ready to jump into the fray again. Macleod looked hurt badly, but the wounds didn’t seem to bother her and Cass realized just how little she knew about how the undead processed pain. It seemed like the zombie was trying to speak to the creature, trying to reason with it. Cass, too, longed for a peaceful solution. This thing hadn’t asked to be born the way it had. It hadn’t asked to come into the world, confused and uncertain with wings that couldn’t keep it in the air and feet that weren’t enough to keep it steady. Turning to Metzli, she swallowed. “Can we help it?” She’d trust the vampire’s answer, whatever it was. She knew they’d be honest with her, just as they always were.

Water went everywhere as the vampire was flipped into the river, submerging Metzli and burying them below what could be called the chimera’s torso. They screamed, seeing walls surround them and hearing the splashes turn into grains of sand. Fists plunged into the creature over and over again, pulling thick, black ooze. Bits of flesh and random bits of god-knows-what splattered onto their face. A painful screech emitted from the Chimera and it began to move again. The body relented, much to their relief, but the sand persisted. Body shook, stuck in place as the chimera continued with its search for food. Pupils slowly grew from pinpoints, reality coming back to Metzli.

When they finally stumbled to their feet, red eyes fell onto their injured partner and scared sister who was asking them what to do. What else was there to do but kill it? The hunger would never cease, and wasn’t that a hell on its own? Poor beast didn’t ask to be made. Like Macleod said, it was just a babe. An innocent animal that was too broken since its birth. Metzli had worked on a farm long enough to know what the answer was. They didn’t like it, and they knew Macleod really wouldn’t like it, but it was the only way. Swallowing, they finally answered defeatedly. “We can’t, Cass. I’m sorry.”

The Chimera didn’t like the feeling of pain. It just wanted to eat. It needed to eat. Thrashing at the things hurting it didn’t bear any fruit. Only seemed to tire it out with each swing they evaded. But they had one of them in their sights now. It was on the ground, spewing delicious contents. The chimera wanted those contents.

Metzli crouched and leapt towards the swinging limb that was heading toward Eilidh, not letting it connect with their partner. The power behind it pushed their body a few inches, but they planted their feet well and had secured the head in their hands. Other heads snapped teeth, crashed into everything clumsily, and fought hard to move, but Metzli wouldn’t let go. The head they had in their grasp provided enough cover from the other two thankfully. “Amor, I think we have to put it down. It’s suffering. It will never stop suffering.” They waited for an answer, hoping it’d come soon as their fingers were sinking further into the decayed and burned flesh.

The trio reformed back on the ground. Eilidh hardly had the attention to spare to give them both their dues. Glancing only enough to ensure they weren’t dead or close to, before focusing back on the beast that wanted such things. Her hands continued in motion to stop that fate. Though her ears remained with the two, for those grunts and shrieks from the chimera were lost on her. Catching that opposition in tone. Words were hard to capture, but meaning was still found in the inflections. The hesitation of the masked one, which she wanted to nurture to opposition. Until it was shot down by the bleak resolution of Metzli. Want of coaxing died, replaced with a need for quarrel. Her own harsh tones readying to mix with the others. But the limbs heading her way grew in number. Making her waiting words become simple growls.

Eilidh kept up that constant whacking. Power from before lost as her energies were split between healing and defending. It was just enough to keep the claws at bay, but only enough. She nearly dealt one blow on Metzli as they jumped between. Letting out a bark of fear, she reeled back. Managing to merely clip Metzli instead of bludgeon. She hardly had the space to feel remorse, as Metzli continued their resistance. “They’re just fucking hungry!” That was what babies did: they hungered. Even the smallest wailed under its might, and this poor thing had the size to make it unbearable. But only until they were fed. The town a suitable offering, but she had already dashed that idea. Humans would crumble under its might. It would cause devastation — lead to too much bloodshed. And the hunters… Oh, they would love to kill this poor babe, wouldn’t they? She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction — those who killed for mere pleasure.

Eilidh looked to the one whose name still escaped her. “There is a thing to do.” Metzli may not see it, but she would sway both. All she needed was to find food. To the woods. The woods, yes! All hers came from such, a bearer of many. She stepped further back, practically swimming, and… swimming… Oh! All water leads to its Mother, the ocean. Yes. Yes. Yes. The woods would be convenient, but the ocean! Mother of all, and the protector of many. Embraced by her darkness — nursed by her creations. Yes! The babe would find many to eat and many to contend, for she’s a mother of dangers too. A death that would be put to use. But first, it could live. Eilidh went further into the depths until her feet no longer found the bottom. The current whisked her away; into a darkness she knew would end in salt waters. “C’mon, leanab! To food! To food!”

In the movies, the heroes always won. The losses happened, sure, but they were an afterthought. A thing behind the scenes, a quick shot of something tragic that was quickly swept away by the triumph that followed in the next heartbeat. Real life was never so cut and dry. In real life, being a hero meant that sometimes, you couldn’t save everyone. Sometimes, there was a bird and it was young and pained and suffering through an existence it hadn’t asked for, brought upon it by someone who’d never once considered what it might want, and you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t convince its wings to carry it off the ground, couldn’t talk its beaks into consuming something without hurting. There were some birds that would never fly. Cass ached with it, just a little.

But… in spite of Metzli’s words, Macleod seemed to have another idea in mind. She didn’t voice her plan aloud, and Cass certainly didn’t know her well enough to wager a guess, but the eagerness to her voice, the way her eyes lit up, it seemed to imply that there was something she thought might work. And Cass didn’t know if she trusted her, still, but she wanted a way to save this bird. She wanted to push away the idea that there were some things that were just lost causes, wanted to bury her head in the proverbial sand and pretend that any bird could get off the ground if only it was given a chance.

She couldn’t jump into the water with Macleod, not with the chimera thrashing about the way it was. Unlike the two undead in her company, Cass still kind of needed to breathe. And she enjoyed breathing. It was, frankly, one of her favorite hobbies. What she could do was run alongside the pair on the riverbank, ready to coax the chimera back into the water if it tried to climb out. Whatever Macleod’s plan was, it seemed to hinge on the bird staying in the river. And since it wasn’t one fire as long as it was soaked, Cass tended to like the concept.

“Where are we going?” She called, glancing back at Metzli and hoping that they would have the answer if Macleod wouldn’t provide it. Macleod might not be an entirely reliable source, but Metzli was. And they knew the zombie. Well enough to get that soft look in their eyes when she was near, well enough to seem to know what she was planning even when she didn’t say as much in words, well enough to trust her entirely.

“No! Macleod, they’re not suffering because they’re hungry! They’re—” Metzli sighed, realizing that their partner’s gears were going at full speed in her head. She was coming up with a plan, and the confirmation was given by her excited proclamation. Bleary eyes looked to her and then to Macleod. A haziness attempted to take over their senses, still reeling from the panic that came with being buried underneath the chimera’s weight. Shaking their head, they recentered themselves and smiled, a hint of weariness clinging onto their lips as they swiveled around to acknowledge Cass and her question with a shrug.

Metzli had no idea what the plan was, but if it meant making two people they loved work together and happy by saving the creature, they’d do anything. “No idea where we’re going, but I do know if she has a plan, it’s best to not ask too many questions or you’ll get left behind.” Their hand grasped Cass’s, pulling her with them to trail after the chimera as it chased after Eilidh while she made herself enticing with each exclamation. Whatever was going to happen next, they knew they could trust Macleod. Even if something went wrong, she would put their lives above the creature, regardless of how badly she wanted to save it. They just needed to put themselves at her disposal, for whatever plan she had in mind.

“Cass, I’m gonna throw you onto its back! You’re gonna try to stay on there to steer it wherever we go, okay?!” Metzli pulled Cass’s hand without waiting for an answer, shifting her to stand on their shoulder as they ran, and threw her into the air. Her trajectory was straight and true, landing her straight onto the beast. Metzli stopped to watch for a few moments, ensuring she was safely planted before bounding forward to run beside Eilidh with the chimera in tow behind them. “Just tell me where to be and what to do, and I’ll do it. Promise.”

The Chimera’s hatred for the water meant nothing compared to the hunger. It saw its prey slip into its hold, and it simply had to follow, letting that thief take it in full. Those screams and calls drew it closer; made it learn to swim in their persuasion. Focus fully placed, until there was a change in weight. The waters rising higher on its body as a force pushed it down. Small, but not unnoticeable. There was a piercing shriek in its throats, a start to turn its many heads. But the calls in the water grew louder and more frequent, beckoning them back to the current. The source, the prey, easier to see even in the dark.

“Aye! Look to me! Just me! Swim!” Eilidh called out, stubbornness not letting its eyes off of her. Keeping its course true. The fire in her belly was quieting, as if the waters could douse them too. Returned some strength to her limbs, for it was no longer divided. A much needed return — the current was strong but it was not swift. And the beast had many compared to her four limbs; all of hers needed to work to keep ahead. Yet, in the departing flow of her weakness, a hunger was left. Filled in the void in her stomach, same as that regrowing tissue. Teeth chattered at the babe, calling the predator inside. She wouldn’t let herself; couldn’t let herself. Except, perhaps, a little. A head stretched out, latching onto just water thrice as she maneuvered away. But the fourth struck true, and she bit in return. Its fangs latched onto her arm, her own gripping its snout. The great maw tried to break her arm, release it from the rest of her. Yet as it pressed down, those bones merely bent with the pressure instead of snapping. The flesh of the maw, though, slipped into her throat with the ease of decay. She grumbled in delight at the offering, as her other hand repeated that recurring rhythm: whack, whack, whack. The beast finally released her, but not empty handed. It too retrieved offerings; the maw dripping in black, leaving chunks of her arm bare. From those new voids birthed more chatterings in her mouth.

“THE OCEAN!” Eilidh tried to speak to her love in a normal manner, but it was hardly more than a snarl. The predator nestled in head, in her teeth. Wanted more flesh and saw one who had so much to offer. She mustn’t. It was a babe, it was a babe, it was a babe. And yet her eyes looked at the babe, the beast, the prey with the same look as it gave her. Only a matter of time before the two devoured each other, hunger finally satisfied in their shared deaths. She licked her lips, the taste so lovely despite the dread in her chest. She mustn’t. She won’t. Sounds of the approaching ocean reminded her of that gentle side, the one who still wanted to nurture. The one who saw a poor baby and did the most natural thing: try and help. The one who was struggling to keep her hands to swimming inside of tearing away that sweet flesh. Her teeth continued to click, her hands continued to paddle — both sides at a stalemate.

It was clear that Metzli didn’t like the idea of saving the chimera, but it was also clear that they’d go along with it so long as Macleod and Cass were in agreement. And despite the distrust gnawing at her gut, despite the unease she felt with Macleod near, despite the memory of that dark night and that dead man and those vampires who got away even though they probably shouldn’t have, Cass knew that she and Macleod were in agreement on this. The chimera hadn’t asked to be born from an egg, drenched in the confusion of an existence it didn’t understand. It didn’t deserve to die for that. It didn’t.

So they surged forward. Cass nodded at Metzli’s words, climbed onto their shoulders and let them launch her through the air without a moment’s hesitation because she trusted them so completely, so entirely. She grabbed at the chimera’s centermost head, used it to steer the beast while Macleod baited it from the front. She let herself think things would be fine, things would be good.

And then, Macleod started taking bites out of the bird.

The horror twisting in her gut had little to do with the chimera, despite how much she’d latched onto the beast and its neverending metaphor. Cass knew it had far more to do with that night in the woods, with the dead man and the guilt his bloody corpse left her with. The reaction wasn’t even entirely one she meant to have — it was instinctive. She saw Macleod pull away from the bird with flesh in her mouth, and she flinched back with her arms still circling its head. She flinched back, and she pulled the bird’s head back with her. It changed direction to compensate, but there wasn’t much space in the river, wasn’t much room.

It hit one side of the riverbank, panicking when it did. Swimming was such a new sensation for it; it didn’t know how to keep afloat among the chaos of it all. It was almost funny; Cass would have thought that, with the size of the thing, it would sink like a boat. Slowly capsizing, lowering itself down bit by bit. But the reality was quicker than that. It sunk all at once, flailing limbs it hardly knew what to do with, sending blood into the water, and Cass couldn’t tell which way was up. The bird’s panic felt contagious, seeping into her where she held it, spreading through her veins. She barely had enough time to gulp a breath of air before she was underwater, so tangled with the chimera that it was hard to tell which bird was which.

If it had been months before, Metzli wouldn’t have understood Eilidh’s snarl, but they spoke the tongue of her hunger now, and knew immediately what she planned for the chimera. Nature called for water to flow and congregate, this one just so happened to go to the ocean, where the creature could feed without hurting much else. Yes, that plan would work. For all parties. Darting forward on land, they watched as Cass managed to steer the chimera into a manageable position and how it even failed to find purchase to escape the current. It was just too deep. And that made panic set in quite visibly, sending Metzli into a panic themselves. Both Macleod and Cass were in danger and they went hurtling into the water. “Cass! Macleod!” If they weren’t quick, one would drown and one would lose themself in a way they’d regret. They couldn’t let either happen.

Metzli lost sight of both their loved ones, watching them be swept under. Without hesitation, they dove, causing anxiety to rise as darkness surrounded them. They too wanted to match the panicked energy that had been released into the air, but they couldn’t. Pushing past it, Metzli wrapped each arm around Macleod and Cass, kicking off of the chimera to shove them to the surface and provide momentum to its new destination.

Eilidh fought back, thrashing and wanting to be set free, but they didn’t budge, despite how exhaustion was beginning to set in. “Querida! It’s okay. It’s okay! It’ll get to the ocean. It will. It’s free. Cálmate, por favor. You saved it.” Metzli maneuvered their way to the edge of the river and helped Cass back onto land, staying in with Macleod as she continued to thrash. They knew how reactive she could get and wanted to ensure Cass was safe while they tended to their partner.

There was darkness. Swirling and churning — turning Eilidh’s world into its making. As if she was stuck in that growing void inside, the one where her hunger laid. Made herself lost to it in those moments. The light came, as it eventually did with varying degrees of urgency, but not by her own doing. Forced into it just as the dark, but that need to bite remained. The only thing that felt like a given choice. So, thrash and bash she did. Knowing nothing but that someone, something, was on her. Grabbing her. Wanting to steal from her; to cover her in so many cracks that only the hunger could remain. And she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She still needed to help and the hunger was not compliant. But then, she heard that familiar voice. Close to her ears: urgent but soothing. There was a sudden pause, caused by a sudden confusion. More flailing followed, but they more like echoes. Softer. Simply wanting to be set free, so they could be used to swim. To guide. Yes! The chimera. She needed to guide the chimera. But she was no longer in the depths of those waters, her feet able to stand. No. That wasn’t right. She needed to return.

Eilidh twisted around in Metzli’s hold. Looking back out to that shimmer in the dark — to that current she wanted to be swept back up in. But there were breaks in the twinkling waters. Patches of dark that were moving, where parts of the submerged beast breached. All advancing towards the waves, until they wrapped the babe in their hold. Pulled it into the ocean’s welcoming embrace. Her growl was still there, having made its home in her throat, but her tone was lighter. Much lighter. “Go! Go, you fucking Eun Uisge!”

The waters were heavy and constricting. Nothing like the air the Chimera was made for. It knew so deep in its core even if the sky would never grace its wings. Knew so deeply it tried to go up, again, in a blind attempt to be free. But the current was unrelenting, and it had nothing to show for its efforts. Simply pulled further down and further out. Spat out into an emptiness, but it was not a lonely one. Nearby, the beast could see it. Movement. And wants of scurrying creatures or of distant twinkling left its thoughts. Hunger focused on the closest prey, and its limbs were sent into a frenzy trying to get closer. Those wings joined the excitement, and they all felt a give. A give that did not end in a crash, in a burst of pain and frustration, but in movement. Awkward bursts of such, as all its movements had been. But it was movement. Assured movement. And after many fumbles and incorrect directions, those wings found a rhythm. Made it feel, for the first time in its short life, deep in the waters of the ocean, that it could fly. And it flew. To the food that did not fight back, but surrendered to its many mouths. It wasn’t enough, not nearly. But it was a start.

The water was deep and cold and dark. Cass forced her eyes open, but she couldn’t see anything beyond murky shapes, couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down. She was a decent enough swimmer, but not when she couldn’t tell what she was meant to be swimming towards. Not when there was a patchwork bird flailing around and a hungry zombie snapping at the currents. Her lungs burned, and she pursed her lips together tightly to keep herself from inhaling the water instinctively, grit her teeth beneath them. It was pointless. She was going to drown, was going to die because of her own stupid mistakes, was going to —

An arm wrapped around her midsection. Foolishly, her first instinct was to kick against it, to fight her way free, but after a heartbeat she realized she recognized the tightness of the hold. Metzli. If there’d been air in her lungs, she would have heaved a sigh of relief. As it was, she only relaxed and let them do all the work to get her to the surface.

When they pushed passed the water and onto the shore, Cass sucked in a greedy breath of air, gasping and sputtering. She’d barely met the ground before she was turning back to the river frantically, searching for the creature. Beaks broke the surface, the current pulling the bird towards the ocean, and Cass understood now. In the air, the bird would never be able to fly. But in the water? It could. She sighed, swallowing around the lump that had formed in her throat.

Tentatively, she turned back to her undead companions. “It’ll be okay, right?” There was an apology hidden behind the words, but Cass was only good at saying those out loud when she didn’t mean them. She wasn’t good at apologizing when she was sorry. She only knew how to do it in moments of desperation.

She held her breath until Metzli nodded in affirmation, then let the air whoosh out of her lungs all at once. The bird would be okay. Maybe the rest of them could be, too.

[wickedmilo]

I’M HOME | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: Milo and Metzli’s apartment TIMING: 11:39 PM SUMMARY: Metzli and Milo are reunited WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol, addiction, mentions of drugs/substance abuse

Metzli was spiralling. The apartment, its energy,  felt like it was caving in on them the longer they waited, so they left. They were supposed to stay in bed. They were supposed to just trust that Milo would come home. They were supposed to listen to Bex. But ultimately, in true Metzli fashion, they didn’t want to listen. Tracking was one of their specialities and they had every intention of going out to use that skill. Intention could only get someone so far though, especially when they were as injured as the vampire. “Fuck!” they exclaimed angrily, tears falling down, burning their cheeks with their own sorrow. Thoughts circulated in their mind, wondering if they were even doing this for Milo or for themselves. It could easily be both, but they were selfish. Thanks to Eloy, that’s all they could be, deep down.  

They had only made it a mile from the apartment before their body began to wane. Their energy was fleeting, and they didn’t have enough blood in their system to justify staying out. Metzli let out a shaky huff and made their way back in about an hour, not even realizing that Milo’s scent got stronger the moment they stepped into the complex. Even stronger when they opened the door. But they were too withdrawn to even register it until they walked to the bathroom to wash up. “M-Milo?” 

Milo hadn’t been home for very long, but if he knew how to do anything, he knew how to utilise time. He hadn’t been eating well, which meant he was weaker than usual. And that might frustrate him if it didn’t make it so blissfully easy to succumb to his substances. Making sure his mice were settled in his bedroom, he didn’t hesitate to open a fresh bottle of vodka. One with the highest available alcohol content. The clear liquor, mixed with a few carefully crushed pills, meant he was almost able to forget the fact that he could smell Metzli when he let himself into the apartment. Much like the texts he had received, he was apparently being haunted by their metaphorical ghost. Stumbling through the familiar home... his home, the home he was supposed to be sharing with his friend, his intoxicated mind had decided that a bath would be the solution to his problems. If he could only sink into the hot, clean water, what he was wouldn’t matter anymore. Who he was, wouldn’t matter. Everything he had lost would fade away into nothingness.  

He couldn’t remember drawing the water, or even climbing, fully-clothed, into the tub. But slipping below the surface was far more comforting than it should be, and within minutes he could feel his consciousness slipping away. The lavender bath salts were incredibly seductive, luring him into a synthetic state of peace. His clothing grew wet, and heavy, clinging to his skin as he embraced the darkness threatening to pull him under. Time didn’t mean anything, as he curled up. His hair tickled his cheeks, the air left his lungs, creating bubbles that rippled as they steadily rose. Not needing to breathe allowed him to let go. He wasn’t in danger, he was safe, and warm, and beautifully numb. He closed his eyes against the water, realising that in nodding out, he was being offered a break. A break from his grief. A break from his life. A break from missing Metzli Bernal. He would be so stupid not to take it.

Metzli knew neither of them needed to breathe, but the image of Milo laying completely still in the tub still made them jerk forward and hit their knees on the floor with a bony thud. “Milo, what the fuck are you doing?” They pulled him up by slipping his arms underneath his, struggling in their state. “Come on you fucking ass, wake up.” All the movement caused the stitches to noticeably stretch, and they stopped before they messed up Bex’s hard work. With a frustrated groan, they rose to their feet, stumbling and slipping. It was with pure luck that they managed to catch themselves on the edge of the tub and keep themselves upright. 

They felt utterly helpless, sitting back down on the floor. There wasn’t much they could do without hurting themselves, and that wasn’t something Metzli handled all that well. Hands trembled, try to take out their phone to maybe get ahold of Bex. If they couldn’t rely on themselves, they’d swallow their pride and rely on their friends. Tears fell, staining their caramel skin and blurring their vision. The tears were a bittersweet mixture but they burned all the same.  

At first Milo thought he had imagined being lifted. The arms underneath him weren’t strong, or steady, but he felt them through the haze of his high. It took him far too long to realise they were real, and only as they withdrew, letting him fall back to the bottom of the tub, did he force himself to open his eyes. Blinking against the water, resisting the urge to take in a breath, a few minutes passed before he regained control of his body. His awareness of where he was grew alongside his control of his limbs, and he eventually pushed away from the ceramic, scrambling to reach the surface. He was curious to discover who had been trying to get his attention. Gulping down air on pure instinct, he straightened his glasses, pushing his sopping hair back away from his face. The smell of lavender was still strong, but it was no longer the only scent permeating the space. The ghost of Metzli was back, and he had to remind himself that they were in his head, even though their scent felt tangible. Even though it felt as though he could reach out and touch them. Slipping his fingers behind his lenses, he pressed down against his eyelids, the darkness offering a certain amount of clarity. No longer overwhelmed by sensations; the water, the lavender, the heat, the humidity, the feeling of his wet hair, and wet clothes… he became aware of new sounds, and new smells. Ones that were more difficult to initially pick up on.  

Listening to the quiet, rhythmic sound of breathing, registering the smell of dead blood, he dropped his hands back into the water, turning with such speed that it spilled over the edge of the bath. He heard it hit the tiled floor of the bathroom. The tiled floor where Metzli was sitting, looking sad, and small, but very, very much alive. He stared, scared to move in case they decided to disappear, or they proved to be a product of Virgil’s manipulation. “Met-” He broke off, choking on their name. It had been so difficult to say after losing them. He couldn’t tell whether his vision was blurred by tears, or by the water droplets on his glasses, but he didn’t care. He had far more important things to worry about. This was it, he was going insane. He was finally snapping under the pressure of his supernatural life. “Metzli- you can’t be here.” He leaned forward, pointedly ignoring the way his movements pushed yet more water over the edge of the bath. His hand brushing against their shoulder, he felt their body, solid and sure against his skin, and couldn’t stop a sob from escaping him. “Is it really you?” 

For as long as Metzli could remember, they shouted out into an infinite void with no one to hear. They met silence with just as much noise as someone who needed to take liberties in talking with loved ones who weren’t really there. Shouted until they shattered the glass wall that wedged between them and their chance at a family. Sometimes those echoes didn’t come back, but sometimes, with a little bit of luck, and an open ear, Metzli found that there was a reply. That reply could come in many forms, but this time, it came in the form of a sound and a firm touch. A reply that beckoned a response in return. 

Milo’s hand snapped them out of their thoughts, and their eyes widened in relief. “Yes, you ass! I’ve been trying to tell you! I told y—” Metzli yelled through their sobs, choking on them and lunging forward to wrap their arms tightly around Milo. Tears fell even harder, more so out of glee than despair. “God, why are you so fucking stubborn? I was trying to tell you. Bex saved me and got—fuck. Goddammit. I fucking missed you.” The floor was covered in water and they were officially drenched, but they couldn’t give a single fuck about it. Milo was in their arms, their family was in their arms again and they could live the life they had fought so hard for. Everything they had fought for was within reach, and they extended out with every piece of their being. 

The moment Milo heard Metzli’s voice, really heard it, he felt his entire world begin to reassemble. Where before it had shattered, and the shards had been left to lay where they fell, they were piecing themselves back together again. Everything he thought he knew was being rewritten. “It’s- it’s really you-” Tears finally breaking free and rolling down his cheeks, they merged with the water that was dripping from his hair. He wasn’t sure whether Metzli pulled him into a hug, or whether he had initiated the contact, but it wasn’t relevant. All that mattered was the fact that he was hugging Metzli. They were tangible, they were in front of him, their arms were holding him against them. It didn’t feel possible, and yet it was. He barely registered their words. The way they complained about him being stubborn and reminded him of the texts he had responded to with aggression. He could apologise later, and Metzli would have to understand his reasoning. Not only had his mental wellbeing been questionable after his stay with Virgil, anybody would be sceptical of a friend coming back from the dead. 

He buried his face in the crook of their neck, shelving his more complex thoughts for when he would fully be able to break them down. Inhaling their scent to distract himself, to ground himself firmly in the present, he did nothing to suppress his emotion. Sobs began to wrack his body, he was shaking uncontrollably. If he let go, they might leave. If he didn’t hold them tightly enough then maybe they would slip away from him. “How?” He asked, his voice muffled. “How- I don’t understand-” Pulling away so that he could look Metzli in the eye, his shock began to wane, and he grinned at them. His expression an even mixture of joy, confusion, and utter disbelief. “I missed you too, you have no idea how much I missed you. I thought- I thought I was never going to see you again.” 

A small but beaming smile flickered on their lips, the corners of their eyes wrinkled, and a soft chuckle graced the air. That same chuckle turned into a prolonged groan, the discomfort too much to hold in. They shook their head, looking directly in Milo’s eyes and kissed his forehead. Metzli was truly home, and they could finally wrap their arms around Milo and cement their return. “I told you. Bex. Our very rich friend has a private jet and used it to get me home.” Though they were happy, they continued to weep. Every tear represented both joy and grief, and just a little bit of fear too. Fear that none of what was in front of them was real. That maybe they were still in Mexico and Eloy had somehow used some sort of fucked up magic to create the illusion of home, the illusion of their escape. Fear that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t deserve any of what was in front of them at all. But that fear subsided, waning with every moment the two vampires held one another. Milo was real, and the family the two had created could continue to grow. They could rejoice, they could argue, they could celebrate, they could do everything in between. They could live. And maybe Metzli didn’t truly feel worthy, but they felt like enough for now. They could be enough for a little while. They didn’t have to let the waiting monster within consume them. 

“I’m home, Depresso. I’m really home.”

[deathisanartmetzli]

A Thank You Card from the Homeless Shelter

The note reads: “Thank you for your generous donation of fruit! Everyone enjoyed having something fresh to eat. Please come back and visit us soon.

Metzli looks at the card, dumbfounded as they check the mail from the gallery. They go back to the apartment and throw the note in the trash bin, knowing Bex gave away the fruit basket they sent. Tears welled in their eyes as they got into their gaming chair for a little session of COD.