#milo and metzli

[realmackross]

PARTIES: The Allgoods, @longislandcharm TIMING: July 29th (Evening/Night at Mack's Mojo Dojo Casa House) SUMMARY: The Allgoods and Winter come over for a Barbie themed sleepover at Mack's house. Good wholesome fun is had by all! :) WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw (what's new), mental health tw, alcohol abuse tw

Mackenzie was excited for the sleepover. She had made invitations. Made sure there was enough food for everyone. Had blankets and pillows at the ready. It was going to be a great night, and something she had needed for a long time. And with Winter having somewhat forgiven her, it was almost going to be like being back home. The invitation had said 6:30 pm, but at this point, as long as people showed up, it didn’t matter.

—

Alex was still surprised to receive a party invite that was extended specifically to her. She supposed she was actually doing the whole making friends thing now, which while scary, was kind of nice even if the car ride over had been a fairly quiet affair. Not that she minded all that much. Staring out the window while listening to Phoebe Bridgers was in fact a vibe. When they arrived at Mack's, she approached everyone who rode in Ariadne's car, keeping particularly close to Cass. When they walked up, she appreciated all the pink decor. A Barbie-themed sleepover was probably filling in the gap for some missed childhood experience. She waved to Mack as entered. "Hey," she greeted, "Thanks for throwing a sleepover... and inviting me. Hope you don't mind, I brought my guitar!"

—

Ever since Metzli's announcement that they were leaving, Cass had been... well, maybe down wasn't quite a strong enough word for it. She was devastated. Everything felt heavy and gloomy, the same way it always did when someone left. But this time, she had something she'd never had in the past to soften the blow: friends. The car ride with Nora, Aria, Wynne, and Alex had been quiet, but not uncomfortable. Cass already felt a little bit better just being with them. As they pulled up to Mack's house, she prepared to put on a happy face for the evening. The party wouldn't fix her... but it might distract her. She offered Mack a small, uncertain smile as they approached. "Hi," she mumbled, hoping the movie star wasn't still angry with her for the mime fiasco.

—

Ariadne hadn't entirely expected to play chauffeur to anyone except for Wynne, but Ariadne had been more than happy to drive Nora, Cass, and Alex. Especially since Nora and Cass (and Wynne) especially seemed miserable. She did her best to tap into who she was before everything, and had tried to cheer them up, with purple slushies and ham and avoiding overly peppy music. She pulled up to Mack's house and gave her a wave. "I - thanks for inviting me, even if we haven't talked a lot other than the whole dance thing I - this is nice of you." She wrapped her hand around Wynne's waist and pulled them close to her, pressing a kiss on their lips.

—

Nora didn't want to go. Didn't want anything. Wanted to sit in the pool of her own self-pity, writhing in anger and confusion. But Nora also needed something to grab onto, to believe. So when her friends asked her to go, more than one, she pulled herself out of the hell hole of her own creation and got into the car when Ariadne came to pick them up. Nora should have known this was a mistake when they pulled up to Mackenzie Ross's pink-decorated house. She shoved her hands in her pocket and forced herself not to think of it. "Sup." She mumbled, shoving past the front door and walking into the manor.

—

Milo hadn't been to a sleepover in... Well, it had been a while. And while he hadn't been feeling the best lately, he had somehow landed an invitation to a sleepover at Mackenzie Ross' house. There was no way he wasn't going to that, especially since Mack had been so nice to him so far. He was a bit nervous about who else would be there, but the last party hadn't gone terribly, and he could use some fun, honestly. He arrived at the massive manor home armed with some snacks and drinks, and an overnight bag. "Hey," Milo greeted the group. "Thanks for the invite, Mack. Your place looks amazing!"

—

When Mackenzie got the alert on her phone that people were pulling into the driveway, Mack couldn't help but let out a squeal of joy; reminiscent of her old self. All she had wanted was a nice evening where it didn't feel like life...death was complete shit. Already dressed in her pink pjs ready for the night, she went outside and started to greet everyone. It was like she was a completely different person, "Hey guys! So glad you could all make it! There's a few more people coming, I think, but go ahead and go inside and make yourself comfortable." She had been surprised to see Nora show up, but the past was the past, and she was trying to turn over a new leaf with the girl.

—

Alex smiled as Mack spoke despite the fact she felt a little nervous. A slumber party was unchartered territory and she wasn't sure what all this would entail. The decorations did fit the mood she assumed their host was going for. She was pretty sure she had just literally walked into Barbie World. "You really went full on Barbie Dreamhouse and it's giving," she told Mack. The effort was awesome and so was the fact they were all hanging out again. "Hey, Milo," she greeted as he approached with a wave. She still felt a little out of place, but she was surrounded by familiar faces who were becoming more familiar.

—

Winter hadn't been so sure about showing up at Mack's place for some party since she wasn't exactly over the girl disappearing on her but what else did she have to do? The ghost on her tail was also unenthused about this whole night which was clearly written on his face. Too bad that made Winter want to go even more. She loved to annoy him. Pulling up to her house, she rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath about this being typical Mack before making her way inside to find blobs of pink obscuring her vision. "Don't say shit about me being late. This is an assault to the eyes by the way." She gestured around them before moving further into the room towards the others she didn't know. "Winter...nice to meet you all."

—

"Winter." Nora repeated the name without much affect in her name. Most people here were familiar. Milio was here, Nora wondered if today was the day she should scare him. It could be fun, but the more she thought about it, the effort to scare someone seemed like a lot of work. Maybe she'd sit at this party and be normal, and do normal party things like stand around and eat chips from the chip bowl. "Where are the snacks?" Nora asked, disappearing into the first doorway she saw to try and find the kitchen.

—

The inside of the manor was even more impressive. Milo had only ever lived in apartments, this place was an actual dream house. He was relieved to see the familiar faces, especially those of Cass and Alex. Even if the latter had made him eat soap, he had become somewhat friendly with them. He smiled at them, offering a friendly wave to the newcomer. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Milo."

—

Alex waved. "Hey, Winter!" Her tone almost matched the vibe of the decorations. She still felt worried after her meeting with Nora in the mines, but by all indications, she'd been truthful when she said that Alex had helped. There wasn't anything in her mannerisms that was especially cold toward her either. She'd gotten the same characteristic monotone from Nora that everyone else had gotten though the bugbear had quickly gone to find snacks. So she returned her focus to the group around her and gave Milo a playful grin. "Promise I won't make you eat soap this time, bestie."

—

"I'm Ariadne," she gave a nod to Winter. "This is Wynne. My partner." She didn't let her hand leave theirs. "I brought a lot of candy, if anybody wants? I'm not the biggest fan of salty snacks. I'm much more of a sweets girl." Said with perhaps more enthusiasm than was necessary, perhaps, but she'd gotten decent at faking that this past year. The house was exceptional. She'd never been in a place this big (at least invited on purpose). "Hey Milo," she offered him a small smile.

—

Milo laughed. "I'd appreciate that, thanks." He greeted Wynne and Ariadne. "I also have salty covered," he said, holding up the bags of snacks. "Also, rum, if anyone wants drinks."

—

Mackenzie followed everyone inside, "Thanks, Alex. I just wanted to match the vibes you know? Thought we could all use something fun." All things considered in this town...She heard Nora ask about the snacks, "You're headed down the right path, Nora. Just keep going." She had heard Winter's snarky ass comment and was honestly surprised that she had showed up after their meeting at the drive-in, "Fuck you too, Bestie." She moved into the living room and somewhat relaxed, "It's been a while since I've thrown a sleepover, so if there's any games or whatever...throw 'em out. This is a night of fun, even for you Winter, you crotchety old bitch."

—

"Nice to meet you, Winter!" It felt like a battle to glue that smile onto her face, but Cass liked to think it was a convincing one. It wouldn't fool Nora or Alex or Ariadne, but it might fool some of the people who didn't know Cass quite as well. "I'll take some snacks, definitely! And, um, games would be fun. I know we did truth or dare last time, so maybe never have I ever to keep things fresh?"

—

Miyeon wasn't surprised that she was fashionably late. For someone with meticulous organization and a well-penned planner, she still found herself running late for pretty much everything that wasn't her morning show. She was surprised she got an invite to this but she was pretty sure it had to do with Mack trying to keep Miyeon from digging too far into her. Like you don't tattle on your friends or whatever so that made sense enough. "Hey,' she said as she peeked through the door. "I brought nachos. And sangria. It's pink! Well, the sangria. Not that nachos"

—

Winter waved absentmindedly at everyone introducing themselves. She'd never remember all these names. The mention of all the snacks hadn't peaked her interest until she heard"rum" and then later "nachos" and "sangria." Her ears perked at that, the girl ignoring Mack's digs at her age as she smiled at the two who had brought the alcohol. "Anyone with liquor is immediately a friend. I'm always down for Never Have I Ever if it's the drinking game version."

—

"We can do the drinking game version," Cass agreed. Her experience with alcohol was fairly limited --- technically, she wasn't even old enough to have it in the States --- but she thought it would probably help with the vibes here.

—

Seeing everyone mingling made her happy, but there seemed to be a certain sadness hanging in the air. They needed something to pep up the night. Mackenzie wasn't sure what was going on with everyone, because most of the time she lived under a rock, but Cass and Winter's idea sounded fun, despite not being able to drink or taste anything. "Yeah, let's do it! I'll go get more alcohol." She wasn't against spicing things up as long as people could have some fun.

—

"I could drink," Nora called from down the hallway. Alcohol didn't seem to work for Emilio, maybe it would work for her.

—

"I - don't really drink, but..." Ariadne, "my cousin says I should live a bit more, so... sure. Or I'll just stick with Dr. Pepper, or something like that." The nerves were setting in, now, and even though she knew that she was here to support Wynne, she found herself incredibly grateful that they were here, too.

—

Miyeon followed Nora towards where the snacks seemed to be and set down the nachos and the jug of sangria. "Hey, Nora," she said with a wave. "If you want a drink, rose sangria is a good place to start." She winked and grabbed a solo cup and started to fill it up for herself. "Never have I ever could definitely be interesting with this group."

—

Nora gave a slight shrug, filling a solo cup up with sangria. She downed it in one and filled it up again. "Never have I ever kissed someone in public." She stated, knowing full well Ariadne and Wynne had just kissed in public.

—

Alex threw a smile in Miyeon's direction when she entered the manor. It was shaping up to be a good crew and all of the faces were familiar, which made relaxing easier. Rum would also do the trick in that department. "Drinking game never have I ever it is," she exclaimed. She turned to Cass and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Any drink preferences? I can grab one for you."

—

"Whatever you're having," Cass replied to Alex with a soft smile that was a touch more genuine than the one she'd been sporting so far. "I'm not really picky." And she didn't really know enough about alcohol to know her preferences.

—

Ariadne raised an eyebrow, once again thankful she couldn't blush. She grabbed a cup of something, hoping Chance would be proud of her, and downed half of it. "Never have I ever... snuck out of my house without my parents knowing."

—

"Never have I ever is always fun," Milo nodded in a agreement. There was something in the air, vibes slightly off. "You can definitely stick to soda if you're more comfortable," he said to Ariadne. "Can also just add a tiny bit." He shrugged, giving her a smile. "I don't usually drink much myself."

—

Miyeon laughed. "Alright, damn. Make sure you have some water, too," she said as she watched Nora inhale a cup of sangria. She did in fact have to take a drink at her first declaration. "Uh yeah, no shame in that one." And then again, Ariadne was making a statement that had Miyeon drinking again. "Come on, give me one second to breathe oh my god."

—

Nora stares at Ariadne. Did Ariadne know she was a runaway? Nora hadn't mentioned that, had she? She downed the drink again. Running away was sneaking out to an extreme, after all. A buzz pulsed over her skin. Maybe things weren't so bad.

—

Mackenzie left the room and went downstairs to get more alcohol in a spare fridge that didn't contain her food. She had hoped people were enjoying themselves, but she couldn't really tell anymore. Maybe it hadn't been the right time for a sleepover.

—

Alex grabbed two solo cups full of sangria for her and Cass, immediately taking a sip from her own for Nora's statement. It was a little convenient that Ariadne had just said hers too. No one would know which she was drinking for and who didn't love a little mystery. "Here you go," she said taking a seat next to Cass. She looked around the circle and tried to think of a good thing she'd never done. "Never have I ever eaten soap," she grinned, knowing that taking a sip from his drink early on in the night would be way better than eating soap.

—

Wynne took a drink because they did sneak out that one time :/.

—

Milo mixed some of the rum with soda, and quickly took two drinks, catching up.

—

Cass took a sip for Nora's statement, lowering the cup as Ariadne made hers. Hard to sneak out without your parents knowing when you'd never known your parents to begin with. Swallowing, she shifted. "Um, never have I ever left the movie theater before the credits finished playing. Gotta catch the extra scene. You know?"

—

Winter followed the nachos. They looked delicious as well as the pink sangria that was placed next to them and soon she had a solo cup in one hand as she ate with the other. She eyed the room, noticing that a lot of these people didn't seem so into the idea until she heard the first couple of Nevers uttered, prompting her to drink both times. "Sangria's good...props on that." The third Never uttered made her raise her eyebrows though, making a point to lower her cup.

—

"Never eaten soap, but Lush has the prettiest soap I think I've ever seen. Like, way prettier than most soaps," Ariadne looked over to Cass apologetically, "I have, but I won't ever again, okay?" She nestled herself against Wynne, running her fingers against their arm.

—

Nora took another drink. She'd left movies halfway through the movie because they were boring. Her eyes followed Winter as she came to stand near Miyeon and her. "Yeah, the sangria is good." Nora agreed. There was a light flush pressed against her cheeks. Maybe tonight wasn't so bad.

—

Miyeon noted who was taking a drink and who wasn't. "Looks like we have a lot of rebels in here. Good to know." She smiled. She also took a drink at Cass's statement. She was very sweet and maybe a little naive. Miyeon made a note to look out for her if the moment arose. Ariadne, too. Didn't have to drink for the soap one at least. "Never have I ever... gone viral online."

—

Milo: And quickly added a third, throwing a playful look at Alex. "I see how it is." He took another drink at Cass'. "Never have I ever gone skinny dipping."

—

Nora blankly stared at Miyeon. A new suspicion rising. She downed the drink again. As she went to refill her cup, she wondered if the world was spinning a little. Some sticky alcoholic liquid fell on her hand, she stared at it for a minute, trying to decide how she was going to deal with this new and quickly evolving problem.

—

Wynne leaned against Ariadne and drank despite it not applying to them. They just wanted another sip.

—

Cass took another sip of her drink at Miyeon's statement. Technically it was Magma who'd gone viral --- a short video clip that the internet later decided was definitely fake --- but Cass was pretty sure it still counted. Milo's statement actually drew a quiet giggle from her, and she finished the rest of her drinks. Nymphs didn't tend to see much importance in bathing suits.

—

Alex took a drink at Milo's statement. She was pretty sure rinsing off in rivers and lakes when they didn't have a place to stay counted as skinny dipping anyway. She noticed Cass drink at going viral and looked at her curiously. That was a story for another time, she was certain. "Never have I ever seen a movie in theaters."

—

Mackenzie came back upstairs with more bottles and sat them on the counter. Pouring herself a solo cup full of the strongest liquor at the party, she went and took a seat somewhere near the circle. She noticed Miyeon had arrived, but prayed nothing happened that would give the girl scoop for her next radio show, "Never have I ever won an Oscar."

—

Wynne asked, "What is skinny dipping?"

—

"Never have I ever been a f-" Nora managed to swallow the word as her slowed mind realized that this was maybe something she shouldn't say. Her mind stalled, blanking on what she was supposed to say. "Uh. Been a uh. Movie theater." She took a drink because she had been to a movie theater like Alex stated. Then Mack was stating never have I ever won an Oscar, cause once more everyone in the room needed to know she was a famous actress. Nora's blank gaze turned to Mack. Who was supposed to drink to that? Herself?

—

Three more drinks down and Winter had to wonder how young these people actually were. She was only two years older than Mack but suddenly she felt like the crypt keeper. Still, she wasn't throwing out any of her Nevers just yet as she got a feel for who she was dealing with. Her eyes drifted to her ghoul who looked so bored he could die for a second time and Winter snorted softly before looking around at the others.

—

Alex laughed. "Unless someone in this room is secretly William Bowery, I don't think anyone here has an Oscar. Maybe an uncle Oscar or something."

—

Cass refilled her drink only to take another sip at Alex's statement, flashing her a curious look. They'd have to change that, wouldn't they? "I don't think anyone here has won an Oscar," she agreed with a quiet laugh. Looking to Wynne, she added, "Skinny dipping is swimming without any clothes on."

—

Miyeon also noted who was taking a sip during her own statement. "A room full of internet superstars, too." She noticed that Nora was looking a little wobbly. "Hey, you might want to slow down a little there," she said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want to hold anyone's hair back tonight if I don't have to." Wait, was she about to say the word fox just then? Alright, Miyeon was already planning to find a hair tie, they were gonna need it.

—

Wynne nodded at Cass and took a long drink. Though they weren't sure what an Oscar was, they had never won one.

—

Ariadne pressed her lips against Wynne's ear. "I know a place we could do that sometime, if you ever wanted." Shaking her head, she refocused on the group. "No Oscar for me either, I don't think -- who's William Bowery?" She asked Alex.

—

Mackenzie caught sight of Nora glaring at her, "Does it look like I'm drinking, Nora." She looked over to Alex, "Sorry, it was the first thing that came to mind." She looked over to Winter, but also to the man sitting next to her. That was new.

—

Milo looked between Mack and Nora before taking a long drink. Yikes. He'd certainly been to the movies before but no Oscar or viral videos for him.

—

Alex answered, "It's a pseudonym... co wrote a few Taylor Swift songs. Sweet Nothing, exile, betty... and I think those are it." She looked to Nora who did in fact look like she was drinking faster than the rest of them. Her head tilted with concern, but she wasn't sure how to press as much. Getting a good read on people was how Alex usually navigated social situations and Nora was hard to read. Maybe that'd change with time. She found she hoped it did.

—

"Sweet." Ariadne grinned at Alex. "Still getting my Taylor knowledge to exist at all. I like exile, even if it's way sad." She looked over to Nora, offering her a look that wasn't sympathy (as she didn't think Nora would be receptive to that), but was comforting, she hoped.

—

Milo took a handful of chips before casually offering the bag to Nora.

—

Mackenzie looked back over to Nora, "Are you okay?"

—

Nora doesn't like that more people were giving her attention. Looking at her while she looked like this. Nora's blank expression, still well practiced, stared back at each of them in return. "Fine." Fine, she'd slow down if they all stopped looking. "I am okay. This is a fun party, Mack." She took the bag of chips and somehow fumbled a few into her mouth. "Good chips." She answered, swaying slightly in place.

—

"Thanks, I'm glad you're having fun." Mackenzie wasn't sure Nora was, but she was concerned for her well being. "Eat all the chips you want. There's a couple of different dips in the fridge too if you're into that sort of thing."

—

Miyeon would make sure to check that Nora wasn't curled up in the bathroom later that evening. For now, she downed her drink and poured another. She had to catch up after all. Also, things were getting too serious or whatever. Time to lighten the mood. "Never have I ever not done wolf girl jumps at a party." Her words were slurring a little but she was pretty sure that made sense.

—

"I prefer using the name William when talking about him, his real name doesn't deserve to be in conversation." Winter drank again but only because she needed to get drunk to deal with this much longer, something that also prompted the next Never out of her mouth so that she could gulp down the rest of her beverage while still being in the game. "Never have I ever had my Julie Andrews moment and mattress surfed down the stairs."

—

She could sense Wynne's quiet unease, even if they weren't entirely showing it, and stood up, giving their arm a small tug. "We'll - uh, we'll be back in a little while." Ariadne pulled them along, off to find a quiet, empty room where they could just be together. Once said room was acquired, she gave them a deeper kiss, pulling their body close to hers. "Figured we could use some time just the two of us."

—

Milo laughed, drinking at Miyeon's statement, only to grin at Winter. "Oh, man, what an iconic scene. I always thought that looked so fun, but we didn't have the stairs to try to do it at home." He took another drink, thinking back on watching Princess Diaries with his sisters.

—

“Sorry I’m late, but I brought Dippin’ Dots,” Chaisai called, juggling a handful of flavors of ice cream novelty cups as Chaisai breezed through the door.

—

Mackenzie heard the door open and saw Chai enter, "Hey! Welcome to the chaos that is Never Have I Ever. Kitchen's that way." She motioned with her head, "And while you're there grab a solo cup and come join the fun."

—

Alex looked to Cass, assuming she'd know what the heck Winter was talking about. "Julie Andrews moment," she asked in a whisper.

—

Miyeon was intrigued by this proposal by Winter. "Okay I've never done that but like, there's no time like the present, right?" She looked over to Mack to see if she was going to go for it.

—

"It's totally fun, you really should try to do it at one point." Looking at the new arrival, Winter contemplated following just for the ice cream of the future but then she spotted the stairs not far out of eyeline. "Actually, Mack has a nice set of stairs there."

—

"Oh! Can I grab a mattress?" The idea did sound like the sort of thing that would cheer her up. Maybe when Milo was done, Cass would take a turn of her own. She turned to Mack, flashing her a hopeful look. She didn't think the movie star was her biggest fan, but... Maybe she'd be okay with this. For the sake of the party and all.

—

Nora nodded, still swaying lightly on the spot. "Mack has a good set of stairs." Then Cass was getting excited about it, Nora thought. And Nora was happy because Cass was happy, and found something she wanted to do that looked fun. And Cass deserved to have fun at a party. Nora gave Cass a thumbs up.

—

"Uh, considering I haven't done anything crazy daring lately..." Except kill a huge spider... "Count me in!" Mack stood up and walked over to Cass, much like she had at the last party, "Let's go grab a mattress." She reached out her hand with a smile.

—

"Oh, fuck yes," Milo exclaimed. Mattress surfing and Dippin Dots? ...he might be feeling the drinks a little, but he was so in.

—

Ray entered for the first time

Ray left the chat

—

Mack was reaching for her hand, and Cass smiled, glad to see that things did seem to be mending a little between the two of them. "Save us some Dippin Dots," she ordered, taking Mack's hand and letting the movie star lead the way to the nearest mattress to be repurposed for stair surfing.

—

Alex was starting to put two and two together with the whole mattress surfing thing. Cass looked so excited that she couldn't help but catch some of that thrill herself even though she would decidedly not be surfing on a mattress that night. "Go do mattress beach, Barbies!"

—

Chai entered the kitchen and poured himself a drink and unceremoniously deposited the Dippin’ Dots on the counter before returning to the heart of the party. “Did I hear mattress surfing? Like that princess movie?”

—

Ray arrived a little late to the party after his shift at the restaurant. He'd had a few drinks on the way over to curb his anxiety in the crowds and was proceeding to try and keep up with the rest as they drank more and more. even drinking to ones he'd never done to fit in a little. "That sounds fun."

—

Mackenzie had let go of the frustration she had been harboring with the younger girl. It had been more of a concern than anything, but here they were about to mattress surf and make good memories! Mack led her upstairs towards one of the spare bedrooms, "We can grab this one. I think it's perfect for mattress surfing." She started taking off the comforter, pillows, and sheets.

—

"I've lived out my Princess Diary dreams, you guys have fun. I'm going for the dots." Maybe not eating the way she was supposed to this past month was starting to catch up with her because all of this food seemed to be calling her name. Being a little buzzed didn't help either. Winter made her way to the counter with the ice cream and grabbed a random flavor before she came back to watch the goings on. She playfully reached over with her spoon towards the ghost at her side just to annoy him before she took another bite. "Thank you for bringing these."

—

Milo got up to help the girls. "Hey, Ray!" he called over his shoulder.

—

Ray smiled at Milo and moved to put his bottle down to come to help as well "Hey dude, you going to surf too?"

—

Alex waved and said, "Hey, Soup!"

—

As the others mingled, Cass helped Mack grab the mattress. It was big. Bigger than she'd really expected it to be. She had an embarrassingly limited experience with something as simple as mattresses, had only ever really slept on cots and couches when she could find them, and the ground when she couldn't. It felt heavier than she'd expected, too, but she wouldn't let Mack see it. After the mime fiasco, she desperately wanted Mack to think she was cool and normal and nice. She'd do anything for that, especially now. "Okay," she grunted, nodding. "I got a grip. Come on!" Afraid she'd drop the mattress if she took too long with it, she rushed forward pushing both Mack and the mattress along.

—

That zombie strength would have come in handy right about now. Mackenzie could tell she was footing a lot of the weight, but it was okay. Once they got it to the edge of the steps, they'd be good to go. The night was definitely going so much better than she could have imagined. Everyone was having a good time, and Mack was able to let loose for once and not feel so paranoid. As she moved forward, she could tell Cass was using all her strength and it was causing Mackenzie to stumble, "Hey, Cass, slow down just a little will you?" Okay, maybe they should have just drug the thing instead. As she kept walking, she felt Cass push again, but this time Mackenzie couldn't control the additional weight, and before she knew it, she was pushed into the railing, before the mattress gave her the final push she needed to go over the railing. Everything suddenly flashed back to the day she died on the set of Dropped. And as much as she wanted to scream or try to better prepare herself to land safely, all the training in the world couldn't help her. Instead, she hit the hardwood floor head first cracking her neck and back for the second time with a hard thud. And once again, the world went dark.

—

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just trying to..." Cass trailed off, unable to focus on both supporting the weight of the mattress and carrying on a conversation. She grunted a little, shoving the mattress forward again. This was the problem with having a huge house, right? So much more ground to cover. She didn't mean to shove the mattress into Mack... but that was exactly what happened. And then, Mack was losing her footing, was stumbling over the edge, and was hitting the ground with a crack that Cass thought would live in her mind forever. Her breath caught in her throat, and she dropped the mattress to run to the edge of the railing, looking over with a nauseous feeling tugging at her gut. There was Mack, laying on the floor below with cracks rippling out from the tile around her. Not moving, not breathing. For a moment, Mack was Kuma, was Debbie. Cass thought she might be sick. "Oh my god," she said, panic gripping her. "Oh my god. I didn't --- I didn't mean to. Oh my god. Nonononono."

—

Miyeon's hands clasped to her mouth, gasping as she saw Mack tumble over the side of the balcony. The sound of her neck cracking, the thud to the hard floor echoed through the house. For a moment, Miyeon was frozen in place, stunned by shock. Had she just watched someone die? Had she just seen Mack Ross /die/? Her heart was pounding in her chest and she ran over to see if the host was alright. She reached down to her splayed out wrist, trying to feel for a pulse. There was nothing. She could feel panic grip her, her breaths growing shorter. She didn't know what to do and, for once, she had no idea what to say.

—

If he’d have blinked, he would’ve missed it. But he hadn’t. It happened almost I’m slow motion. One second Mack was tipping over the railing, and the next she was crumpled on the floor below. “Oh, shit!” Chaisai exclaimed. Mack didn’t look good, but he couldn’t bring himself to step towards her. He could not be the sober one here. Responsibility was not his strong suit. He downed the remainder of his glass before taking a single, deliberate step towards his friend. “Uh, hey, Barbie. Get up, please. Please?”

—

One minute Winter was eating the delicious ice cream and enjoying the buzz and then the next all she heard was the sickening crunch of Mack literally landing on her head after falling from the balcony above. Everything went into slow motion, the Dippin' Dots slipping from her hands and landing on the ground while she stared at her friend laying there. She watched as one of the others went forward and checked for a pulse, rooted to the spot, and when it was obvious that there wasn't anything to feel she let a whimper leave her lips.

—

Milo had been going up the stairs to assist Mack and Cass. He wasn't incredibly strong or anything, but he figured another pair of hands couldn't hurt. He was about halfway up when he saw Mack tumble over her railing. There wasn't enough time for him to even try to react before she had hit the ground with a horrifying, stomach turning crack. He stared wide eyed at her body at the ground, neck bent at an unnatural angle, frozen for a moment before he came to his senses. "Oh my god," he breathed. This wasn't happening. This could not be happening.

—

Ray was turning to greet Alex as well when he heard the creak of the bannister, head swivelling back around he caught the very moment that Mack hit the ground. A guttural yell escaped Ray as he registered the bones he'd heard crunching and the sight of Mack on the floor. Dead. She had to be dead. He was stock still and unmoving as he whispered to Ryan in his head "Is she gone? Can you tell?" Looking to Miyeon as she checked for a pulse.

—

Nora knew she was drunk. Nora knew that alcohol buzzed in her vein, clouding her thoughts much like her time in the mines. But as Mack's neck cracked against the wooden floor, she had trouble grasping it. This couldn't be real right? This was just a joke? Wasn't Mack proud of her acting skills? "Get up Mack, come on, it's not funny." Nora's words slurred as she spoke them. "Mack?" Nora tried to take a step forward, but the world was spinning around her. "Fuck." She said finally, sitting down on the floor, giving up on movement. "Not again."

—

Alex had been sipping her drink and watching Cass from afar as she helped Mack get the mattress over to the stairs. Everything happened so fast that she couldn't even get a word out before Mack was tumbling over the balcony and a crack was echoing in her ears. She automatically tuned in on Cass, who's heartbeat was moving more rapidly with every second and quickly leapt up to go over to her. It was an accident and Alex was a bit stunned that someone was dead but she had to make sure Cass was alright. "Hey," she said softly, "You didn't mean to, it was an accident. Just breathe slowly, ok?" She placed a hand on Cass's back and tried to rub soothing circles despite the fact she felt like she was going to be sick. There was a slight tremble in her fingertips that she hoped wasn't felt by the oread. The whimper that left Winter's lips told her everything she needed to know.

—

Alex was there in a heartbeat, standing in front of Cass and telling her to breathe. Breathe, like Mack wasn't. Because Cass had killed her. The panic was all-encompassing, to the point that she didn't hear Nora's muttered 'not again,' didn't register Miyeon checking Mack for a pulse, and didn't take note of Winter's whimper. All that existed was the body on the floor and the fact that Cass had put it there. She tried to look at Alex, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the corpse. She couldn't focus on anything else. "I killed her. I killed Mack Ross. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."

—

Miyeon had never seen anyone die. She couldn't comprehend it. It didn't make sense. One moment Mack was there and now she wasn't. She was gone. And all that was left was a dead body that Miyeon was crouching next to. Oh god, that was a dead body. She scooted away on the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling herself in on herself. "Wh--what do we do?" her voice cracked even at a whisper. "She-- she--she..." Miyeon gulped trying to find her next words. "She's dead." Miyeon couldn't tell if she wanted to scream or cry or simply curl into a ball and disappear. Maybe all of them at once.

—

"What do we do?" Winter was still rooted to the spot, her voice a horse whisper as if anything above that would break even more in the room. What did they do? When Mack disappeared from her life months before she had been pissed at the girl but still thought she would see her again and now...now she was definitely gone. She could feel tears welling up but she refused to let them fall. No, they had to figure this out. There was no time for crying.

—

Another crisis for Cass. Nora was grateful Alex was there helping her. Nora wanted to help too, but her legs had buckled under her. Why had she drunk so much? No one else had drunk as much as her? That was so dumb of her. "We dispose of the body." Nora answered. Cass wasn't going to jail for this. They weren't going to jail cause of a dumb accident. "And we never talk about it again." Which, in her drunk slur, sounded silly and not at all serious like the moment intended.

—

He didn't know what to do, wasn't sure he was breathing. Everything the others were saying sounded muffled under the sound of his blood rushing. This couldn't be happening. She had to be okay. There was no way they had all just watched Mack Ross die. He stumbled down the stairs, wanting to check her pulse- Miyeon had to be wrong- but once he was standing there, staring over at her, he couldn't get himself to move any closer. No. No, no, no, no, no. He wasn't sure if he had said it aloud. He couldn't- This couldn't be happening again. His head snapped up at Nora's suggestion, though. "What?! We can't just- This isn't- We have to tell someone! I'm not going-" Milo couldn't get the words out. He wasn't going along with this, this wasn't going to be another fucking death pit situation.

—

Of all the things that could have been suggested, that was not what Winter had expected. Immediately she snapped, her eyes finally leaving Mack as she turned her head towards Nora. "What the fuck? Maybe we call a fucking ambulance? We could be wrong, right?" Even if they weren't wrong, and there was no way they were, Mack still deserved more than a fucking body dump.

—

Alex had hardly had anything to drink, but the suggestion still made her feel sick to her stomach. Even if it was an accident, they'd been underaged and drinking and she couldn't see it shaking out well for Cass. It felt shitty. Mack was her friend. It was new, sure, but they were giving the whole friendship thing a try even if it was new to both of them. But it was Cass and she couldn't let her go to jail. All she could do was nod and move her hand to take Cass's in her own instead. The silent gesture said more than words could, it let her know that Alex was going to be there no matter what they had to do.

—

Ray finally got control of his feet but couldn't get them to do anything useful - especially when all his body really screamed for him to do was run away. But he always ran away. He had to stop. But what were they going to do? Were they actually going to dump a body? "Is that the only way?" he wondered quietly looking to Nora and finally tearing his eyes away from the corpse.

—

Everything was muffled. Words were jumbled. Nothing made sense. But there was a brightness. The lights above. Mackenzie could recognize light. She could recognize that there were other people around her, but everything felt off. She couldn't move. At least not at the moment. But she knew her body was doing something - healing itself. And with the healing came an insatiable need to feed. She was soooo hungry. Food was all that mattered and the room she was laying in currently held many options. Easy pickings. Who first? The little one on the floor? The two on the balcony. She could make out blurs of shapes as her eyesight started to come back. The ones on the floor would be the easiest, because right now her legs and neck were not working. Groaning slightly, she started to move her arms. Things were starting to work, but pitifully. Grunting, Mackenzie began crawling towards Nora. Fitting, since she had just suggested dumping her body, but Mack didn't hear that. All she knew was food. Nothing logical, since she was still in her infancy and dumb as a box of rocks.

—

"I don't want to go to jail. Oh god. Oh my god. They're gonna --- They'll put me in ---" She couldn't even form a thought. What would happen to her? This wasn't some random person Cass had killed. This was a movie star, someone famous, someone loved. There was no way they'd do anything less than throw the book at her. The public would hate her. She'd rot in prison. And then what? What even happened when someone not human was arrested? Were there protocols in place, rules? Would they lock her in a special cell, or would they just kill her? She didn't want to find out. "We can't! If we call for an ambulance, they'll --- We're going to get in trouble and I don't --- We should --- We should promise not to tell. We should..." The body groaned. Mack groaned. And moved. Crawling towards Nora, looking... hungry? "What the fuck is happening?"

—

Of course, Mack had been acting. What kind of fucking play was everyone working on? Nora watched as the body groaned and started crawling towards her. "Come on Mack. We get it. You're an actor, you're sooo good at playing dead. What is all of this?" Because Nora, despite accepting the supernatural, despite being trained by a slayer, wouldn't consider something as supernatural as the undead at a Barbie's Dream House Party.

—

“Dispose of the body?” Chai echoed, incredulous. “Cave girl, we cannot do that. We should probably—we should—I don’t know what we should do.” Should they call the police? It was an accident, no one should get in trouble for that. But the potential for underage drinking was there, he figured, looking around at the group. Would that be a problem? “We can’t throw her away,” he insisted. A feeling of dread snaked its way up his spine. images of his friend being struck by lightning flashed across his mind and he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he looked back towards their friend— their dead friend—and suddenly the corpse moved. “Holy shit. Nope. Nope.” With that, he turned away, heading for the kitchen. He was definitely too sober for this.

—

Fuck. Milo plopped onto the ground. He was shaking and his chest was stuttering and he wasn't breathing properly, and already he could feel that familiar tingling underneath his skin. He needed to breathe. He couldn't lose control here. But then Mack's body started moving, scaring the ever loving shit out of him, and a lamp went flying across the room, shattering against the wall. "What the fuck?!"

—

Alex usually hated her sense of hearing, but in that moment, she was grateful that she was quick to realize Mack was moving. She had been dead and now she was moving with a hungry look in her eyes. She honed in on the sounds coming from Mack and notably a heartbeat was not one of them which could only mean one thing. Shit. Mack was undead and while she didn't know much, that meant she was probably as ravenous as Alex was on the full moon. Did she know she was undead? Alex hoped so, that would mean she had a stash of food for herself somewhere, but she had to be quick. "Cass, Nora," she directed, "You keep an eye on Mack. Do not let her get close to you or anyone else until I get back. Got it?" If anyone could handle a hungry undead, it would be the giant bear and the superhero, even if the former was more than a little intoxicated and the latter in a state of shock.

—

Again, a noise had her head snapping in another direction only to find Mack moving. How the holy… Winter couldn't wrap her mind around what was happening right now and even with Nora's words she felt her stomach drop. Even if Mack was an actor she knew better than to think she would pull something like this on everyone here. Winter might have but not her, right? The lamp flying across the room elicited a scream. With everything happening she was super jumpy. "What the actual fuck?!?"

—

Ray muffled a scream when the body started to move again. She'd been dead. She'd been confirmed dead. In a panic, wanting to get everyone away from whatever was happening he rushed for Nora and scooped her off the floor and moved them rapidly away from Mack. "What's going ON?"

—

A lot was going on. All of it was confusing. Fear was an intoxicating snack for Nora, and she reveled in the sweet snacks of her friends as they all freaked out. For what? Mack's acting wasn't even that good. She just fell and played dead. A sober Nora, one who could read a room and pay attention to many facts, may have picked up on the true seriousness of this situation, but Nora was really into making a fool of herself lately. Ray was picking her off the floor and pulling her away from the crawling Mack, but Ray was a runner. He would be scared of anything. Nora patted his arm gently, there, there. This wasn't even scary.

—

Alex figured if there was a stash of blood in the manor, it wouldn't be in the main fridge she had guests going into. If that had been the case, someone would have already called Mack out on it. There had to be another fridge somewhere. Maybe her bedroom, basement, or garage. The size of the house had seemed cool before, but now it seemed overwhelming. She was 5'1" and while she was quick, that was a lot of ground to cover. She wasn't sure she'd be able to pick up on the smell, but maybe she'd be able to hear the hum of another refrigerator. She normally tuned that out, but she ripped her ear plugs out and closed her eyes to get a sense of what direction to go in. She ran as fast as her feet could take her down the stairs, shuffling around rooms until she found the two refrigerators. In a rush, she ripped the doors open on both, breaking the door off the one that seemed to be for human food. Well, at least if she had this many fridges it wouldn't be an issue to replace later. She quickly gathered as many containers of brains and body parts as she could and flew back up the stairs. As she reached outside, one of the containers fell on the ground, but she couldn't be bothered to stop and instead raced toward Mack. She quickly knelt down and took the lid off one of the tupperware with brains. She handed it to Mack carefully. "Here," she said softly, "You'll feel better after you eat this. I can grab and send someone down to crab more, too. Cass or Nora won't be freaked out by it."

—

Mackenzie heard the voice yelling at her. She still couldn't make out the words. The only thing on her mind was eating. She needed her strength. She needed food. Nora looked like a mighty tasty blur. As she pulled herself forward with her arms dragging herself across the floor, Mackenzie groaned louder, before the word food escaped her mouth. She saw another human figure scoop up her prey. Growling in anger, Mackenzie felt her strength grow along with a healing crack of her back. Pushing herself up off of the floor to her knees and then to wobbly feet, the actress grabbed her head and cracked her neck back into place, "Hungry..." Looking around, her eyes hazy and glazed over, she spotted Winter and started to move towards her.

—

Miyeon thought she was shocked before but then the dead body moved. Mack Ross was dead on the ground one second and then standing up the next. She didn't move. Other than her jaw hanging open in shock, her eyes stuck to the girl who was definitely up and walking after she snapped her neck. She was frozen in place, trying to hold her legs tighter to keep from shaking. She was one second away from just turning into a fox. It might be the only way she could figure out how to move. "Someone t-tell me what is going on?" she whimpered. A lamp crashed and made her jump out of her shock. Yeah, fuck this, she didn't care who knew or who saw what. A burst of smoke surrendered Miyeon and in her place was a small fox, scurrying away to Nora, hiding behind her legs.

—

Keep an eye on her? Why? Cass wasn't thinking logically, but she trusted Alex. "I'll make sure she's okay," she said, moving towards Mack cautiously. She crouched down next to the movie star, reaching out to put a hand on her arm just as Alex rejoined the party with... tupperware? "I don't think she wants a snack, Alex," she said with uncertainty.

—

Winter was having a psychotic break, that was the only explanation. First a ghost was following her around, one who looked decidedly amused at this point, and now her friend was coming back from the dead and snapping her neck into place while things flew across the room on their own. She had to be in some room back home making this up in her head. Did she miss Mack that much? Now a person was a fox? Yea, she had lost it. That was all there was to it.

—

Alex realized how close Cass was to Mack and whispered urgently, "You need to back up, Cass. She needs the snack. It's not a human thing."

—

"Alex, I don't think this is a good time for flirting," Cass replied uncertainly. "She's hurt."

—

Chaisai pounded a glass and re-entered the crime scene in time to see Alex return with…leftovers. He turned to ask anyone else what the hell was happening when he saw something that caught him off guard. “Is that a fox?” he asked no one in particular. “What is even happening tonight?” All of this had to be some immense prank, and it wasn’t very funny. The fox seemed out of place, too.

—

Milo saw Alex returning with tupperware, and noticed the one that had fallen had opened to reveal what appeared to be a brain. Fuck this town. "What the fuck is wrong with this town?" Milo shuddered at the sound of Mack's neck snapping back into a normal position, pulling himself up and away from the zombie??? Only to see Miyeon disappear and a fox to appear in her place. What the fuck?!?!?

—

Alex shook her head. "I'm not flirting with you, Cass," she retorted in a hushed voice, "Mack is a zombie. If she doesn't eat what I just gave her she's probably gonna eat everyone at this party. And no, still not flirting. I mean literally, not in a fun way."

—

Ray felt Nora pet him on the arm but he was very busy watching Mack for what she was going to do next. He didn't let up his hold on the bugbear for a second, she was clearly too far gone and needed to stay away. This wasn't right, there was something going on here. The sickening crack of her neck going back into place made his stomach turn as the others started to put themselves between Mack and the Party.

—

Nora's head swam. Ray was panicked, Miyeon was a fox between her legs, Winter, that was her name right? Her ghost looked like he was having fun. That was nice. Ghosts deserve to have fun. Alex was giving instructions. Did Nora need to go get something? What did Nora need to go get? Maybe she would never drink again. Maybe having control of her conscious thoughts was a lot better then the fuzz that settled it now, even if it worked. In this confusion, she'd forgotten to think about her body and the mines.

—

A zombie? Mack Ross was a zombie? Had she always been a zombie? Cass's brow furrowed as she looked at the tupperware in Alex's hands a little closer. Brains. Okay, so the zombie thing wasn't a new development. Her eyes scanned the room --- Nora, drunk and confused with a fox that... probably had to be Miyeon hiding behind her. Winter, having a breakdown in a way that was totally not how Cass liked to meet new people. Chai and Milo, both looking more than a little lost. Ray, watching it all unfold. Was this what parties were always like? "Um, okay. Mack Ross is a zombie. Cool. Okay. Sure. What the fuck?"

—

Mackenzie had noticed Cass coming towards her. Food that was right in her path was so much easier than the person freaking out on the other side of the room. Reaching out, she moved in the direction of Cass before grabbing her and pulling her in closer with extreme strength. Leaning her newly healed neck to the side, she opened her mouth wide and laid into Cass's shoulder with a hard bite. However, whatever she bit into wasn't budging. Mack growled in frustration as she gnawed on what felt like a rock. Angry, she pushed Cass as hard as she could out of the way, before smelling the brains that Alex had brought up from downstairs. Turning her attention on the werewolf, she started moving towards Alex, "Brains..." She reached out trying to grab the food that wasn't quite in her reach yet.

—

Nora picked the fox up. The fox was soft. Nora buried her face in the soft fox coat. This was a fun party, she thought, enjoying more tasty fear snacks.

—

"Hey!" Cass screeched in a damn good impression of a banshee, jumping back as Mack Ross's zombie teeth tried to take a bite out of her shoulder. "You're gonna rip my shirt!" She hadn't broken the skin --- Cass's skin was pretty hard to break, after all --- but her shirt was all wet with zombie slobber now. Gross. At least the brains seemed to spark something. Cass grabbed the tupperware from Alex, much more content to put her hard-to-bite hand in the line of fire than risking Alex meeting the zombie's teeth, and thrust it towards her. "Here!"

—

Alex rushed towards Cass when she realized Mack was about to bite her only to let out a breath of relief when that didn't go according to plan. Even though Cass always had a certain radiance about her, it was easy to forget that she was stone and magma underneath it all. Before she could reach out to nudge the container towards Mack, Cass was already doing so. She was grateful the oread had caught on and she quickly looked to inspect her. "Are you ok?"

—

Miyeon was moving. Oh god, the world was moving and she was getting taller all a sudden. Then she realized there were hands grabbing her. Hands that smelled like Nora's. Oh, okay, she was petting her. That was fine. She snuggled into her friend. It definitely felt like the safest option. The wolf girl and rock girl could take care of the not dead girl.

—

"I'm okay," Cass assured Alex, turning to let her look at the shoulder in question. "See? No harm done." She directed the last part towards Mack, too, knowing that if their roles were reversed, she'd want to make sure she hadn't hurt anyone. Glancing over to where Nora had Miyeon, she was pleased to see the both of them safe, too. And the boys all looked alright, which mostly left... "Um... Hey, Winter? Are you, uh... How are you doing?"

—

Mackenzie yanked the brain out of the container and started to sloppily shove it in her mouth. Dropping to the floor, she consumed the brain without savoring it knowing it wasn't going to do much considering she had just died AGAIN. When she was finished, she could automatically feel things start to make sense again, but she still had a need to feed, "Alex...food. Want more food." She looked up at the person she knew to be Alex.

—

Ray was stunned as things started to seem to wind down again. It felt like a fever dream. "Uhm excuse me but ...what the actual fuck?"

—

The sight of Mack biting another human was the icing on the cake of this whole night, Winter leaning back against the wall and nodding at whoever was talking to her. "Oh, I'm so good right now." Even in times of crisis sarcasm tended to take over but there was less bite than usual in her tone. Her gaze kept flicking between Mack and the fox and then to the person Mack had bit. Cass...they were the one who had asked, right? "What is going on?"

—

Milo knew necromancy was a thing, but he wasn't sure what the fuck all of this was. This seemed proper Night of the Living Dead zombie shit. "Yeah, seconding that. What the fuck? Also, she just bit you, Cass???"

—

Now that she was a tall fox, Miyeon was able to see the ghost floating around Winter. Her little kitsune stomach started to grumble. And the nachos were not going to cut it. She tilted her little head and made a small little yip, asking to be let down. She wanted a snack, too. And she didn't want the gross-smelling whatever it was that Mack was eating. She was just going to eat a little bit of the ghost, it would be fine.

—

“She, um, she didn't bite me very hard! Didn't even break the skin!" Cass rubbed at her shoulder, pretending it hurt. "It'll just be a bruise, that's all." She looked to Mack with uncertainty. She thought she was probably up to speed now, but it wasn't really up to her to tell everyone else, was it? If Mack wanted a lie... well, she'd need someone other than Cass to tell it.

—

Alex was relieved that the only damage done was some slobber on Cass's shirt. "Okay, good," she said, reaching to give Cass's hand a squeeze before returning her attention to Mack. Cass was checking in on the others and Mack was devouring the brain from the container. Alex quickly grabbed another and shoved it towards the zombie. "Here," she said. She looked for Nora in the crowd and saw her holding a... fox? The fox girl thing suddenly made sense. Huh. And everyone else had a lot of questions that Alex had no idea how to answer, so she looked to Mack, hoping she'd have her fill enough soon to give whatever the PR reason for this would be.

—

Nora, face still pressed to the softest fox she'd ever held, was sad to let Miyeon go. But Nora had always lived by the motto, animals only stayed as long as they wanted. That went with her new friend too. Nora put the fox down. "It wasn't very cool of Mack to bite Cass like that. They should take away her Emmy. Crimes against Cass."

—

"Also, can we address the fact that Miyeon turned into a fox because." Fuck, she had said something about a fox girl at the last party. Milo had thought she was just a furry, he didn't think he meant she was a literal fucking fox!

—

Alex looked around and shrugged, "Uh.... We're all just really drunk?"

—

Milo gave Alex a look. "Bestie..."

—

Alex stifled a laugh under the pressure. "Okay, you got me there," she relented, "But I am very specifically not Mack Ross' PR so I will let her explain her stunts."

—

"I had one cup." She whispered the words, now spotting the fox nibbling on the ghost following her around but Winter wasn't very concerned about that even if he seemed to be. Wait, the fox was biting the ghost? Was that normal?

—

Ray made a face and leaned down to mumble to Nora "Are there other people here that are...like you and stuff too?"

—

Chaisai could feel the anxiety begin to ebb away. “This is a really weird prank.” Something deep in the pit of his stomach tugged at him, told him that something stranger than a prank was at hand here. “Wait, where did she go?” The fox could not be their friend. “I’m not drunk either,” Chai said, agreeing with Winter. “So are we all like, weird here, or is it just…” He let the question hang in the air, looking from Mack to the fox and back.

—

Fox Miyeon was running towards Winter, which seemed like a bad idea. Winter was already having some kind of a breakdown. Cass wanted to tell Miyeon that maybe she should take it easy, but... There was so much going on. It was a little hard to figure out what she should be focusing on. She looked to Mack, chewing her lip for a moment and offering her a small nod. However Mack wanted to play this, Cass would follow along. She owed her that much after tossing her off a balcony.

—

Mackenzie consumed the other brain enjoying all the meaty bits of it. Finally, something more satisfying was happening. She started to feel like her old self. Memories came flooding back. Names started to slowly come back. And when she realized where she was at and vaguely what was happening, she knew she had to go back downstairs. If she didn't eat enough, they were all going to be scrambling for their lives again, except Cass, who was surprisingly tough. Looking around, she could feel emotions again and that sucked harder than the fox sucking on the ghost. Without words, she stumbled downstairs and towards the room with the fridge. The door was gone, but that was okay. It didn't matter at this point. She just wanted the contents.

—

Miyeon trotted off towards the ghost, but it was a little too far away. She leaped onto a chair and then hopped onto the table and was about to take a little nibble of plasmic energy when she heard her name and her ears swiveled towards the source, turning to see that it was Milo. Oh. Right. Whoops. She did sort of shift in the middle of a party, didn't she? She hadn't even thought about it long enough to weigh the consequences. Between the not-dead dead body and the flying lamp and the buzz of the sangria, she sort of didn't have the time. Cool cool cool. She should probably shift back. But her clothes were in the middle of the room. Uh, the tablecloth was going to have to do. She nuzzled her nose under the edge of the fabric and shoved as much of herself as she could underneath it before poofing back into her human form, wrapping the tablecloth around her to try and cover up as much as she could. "Um, don't ask. Can you hand me my clothes, Milo? Please?" She saw the looks she was getting. Yup, okay, this was fine. "Literally don't worry about it. What's going on with Mack? Is she dead? Is she not? What is going on?"

—

"Fair enough, I guess." Though Alex did seem to be the one who knew what the fuck was going on. Seeing another poof of smoke followed by Miyeon poking her head out from under the table just confirmed his suspicions. She had definitely turned into a fox, then. And Mack had just wandered off??? "Seems like we're all weird here, yeah," Milo nodded, a bewildered look on his face as he gathered Miyeon's clothes. His hands were still shaking, but the events of the past few minutes were so fucking weird that he wasn't freaking out as much. That was a plus. As he neared the table, he averted his gaze, feeling incredibly awkward as he held out the bundle of clothes in his hand.

—

Chaisai covered his eyes out of respect, despite this bewildering turn of events.

—

Nora watched Mack consume a brain. Maybe this wasn't acting. Maybe this was. Nora didn't know, but Miyeon was naked now and it felt like a real television party suddenly. Nudity was always included in those.

—

Miyeon said "Thanks," and took her clothes back and ducked behind the counter to quickly throw them back on.

—

Mackenzie made her way through quite a bit of the food she had stored up, and when she was finished everything felt normal again. Well as normal as dying in front of your friends, coming back and trying to eat them, and then consuming brains in front of them could be. FUCK. They had just seen all of that. They knew what she was. Winter knew what she was. Walking back upstairs, she quietly stood at the doorway. With "Dance The Night" from the Barbie soundtrack blasting in the background, Mackenzie knew she had to follow the lyrics of the song and present herself with poise. She had done this before, right? This was part of life in the spotlight. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Hey guys...so, uh, what'd I miss..." Her smile was uneasy; mouth covered in slime and other things; skin pale; and her eyes still somewhat white and glazed with the skin on her neck bruised from previously being broken.

—

"We're all weird here..." It was all starting to sink in and Winter glanced at her ghost in time to see the fox had turned back into a person. If she had a ghost and he had been told all of her life about mediums it would have been ignorant to think that other things didn't exist, right? It was a lot all at once so she let her body slide down the wall so she could take a seat and breathe a little. "What did you miss?"

—

Milo couldn't help but laugh. "Well, you died, and freaked everyone out so much that someone turned into a fox, so." He snorted. "I'm so sorry. This is just fucking nuts, and I've felt like I've been going insane lately. Came here to get away from that, but I should've known better in this town." He took a few breaths. "Sorry. I'm glad you're okay? I guess? Also, sorry about your lamp."

—

Ray finally let Nora go, taking a deep breath. It seemed Mack was back to...normal felt like too big of a stretch for the moment. Everyone had secrets it seemed. He wanted to go to bed. He didn't quite know what to say to Mack or anyone really. "There's bits of glass on the floor from the lamp watch out?" he offered instead of anything of substance. "Got a brush?"

—

Alex nodded as the group seemed to acknowledge they were all weird in some way. A few years ago, that would freaked her out and even though she struggled with how she saw herself, something about this band of weirdos made her feel a little more okay about it. "Guess we are," she said nonchalantly. She gave Mack a knowing look as she returned and simply nodded. They could discuss *that* later.

—

The fact that this had all been happening while the Barbie movie soundtrack had been playing was just the icing on the disaster cake. Milo rushed to help Ray as the other went to clean up the mess. "I can get it. My fault anyway."

—

Miyeon tilted her head as she looked back at Milo. "Wait, that was your fault?" she asked. She had kind of assumed it was the ghost. "Okay so like you missed a lot. Sort of maybe because you died. I don't know. But like there's a lot going on here. Clearly." She looked over at Milo, Winter, Nora, Cass, Alex, and her gaze landed on Mack last. "Um, but, I guess everyone's okay? Mostly? Are we good? Is it time to keep partying now?" She wasn't sure what she hoped the answer was going to be if she was honest.

—

Chaisai sighed. This night got weird quickly. “Alright. Never have I ever died. Anyone else? Never have I ever turned into an animal. Can we talk about what the fuck is happening? Where’s Ashton, ‘cause it feels like we’re being punk’d. Is this Celebrity Pranks?”

—

Ray dropped to a knee next to the shattered lamp and shook his head lightly "Don't worry dude it's-...your fault? What do you mean..." he trailed off for a second before mumbling to the other "I need something to do with my hands anyway, I'm still a bit spooked to be honest." he showed Milo the slight tremble in his fingers with an awkward smile. "I'm not made for excitement like this..."

—

Winter pointed to Chaisai. "That. All of that."

—

Oh, shit. Well. He hadn't really been thinking when he'd admitted to that. "Uhhh... Don't worry about it?" His voice was uncertain as he repeated Miyeon's earlier words. Milo nodded at Ray, raising one of his own shaking hands. "Me either, dude." Chai's words made him burst out into another fit of laughter, though. "Again, I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh."

—

Mackenzie was ashamed, embarrassed, but more than anything scared. Would they know that she was the one who killed Brody? If she had a heartbeat, it would be pounding so hard right now. She watched as Milo and Ray went to clean up the lamp, "It's fine...It's uh, don't worry about it." She glanced around the room seeing the mess and chaos that had ensued while she was out of it. Everyone was stressed and scared and laughing? Barbie Sleepover had gone to Barbie Nightmare in a heartbeat. Ironic choice of words of course, "Um...look I know...I know this is probably a shock to you all..." She noticed Nora looking unamused, "some...I just, I'm asking if you guys could not tell anybody...please. My life depends on this being kept quiet. I did some things that I hate myself for, and...it's the whole reason I'm here in Wicked's Rest. You don't have to talk to me...or acknowledge my existence anymore after this, if you never want to see me again, but...all I ask is if you...could just please, please not say anything..."

—

Alex was glad she didn't have her drink on her, though on technicality, she wasn't sure a werewolf counted as an animal. That was definitely more turning into a monster. She chuckled nervously and found her way back to Cass. They were all a little weird, but she wasn't sure she was necessarily ready to broadcast that she was a werewolf specifically.

—

Mack was upset. And Cass still felt a little responsible for it, given the fact that she was the one who'd knocked the movie star off the balcony. If she hadn't done that, no one would know anything at all about what Mack was. So Cass looked at her friends, and nodded. "Okay," she said decisively. "Everyone has to promise. Right here, right now. Look at me, and promise not to say anything about this to anyone not at this party."

—

Nora may have still been drunk, but she trusted Cass. So when Cass gave an instruction, Nora was the first to look at her and make the promise. Nora knew Cass was only asking this for a good reason.

—

Ray looked up with a handful of lamp shards "I promise."

—

Chaisai looked at Mack, confusion crossing his face. His brow furrowed. He didn’t quite understand what was happening here if he were being honest, but he nodded slowly. “Sure. Promise.”

—

Miyeon nodded. She knew that there was no way she was going to put any of this into any sort of journalistic anything. And not even just because they could all blackmail her with the turning into a fox thing. No, this was the sort of secret that you just kept. Supernatural stuff. Her parents may have kept most of it from her but they did tell her that much, that things were safer when the whole world didn't know about the strange things lurking just beneath the surface. And who was she to argue? "I promise."

—

Alex didn't need to be asked twice. She vaguely understood the binding thing, but even so, it didn't matter. Cass was asking her to make a promise and if Cass asked, then the answer was always yes. "I promise," she said without a shred of hesitation.

—

Milo narrowed his eyes, thinking back to the death pit. He didn't want to say anything, not that anyone would believe him if he told them that Mack Ross was a fucking zombie, but whatever magic Cass was using... Mack was clearly anxious and feeling miserable, though. He nodded. "Promise."

—

Winter was staring at Mack while she spoke. She wasn't planning on saying anything about this to anyone anyway but how could she when her friend was obviously very upset about all of this and needed some reassurance. She rolled her eyes at the other asking them to promise, still a little shaky about it all, but she nodded anyway. "Promise."

—

Tears barely came out of Mackenzie's pale eyes as she watched everyone around the room promise not to say anything, "I'm so sorry. I just...wanted this to be soft and fun, and I fucked it up." Stammering and looking down for a minute, she took a beat and made a decision, "You can all go. Just...yeah." Mackenzie was defeated. Looking back down, she left the room leaving everyone to decide if they wanted to leave or stay. She didn't care anymore.

—

"And I promise, too," Cass added, nodding to each of them in turn. She crafted the bind carefully, tying the metaphorical knot around each person who'd said the words. They'd be safe now, just like they had been when she'd used the same method to ensure no one would ever find out about Debbie. Mack would be safe. Turning back to her, Cass ached with the look on her face. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm really sorry." But Mack left the room, and everything felt a little emptier than it had been before. "I, um... I'll go get Aria and Wynne. Tell them the party's done. I think we should all go home."

[magmahearts]

Who are your closest friends in town?

Ariadne's my ride or die, obviously. Alex, but she's less 'friend' more 'girlfriend.' Nora, Thea, Wynne, Milo, Van. Metzli and Leila, too, but they're also kind of in [...] another category. I'm lucky. I've got lots of friends for now.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Welcome to our weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

Something not quite right is in the air as the impact of the mining accident proves to be more far-reaching than anyone anticipated. Check out our ongoing plot of the week for ways to interact!

A local coven only meant to cause a bit of annoyance when they crafted a spell to give their enemies hay fever. But the magic got out and spread across town, and now swaths of people are coming down with the desire to munch on hay, like a horse. That wasn't exactly what they had in mind.

Who said disco went out of style? Disco Stu, owner of one of the local clubs, is advertising a disco fever night, and everyone is invited (for a $20 cover fee)! But there's something off about that disco ball... hypnotic, even.

Some local bakeries are reporting that their baguettes have vanished. In a few cases, holes have been found in the walls of the stores, as if the baguettes chewed themselves out and escaped.

Starters:

Watch out for those White Crab seltzers at the Driftwood. Fang claims they made her walk sideways... like a crab.

There was a poll and the results are in: Teddy is a better option for hand-holding. Sorry Emilio.

Wanna eat free salsa while you learn to salsa dance? Check out the event at Pura Vida!

Bridie is feeling generous after finally being freed from those voices in her head. It's just promo, right?

Milo is in the market for a roommate that's cat-friendly. Any takers?

Gael has some interesting ideas on what's considered intimidating. Cheeselegs, that's all.

Mateo wants some new ink--any parlor recommendations for the newbie?

Regan needs some conversational intercourse. Yeah.... yeah. Help her out?

Elias needs some coping methods for dealing with the fact that his favorite show was cancelled.

Metzli has discovered the magic of weighted blankets. Hell ya.

Wesley wants to know if you've seen a particular horse. You might need to get creative with lures.

Van wants some hay. Now.

[deathisanartmetzli]

Sticks & Stones || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Last Night, 11:21pm

PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Milo confronts Metzli about a pamphlet he found tucked away in a junk drawer.

CONTAINS: Drug tw, Addiction tw, Abuse tw, Physical Abuse tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Alcohol tw

Milo felt guilty as he wandered into the kitchen, he didn’t want to admit it but he was relieved to find it empty. Focusing on his surroundings, he realised Metzli was still in their bedroom. Something he would never usually be grateful for. But things had been difficult. Far more difficult than they should be considering the nature of their new situation. At first he had been happy, optimistic that Metzli finding a temporary soul would lead to something genuinely good. But his hesitant celebration had quickly faded, to be replaced by annoyance, and overwhelming frustration. It seemed their new soul didn’t just allow them to feel, it allowed them to worry in ways they had never really thought to. He used to be able to drink, and use, and be met with only a half-hearted, and well practised concern. As though Metzli knew they were obligated to say something, or at the very least suggest he slow down. But they didn’t actually care whether or not he listened to their advice. On more than one occasion they had actively encouraged him, supplying him with alcohol, or money to support his habits, so he knew not to take them too seriously. Now, though, for the first time over the course of their friendship, he was forced to hide his stash in his sock drawer. Chasing highs in his bedroom, away from their comments, and questions. Part of him wondered whether they would have dropped the subject if he hadn’t been so ready to argue with them. But even if that were true, they had no right to tell him what to do with his body. No right to act as though their patronising attempts at an open discussion were anything more than a superiority complex. Like his parents, they were trying to feel better than the ‘lowlife junkie’ they shared their apartment with. 

Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he placed the joint he had rolled between his teeth, holding it there as he began his search for a lighter. Pulling open the kitchen drawer filled with clutter, and seemingly unimportant objects, he sifted through takeout menus that were never going to be used, pairs of glasses, tape, discarded pens, and even a sewing kit that was definitely older than he was... but his hunt proved to be futile. Why did lighters seem to magically disappear? It wasn’t fair that one of his most frequent pastimes relied on a flame to be enjoyed. He moved to close the drawer, ready to resort to the hot metal bars inside the toaster, when a sheet of paper caught his eye, and he froze. Hidden beneath a crumpled menu for Mexican cuisine, the clinical style reminded him of the pamphlets his parents used to force upon him. Tugging it from below the pile, his heart sank inside his chest. For a brief moment, as he stared down at the information on the leaflet, the glossy sheen of it seemed to mock him. It was so professional, so modern that there was no doubt in his mind it was a new addition. Flipping it over, searching for a patent date beside the title of the programme, his suspicions were eventually confirmed. OVERCOMING ADDICTION. The words were stark, he couldn’t bring himself to look away from them even as his disappointment, and embarrassment were replaced by rage. Carefully removing the joint from his mouth, he resisted the urge to clench his fists, not wanting to destroy it, or damage the evidence of Metzli judging him. “Metzli!” He called, anger dripping from his tone. He made no effort to mask it. “Metzli, get in here!” 

Metzli’s body jolted from the sudden exclamation from Milo. The past twenty-four hours had been riddled with overwhelming emotions and body aches, resulting in them staying in their room. Especially after reliving their trauma with Roy and witnessing the man cry. Even going to work proved too difficult. Being around people only seemed to make the pressure around their body worse. “Y-yeah?” They responded, walking slowly to the living room. Immediately, they were hit with a powerful wave of heat that only seemed to swell and spread all over them. Their body was stiff, even noticeable through their baggy hoodie. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” The room felt like betrayal, it felt like acrid denial that was being ignored. Even for someone that had gone decades without feeling anything deeper than simple happiness and anger, they knew how to place those emotions. 

Eyes fell on the pamphlet and their eyes widened with worry. They had only looked at the idea momentarily, just wanting to get Milo some help. It was a fleeting idea and Metzli regretted with all their being that they had left any evidence of it. “Milo, I—I was just getting worried. But nothing needs to happen. I was just trying to see how I could help.” In every word, there was a shake. Sorrow and concern tethered itself to every syllable, unable to sew a mask well enough to cover it. 

Milo glared at Metzli as they appeared in the living room, his body tense as he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him. Did something happen? He wanted to scoff at their ignorance. Wanted to cry, and scream, and force them to watch him tear their leaflet into tiny shreds. How could they possibly not understand? How could they not hear his hurt and realise immediately that having such a thing in the house was the ultimate act of betrayal? He had trusted them with himself, his whole, unfiltered self. And they thought there was something wrong with him. They thought there was something about the way he was that they needed to actively fix. Watching with a burning satisfaction as their gaze landed on the leaflet in his hands, their worry wasn’t enough to sate him. He wanted them to see how unfair they were being. He wanted them to know they were no better than his parents. “So it is for me?” He demanded, already knowing the answer to his question. “So you saw this and you thought of me?” 

He finally gave into the urge, crumpling the paper in his hand until it was a ball of illegible text. The sharp corners cut into his palm but he pointedly ignored the sensation. “You think I have a problem, you think I need help.” He spat, tears stinging behind his eyes. He shouldn’t get upset, the argument was beneath him. But Metzli didn’t respect his ability to know himself, didn’t respect his bodily autonomy, or his ability to make adult life choices. Just when he thought he had found somebody who accepted him for who he was, his world had been rearranged. Metzli was back from the dead, but this was a new Metzli. This Metzli wasn’t somebody he was familiar with. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite!” He raised his voice again, unable to keep it level. “How many times have you gotten drunk, or high to avoid your fucking issues? And not once have I ever told you to stop! But I do it for fun- I do it because it’s just- it’s who I am, Metzli, and you’re really going to tell me to fucking change?” 

Milo’s yelling grew muffled and they began to pant, succumbing to the overload of pressure in their whole body. He was angry, he was absolutely filled with the feeling of betrayal at the very idea that Metzli was so worried and thought of getting him help. He was so misguided by his anger that he truly thought that they were out to get him. “Yeah, it was, but I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, Milo. I just got worried. You just seem to use a lot.” They shrugged haphazardly and pulled at their hair, feeling so incredibly trapped by the situation. Whether it was actually from them or Milo, they didn’t know. “And I don’t fucking get high, Milo. I haven’t for a while. That isn’t fair. That isn’t fucking fair!” Anger bubbled up, becoming theirs and bursting out in the form of words.

“You’re an amazing person, Milo, you are. But just because you’re an amazing person, that doesn’t mean you can’t have faults. That doesn’t mean you’re immune to having facets of you that need to be worked on!” Metzli’s knees buckled, the gravity in the room feeling like it had doubled from the amount of emotional energy coursing through both vampires. Their throat constricted uncomfortably and they stepped forward, trying to reach Milo. Stopping midstep, they sighed and trembled in place. “I just wanted to help. What’s so wrong about me being worried? What’s so wrong with me loving you and wanting to make sure you’re okay. Getting inebriated for fun is fine, trust me, I know. But if you’re doing it every day, at some point, you have to realize that you’re using it less for fun, and more for an escape.” A choked sob escaped as burning tears trailed down their face. They couldn’t understand why he was so adamant on making them the bad guy when their worry came from a place of genuine care and love.

Milo ignored Metzli’s reaction, too distracted by his own thoughts and feelings to worry about their own. “Clearly it wasn’t a good idea.” He bit out, setting his jaw as his friend pointed out the frequency of his habits. “And?” He asked, refusing to wait for an answer. “So fucking what? There are worse things I could be doing. You should fucking know.” Whether or not Metzli understood the vague reference to their past, he hoped it would offer them a little perspective. His words were undeniably true, and they both knew it. “Whatever.” He hurried to brush off their accusation of him not being fair. They were the one not being fair. How could they be so blind to that? “You know what isn’t fair? Deciding your friend needs help and going behind their back to get shit like this.” He shook the hand holding the leaflet, suddenly moving to unfold it. Throwing his unlit joint down onto the kitchen counter, he hastily began to tear the leaflet into shreds. Dropping the confetti at his feet, he thought about how good it would feel to kick it, and step on it. Prove to Metzli, and to himself, that the paper, and the information it held, was utterly useless. When the last scrap hit the ground, he turned his attention back to Metzli, struggling to comprehend how they could be such a different person to the one he used to know. They had empathy now, the ability to feel remorse, and guilt. Surely that should make them less likely to do this. Where was their guilt for treating him like he was broken? 

“You’re standing there telling me- telling me I’m not good enough. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? I thought you were different, Metzli. I thought you got it-” He broke off, unable to put his thoughts into words. They were coming too quickly, they were too warped, and tangled by his anger. “What’s wrong is that I don’t need help, and if you listened to me you would fucking know that! But you didn’t, you won’t! Or you do listen to me but you choose not to believe me, and somehow that’s just so much fucking worse. I trusted you. I thought I could be myself and you-” With the leaflet destroyed he had nothing to keep his hands busy, no way to take out his frustration. There were glasses, and dinner plates… he could break those. But nothing was going to bring him as much gratification as destroying a physical, tangible reason for his pain. “Escape?” He echoed, for a second his voice was deadpan. Void of all emotion as he processed what he was being told. “I was doing this shit before I had anything to escape! Because I like doing it. Why is that so difficult to accept? It’s not a- a fault- It’s a part of who I am, why do you want to change me?” 

“Milo, you can have things that are part of you that are completely unhealthy! What happens when you do something dangerous while you’re hopped up on whatever? You’re lucky you’re already dead ‘cause I’m pretty sure you would’ve overdosed by now!” Metzli was fueled by both of their anger and stepped forward with a little more confidence. Even if Milo couldn’t see it, they knew what they were doing was from a good place in their heart. “You are good enough, Milo. But you’re blind if you think it’s not a problem to do this to your body every day. The fact that you worry multiple people should say something to you, Milo.” They paced, needing to get rid of the anxious energy they felt from the amount of tension in the room. It was nauseating and made their head pound, the pain growing with each second. 

Tripping on their own feet, they caught themselves on the armrest of the loveseat and took a second to find their balance. “I just want to help.” Metzli croaked, unable to completely withstand being the center of Milo’s ire. “I can’t make the amount of worry I feel right now go away. I can’t stop it!” And it was true. Having their soul and the emotional intelligence of an acorn after years of dormancy made it difficult to navigate everything that rushed through them. There was no correct way to say anything, but all they could seem to do is say it incorrectly. Like this was a driving test they were set up to fail, and it was all their fault for trying to let their soul lead them to the right winding path. This one only seemed to send them careening down a steep hill, straight into a road named You Messed Up Boulevard.

“Yeah, well, it’s been six years, and I think I’m doing okay.” Milo bit out. He knew there was an argument to be made that his reckless decisions had led to his murder. That dying as the result of his desire to get high was the ‘something dangerous’ Metzli was talking about. But he refused to move, if he gave in then they would see it as a victory. He wasn’t going to let them win. His breath catching in his throat, the word lucky cut through him like a knife, and he found himself pulled out of his thoughts, shocked into a sudden, deafening silence. Metzli thought he was lucky because he was targeted, because he was used, and discarded, and abandoned, and forced to learn how to survive on his own. He hated that. Hated the way they could twist the truth to suit their ridiculous agenda. He was also vaguely insulted by the insinuation that he couldn’t take care of himself. “Fuck you.” He spat, his voice heavily laced with venom. “You think I’m lucky because I was attacked? You think I should be out there thanking whoever did this to me? Are you lucky because Eloy chose you?” It was harsh, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Maybe part of him even wanted to hurt Metzli. To make them feel how they had managed to make him feel. “Should I call you lucky because some asshole decided to slaughter your village, and pick you out of the fucking crowd?” 

Setting his jaw, doing what he could to tune out the speech he must have heard a thousand times over, he couldn’t stop it from echoing in his ears. He was damaging his body. He was hurting those around him. He was running. He was hiding. He had an addiction. But an addiction wasn’t his fault. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, such a tired attempt to get through to him didn’t deserve his attention. That didn’t stop him from opening his mouth to respond. “Just because multiple people believe something, that doesn’t make it the truth.” He snapped. Snatching his joint, and forcing it into the pocket of his hoodie, he pushed roughly past Metzli, making his way into the hall. Just to spite them, just to prove they didn’t understand, he was determined to find a club, and flood his pitiful bloodstream with as many substances as he possibly could. “Then ignore it.” He countered. They were trying to make him feel bad for them, but his anger was far too strong for the tactic to be effective. “You can help me by leaving me alone.” He added, pulling his Converse on without bothering to tie the laces. He could worry about that when he was far from his apartment. Far from Metzil, and the torn up leaflet that was littering the kitchen floor. Turning to look back at his friend as he began to shrug on his jacket, he felt a rush of loathing so strong that it genuinely caught him off guard. The bitter disappointment was threatening to break him down. He didn’t need them to see him cry, he needed them to feel his pain. “I preferred you without a soul.” 

“What?” Metzli’s voice shook with the deepest despair they’d ever felt. The welling tears blurred their vision as Milo began to take his leave. “You—No, you don’t mean that!” Their voice a broken shriek, a sound unlike anything they’d ever made. The argument quickly went from a simple fight, crashing straight into a deadly war. Milo’s lips were his weapon and he kept it loaded with the sick and vile ammo that were his words. A weapon that took no mercy, only taking lives. “You don’t…” Metzli couldn’t find the words. Their weapon was never loaded, unable to take down their enemy because it was one of their closest friends. Instead, they offered peace and placed a flower delicately into that weapon, and it fired anyway. Their own friend shattered everything they were, and in that moment, they wished they didn’t have a soul too. Watching Milo leave was like watching a piece of the sun burn out causing a letal burst of wreckage before it left. If it was for forever, they didn’t know. But they stared anyway, not caring if it made them go blind. 

“Please…” A short and simple croak of a plea. But it was no use. Metzli fell to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably and only barely hearing the door slam shut. The final weapon fired and all they could do was bleed on the floor.

[morbidlycuriousabigail]

Trust Me || Milo, Metzli, and Abigail

Timing: Before “Drowning Lessons” Parties: @wickedmilo @deathisanartmetzli @morbidlycuriousabigail​ Summary: Abigail tries to stop Milo from making a choice he might regret. The two then head to Metzli’s apartment to rest for the night. Content Warning: Addiction, Alcohol, Drug Abuse

Milo threw an arm out to catch himself against a nearby wall, the rough brick cutting into the palm of his hand as he struggled to right himself. Even though he knew which way was up, even though he could feel the ground, solid, and stable beneath his feet, his body was finding it increasingly difficult to balance, no doubt due to the dangerous levels of alcohol filtering into his system. The night had started like any other, but with Sylvain’s threat still echoing in his mind, and thoughts of his Sire plaguing him like they used to, he needed to face what he had been working so hard to avoid. He couldn’t do it sober, he couldn’t do it if he allowed himself to build expectation, or suspense. So feeling spontaneous, and arguably a little reckless, he spent the evening choking down a bottle of vodka, gathering courage that would inevitably allow him to confront the man responsible for his death. 

He was all too aware of Eilidh’s address, the plot of land where she liked to keep her trailer parked. That was where he needed to go, if only he could get his body to cooperate. One conversation. If he could make it through one conversation, if he could say what he needed to say, then it would be over. In his state of intoxication he genuinely believed it was simple. In fact, the simplicity of it all was quickly becoming his motivation to continue, to push away from the wall and stagger towards the centre of town. The dark cloud that had been looming over him would dissipate, and by the morning he would be free. If only he could successfully make it to his destination. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t stand upright, it didn’t matter that he kept stumbling, tripping over the shoelaces he had absentmindedly forgotten to tie. What mattered was getting to his friend’s trailer, looking the man who had killed him in the eye, and telling him to go fuck himself. So preoccupied by thoughts of his pending satisfaction, he didn’t register the fact that somebody was walking towards him until they reached out to catch him. Until their arms were open, and he fell heavily into them. Leaning against their weight, he hadn’t even realised he was beginning to fall, and it took him a moment to collect himself. “Sorry- ‘m sorry…” He murmured, trying to pull away, unable to feel even a hint of embarrassment. “Y’can let me go… ‘m okay.” 

Abigail hadn’t expected that she’d run into Milo while walking around town, but she was certainly glad she did. He looked rough, and that was saying something. She reached out as she saw him starting to lose his balance, managing hold him up after he fell against her. “Hey, take it easy for a second kid.” She supported his weight until he tried to stand up and pull away, allowing him to do so, but clearly carrying her posture in a way that showed she was ready for him to wobble over again. “Is everything alright? You look far too intoxicated to be out on the town.” Abigail was clearly concerned, as was portrayed by the hint of worry in her single-toned voice. She couldn’t even conceptualize the amount of alcohol Milo would’ve had to drink to be at this level, but she knew something had to have happened to cause it, or at least some prevailing thought must’ve troubled him. Either way, Milo was in no state to be heading somewhere.

Reaching into her bag, Abigail rifled through it, clinking metal and rustling papers coming from within until she pulled out a plastic water bottle, offering it to Milo. “Drink and sit down for a second, then you can tell me what you’re doing out here in this state.” Her voice carried a stern, protective tone with the concern. She hadn’t known him for very long, so she couldn’t say whether or not this was normal, but she certainly hoped for his sake that it wasn’t. It seemed that Milo wasn’t trying to escape something, it more seemed that he was heading towards something, and that was arguably more dangerous. “And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine’ bullshit that everybody loves to hear, give me a real answer.” Abigail took a moment to look around for a second, spotting a bench and starting to lead Milo over to it for him to sit down. 

Milo only recognised Abigail when his face was pressed against her shoulder. Her scent washed over him as he straightened back up again, and he remembered the unusual specifics of her blood. She definitely didn’t smell human, but there was something so unique about her physiology. He could probably pick her out in a room filled with a hundred people, which was impressive considering he had done nothing to hone that particular skill. Even through his haze he could hear the concern in her voice, but as she distracted him from thoughts of her moose form, he did what he could to brush it off. He had more important things to focus on, and Abigail wasn’t going to stand in his way. What if she stopped him, and his resolve just never returned? What if she told him no, and he found it impossible to reclaim the courage it had taken to even leave the apartment? He had done so knowing he was planning on facing down his murderer. He couldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t do that again. He had been through too much already. “Kid?” He echoed, unable to help himself. His ironically childish dislike of being treated like somebody young, and incompant, caused him to glare at Abigail, though there was no real disdain behind the expression. “I’m not a kid…” He insisted, absentmindedly straightening his glasses. “...’m ‘n adult. I can make my own choices.” A laugh escaping him when he realised Abigail had reasonably assumed he was walking to frequent a club, or a bar, he shook his head, silently attempting to correct her. “That’s not why ‘m out.” He admitted, finding himself entirely incapable of lying. Rolling his eyes as she pulled a bottle of water from her purse, he pointedly pushed it away. He didn’t need water. He didn’t need her help.

“I don’t want your water… I have things…” He trailed off. He had things to do, it was true. But finishing his sentences didn’t feel important. He was wasting time. Abigail was wasting time. He took a step, trying to walk away from her with confidence, and purpose, but even he knew he was putting on a poor display. “But I am fine.” He called over his shoulder, the distance between them both steadily increasing, though apparently not quickly enough. Within seconds he felt Abigail take a firm grip of his wrist, and she began tugging him towards a nearby bench. He struggled to free himself, but he couldn’t find the energy to utilise his strength, and eventually decided to cooperate. Sitting down did sound incredibly appealing. Maybe he could rest for a while. He had hours before the sun was due to rise, after all. “I jus’ need to talk to him… jus’ talk.” He explained, hoping if he told her what he was doing she would realise how important the situation was, and let him go. Maybe she would even accompany him. He couldn’t say he was against the idea. “Jus’ talk, and then it’ll be over…” He added, as though it offered any extra clarity on his mission. “Look- jus’ let me do this, and then- and then you c’n call Metzli… they’re used to comin’ and findin’ me… draggin’ home, y’know? Call them after and I’ll go with them…”

“You’re right, you’re a grown adult, but you’re also a kid to me, at least I think. I don’t know how old you really are.” Abigail crossed one leg over the other while looking over at Milo, listening intently, though it didn’t seem like she’d get too much of an answer yet. At least Milo was telling the truth, not that he had much of a choice right now. Abigail only had more questions, but it didn’t matter, if Milo was planning on doing something important, it’d be best to do it sober. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t be as drunk as you are. Now, drink some water and talk to me.” She offered Milo the water once again, her expression once again growing stern as she held it in front of him. Abigail had no idea what he was going through, but she remembered seeing somebody on TV get drunk after a breakup because they got so upset, maybe this was that? “Who are you going to talk to and why? Is it a relationship thing, or is it a vampire thing?” Luckily the surrounding area was pretty empty, both of people and animals, so Abigail wasn’t too worried about being less veiled about the supernatural side of the conversation.

“Whatever you’re going to do, if it’s bad enough to make you want to be this intoxicated to do it, you should do it sober.” Abigail was painfully awful at offering words of advice or even sympathy, but she’d make an attempt for Milo. “My dad was a piece of shit back in the day, hell, I killed him for it… but to this day, I still wish I’d waited and composed myself for one last confrontation.” She reached out awkwardly, pausing in mid air for a moment, before patting Milo’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. “So, whatever it is, don’t do something you regret by doing it like this.” Abigail turned away for a moment, hearing the sound of distant thunder approaching, but it’d be a while before it arrived. That explained why nobody was out, not even the occasional jogger. In Abigail’s opinion it was better than the weather being plain and boring. Returning her gaze to Milo, Abigail was calm, composed, and tried to be as helpful as she could. “Just something to think about, that’s all.”

Milo laughed, unable to remember whether he had ever given Abigail the details of his death. “My body is 22…” He admitted, before reaching up to tap at his head, accidentally knocking his glasses askew again. “M’brain is 23…” Dropping unceremoniously down onto the bench, he let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling visibly with the motion. “Isn’t it weird how there’s like… air inside of you?” He asked her, a hand moving to rest directly over his heart. Even now he felt as though there should be a heartbeat, some evidence of life for him to feel beneath his fingertips. But the muscle remained still, and cold. It was never going to beat again. “M’ybe I’m fine because of how drunk I am.” He pointed out, proud of himself for being able to counter her argument. “I don’t want your water.” He added, crossing his arms so that she couldn’t force him to take the bottle. “What?” He turned to look at her as she asked him whether plans somehow involved his relationship. “No. Gross.” He slouched further down into his seat, resting his head against the back of the bench. Abigail didn’t realise it, but her question was complicated. He took a moment to think about what ‘relationship’ meant. About the implications, and connotations that came alongside the word. He technically did have a relationship with his Sire. It wasn’t physical, or even emotional, but it had been forged by a ridiculous, supernatural connection. It was a connection he didn’t want. A connection he was determined to untangle himself from. A newfound rush of urgency hitting him, he scrambled to stand up again, nearly falling over in the process. 

Catching himself on the ground, he pushed himself back up onto the bench, attempting to hide how difficult he found the task. Gravel cut into his palms, and when he begrudgingly returned to his precious position, he was forced to wipe away the mud, and sweat that was coating them. A few droplets on black blood soaked into the material of his jeans. “It’s a vampire thing.” He confirmed, unfazed by his now broken skin. “And I don’t have t’do anything sober. Not if I don’t want to… pfft, you sound like Metzli.” Falling silent as he registered Abigail’s words, he was shocked to hear she had killed her father. Even more shocked to hear her speak about his murder with such a casual tone of voice. But he was too intoxicated to fully process the importance of the admission, and had a vague suspicion he wouldn’t remember it come morning. “Look-” He started, trying to sound as reasonable. “That was your thing… I don’t need t’be composed to tell the guy who did this t’me that he’s an asshole.” Frowning to himself as she patted his shoulder, he refused to accept the spark of affection the gesture managed to ignite within him. She wasn’t going to win him over. She wasn’t going to talk him out of this by being nice. How easy did she think he was to manipulate? “You don’t know what I regret.” He insisted. “...’m not you, ‘nd I’ve had a year t’think… a year is long… and now Macleod has him, you don’t understand. This is- this is my chance.” Trying once again to push away from the bench, this time he successfully stumbled to his feet. As he began to walk away from her again, his movements clumsy, and slow, he continued to respond as though she was still sitting beside him. “...I just gotta do this one thing- that’s all. Just one thing- come with me if you care so much.” 

“You’re younger than I am, so kid will do.” Abigail could sympathize with Milo, it wasn’t an easy situation and it probably hurt greatly to have to confront something so serious, but she didn’t want him to make a decision that he might regret while impaired. “Very weird, Milo. Very weird indeed.” She took a moment to think, staring off while arranging her words as best she could, preparing them and rehearsing them mentally. It made it easier for her to not doubt herself after speaking. “That may be true. Maybe you’re fine because you’re drunk, you probably are, but do you think you’ll be in the right mindset to say what you need to say and do what needs to be done? Will you properly remember the moment and receive the closure you’re seeking? These are questions you should consider, even if you don’t want to sober up right now.” She chuckled at the ‘gross’ comment, especially after Milo insisted that he wasn’t a child. As Milo slipped and fell onto the ground, Abigail moved to catch him too late, allowing him to pick himself up. She figured he probably wouldn’t enjoy the help, but she’d still offer it. 

Abigail assisted Milo in sitting back down, searching through her bag to pull out a small first aid kit. She quickly opened it and offered him some adhesive bandages for the blood. “I’ve got black blood too, remember? It’s not just a vampire thing now that you know me.” She didn’t seem too worried about the injury, she was moreso worried about making sure Milo had fully thought this through. “True, you don’t have to do it sober, but I’m advising you against doing it drunk. Don’t deprive yourself of the clarity needed for what is to come. Metzli’s smart, if I sound like them I’m probably right here, kid.” With her free hand, she slid the water bottle back into her bag. “It was my thing, but I regret it every day, and I don’t want you to have to regret this.” Abigail’s attention wavered for a moment as she slipped back into the memory. It wasn’t pleasant, and it was much easier to focus on Milo than it was for her to actually confront those thoughts right now. Maybe it made her a hypocrite, but she didn’t care right now. Abigail snapped back into the moment once Milo had stood and started walking away, quickly moving to follow next to him. “You’re right, but you won’t just have to live with the regret for a few decades, whatever you do right now will live in your memory for centuries. Why don’t you return home to Metzli, sober up, and then confront this person. I’ll walk you home.” Abigail considered reaching out, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Physical touch was not something she wanted to do in any way right now, so she hoped her caring voice would be enough to convince Milo. “Trust me, you will wish that you did this in your right mind forever.”

Milo pouted, too lazy to argue his case for a second time. Instead he fell silent, nodding thoughtfully when Abigail agreed it was strange to think about the air being held in their lungs. Utilising the brief break in conversation, he clumsily pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one after struggling to catch the flame. “Now there’s smoke in my lungs…” He murmured, watching the cherry burn red. “Also weird...” Taking a long, uninterrupted toke, he waited until his chest began to burn before finally exhaling, his expression darkening as he registered what his friend was trying to say. He felt a sudden rush of anger, but even in his current state he was able to understand he was angry because she was right. He didn’t see any other way to have a conversation with his Sire, but he imagined facing the man in his head, tried to conjure a sentence that adequately explained not only how he felt, but what he was hoping to gain from the experience, and he was met with static. A painful, undeniable lack of coherency. “Jus’ stop… stop talking.” He insisted, waving off her question, the cigarette in his hand leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. “S’not about not wanting to be sober…” He admitted, still staring down at his hands. “...s’not knowing how else I’m gonna do this. I have to be- you don’t understand…” Swallowing the emotion that welled up within him, he focused on making his next statement sound casual, and unimportant. “I don’t like my brain when it’s sober… I jus’ don’t, it’s… whatever.” Leaning into her as she helped him back onto the bench, he couldn’t bring himself to insist he didn’t need her help. And as she pulled a first aid kit from her purse, he held his tongue instead of reminding her the grazes would be healed over within the hour. He enjoyed being taken care of, he enjoyed knowing somebody was there for him. It allowed him to relax, to relinquish what little control he had over his body, and his actions. 

“I know you have.” He mumbled, taking the bandaids with an absentminded curiosity. Fumbling with them in an attempt to expose the adhesive, he only managed to get one stuck to his sleeve. “Evrything and everyone in this town is fuckin’ batshit…” Taking another drag on his cigarette, he tapped ash from the end of it, watching it fall into his lap. He didn’t want to think about what she was saying, didn’t want to unpick the meaning behind her words, and apply them to his life, to what was happening, and what he was planning to do. But he felt heavy with defeat. His energy was rapidly depleting. Part of him recognised her wisdom. Maybe he had always known he wasn’t going to make it to Eilidh’s. Part of him also wanted to jump at the chance of delaying the encounter. If only for another day, another week. Maybe even a month… He wasn’t ready, but he was never going to be ready. Sniffling, he only realised tears were forming in his eyes when he was forced to cuff at his nose. Abigail was asking him to confront things he would never confront if he had any say in the matter. But he was incapable of truly escaping her. Even as he stood to continue making his way down the street, he was dragging his feet. Making a show of leaving without actually committing to the act. “What if I can’t do it sober?” He begged her for an answer as she fell into step beside him. For an indication that he was strong enough, that closure was waiting for him on the other side of this conversation. “...’m not a strong person, Abigail- ‘m not. People know ‘m not… s’why they always work so hard to protect me.” Accidentally dropping his cigarette while he gestured, he knew if he bent to retrieve it the world would tilt on its axis, so he left it where it was, burning steadily against the dirty asphalt. “I can’t do it…” Looking back up at his friend, he caught her gaze, letting his despair shine through him. Letting her see how hopeless, and broken he truly felt. “I need to do it, but I can’t… what ‘m I supposed to do?” 

Watching as Milo began to smoke a cigarette, Abigail simply sat and watched, giving him the time he needed, taking the moment of silence to think. She knew only a small part of the situation, but she knew it was clearly a lot on Milo, so she did her best to assist and lessen the stress on Milo. She opened her mouth to speak, but when she was told to stop, she shrugged and did just that, at least until she couldn’t help herself. “Milo, I get that you feel like you have to be on them to be the version of yourself that you can tolerate, but have you considered that they affect how you emotionally and mentally process things? When was the last time you were fully sober? How do you know who that version of you is without having recently experienced it?” Abigail pulled her phone out and sent a quick message to Metzli, letting them know she would probably be at their place soon with Milo in tow. “I don’t believe you shouldn’t deprive yourself of the moment by being in this state during it, and deep down I think you know that I’m right. You can do whatever you want right after, but when you say whatever you plan on saying to that asshole, you should be fully cognizant of the situation and able to remember that feeling.” Watching as Milo fumbled around with the bandage and got it stuck to his sleeve, it only cemented Abigail’s conviction in this. “At the very least, talk through it with Metzli. They know a lot more than I do about this sort of thing.” She felt like she was doing the right thing for once in stopping Milo. Abigail genuinely cared for the kid, and would feel greatly responsible if she didn’t try her best to keep him from doing something he’d regret. “Yes, I agree. We’re all batshit here, and we’ve all got a shit ton of problems. That’s why it helps to have a group you can trust.”

Abigail slowly stood after watching Milo start walking, easily catching up with his slow speed. It was clear some part of him wanted to be stopped. She placed a firm hand on his shoulder, patting lightly once he’d stopped moving. “You can, Milo, and you’re stronger than you think. Not to mention, you’ve got people who have your back when you falter.” Watching the cigarette fall to the ground, she lifted her boot and used it to snuff out the burning end on the ground, firmly grinding it into the ground. “People don’t work to keep you safe because you’re weak, they do it because you’re strong, and because they know you’d do the same for them. It’s that heart you’ve got, kid.” Abigail registered the expression on Milo’s face. She knew that feeling better than she knew all others, it was her least favorite. Placing her other hand on Milo’s shoulder as well. She usually hated physical contact, but it felt important to let Milo know that he was safe and okay right now. “You can, I know you can, and you do too, today’s simply not the day. It will be okay.” Abigail’s tone carried sincerity and honesty while she met Milo’s broken gaze, gently nodding in understanding at him.

“I didn’t say anything ‘bout my pills.” Milo muttered, wondering how obvious his drug abuse was to somebody who knew to look out for it. “I don’t feel like I have to…” He added, frustrated by the implication. “S’not like that… everyone thinks I have this problem, but I don’t.” He frowned to himself, doing his best to show how little he appreciated people assuming he ‘needed’ his substances. They were recreational. He wanted them. That was very different to being out of control. “...’nd I process things just fine, so you c’n stop with the- with the concern.” He couldn’t convince his parents, or Metzli, but maybe he could convince Abigail. Show her there was nothing bad about indulging in what made you feel good. Faltering at her question, it was something he had never been asked before. Something he had never even really considered. Taking a moment, he counted on his fingers, thinking back to the very first Oxy. The very moment his world had started to expand. “Like… on nothing?” He echoed. “Nine years… or somethin’ like that.” It was a shocking number, even he was surprised by the revelation. But he did what he could to mask his reaction, playing such a large amount of time off as something that didn’t warrant any kind of concern. So what if he knew who he was? So what if he knew what he liked, and wasn’t afraid to admit it? “I’m me.” He insisted. “...’ve always been me… I was no more me back then than now… jus’ Milo Summers, y’know? I’m jus’ Milo.” At the mention of his roommate, he stopped walking, thinking about how good it would feel to be with Metzli after psyching himself up to see his Sire. He was on edge, antsy. With them he felt safe, and he undeniably yearned for that comfort. “I don’t have anything t’ say to them…” He muttered, though it was clear his resolve was beginning to waver. 

Feeling something inside him crack when Abigail placed her hand on his shoulder, he momentarily let his eyes fall shut. Though the lack of vision made it far more difficult to balance, the darkness was welcome. It allowed him to concentrate on her presence. Tears broke free, leaving tear tracks as they ran down his cheeks, but he barely noticed them. He did nothing to swipe them away. He didn’t believe his friend, he couldn’t believe her, because he wasn’t strong. But she was right about having people to support him. Metzli was always waiting for him when he needed them, so maybe he didn’t need to see his Sire tonight. Maybe he needed to go home. Maybe he needed to feel safe, and secure, and enjoy the fact that he had found such a loving supernatural family. Opening his eyes at the sound of Abigail’s boot grinding the cigarette, he quietly mourned the loss of his nicotine. “I don’t know that…” He argued, though there was no fight left in his voice. “I don’t… ‘nd you don’t either.” He tried to ignore how tired he felt, how emotionally spent the brief adventure had left him. Thoughts of his apartment were overwhelming him now, all he wanted was to curl up on the couch with a blanket. “But maybe… maybe it’s not the day. I miss Metzli…” The statement escaped him before he could filter himself. It was true, after all. And if he was honest then Abigail might help him home. It was beginning to seem like a monumentos journey, even though he couldn’t be sure just how far he was from the apartment building. “Will you take me back to them?” He asked, his voice small, and vulnerable as he gave in to what he truly desired. “Please?” 

“I do know that, but I won’t argue with you about it.” Abigail offered a small nod, before gesturing towards the path back towards his apartment. “I agree, let’s get you home, alright? I’ll be right next to you.” She let go and turned to start walking slowly, the sky starting to lightly rain, not enough to be inconvenient but enough that it didn’t help the overall feeling of the moment. She listened as Milo followed and walked up beside her, their footsteps syncing up in a rhythm quickly. For a while, Abigail thought it best to stay silent, leaving only the sound of their walking and the drizzling rain around them to fill the silence, but eventually, she spoke up. “Father figures usually suck in my experience, if it’s any consolation. I think wanting to confront him is a good idea.” She walked with her head down and her hands in her pockets, mostly because the water tapping her over and over felt very overwhelming, so she avoided it if she could. It was times like these that her long hair was a blessing. Abigail occasionally glanced over at Milo, just to check in on him. Normally she’d feel weak for worrying about other people, but some part of herself justified it by the fact that this was a young adult who was dealing with some difficult stuff. There wasn’t exactly a written tutorial on how to do what he was doing, so she’d help when she could. “I hope you get whatever you’re hoping to get from talking to him, I could-” Abigail thought about it for a moment, deciding after the fact that offering to commit a crime wasn’t exactly the best thing to do in the moment. “-nevermind. Just know that I’ve got your back, and don’t forget that you still owe me a drink.” She lightly elbowed Milo’s arm, hoping to lighten the mood. She was awful at lightening moods.

It wasn’t lost on Milo that Abigail didn’t respond to his admission, but he didn’t make an effort to file away that information. He didn’t care whether she was surprised, or saddened, or worried. None of it mattered because he readily planned on forgetting the more serious aspects of their conversation, and with the help of the alcohol in his system, doing so was going to be all too easy. “You don’t know…” He countered again, too stubborn to hold his tongue. Turning to face the way she was telling him to walk, he began to stumble vaguely in the direction of his home. A silence fell, punctuated by the distant sound of traffic, and an occasional fox rummaging through any trash cans that happened to be nearby. He let it wash over him, allowing Abigail to decide when to break it. Kicking at the gravel beneath his feet, staying upright was requiring the majority of his focus, and it took him a moment too long to process her voice when she finally spoke. “He’s not a father figure.” He muttered. “...asshole killed me.” Setting his jaw, he tried not to react to the validation, but it was refreshing, and welcome, and it made him feel good. Even if he had failed to confront his Sire tonight, he had friends in his corner. Friends who believed he was making a decent decision. Only noticing the rain when he was forced to clean his glasses, he nearly dropped them, catching them clumsily before they could hit the floor. Zeroing in on his task, as the conversation faded for the second time, he worked to ignore the feeling of failure looming over him. The voice in his head telling him he had officially missed his chance. He had been ready, and determined. Now he was walking back to a Milo who was terrified, and indecisive. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though. With Abigail beside him he knew she wouldn’t rest until he was safely at home with his roommate. 

As they began to approach his building, his surroundings becoming more familiar, and easier to navigate, he looked up at the windows to his apartment, his brain telling him it was important to let Metzli know he was home “Metzli!” He shouted, his voice echoing in the night. “It’s Milo!” A couple of lights flickered on in response to his voice and he wondered briefly what time it was. But he didn’t dwell on the question for very long. Letting himself into the lobby, instinctively calling the lift, it wasn’t long before both he and Abigail were approaching his apartment. I could… nevermind. He was curious to know what Abigail had considered. What it was she thought she could do to help him with his situation. But the hall was empty, the lights bright, and warm compared to outside, and suddenly everything felt real again. The past hour or two may as well have been a dream, or some incredibly uneventful hallucination. He thought back on being found by Abigail, his memories of their conversation beginning to slip away from him, and tripped over his shoelace, catching himself on a nearby wall. He was already running through excuses, thinking about what he could say to Metzli, oblivious to the fact that Abigail was in a far better state to offer an explanation, but he wasn’t given the chance to fully prepare himself. Hearing the sound of a door, he looked up from where he was supporting himself, his gaze landing on his roommate who had obviously been waiting for him to appear. “Hey, roomie…” He did what he could to sound casual. As though the wall to his right wasn’t the only thing keeping him standing. “I owe Abigail a drink… m’ybe we could crack open your liquor cabinet?” 

Metzli sighed as they read Abigail’s message, a little surprised and a little worried. Milo returning home inebriated wasn’t unusual, hell, it was a habit they were used to. They wished they weren’t. Knowing they had never really seen Milo sober always made their gut wrench a little. While they wanted to help, they knew there wasn’t much to do but be there for him and use subtlety when possible to eventually guide him towards the realization that being drug and alcohol free, for him, had less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity. It was an excuse. A used up bandaid on a problem that was long infected, but he was blissfully unaware while others watched in fear. Metzli was just relieved to know that he wouldn’t be able to die from his use, not anymore. What a fucked up and shitty thing, they thought, but it was the truth. 

Milo’s scent registered first, alcohol and all, then Abigail’s scent, and then the loud proclamation of arrival. An amused chuckle escaped Metzli as they got to the door and propped it open so they could wait. “Hey Milo. Hey Abigail.” Milo looked like he’d been crying. Brows creased together in concern, and they wanted to fight whatever caused it. With a deep breath, they settled, gesturing for the two of them to walk in. Macleod was rubbing off on them for sure. “If you owe her a drink, you buy her one, idiot. Not give her my alcohol. Sit down. You know the drill.” The mug of blood was already on the coffee table, warm and waiting to be consumed. “Thanks for getting him home, Abs.”

“Hey, if you ever want me to repay the favor on your behalf, let me know. I can make him disappear.” Abigail craned her neck upwards to look at the building, standing by silently while Milo called out to Metzli inside. “I am also here!” She yelled, well, it moreso just raising her voice. Yelling was a bit too much effort. Abigail then followed alongside Milo into the elevator, riding it up to the proper floor. “Lead the way.” She proceed to follow Milo, jolting to try to help Milo when he tripped, but she luckily didn’t need to. Her gaze followed his over to the opening door, spotting Metzli and feeling relief immediately wash over her. She had no idea how to help Milo, but it seemed like they would have it under control due to their experience. “Hello.” She offered a small wave, before heading in at Metzli’s gesture. 

“It’s fine, he doesn’t owe me a drink any time soon. That can wait.” Abigail turned to face the door after entering, standing by to help Milo in if he needed it. She had the feeling that it was inevitable that he stumble again. “No need to thank me, he’s a good kid. I just didn’t want him making a decision he’d regret while in this state.” Abigail took off her hoodie, using it to dry her hair off before tying it around her waist, taking a moment to look around idly for a moment, mostly to look like she was doing something instead of staring off at the wall or the floor. People didn’t seem to like that. It was very light, but the scent of blood caught her attention, prompting her to look over at the mug. It was an extremely unusual sight for her, but it seemed completely normal to the other two in the room. 

Milo pouted when Metzli batted away his request to drink from their liquor cabinet. It felt like a twisted punishment sometimes, being able to see it, and touch it, without being able to open it. However he had come to take their denial as a playful challenge. Even though he knew the answer was going to be a resounding no, teasing Metzli by consistently pushing his luck had become a part of their daily routine. “...’s worth a shot.” He muttered, following the wall, one hand running along the smooth, and steady surface as he made his way towards the apartment. He could already smell the blood, and it was deliciously tempting. It made returning home feel less like a failure, and more like another well earned break from the realities of his life. You know the drill. He almost heard the phrase in his dad’s voice, could almost see the man standing in the entryway of his family home, waiting for him to take a drug test in the downstairs bathroom. But Metzli didn’t say it with judgement, or frustration. They said it with a tired affection. One that showed they were not only used to taking care of him, but willing to continue doing so. Abigail’s offer weighed heavily on his mind, he added her to the list of people eager to make his Sire pay. But he couldn’t take her up on it, not without talking to him first. The idea of threatening somebody, of causing them harm, or allowing somebody else to on his behalf, was so alien. It didn’t come naturally to him. Crossing the threshold, immediately swiping the mug of blood from the coffee table, he allowed the two adults to talk among themselves as he dropped unceremoniously down onto the couch.

The moment he was seated the rain clinging to his clothes became obvious. The material pressed against his skin, cold, and damp, but not uncomfortable enough for him to do anything about it. Instead he sipped at his blood, catching his fangs on the rim of the ceramic. “You’re s’posed to back me up.” He told Abigail, eyeing the liquor cabinet from where he was sitting. “They never let me into their cabinet… ‘s mean.” Narrowing his eyes, still red from his meal, he made it clear he wanted to stand by his decision, leaning into the pretence that he was home because he was missing his roommate. It wasn’t difficult considering Metzli was part of the reason he had eventually given in. “...’nd ‘m not in a state.” He added, unable to help himself. He could feel his wet hair curling at his temples, feel how dry his eyes were after crying. His clothes were dripping water, he could barely lift his arms, and yet something in him told him to continue denying he was anything other than fine. “You both worry too much…”

“Still, I really appreciate you helping him home. I’m usually driving to go pick him up.” Metzli gave Abigail a quick side hug before going back to Milo. Had it been anyone else with him, like Emilio, they probably would have been a grumpy mess given that they were in their lounge attire. Which consisted of only a pair of joggers and their sports bra. They were in good company though, so they remained as they were and walked about the apartment to find everything they needed. “Here,” They threw a towel onto Milo’s head and circled back to his bedroom to fetch a clean sweater. “Take this too and put it on instead.” The sweater landed next to him swiftly as Metzli rounded the couch and took off Milo’s shoes and socks. Sometimes it felt like they had a toddler as a roommate, but they didn’t mind. If they couldn’t convince him he had a problem, they would wait and stay by his side for as long as he needed until he could look in the mirror and accept his condition.

Metzli sighed, rising to their feet to place the shoes on the rack by the door. A solemn look took over their features as they placed the sneakers down. They knew Milo was hurting, but there wasn’t much to do but take care of his physical self. Unlike them, his story was written into his bones like braille, etching every word. Each from every line, every pill, and every puff. But he wouldn’t dare read that book because doing so would mean taking that leap without a parachute and feeling the truth with such velocity that survival couldn’t be seen. So he sat back, never daring to walk up to the edge of faith. Faith that people were on his side and didn’t see him as the problem, but the demon that resided inside. They would wait, and when he was ready, they’d take his hand, along with the many others that love him. Jump with him. And then he’d finally understand that every time they reached out, what they were really doing was saying, ‘I love you.’ 

“Why don’t you stay here, Abs? It’s coming down pretty hard and it’s late. You can take my bed. I don’t sleep anyway.”

“I wish I’d been driving, but I think it was still beneficial for both of us to talk.” Abigail’s wet boots made small tracks in the floor. She’d only taken a few steps before noticing, prompting her to remove her boots and moved to hang them in the rack next to the door so she wouldn’t drag more water inside. Her current choice in clothing made it apparent that she’d probably been out on a run before conveniently bumping into Milo. Abigail then pulled up her pant leg for a moment, removing a harness attached to her lower calf that held one of her knives, setting it inside one of her shoes. “I get why, there’s probably some really nice alcohol in that cabinet. If you want backup you should discuss the plan with me before we walk inside.” She let out a light chuckle while moving to sit down on the couch, stretching her legs out. Abigail looked over her shoulder to watch Metzli help Milo get cleaned up and settled in. It almost appeared to be some sort of unspoken routine that the two had.

Abigail almost couldn’t fathom their relationship, the two of them seemed content in the messiness that was the life they had, and there was something heartwarming in the root of the friendship there. She didn’t fully understand why they did it, or why she’d probably do the same. Abigail just knew that if the time arose, she wouldn’t be helping out of kindness or love, she’d be doing it with the knowledge that the other would do the same, and because she enjoyed seeing those she cared about safe and happy. Maybe that was what it really was after all, or maybe that was just a pessimistic way to think about it. Abigail blinked and left her thoughts behind once she heard Metzli speaking to her, returning her attention to the both of them. “I’d love to stay for the night Metz, thank you. I’ll stay on the couch if that’s okay, I’d feel more comfortable here anyways, closer to my things in the event of an emergency.” A small appreciative smile met Abigail’s cheeks as she gave a small nod, moving to lay down with her head on the armrest of the couch. 

Milo groaned in protest as a towel was thrown at his head. He only became aware of it when it hit him, and he pulled the material away from his face. Unaware of the passing of time, it felt as though only seconds later a sweater was also being forced upon him, but he was too tired, and too comfortable to put it on. He draped it lazily over his body, sinking further down into the cushions as Metzli tugged off his shoes. It was a gesture of affection he was more than used to. Even if his memories of being doted upon were hazy, he understood, and appreciated the time that his roommate spent taking care of him when he was unable to take care of himself. “...’m fine.” He insisted. “I’m jus’ gonna stay here like this…” Letting his eyes fall shut, he took a moment to enjoy the warmth that washed over him when his feet were freed from his waterlogged socks. The temperature of the apartment finally registered, and a shudder ran the length of his body. The darkness that encompassed him made it easier to focus on Metzli’s voice, and he smiled, all of the fight draining from his body. What was left of his tension, and fear fizzled away into nothing. “Hmm…” He hummed in agreement, needing Metzli to know Abigail had talked him into returning to the apartment. “Abigail didn’t want me t’ see my Sire t’night… thought it was a bad idea… I was going to though… I was going to do it…” 

Shifting his position, using his sweater as a blanket, he rested his cheek against the back of the sofa. The frames of his glasses were pressing awkwardly against his face, but he didn’t take them off. Doing so required far more effort than he was willing to expend. “There’s a lot of nice alcohol in the cabinet…” He confirmed. “They let me in it once…” Hearing Abigail move to take a seat, it made him happy to know she was going to spend the night. It was a reminder of just how much good there was in his life. Enough to counter the bad, at least. Maybe even enough to make the bad worth it. “You c’n take my bed, if you want…” He murmured, missing her comment on feeling more at home in the living room. “The mice are quiet… ‘nd the sheets are clean… probably.” The empty mug he had been clutching to his chest slipped out of his hand, landing on the cushion beside him, and he used the following freedom to curl more tightly in on himself, protecting himself from the outside world, from intrusive thoughts of the night that could have been. What would his Sire have said to him? What would he have said to his Sire? He didn’t need to dwell on questions that were impossible to answer. He could sleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that his Sire would be waiting for him whenever he was ready. And he wasn’t ready. But he had friends willing to support him when he decided he was.

Metzli’s brows furrowed in confusion at the mention of Milo’s sire. They knew, all too well, what a sire meant to those turned violently. While it wasn’t bloody and gruesome like theirs, Milo’s siring was violent all the same. Being left for dead, left alone to discover you were no longer human was a different kind of horror. Salivating at the smell of your own human blood was a jarring experience that Metzli would never forget. The very thought sent a chill down their spine as they covered both Abigail and Milo with blankets. “It was a bad idea, cariñito. But it’s okay. We’ll deal with it soon.” With a kiss to his wet and moppy hair, they sighed, bidding both their friends a good night, before they sat at their gaming desk and waited for morning to arrive.  

[stones-x-bones]

To Build A Home || Bex, Metzli and Milo

TIMING: The day after Metzli returns from this PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli, @wickedmilo, @inbextween SUMMARY: Milo and Bex meet up at Metzli’s, worried about the state of their friend. CONTENT: Medical blood, Emotional abuse mentions, Domestic abuse mentions (All paragraphs labeled accordingly for triggers)

Metzli’s reflection stared back with vacant eyes. The same eyes that watched Anselmo’s life leave him. The same eyes that watched trees blur by in silence as Macleod and them waltzed through the forest. Making a new dance. A steady and careful one that moved them through the tree line and back into White Crest. The earthquake their body created brought in a devastating tsunami that they could not halt. And as the tap ran in their sink for a little too long, tears fell to join the waterfall. 

Dejection. That was the best word for their state. Even after washing all the blood and dirt from their skin, their body was still painted with gashes, scrapes, and bruises. The chunk of neck bitten off being the focal point. It hadn’t closed nearly enough to not cause alarm. The hoodie Metzli wore barely covered it up and they didn’t have the proper medical dressings to patch it up. But that was okay for now. 

With the water shut off, Metzli moved back into the living room to sit on the couch. They had barely moved since they got back. Yuca didn’t leave their side, taking to following them everywhere. Small graces that they adored. “Ay mi vida, estoy bien.” They cooed and scritched her chin. Mind wandered to the events that transpired and they flinched. It was painful to look back, but Metzli supposed that was okay. They had lost so much, but gained as well. 

For instance, Metzli bit back at their clan for the first time ever. Made their first attempt at defense to show Eloy they were more than the definitions he thrust upon them. The painful history was embraced and within it they found the strength to rewrite the legacy. At least, that was the hope. A hope that came in waves and left Metzli to settle in their anguish when it receded with the tide. 

Milo was undeniably anxious, but he knew he needed to visit Metzli. Even if Bex would be there with them, even if it felt awkward, unfamiliar, and uncomfortable. He wanted to believe Bex wasn’t scared of him, he wanted to believe things could return to how they had been. He supposed the only way to repair their friendship was to move forward, to focus on the present. And in the present, Metzli needed them. Metzli needed them both. So, swallowing, he hitched his backpack a little higher, hearing the three bloodbags inside it slosh in a way most people would probably find disturbing. He had been sure to drink one before leaving the house, not wanting to feel any kind of thirst or temptation when his friend inevitably tore into them. Metzli had only told him to bring one, but in his experience it was far better to have too many than too few, especially when recovering from an injury. Climbing the stairs, taking them carefully in a bid to prolong his arrival, he caught a scent he recognised, a scent that confirmed he wasn’t as early as he might have hoped. Maybe it wouldn’t matter who arrived first, but he had convinced himself he would feel less self conscious if he was already in the apartment when Bex arrived. Of course, nothing was ever that simple, so he grit his teeth, forcing down what was left of his anxiety before making his way towards the end of the hall.

Bex was standing outside Metzli’s apartment, hand raised ready to knock, and he felt a jolt of guilt upon seeing her. Resisting the urge to turn and retreat, he reminded himself that he was going to have to talk to her eventually. It wasn’t fair to avoid her, not after everything he had put her through. Taking heavy steps so that she would be made aware of his presence, he caught her eye as she turned to face him, offering her a hesitant smile. Metzli’s words echoed in his mind, predator, and prey. He repressed a shudder, refusing to acknowledge them. Jeez, it shouldn’t be this difficult. His skin was crawling as he remembered the last time they had seen each other. He hated it, he hated this. He hated what he had become. “Hey…” He whispered, not wanting to draw attention to their arrival just yet. “Does… does Metzli know you’re here?” 

Bex didn’t know if vampires had first-aid kits. When Milo had shown up to their house needing stitches, Bex had wondered if it was because he didn’t have the right tools at his own. She didn’t really know how well vampires healed from wounds. She knew how fast Mina healed, she knew Morgainterrupting n healed instantly, she knew Deirdre healed quickly, she knew she herself healed extremely slow-- she still had the cuts from Milo’s teeth nearly piercing her skin before she’d thrown him off on her neck, after all-- but she didn’t know how fast vampires really healed. Milo had said his wounds had taken a few days to heal, but how bad were Metzi’s? If they’d almost died, they had to be worse, and Bex hated that thought. She didn’t know what she needed, if she needed anything, but she still stuffed the entire first-aid kit into her purse, sutures and gauze and hydrogen peroxide and all, before racing off to Metzli’s apartment. 

She hadn’t even considered how she’d feel seeing Milo again. She figured it would all just be fine, she wasn’t mad at him or anything, and she knew he hadn’t meant it, but when he called out to her and she turned to see him, her body felt frozen, and she felt her magic rushing defensively to the surface, as if expecting him to lunge again. “I-- no, they-- no,” she stumbled over her words a bit, swallowing back the fear and the guilt and lowering her hand. “I haven’t knocked yet. I ran all the way here and winded myself,” she found herself admitting, for no reason, really. She always rambled when she was anxious, or when she was worried, or when she was panicked. Especially when she was all three. “We should go inside, though. We should really just--” but she still didn’t move, blinking as she looked at Milo.

Milo wasn’t sure whether to move closer, or stay where he was. The last thing he wanted to do was make Bex uncomfortable. Hovering awkwardly, he couldn’t help the familiar rush of affection he felt when she told him she had run to the apartment. It hadn’t been necessary. They both knew Metzli wasn’t going anywhere, but Bex wouldn’t rest until she was by their side. She needed to be there for them as quickly as she was physically able. Sometimes he found himself wishing she would put herself first, even once. But it wasn’t in her nature, and as somebody who frequently put himself first, he found it to be an incredibly admirable trait. “Yeah, we- we probably should.” He eyed the door, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before speaking again, stopping her from announcing their arrival. He needed to say something, he wouldn’t feel right until he apologised. “Bex-” He took a hesitant step closer, breaking off as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it but I- I’m really sorry.” Apologies were difficult, he spent most of his life deflecting responsibility so that he wouldn’t have to accept it. But this was different, he owed her this much. 

Glancing down at her neck, tearing his gaze away before it could linger on the scarf hiding the evidence of his attack, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t know I could lose it like that, not when I wasn’t hungry. I still have so much to learn but it… it shouldn’t come at the expense of my friends.” He caught her eye, his vision suddenly blurred by tears. He hurried to blink them away. “I should have told you- the moment I realised you were bleeding, I should have told you how I was feeling. It wasn’t fair… I was just so scared, and confused, and when the danger was gone this relief came crashing down and it overwhelmed me.” He took another step forward, listening to her heartbeat to ensure he wasn’t making her nervous. “Can you forgive me?” His voice sounded small, even to his own ears, and he realised he felt small. If she said no, he would be crushed. This level of vulnerability was alien, and unfamiliar to him. “I don’t want you to forgive me because you want me to be okay. I want you to be honest, Bex… I only want you to be okay.” 

Bex turned to knock again but Milo said her name and she paused mid motion, again, glancing over at him. He wanted to talk about what happened and that made sense, but Bex didn’t really want to talk about it. This didn’t feel like the right time to talk about it. But she couldn’t just go inside and ignore him. She turned to look at him as he spoke, stumbling this way through an apology. And it wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but she was curious. Hadn’t she already told him it was okay? That she didn’t blame him? Well, he hadn’t stayed online long enough for her to say much. She’d asked if he was okay and wanted to make sure that he was okay, and he hadn’t said much back. She looked at her feet, and then at him. “I-- I never said I didn’t want to talk about it,” she corrected quietly, shuffling her feet. “And I know. That you’re sorry. I know all that. I--” she stopped mid sentence, perplexed. “What do you mean can I forgive you? I already did? Milo, that...everything that happened that night was my fault. I don’t blame you for what happened. We were-- things were bad and dire and sometimes we just lose control. I...I know that feeling.” And she did, god did she know. Maybe it wasn’t a bloodlust or a murderous rage, but it was rage-- rage that could hurt and could make you bleed and could kill. 

“I forgive you,” she stated, “I promise.” 

The ringing in Metzli’s ears began to subside and they could hear Milo and Bex clear as day outside of the door. Yuca was rubbing up against it, the first time she’d strayed away from their side. Legs moved involuntarily towards her, towards the voices of friends that were coming over to help. Statements of apologies and blood and control and forgiveness…

Voices cut in and out, growing muffled and clear over and over again. It was a state of mind they hadn’t experienced before. A culmination of what had happened. A product of violence, pain, and distress. Metzli’s friends needed time, so they gave it to them. Waiting by the door, playing with the pendent Macleod had given them. Pressure built and it waned, only to build up once again. As a promise was spoken and as it tethered to Milo, the door opened suddenly. Eyes darted back and forth from the clasp around the door to Milo and Bex standing outside of the doorframe. 

“Uh…I—super hearing.” Their voice was a mutter, barely audible. Metzli couldn’t move, realizing that they had just revealed not only what they heard, but their current state. 

Milo faltered. Bex was right, she hadn’t said that. He realised, not for the first time, that he was projecting onto her. He was the one finding it impossible to navigate their situation. And he was trying to blame her for the emotional turmoil. He stayed silent, mulling over his realisation, along with his friend’s reassurances. He didn’t feel as though he had earned them, but he needed them far too much to try and deny himself. Feeling his shoulders drop as tension he didn’t know he was carrying left his body, he smiled again. This smile was far more sincere, a genuine smile, conveying his love, and his gratitude. “Not everything,” he pointed out. If he had only been better at communicating, she could have helped him, or made her escape before he lost control of himself. Instead, he had allowed himself to become distracted, too embarrassed, and ashamed of his craving to admit that he might be a danger. “I’ll be better.” He added. “I will.” Reaching up to brush the tears out of his eyes, doing his best to compose himself, Bex had been one of the first people to explain the true depth of a promise, and it wasn’t lost on him how important it was that she was making one now. She was okay. She wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t the truth, and he finally, finally allowed himself to relax. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from his chest, but before he could fully process the sensation, the door beside Bex opened to reveal Metzli; battered, and bruised, but otherwise whole. 

[MED BLOOW TW]

Staring at them in shock, hoping his concern wasn’t obvious in his expression, he did his best to assess their injuries without drawing attention to them. Jeez, they were so much worse than he ever could have imagined. Maybe he should be fussing over them, running his hands through their hair to check for any further damage, observing their pupils for signs of concussion, or their temperature in case they had developed an infection. But Metzli was a vampire, and despite being one himself, he still wasn’t adept when it came to undead first aid. So  he decided to do what he was good at, and he played off the situation as casual. “You look like shit.” The words escaped him before he could question whether they were appropriate, and he reached into his backpack, pulling out a bloodbag to thrust it upon Metzli. They needed to drink, that much he was sure of. Ignoring the smell of death that seemed to surround them, the congealed, and disconcerting scent of blood no longer circulating its body, he brushed past them into their apartment, gesturing towards the now empty couch. “Sit, Metzli. I mean it, you need to rest.”

[MED BLOOD TW END] 

Bex, unlike MIlo, let all the worry and concern and fear show on her face. She was bad at hiding it now. She’d spent twenty-one years learning how to hide how she felt only to have it undone by just a few people in a matter of months. “Metzli,” Bex exhaled and as Milo pushed past, she just surged forward and wrapped her arms around them and felt the physical weight of their body in her arms and knew that it was real. They were okay. They were alive. She couldn’t even remember how many times she’d worried Mina wouldn’t come home, how many times she’d looked at her text messages and wondered if it was just someone else texting her and it wasn’t real. Things never felt real. But this was real. Metzli was real. She blinked back tears as she unfurled, reluctantly, and looked up at their face. It was torn and cut and bruised and there was just a gaping wound in their neck and Bex had to swallow because the last time she’d seen someone this torn up was when she’d found Mina half-dead in a forest clearing, bleeding out caught in a bear trap. 

“Sorry, I-- I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She scraped the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping the tears away and gently tugging them inside, shutting the door. “Milo’s right, you should sit. I-- I brought supplies. First aid supplies. I can-- treat some of that. Or try to. I’m not a doctor but I know a little bit. I know how to do stitches, I learned after-- I learned recently.” Maybe, if she kept talking, she wouldn’t think about the people she cared about dying. Maybe her thoughts wouldn’t stop long enough for her to see them dead and bleeding and screaming. Maybe, if she kept talking, the images Roy had made her see wouldn’t come back.

[MED BLOOD TW]

Everything happened at once. The blood bag in their hand and the feeling of being squeezed forced Metzli to tense their whole body. But they were relieved, so happy to see both of them. And despite the lingering feeling of hope and happiness, their body trembled. From what exactly, they didn’t know. It was overwhelming, though and they were unprepared for how the effects would make their body react. Tightened eyes caused stars to shine brightly, even tighter body caused the two to stumble and push out a small groan. “Not any more hurt than I was before.” A smile teetered off of their face and pupils contracted as vampiric instincts infected their body. “B-Bex, back up—” They managed to say just before swiveling their body away from her to pierce the bag and wolf down the contents. The blood was the antidote and the effects of it were jarring. Having grown used to the dryness of their throat, Metzli hadn’t anticipated the bulldozing relief of consuming sustenance. Legs gave out and knees buckled, followed by a bony thud when they made impact with the floor. 

[MED BLOOD TW END]

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Overwhelmed.” Metzli quickly said with an uncharacteristically empty voice. “Thanks, Milo.” The two locked eyes for a blink and the vacancy in theirs was prominent. Fear and pain made Metzli ill and deteriorated the person they once were. They were practically unrecognizable. Not from appearance, but from energy, or lack thereof.

A leg pulled forward, a hand leveraged itself on a knee, and they were upright once more. Bruises and cuts, even the bite, they were all visibly healing. Metzli felt better too. Not by much, but it was enough. More than enough. At least, physically. Emotionally and mentally, they felt far from better. But when it came to issues of the heart, the vampire tried to pretend they were unaffected. Even if it was useless. “I don’t know if I need medical attention. Most things aren’t as deep as they were. Don’t know if, um…” Words failed them, too nervous about fully revealing their most severe wound. A trembled hand pulled their hoodie down a little, and Metzli avoided both pairs of eyes. “Don’t know if you can stitch this. It’s uh, wide.”

Milo watched Bex embrace Metzli as he dropped his bag by the kitchen unit. There was something so wholesome about it, he could feel just how much his friends cared for each other. And he knew that if he was the one injured, they would be there for him in the same way. A strange realisation. He had spent so long only really having Dani, and a handful of people who enabled his habits, but who didn’t feel as though they could really be considered friends. Now he was surrounded by love in a way he never had been. In a way that made his still heart ache inside his chest. Maybe this was what it felt like to truly belong. Catching Bex’s eye at the mention of stitches, he offered her a gentle smile, remembering how she and Mina had taken care of him when he was drunk with nobody else to turn to. Averting his gaze as Metzli withdrew, turning their back to drink the blood he had given them, he wasn’t sure whether he was imagining the awkward tension. If Bex’s words in the hall were anything to go by then it was entirely in his head. But he didn’t look back up until Metzli had finished drinking.

The moment they were done with the empty plastic, he moved forward to take it back, but before he had the chance Metzli had fallen to their knees. Feeling a jolt of fear, he hurried to reach them, trying to understand why they had suddenly collapsed. The expression on their face was so unfamiliar, and when they spoke he realised they no longer sounded like Metzli. It was clear they were suffering mentally as well as physically, but right now their physical wellbeing was the only thing he could actively help with. “There’s more where that came from.” He told them, crouching beside them so they were on the same level. “I brought three bags, and I can always get more…” Trailing off, up close the bruises and cuts looked so much worse. He couldn’t help but stare at their throat, at the skin and tissue that was healing, but nowhere near fast enough to stop the injury from looking absolutely horrific. “Even if it doesn’t help, we’re treating you.” He said, leaving no room for argument as he forced himself to focus. He shot Bex a look, knowing they both felt the same way. It might not make a difference but they longed to be proactive, they wouldn’t be able to rest until they knew they had done everything within their power to heal their friend. “Come on, sit down…” When he was sure Metzli was steady on their feet, he stood upright, gestured towards the couch again, making sure they followed his instruction. Wincing, unable to help himself, as they pulled down the collar of their hoodie, he pushed his glasses further up his nose. “We’ll do what we can, okay?”

Bex tried to do as Metzli said and back away, but before she knew it, they were collapsing to their knees, and even Milo was rushing to their side to see if he could help. She fought the urge to grab them in her arms again and sidled over, uneasy, wondering if she should help or if she was supposed to still stay back. The blood bag was emptied, though, so she took that as a sign that she’d be able to approach. “Milo’s right, let’s just...get you to the couch and go from there,” she said, nodding, trying not to look at or think about the cuts and bruises on Metzli’s face. And that was just what she could see. She held out a hand, even as Metzli showed them the extent to the injury on their neck and Bex tried not to think about how it matched the gash in Mina’s side that Frank had left behind. She hurried Metzli over to the couch as much as she could, before dropping her purse and pulling out the first-aid kit she’d brought. “Okay, maybe no stitches, but I can at least wrap it, right? Cover it up a little, make sure it heals right. I mean, me and Mina helped Milo a few weeks ago, so this isn’t, like any different.”

She didn’t know if that was true, she didn’t think it was true. But she had to believe that, if she could heal the wounds, then maybe the ones inside might get better, too. Her hands shook as she unraveled a roll of gauze and held it up. “Just let us help, okay? That’s why we’re here. And-- and this way you won’t have to worry about hurting it more or getting things in the wound.”

With a nod, Metzli took Bex’s hand and listened to both of their friends. The weight they were feeling before, having to carry everything on their own, began to subside. It wasn’t just them carrying it anymore. This was a boxing match that they were tapping out of, for now, so their friends could take over. “Thanks,” They muttered, looking distantly at the black television in front of the couch. “Help. Right. I, uh. Right.” They removed the hoodie slowly, groaning in discomfort from the aches and pains. A slew of bruises and cuts covered their skin and two stab wounds lay at their lower abdomen. “Forgot about those.” A shaky finger pointed and they chuckled dryly. Being taken care of wasn’t a norm and it brought a sense of anxiety with it. Is this okay? Is this right? They’re in danger because of you. And despite the thoughts that circled in their mind, that paced a trail of misery, they leaned back onto the couch. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Which was a lie, it was even worse than it looked. Taking on several vampires, especially one that was over two hundred year old was extremely dangerous. The results of it were devastating and created wounds deeper than what any stab wound could make. “I’m really sorry you guys are caught up in this now. It’s my fault. And if I need to leave, I will. I swear.” Metzli began to ramble, to panic now that the mass was shared and no longer held the dam of anxiety and fear back. “I’m just sorry.” Was all that could be said as they looked away to avoid their friends from seeing their tears. 

Feeling an odd sense of pride upon hearing he was right, Milo pushed it aside so that he could focus on helping Bex. He didn’t get many things right in his life, but maybe he had found something he was genuinely good at. Maybe he was good at helping his friends. At the mention of his stitches, he pointedly rolled up his sleeve, showing Metzli the faint marks left by the first aid that his friends had applied. It hadn’t been too long ago, but months may as well have passed him by. “Barely even a scar, I think it’ll be gone in a week or two.” He added, as though Metzli needed any more convincing. They didn’t look like they had the energy to protest, which was probably going to work in their favour. When they were comfortably settled on the couch, he pulled a second blood bag out of his backpack, handing it to them with a look that told them they had no choice but to drink it. “She’s pretty good, you know… Doctor Bex. Even as a vampire, I doubt it’s healthy to leave it all exposed like that…” Catching Bex’s eye, a warmth spreading outwards from his chest when she said we’re, he smiled at her, pulling his sleeve back down again. They were in this together now, with a common goal. With somebody they needed to protect. “And we’re not going anywhere either.” He moved to take a seat beside Metzli, knowing he didn’t have much to offer beyond moral support, and some blood. Bex had the tools to really help, and he trusted her medical abilities. 

Understanding Metzli taking Bex’s hand was a sign of submission, a sign of surrendering themself to her care, he grinned, and it came far more easily than he might have expected. The situation was serious, and terrifying, but they had each other. And at least he and Bex weren’t going to have to fight against any stubborn insistence, or false bravado. “You don’t have to thank us, moron.” He carefully tugged at the hem of Metzli’s hoodie, helping to get it over their head without the material brushing against the worst of their injuries. Folding it neatly in his lap, it took all of three seconds for Yuca to jump onto it, obviously comforted by the scent of her owner. “Jeez, Metzli…” He muttered, looking away as they gestured towards their stomach. It seemed they had managed to get hurt in every area physically possible. How they were still walking and talking remained a mystery. “Bullshit.” He countered. “It’s every bit as bad as it looks. Why else do you think we came?” Scratching Yuca behind the ears, he pointedly held their gaze, daring them to try and contradict him. “And you’re not going anywhere either. No fucking way. What would you say if this was one of us?” He asked. It was undeniably a rhetorical question. One that they all knew the answer to. Making an effort to soften his tone as he noticed the sudden peak in Metzli’s anxiety, he leaned forward so that they would be forced to look at him. “Hey… Hey, look at me, Metzli. You don’t have to worry about anything else right now, just look at me and- I don’t know, tell me something interesting? What’s your favourite colour?” Glancing at Bex, he silently conveyed his plan to distract Metzli while she set to work on treating them. “Or favourite song? If you say anything with an apology in the title I will destroy your hoodie, don’t think I won’t.” 

It was strange. Last time Bex had been trying to patch up someone this beat up, she’d had too few medical supplies, wondering if they’d make it through to the morning, or if they might both just die in the night. This time, she had too much supplies, as she sorted through the first-aid kit and looked for something labeled antiseptic or antibiotic. There was a little spray bottle with hydrogen peroxide in it and she picked it up, listening to Milo talk to Metzli. He seemed at ease, in his element, right now. Bex, however, could only let dark thoughts consume her, as she sprayed a cotton pad with the peroxide and tried not to show the horror on her face when the rest of their injuries came into view. She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing away and occupying herself with finishing up prepping the bandages. “Just...hold still,” she said after a moment, holding up the pad and pressing it to the patch on their neck, before she took the gauze and began wrapping it around. “That’s um, not too tight, is it?” She moved in closer to make sure she wasn’t messing it up, before taking the small scissors and cutting it off. Taped it down gently and sat back, looking to the gashes on their stomach.

[MED BLOOD TW/DOMESTIC ABUSE TW]

All she could see was the oozing, black wound Frank had left on Mina’s side and Bex fought to not just leap up and run away. She reached out with shaky fingers to touch gently next to the wound on their abdomen. “I should probably clean this, first,” she explained, trying not to let the anxiety and warble of Metzli’s voice get to her just yet. She couldn’t cry just yet. She looked over at Milo, then to Metzli. “It’s true. There’s no need to apologize. We-- we’re here because we want to be. Because you’re important to us.” She breathed in, held it. She hated seeing the people she cared about like this, while being too weak to do anything. Mina, Milo, Metzli...they could do these things, while Bex’s fragile heart barely let her get up the stairs nowadays. “No one’s going anywhere.”

[MED BLOOD TW/DOMESTIC ABUSE TW END]

With a deep swallow, Metzli managed to look back at Milo and listen fully. He sounded kind and worried. He sounded like he truly cared. Bex too. But her care came in the form of actions as she got them patched up. She moved with the gentlest of touch and caution, making them feel safe. “Mauve. Or forest green. Both nice colors.” They began, piercing the second blood bag that Milo had given them and sipping on it as they pondered on the second question. Most of their favorite songs were likely ones neither of them had heard of. Being that they were both classical and Mexican in origin. So they picked something they may recognize. “Oddly enough, I like that Linkin Park group. Uh, One More Light. Or that Swift chick. That new album was actually written okay-ish.” The corner of Metzli’s mouth curved into a small smirk, before frowning from the small wince they reacted from the gauze with. “No, not too tight. It just hurts in general.” 

The tremor in Bex’s voice began to set in a worry that couldn’t be fought off. Wolfing down the last remnants of the blood bag, Metzli lifted a hand to Bex’s face and had her pause for a moment while they cupped her cheek. “You can take a second. I know it’s a lot. Just breathe a little. I’m okay. I’m alive.” Slowly, that same hand backed away and patted Milo’s shoulder. They smiled wryly, but it was soft and grateful. “You too. Thank you. Both of you.” 

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Never having a real family, Metzli always had to step out on their own, taking lonely steps into the storm. Weathering it alone was hard, and sometimes it seemed impossible. But right now, the future, making it there, seemed very possible. They were no longer left to get bloodied and dirtied alone, and maybe they couldn’t fully accept it yet, but they were going to try. Because it felt good. Because it felt right. It felt right to use the veins of their heart like a thread to connect themselves, their own heart to others who were willing to go into war with them. Others like Milo and Bex. And in the end, they wouldn’t have to count their pride as one of the casualties. Relying on people didn’t have to mean sacrificing pride. It just meant that you were expanding on it. Being proud of who you had. 

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

“Do I at least still look good?”

Staying quiet so that he wouldn’t disrupt Bex, Milo listened to Metzli’s answers, deciding that forest green suited them as a person. “Mauve is nice…” He agreed, his voice gentle as he did his best to distract them from any pain they might be feeling. “I like yellow… I think it’s a happy colour.” Anybody who knew him would be able to see yellow was his favourite. From his knitted sweaters, to his converse, he wore yellow far more often than not. The smell of blood hit him with force as Metzli began to drink the second bag, he was far closer than he had been for the first one. But he didn’t allow himself to dwell, almost proud of the fact that he was able to force down any thirst he felt. “You like Linkin Park?” He echoed in disbelief, doing nothing to stop a laugh from escaping him. “Do people even listen to them anymore?” Raising his eyebrows at the following names, if he had been surprised by Linkin Park, he was downright shocked to hear his friend list Taylor Swift as an artist they enjoyed. “Wow, I knew you had bad taste,” he teased, “but not that bad. This might be the end of our friendship.” His smile growing when he noticed Metzli’s lips twitch, it was all the validation he needed to continue in his strategy. But he was pulled out of his own thoughts by Metzli reaching out to caress Bex, their fingers soft, and comforting against her cheek. He suddenly felt guilty, remembering this wasn’t just about Metzli. He was used to the aftermath of injuries, not only because he was a vampire, but because of the people he used to surround himself with as a human. 

He had been known to panic under the stress of chaos, but things weren’t chaotic right now. He was more than adept when it came to focusing on the task at hand, but maybe Bex wasn’t. Maybe this was a lot for her. Realistically, it should be a lot for anyone. “Alive, with terrible taste in music, apparently.” He added, hoping to draw a smile from both of his friends. It made sense to try and comfort them while he was the most emotionally stable, even if he wasn’t used to that particular brand of responsibility. Leaning into Metzli’s touch, he shook his head to brush off their thanks. “No thank yous, and no apologies, okay?” He ordered, knowing they were never going to follow his instruction. He could hold a stake to their heart and they would insist upon taking the blame. “The assumption being that you ever looked good?” He asked, feigning innocence despite laughing at his own joke, despite the deep, and painful injuries littering Metzli’s skin, despite being unable to avoid acknowledging just how close they had come to death… true death. He wanted to cling to the fact that they had survived their attack. They were still here, and for a brief moment in time, nothing else needed to matter.

Bex listened as she worked and tried to use their conversation as a distraction as much as Metzli was. Milo was doing a good job, keeping them at ease, even if they all knew this mess had been created by something far more terrible than it was being made out to be. She swallowed and tried to calm the shaking in her hand, reaching over with her free hand to stabilize it when she felt a cold hand against her cheek. She looked up to meet Metzli’s eyes, still for a moment, as she tried not to just surge forward and hug them again. But they were right, she had to remind herself they were right. They were alive and they were okay, and they could take their time, now, to regather and come up with a better plan so that this didn’t happen again. So that there wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened. So that Bex wouldn’t have to live through another Frank trying to kill someone she cared about. 

She nodded and set her hands in her lap. She felt embarrassed, almost, that she couldn’t keep it together long enough to patch up her friend. Even Milo was taking this better than her. She knew Milo and Metzli were close, but she wondered if it was a different kind of close than her and Metzli. There was something between them but Bex couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly. “Taylor Swift is a great artist,” she said, mostly at Milo, before she gathered enough of herself to look back at Metzli and hold up the pad to begin cleaning their wounds. “And you look very handsome. Chicks dig scars anyway, right?”

Metzli scowled playfully at Milo, and blew a single raspberry at him. “Excuse me? I have great taste in music. Those are just the artists you’d know, for your information. Most of my music consists of classical and kumbia. At least you have decent taste in colors.” Stomach rumbled with their laughter and wincing only made them laugh more. Somehow laughing while in pain made it that much funnier. Being safe in the presence of friends made it feel safe to laugh. Whatever wounds they had would heal and fade, but the connection and care they had for one another wouldn’t. It was set in deeper than anyone could reach. 

Being confident in their looks, a hand shot up to flip Milo off accordingly. “You’re just coming after me, huh? At least Bex has taste. She can’t take her eyes off of me, see? And it totally does not have to do with my wounds. Just my wonderful physique.” Metzli couldn’t help the smile that they poorly held back, letting it turn into a fit of laughter as they adjusted themselves to be closer to Bex and settle down. When the spray hit their wound, it surprisingly stung, making their hand jerk and squeeze Bex’s knee. If there was anyone they trusted to be remotely affectionate with, it was her. Meanwhile, Milo was someone they trusted to speak openly with and find the balance between humor and venting. 

“By chicks, do you mean you, B—” They flinched again, and this time their other hand shot out to Milo, grabbing his hand. “Sorry. It stings a little.” Despite wanting to retract their hand, feeling like they may have invaded his space, they didn’t. The affection felt normal and like it was something they were missing out on. Letting themselves relax, they let their hands rest with each friend, finding comfort in it.

Grinning at Bex as she countered both of his statements, Milo’s eyes were shining in a way that made it clear just how much he enjoyed teasing her. It made things feel normal, somehow. And far less dire than they probably were. “Hm, this is something I have been told.” He added, trying to keep a straight face as though they were discussing an incredibly serious topic. “Why do you think I keep my scars to a minimum? I don’t want to spend my time fending them off, you know?” Biting down on his bottom lip to repress a smile, he gave up on any pretense when Metzli stuck their tongue out. It felt good to see them behaving so much like themself after their empty expression from earlier. It felt as though the presence of friends might be grounding them, might be slowly pulling them back to the surface. “So what you’re telling me is you have bad taste, and you’re pretentious?” He countered, catching Metzli’s gaze now that he was sure Bex had settled again. “Good to know.” Embarrassed to feel tears sting at his eyes when the unexpected sound of Metzli’s laughter hit him, he blinked them away, brushing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his hoodie. Bex and Metzli were both struggling, he needed to be the strong one, even if he didn’t really know how. “Yeah, I’m coming after you, because you nearly got yourself killed, and I don’t want to live in a world without Metzli Bernal, okay? This is me officially calling you out.” Glancing back at Bex, he couldn’t help but laugh. After so much worry, and concern, he needed this. He really fucking needed this.

Shifting on the couch so that Metzli had more room to adjust their position, the spray had obviously hurt them, but there wasn’t very much he could do to offer them comfort. He didn’t want to invade their personal space, but he was saved from the moral conflict when Metzli reached out first, taking his hand and holding it as though it was going to tether them, help them to navigate their obvious pain. He stared down at their hands, fingers linked as though it was natural, as though they had done this a million times before, and he realised with a jolt that it felt natural. He held them with a grip he hoped was gentle, and firm. He wanted them to know they were safe, at least for now. He wanted them to know that he was with them. “Squeeze my hand if it hurts, Metzli.” He prompted, noticing the way they were gripping at Bex’s knee. “My bones are a lot harder to break.” 

[MED BLOOD TW]

In the moment, Bex really appreciated the mutual understanding that Milo and her seemed to have. He knew what she needed from him, what Metzli needed from him, and he seemed to be trying his damndest to do it for them, despite the sparkle of tears that she saw glimmering in his eye. She tried to pass him a short smile before she grabbed the suture needle and held it up, frowning at Metzli’s teasing. Her cheeks turned red involuntarily and she looked away, hiding it as much as she could, before leaning forward and squeezing together one of Metzli’s wounds and jabbing the needle in, a little less gentle than she normally would have. “Oops,” she said, grinning innocently up at Metzli,” my bad.” As she continued, she gave it a much more gentle hand, making sure to not pull too hard as she threaded the needle through their cold, damp skin. She looked up at them when she was done with the first patch and smiled. “See? My sewing lessons in school actually paid off.” She ushered to the next one and for Metzli to shift so she could get better access to it, laying her hands flat on their side for a moment, warming the skin up around the wound. “And you do have a nice physique. I’m allowed to look,” she stated, as if there was no room for argument. She didn’t look over at Milo, though.

[MED BLOOD TW END]

She glanced down at their hand on her knee. “So what if I do dig scars? My girlfriend has plenty for me to admire.” She took up the needle again and set to work, looking over at Milo. “Please don’t break anything. I would like to only have to patch up one friend at a time, thanks.”

There was a strained laugh when Bex admitted she was allowed to look. It always felt so humorous when she revealed her attraction to Metzli in some form or fashion. They supposed it fed into their ego, but at this point, it was just a fun game. “It’s always hilarious to get you to admit I’m attractive. See, Milo? I’m hot.” Metzli laughed harder, but tried to contain it in order to let Bex work effectively. The wincing was kept to a minimum for the most part, but at some points, it was difficult to keep the groans of pain muffled. When they squeezed their hands, it wasn’t too hard, but enough to cause notice. “Sorry. I just—sorry.” The pain took them back to their fear, the fear of Eloy’s impending arrival. 

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

With the final stitch, Metzli’s eyes shut tightly and they tried their best to hold whatever tears that flowed forward, back. They could see Anselmo attacking them, they could see Eloy punishing them once again, they could see themselves dying and all of it scared them. They’d never been scared of dying before, but then again, they’d never had anything to lose. All humor was lost now, and tears streamed down their face even though they tried desperately to go back to what they were before.

Finally, their voice broke through and Metzli was able to ask their friends what had been on their mind. “Has Master Eloy contacted both of you? Did he threaten you?”

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Milo watched Bex tease Metzli before fully dedicating herself to her task. It was clear she was feeling more comfortable, less overwhelmed by their current situation. Rolling his eyes at the mention of Metzli’s physique, he decided not to say anything. There were only so many times he could playfully disagree before it stopped being funny, and started feeling cruel. “Sure,” he answered instead. “You can’t choose what you’re into, right?” His smile growing when Bex began to talk about Mina’s scars, he ignored the voice in the back of his mind, the one telling him he was the only person in the room without some form of romantic interest. It was something he had been thinking about an awful lot, as of late. And he hated that he had started to want something so unnecessary, and inconsequential. Hadn’t he spent his entire life without a boyfriend, or a significant other? He was perfectly fine on his own. “Hey, if I break anything it’s going to be Metzli’s fault.” He pointed out, holding up their joined hands. “Don’t look at me.” Tightening his grip so that Metzli would know he wasn’t being serious, he inched closer to them, letting his shoulder rest against theirs. 

[EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

“Hot is subjective.” He added, unable to help himself when Metzli continued to encourage their friend. Though it was undeniably amazing to see them so genuinely happy, it didn’t last as long as he might have hoped. The pain, and reality of their injuries was all too ready to bring them back down again. But he stayed where he was, knowing they would find comfort in the physical contact. “Do you want to talk about something else?” He asked, noticing they had closed their eyes. If only he could distract them, but he wasn’t given the chance. If anything, Metzli decided now was the time to distract him. Caught off guard by the mention of Eloy, he so wished he could convince them to stop calling him Master. It made him uncomfortable, it was an unsettling reminder that no matter what Metzli said, they still had a warped sense of respect for the man, or at the very least some twisted sense of loyalty. Tensing in a way he knew wouldn’t go unnoticed, he caught Bex’s eye, silently questioning whether they should be honest about what had transpired. “I-” He broke off, the words dying in his throat. “I don’t think you should be worrying about that. Not right now.” 

[EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

Bex’s nose scrunched. “Why’s it funny? I’ve never denied your attractiveness. You’re very attractive and so is Milo. You know,” she glanced over at him with a cheeky grin, “for a guy.” With the stitches finished, Bex leaned back. “There.” She reached out to pat Metzli’s leg, taking the hand they’d placed on her knee and squeezing it. Her face faltered at the mention of Eloy and the messages and she cast a quick look over to Milo, wondering what he might say about it. As she thought, he decided to try and avoid the topic. Milo didn’t like lying to his friends. He already told Bex he didn’t think she should hide this from Mina, but he didn’t understand-- sometimes you needed to lie, to keep people safe, to keep them okay. Mina was dealing with too much right now, she didn’t need this, too. And Metzli didn’t need to know what he’d said to her, they were also dealing with enough. Bex swallowed, forced a smile, and shook her head. “No, but, like Milo said, let’s not think about that right now,” she urged.

[DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW]

Metzli was crying, though, and Bex really hated it when people she cared about cried. She reached out with her free hand and wiped away some of the tears on their face. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, “you’re safe.” Those were words she’d needed to hear every time she’d thought her mother might come barging in to Morgan’s house and try and steal her away. Or every time she thought she might fall back into that dark alleyway where she was being mauled to death by a friend. Or stalked by Frank. Or dying in a cabin. You’re safe, you’re safe. But Bex was beginning to realize that no one was ever really safe. There wasn’t safe, there was just feeling safe. Being with people who you trusted to keep you safe, to protect you. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms back around Metzli, gently this time. She wanted to be that safe person. She could be that safe person. 

  [DOMESTIC/EMOTIONAL ABUSE TW END]

And, besides, Eloy hadn’t technically threatened her. Only the people she loved. She’d tear him limb from limb while he was still alive, though, if he even touched any of them. That she was sure of.

Metzli zoned out again, consumed by the anxiety that was reeling through their mind. And then their hand was squeezed, and then arms surrounded them. Body went stiff and they almost lashed out until they could see Bex clearly. Safety. “Right. I don’t have to think about it…right now.” Relaxing into Bex, they let their tears fall and settled into her arms, still squeezing Milo’s hand. Having friends was not a bad thing. Connections weren’t bad. Everything Eloy had taught them was wrong. That was becoming more and more clear. 

“Can we just stay here?” Metzli asked through small, choked sobs. “I just want to feel safe.”

“Ha ha, can we not?” Milo deadpanned, his eyes shining as he looked between his friends. But he soon fell silent again, a familiar sense of sobriety settling over him. He hadn’t lied to Metzli, he had been honest in the fact that Eloy’s messages weren’t something they should be thinking about while they were trying to rest and recover. Bex had outright told them no, told them Eloy hadn’t made any effort to get into contact. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but he couldn’t bring himself to take back her words. It wasn’t his place, and it would only make the situation worse. Waiting patiently as Bex brushed away Metzli’s tears, he smiled to himself. There was something so genuinely innocent about Bex holding Metzli, nothing else really came into play. Age, species, soul or no soul… he would do almost anything for these two people. He loved them unconditionally, and that was what he needed to focus on. He saw Metzli tense upon instinct, but he also saw the moment they realised they were safe, saw the moment that tension filtered from their body to be replaced by something soft, and sincere. “No, you don’t…” He assured them, making a note to tell them about Eloy’s messages when they were feeling better. “Of course we can stay here… we aren’t going anywhere.” Reaching out to carefully pack away the medical supplies, when they were safely inside their container he wrapped an arm around Metzli, and Bex, pulling them closer so that he could rest his cheek against Metzli’s shoulder. There weren’t many places he considered home, but Metzli’s apartment was very quickly becoming one of them. 

Maybe, Bex thought, maybe things would all be okay. Maybe this problem would solve itself and no one else would get hurt. But she knew that wasn’t true. She didn’t say much as Milo folded into the hug with them and she settled her head against Metzli’s quiet chest. There was no heartbeat, and none from Milo either, so it was only her heart, beating slow but steady-- something it hadn’t done in a long time-- as she listened to the quiet sobs coming from her friend. She bit the inside of her cheek and held back her own. “We’ll stay,” she answered after a long moment of silence, “I’m not going anywhere.” She moved herself and shimmied onto the couch beside Metzli, kept them in her arms. “You’re safe.” 

And maybe Bex didn’t quite believe that, but she could make sure Metzli did. That was really all that mattered.

[stolensiren]

@deathisanartmetzli

[pm] For the most part, yeah. I broke his nose. Pounced on him. 

He […] tried to cover me with a blanket and the weight freaked me out. I bumped up my therapy. 

Maybe you shouldn’t see me for a while, okay? I hurt Milo already and I don’t want to hurt you too. I don’t feel anything about what I did and that isn’t right, you know? Just worried that all my work to be good is kind of undone now.

[pm] It’s not really your fault, Metzli. Or his. Things like this are out of anybody’s control. But more therapy is good. It’ll help. Probably?

No. I’m not ditching my friend when they’re hurting just because there’s small chance something might happen. Anyway, I’m a superhero, remember? You couldn’t hurt me if you tried. I’d be fine.

One mistake --- that wasn’t even your fault --- doesn’t undo all the effort you’ve made. You’re trying. You’re still trying. That’s all there is to it, Metzli. That’s all.

[braindeacl]

Token of Love | Eilidh & Milo

TIMING: Current. PARTIES: @wickedmilo & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Milo has been sober for 2 weeks. Eilidh makes him something to celebrate. WARNINGS: Addiction, drug abuse.

It wasn’t unusual for Metzli, and EIlidh to go on trips together. Whether it be to the centre of White Crest, the deepest recesses of the forest, or places Milo had never heard of before, and likely would never hear of again… he could always count on them to return. Sometimes they behaved suspiciously, sometimes it was obvious they were only leaving to hunt, or have sex in places they really shouldn’t be having sex in. He had learned the hard way not to ask too many questions, but regardless, always insisted on seeing them off. He wasn’t dramatic. There were no serious goodbyes, or meaningful, drawn out hugs, but like a child might hover by the front door as their parents got ready for work, he had taken to doing the same. Lingering in the new entrance hall, beside the steps leading down to his basement bedroom, he watched affectionately as Metzli wandered by, disappearing into the living area. There was an undeniable sense of excitement in the air. Metzli had mentioned a date a couple of days prior, he could only assume that was the reason for it. Taking comfort in the fact that, no matter what, the two always managed to come back to him, he offered Eilidh a quiet smile. She glanced towards where Metzli was still occupied before crossing the distance between them, looking at him with intent, as though she had something important that she wanted to say. “If you’re going to tell me to behave myself while you’re out, you really don’t need to do that anymore.” He teased, his curiosity peaked. It was much harder to do any damage when he was clean, and sober. Suddenly it felt difficult to get himself into trouble. “If anything I should be the one telling you to be careful. Use protection and all that…” He grinned, his eyes shining with mischief.

Eilidh didn’t understand his change. His urge. At first, it felt they had lost a part of their bond. Their fun times suddenly washed away, forever. Her assumption was placed on those words on bitter tongues. Pressures from peers culminating in the opposite of what parents warned. More like made a big fuss of, she thought. She had her own experiences with drug consumption. In how it often consumed you, too. A deal she agreed with each puff and sniff and prick, for every good was paired with its opposite. Balanced. A thought that hardly left her lips at the sight of Milo’s determination. He had no use for that cycle. Well, at least, there was a want for that disinterest. A difficult battle. It made her worried for the days to come; made her want to discourage it all. She felt she should. But… it was an effort that made him happy. In doing so, it led to her own. A joy he greatly needed, for it would be his needed balance. A loss of a love equalized by a loss of a thing he no longer did. At least, helped partially. It should be celebrated; battles called for medals. She knew of those modern, human customs. Of old friends who showed her tokens with their eyes dark but smiles bright. Smiles that sometimes pushed away the dark.

Eilidh’s hands were not skilled in metals, but they knew textiles. Small but firm, her creation was nestled in her palm. She approached him with an eager grin. “Bah. Should be warning those we run into of such.” Her lips gained an extra curl. “Ear protection.” She paused for a chuckle, letting the joke simmer. Then pushed aside the teasing with a wave of her hand. Allowed for the wanted topic to slip in the gap — become the focus. “But first.” The creation switched hands. Slipped into his palm with ease, since it was made for him. A knitted token of golden yarn, with a number made of sparkling thread. Twinkling like a precious gem. “For you. For ye efforts.”

Milo laughed, enjoying the way Eilidh always looked at him. He could see the love in her eyes, alongside the genuine care for his wellbeing. He knew she didn’t need to support him in his endeavour to get clean. She was probably missing the way they used to bond over substances. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was too. It was impossible when the nights they spent together used to bring him so much joy, used to feel so freeing, and cathartic. Yet she had been supportive, and sincere. Staying by his side without voicing an opinion on the matter, which meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. He had come to appreciate her steadfast presence, the knowledge that, even when she didn’t necessarily understand his decisions, she would try to acknowledge them. This acceptance meant he didn’t expect her to raise the subject. Certainly not in a way that might encourage his sobriety. So when she held out a small knitted token, it took him a moment too long to realise what the purpose of it was. “For my efforts?” He echoed, delicately turning it over in his palm. The number 2 had been embroidered with a thread that caught the light, and as he watched it shine, the significance of it became apparent to him. Two weeks of sobriety, and he had his very first token. A token he had never thought he would have the privilege to earn. It wasn’t as though an NA group would be beneficial to him when he couldn’t be open, and honest about his trauma. Not for the first time, he wondered what a supernatural support group would look like. Staring down at it, running his thumb over the embroidery as he contemplated both how far he had come, and how far he still had to go, he swallowed his emotion in an attempt to collect himself. “Did- did you make this?” He looked back up, blinking tears away before they were able to fall. “You made this for me?”

Eilidh watched him with growing anticipation. A growth in tandem with his realization to the cause of her gift. Her smile joined the cultivation of the moment, soon threatening to split her face in two. It was so funny, how something so small could inspire such blooms. Kin to the acorn, warm in color and potential. In time, only more would grow from it. Even in her doubts, her worries she had seen realized in others, his face told her so. The oak would grow. At least for a moment, but a moment is all anyone got. A hum whistled passed her smiling teeth at his inquiry. A smile that wavered, but not with it her delight, as his tears almost flowed. Those floodgates did not open, but something else did in her heart. “Nah. Want ye to give it to Metzli.” There was a chuckle to her voice that rang out into nothing, taking with it the remainder of her grin. Her lips pressed into that of thought. “Seen those wee things ‘fore. Figured is the time ye oughta start getting ‘em, hm?” Those like them were barred from many aspects of society. Human society. Things she could do well without — had always done well without. But she knew the young ones struggled with the transition between worlds, trying to balance on that delicate tightrope. Before he finally made that plunge, she hoped, at least, this could offer some reprieve. And perhaps even more so in her arms, as she wrapped him into a hug.

Milo laughed at the joke, the sound coming easily to him. After losing Silas, laughter didn’t feel right, but he was beginning to allow himself brief moments of contentment. He might actually go insane without them. Certainly the journey he was taking would be made impossible. “No way- not happening.” He teased right back, clutching the token to his chest. He already felt protective of it, proud of everything it stood for. “Metzli didn’t put in the work.” That wasn’t technically true, his mind conjured images of Metzli shivering on their old sofa. Suffering the aftermath of sharing in his addiction. He hadn’t realised at the time just how powerful his desires were. It scared him to truly consider. But for the sake of keeping the conversation light, he sidestepped correcting his statement. “I, uh… I kind of secretly wanted one.” He admitted, knowing if he was still human, blood would be rushing to his face. It made him feel childish, and somewhat exposed, but if he could be honest with anybody, he could be honest with Eilidh. Especially now, while she was inviting him to confide in her. “I just don’t think those groups are the right place for a vampire, you know… not that I was excited about telling a bunch of strangers my secrets.” His smile growing, Eilidh pulled him into a hug before he was able to initiate the contact, and he melted into it, letting his cheek rest heavily against her shoulder. “I don’t need them anyway.” He added, his voice muffled, but undeniably dripping with love. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, the token safe in the palm of his hand. “I have you…”

[virgil-achyls]

So Let Me Dwell Eternal || Milo & Virgil

Timing: Shortly after Virgil’s visit home

Location: Milo and Metzli’s aparement

Summary: Not Virgil visits Milo to show him that he’s back in one piece, and the god makes a demand. Milo fights back. 

With: @wickedmilo and @virgil-achyls

Warnings: addiction, alcoholism, violence (Nirgil gets stabbed but there’s no blood), cosmic horror, body horror

“Milo.” Virgil laid his palm on the window in Milo’s bedroom, and it shattered from the god’s desire to get inside. Shards bit as his palm, but he felt no pain. 

He climbed inside, mindful of the enormous antlers, longer than his armspan and glowing a divine white. Magic dripped from his skin, sizzling as it met the carpet. The ritual marks over his eyelids were the one injury the god would not heal, wishing to keep them as they were. There was a faint golden light where the god’s skin was visible through the marks. 

Milo hurts badly. I wish for it to worship before we consume it. 

“It will worship,” Virgil promised, then turned his attention back to Milo’s apartment. It wasn’t in this room, but he could find it easily. Inky, unnatural darkness settled throughout the apartment. Yet, where the shadows usually wrapped around Virgil, or followed at his feet, they avoided him now. The light he was giving off kept them from touching him. Let them keep their distance. The god did not deserve to be stuck in the dark.  

“Milo,” Virgil called, stepping further into its bedroom. Glass crunched under his bare feet, and once more, Hekakleidi protected him from the pain. “I’m back!” 

He paused, listening. The eyes of the god swung to and fro atop his antlers, searching. “Where are you hiding, Milo? Virgil came home to you. Don’t you want to come see me? I want to see you. Come and see what your sainted Virgil has brought you.” 

It sounded like two voices were speaking at the same time, one booming and feminine and the other low and masculine; his normal voice, but better utilized. He did not bother to be quiet. He wanted the vampire to find him and worship. He bared his new teeth in anticipation, grinning. Hekakleidi whispered in his ears, too faint for him to make out, but she sounded excited. He was excited too. 

For all the times he complained about vampiric sleep not being as comforting, or as relaxing as human sleep, Milo had taken to spending his days, and his nights curled up in bed. It was easier to avoid his issues that way, easier to forget the conversation he had shared with Silas, the fact that Teagan was dead, and his sire had caused him to question the very foundations of the life he had built for himself. There were remnants of his habits littering the room. Empty beer cans, and cigarette cartons were haphazardly piled on every available surface. Metzli would probably ask him to clean up soon, but at least temporarily, they seemed to be giving him a pass. It made sense after everything he had been through. The vices worked for a while, but the nothingness that came with rest was what he had started to truly crave. The empty, dark void that allowed time to pass him by, that allowed him to escape everything he was, and everything he had ever been. He hadn’t moved in days, only making the occasional trip to the bathroom, or the kitchen, and he was content to stay under his comforter for another week. Maybe two. Maybe even three. It was tempting, he couldn’t deny it. And with his mind so blissfully clear he couldn’t see any reason not to indulge. But as always, White Crest had other ideas. On a brief trip to heat some blood from the fridge, his quiet numbness was interrupted by the sharp, unexpected sound of shattering glass. 

He jumped, letting the fridge door fall shut as he spun to search for what had caused the disruption, but the apartment looked as it always did. Nothing, aside from his clutter, could be considered out of place. It was only when he heard a voice that he realised he wasn’t alone. The window hadn’t broken in some freak accident, it had been broken intentionally. With the sole purpose of allowing someone through it. Whoever… or whatever had broken into his home was in his bedroom, their location became apparent as he inched closer to the hall, listening for footsteps, inhaling deeply in the hope of catching a familiar scent. And he did, but something about it was different. Something about it no longer felt like his friend. Swallowing his building concern, he stopped short, watching his bedroom door with horror, and a morbid sense of curiosity. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. The sun was shining, hot and bright, due to set within the hour.  He was essentially trapped behind UV filter glass. “Virgil?” His voice was quiet, his nerves obvious in the way that it shook. Not only had there been a shift in Virgil’s scent, his voice was layered now, equal parts feminine and masculine in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable. The Virgil he knew wouldn’t break his window, he would turn into smoke, or find it in him to knock on the door. The Virgil he knew certainly didn’t refer to himself in third person. “I-” He broke off, listening for movement, but Virgil remained still. Hidden behind a thin sheet of wood. He almost wanted him to stay that way. He couldn’t repress the growing surety that something was terribly wrong. “You don’t sound like Virgil…” He said finally, cursing himself for not thinking of something that had more authority. Something that might give him an edge, or earn him a degree of respect. As always he was pitiful, as always he didn’t know how to carry himself in the face of potential danger. “Come out- if you’re really Virgil… did you- did you break my bedroom window?”

“Of course it’s Virgil. Who else would it be?” Virgil asked from behind the door, the cutting smile audible. He listened as Milo’s footsteps crept closer and closer, thrilled by the hesitation which was obvious within them. His vampire was afraid, and Hekakleidi was thrilled by the prospect of a hunt. 

Virgil waited until the footsteps halted in front of the door. Milo had stopped in place. With another twist of that oily magic, Hekakleidi wrenched the door open, forcing it off its hinges and off to the side, so that no kind of barrier could exist between them. 

There was his Milo, after so long. Blonde hair, looking ruffled, as if dragged from sleep. Virgil supposed it was time for it to sleep; it was the daytime, after all. 

That extra sense the god granted him, the one that let him sense pain which needed numbing, was telling him that Milo was in a lot of pain. Virgil reached out towards Milo, intent on holding it still so the god could creep into its mind and replace everything broken with love. But Hekakleidi stopped him. 

“I wish for this one to be a sacrifice.” The god’s voice buzzed out of him. 

For a moment, the order felt so alien that it startled him out of the haze of joy. Hekakleidi wanted Milo dead? As a sacrifice? No, that couldn’t be right. Virgil was meant to protect Milo, and therefore had thought that Milo might join him in his new life with the god consuming his pain. But Hekakleidi didn’t care about that. She wanted it dead. 

Virgil met Milo’s eyes, sorrowful. 

Hekakleidi was still laughing with his mouth. “Come here, Milo. Let me see you up close.” 

“I- I don’t know.” Milo admitted. He could smell Virgil, hear the undertones of Virgil’s voice, but that didn’t make him any more certain that his friend was standing behind his bedroom door. “Virgil wouldn’t break my window.” He stated, doing what he could to feign confidence. If he wasn’t confident in himself, he could at least be confident in that. “He doesn’t even knock…” His hands closing into fists as though they offered him any protection against the potential threat, maybe he should have been prepared for what came next. After the sound of breaking glass, he should have realised Virgil… or whatever was in the apartment, had no qualms about using violence to gain entry. Any possibility of the damage being a mistake disappeared as his bedroom door was thrown from its hinges. He let out a shout of surprise, throwing himself out of the way to narrowly avoid its path. It slammed into the wall behind him, causing wood to splinter and litter the floor. Hurrying to right himself, he stared up at his doorway, terror rooting him to the spot. He was getting better at not panicking when he was in danger, at analysing a situation, and forcing himself to move. But there was no play here. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. 

The thing standing in the body of his friend looked so… wrong. He watched Virgil’s face, the face he had come to know so well, and his stomach lurched. His antlers were protruding from his head, resembling hands in a way that didn’t come naturally. In a way that made him deeply, deeply uncomfortable. Something slick, and heavy, seemed to be dripping from his form, sizzling as it hit the hardwood flooring, but he couldn’t recognise it. He had never seen anything like it before. Beginning to back away, he knew from experience that it was dangerous to look at Virgil’s eyes, and he made an effort to avoid his gaze in spite of the sunglasses blocking them from view. If he didn’t make eye contact then at least one threat had been neutralised. Eilidh would probably be proud of him for observing that. And it would be easier than to ignore how upset Virgil looked. As quickly as he praised himself for his instincts, he was distracted by the voice. The strange voice that seemed to echo in his ears as it threatened him. It felt feminine, and masculine, and overwhelmingly ominous, even after its malicious laughter had ceased. “A- a sacrifice?” He breathed, his voice barely louder than a whisper. This was definitely not Virgil. Regardless of it trying to convince him otherwise. It just couldn’t be. “No…” His eyes widened, and he continued to back away, desperately trying to remember where in the apartment Metzli had hidden their weapons. “No- whatever you are, you’re not welcome here- you’re not my friend-” 

Hekakleidi only laughed harder at the pleas spilling from Milo’s mouth. She drank in the beautiful display of terror mixed with dread, the way it flinched at every word, and the way its eyes searched Virgil’s face, as if searching for anything that might be left. 

I’m here, Virgil tried to say, but found that he couldn’t quite reach the part of himself that knew how to speak. He didn’t want this. He wanted for Milo’s pain to be taken away. Like him, Milo had gone through hardship despite its youth. It’d died, suffered from alienation and lack of effort from its parents, and felt the need to turn to drugs and alcohol to numb itself. Virgil could sense a deep well within. The god was hungry for it. Virgil had thought the god would do what it’d done with Solomon, and consume the pain without a fight. 

Why did she want Milo dead? It wasn’t his place to question the god, but Milo should not be killed. It wasn’t right for a sacrifice. Hekakleidi wanted human blood in exchange for prayer marks. And more than that, Milo was his friend. His first friend outside the Mirror. He was supposed to look out for it, not let a god kill it again just because it meant something to Virgil.  

She must not kill Milo. 

“Your friend is gone now. He has become my Saint. You should not mourn for him; this is an honorable fate.” Hekakleidi stepped into the hallway, the set of eyes on her antlers fixed on Milo, appraising it. “You would do well to submit. If you worship me, I can make your death painless.” 

There was nothing in the god now except predatory hunger, and the compulsive need to make Milo suffer so he’d taste sweeter. The body stalked forward, light on its feet now that it wasn’t plagued by unsteadiness. One foot went in front of the other. The antlers began to crack and twitch in anticipation, clawing hungrily at the air. 

Virgil could not look away from Milo. The god lowered Virgil’s head and charged, laughing as she did. 

It took Milo a moment too long to fully register what was being said. After hearing his friend was gone, his world fell temporarily silent. His fear left him to be replaced by a sudden rush of grief. Maybe he didn’t understand how, but if it was true, then he could add Virgil to the ever growing list of people he had lost. People who died far too young, in ways that weren’t natural. In ways that were probably painful, and terrifying. Much like his own death had been for him. “No…” He breathed, willing himself to reject the sentiment. If he didn’t believe it, then it wouldn’t feel true. He could ignore his loss for a little while long, at least long enough to escape this attack. “Virgil didn’t want to be gone.” He countered, his voice surprising him in its strength. He felt the need to defend him, to do something, anything in his name. “So if he is… I’m going to mourn him. You won’t be able to stop me.” Taking a shallow breath, he did what he could to prepare himself for the consequence of his defiance. But it didn’t come when he was expecting it to. Instead he was asked to submit. 

A bitter sound escaping him, he made his incredulity clear. How could anything, even a god, expect somebody to submit, and worship when they were being told they were going to die? When they were being told one of their close friends already had? As easy as it would be to give in, to let this being kill him and take away everything in his life that was making him regret ever being born, there was good among the bad. He had friends, and family, people who would feel the same way about him as he did about Virgil. Who would feel the same devastation at the news of his passing. And he couldn’t do that to them, he couldn’t do that to himself. Not after how far he had come. “I don’t want to die… not again.” He admitted, shaking his head as he continued to back away. And then the consequence made itself known, delayed, and terrifying. He watched in horror as Virgil’s antlers sparked with something powerful, shifting, and cracking in a way so horrific, he couldn’t avert his gaze. It was too grotesque, too distracting. It meant when the god finally charged at him, he wasn’t as prepared as he should have been. He tumbled to the ground, splinters of wood piercing his palm as he scrambled on all fours to get away. 

Crawling to the living room, the coffee table caught his eye, and he immediately recognised the stash of weapons that were fastened beneath it. The hiding place returning to his memory, Metzli listing the available weapons should anything happen while they were out. He threw himself towards it, feeling frantically for a knife. He felt a sharp burn in his hand that alerted him to the location of their crosses, the stakes were beside them. So simple, yet so deadly. And then he found it, a small silver dagger. He wasn’t sure what effectiveness it would have against Virgil’s new form, but it felt like the most obvious choice. Hurrying to get to his feet, he brandished it at the creature with a shaking hand. Weapons felt so wrong to hold, he hated violence, even when it was necessary. “Don’t come any closer to me- I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you, and you don’t want to hurt me. I’m worthless, there’s nothing special about me. I wouldn’t mean anything as a sacrifice- you should just- you should leave. Just leave…” 

Hekakleidi followed the vampire’s retreat at a reasonable walking pace, letting him know that she was an inevitability. No matter where he ran, she would be behind him. She was admittedly enjoying the chase. It took some self restraint not to bolt after Milo and bite him in half right then and there. But she managed.

“You are worthless, and ugly.” She agreed, voice bellowing through the hallway. “But to die for me would make you beautiful.” 

The vampire took a trembling stand, a knife in his hand. His determination would’ve been endearing if not for the fact that he’d obviously never been in a fight like this. At least Emilio had known what he was doing when he fought back. The god had enjoyed the fight with him. It was almost insulting that this child was challenging her like this. 

“Could you harm your friend, I wonder?” Hekakleidi asked, and pushed Virgil’s body closer. She kept coming until they were well within striking range, mouth open, antlers twisting together in hungry anticipation. The chest of her saint was pressed to the tip of the knife, arms spread out wide, portraying a false helplessness. 

Leave Milo alone. Grief gave way to something like rage. For the first time, Virgil was angry at the god. His Milo didn’t deserve to be put into this situation. Still, he met Milo’s eyes with his own. He couldn’t talk, or move, but perhaps he could hold the body still. Lock it in place. He braced. Aim for my heart so I don’t have to watch how this ends. 

Milo didn’t like the way Virgil padded across the apartment, following him at a pace that told him he was in the presence of a predator. This thing was actively stalking him now, finding amusement in his attempt to get away from it. “I didn’t say anything about ugly…” He muttered, the words escaping him before he could be reminded of his situation. He definitely shouldn’t be antagonising whatever was inside his friend, not if there was any chance of helping Virgil. Glancing around the room, desperate for something more formidable than a knife, he noticed the shadows had grown longer, and not in an unnatural way. Daylight was fading, which meant he only needed to distract Virgil until it was safe for him to leave. By his estimation he had ten minutes to wait. Five if he could find somewhere outside to take shelter from the lingering rays. “I don’t care about being beautiful.” He countered, forced to come to a halt by the sofa pressing against the back of his legs. “Why-” He broke off, thinking of how he might be able to keep Virgil talking. “Why do you want to make me beautiful?” He tried desperately to appeal to Virgil’s ego. Clearly he had one… clearly it had one. 

His eyes widening as Virgil continued to approach him, he swallowed, the point of the knife pushing up against the sternum of his friend. He wasn’t sure whether Virgil’s regular body would be affected if his glamour came to harm, but he didn’t want to find out. Not in this way, at least. The answer was no, he couldn’t hurt him. Not in the way he was being asked, not in the way Virgil was encouraging him to. There was something so terrifying about his face. His mouth was slack, the marks against his eyelids were gruesome up close. Everything about his aura felt threatening, and twisted. Virgil made mistakes, he did things most humans, and no doubt many supernaturals, would find abhorrent. But he had seen his gentle demeanour, witnessed his kind heart, and passion for life, and it hurt to see all of that stripped away. Replaced by a cold cruelty so unlike his usual warmth. Forcing his hand to remain steady, scared to pierce Virgil’s flesh with the blade, he shook his head. He knew he could be dead within seconds if this thing grew bored, it was inches away from him, ready to strike. He had to keep trying, he only had one chance to get this right. “Why do you want me to hurt Virgil?” He asked. “Isn’t he- is he important to you?” 

Virgil only had the briefest moment to despair before Hekakleidi was back in control of the body. She shrugged off the seconds-long lockup  

Behave, she snapped, forcing him away from consciousness once more. Virgil could only watch dully from far away as the god hunted his Milo like it was an animal. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to make you beautiful? You are in pain, and I am hungry.” The god peered down at Milo through the eyes on her antlers, pushing Virgil’s mouth into a half deranged expression of concern. “So much pain you cannot face, so you try to drown it out. I can make it stop. I am better than that chemical high you’re always chasing.” 

As she spoke, she stepped into the knife, letting Virgil’s shadowy skin press into the tip. The Saint’s body was holding together poorly with her inside, getting less and less solid by the day. The blade of the knife pressed through his shadowy chest as if it wasn’t there, and instead clinked against her metallic skin. 

“I only seek to sweeten your pain a little. Entice myself before I strike. So tell me, are you going to strike? Drive me out of your friend? Or are you going to sit there and keep your hands clean while Virgil cooks in my divinity?” The unspoken as if you could hurt me was evident in the god’s voice. 

Keeping Milo’s eyes focused on the blade, and the words she was throwing at him, she silently unwound her antlers. The bony hands stretched silently over Milo’s head, elongating, the sharp fingers descending over his skull. If he noticed, he might still run. Otherwise, he was going to become devoted. Time was nearly up for the Saint’s friend. 

Milo cringed as Virgil’s strange antlers loomed over him, longing to be as far away from them as possible. The answer to his question wasn’t what he had been expecting, it was too vague for him to build on, and if anything, it only made the situation more confusing. But he did what he could to continue. “You eat… pain?” He asked, hoping to buy himself a little more time, along with an explanation he might actually understand. He was caught off guard, though, by the mention of his substance abuse. He glared at the monster, feeling a sudden flash of irritation. He was at least used to receiving comments from his friends, and his family. But he had been entirely unprepared to feel judged in a way that hurt him, in a way that cut through the walls protecting him from the creature’s words. “You don’t know what you’re talking about-” He snapped, cutting himself off before he could say something that might break the quiet tension. Virgil could lunge at any moment, he didn’t want to be responsible for triggering that kind of shift. “I-” Swallowing, he wasn’t given the opportunity to rectify his attitude. He watched in shock as Virgil stepped closer to him, the knife sliding through his form as though it was made entirely of smoke. It couldn’t be, or his window, and his bedroom door would still be intact. But it made him wonder whether the knife was going to be of any use. 

All thoughts of fighting him left his mind at the mention of driving the monster away. A spark of hope ignited unexpectedly, not for his own safety, but for Virgil’s. Hearing the creature admit there was a way to drive it out of the body of his friend only made him more determined to survive. Virgil would protect him, perhaps in questionable ways, but the sentiment remained strong, and sincere. He owed Virgil the same protection. The same level of care, and concern. “I… can do that? Virgil isn’t gone?” Without looking up, he became aware of the antlers above him extending, warping in a way that would give him nightmares if he was capable of having them. He deliberately feigned obliviousness, still trying to plan his best chance of escape. The sun was almost gone, he was confident he would survive the last few minutes of light if he managed to make it outside. “Virgil-” He started, intentionally looking into Virgil’s glasses, ignoring the many eyes of the god. “If you can hear me, I don’t want to hurt you.” Reaching down, utilising his unnatural reflexes, he jammed the knife into Virgil’s thigh, hoping the lack of warning would mean it was solid. The knife made impact, burying deep into the glamour, or Virgil’s body, or the body of whatever was controlling him. He didn’t know which, or how much damage had been sustained, but he didn’t have time to find out. 

He immediately let go of the weapon, knowing speed was quite possibly his only advantage, and shoved the creature to force it away from him. It flew backwards across the living room, but he didn’t watch to see where it landed. He had seen Metzli jump from the balcony before, he understood he had no hope of mimicking their perfect landing, especially not while he was seven stories high. If he was going to jump, he was going to sustain injuries, but the injuries would be far less severe than any he might sustain if he stayed inside the apartment. He could be sure of that, at least. Taking one last look at the creature, at his friend who wasn’t his friend, he bolted to the balcony door, opening it in one smooth motion, so that he could climb over the modern railing. He didn’t jump, didn’t propel himself forward. Instead he unceremoniously let go of his perch.

He hoped by doing so, the balconies below him might break his fall. But the descent was fast, far too fast for him to feel any semblance of control, and though he did catch the edge of the first floor balcony, the pain that shot through him at the impact was a distraction rather than an aid. It slowed his momentum enough for him to roll when he hit the ground, and he did what he could to remember how Eilidh had taught him to land, but he still hit it hard enough for his vision to falter. He definitely hadn’t nailed his landing, and his instinct was to take some time, to lay on his back and assess the damage he might have done to his body. But there was no time. The sun was still in the process of setting, and there was something in his apartment that wanted to kill him, or eat him, or take over his body. 

Scrambling to his feet, hissing at the pain that radiated from every bone, and muscle, he began to move again. His progress wasn’t as urgent as he would like, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed by his show of endurance. For the first time in his life, he had faced danger, and saved himself. For the first time he had been able to recall Eilidh’s training, and apply it to a dangerous situation. He needed to get to town, somewhere public, somewhere Metzli would be willing to comfort him. Pulling his phone from his pocket, now even more battered, and broken, he called his roommate with shaking hands. “Metzli… don’t be mad… but I think I broke your apartment…” 

[fermataheart]

JUST FOR A SECOND | silas & milo

TIMING: recent. LOCATION: emilio’s apartment. PARTIES: @fermataheart & @wickedmilo SUMMARY: milo comes over to talk to silas about his sire. CONTENT WARNINGS: suicidal ideation, addiction.

Milo felt guilty for visiting Emilio’s apartment without asking for permission first. The slayer had every right to know who was stepping foot inside his home, but the decision had been spontaneous, born of his increasingly unstable emotional state, and desperate desire to be with somebody who understood every part of him. Metzli, and Eilidh’s unwavering support had kept him strong, and sure in the face of his sire, but even they couldn’t prepare him for the aftermath, for the damage caused by Julien’s words. Elements of his being had been dragged unwillingly to the light, analysed under the lense of somebody who had been where he was. Who, hundreds of years ago, had considered his addiction harmless… Julien’s honesty made him uncomfortable. His world had been shattered in a matter of minutes, the illusion he used to lean back on no longer convinced him, and that hurt. That was terrifying. Under any other circumstance he would appreciate the irony. The only person in his life who loved him without ever questioning his drug abuse, was now the one person that he wanted to question it. He couldn’t go to the friends who worried, he couldn’t stand the thought of looking them in the eye and admitting they may have been right. The amount of apologies he could potentially owe was as overwhelming as the realisation itself, and he wasn’t ready to face that. Not now, not after everything he had been through. 

 So he stood awkwardly, staring at the door as though it was a simple case of forcing down his fear. Every creative, and unexpected way Silas had ever caused him pain was fresh in his mind, convincing him this was a terrible, counterproductive idea. He should go to literally anybody else, but despite the pain, despite the lingering sense of betrayal, nobody made him feel safe like Silas did. He would be stupid not to acknowledge that. Nobody else could talk to him about his habits without concern, or judgement, or frustration. He didn’t have a choice, and yet he couldn’t find the courage to move. Swallowing down the anxiety that was building steadily inside his chest, he took a moment to compose himself, to walk through the many reasons he needed to have this particular conversation. Instead of knocking, he called out, his voice soft, cracking under the weight of his boyfriend’s name. “Silas?” It felt so alien in his mouth, unfamiliar in a way that was utterly heartbreaking. Another unwelcome reminder of how much distance had grown between them, how much there was still was for the both of them to resolve. “Are you home? I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here, I just- I need to see you, I don’t have anyone else…”

  —

The new front door had been fitted into its fixed frame, and for a moment, things felt normal again. Or as normal as they could when he was living in someone else’s home, still being carefully monitored by a man who had an increasing number of ‘things’ to attend to, thanks to a certain fae and her demonic boyfriend. 

 Yeah, it was pretty fucked after all.

 Still, the night was quiet—Emilio was out doing who-knows-what (he wouldn’t allow Silas to join him) and the zombie was passing the time trying to write some more lyrics. They weren’t really coming along, though, and as his gaze turned to the night sky through the front room’s window, he heard footsteps coming down the hall. Getting to his feet, assuming it was Emilio returning from whatever awful errand he’d been forced to run, Silas dropped his notebook to the couch and moved for the front door.

 The voice that met him from the opposite side made him stop dead in his tracks, breath hitching in his throat. It was a voice that he’d never thought he’d hear again. A voice that he’d wanted desperately to hear for the last week, at least… and yet it still had him frozen like a deer in headlights.

 He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what was being said. “... Milo?” Of course it was Milo, he knew it was Milo, but the question tumbled forth anyway—just an attempt to fill the silence. Closing the distance to the door, Silas unlatched the deadbolt and pulled it open slowly, his eyes immediately stinging at the sight of the vampire. Words failed him, lips parting to speak before falling shut again, his dark gaze dropping to the floor. 

 An awkward silence passed between them before Silas managed to swallow his pain and speak around the lump in his throat, stammering out a soft, “C-come in,” as he pulled the door open farther and stepped out of the way. “What… what d’you mean y’don’t have anyone else…?”

—  

“I- who else would it be?” Milo asked, caught off guard by the echo of his name. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realise the question was rhetorical, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything to hear Silas say his name again. And then the door was being opened to reveal his boyfriend, looking exactly as he remembered. As though nothing had changed, as though they were still the same two people when that couldn’t be further from the truth. He was close enough to touch, close enough to kiss, and he was struck by the sudden urge to close the distance between them. If he captured Silas’ lips with his own, he might be able to coax him to the sofa, or the bed, and they could use each other to avoid their issues. But Silas’ gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, and he began to realise the affection may not be welcomed. It was difficult to know he could no longer reach out without second guessing himself, for a while it had come so naturally. But he pressed on, trying to focus on the reason for his visit as he watched Silas, waiting for him to speak. Part of him was beginning to worry the zombie was going to ask him to leave. Until now, he hadn’t considered that a genuine possibility. He knew he would be crushed. There wouldn’t be any coming back from a rejection like that. He pointedly ignored the way his anxiety spiked, as though maybe he could will Silas to be kind, to invite him in, and offer him comfort. And then, to his relief, Silas spoke, stepping away from the door. 

 He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, his shoulders dropping with the force of it. Hurrying to cross the threshold, he was careful not to touch Silas, shrinking in on himself the moment he was inside the apartment. Hovering sheepishly, unsure how to answer the question, it was far more complicated than he cared to admit. He did technically have a lot of people he could talk to, but they were biased. He already knew what they had to say about his substance abuse because they had told him, or at the very least alluded to their opinions. Silas was different, Silas had always been different. His boyfriend was fair, he understood. He never once judged him, and most importantly, his mind wasn’t clouded by worry or fear. Not in the context of his recreational use. “You don’t look at me the way other people do.” He said finally, wishing Silas would make eye contact. “I, uh… I spoke to somebody recently.” He admitted, the thought of his sire causing his throat to close over. He swallowed the discomfort, a frown creasing his brow. “They scared me… but I can’t admit that without also admitting everyone has been right about me this entire time. And I don’t want to do that, Silas… I can’t do that, not without being sure…” Pushing his glasses further up his nose, he shifted, blinking away tears before they could form. “Look at me, Silas…” He prompted, his body was aching with longing. A desperate desire for things to be how they were. “Please?” 

—

He couldn’t bring himself to look up at Milo as he explained, as he talked about what had brought him here. It hurt too fucking much. The room felt small, like the walls were closing in. Anxiety crept up his spine and held him fast where he stood, eyes fixed on the floor between their feet. The door clicked shut quietly to his right and he thought for a moment that he should re-latch the deadbolt, but he couldn’t even muster the courage to lean to the side and reach for it. He was frozen, a deer in headlights… until Milo said his name again.

 Look at me.

 Slowly, the zombie lifted his head to look at his boyfriend—well, someone who had been that. Surely he didn’t still want that. It took everything he had not to look away again, his expression nothing short of emotionally agonized, brows knitting in the middle and lips downturned into a pout that barely held the rest of it back. 

 “I don’t…” He sucked in a needless breath, giving up and jumping his gaze toward the ceiling. “What… what’s everyone been right about, Milo?” His ringed fingers reached up to clasp at his own neck, threading around the backside of it as his eyes fell closed again. Stop being such a pansy, he chastised himself. The least you can do is look him in the eye. With a grimace, Silas dragged his chin back down, forcing himself to meet the vampire’s gaze. 

—

Milo couldn’t help but feel hurt by the pained expression Silas wore. Apparently his boyfriend found it difficult to hold his gaze. He wasn’t sure who that was a reflection on. Silas hadn’t broken up with him, but maybe a break up should have been assumed. It was becoming increasingly obvious he wasn’t welcome, that the zombie couldn’t bear to spend time with him. Maybe he had raised his standards, come to realise he could do a lot better than a freeloading vampire. Jeez, if that really was the case the conversation he was hoping to have was only going to prove him right. “No, you don’t.” He agreed, his voice quiet, barely louder than a whisper. He wanted to pretend he was unaffected but couldn’t find the strength. His frown deepening as Silas looked away again, he only felt his misery intensify. Before he could fully process the way he closed his eyes, and tilted his head towards the ceiling, he was being prompted to continue. Being asked about the subject he was attempting to both discuss, and actively avoid. 

 “I don’t know…” He groaned in frustration, wishing it was as easy as saying what was on his mind. But his thoughts were still spiralling out of control, still something he needed to sit and untangle before being able to examine. “Part of me thinks ‘fuck everybody for trying to make me doubt myself’ but part of me thinks if this thing wasn’t true then I wouldn’t even be questioning it. Not now- not ever- you know? Like, the fact that I’m even thinking about it means it’s probably right- means they’re probably right, and I don’t know what to do with that information. I don’t know what to do…” Watching as Silas lowered his head again, meeting his eye with less resistance, he felt a familiar ache in his chest. He really, really wanted a hug. How could he continue with an invisible wall stranding strong between the two of them, keeping them from being able to comfort each other? It wasn’t right. “Can we just- can we pretend nothing has happened with us? Just for a second?” It sounded pathetic, even to his own ears, but he didn’t know how else they were supposed to get through. “Do you think we can just… go back to how things used to be?”  

—

Context was crucial, and Silas had enough of it to figure out what Milo was getting at. He didn’t know what had happened to bring this about, but he could figure what the source of conflict was. Something had forced Milo to come to terms with his addictions, or at least consider them for the first time without becoming defensive. It didn’t mean that Silas agreed with it—he still didn’t really see the issue, after all. Maybe if they were still human, if the shit they did could still cause permanent damage… maybe it’d be different. But it couldn’t, so it didn’t matter. Not to him, anyway. 

 As if his opinion on the matter was the biggest elephant in the room, anyway. 

 Milo pretty quickly brought up the other issue, the one that’d kept them apart all this time. Milo had said Silas would never see him again, yet here he was. Asking for… for something Silas wasn’t sure he could provide.

 “I don’t know,” the zombie offered honestly, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. “I… I’m afraid to. I want to, but I…” He shifted his weight anxiously from one leg to the other, hating the way his whole body seemed to ache. Deciding that the subject of their relationship was too much to bear, he tried to switch gears back to what had brought Milo here in the first place. 

 “Milo, whatever happened to you t’make you think you’ve been wrong about yourself this whole time… I guess the only advice I can offer is to think about what matters t’you most. Bein’ right, or bein’ the kind of person your friends want you to be, whatever that looks like. You gotta… consider where they’re comin’ from, why they feel what they feel. Does it matter to you?” Glancing down again, Silas raised a hand to his face, pressing his fingertips to his temple for a moment before running them through his hair to brush it to the side. “If it does, I guess you got some thinkin’ to do.”

—

I don’t know. Milo immediately resented Silas for being honest with him, despite the fact that he had initially asked for honesty. It wasn’t fair the person he loved felt so distant, and it certainly wasn’t fair he was still able to cause so much pain. He was forced to remind himself of why he was visiting, why he was putting himself through the agony of talking to his boyfriend. “If you wanted to, you would.” He said finally, an edge to his voice that he hadn’t intended to be there. But he knew he was right. Silas wanted to believe it was complicated, but it wasn’t. In fact, the decisions he was being asked to make were perhaps the least complicated decisions he would ever face. He loved him, or he didn’t. He wanted to be with him, or he didn’t. Setting his jaw as Silas pressed on, it was clear he had deciphered the code, stripped back his words until their meaning was exposed. He didn’t like the way that made him feel. Silas knew him so well, and maybe he didn’t deserve to. “You think I have to choose between being right about myself, or becoming the person people think I should be?” He echoed, his heart sinking at the prospect. It was difficult enough to accept the fact that he might genuinely have a reliance on substances. But to think the two options were at odds with each other made everything feel so much more impossible. “Of course it matters to me.” His voice softened, laced with a vague sense of disbelief. He pretended it didn’t matter, but surely Silas could see through his performance. It hurt when people tried to treat him like he was broken. When they told him he had a problem it made him feel like he was a problem. 

 “You guess I’ve got some thinking to do?” He stared at his boyfriend, letting out a frustrated huff of breath. “That’s really all you have?” It caused a spark of anger to ignite within him. He couldn’t understand why he was refusing to help. If he had thinking to do, it was entirely on him. Silas didn’t need to give an opinion because it was his responsibility to figure it out, his responsibility to reach his own conclusion. But how could he be expected to do that alone? He wasn’t strong enough. And yet Silas wasn’t considering that. “Silas-” He broke off, fighting against himself to let go of his emotion. He needed to stay calm, he needed to address the issue in a way that might genuinely offer him some clarity. “Can we- can we sit down?” He hadn’t intended to ask, but the question escaped him before he could swallow it. Glancing over at the couch, a flash of memory returned to him. Visceral, and real. He could still remember clinging to Silas, holding him close as though he might disappear. He could still remember Silas telling him Sylvain was more important, that he owed Sylvain more, that he was willing to give up everything they had for his vindictive dead brother. The one determined to ruin his life. Without waiting for a response, he moved to take a seat, hurrying to drop down onto the cushions as though it could ground him, keep him feeling sane. Reaching beneath his glasses, he closed his eyes and pressed his fingertips against them, finding comfort in the sudden darkness. “I saw my sire…” He admitted, his voice barely louder than a whisper. After a beat of silence passed he lowered his arms, staring down at the floor. It made sense for him to be here, no matter how vague Silas wanted to be. He needed to believe that. “Macleod found him, and I… I spoke to him.” 

—

Maybe it was as easy as Milo said, but then… he didn’t really have the full picture, did he? Silas still hadn’t told him what happened in New Orleans. What he’d put Emilio through. He wasn’t even sure if the vampire understood that this wasn’t about giving Sylvain control over his body, it wasn’t about running away—not in a literal sense. It was much more permanent than that, and the knowledge of how far he’d been willing to go, how far he had gone… it weighed heavy on his heart. He wasn’t sure he would ever bounce back from it. And if he couldn’t be the same person that Milo had fallen in love with, then how was it right for him to try and fix things? How was it fair?

 But that’s not why he was really here. Milo was upset, that much was obvious. Silas wasn’t giving him much, because he couldn’t get out of his own fucking head. He’d worked so hard to let the young man go, to convince himself that Milo was better off without him and would be happier for it some day… to see him standing here in the living room again was tearing all those walls down and exposing a very damaged, raw heart. 

 He didn’t like it.

 Standing awkwardly as Milo sat down and began to speak, Silas barely noticed the way his discomfort seemed to fade to the background—his sire. So he’d finally had the chance to talk to him, to… figure out what he wanted to do. Silas knew where Macleod stood on the subject, Milo had told him as much—but before disappearing to New Orleans, Milo had also expressed his own uncertainty in the face of the situation.

 Moving slowly over to the couch, Silas sat down beside the vampire. He faltered for a moment before reaching to take the other’s hands in his own, staring at them for a few beats before lifting his chin to meet his boyfriend’s gaze.

 “What happened, Milo?”

—

Milo froze when Silas decided to join him on the couch, unable to believe the sudden proximity. Hesitantly looking up at him, he tried to understand what had changed. Why he was no longer avoiding his eye, or keeping his distance. But before he could his boyfriend was taking his hand, skin cold, soft, and painfully familiar. Swallowing his emotion, a few beats of silence passed before he carefully began to link their fingers, worried he might startle Silas if he moved too quickly. “I-” His voice cracked, and he broke off, entirely overwhelmed. It shouldn’t feel strange, holding the hand of the person he loved, but it did. It was a comfort he thought he would never experience again, and he was only now beginning to realise just how much he had missed it. “I thought he was going to be cruel…” He admitted, whispering as he struggled to hold back his tears. “I mean, I had it worked out in my head that he wanted me to suffer… that he saw something in me he didn’t like, and that’s why he left, that’s why I had to do this on my own…” Thinking back to his conversation with Julien, he wondered vaguely whether Metzli, and Eilidh had let him go. He almost didn’t care. He had taken the time now to accept who Julien was, accept what Julien had done to him, and what he had done in return. The man’s accusations, though, were proving far more difficult to digest. He could still see him standing in the bathroom, his back against the sink as he did what he could to look bored. 

 “You know how with Andreas, and Eloy there’s- there’s so much anger, and it makes sense, and you’re allowed to be angry because they were malicious? Because they were so awful to you, and Metzli and it’s like-” Shaking his head, his glasses began to slip down his nose and he used his free hand to straighten them. “I think I wanted that… It’s just- that anger is what I prepared myself for, and it- it was nothing like that… not really. I want to be angry with him, Silas. I want to, but I can’t. He was an asshole, he was. But in a way that made me feel sorry for him, and I hate that.” Letting out a huff of breath, his grip on Silas tightened, frustration and confusion causing his body to tense. “That isn’t why I’m here though…” He continued, knowing if he stopped now he wouldn’t find the courage again. “I’m here because…” Even after Silas had guessed what he had come to discuss, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. Even when he thought he was ready to, they managed to die in his throat. Something that only made him feel more concerned that Julien could be right. “He told me he was an addict… just said it, like it didn’t matter. And he was so… calm, it was like he had given up. He was being a dick for the sake of being a dick but he didn’t care what happened to him, he didn’t care about me. He didn’t care about anything, and he said… he said I was going to become him. He said things in a way nobody has ever said them before, and I’m… Silas, I’m really fucking scared that he’s right.” 

—

Mm. Milo was right, it probably would have been easier if his sire had done enough to make him furious. Anger was a simpler emotion than most, and while Silas did harbour some toward Andreas, it often felt like a ruse. So he could understand, then, how complicated this was for the vampire. Milo’s fears, once they were finally laid bare, made Silas’ heart hurt. His own fears and reservations over allowing himself to be close with the young man dissipated as compassion snatched up the reins, overwhelming him in a way he hadn’t thought possible, not anymore. Not after everything. 

 His hands let go of Milo’s, but it was only so he could wrap the other up in a tight hug and pull him close, chin resting atop the vampire’s head. Nothing he could say felt quite right, so he just took a moment to hold him, his palm running up and down Milo’s back. “I’m so sorry, Milo,” he finally muttered, speaking down into the other’s hair. “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it easy to hate ‘im… I know how that feels. But he ain’t right, you know?” He gave Milo a gentle squeeze, his voice wavering as he went on. “Only person that can decide your future is you. But… you got such a good heart, baby, that ain’t never gonna be yours.” Drug use or no drug use, Silas simply could not imagine a version of Milo that would ever be cold like that, it would go against everything that the zombie knew about him. Everything that had, ultimately, drawn them together.

—

Milo faltered when Silas pulled away from him, unable to stop hurt from clouding his expression. But as quickly as he was able to process the zombie letting go of his hand, he was being pulled forward into an embrace. One that was gentle, and filled with a level of affection that he hadn’t prepared himself for. A sob escaping him, he hesitated briefly before returning the hug, unable to resist its safety, and metaphorical warmth. His ear pressed up against Silas’ chest, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine a heartbeat. But the thought of a pulse didn’t offer him the comfort he was looking for. It wasn’t normal now for him to hug somebody and listen to their heart. Instead, he realised, he enjoyed the silence, the lack of movement was something that undeniably made Silas who he was. The man he had fallen in love with was dead, and that was okay because so was he. Humanity no longer felt like something to miss, or aspire to. “You don’t have anything t’be sorry for…” He murmured, his voice muffled by his position. It wasn’t necessarily true, but in the context of his current crisis he couldn’t bring himself to be pedantic. Gripping the material of Silas’ shirt, he focused on the way it felt beneath his fingertips.

 “But what if he is?” The darkness made it easier to say what he wanted to say, and he leaned into it, grateful for the bravery it lended him. “That’s it though. I have to decide… I think I have to make that decision-” He felt his heart clench, a tightness in his chest as Silas accidentally confirmed his greatest fear. He had been given a glimpse into his future, and he needed to choose which path he wanted to take. Where he was going to be in a few hundred years. “You didn’t hear what he said, Silas… it made sense.” Taking a deep, uneven breath, he allowed the hand tracing the length of his spine to stifle his tears. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, as much as hearing the use of the pet name filled him with longing, he knew a good heart wasn’t enough to save him. It wasn’t about being good. “I don’t- I don’t think my heart matters. You don’t get it- he spent his whole life using, he built up a tolerance. He said nothing touches him anymore, like, he’s always desperate for a hit- he’d do anything just to get high… even put people like me at risk of dying. He didn’t turn me because he wanted to. He killed me by mistake, and turning me was easier than disposing of my body. He was just so- so sad, Silas. He was a mess.”

—  

“Guess I never really thought about it like that,” Silas admitted softly, considering the details of the situation. With overdosing having become a non-issue (at least where it concerned mundane drugs) it stood to reason that someone who partook too often and too greedily would eventually feel nothing at all. It sounded like hell, chasing something like that that could never exist again.

 With this new context, Milo’s fears suddenly made a lot more sense.

 “That is sad, you’re right.” He continued to rub the other’s back soothingly, gathering his thoughts for a few moments before continuing. “… look. That sounds like a hard life he’s got. N’ the one thing I don’t ever want for you is for your life t’be hard. So if that means you gotta quit, then quit.” Pulling back to look down at Milo, Silas offered him a weary smile. “If you quit, I’ll quit. You don’t gotta go it alone… if you don’t want to.”

 Something had changed. The quiet desperation for escape seemed to have grown still, to the point that Silas temporarily forgot it was there. The person he loved needed support, needed him, maybe… and just like he’d sworn to himself to stick it out and make sure Emilio was going to be okay, he swore he’d do the same for Milo. Maybe that would be enough, maybe his life could just be one promise after the other to take care of people, to be there for them, and maybe that would always be enough. He’d never looked at it from that perspective, but sitting here with his boyfriend crying in his arms, he thought maybe it’d been his answer all along. If he couldn’t silence the sadness, maybe he just needed to focus on feeding the happiness with acts of service. Maybe that was his love language, after all. 

—

Milo hummed quietly, telling Silas he hadn’t thought about it either, not until his sire had shared his own experience. When you lived each day without considering your future, without considering how your daily routine might evolve, the reality was easy enough to avoid. But now, it was staring him in the face, mocking him for ever thinking he could maintain his daily drug abuse. It was a childish fantasy he had intentionally never questioned. Allowing Silas to pull back, glancing up at him through the tears that were marking his glasses, he did nothing to hide his fear. There was no point, Silas had seen him in far more vulnerable states. “I don’t- it isn’t that easy.” How could he put into words the way his body ached at the prospect of getting clean? The way his mind screamed out in horror, and tried to convince him it wasn’t necessary? He opened his mouth again, but struggled to form a coherent sentence. And then his boyfriend’s statement rendered him speechless for an entirely different reason. A new reason… a welcome one. Though he could never ask Silas to give up his recreational use, the sentiment was enough to give him hope. Hope he still cared, hope they were still together, hope there was something in the ruins of their relationship left for them both to salvage, and nurture. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that… it wouldn’t be fair.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He reached out, confident that the zombie wasn’t going to withdraw from his touch, and cupped his face with one hand. Running his thumb along the line of his cheekbone, he took the opportunity to marvel at his beauty. To appreciate him for the first time in too long. 

 “Silas… I don’t think I can.” Was that not his real reason for visiting Emilio’s apartment? To admit his deepest fear, to be honest for the first time in his life? It felt as though layer after layer of what made him Milo was being stripped away, leaving behind who he was underneath; weak, reliant, and ultimately broken. “I always told myself I could stop if I wanted to because I needed to believe it…” He admitted, the realisation dawning as him as he spoke. He hadn’t just been lying to the people who loved him, he had been lying to himself. “The thought of doing it- knowing I might actually have to do it- that scares me more than anything has ever scared me. And, I don’t know… I think about getting clean, and it feels too hard, it feels like I shouldn’t even try.” Swallowing another sob before it could creep into his throat, he lowered his hand, removing his glasses so that the tears on his lenses were no longer hindering his vision. With his sharp edges blurred, Silas looked even more ethereal. As though he had been painted by an artist who saw the world as something arguably more romantic than it was. “No matter what happens, I have to tell people they were right. I have to humiliate myself by taking everything back, and give up any kind of pride I ever had… how am I supposed to do that?” He begged for an answer, for a spontaneous solution to his problem. “How am I supposed to look people in the eye, and tell them I have a problem? I feel so stupid.” He blinked away fresh tears, letting them run down his face without halting their progress this time. Taking a deep breath, he ignored his lack of composure, forcing himself to say what he had come to say, letting the crushing weight of the words wash over him. It pressed in on him from every side, stealing the air from his lungs. Once he said them out loud there really was no going back. “I need help. I think I need help.” 

—

Wasn’t fair? Hell, it was the least Silas could do, after everything. He leaned into the vampire’s touch, finally able to maintain that eye contact without having guilt forcing his gaze off to one side. His answer to the argument, at least for now, was just a small shake of his head and a gentle smile that seemed to suggest the other opinions that would simply be tabled, for the time being.

 Letting Milo speak uninterrupted was important. Letting him get all his thoughts out, all the things he’d been burying for so many years… to interject would risk stopping the flow, and Silas knew how hard it could be to own up to your mistakes. Hell, he still really hadn’t faced his own—but that was neither here nor there. The zombie sat quietly, patiently, determined to be a positive and reassuring presence for Milo. He would never call it a problem, never say it was something that Milo needed to fix… that would make him the same as the rest of them, on top of making him a hypocrite. No, he was coming at it from the other side, the side that understood and partook and could recognize how difficult it was for Milo to make this decision. 

 I need help.

 “You got help,” Silas responded softly. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his wrist and lifted it to Milo’s face to dab at the tears, speaking as he did so. “And you don’t gotta humiliate yourself, neither. Listen… not one person that’s worth a damn second of your time is gonna look at you now and judge you for it, not seein’ what you’re goin’ through and understandin’ what you want your future to look like. Anyone who’s got their head on straight is gonna be proud of you. Je suis fier de toi, mon amour—so proud. You ain’t stupid, and you still got a lotta reasons to hang on to that pride… you’re a good person. Ain’t enough good people in this world, baby. Hold on to that.” He paused, the ache of how touch-starved he had become since leaving Maine overwhelming him all at once and prompting him to plant a kiss to Milo’s forehead. “And hey,” he continued after a beat, still holding the young man close, still speaking against his skin like his words were for Milo and Milo alone, “I’ll be right there with you, okay? Gettin’ high don’t matter to me more than you do. We can hold each other accountable n’ take it on as a team, yeah? You’re gonna do great. I got all the faith in the world that you’re gonna do great. I… I love you.”

—  

You got help. Milo stayed silent, allowing the words to fully process, allowing himself to appreciate the meaning behind them. Though everything Silas had done following his return to White Crest convinced him he no longer wanted a relationship, his actions now were telling him otherwise and it was becoming easier to believe with each moment that passed. The zombie had been pushing him away, but maybe that was an instinct. Maybe he meant it when he said it was to protect him, no matter how screwed up that logic might be. This conversation was only proving how much he needed Silas in his life, how much he mattered. How much he cared for Silas, and how much Silas cared for him right back. He no longer knew how to live his life without him, and that would be comforting if it didn’t feel so uncertain. “You don’t mean that.” He breathed, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He was scared to accept the affection, knowing it could be taken back at any given moment. “You can’t… I know you don’t want me here, you don’t have to pretend. I just…” Breaking off, distracted from his attempt to protect himself, he let his eyes fall shut, let Silas carefully brush away his tears. He was so soft, so gentle. It broke his heart knowing how much pain he was in. People like Silas didn’t deserve to be in pain. As much as he wanted to hold onto his anger, he couldn’t. “It feels humiliating.” He stayed quiet, and still, as though if he moved he might shatter what was happening between them. This sense of intimacy felt delicate. “They’re only going to be proud if I can do it, Silas…” The statement unlocked another fear, one that he hadn’t yet considered. Yes, people would feel validated if he attempted to quit his habits. Some people might be smug or judgemental, but even the people who were proud, who deeply, and truly cared about his wellbeing, would be disappointed if he failed them. If he promised them something he just wasn’t able to deliver. 

 Opening his eyes in surprise as his boyfriend placed a kiss against his forehead, he relished the feeling of his lips against his skin. “You’re a good person too… I don’t know why you’re so determined not to see that.” He stopped himself before he could continue, before he could reopen the wounds they had temporarily sealed, and drag their trauma back to the surface. He needed to be grateful for what he was being given, he couldn’t afford to ask for anything more. “I-” He broke off, listening to Silas declare just how much he meant. More than the myriad of drugs they had shared together, more than the frustration of being judged, more than the escape they were both granted by getting high. Silas had no reason to pledge sobriety, but he was doing exactly that. And it made him so happy it actually hurt. There was an ache in his chest, one that caused fresh tears to distort his vision. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough, and he wasn’t sure Silas walking the same path beside him was going to make it any easier. But knowing he had his support, that he was there, that he cared enough to make such an incredible sacrifice… suddenly it didn’t feel so awful to try. Withdrawing from the embrace, hoping to hold Silas’ gaze, look him in the eye and convey everything he couldn’t put into words, he was caught off guard by the statement. As innocent as it should seem, it no longer felt sweet, and casual. It was a reminder of how much they had been through, and maybe even how far there was for them to go. “I love you too… so much more than you realise.” It was a risk, he knew it was a risk. Given their last real conversation, things could change in an instant, go back to the way they were. Broken, fractured, and painful. But he couldn’t stop himself from taking the chance. He reached up to cup Silas’ face, pulling him into a desperate kiss. He wasn’t prepared for him to break away, all he could do was hope that he wouldn’t. 

—

I know you don’t want me here, you don’t have to pretend. Silas wouldn’t even entertain the idea of that being true by acknowledging it beyond a small shake of his head and a saddened expression—Milo was too selfless, trying to give him an out like that. He didn’t deserve it, after all. 

 They’re only going to be proud if I can do it. “No, Milo. We’re gonna be proud that you’re tryin’. Long as you pick yourself back up again, we’re gonna be proud.” 

 Looking down at Milo as he pulled back, seeing the tears in his eyes, Silas’ stomach dropped. He was going through so much pain, and Silas had only made it worse with all his baggage. It was less than what the young vampire deserved, but it was all that Silas had to offer. He’d made mistakes, he’d let himself be coerced into situations he should have been smart enough to avoid, let himself get talked into a spiral that ended at the side of a highway in another state… all while hurting the man in front of him so fucking badly that it made him sick. But he could do better. He knew he could do better. And he needed to make sure that Milo knew that, too. So, when his boyfriend pulled him into a kiss, the zombie didn’t resist it. Instead he wrapped his arms around him, holding on to him like he might float away if Silas let go. He wouldn’t dare be the first one to pull back, but when Milo finally did, presumably to speak, Silas jumped in ahead to get his thoughts out before he lost the courage to utter them aloud.

 “I’m so sorry, Milo. For everythin’. I was… in a real bad place. Too tired and too afraid to feel like I could go on. I just… I wanted to die. After all the things that went wrong in New Orleans, I just wanted to escape from it. Sylvain offered me that escape, he… he said he’d take over and do it for me. Kill me. He almost did. We was only feet from real death, and I ain’t never been so scared in my life. But I still wanted it, even after… after Emilio stuffed me in his car to drive us home. I still…” His gaze became a little distant—he knew that Milo was hesitant to bring any of this up, but they had to talk about it. He hadn’t been himself, the last time. They had to talk about it now, while he could actually be honest. “I fought with him about it. I was real convinced for weeks that the moment I got the chance, I’d be outta here to go finish the job. But…” He let his gaze focus on Milo again, brows knitted. “Well, obviously that never happened. I’m just—I’m tellin’ you this so you can know where I was comin’ from. Why I was bein’... that way. And I’m so sorry. I’m—I’m doin’ a lot better, now. I don’t want… I… I got things to stick around for. I got you. I got Emilio, I got Ari n’ Cass n’ all kinds of folks that now, now I see how stupid I was to wanna leave behind. So… yeah. I wanna be here for you. I wanna do whatever I can to make this up t’you, and I wanna be the one to help pick you back up when you fall down. Whatever that looks like, whatever gettin’ clean is gonna look like for the both of us… I wanna be with you. More than anythin’, I wanna be with you.”

—

Milo wasn’t sure he believed Silas. What if he didn’t pick himself back up again? What if he couldn’t? What if he changed his mind and everything returned to how it was? Would they still be proud of him? Or would the judgement increase? Would the tense conversations, and subtle accusations get worse in the wake of his failure? “I don’t know…” He murmured, but didn’t try to argue. He had a long way to go before he even needed to consider these new questions. It was a daunting enough prospect without the near future hanging over his head. Apparently Silas was all too willing to offer him a distraction from his thoughts. He felt a jolt of surprise when he realised the zombie was kissing him back, but it didn’t take him long for him to melt into his embrace. He missed the feeling of being held, he missed the feeling of Silas’ lips, his missed the feeling of his hair as his fingers got tangled in it. There wasn’t anything he didn’t miss. Humming quietly, he eventually pulled back, too lost in the moment to feel anything other than contentedness. Brushing his hair away from his face, he utilised how close they were, making the most of being able to touch him without any kind of inhibition. He was ready to tell Silas how much he had missed him, but Silas cut him off before he could. The glow that seemed to be surrounding them both disappeared the moment he was able to register his words. He was talking about that night. The one with Emilio. The one that had triggered a devastating chain of events. Part of him was undeniably curious. Emilio hadn’t told him anything, but he had almost come to terms with that. Part of him genuinely didn’t want to know, wanted to put it behind them, and forget it had ever happened. 

 He shook his head, but Silas was already speaking, a weight in his voice that hadn’t previously been present. He realised he owed it to him to listen, to let him tell his story. His grip on Silas tightening as he was forced to accept just how close to losing him he had come, he swallowed a fresh bout of tears. “I never want you to be scared.” He breathed, continuing to smooth down his hair, brushing his fingertips against the line of his jaw. Anything to show him he was there, anything to help keep him grounded. He was too tired to react to the mention of Sylvain, too tired to nurture the grudge he was holding, so he focused on the positive emotions, the love, and protectiveness, the shared sense of affection connecting them in ways it was always supposed to. “I was such a dick to Emilio… shit.” He made a mental note to apologise, to tell the slayer he hadn’t realised just how much he had been forced to endure. Maybe it hadn’t been fair to take things out on him, but something told him he would understand regardless. “I don’t need you to tell me this- Silas, you really don’t need to tell me this.” He hurried to assure his boyfriend. “It’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay. You’re here, and I’m here, and it’s okay… Listen to me.” Hearing Silas tell him he had reasons to stay made his heart swell in a way that was almost unfamiliar. His life felt as though it had been so difficult, as of late. This glimmer of hope was everything he needed, it made him feel stronger than he had in weeks. “We have each other.” He murmured, hitting his chest with a watery laugh. “It was stupid, it was so stupid.” He didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t help himself. For the first time it felt as though it might be over. They could learn, and grow, and heal together. “You don’t owe me anything- I just want you to be here… with me.” A smile tugging at his lips, hesitant, but rapidly growing in strength, the validation was needed. He didn’t realise how badly he had been craving it until Silas began to tell him how much he still valued their relationship. Climbing into his lap, he pulled him into another kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t vocalise into the action. Every fear, every ounce of lust, the love, the pain, and suffering… the beautiful feeling of beginning to reconnect. And this time he didn’t pull away, because he knew Silas wasn’t going to.  

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Another One Mites the Dust || POTW

TIMING: Current, sometime in the evening LOCATION: The Tree of Consequences SUMMARY: Marley, Metzli, and Milo stumble across something that they shouldn’t. Actions have consequences. CONTENTS: Death (human sacrifice)

Metzli tread forward, locking onto a single buck a few yards away. They crouched low, calculating their next moves. Milo had agreed to be trained in hunting, and they jumped at the chance to take him to the woods to show him how to properly track and locate a potential meal. “How you doing back there?” They whispered, being mindful of their volume, “Make sure to take in that scent and follow my actions.”

Milo continued to follow Metzli, crouching low, and taking careful steps. He was so far outside of his comfort zone, but he tried to mimic their actions. They were being led by instinct, and he was being led by them. That didn’t, however, stop his mind from wandering. “Fine.” He muttered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m just saying… sometimes button mashing is a legitimate technique. It can work!”

Stumbling, Marley made her way through the thickets. She didn’t really know where she was going, but she was going somewhere, and really, that was all that mattered. The bottle sloshed in her hand as she walked, red eyes beaming bright in the night. The night was her home, after all. Nothing could touch her at night. Not really. Only if she wanted it to. It didn’t matter, though. None of it really mattered. Things just didn’t matter. She stumbled into a tree and caught herself, blinking and looking around. She spotted a deer up ahead, through the brush. It’d be funny to scare it, she thought, turning herself invisible as she crept forward, reappearing right next to it and giving a yelp. In the next second, something heavy collided with her.

Their arm rose as they stopped, not needing to turn to know Milo was on their left side. “Shh…” Metzli pressed their finger to their lips, then pointed at the buck, no longer using words to tell him what he needed to do. Crimson eyes darted to and from him and their meal, commanding him to pounce along with them. They leapt forward, eyes dilating as their predatory instincts trickled all over their body, ready to bite and consume the blood that narrowed their esophagus. But the buck was no longer in front of them, it was Marley. “What the fuck?!” They exclaimed in surprise. “Oof!” The two rolled in a tangle of limbs, thrashing against the buck and making it bray in distress as it ran away.

Milo fell silent, retreating back into his quiet discomfort. Everything seemed to come to Metzli so naturally. He wasn’t sure how to copy them because he didn’t feel the same instinct they did. All he could do was feign confidence, and struggle to keep up. Maybe Murphy was right, and he needed to embrace the animalistic side of himself, but he wasn’t sure how, so he watched as Metzli pounced on the buck, too slow in his reaction to join them. Which may have worked out for him. Within seconds what should have been a relatively simple scene unfolded into something chaotic, and confusing. He could hear a voice that wasn’t Metzli’s, and as the buck ran into the surrounding forest, he crossed the distance to address his roommate, and whoever had decided to disrupt them. “Hey, stop it-” He hissed. “Whatever the fuck this is… Metzli, stop-” Hesitant to pull Metzli and the stranger apart, he hovered awkwardly above them.

Marley fell to the ground with a thump that would’ve taken the breath from any normal person, but the two weren’t normal. They tumbled down the slight hill that had been behind them as the deer ran off before coming to a stop, sprawled out under the vampire. The bottle in her hand was leaking into the leaves and mud but as Marley looked up and saw Metzli, all she could do was laugh, loudly.

Not too far from where the group lay sprawled, another group, one composed of hooded figures, was gathered around a large tree, one of both malevolent and benevolent energy. The figures chanted low before their arborary adored one, many of them bowed low in deference to the magnificent being above them, limbs stretched out to the sky. One moved forward to the sacrifice, a young one that squealed and squirmed against the bindings which held it down. Already it was bleeding, the iconography carved into its skin, symbols that represented that this creature’s life was going to a worthy cause. High in the air the hooded one lifted their blade, and loud were the screams that followed, only for silence to then fall.

Marley’s laugh held Metzli’s attention very minutely, keeping them on top of her as they were distracted. A pained cry and the savory aroma of fresh blood caused them to whip their head towards the silence that staled the air. Something was brewing, something felt so sinister. “Shh…” They commanded again, standing and glaring at the large tree they knew the sounds were coming from. All the hairs on their body raised and their body went even colder, if that were possible. The sounds of cutting flesh were clean and swift in their keen ears. They needed to check what was happening. “Stay quiet. There’s something over there.”

Milo was still confused, but becoming less disoriented by the minute. The sound of laughter rang out, and caused him to wonder whether Metzli and the stranger knew each other. If they did, then he could relax. The smell of alcohol was strong, and gaining confidence, he swiped the bottle from the woman’s hand, saving what was left inside of it. “I don’t get it- who are you? Why are you drunk out here on your own?” Trailing off, he realised it wasn’t fair to ask such a question, when he had been drunk in the woods more times than he could possibly count. “Okay, whatever…” he brushed off the query, turning his attention back to Metzli who was still pinning their company to the ground. “Get off, can we like, call a truce or something-” He broke off, the same sound that caught Metzli’s attention managing to catch his own. It sounded like a scream, though he so desperately wanted to pretend otherwise. His head spun to locate the source, and he was met with the scent of fresh, warm blood. He swallowed, eyes wide. “What-” He whispered, inching closer to his roommate, searching for a feeling of safety. “Do you see something?”

Eyes narrowing angrily, Marley shoved up against Metzli. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” she slurred, turning intangible and slipping through the vampire to stand. She swerved on the younger kid, also a vampire, and snatched her bottle back from him, shoving against him as well. “None of your damn business, kid.” Metzli knew, she was sure of that, but she didn’t care. She just didn’t care. The scream echoed around them and she looked back over her shoulder at where it came from, seeing the group of hooded figures perfectly through the dark, gathered around the large tree. A tree Marley somehow felt like she knew. She stared, entranced at it, as her feet began to move her towards it involuntarily. The stench of blood was overwhelming, even to her, but it didn’t stop her from continuing forward, even as she neared the line of hooded figures.

The chants had faded into whispers, a quiet drawl as a few others stepped forward to begin working on the body, ensuring that plenty of blood spilled on the roots. Figures moved in tandem to start the arduous process of clean up that they’d perfected over the last few months. Some would make sure that the tree was fed, while others would make sure that the remains were dumped. Perhaps they would make the body unrecognizable, perhaps they would leave it intact. Now that all the life was gone from the body, it was useless to them. The tree needed living meals. That which was left was nothing important. Even the sounds of approaching bodies were not important, though many heads were raised towards the sound. Those working did not stop, however. The rest would deal if there was a problem. The task at hand was far more important.

“Don’t touch him,” Metzli snapped with a growl, finally breaking themselves from whatever trance they were in. But now Marley seemed to be in the same state they were, going through them to escape their hold. Her eyes were completely distant, only focused on the people up ahead. “Milo, stay behind me.” Their eyes bore into him, hoping he’d understand that there was clear danger in the forest. There always was, but this was different, it was worse. The chanting, though ominous, was almost expected to them. What else would people be doing in the middle of the night and surrounded by trees? “Marley!” Their words were a harsh whisper, puffing out into clouds of cold air. Her footsteps crunched on the snow, leaving trails that they followed closely until she stopped outside of the small circle of people

Faltering as he watched the woman Metzli was holding down phase through them like they weren't perfectly solid, Milo was reminded of Evelyn. Was this person a Mara? Before he had time to fully react to her aggression, they had turned away from Metzli and shoved him with force. He stumbled backwards, allowing them to take back their alcohol. He wasn’t scared, so much as shocked. The quiet evening with Metzli was quickly becoming something else. Something far more complicated, and potentially dangerous. “You’re kind of making it my business.” He bit out, unable to help himself. If it weren’t for the interruption, he would probably be sating his thirst, burying his teeth into the flesh of a living creature. His throat burned as he thought about how close he had come. “I-” He stopped talking, watching with horror, and fascination as the woman became entranced by a tree not far from where they were standing. He didn’t like the way she was looking at it, but he would be lying if he said he couldn’t also feel it’s pull. Forced to stay focused by the sound of Metzli’s voice, it wasn’t lost on him that they were trying to protect him, and he wanted to tell them he was fine, only he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He moved to stand behind them, dutifully following their orders, making a note of the stranger’s name. Marley. So Metzli must know them. His theory was only proven as they began to follow Marley towards the sound of chanting, a sound that made him deeply uncomfortable. Whatever was happening, he knew they needed to get far away from it. “Metzli-” He ignored his instincts to run, begrudgingly following his friend until a group of people came into view.

Marley didn’t hear anything as she stumbled forward. She could see the body, now, dead and bleeding and raw. It was a person. A young person. Like all the other people that had turned up in strange places, disfigured, dismembered, destroyed. It was them. They’d been doing this. Whoever these people were, worshiping whatever this tree was, that Marley kept seeing in her flashes. Her hand clenched on the bottle. With a loud yell, she reeled her arm back and threw it as hard as possible at the tree, listening to it shatter and spray all over the wood. “Fuck you!” she screamed at it and charged. It wasn’t really the tree’s fault that Erin was dead, but Marley needed someone to blame, or something, or some something. She was angry and this seemed the perfect way to take it all out.

Metzli’s eyes widened at the shards of exposed bone and the blood spattered against the tree and ground. Their throat narrowed even further, hand snapping to their neck to massage the painful swallow. “Marley!” They attempted to stop her, but she was consumed by her grief, her pure anger that she displaced onto the tree that was now pulling them to it. It thrummed and the usual control they had was threatening to budge. “Milo…run. Now.” Voice was strained, fighting between the blood and the need to keep walking forward. “You need to get away. H-hold your breath and do not look at the…blood.” Another swallow struggled through, painfully passing in the narrow path. They pulled Marley from the tree, trying to stop her from causing any more damage to herself, still just staring at the tree in awe.

Milo saw the body at the same time as Marley, though his reaction was far less dramatic. He froze, further away from the tree than anybody else, doing everything he could to suppress his thirst as he stared at the person who had very clearly just lost their life. Blood was still dripping from them, warm, and viscous. He couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from it. But then Marley was screaming, and he managed to divert his attention quickly enough to see her run at the tree. The tree that loomed over the scene, ominous, and powerful. He wanted to ask her what she was doing, tell her to stop before she got them all killed, but he couldn’t find his voice, he couldn’t form the words. A shatter rang out, and the scent of alcohol mixed with the scent of blood. It hung heavy in the air like a mist. “Run?” He echoed. His voice was quiet, almost dazed. Running no longer made any sense. He held his breath, understanding at least why Metzli was asking him to do that, and for a brief moment he felt more secure. But his vision was growing black at the edges, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He hid them inside his sleeves. Was it usual for vampires to feel faint?

The living one was attacking the tree, and that simply wouldn’t do. The hooded figure who had performed the necessary sacrifice jerked their head towards the crowd. Three hooded figures emerged, each going for an intruder. Two were dead things, not worthy sacrifices. Their blood should not be spilt. They were even worse than the wizened, nearly dead things the hejkal brought them. The other still had a beating heart, and it was now a danger to the tree. It must go. It would be a worthy sacrifice. Curved, thin blades were drawn, poised for the attack. The tree must not be harmed. The tree must be protected at all cost.

Metzli turned to face the figures now on the attack, and they lunged. Protecting Milo was their priority since he wouldn’t, or couldn’t run. Something about the tree was disrupting all sense of rationality. “Milo! Run! Please!” They begged, not wanting him to be hurt, or even worse, killed. One of the attacker’s head was ripped clean off, thrown towards the sacrificer with deadly aim. The knife clinked to the ground, lost in the snow for a mere breath as they picked it up and jumped for higher ground. Utilizing the knife, they stabbed deeply into the bark to hang from and motioned for Milo to join. He couldn‘t run now, it was too late. “Jump and take my hand.” They reached out. Marley could take care of herself just fine. She was deadly, she was more than powerful, but Milo, even as a person with supernatural strength, had no chance.

Someone was coming towards her and Marley saw red. She reached out and grabbed at whatever she could, feeling a cool, thin blade slide through her palm. Blue blood poured from the wound, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt. Nothing felt like anything anymore. And it would repair itself the moment the blade was out. In the night, nothing could hurt Marley. Something like a growl ripped through her throat as she grasped the hand holding the knife that was jutting through her palm, pulled her other fist back, and smashed it across the attacker’s face. A loud crack sounded as a jaw surely broke and the figure went flying down, sputtering but not dead. The knife still hung in her palm as blood dripped onto the forest floor and Marley turned sharply on others as they began to advance. “Come and get it, you fuckers!” she shouted, ripping the knife out and gripping it tightly. A dark energy flowed around her. She whipped around and barreled through the crowd right for the tree, swinging the knife down into it. “This is your fault!” she shouted, stabbing at it again. “You took her from me!” She didn’t really know what she was saying, but it felt right. If Marley hadn’t been weak, if Marley had been better, she could have saved Erin. It was her fault. “You took her from me!”

Milo knew he was being stupid. With the training he had endured from Metzli, Murphy, and Eilidh, all determined to keep him safe and show him how to protect himself, his movements should be sharp, clean, and swift. But as one of the hooded figures moved towards him, all he could think about was the person under the hood. The human being under the hood. These were people, and he couldn't hurt them. For a moment it felt as though time had stilled, but he was brought back to the present by a sickening crunch. Though he was unable to deny his hunger, upon seeing Metzli tear the figure's head clean from their neck, he wasn't sure he would be able to keep their blood down, even if he tried. He cried out, stumbling backwards as the scene replayed in his mind. He knew Metzli was prone to violence. Used to it, even. But seeing it was something else entirely. He blinked tears out of his eyes as they threw the head, using it as a weapon. Like it wasn't a body. Like they hadn't just ended a life. It was the worst horror movie he had ever seen, only real, and haunting, and he hated it. He watched Metzli as they took the fallen knife, embedding it into the trunk of the tree, and the urge to climb it felt suddenly appealing. Scrambling towards them, he took their hand, pushing his glasses further up his nose before finding his footing and clambouring onto a particularly sturdy branch. From his new vantage point he could see the carnage, hear Marley screaming something he couldn’t understand. Who had been taken? Why were the hooded figures at fault? "No, no, no, no, no…" He muttered, glancing down and realising his hands were coated in blood. It had come from Metzli, from the person they had beheaded without hesitation. He screwed his eyes shut, doing what he could to repress the familiar feeling of his control slipping away from him. "Metzli, they're people." He clenched his jaw, speaking through his teeth. "You can't- you can't kill them like this."

Metzli wanted to help Marley, wanted to take down the things below, but Milo was their focus and he was panicking. “No, Milo. Listen. Really listen. That person was just nothing. Not even a person anymore. Dead. Animated. A walking corpse that can only do what it’s told. Those people chanting? They’re the ones alive.” It was a lot, all at once, but they’d been through similar things and had to deal with situations far more chaotic. Never did they have to show how heartless they could be and teach it, though. “Milo, you have to understand. They would’ve killed you without a second thought. It’s you or them. And I picked you. Stay up here.” Now that Milo was safe, they felt comfortable enough to help Marley, and dropped down right on top of one of the cultists. Blood went everywhere, staining their shoes and pants, spattering as they kicked off the thick, red liquid. They whipped their body around to choose their next opponent, immediately taking their skull and smashing it against the tree.

More and more cultists were pulling at Marley’s limbs now, grappling onto her arms, her torso, her body. Her mind tried to tell her she wasn’t in the forest with a tree, but in a portal, a dimension that wasn’t her own, with melted, blackened monsters, tearing away at her skin. Her red eyes flashed and she yelled louder, as heavy bodies pulled her to the ground. A knife was raised and Marley struggled, straining her arms, trying to push back and kick back and pry herself free. But there were too many, and in the next moment, the knife was plunged deep into her chest. She let out a yell, but it wasn’t one of pain. It was one of rage, and as the cultists lifted the knife to jab into her again, she disappeared in an instant and left nothing but a pool of blue blood staining the snow.

Milo forced himself to listen to Metzli, though he was struggling to process their words. “That’s not… no, they weren’t-” He broke off, realising as the words left his mouth that his roommate was right. It added a new layer to the situation, a disturbing one that he didn’t know what to do with. The hooded figures were dead, but not undead in the same way he was. They were lifeless bodies, puppeted by magic. The thought made his stomach churn. “Make them stop- make them stop chanting then.” It seemed like the obvious solution, but his thoughts were jumbled, and hazy. He wasn’t even able to fight, he was hovering above the action. About as useless as he always was in the face of danger. “I-” He shook his head, although he knew he wasn’t going to move. Metzli could take care of themself, and he wasn’t sure he was capable of facing dead bodies. The thought was too unsettling. Before he could say anything further, Metzli seemed to accept his resignation, and they left him, falling from the tree, and turning their attention back to the strange gathering below.

“Marley!” Metzli nearly made an attempt to leap towards the hooded figure with the knife, but the Mara disappeared before they had the chance. Her blue blood soaked into the snow, spreading as it seeped into it. And then the cultists were on them, and they had to punch and headbutt and kick. Their opponents limbs were ripped off, bones were broken, and flesh was torn. If they needed to breathe, they’d most certainly be panting. But it wasn’t necessary at all, so they were just standing in pools of black, blue, and crimson blood.

Whenever Marley turned invisible or intangible, she never really noticed how strange it was. She technically existed in the world, but what evidence was there? She didn’t leave footprints, she didn’t make sound, she couldn’t be touched. Here, standing in the swarm of cloaked bodies and chanting voices, Marley didn’t feel real. She turned to look at the tree and she remembered all the times she’d been pulled back to that strange place she’d thought was in her head. She didn’t think it was in her head anymore. This place around her was familiar. This tree was familiar. Marley tilted her head and started walking towards the tree again, through some thrashing bodies, through the dead sacrifice that they’d tried to clean up, through the people who were clearly in charge. She reached out and put her hand on the tree and the world around her melted away into the strange place she’d been seeing over and over and over again. She reappeared, unable to hold herself together as a splitting pain jerked through her head. The ground beneath her feet shook and the earth rumbled. Marley jerked her hand away, yelping in pain as something burned against her palm. The ground split between her feet and she stumbled backwards quickly. “Fuck,” she hissed, “fuck.”

Fuck was right. The three of them had stumbled upon something they really shouldn’t have, and Metzli knew it was time to go. “Milo, we’re leaving.” They climbed their way to his branch and threw him over their shoulder before leaping down. Everything smelled so putrid around them, so nauseating that they gagged. Marley could run, probably, hopefully. That wasn’t something the vampire was going to risk though. “Come on, Marley.” They bounded towards her and hitched her over their free shoulder, booking it away from the shattering earth. Everything they did royally pissed something off, and now it was coming to life with a powerful vengeance. It wasn’t until they had run the length of a football field that Metzli set the two down, whipping around to ensure they weren’t followed. “We can’t stay put for long.” They needed to keep running, but it was important to check in too.

Milo was too focused on keeping himself calm to really focus on the chaos that was unfolding around him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Metzli finally climbed back up into the tree. All he knew was the smell of blood had tripled in strength, and his friend was now entirely coated in it. Before he could say anything in response to their statement there was a deafening crack, and he felt the tree shudder beneath his feet. Reaching out, he clung to Metzli, ready to follow them wherever they were hoping to take him. Apparently they weren’t willing to wait, though. He had no chance to agree, to tell them he was perfectly capable of running. He yelped as they threw him over their shoulder, resisting the urge to kick, and shout. It was humiliating, he was being treated like an actual child. “Metzli, what are you- I can run-” He insisted, holding his glasses in place as they weaved through the bodies, and the blood now littering the forest  floor. He couldn’t see Marley until suddenly she was beside him, draped over Metzli’s other shoulder. No doubt feeling as ridiculous, and as powerless as he was given their current situation. “Metzli- put us down!” He demanded, but his order went ignored, and they continued to make their way through the trees until the large, ominous tree, and the people surrounding it were far enough away to feel like a fever dream. Stumbling when he was set back down, he glared at Metzli, making it clear he didn’t appreciate being carried. “What the fuck was that?” He asked, his voice uneven, and breathless. His more trivial complaints could wait until they were safe. “What happened? The ground was… the ground shaking.”

Out of the ground, roots appeared, creating fissures as the earth ripped itself apart to better accommodate them. The cracks were large, nearly cavernous, and the roots snaked out from the tree en masse. In fact, the ground could be heard rumbling all over the forest, all over the town, cracks opening and roots coming out. Whatever the roots touched died. A few hooded figures found this out the hard way, fresh screams filling the air. The others chanted louder, in awe, in fear, worshiping the new roots that spread but being careful not to touch them. It would be a disrespect to touch them.

Something else was crawling out of the cracks as well. Spectermites, with their ghostly visage, are not visible to all, but those with eyes turned toward the dead can bear witness to the magnificent sight of them as they ascended from whatever depth of the earth they came from. The largest one, the mighty queen, scuttled up the trunk of the tree, moving to rest within its mighty branches. Its fast growing branches. The tree was growing, far faster than normal, far faster than any tree ever should. Soon, it towered over the rest of the forest, creaking and shaking, malevolent and benevolent all at once. The worshipers were pleased as their chants rose high in the air. The spectermites were pleased as they began their search for a meal. Perhaps, somewhere else in the forest, a certain hejkal was also pleased. No one else should be pleased.

Marley’s inebriated brain didn’t allow her to understand what was happening as the vampire scooped her up and started running. By the time her brain caught up to her, the tree was out of sight and she was being dumped onto the ground again. In a fit of rage, Marley teetered forward and thrust her fist as hard as she could across Metzli’s cheek, shouting, “Don’t fucking touch me!” as she heard it crack, just like with the first cultist’s face. She knew this one would be fine, though. Vampires were extremely resilient. Or so Vic told her. She stumbled through the motion and fell face first back into the snow, rolling onto her back. She could feel the earth still shaking, hear it splitting, and she wanted it to take her, swallow her, consume her whole. She wanted to bury herself in the snow. “Leave me alone,” she spat, “just get out of here. Get the fuck away from me.”

The punch definitely fractured Metzli’s cheekbone, and the fall that followed definitely scraped their back. It hurt, yes, but they were angry more than anything. “You fucking asshole!” They rolled over and threw themselves on top of Marley, ignoring the rumbling, and punched her with full force. Understanding should have taken over, they should have understood that she was hurting and lashing out, but all they could register was that she punched them for no reason. They wanted to keep going, but a teetering noise consumed their ears, stopping their next punch midair. “Milo, run.” The spectermites were moving as one, right towards the trio. “Run! Don’t stop until you’re back home!” Without asking for permission, they threw Marley over their shoulder once more and whipped around. Legs were just as much a blur as the trees they passed, and they seemed to rumble with every shake of the ground too. What the fuck was happening? There wasn’t enough time to ponder. They had to keep running.

Milo couldn’t bring himself to leave Metzli, even though he knew it made sense to. They would be okay, somehow they were always okay. But he could hear strange creatures making their way towards the clearing, and Marley had just punched them square in the face. He wasn’t strong, or competent enough to break apart the escalating fight, so he waited instead. Watching as Metzli seemed to prioritise, forcing down their anger so that they could pick Marley up and carry her to safety. He felt a spark of satisfaction when he realised he was being trusted. He could make it home, he had to be capable of that much, so he turned, and he ran as fast as he could. Away from the chaos, away from the creatures, away from the horrors that were going to haunt him.

The weight on top of Marley didn’t surprise her. At first she thought it might be one of the cultists, there to try and kill her again. There wasn’t a single mark left on her body from their assault. There never was at night. Next, she thought it might be one of the roots. She wondered if something like that could kill her at night. But then she felt the fist against her face and her head whipped sideways and after a moment, spitting out blue blood, all she did was laugh again. “As if you could hurt me!” she slurred loudly, her words interrupted by laughter. Her body was being hoisted up again and she struggled for a moment, before her tired body gave in. She let them carry her until the treeline broke, before she turned herself intangible and fell from their grasp. She kept herself visible, though, and as she rolled onto her back and flipped Metzli off. She stayed laying on the ground, though, looking up at the stars, before she finally let herself disappear, closing her eyes and wishing the world around her could’ve disappeared, too.

[wickedsrest-rp]

Welcome to our weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

Something not quite right is in the air as the impact of the mining accident proves to be more far-reaching than anyone anticipated. Check out our ongoing plot of the week for ways to interact!

Darkling Lake was cleared out early after many witnessed a panicked woman who appeared to be turning into an obsidian statue. She tripped and sunk into the water before she could be questioned. This has caused residents to believe the ooze from the cracks can now affect people. While authorities have assured residents the incident was a prank, their lack of concrete evidence has failed to remove the concern.

Late Sunday evening as the sun set, La Sauce spouted out an alarming amount of the strange black ooze it's known for. While the area is currently roped off by law enforcement, since people in some louder areas of town have appeared to randomly have their mouths zipped shut.

Art Walk has a new mural and it is jarring to say the least. Three lone bagels upon a mountain of cream cheese seem to be staring back at people despite the fact they lack eyes. If someone looks back in just the right spot, they may find a new found enthusiasm for bagels and spreading the word of Bagelism. Others are finding their shoes randomly completely submerged in cream cheese throughout the day, but that's probably a coincidence.

Starters:

Alex is both amused and concerned by the traveling Spongebob statue on campus and is looking for answers

Jasper wishes the art students would stop with the meme art but that doesn't mean it's okay to mess with student's work

Cassius is unsurprised that the crabs are decidedly cursed, but he wasn't expecting a crab rave

Being a good citizen, Ren warns the residents of Wicked's Rest to avoid a particularly rude man

Fang advises people stay away from the Claw at Rock Lobstah, but also plugs her cheap crab removal services

Teagan doesn't know who Spongebob is but she is decidedly unsettled his statue is following her

Stinky air got you down? Metzli too. They're sorry in advance if they try to fight you

It is urgent that Nora gets an address. Can you help?

Place your bets, Bridie has Battle of the Bots going on. Which knife equipped roomba will steal the win?

Just Beau sending the internet well wishes in this most normal of ways while sharing masterful artistry

Milo is eagerly awaiting being able to get and play the new Zelda game, so share your gaming experiences

Luis has questions about who named cat things and why it's called a primodorial pouch

PSA to Jo's Neighbor: No one wants to listen to Karma Chameleon 18 times in a row

[wickedmilo]

WE’RE FINE | MILO & METZLI

PLACE: The forest TIMING: 3:00 AM SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli sleepwalk into the woods and wake up to find themselves eating some pretty strange fruit.  WRITING PARTNER: @deathisanartmetzli CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcohol, addiction, substance abuse, some body shaming (light-hearted banter)

The evening was uncomfortably warm for a February night, leading Metzli to seek solitude in the apartment with the a/c on blast. It helped, if only a little, to cool them down and lessen the scent of death in the air. No amount of eating helped, only dulled the urges to eat to a soft hum. Always there, always motivating. What struck them as truly strange though, was the urge to not only consume their only source of nutrition, but the strange fruit. Human desires such as that were thought to be long left behind. But they throbbed painfully, reaching new heights that were nearly impossible to ignore. So they slept, letting their consciousness fall into limbo, dreamless and black, but still a proper escape from the physical world.  

That’s how Metzli’s unconscious body was led to a strange fruit on the ground, eyes half-lidded and vacant, upper body exposed as if they were still home. Each movement was stiff, not used to moving in their meditative state. When the fruit was finally in their hands, they wasted no time in taking a large bite. The pulp smeared across their face and hands, coating them in a sticky mess that they’d be irritated with later. What mattered then though, was the god-awful, bitter taste that filled their mouth so powerfully that they woke up with a start. 

Milo could vividly remember the feeling. The strangeness of walking while not being conscious, the sensation of twigs, and thorns cutting through the material of his socks. He could remember the night air against his bare legs, and arms. And he could remember feeling as though he knew too much, as though he shouldn’t be capable of thinking. Even now, he was aware of the fact that he should be dead to the world, unconscious in his bed with Metzli sleeping soundly in the neighbouring room. But he felt powerless to change his situation. He tried to shake himself awake, the growing sense of unease giving him urgency he hadn’t previously possessed, but there was no Ariana this time. Nothing was going to ground his body, or shock him back to reality. Nothing was going to keep him from wandering further, and further into the forest. He was thirsty, undeniably so. His throat burned with every step he took. Something within the trees made it so difficult to control himself, but thirst wasn’t the only discomfort he was currently experiencing. There was a hunger, something drawing him in, telling him that he could end this all, just by taking a single bite. One, innocent, self-indulgent bite.  

Becoming more alert with each passing second, he could hear the rustling of trees, and the crunch of dried leaves beneath his feet. Then the gentle morning breeze, then an owl, then the calming rush of nearby water… His fingertips found something smooth, something small, and round that he plucked from the ground. But it was only when a sharp taste filled his mouth, juice spilling over to trickle from his lips, that a jolt run through him, startling him into the present. His eyes snapping open, they flashed red as he was hit by a wave of panic, whatever he was eating had an incredibly strong flavour. It was like nothing he had tasted since becoming a vampire, which only added to his disorientation. Scrubbing at his face with his free hand, he resisted the urge to gasp for oxygen he didn’t need. His instincts should be telling him to run, but they were telling him to continue eating. The fruit in his hand wasn’t one he recognised, but it was satiating his cravings in a way that made him incredibly afraid of it. He stared at the bite marks, the missing pieces that indicated he had already swallowed more than a mouthful of flesh. What if it was poisonous? What if this was some kind of trap? Eyes wide, hands shaking, it was only when he looked away from the fruit that he realised he wasn’t alone. But Ariana wasn’t standing with him. It was Metzli, holding a fruit of their own, and looking equally as unnerved. It didn’t escape his attention that they were naked from the waist up, but his brain was working far too quickly to deem the information important. “Metzli…” He breathed, fear causing his voice to crack in a way they were probably used to. “What is this?”   

As many times as Metzli had heard Milo question things fearfully, they still weren’t used to it. He looked to them for answers they didn’t always have because they were his best guess for everything. Even as a monster that lurked in the darkness, they were his light. And they knew they had to be in that moment for him. They knew why he was asking too. Food was normally fine to consume, but normal food didn’t lure you to eat it. “Fruit.” They muttered, still swallowing the final remnants of their previous bite. The swallow was harsh and felt like it grew in size as it went down. “I think we should be fine.” Confusion clouded their mind, unable to think for more than a few instances at a time. They felt strange, a new weight swirling in their chest. Their bare chest. “Oh—f-fuck.” A whole new pressure stabbed into their body and they quickly covered their chest with their arms, but that was the least of their worries.  

It all happened at once. The swirling reached a summit and plummeted with a weight that dropped them to their knees and forced out a cry. Flesh met damp earth, staining their legs with bits of dirt and sticking them with leaves. Their body curled like a fist, protesting the unknown pain of urges never experienced before. Metzli needed something, but they didn’t know what would replenish their body and mend the shattering dryness that pressed against their entire being. It was an entirely new kind of emptiness and they wondered if this void could be filled, if they could outrun the powerful vacuum that was much larger than their chest. They couldn’t be any more empty, could they? How was that possible? How could there be something worse than being a monster? 

“M-Milo?” Metzli tried to call out through their growing haze. Whether they actually said anything or not wasn’t clear.  

“I know it’s fruit-” Milo had intended to snap at Metzli, but in his dishevelled state the words didn’t hold any power. He sounded resigned to his situation, which was insane because he couldn’t even begin to understand what was happening. For the second time in his life, he found a desire to resist what his body was craving. With blood he could hurt somebody, other people were relying on him to stay in control. With this fruit, he didn’t know why he wanted to eat it, but he did know White Crest, and danger lurked in every corner of town. He wasn’t going to open his arms to the unknown, at least not this particular unknown. Taking one last look at the fruit in his hand, he pulled his arm back and threw it as far as he could. Hearing it shatter against the trunk of a tree somewhere in the distance, he resisted the urge to lick his fingers, ignoring the faint sense of regret that immediately washed over him. Wiping his hand on his shirt, he turned his attention back to Metzli, hitting their own fruit so that it tumbled out of their grip. How could they possibly know? What once would have comforted him had him impatiently brushing them off. “You don’t know that- don’t eat it-” Breaking off as his friend cried out, he couldn’t decide whether they were in pain, or simply trying to shield themself. Hurrying to tug his shirt over his head, he thrust it at them, encouraging them to take it. He couldn’t remember ever being self conscious about his body. He wasn’t exactly proud of the way he looked, but after so long spent chasing highs, appearance was one of the last things he usually cared about. That being said, standing in the forest wearing only his boxer shorts, and a pair of socks, he felt more exposed than he was used to, and failed to repress a shudder. He wanted to insist they make their way back home, at least in their apartment they would be comfortable, but Metzli needed his attention, and he couldn’t afford to lose focus.  

“Metzli, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong!” He had so many things he wanted to say. So many questions he wanted to ask. He caught them as they fell, lowering them to the ground so that they wouldn’t hit the unforgiving surface with force. He opened his mouth to speak again but the moment he knelt beside them, he felt it too. A growing pressure in his chest that forced the air out of his lungs, and made him sure he was going to black out. A gasp escaping him, he grabbed handfuls of dirt, and foliage, clenching his fists in a desperate attempt to bear the pain. “I’m here…” He spoke through a clenched jaw, needing Metzli to know he was still beside them. He wasn’t going to leave them, not now, not ever. Exhaling a sharp breath, he closed his eyes against the onslaught, too overwhelmed to be afraid. Too overwhelmed to be much of anything. And then as quickly as it came, it was gone. The fear he had been feeling, the anxiety, the worry, the panic, and confusion, they were all dialled from one hundred back down to zero. He choked as he swallowed fresh air, taking a moment to acclimatize. He was okay, that much was clear. He had survived whatever the fruit had done to him. and so had Metzli, but the layers of emotion he was so used to battling with were gone, replaced by something far more simple, and far more… empty. Pushing himself to sit upright, he frowned to himself, rubbing absentmindedly at his chest. “I’m okay… I think. Are you okay?” 

Milo was panicking, and they were unable to guide him through it this time. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” It was almost a snap, but it was too soft to be and Metzli was grateful for that. They didn’t think he could handle their sharpened edges when the situation was as delicate as paper.  

Metzli looked at Milo through the fog, letting him guide them to safety and taking the shirt he offered. They were surprised to see that it fit perfectly and they liked that it smelled like him. His scent was much easier to inhale than the anxiety-inducing forest surrounding them. With a deep inhale, their body settled despite the pins pricking at their skin incessantly, calling to something they couldn’t quite place. “I think I’m okay, too.” Eyes fell onto his hand, making their head tilt in curiosity, finding something familiar about it. Dejavú made their mind float, wander around in an attempt to connect the missing dots, but there was nothing there. It dissipated into nothing when they reached out. What was going on? Why did they need a drink so bad? They shook all the feelings away, recentering themselves to better offer themselves up as needed. 

“Maybe we should just go home. I need to eat and I need a fucking drink.” Or three. Or however much was needed to stop the pins and stiff sensations that accompanied every movement. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Metzli got to their feet to crouch next to Milo and inspect him both physically and emotionally. He was so small and looked a little distant, which wasn’t an abnormal reaction to what had just happened. Confusion caused many reactions, his being one of them. “God, you’re like a twink.” They stifled a laugh, teasing Milo a little to help alleviate the pressure that came with waking up in a strange place, doing strange things. 

Usually Metzli being unable to give him an answer would cause Milo to spiral, but he was too busy trying to pinpoint exactly why he felt so different, and fear had become somewhat of an afterthought. Pleased when his roommate took the shirt from him, he quietly observed them from where he was sitting. They were shaky, which was more than understandable, but they didn’t seem hurt. His desire for fruit was quickly beginning to dissipate, and his mouth felt uncomfortably dry. “I-” He tried to think of something productive to say, but he was still so dazed by the experience that he realised he had nothing of value to add. So he nodded instead, curt, and decisive. If they could just get back to the apartment he could pick apart the hollow feeling inside his chest. “Yeah… me too. A drink sounds good.” He offered them a weak smile, looking up at them as they moved closer, obviously concerned for his well being. Narrowing his eyes so that he could focus on them, he resisted the urge to push up the glasses he wasn’t wearing. This had happened twice now. He was beginning to wonder whether he should sleep in his spare frames. “Oh yeah?” He countered, unable to help himself. Brushing off his boxers, and any dry dirt clinging to his skin, he rested a hand on Metzli’s shoulder, using them to push himself to his feet. “You do drugs for eight years and get murdered… muscle mass isn’t exactly a priority.” 

Grateful for the opportunity to make smalltalk, he was relieved to find they were able to slip back into their familiar routine. It didn’t take away from what had happened, but it did make it seem smaller somehow. Less terrifying in a way. Holding out his hand so that he could help Metzli up in turn, he kicked clumsily at the leaves beneath his feet. “Let’s just get out of here. We can figure everything else out when we’re home… right?” He didn’t want to admit he felt strange, he didn’t want to scare Metzli, but holding back the information felt like a habit. He knew it would be unfair to spring it on them, he knew it would make them worry which was something he actively tried to avoid. But the empathy, and the emotion that should come alongside the knowledge was missing. Instead he was met with empty space, a numbness he only ever felt when he was nodding out. Too high to acknowledge his surroundings, or feel anything for anyone at all. “Are you good to walk?”  

The two understood each other in a way that always brought a sense of peace to a place as chaotic as White Crest. Milo was the little brother that Metzli never had and they were the family that he needed to venture into his new vampiric life. They were grateful he was the one who stumbled into the forest with. If anyone could make light of it, it was them two working together. “I think I could have that whole bottle of tequila right now. My head is killing me and this tree shit is stressing me out.” They brushed out the pollen residue that made home in their hair and rubbed at their temples. “I literally had to punch a fucking plant. A plant. And now this?” Their foot kicked at the rest of the fruit on the ground. Some eaten, some not, both equally making their eyes narrow until their thoughts went back to Milo and his lack of muscle mass. “I guess not all of us can be blessed with a ranch hand and carpentry job while human.” 

Metzli grabbed hold of Milo’s hand, standing up fully and brushing their legs free from the dirt, twigs, and leaves that clung to them. Being covered in them wasn’t as fun if they weren’t with Macleod. “I’m good to walk, don’t worry. Hell, I’ll run if it’ll get us home faster.” Tremors rose in intensity as they stood, like their body was panicking. About what, they didn’t know. It was uncomfortable and hurt their throat even more than hunger did. Or maybe it was a mixture of both. Regardless, they had both cures at home. “Come on,” They began to walk, picking a fast pace for Milo to keep up with. “And I’m not gonna slow down for you.” 

“The tree…” Milo turned on the spot, craning his neck to try and see over the line of trees surrounding them both. “It’s dead now, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “You don’t think this has anything to do with the tree…” But of course Metzli did, and they had good reason to. Unfortunately, the tree didn’t exactly have a reputation for doing good. “Tequila sounds perfect. Maybe a bottle from the liquor cabinet too?” He figured he may as well try his luck. Something told him they weren’t going to be getting much sleep, he was definitely too unnerved to try again, and probably would be for at least another week. “Wait, you punched a plant- not the plant though? I mean- you didn’t punch the tree, Metzli… right?” Mimicking Metzli’s action, realising his own hair was coated in pollen too, he ran his fingers through it, watching as an alarming amount of yellow dust shook itself loose. “Nobody has ever been blessed with a carpentry job.” He muttered, eying the edge of the clearing they were in. He had a vague sense of which direction they had entered from, and he trusted Metzli knew the area well enough to navigate. “Besides I don’t know what’s with the body shaming.” He teased, determined to make light of the situation. “My boobs are probably bigger than yours. Why do you waste so much money on binders?”  

Shooting them a mischievous grin, he helped pull them to their feet, temporarily forgetting the seriousness of what had just taken place. Though it didn’t take long for him to be reminded. He observed Metzli’s unsteady gait with what should be genuine concern. But as he watched them struggle he only knew he should be concerned, that the Milo who had walked into the forest would be worried about the welfare of his friend. Rubbing at his chest again, as though he could will his emotions back into place, he hurried to catch up with Metzli when he noticed how quickly they were walking away from him. He couldn’t afford to lose them, especially now. “Hold up-” He called, falling into step beside them, and subtly linking his arm through theirs. He wasn’t sure whether they would accept his support if he outwardly offered it, so he didn’t give them the opportunity to turn it down. “We’re not running.” He warned them. “And we’re not moving slowly either, we’re just going to walk… we don’t know what happened.” It felt strange not freaking out, he wasn’t usually the person doing the comforting. “Until we do we need to be careful.” 

“These things have been around since before that giant lizard took out the tree. I had been avoiding them up until now.” Metzli grimaced as goosebumps rose on their flesh. Something about the fruit was off, they could tell based on how their body reacted to it, but they couldn’t figure out what. At Milo’s suggestion, one he made consistently, they rolled their eyes. “I’m drinking from the cabinet. You can have the stuff on the liquor console. Especially with that comment!” They flipped him off, laughing at how ridiculous his joke was. Despite their distaste for their scars, they were proud of their body. With how close the two were, it was easy to know there was no ill intent behind his words. “They’re big enough to cause a ruckus with the police. And Macleod likes them just fine, thank you!” Laughter came a lot easier when they had gotten far enough away from the fruit and the forest. Safety came from crossing the barrier from the sea of trees to the sea of street lights.  

“I told you I wasn’t waiting for you—” Milo linking their arms confused them, but they didn’t mind. Metzli didn’t even consider it was for their benefit, simply thinking he needed to ensure he wasn’t left behind. They conceded, listening to his words and taking them seriously while being visibly annoyed. “Fine. We’ll be careful. Can we pick up the pace though? I’m thirsty and hungry. And by the looks of it, we won’t be home for another twenty minutes.” 

“How could I forget about the giant lizard?” Milo felt a little guilty, but nowhere near as guilty as he might have once. It wasn’t as though he didn’t believe Metzli, but a giant lizard was incredibly difficult to picture, and because of that it continuously slipped his mind. Regardless, it wasn’t comforting to think of a lizard roaming free that was capable of killing such a large, and ominous tree. “That’s not fair!” He insisted, annoyed that, yet again, he was being adamantly denied access to the liquor cabinet. The more Metzli turned him down, the more desirable the contents became. “We don’t know what the fruit did to us- what if this is my last drink ever?” He tried to ignore the pang of fear that broke through his lack of emotion. It was easy to do. Far easier than it should be given the fact that he usually cowered behind his roommate whenever danger arose. Eyes shining as Metzli flipped him off for his joke, he groaned audibly at the mention of Macleod. “I’d say it’s like you enjoy traumatising me, but I already know you do so…” Shelving the story about the police for another time, he felt a rush of relief as they neared the edge of the forest. The town probably wasn’t a whole lot safer, but it certainly felt that way. He had no way of knowing how late it was, but the streets seemed relatively quiet.  

Guiding Metzli down the dirt trail leading to a depressingly sparse back alley, he was grateful Metzli didn’t question his move to support them. He wanted to get home just about as badly as they did, until they followed the concrete strip, emerging onto a street that was far more central to the nightlife of White Crest. He could hear bass thumping in a nearby venue, and some drunken shouts, most likely from college students, but what really caught his attention was a singular heartbeat. Loud, and powerful, It was tantalizingly close. As they neared a coming corner he knew there would be someone waiting for them when they turned it. Ignoring Metzli’s suggestion to pick up the pace, he came to a sudden halt, his thirst all but tripling in strength. “Can you hear that?” He whispered, encouraging Metzli to listen too. He knew he was being reckless, selfish even. He had only ever indulged in fresh blood when the donation was consensual, and the professional, controlled environment of Teeth was very different to stealing a pint from a stranger. But why shouldn’t he? Wasn’t he in control? Wasn’t Metzli with him to keep him in check? Judging by the heavy scent of alcohol the stranger would brush off their lightheadedness as the beginnings of a hangover. It could essentially be considered a victimless excursion. “Maybe…” He said slowly, pretending to think on the idea for far longer than he actually had. “Maybe we don’t need to wait until we get home… to stop being hungry, I mean.” 

Milo, petulant and annoying as always, made Metzli laugh. He really wanted to get into their cabinet, and they knew it was only going to worsen his insistence. “It’s fair. I bought all of that stuff myself!” Objecting to his requests repeatedly only made the fermented liquid like gold. They didn’t understand why he had a preference to begin with, though. Wolfing down the contents of plastic bottles seemed to suffice. He wouldn’t believe he had a problem, and they weren’t going to feed the festering demon at their expense. It was bad enough that they fed it at all. “It’s not going to be your last drink, drama queen.” Narrowed eyes scanned the area, the sound of their groan ignited by the sheer distance that stood between them and everything they wanted. “I do like traumatizing you. Don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to, though. Sometimes I don’t think she wants to be with me all that much.” Ever since she expressed her desire to be with them, they wondered if they were actually worthy of her partnership. Then the wall she wedged between them made their ponderings swirl infinitely, tugging the tether that she tied around their heart, but they shook it away with a shrug. “It’s whatever.” 

At the halt, they groaned and nearly blew up on Milo for preventing them from getting home. Metzli needed a drink. Why couldn’t he get that? Why couldn’t he just listen so they could quench the burning thirst? “What?” Their face was a visible representation of a record scratch, unable to fully believe that he just professed his craving for the beating heart only a few paces away. “What the hell is the matter with you? Look at us. We’re already drawing attention.” They gestured to the lively and drunken crowds and then to the pair, clear agitation in their actions. “We need to get home.” 

“You also bought your apartment and all of the stuff inside it, but you’re willing to share that with me.” Milo pointed out, hoping it was an argument in favour of letting him into the liquor cabinet, and not one in favour of removing his name from the lease. He knew, deep down, that Metzli was never going to give him access to their alcohol, that was partially why he found it so fun to pester them, but it never hurt to try. He wasn’t a quitter. “You don’t know that!” He added, still feeling uncharacteristically apathetic towards the thought of his own demise. A smile tugging at his lips when Metzli confirmed they enjoyed tormenting him, it faded pretty quickly as he registered their following comment. It didn’t sound as though Eilidh had spoken to Metzli about leaving. He wasn’t even sure she had followed through with skipping town, but his roommate was missing her. The surety, and confidence Metzli previously had when talking about their relationship had disappeared in its entirety. “I’m sorry.” He murmured, surprised he didn’t feel guilty about withholding the information he had. “I hope you can figure things out.” Allowing Metzli to brush away the subject, the sound of the heartbeat that had initially distracted him was growing louder, and more insistent. But instead of being met with enthusiasm, his suggestion was met with frustration, and confusion. 

“What?” He echoed, unable to see what was so wrong. “It’s not like I’m saying we should kill them!” Surely his friend hadn’t jumped to such a ridiculous assumption. “Nothing’s the matter with me- what’s the matter with you?” Taking a few steps towards the sound, he was curious to see whether Metzli would make any move to stop him. “No shit we’re drawing attention,” he countered, following their graze to a rowdy group of drunks who had decided to cut between buildings. They earned a few looks of interest, but he knew firsthand that when you were drunk, weird seemed a lot less weird than it actually was. “They’ll have forgotten us by morning.” He waved off the crowd. “We can go home after. I mean, why not?” He waited patiently for Metzli to give him a list of reasons. Personally he couldn’t think of any cons that could possibly outweigh the pros. “It’s a fresh meal, Metzli. It’s literally right here.” 

Whoever was in front of Metzli, it wasn’t the Milo they had grown used to, the Milo they knew. Face contorted into one of confusion, creasing their brows together and thinning their lips into a line. “When have you ever gone on the hunt for a human?” Their hand found purchase on his shoulder, gripping it tightly, too tightly. The force lasted only a second, but even that was too long. They pulled their hand back quickly and hissed. “We’re not feeding on someone. Even I don’t have the control right now to stop myself from draining someone dry. Do you think you do?” He didn’t. Both of them knew it. It was only a matter of reason coming to the forefront of his mind, but impatience and a deeper wound was already at Metzli’s. All they wanted to do was numb it.

“Come on.” They didn’t give Milo the option to protest, pulling him by the wrist with their clammy hands. Pulsing pain canvassed through Metzli’s head, sending their breath shuddering as their unstable bare feet slapped subtly on the concrete. Strangers’ eyes peered in all directions. It made the throbbing worse. The fruit really fucked with them, it seemed. “Home. Don’t you get it? Home!” Their voice cracked, too dry as it rose. The yelling brought more attention to them, sending a sober bystander walking towards them with wary eyes, hands up in a friendly gesture. “We’re fine!” They continued to walk quickly, dragging Milo with them.

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Milo tried to sound casual but realised very quickly that he wasn’t able to pull it off. He could feel Metzli staring at him, scrutinising him, maybe even judging him for his decision, and a flare of anger ignited suddenly within his chest. “Since I had a weird fucking night and somebody decided to walk into my path.” He snapped, resisting the urge to pull away from their grasp. Their hand gripped his shoulder with enough force for it to hurt. If Metzli wasn’t on board then he wasn’t even going to attempt to feed from a stranger, the pain was a reminder of their strength. But the fantasy of doing so still felt incredibly alluring. Faltering at their question, he wanted so badly to insist the answer was yes. It wasn’t, though, and he knew he couldn’t convincingly claim that it was. Thirsty, tired, and still unnerved by what had taken place inside the forest, he wasn’t in the best state of mind to be exercising his self control. Metzli knew that all too well. “What- hey-” He glared at them as they took his wrist, dragging him in the opposite direction of the prospective snack. He dug in his heels, jerking his arm free, and wrinkling his nose when he realised how clammy Metzli’s skin was against his own. 

“Okay, okay, we’re going home.” He held up his arms in mock defeat, kicking at a nearby rock in a vain attempt to diffuse his irritation. Following Metzli’s gaze to the small gathering of friends, he noticed one of them had broken away to see what the argument was about. He supposed if he saw two half naked strangers arguing at night, he’d probably be curious too. But they were quick to accept Metzli’s assurance, turning back to walk the way they had come. “Why are you so sweaty?” He hissed, eyeing them with suspicion the moment they were out of earshot. “And why are you shaking- are you on a comedown?” His irritation grew in strength as he considered the hypocrisy of Metzli doing drugs without telling him. “Did you take something without me?” He demanded. “Are you fucking serious?” Clenching his fists, he could still feel the sticky residue of the fruit on his fingers, and did his best not to dwell on the sensation. Beginning to walk in the direction of their home, he let out a huff of breath, pointedly avoiding eye contact with his friend. 

“There won’t be a first time tonight.” Metzli shook their head vehemently, dizzying themselves in the process. What they would give to just lay down. Even more to lay down next to Macleod. They pushed past the thought and sighed. “Finally.”

Metzli was relieved when Milo began moving again, but it didn’t get to wash over them with warmth before freezing nausea could. And he had a point—they appeared to have all the symptoms of a comedown. Something they had never really experienced before. “What? No. Milo, no.” They had to put a lid on his gasket before he could blow up on them. “I haven’t even taken anything in ages. That’s what’s so fucking weird! That fruit—I don’t know what it did.” Their pace slowed down so they could let Milo walk next to him. Body slouched as it lost its battle with whatever the fruit did to them and their thirst. “Can we please just get home? I want to have a drink and lay in bed.” They reached out, interlocking their hand with Milo’s. A silent thank you for listening to reason. 

“Yeah, I got that. Thanks for clarifying.” Milo grumbled. In reality, as they ventured further from the heartbeat, the blood waiting for them in the fridge became more appealing to him. The sound of the stranger’s pulse faded into background noise, and he started thinking about how they would be able to enjoy it without the pressure of trying to stay in control. Frowning as Metzli made their relief known, he did his best to hold onto his anger, but it was proving difficult when he knew they had been right to stop him from indulging. Luckily, he had other things to be angry about. “Sure.” He bit out. He knew what a comedown looked like, and Metzli was exhibiting all of the obvious signs. He didn’t understand why they would lie to him though, the only spark of logic that was making him doubt his observation. Could it really be the fruit? And if so, why wasn’t it having a similar effect on him? Choking down another bitter comment, he looked up at the street ahead of them, making a conscious effort to focus on getting home. That was their goal. Once they were safely back inside the apartment they could sate their thirst, and start breaking down what had happened to them.

Allowing Metzli to fall into step beside him, he caught himself rubbing at his chest again. He didn’t necessarily want to lose his cool, but being so calm about such a terrifying experience felt wrong on so many levels, and as the conversation dipped, he became more aware of the uncomfortable, hollow sensation that was taking him over. “Yeah…” He murmured quietly, allowing Metzli to take his hand. It was a comforting gesture, one that helped to remind him they were in it together. “We can, come on.” He tugged gently at their arm, encouraging them to walk a little faster. White Crest, vampirism… life just in general. He knew what familia meant. They were never going to be alone. 

[deathisanartmetzli]

You Don’t Get It || Milo & Metzli

TIMING: Current - 10:29pm

PARTIES: @WICKEDMILO @DEATHISANARTMETZLI

SUMMARY: Milo and Metzli stop by the hospital for a simple errand, and what transpires is not so simple.

CONTAINS: Drug tw, Addiction tw, Abuse tw, Physical Abuse tw, Emotional Abuse tw, Gaslighting tw, Alcohol tw

Milo didn’t enjoy the hospital. Not only did it hold far too many memories of his childhood, and the relationship he used to share with his parents, it was clinical, and overwhelming. Now that his senses were heightened, every smell, and sound, along with the bright strip lighting overhead felt like an assault, battering him from all sides, pressing in on him until he felt small, and crushed under the weight of it all. Though he was grateful Metzli had agreed to take a detour so that he could drop off the pager Harsh had forgotten when leaving the apartment for his night shift, he was also incredibly on edge. He wanted to get in and leave as quickly as possible, which was why after successfully delivering the pager, he was hurrying down the halls, undeniably familiar to him even after so much time had passed. He hadn’t told Metzli that his parents were probably working, he wasn’t even sure he had told them they were doctors, but he would be able to explain when they were safely inside the car, on their way to whatever bar or club they were going to spend the rest of the night in.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it now. Things had been difficult for years, complicated, and messy in a way few people understood. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on so he turned to offer his friend a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but it was the best that he could manage considering the vague sense of panic settling deep within his chest. “I fucking hate this place…” He muttered, hoping that would be enough to justify his odd behaviour. He kept his head low, running through every way he could continue to make small talk, and avoid any questions. No doubt Metzli was going to be full of them. Accidentally catching the eye of a nurse who used to give him lollipops when he would visit with his dad as a child, he saw a flicker of recognition in the way that she looked at him, and began to walk even faster. The sooner he could get out of here, the better. “Don’t look at her, please-” He half begged. What if she stopped them? What if she sent a message to his mom and dad? “Come on, let’s just go-”

Metzli was annoyed with the pit stop the two had to make before going for drinks. Even worse, they were stopping at a hospital—probably the worst place for a vampire to be. All the smells—cleaning products, blood, death—they arched a brow at Milo. He was much more nervous than usual. “Depresso, everyone hates hospitals. They suck.”

Hands were pocketed as the two navigated the halls and Milo’s attempts at appearing calm were failing. Yes he hated hospitals, but Metzli was gathering that he hated this hospital in particular. Just as their mouth opened to ask what the hell was wrong, they ran into a woman. A clipboard clattered to the floor and Metzli swiped it up quickly to hand it back, “My apologies ma’am, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

A flirtatious smile formed and they cocked their head to the side. Milo’s mom may be older, but she was certainly beautiful. Just before they were about to put on the real charm, the doctor recognized Milo and turned her focus to him.

They managed to make their way down a few more corridors without any kind of interruption, and Milo was almost starting to believe they were safe. His parents could be in their offices, which were situated on another floor. Or maybe even in the cafeteria, sharing a coffee during their lunch breaks like he had seen them do so many times before. But his hopes were dashed when, forcing Metzli to keep up with him, they walked into a doctor, a blonde woman whose scent he recognised almost immediately. Coming to a halt, feeling every emotion he had been working to repress, he stared at the face that looked so much like his own. Distracted by Metzli, it took his mother a few seconds to realise who they were with, but the moment she laid eyes on him her expression shifted, pain obvious in her eyes, despite an underlying hope that he recognised all too well.

“No, no, don’t apologise.” She insisted, her voice quiet, confused. “Thank you.” She accepted the clipboard, not taking her eyes off of her only child. Milo knew she was wondering whether he was ready to come home.

“Hi, Mom…” He said, his voice cracking as he broke the sudden, awkward silence. As if on cue, she glanced behind her, and his father emerged from a private room. Moving automatically to stand beside his wife, it took him far less time to realise who she was talking to.

“Ali, I’ve put in a request, a technician should be here in about an hour-” Breaking off without warning, he turned to stare at his son. His eyes automatically began checking him over for any signs of physical injury. He was noticably flustered, but doing his best to remain calm. “Milo?” He asked, his voice sharp, an edge to it as he clearly tried to figure out whether there might be an ulterior motive, or a darker reason for his visit to the hospital. They all knew he wouldn’t show up for a family reunion. “Are you hurt?” Milo faltered, shocked by the question. For a brief moment he was reminded of the fact that they cared. But before affection could overwhelm him, his usual guards fell into place, aided by the alcohol he had already consumed over the course of the evening.

“What?” He demanded, his anger coming to him easily. A well practised routine by now, one he was confident in. “You aren’t going to ask me to take a drug test? Or empty my pockets to make sure I’m not stealing pills from your precious patients?” His dad didn’t react, far too used to the defensive response, but his mom bit down on her bottom lip, hurt by the accusation.

“Milo, that isn’t-” She started, but he cut her off, refusing to let her get under his skin. What he was saying was valid, they had made similar judgements in the past. They had questioned him, yelled at him, cried in many desperate attempts to emotionally manipulate him. The two interventions they dared to stage still filled him with rage, and a burning shame that he willed himself to ignore. He wasn’t the problem.

“Whatever,” he muttered harshly, making an effort to avoid eye contact with them both. “We’re leaving, right Metzli?”

Metzli was stunned by the verbal interaction between Milo and his—parents? They could only look back and forth between the two parties as they held their own private conversation. But they could hear it all. The anger and resentment on Milo’s behalf, and the parental love and worry from his mom and dad. It created a whirlpool of emotions in them, unsure on how to feel or even react.

Milo’s mother clearly seemed worried, only asking if her son was okay, and she was met with this? A grown man acting like an ungrateful brat to parents that actually seemed to genuinely love him and care about him? Oh, oh no. Metzli grew angry and stepped in without thinking. “What the hell is the matter with you, Milo?” They growled, defending his parents. “They’re just asking if you’re okay and you’re acting like a fucking asshole!”

Anger rose and rose from the pit of Metzli’s stomach, straight to their chest. Milo was acting as if his parents just yelled at him, or even put him down. They weren’t having any of it. Not when they knew what it was truly like to not have parents that loved them.

Milo fell silent, stunned into submission by Metzli stepping between himself, and his family. He could see that his parents were equally as surprised. The three Summers watched, listening as the vampire began to berate him for his frustration. Any confusion, or curiosity was very quickly washed away, and he found it was suddenly very easy to direct his anger towards his friend. How could Metzli assume to understand the situation after hearing less than two minutes of a conversation? How could they call him out when they didn’t know what he had been put through by the two people standing opposite him? He loved his parents, he wasn’t afraid to admit that. But having parents who wanted to change certain aspects of who he was, aspects that weren’t hurting anybody, was painful. He hated it. Why couldn’t they just accept him? All of him. “No, they’re not.” He snapped. “They’re trying to work out how many drugs are in my system.” Even if they were concerned for him, the question would be at the forefront of their minds. “And whether or not I’m going to embarrass them in front of their colleagues. Colleagues they decided to talk to about their son being an addict.” How many times had he come home to find new leaflets, and studies on the kitchen table? Notes from nurses, and doctors his parents were close with about how best to handle a child with an addiction. Only they didn’t have a child with an addiction. “You don’t get it, okay? You don’t get to stand there and call me an asshole.”

“And so what if they are?!” Metzli snapped back, no longer holding off any of their words or emotions. They got into Milo’s bubble, looming over him to intimidate. “Are they locking you in a fucking basement?!” Hands pushed Milo backwards, not quite hard enough to make him fall. “Are they beating you until you bleed?!” Another step forward, another push back. “Are they leaving scars all over you?!”

Anger pushed and pushed, taking them to their breaking point. Metzli may not know exactly the relationship the family had, but it obviously stemmed from a place of love. To see someone be so ungrateful and even cruel against that made them snap. Milo’s shirt was now firmly grasped into fists as they raised him off the ground with ease. “No! They are showing you love and care! Something you obviously are taking for granted!”

Tears streamed down their caramel face, and hands were on Metzli’s shoulders—it was Milo’s parents. Eyes softened when they turned and made eye contact with them, and they let Milo go. “Even now, they are trying to protect you,” words were strained and wet behind hot tears. A small crowd of nurses and doctors began to form, but they continued. “You don’t get to stand there and act like your parents are hurting you when you don’t even know what that really feels like. When you have parents that want you and care for you enough to make sure you stick around.”

Pain was painted on their face, full of sorrow and disdain for what they had witnessed and what they had experienced. Closing their eyes for a few seconds, they sobbed softly and walked a few feet away to recollect themselves.

Milo’s eyes widened as Metzli descended on him. He realised there wasn’t just anger in their voice, but aggression too, and he curled in on himself, a subconscious attempt to make himself small. Forced to retreat, he stumbled backwards, his chest stinging where Metzli had laid their hands on him. He wasn’t expecting to be pushed, to be physically challenged in front of his parents, but there was nothing he could say. He wasn’t about to apologise. If anything Metzli should apologise for making so many assumptions. “Stop it.” He demanded, regaining his balance, and trying to sound firm in his order. Taking another step back when his friend decided to push him for a second time, he only felt his anger surge. This wasn’t fair, nothing about this was fair. As if being in the presence of his parents wasn’t difficult enough, Metzli was determined to make it worse. “Metzli- stop!” He said again, scrambling to grasp at their hands as they lifted him easily from the floor. It was a terrifying sensation, finding himself so out of control. The toes of his shoes slipped against the linoleum floor, desperately trying to find purchase. For a brief moment he worried they were going to throw him backwards, do something to further draw attention to their unnatural strength, but then his mom rested a careful hand against their shoulder, attempting to de-escalate the situation.

“I don’t really know what’s going on here between you two… but this is a hospital, this isn’t appropriate.” She said, her voice quiet, as always tinged with disappointment, and hurt. Milo resisted the urge to look her in the eye, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw there. Feet finding solid ground again, he shook Metzli’s hands off of him, brushing down his shirt with a shaky huff of breath. Trying and failing to compose himself. They were crying, but he didn’t care. Not right now. Not in this moment. “Protect me, and change me.” He bit out, edging away from Metzli in case they tried to lift him again. How many times had his parents told him he was wrong? Broken, and damaged... How many times had they told him he had a problem, like they knew him better than he knew himself? They wanted Milo, the perfect, clean and sober son. The son who didn’t exist. Not Milo the disappointment, the son who only ever wanted to have a good time. Turning to face Metzli, he defiantly held their gaze, mustering all of his courage to do so. “I do know what that feels like. Not in the same way you do but that doesn’t make it any less valid.” He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by his mom, who was watching him with fresh tears shining in her eyes. She seemed oblivious to her colleagues, who were hovering nearby in case security needed to be called, politely making conversation among themselves to offer the family privacy.

“Milo, we don’t want to change you. We’ve never wanted to change you.” She begged him to believe her. “We only ever want you to be okay.” Glancing over to Metzli who had decided to put some distance between themself and the situation, he could see his mom’s heart break for this person she didn’t know. The maternal instinct in her wanting to wrap Metzli in her arms and offer them a loving, undeniably patronising support network. He shook his head, his throat dry, his chest tight. It wasn’t that simple, it was never that simple. Because his version of okay was very different to the version his mom and dad liked to discuss.

“I am okay.” He snapped, finally looking them both in the eye, his gaze shifting between his mom and his dad as they stared at him, looking as lost as he had ever seen them look.

“Milo…” His dad was hesitant to speak, overly aware of the crowd forming, and of Metzli still standing a few feet away from them. He could sense the situation was precarious, and he clearly didn’t want to make things worse. “We just want to get you help. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Let us help you.”

There were those words again. Help. He needed help. Everything that had been building within him became amplified, he could hear every heart machine, every IV drip, every shuffle of paper, every cough, every sneeze. He could smell his dad’s cologne, his mom’s perfume, her hair products. Even their washing detergent was obvious, permeating the air, creating a thick haze of nostalgia, a childhood long left behind. His anger rose in his chest, raw, and hot, and before he knew what he was doing he was shouting as loud as he possibly could. “I DON’T NEED HELP!” It tore out of him, echoing against the sterile walls, and silence fell over the hospital wing. Finally nobody was able to pretend they hadn’t noticed the altercation. He felt tears break free to run down his cheeks, and looked around at the nurses and doctors who had known him since he was in diapers. How many of them had coloured in with him during their lunch breaks, or kept him entertained in their offices by playing I Spy while his mom and dad dealt with emergencies? How many of them used to babysit? Or carry him around on their shoulders, explaining different machines, and what they did to help their patients? What did they think of him now? Did they even recognise him as the same person? Intelligent, curious, determined to become a doctor when he grew up?

His breath coming in short gasps, he took one last look at his family, at the people who had raised him, before pushing past them, needing to get away from the heavy environment, the weight of so many eyes upon him. He didn’t know if Metzli was following him. Why would they? But he didn’t care enough to check.

Fists were balled into fists as Metzli continued to listen idly. Body shook with angry vibrations. For Milo to think that their experiences were even close to similar baffled them to the point of silence. What happened was an overreaction, and they knew that, but it was too late to take it back now. All there was to do was let the family have their not-so-private conversation while they waited a short distance away.

Hearing how the doctors spoke to their son made something form in their chest. Metzli felt jealous. They supposed that fueled their outburst as well—angry at how Milo treated what they had always wanted, what they could never have. At Milo’s snap, they grimaced, hearing the twinge of pain beat in his parent’s hearts. Being alive this long, they knew what despair sounded like within a heart.

Mrs. Summers’ heart rattled and beat erratically, playing off the fearful hurt she felt, while Mr. Summers’ heart pounded with anger that he failed his son. Everyone watched Milo walk away, and Metzli didn’t bother saying anything to him as he passed. Instead, they stepped up to Mrs. Summers, only looking at the ground to say, “I’m sorry, ma’am.” It was weak, soft, and laced with the tears that still fell from their eyes.

Without another word, Metzli turned and went after Milo, still silent as they reached the outside world. The only thing that could be heard was the crunching of gravel beneath hurried steps. “If you think those are bad parents, I’d hate for you to have had mine.” They said finally, with no emotion.

Milo lit a cigarette the moment he was outside, sucking down the smoke as though it could fix all of his problems. The cold night air stung at his cheeks, causing the tear tracks there to burn, and he relished in it. The physical sensations were a welcome distraction from his inner turmoil, though it didn’t take long for Metzli to catch up with him, and bring with them everything he was trying to run from. “I heard you!” He shouted, unable to help himself. He couldn’t lower his voice if he tried. “I heard you apologise to her- you had no right to do that!” He took another long drag, hands shaking with emotion. “Fuck you, Metzli. Fuck you and your bullshit!” He was pacing, almost frantic in his movements as he tried to work away the energy still tense in his muscles. The fear of Metzli punching him, or pushing him, or picking him up. The fear of his parents following him. The anger, and the hurt that radiated throughout his body as he thought about what had just taken place. Fresh tears spilled over, and he scrubbed them away with his sleeve. “I don’t think they’re bad parents! Sometimes they can be really fucking good parents, but you have no idea what they put me through- you can’t know!”

Unless they had lived through his own experiences, had to deal with the disappointment, the manipulation, the guilt trips, the interventions, the threats of rehab, the patronising talks, they couldn’t possibly understand why he was so upset. Why he longed to keep his family at a distance. He was doing so well. Metzli just had to ruin his progress by running into his mom. Why couldn’t they be more careful? If they had only watched where they were going then chances were he could have slipped away before his mom even realised he was in the same wing. “Fuck!” He kicked at a nearby can on the floor, listening to it as it clattered against the asphalt. “Just leave me alone, okay? I don’t have anything to say to you.”

Metzli couldn’t take it anymore, anger had fully peaked. A crushing blow to Milo’s cheek was made by their fist. He fell to the ground with a thud and his cigarette flew somewhere into the darkness. “What did they put you through? Getting you help because they don’t want to watch their son lose himself?” They crouched down next to Milo, a fire was lit in their eyes. “You know what my parents did? I got beat, everyday. And when they were done, I’d get put in the basement. For days. But hey, at least I got a single fucking meal a day, right?”

A shaky huff pushed through from their lungs as they continued to lock eyes with Milo. “Every day they told me how much they hated me and wished I wasn’t born because I ruined their life. And you’re bitching about your parents being worried about you? About trying to help you because they’re scared that you’re hurting yourself? God, Milo. Fuck you.”

Finally breaking away, they stood tall and took a few steps away from Milo, and towards their car. “They’re not even embarrassed of you. They don’t try to hide it, to hide you. But hey, fucking sucks that they have had you take some drug tests so that they could find the best way to love you and help you.” Metzli sneered and continued to walk, not looking back. “Text me when you stop acting like an asshole.”

A car door opened and then shut, followed by an engine turning over. Metzli peeled out, wanting to be rid of the situation. They needed a drink, straight from a body, any body.

Milo yelped in pain, and shock as Metzli’s fist connected with his cheek. Pain spread outwards from the site of impact as he hit the ground hard. Staying sprawled where he landed, gravel cutting into his palms, it took him far too long to process what was happening. Before he knew it, before he could even try to stand up, or take a breath to steady himself, Metzli was crouching before him, spitting venom alongside their words. He could feel their pain, feel how much they were hurting, but he wasn’t comparing their pain to his own. He was trying to show them there were a million ways to hurt. “I don’t have a problem.” He spoke through his teeth, his jaw firmly set as black blood began to drip from his nose. “I’m allowed to be angry, you don’t have the monopoly on this.” Metzli didn’t own familial trauma. Just because they had suffered in a very particular and terrible way, it didn’t mean he couldn’t also suffer. Why was that so difficult to understand?

Holding Metzli’s gaze as they made eye contact with him, he swallowed, reaching up to cuff at the blood now working its way into his mouth. It was cold, bland, and chalky. Nothing like the metallic warmth he was used to. Pulling his knees up to his chest as Metzli finally stood again, he tried to protect himself should they decide to kick him, but apparently he wasn’t worth the effort. His friend turned towards their car, talking over their shoulder as they walked away. Reaching out, he found his lost cigarette, and clumsily picked it up, staring at Metzli’s back as he took a deep breath of smoke. He wanted to say something, anything to make sure he had the final word, but he couldn’t make a sound. So he watched them leave, exhaling, letting the back of his throat burn to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that he felt about as helpless as his parents had looked. I don’t need help. He told himself. I don’t have a problem. The more he said the words, the easier they became to believe.

[riseofmurphy]

Blood Balance || Milo & Murphy

WRITING PARTNER: @wickedmilo​ PLACE: Murphy’s Home TIMING: Currentish SUMMARY: Begrudgingly, Milo seeks out Murphy for assistance with a substance problem. CONTENT WARNING: Addiction, Blood, Alcohol

Milo was annoyed, but resigned enough to let go of his anger. He couldn’t go back to drinking animal blood, not after human blood. And certainly not after Mina’s blood. The last thing he ever wanted to do was turn to Murphy, the person who had taken away his safe, and ethical source of sustenance. But he didn’t have much of a choice. It was difficult to find inexpensive and reliable ways of drinking human, at least without resorting to drinking live, drinking from victims. Murphy swore she had the answer, swore she understood what it meant to find the balance between humanity, and the animalistic instinct to kill. So he was standing on her doorstep, too stubborn to knock, and too prideful to wait for her to let him in. Swallowing his resentment, he pushed open her front door, letting out a huff of breath as he did so. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be doing this, regardless of his hesitant friendship with the wolf. But Metzli knew about Mina now, he couldn’t help feeling like a schoolchild who had been called into the principal's office. He was in trouble, and he was also under strict orders to stop drinking from his friend. If Mina wasn’t involved, maybe he wouldn’t be so ready to listen. But Mina didn’t deserve to be dragged into his mess. None of this was her fault, so it was time to let go of their arrangement. “Murphy?” He called, letting the door swing shut behind him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he walked further into her home. “Are you here?”

 The hum of sleep slowly began to dissipate from within her skull as the sounds of an intruder pulsed into her subconscious. Murphy’s body shifted from human to lupine while she was still half asleep and a loud growl rumbled through her chest and into the empty spaces of her home. It took mere moments for the she-wolf to careen down the stairs, mouth bared as she knocked the person off course. She did not realize who it was until her paws rested upon his chest with his back flat on the ground. As recognition seeped into green hues she allowed herself to shift back. “Sorry.” Her apology was gruff but sincere. “I have not been sleeping well.” Murphy knew it was most likely a result of her lack of contact with Metzli. She missed the other vampire dearly and having gone so long without any kind of physical contact from them was beginning to play tricks on her mind. Their absence continually brought back the feelings of when she thought they had perished. Dead. Gone. It made for a disturbing sleep. A robe was grabbed off the back of a couch and as she wrapped it around her nude form she shot Milo a small smile. “I take it this visit isn’t merely social?”

 Maybe Milo should have anticipated how Murphy was going to react to him letting himself into her home. Even as a familiar growl sounded out from upstairs, followed by incredibly quick, and unmistakable footsteps, he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised. With barely enough time to face the stairway he knew the wolf was bounding down, he was thrown backwards by the animal, hitting the floor with enough force to push the air from his lungs. Staring up at Murphy, taking a moment to draw in a new breath and process what was happening, it didn’t take her long to return to her human form. The shock of being pinned to the ground leaving him as quickly as it had come, he scrambled to get out from underneath her. “Urgh, gross, get off of me.” Sitting up, and straightening his glasses, he averted his gaze while she crossed the room to pull on a bathrobe. “Seriously, how would you like it if I kept walking around naked?” He insisted, with the air of somebody teasing a sibling. “You’re not sorry, Murphy. You live for the chance to prove you’re stronger than I am.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it more in his half hearted attempt to brush it down. The sudden shift in position had left his vision black at the edges, and he hesitated before clumsily getting to his feet. 

 “You’ve not been sleeping well?” He echoed. He was curious to know why, but not stupid enough to think she would ever confide in him if he asked her for elaboration. This was Murphy. Everything needed to be on her terms. “Is there anything I can do to help?” The words escaped him before they could stop them, and he was frustrated by the fact that he still held a degree of affection for her. Almost in spite of everything she had put him through. Without her deciding to cut him off from his blood supply, he never would have turned back to animal blood. And without turning back to animal blood he never would have discovered fae blood. Without discovering fae blood, he wouldn’t be sick, and weak, and hungry. It felt as though every problem he had could in some way be traced back to her. “No.” He replied, reminded of the reason for his visit. There was only one sentence he needed to utter, and no doubt it was something she wanted to hear. But it was so difficult to say, he felt as though it was lodged in his throat. Maybe he would choke on it before he could admit defeat. “Look… I’m still mad, okay? About the whole blood thing. But you told me you could help… that you knew how to find a balance between the monster and the person. And I’m hungry… I’m really fucking hungry, so help me.” He held her gaze, refusing to give into his instincts and submissively lower his head. “I want blood, Murphy. Human blood, and I need you to teach me how to control myself.” 

 Murphy’s eyes narrowed in a teasing manner, “If you looked as good as I do without clothes I certainly wouldn’t complain.” Though the sentiment was haughty she also knew it to be true. No one who saw her form, either of them, could claim she was not beautiful. His next comment caused her usual temper to flare. “Is that what you think?” Her words bit. “I leapt on you because I thought there was an intruder.” She tried to calm the edge of anger in her words. It would not do either of them any good to get into an argument. “And when I show you strength, it is to show you what you could be.” Eyes the color of tree leaves in the summer met his gaze. “I would be proud if you could ever out match me. It would mean I had taught you well.” Her head shook. “We are friends, Milo.” A small smirk tugged up the corner of her lips. “Plus, it can be amusing. I am low on wolves to play with so you’re the next best thing.” A friendly sincerity laced through the conversation. Milo may not be pack, family, but he was a friend. Someone that she would look out for if necessary. Though not to be doted and checked in on as though he was pack. It was a distinction that might not make sense to him as a vampire but her wolf understood completely. Between a member of her pack and a friend, Murphy would always choose pack.

 “Any chance you could get that roommate of yours to stop by?” She paused before continuing quietly, “I cannot even smell them in the house anymore.” It was a momentary lapse. The she-wolf wanted to tack on a ‘nevermind if they can’t be arsed to see me I certainly don’t need them’ but decided against it. An attempt to reconcile and dismiss what she had stated would only make her weakness, her need more obvious. Murphy felt as her brows quirked in surprise at the baby vampire’s question. “I do.” Though the reason for her control was something she knew that Milo would hate. She had the control to resist because she let herself give in when she needed. Embraced the monster. Were she to suppress her instincts, something she would never do, the results would be disastrous. She could picture the headline now, “Werewolves in White Crest”. Her head nodded. “I can teach you, yes. But only if you are willing to learn. It requires you listening to what I say, doing what I tell you to.” She snorts as she remembered how volatility he had acted the last time she had tried to teach him something. “Don’t worry, it is only in this matter you’re required to obey. You’re free to do what ever other stupid things you’d like without comment.” Murphy kept her gaze open and honest. To show Milo that she had truthfully extended the offer as a friend. Obedience was simply needed to avoid disaster. You could never be too careful when monsters came out to play. What remained to be seen was whether or not he could bring himself to actually agree.

 Milo rolled his eyes, not finding the display of confidence surprising in any way. But he was caught off guard by Murphy’s sudden attitude. “Did I say that?” He demanded. “I have no doubt if you genuinely thought I was an intruder I’d already be dead dead.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he glared at her pointedly. “It’s got nothing to do with how strong I could be, you would hate it if I somehow ended up your equal.” Murphy enjoyed being dominant, she lived to take control, and if that wasn’t about to work in his favour, maybe he would have added more venom to his tone. As it was, he needed that desire. She would only agree to help him if she knew it gave her power, so he leaned into it. His expression softening as she reminded him of the fact they were friends, he thought back to who she had been when she believed Metzli to be dead. He had seen a softer side to her, one that was gentle, and caring, and protective. That Murphy was still standing in front of him, just hiding behind the Murphy he had come to expect. “I’m really the next best thing? I’m flattered.” He deadpanned, unable to hide the fact that he genuinely was. It took a lot to win Murphy’s affection, and somehow he had managed to. 

 Faltering at the mention of Metzli, it took him a moment to process the unexpected question. As far as he knew Murphy and Metzli were still close, but maybe something had shifted in their dynamic. “You haven’t seen them?” He asked, realising as he spoke that he couldn’t smell his roommate either. “You know you can always visit the apartment, right? It isn’t like we’d turn you away or anything.” I do. Two simple words that were able to ignite a spark of hope within him, and push all other thoughts from his mind. He felt a smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t want to think Murphy was the answer, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction. But maybe she was. Maybe this was the way forward for him. Allowing a few beats of silence to pass, he hesitated before agreeing to her terms. Not only because he knew how much she would love to hear him submit, but because it went against his stubborn nature. This was the person who had stolen his autonomy. Who, without his consent, had taken away his ethical, and convenient source of blood. She was dangerous, and wilful, and if he said he would follow her orders he knew she would hold him to his word. But what other choice did he have? He wanted this. Jeez, he needed it. “Fine.” He muttered, a bitter taste filling his mouth. “I’m willing to learn, I’ll do what you say, but nobody gets hurt, okay? That’s my one condition.”

 “You aren’t a pile of ash right now because I have control.” Murphy snapped the words at him. The irritation was because his words stung. Though they did not always see eye to eye, she had at least thought he understood. It was now painfully obvious that he was in fact, oblivious. Milo did not see the care in her actions. Did not understand that her tough love was compassion. A way for her to look out for him. If he had any brains at all he would realize that her actions meant that she cared for him. “You don’t know me.” This time her voice was quiet and resentment budded in the tone. “A pack is only as strong as its weakest link. But it is more than that. We teach because we care. To know that if necessary we could survive without each other. And the weak want to learn because it means they can better protect their family. You know nothing! Nothing of the comfort it brings to be able to rely upon each other. To trust that you can close your eyes safely.” An unbidden growl bubbled in her chest. It was soft, just like her words. “Are you so arrogant that you think it is just to put your friends in danger because of your mistakes?” Green hues flashed. “Or perhaps you can’t be bothered to truly give a shit about someone other than yourself?” Cooly Murphy looked him up and down. “Don’t pretend that your weakness, your morality,” she laughed at the word, “Makes you better. It doesn’t.”

 His words about being welcome at their apartment were tossed aside. Though he stated she was, Murphy was smart enough to know it was mere courtesy. Words that were expected to be said. She knew when she was not wanted, and she could sense that feeling now. “No ones going to die, if that’s what you mean.” Someone would be hurt the moment Milo’s fangs sank into their skin. Murphy would not make a promise she couldn’t keep. Her back was turned to him as she went into the kitchen and pulled down a reusable bag from some local business. Into it she stacked several bags of blood. More than was needed in the time frame she would give him. The she-wolf thrust the bag into his hand. “Drink all of these by Friday. You haven’t been feeding regularly, your body has weakened. You don't drink anything else other than this.” Before he could ask the question her answer was already spilled forth. “You’re doing this because if you don’t, I can’t promise you won’t kill anyone. That’s my advice. Follow it or don’t. But if you choose not to, those deaths won’t be on my head.”

  Milo could see Murphy had been affected by his words, and he almost, almost felt guilty. He knew she didn’t see herself in the same way he did, but he hadn’t expected her to be so reactive to what he considered the truth. He knew if he wanted her to help him, he needed her to care, so he decided to pull back. To speak less plainly, and do what he could to strengthen the tenuous connection they shared. “Then thank you for allowing me to live, I guess.” He countered, his voice far less sharp than it previously had been. “And thank you for implying I’m a weak link. I thought I wasn’t a part of your pack, anyway.” He added, resisting the urge to make air quotes around the word. It still wasn’t a concept he could fully understand, maybe because he wasn’t a wolf. But he should probably respect it to the best of his ability. Otherwise it wouldn’t be long before Murphy was shutting the front door in his face. Feeling a sudden rush of anger, he swallowed his resentment, his eyes flashing a brilliant red. It wasn’t fair of her to suggest he was selfish, it wasn’t fair of her to tell him his mistakes were putting his friends in danger. He had learned the basics of how to physically protect himself from both Eilidh, and Metzli. But he was still so new to the supernatural world. The threats it held were overwhelming, and terrifying beyond anything else he had ever experienced. It was easy for Murphy because she had been born into it. How did she not understand that? “I’ve been dead for less than a year.” He snapped. “I’m not going to apologise for being unnerved by violence. That’s bullshit.” 

 Setting his jaw, he didn’t fail to notice how Murphy carefully worded her sentence. He supposed it was fair. When a poorly timed promise could land you in danger, and there were creatures waiting to use an apology against you, navigating language was key. Another way he had yet to adapt. “That’s what I mean.” He agreed, with a grim sense of satisfaction. At least Murphy could assure him of that. No matter what happened, he trusted her to stay true. Watching quietly as his friend turned on her heel to fetch a large bag of blood from the kitchen, he knew what it contained before she could reach him. He took it when she pushed it into his arms, holding it against his chest as she spoke. He wondered briefly whether Metzli had told her about his brush with fae blood. But apparently she hadn’t spoken to Metzli. She was either making an assumption based on his lack of a decent food source, or he looked about as weak as he felt. Honestly, either would be believable. “Wait- anything other? Like no alcohol?” He asked, feeling his stomach drop. “I- I will- I’m not stupid, Murphy. I told you I’ll listen, I just… I can still drink alcohol, right? That’s not going to make a difference?” 

 “You’re not.” It was bland, the way she said it. The she-wolf did not care that Milo was not a part of her pack. Her time with Ada had begun to show her what it meant to be wolf and it did not involve begging those who were less than, uninterested, into joining her. She was wolf. She was better. “Were you and a member of my pack in danger I would gladly feed you to one of the roots to save them.” Murphy knew that she would defend Milo if necessary but not with her life and not at the expense of a packmate. “The human world is full of violence as well. Especially when drugs and alcohol are involved.” It would have been easy to continue to debate, but Murphy simply let the subject fall. To teach him was something she took seriously and getting into an argument that left them both in a high temper would be fruitless. 

 “Not stupid?” A laugh barked into the air. “That question was stupid.” Her head shook. “Injest whatever the fuck you want, as long as the only blood you take in is what I’ve supplied you. Be back at ten pm Friday and don’t be hammered.” Murphy moved to lie upon the couch and her arms rested behind her head of tangled hair in a gesture of clear dismissal.

  So, why do you care? Milo swallowed the comment, not wanting to be pulled deeper into their argument. That wasn’t the purpose of his visit, and he would have plenty of time to argue with Murphy in the future. It seemed to be what they were best at. Letting out a huff of breath that implied he was tired of the conversation, he wasn’t concerned to hear she would kill him to save someone she cared about more deeply. He had always known that. She didn’t work very hard to hide the fact. “Cool.” He muttered, matching her level of disinterest. “No shit, it’s full of violence, but when you’re an unassuming teenager you can avoid it pretty well.” He had definitely experienced the darker side of drug use. He had done questionable things when he was looking for a hit, and witnessed others doing far worse. But when things became violent, he was usually adept at making a quick exit. And for the most part, the circles he ran in tried to avoid confrontation where possible. That being said, his habit had undeniably resulted in his death, so maybe Murphy was right. If he shared her perspective, and her cutthroat attitude, then it was possible he might still be alive. 

 “I don’t see why.” He muttered. “You seem to get off on controlling my diet.” Relieved to hear alcohol was still very much an option, he didn’t give her the chance to respond to his statement. “Ten. Right… got it.” Resisting the urge to insist he didn’t spend the majority of his days under the influence, he made a mental note to stay sober on Friday. He could drink until the end of the week, but he needed to keep a clear mind if this was going to work. Even though he knew Murphy would stop him from taking somebody’s life, he didn’t want to lose control. He wanted to prove to her, and to himself, that he was stronger than his thirst. Watching as she brushed him off, wandering to lie down on her couch without acknowledging his presence, he knew it was his cue to leave. Hitching the bag in his hands a little higher, he made his way back towards the door. There was a sinking feeling where his heart had once beat, something telling him this was a terrible, and dangerous idea. But there was also a spark of hope. Murphy held the key to feeling more in tune with his vampiric nature. He needed her.

[drowningisinevitable-retired]

Affettuoso || Milo & Mina

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable and @wickedmilo SUMMARY: Milo and Mina meet to play piano and check on each other. They both end up helping each other in various ways CONTENT: Addiction, drug use (fae blood)

Milo was struggling. And knowing he had no real reason for struggling was only making him feel worse. Metzli wasn’t dead. The hardest thing he had ever been forced to process had been taken back by the universe. But having a complicated grieving process interrupted in such a monumental way had left him with something akin to emotional whiplash. Not only that, he was still searching for a more permanent source of blood, and he knew more than one of his friends was having a difficult time. Metzli’s death wasn’t the only issue Bex, and Mina were having to face. He didn’t know the details of their situation, he only got to see the aftermath. The way they were trying to navigate their differences, and move beyond what had taken place between them. Sharing such a close friendship with the Fae, and the Spellcaster meant he was doing what he could to maintain a steady stream of contact with the both of them. Allowing them to exist outside of their relationship, to spend time with him that may offer them a brief break from their troubles. It was why he had messaged Mina upon hearing she was back in town. Why he had suggested meeting up with her whenever she was ready to see him. It hadn’t taken long for her to suggest a piano session, and far too much time had passed since he last had access to the White Crest University piano room.

Having said yes in a metaphorical heartbeat, he was wandering the halls of the building, hurrying to reach the room he knew she would be waiting in. The light outside was a dull, dusty blue. Night was approaching fast but this time of day was as close to sunlight as he could possibly get without requiring the use of UV filtered glass. He did what he could to enjoy it. Eventually arriving, coming to a halt in front of the familiar door, he didn’t knock before opening it. Even if Mina was on the other side, this had become their shared space. There was no such thing as an intrusion.

The trek from the cabin that Mina was staying at to the car that she called and then to the school wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience, but she was doing much better than she had been. Her bones were healing, though they ached, and she could manage with a single crutch since her left side was still okay. She’d managed to hobble her way into the music room and sat down on the bench, left hand rubbing at the wrapping around her right wrist. Her sleeve moved up her arm, exposing a patch of the scales that had refused to move themselves from her body, no matter how hard she tried. She tugged it back down, sighing. She couldn’t tell if she was doing better having seen Bex or not, but she wanted to try and be better. Mina didn’t know how to be better. Maybe seeing Milo would be a step towards being better.

When he walked in, Mina smiled up at him, hoping she didn’t appear too tired and that it didn’t seem too fake. She was trying. Look at her, how she went out in public, how she attempted to do something normal with a friend, how she tried to forget that she was a bad. Wasn’t she doing well? “Hi,” she said, quietly. “I’m… not quite as healed as I’d like to be, unfortunately.” She lifted up her bound wrist, her fingers flexing but painfully so. “So I’m afraid you might be playing by yourself tonight. Is that alright?”

Milo faltered when he first laid eyes on Mina, taken aback by her appearance. But he hurried to compose himself, not wanting to make her feel self conscious. Letting the door close softly behind him, he offered her a quiet smile. It was impossible not to notice the bandages, even without her drawing attention to them. And the crutch leaning against the wall beside her was equally as obvious. But he held his tongue instead of asking questions, knowing she would elaborate when, and more importantly, if she ever decided she wanted to. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were in pain. I wouldn’t have…” He trailed off, wondering whether his words were technically true. Sometimes, regardless of pain, company and a change of scenery could make a person feel better. He wasn’t beyond attempting to encourage a brief escape from reality, and that was exactly what their music sessions had become. An escape. Some might even say a healthy escape. “Are you okay?” He asked finally. “Or getting there, at least?” Nodding to let her know he understood she couldn’t play, he moved to take a seat on the bench beside her, tugging his sleeves up so that his hands were no longer hidden by them. “It’s alright, so long as you think you can stand to listen to me play.”

He kept his head lowered as he spoke, running his fingers absentmindedly along the keys. It wasn’t lost on him that he probably looked equally as tired, albeit in a slightly different way. He hadn’t been sleeping, had been spending far more time with a bottle in his hand than he would care to admit. And existing on animal blood wasn’t easy. He had done it before, but having since developed an appreciation for human blood, it couldn’t compare. Thin, and less flavourful, it left him feeling empty. Craving something more substantial, which was always undeniably dangerous. Settling fully on the bench, a soft sigh escaping him as he realised how good it felt to be back, he tilted his head to look up at Mina, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t suppose you have any requests?” He asked, his eyes shining despite his melancholic expression. He was here to forget his life, and its complications. They weren’t important right now. “I don’t know if Bex has told you, but things aren’t exactly going well for me either… if we’re not careful I’m going to play something sad and depress us both.”

“It’s okay, I probably– probably should’ve mentioned that I’m not doing the best, ah, physically, along with everything else,” Mina said quietly, turning her eyes downward for a moment before she looked back up at him. She shrugged. “I broke my wrist and my leg, along with a couple of ribs, but everything’s healing.” And she knew that probably wasn’t really what he meant by doing okay. The truth was that she was doing rather terrible, and she imagined that she’d keep doing terrible for quite some time. It didn’t matter, though. It really didn’t matter. She managed to smile up at him. “I’ll manage. And I’ll be all healed up in a few weeks, I’m sure.” And she smiled a little easier as he sat beside her, and she turned with him to face the keys.

It was hard for Mina to be in front of a piano and not play. She genuinely liked play, so much, and her fingers felt like they were itching. She lifted her left hand and played a few short notes, sighing quietly. She looked at him, really looked at him. It was strange for Mina to see a vampire and think that they looked tired, despite the fact that they couldn’t sleep. But Milo looked tired. He looked tired and worn down. “I’m afraid I’m in no better of a mood than you are,” she murmured. But she frowned, adding. “What do you mean? I’m so very sorry for– for not keeping up with you the way I should have. I’ve been a bit of a bad friend, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, Bex mentioned… I guess I just- I wasn’t sure how long it takes you to heal.” Milo felt bad for not considering the severity of Mina’s injuries, but his guilt wasn’t strong enough to erase how content he was to be in her company. Or how convinced he was that getting out would be good for her. He noticed the way she carefully misunderstood his question, choosing to comment on her physical wellbeing rather than her mental health. But he couldn’t blame her, and he didn’t want to push her to talk. So he listened quietly, eventually offering her a smile. “That has to be the one good thing about being a weirdo, right?” He teased, although he couldn’t force the lighthearted tone he was aiming for. “At least we’re resilient.” Pleased to hear she would no longer be in pain after a few weeks had passed, he wondered whether anything else would be different by then. Whether her relationship with Bex would heal alongside her bones, and whatever happened between them would be left in the past. His smile growing as her expression softened, he couldn’t resist reaching out, letting his fingers lightly brush against hers before pulling away again. The piano room, and her presence were both such comforts to him. He longed to bring her some comfort too.

Listening attentively to the notes she played, letting them echo in his ears long after the room had fallen silent, he didn’t realise she was observing him until she spoke again. When he caught her gaze he could see the concern in her expression. “Then we can be miserable together.” He said, nodding his head definitively. As much as he hated the fact that the people he cared about were struggling, it undeniably made him feel less alone. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He hurried to insist. Mina hadn’t messaged him, but he also hadn’t messaged Mina. “We’ve both been through… a lot. What matters is we’re here now, y’know? We’re here for each other now.” Turning back to the keys, he began to play, absentmindedly improvising a song. It was slow, and gentle, but not necessarily unhappy. Just something to keep his hands busy as he thought about how best to explain his situation.

“After losing Metzli, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I was just beginning to process their death when- when they came back. And I’m so relieved, Mina. You have no idea, but it feels like my mind is still catching up.” He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, briefly interrupting the song to push his glasses further up his nose. The moment he began speaking, it felt as though he couldn’t stop. Words were tumbling from his mouth, and it simultaneously felt as though a weight was being lifted from his chest. “Vampires don’t sleep, it feels like- like a state of unconsciousness, I guess. But it’s still a break, and I keep convincing myself that if I do that, if I let myself sleep, I might wake up and realise they really are gone.” As he continued, the song he was playing became louder, and faster. Far more complex. His emotions were pouring into it without his permission. “Like, what if they never came back and it was all in my head? What then? And there’s Murphy… she’s on some self righteous mission to teach me a lesson, and she cut me off from my blood source. My ethical nobody-gets-hurt blood source. Bex has been giving me animal blood but it doesn’t feel like enough, I’m just- I’m always hungry, I’m always tired. I know so many of my friends have it worse, but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make anybody feel better- myself included. Everything is… it’s really fucking hard.”

“Have you seen her?” Mina asked, trying not to sound too hopeful, too desperate for solid proof that Bex was physically okay. Mina just wanted her to be okay. She was just desperate for Bex to be okay, and it wasn’t like she could see her right now. She didn’t feel right seeing her right now. “I… I heal twice as fast as a human, as long as I get enough water, so that’s nice.” She didn’t agree with him that it was a perk of being a weirdo. There weren’t any perks to not being human. She wondered if that was something that he’d agree with if she voiced it. She didn’t, though. “At least we’re resilient,” she echoed. She wished Bex was as resilient. She smiled weakly back at him as he agreed for them to be miserable together. That would be nice. She didn’t need someone trying to convince her that she was good. She just wanted to feel bad, just for a bit, just until she could get over it.

“I… still. I know that’s what matters, now, but still.” She’d just been rather caught up in herself, recently. Even before the mushrooms, with everything that went on with Roy, what was going on with Metzli and their sire, worrying over Bex because of that. “We’re here for each other now,” she said a little more firmly, for herself. Once she was healing better, she’d do better about being there for her friends. She’d be a better friend. Mina needed to learn how to be a better friend. She looked at him, her eyes soft. “I– Everything with Metzli happened while my head was still… too much, from the Fae mushrooms, so I didn’t really process that they were gone, really, and then they were messaging me, and they were back.” She was glad that they were back. It was strange to admit that she was glad that they were back. “It’s not in your head. I promise. They’re back.” She paused for a moment, as if waiting for the promise to break. “See? Not in your head. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be doing very well right now.”

Mina frowned at the mention of Murphy, the name familiar as the person that had hurt Bex and gotten locked in a mirror with her. “So she’s… she’s starving you? Why on earth would she think that’s a good idea?” Mina asked. Who could possibly believe that starving a vampire, and a young one at that, would be a good idea? The more she learned about her, the more that Mina didn’t care for Murphy at all. She sat there quietly, pondering Milo’s words as he played. She wanted to be a good friend, and he was starving. Not quite starving, but he needed to find a good source of blood. Mina was already injured, and, even if she wasn’t, she healed fast. She was used to bloodloss, used to being injured. And if she could help Milo, maybe that would be okay, right? Maybe that would be alright. “I… If you want, you could take some of my blood. It’s– It’s not the same as human blood. You’d need to keep supplementing it with animal blood. I’ve heard that it’s very sweet, and it– it can be… you don’t want to have too much of it. But it might at least make that one thing a little easier.”

Milo faltered, surprised to hear Mina had yet to see Bex. Regardless of where she was staying she was obviously capable of paying her girlfriend a visit. Maybe things between them were more complicated than he realised. It hurt to even consider. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve seen her.” He wanted to assure Mina that Bex was okay, but he also didn’t want to lie to his friend. “I mean, she’s… she’s okay, she’ll be okay. I think she’s just having a difficult time figuring everything out. I get it, I’m not exactly thriving either. None of us are.” He hummed quietly in acknowledgement of Mina’s healing process. Humans didn’t heal quickly, though double the speed had to count for something. It seemed no matter how serious her injuries had been, she was through the worst of them. Sensing her relief when she realised he wasn’t going to force her to talk, or feign happiness, his song began to slow again. Returning to the gentle pace he had originally started with. “No buts.” He countered. He didn’t want Mina to feel guilty for anything, not when they had both played a part in the distance between them. “It’s the only thing that matters, okay?” He prompted, not trusting her to believe him.

Shifting on the piano bench, intrigued by the mention of fae specific mushrooms, he resisted the urge to ask whether they were anything like magic mushrooms. Mina was confiding in him, and he wasn’t going to shatter the moment by zeroing in on what was potentially a new supernatural drug. Almost glad to hear that she had managed to escape the grief, and pain that came with mourning Metzli, he allowed himself to become distracted by their sudden promise. Holding his breath without meaning to, when a few moments had passed and they drew attention to the fact that they were fine, he felt a thousand times more sure, a thousand times lighter. Mina couldn’t lie. Metzli really had come back to him. Biting down on his bottom lip with a breathless laugh, his eyes shone with unguarded gratitude. Mina understood him, she understood how desperate he had been for the confirmation. “You could argue you aren’t doing too well anyway.” He pointed out, teasing her to the best of his ability. His smile fading again, replaced by an expression of both longing, and confusion. The word starve felt so dramatic, and yet perfect for his current situation. When he focused on his body, his throat was burning with thirst. A thirst that hadn’t been dampened since Murphy had stolen his supply of blood. “She wants to teach me control, but she also believes in… embracing the monster.” He felt awkward, and uncomfortable even saying the words out loud. Murphy had been born a wolf. It was different for her. He didn’t know how you were supposed to embrace a side of yourself that had been forced upon you by a stranger.

Though his song had tapered while he was waiting to see the results of Mina’s promise, it only came to a halt when he registered what she was offering him. Far beyond the response he had been expecting, he found himself staring at her in disbelief. “You… you would do that?” He asked, unable to understand what she would gain from such generosity. And she was already weakened, would she really be able to stand losing blood? Swallowing his desire, doing what he could to suppress it, his curiosity was almost impossible to ignore. “Who told you it was sweet? Have you… have you done this before?” He should snap out of it, he shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea. But it was so hard to say no when Mina was suggesting she consensually give him what he had been craving. You didn’t get more ethical, and less dangerous, than a supernatural friend attempting to help. Did you? Mina would know how to be careful, Mina wouldn’t willingly put herself in danger if she didn’t think she was able to maintain control. “Are you… you’re really serious?”

Watching Milo stumble a little, Mina quickly clarified, “She’s come by where I’m staying a few times, and I talk to her every day, I just… I wanted to know how she was around other people.” She bit her lip, looking away. “I know that she’ll be okay. I know everyone’s having a hard time. I’m sorry about it. I wish things were easier.” She made a lot of wishes these days, really. Stupid, useless wishes that would likely never come to pass. Maybe that was for the best. Mina saw what wishes did to Bex. She knew what they were doing to Metzli. When Milo tried to make her feel less guilty, it didn’t make the guilt go away, but she did nod her head. “Okay.”

Milo held his breath with the promise, just as Mina had, and she did manage a smile at the relief that filled his expression as he managed to laugh. She gave a soft chuckle of her own, her uninjured hand scratching at her neck. “I mean… no, I’m not doing the best, but I would be doing a lot worse. Broken promises are really not fun.” She watched him carefully, listening as he talked about Murphy and why she was doing what she was doing. “That’s cruel. And you don’t– You don’t have to be a monster to exist. This doesn’t seem very much about teaching you control. Depriving you of food… that’s something that someone bad does to prove a point.” And maybe Mina was thinking about it too simply, but that was how she felt. That was what she thought. And Milo seemed as adverse to his nature as she was. He didn’t seem to want to be amonser, either. If Mina didn’t have to, then neither did he.

“I would do that,” Mina said quietly, looking at her hands. It was the least she could do. She healed faster than any human Milo might pick. “I know it’s sweet because there’s no iron in it, so it doesn’t have that flavor. I’ve never done this, but– but, when I was younger, and my dad would do jobs with slayers, sometimes they’d use some of my blood to draw out spawn so that they could kill them. Vampires are apparently quite fond of it, of Fae blood. I think it makes them see through glamours, too. You just can’t have too much, and you have to supplement it, and we probably shouldn’t make this a permanent thing.” It could be addicting, and they never discussed it, but Mina was aware of Milo’s attachment to addictive substances. “I’m serious, yes.”

“Last time I saw her she… well, she wasn’t happy.” Milo admitted, seeing no reason to lie to his friend. “But I’ve also seen her pull herself out of dark places like, a thousand times. She misses you… I think she needs you, but you already know that.” It was the closest he would ever come to telling Mina what to do. It wasn’t his place to give advice unless he was asked for it, and it certainly wasn’t his place to order Mina, and Bex to spend time with each other. But it was important for him to make Mina understand her absence wasn’t beneficial. If anything, it was having a detrimental effect. He wanted them to move past whatever had happened. If he couldn’t be okay himself, then he at least wanted other people to be okay. “Maybe they will be easy one day. Metzli is always reminding me how young I am. How much life there is left to live. We’re all in it together, y’know… and I kind of like that. We’re together now when it’s difficult. And we’ll be together in the future… when it isn’t.” He didn’t consider himself an optimistic person, but as he spoke the words he almost, almost found himself believing them. A smile tugging at his lips as Mina agreed with him, he gently nudged her with his shoulder, careful not to exacerbate her pain. “I think you told me what happens when you break a promise.” He wrinkled his nose, making light of the situation to offer them both a temporary break. “Even human I knew it was better to avoid making them. I’m far too unreliable.” His smile faltering as the conversation moved on, he was reminded of his situation with Murphy. Of the many complicated emotions that came along with it.

He sighed, withdrawing from the piano so that he could rest his hands in his lap. “I don’t know if it counts as cruel, she really thinks she’s doing something good.” It was difficult to voice, but Murphy had comforted him on more than one occasion. And after he had visited her home she seemed to be protective of him in a way he wasn’t used to. She was looking out for him. Could she be blamed if he wasn’t compatible with her techniques? “I don’t think any of us are monsters. I did for a while… I woke up in a body that was so different from my body- from the one I was used to. And that was- I hated it. Everything felt so wrong. I’m beginning to feel like myself again though… I mean, I’m getting used to the fact that this is who I am. I wish Murphy could see that’s as valid as embracing it. I’m never going to love it like she does. I didn’t ask for any of this.” Reaching up absentmindedly to press his fingers against the scar at the base of his throat, he frowned, refusing to allow the memories of his attack to assault him.

Falling silent again, listening to Mina as she explained the way her parents used to use her blood, the fact that she had never let a vampire actively drink it herself made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to put her in a position where she felt like she needed to feed him. He was still being careful, he wasn’t going to hurt anybody. She was under no obligation to try and protect the general public. Then again, she cared about him in the same way that he cared about her. She knew he was hungry, and she had a way to settle that hunger. He would do the same if the roles were reversed, they both knew it. “Glamours?” He had only heard the term used casually in conversation. Nobody had ever explained the specifics to him. “What kind of glamours?” The last thing he wanted to do was trigger whatever damage Virgil had done to his psyche. Did that involve glamours? Would he be more or less vulnerable should the fae try to make contact again? “I-” Ignoring the way being told he needed to limit himself made him want to overindulge, he nodded, lifting his head to hold Mina’s gaze. Even just her offering meant more than she could possibly know. He hoped his gratitude was showing in his expression. “If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure she wasn’t,” Mina said quietly. She didn’t think that Bex was very happy at all. Mina herself wasn’t particularly happy, either, and this was all her fault. She’d done this. She’d ruined everything. She was trying to stop thinking about that, even though it was the truth. She looked up at him softly. “You really think that? The– the being easier and the sticking around?” And there were times that Mina tried desperately to be hopeful, and there were times that it was too hard, but she wanted to be hopeful. She wanted to count on this. It was so strange. If she’d been told two years before, or even just a year, that she’d be friends with so many inhumans, that they’d be important to her, she’d have thought they were lying. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. Not at all. But it was. She was dealing with that. She could be hopeful and live with that. “I have told you what happens, yes. I mean… it does vary, a little, depending on the promise. But that probably wouldn’t have been a fun one to break.” It might have caused Mina to not exist. She didn’t know.

“I think, and I apologize if this is unwarranted, but I think  that unintentional cruelty is still cruelty. Just because she thinks she’s doing something good, doesn’t mean that she’s actually doing something good.” And the words felt strange in Mina’s mouth, like something she was constantly reminded about but that she also refused to listen to. And maybe there were certain things about her life that she was ready to acknowledge, about the way she’d been raised, about how she’d maybe experienced more cruelties than she cared to admit, but not now. Not here. She looked away because she did think they were monsters, but she didn’t think she should mention that. “I can’t imagine going from being one thing to being another,” she said instead. It was bad enough that she’d always been Fae. She couldn’t imagine being human and having something turn her Fae. “I’m sure that was horrifying. I’m– I’m glad you’re embracing it, though. I think that’s a good thing, accepting yourself, in spite of it all.”

Mina brought her injured right hand to her left wrist and started rolling up the sleeve, exposing her wrist that was still patchy with scales that just didn’t seem to be going away. It would be best to use her uninjured wrist since it was unlikely that anyone would be checking it. “Glamours like… you’ll be able to see other Fae for what they really are, if they have wings or bark for skin or horns, things like that. I don’t know what you’ll be able to see with me, though. I don’t really glamour.” Mina allowed a few more scales to sprout up. “Those are mine. The skin is also mine. It’s not really glamouring.” She held her wrist out to him. “I’m sure.”

Milo swallowed any doubt that might show on his face. He believed it because he needed to. Because Metzli had convinced him it could be true. And maybe he could be to Mina what Metzli was to him. A positive influence. A reason to hope. “I think it’s possible.” He agreed, smiling softly at her. “And if it’s possible we can work towards making it happen, right?” He tried to imagine the perfect future. One where Mina, and Bex were happily married. Where Metzli had a partner, and he had a boyfriend, and there was no danger for any of them to run from. Their problems were as simple as sending wedding invitations, and organising pet sitters for collective nights out. Why couldn’t they have that? Why didn’t they deserve to have that? Listening to the brief elaboration on what a broken promise could do to a fae, the weight of her words wasn’t lost on him. Mina had taken a risk. A small one, of course, she knew she was telling the truth. But a risk, all the same. And she had done so to help him understand what was real. His mental wellbeing really meant that much to her. He opened his mouth, wanting to express his gratitude, but choked on his words before they could escape him. The habit of not thanking Mina, and not making promises to her had been a difficult one to fall into. He was finally beginning to catch himself. “It feels good to be sure.” He said instead, knowing she would understand the deeper implication of his words. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Turning his attention back to the piano, he played a handful of notes. He knew Mina was right in a lot of ways. That the intention behind Murphy’s actions didn’t change the fact that they were unfair, and somewhat controlling. But he couldn’t forget the vulnerability she had shown when she had clung to him after ‘losing’ Metzli. He had seen, on more than one occasion, that she cared about him. She genuinely wanted him to be okay. Shaking his head, he began to focus on his music once more. “I wouldn’t say I’m embracing it. I think if I embrace it… people get hurt.” He hated the fact that his instinct was to hurt people. Metzli had made it clear to him that he was built to hunt. He could fight back against his body, but nothing was going to change that. Regardless, he was determined to make the effort. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t. “But I’m learning to be okay with it. I mean, I was murdered… I don’t know how to get over that. And the guy who did this just… I guess he didn’t think I was worth sticking around for. It’s hard not to be bitter about being abandoned.” He sighed, his hands falling still to rest against the piano keys. They were cool, and smooth beneath his fingertips. “It’s taken a lot to get where I am.”

As Mina began to roll up her sleeve, he couldn’t help but feel awkward, and embarrassed. For all his talk of learning to accept himself, he did what he could to hide his fangs from people, and he couldn’t remember whether Mina had ever seen them before. If she hadn’t, he knew she was about to. Taking in the information on glamours, he did his best to file it away. If he had been taught anything during his time as a vampire, it was the importance of retaining information on his fellow supernatural creatures. Only raising his head when Mina held her wrist out to him, he was curious to notice the pattern of scales on her skin. He wanted to ask her whether that was a part of her healing process, or whether he should be concerned that maybe she wasn’t healing like she said she was. But he was too preoccupied, too overwhelmed by the prospect of blood. He hadn’t drunk from a person since his first day as a vampire. He didn’t know what the protocol was supposed to be. So he carefully took her wrist, holding it with his hands to keep it steady. Debating whether it would be more painful to break her skin quickly, or slowly, he leaned forward, letting his fangs slip out before he could change his mind. Before he could become too humiliated, or question the morality of what he was about to do. Pressing down with as much force as he dared, after a faint resistance, his fangs broke through, and warm, fresh blood flooded his mouth. Within seconds his nature took over, and he shifted in his seat, any hesitance leaving him. He pulled Mina closer, swallowing mouthful after mouthful, drinking as quickly as her body would allow. He could hear her heart beating in her chest, and it spurred him on. The taste was sweet, unlike anything he had ever tasted before. And he longed for more. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

“Right,” Mina murmured. It was possible. It was possible for things to get better for them. For all of them. Even for her, if she let it, if she decided to stop feeling sorry for herself long enough to breathe. She wanted that. She wanted to let herself want that. It was… hard. Everything felt hard, and it felt heavy. She shrugged at him telling her she didn’t have to make the promise. “I wanted to. And it’s nice, isn’t it? To have the confirmation? Sometimes I think it’s nice.” Even if making promises wasn’t always nice, sometimes it helped. Sometimes it was worth it. In this case, it was worth it. She watched him play piano some more as he considered her words, and she allowed him to have that time. She soaked in the music instead, debating joining in with just one hand but deciding against it. She’d rather just listen, though. She didn’t have much heart for playing. “It’s hard to embrace things like that,” she said, and her words tasted like ashes on her tongue. She understood how hard it was. Every time she seemed to embrace what she was, something went wrong. Mina was perpetually one step forward, two steps back. “I don’t know what your sire was thinking, but he sounds like a bastard,” Mina said with as much vehemence as she could muster. “And… you should be proud, with how far you’ve come, I think. Being okay with being what you are… I know that’s difficult. It says something that you’re sitting here now, and you’re not feral.”

It took Milo so long to bite her wrist that Mina almost wondered if he’d go through with it, but he seemed to figure out what he was doing. Once he started, he didn’t seem to want to start. She wondered how long it had been since he’d had anything other than animal blood. Fangs cutting into flesh wasn’t any different than being stabbed, not really. If anything, it was gentler, kinder. The strangest sensation was being fed on. It wasn’t painful, not like she expected, not really. It was draining, though. Mina could feel a fatigue setting in the more that Milo took. She probably should have stopped him much sooner, but she didn’t have the heart to do so. Finally, when she knew he’d taken a little more than he should, she murmured, “Milo. Milo, you need to stop, now.”

“It is nice.” Milo assured Mina. He was frustrated by the fact that he couldn’t openly show his gratitude. But he knew she was used to people showing her they were grateful. She could probably recognise gratitude and thanks in a person’s expression, or in their body language. And that needed to be enough. Nodding with a grim smile, he didn’t look up from his hands. She understood the struggle of trying to accept what you were. She had never been human, but that didn’t matter. That didn’t make her pain any less than his. “I don’t think I even want to.” He admitted. “I want to be okay with it, but embracing it means… something else.” He thought of Murphy, of the violence she left in her wake. Of Eloy, and the countless lives he had destroyed. And even of the vampire who had killed him to chase a supernatural high. They weren’t fighting against their instinct, they were revelling in it. “I met him once.” He murmured, frowning as his song continued. It wasn’t something he enjoyed talking about, but in the safety of Mina’s company, the words escaped him without his permission.  “I didn’t realise until after, but he recognised me. He recognised me and he didn’t say anything.” Offering a lazy shrug, he let the warmth of Mina’s assurance wash over him. He wasn’t proud of himself. He didn’t know how to be proud of himself. But he had come a long way, and it was undeniably an accomplishment. To survive what he had and still maintain a semblance of self. “Thank-” He broke off, a huff of breath escaping him, the sound both amused, and a little bitter. “I can’t say it…” He looked up at Mina, holding her gaze. He would do anything to be able to say thank you. “But you know… right?”

Despite the intimacy of the moment, and the heavy topic of their conversation, once he had broken the skin of Mina’s wrist, it may as well have been a different day. He may as well have been in a different room, with a different person. Every emotion seemed to dissipate. Every memory of his attack, of the struggles that had plagued him over the past nine months seemed to fade, leaving him with the sweet, delicious taste on his tongue, and a pleasant rush that he couldn’t quite place. It was all he could think about. There was no room for concern, or self control. And it would have stayed that way if Mina’s voice hadn’t forcefully cut through the haze, reminding him of his situation. Reminding him why he couldn’t afford to lose himself. He faltered, taking a second too long to remember where he was, and more importantly, what he was doing. But when it hit him, it hit him with strength. He withdrew. Pulling back quickly, blinking in the hope of his eyes returning to their usual colour. In the sudden silence, he reached up to scrub at his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. Self conscious, and awkward. He was hesitant to acknowledge his friend, worried he might see disgust, judgement, or even fear in her expression, but her tone had been sharp. Had he taken things too far? He held her gaze despite wanting more than anything to avoid it. “I’m so sorr- shit.” He broke off, desperate to apologise. “Are- are you okay? I- I didn’t hurt you?”

Mina understood. She understood all too well. The idea of embracing what she was, who she was, how she was, it meant embracing something that was wholly inhuman. Mina wasn’t delusional; she knew that she’d never be human. But she’d lived an entire life striving desperately to be humane, and she didn’t want to accept inhuman ideas and mindsets because what if she did become a monster? What if she did become the kind of thing that hurt those closest to her on purpose? Mina didn’t want that. She didn’t want to be that. She’d give anything not to be that. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That he was like that.” And she was. He sounded cruel and wrong, to kill a boy and leave him to figure out his unlife on his own. That wasn’t right. Then again, she’d always been left to figure things out on her own. Maybe that’s the reason she was the way that she was. She smiled lopsidedly. “I’ll never use any thanks against you. Just don’t make a habit of thanking people like me,” she said. It would be safer for him that way.

Maybe Mina shouldn’t be putting this much trust in a vampire who had barely been a vampire for that long, but she didn’t attempt to jerk herself away. It was all she could think about, the various ways she should get rid of him, put down a monster just as she’d always been taught. Milo was her friend, though. She cared about him. Perhaps this would be for the best; he’d learn control if it was with someone that he didn’t want to hurt. And he managed to pull away eventually. She looked at him, feeling lightheaded and unsteady, but that was normal these days, wasn’t it? She was fine. “I’m fine,” she said, her tongue feeling thick. She cleared her throat and gave him another small smile. “I’m fine, really. You’re okay. Just be conscious about how much you’re taking.” She rolled her sleeve down and stemmed the bleeding. “We can’t do this often, but, if you need it…” she trailed off. If he needed it, then she’d let him have her blood. Not too much, and he’d have to supplement it, but she’d do it. She was tired. She probably needed to start heading back to the cabin, to the water. Instead, she wanted to just rest, if only for a moment.

“You don’t have to be sorry. It isn’t your fault, Mina.” Milo was touched by the sentiment, but didn’t enjoy the thought of his friend being forced to shoulder his burden. As of yet she had been nothing but a positive influence in his unlife. Guilt, and empathy should belong only to his killer. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry.” He smiled at her, pleased to hear he had a certain degree of freedom when it came to his use of language. He didn’t want to put her in a difficult position, he knew the power imbalance made her uncomfortable, but the clarification was comforting, regardless. “You know how much you mean to me… how much you matter. I don’t need to tell you like that, Mina. You’ll always be able to understand me.” He offered her a smile, hoping she could take comfort in the knowledge. He certainly did. When she brushed off his question, insisting she was fine, he debated pushing her, asking her if she really was fine, or if she was only able to say so because she was forcing herself to believe the statement was true. But he also wanted to believe it was true, so he ignored the worry gnawing at the back of his mind. It was soon replaced by an unnerving sense of shame. She was right, he had been too unfocused. Too distracted to even consider how much of her blood she could stand to lose. Swallowing his emotion, he nodded silently, a frown lightly creasing his brow.

“I know…” He hurried to assure her. He already understood this wasn’t something they could repeat with abandon. Mina needed blood to survive, continually taking it would only be increasingly dangerous. So why was he already working to figure out how much time needed to pass before it would be appropriate to ask for more? The first and only time he had ever drunk from a person, he had been out of control. He had no memory of what it felt like, what it tasted like, how it made him feel. And he was glad of that. He didn’t want to know how it felt to drain somebody of life, to feel somebody die in his arms. But this… he could remember this, and it had been so much better than he ever thought it could be. The blood was fresh, and warm, and sweet. Feeling his teeth pierce Mina’s skin… it was almost like giving in to every instinct he had been fighting. The rush was comparable to a high. He felt high. He wasn’t sure whether that was due to the fae blood, or the fact that his thirst had finally been sated. He did what he could to shake off the euphoria. It wasn’t lost on him that he only felt better because Mina had volunteered herself to feel worse. “Are you… are you going to need help getting home? Or I can play you something and we can stay here…”

“I’m still sorry,” Mina said. She could be sorry even if she wasn’t the one that hurt him. She could be just as sorry as she was about Metzli’s sire, as she was about Bex’s parents. Though, there was no one in the world Mina hated more than Bex’s parents, even after everything. “I appreciate that,” Mina said, a bit of a tease working its way into her voice. And maybe he could see that appreciation was safe. It was thanking Fae where things got complicated. “I know, Milo, and I do. Understand you. I do.” She got what he meant. And she knew that he was concerned about her, could see the crease between his eyebrows as he looked at her, and she couldn’t keep eye contact. She helped him out. That was enough. She was just as fine as she’d been before, when she’d first gotten there and sat down. She wasn’t really fine, and she didn’t think she would be, not for a long time, but she wasn’t any worse than she had been.

“I can stay here for a little while.” Enough time for some of the light headedness to go away. She might attempt to hobble out to one of the water fountains in the hall, but, otherwise, she was content to just sit with him for awhile. She’d need to leave eventually, need to order a car, head back to the cabin. She’d be traveling through the woods in the dark, but Mina wasn’t scared. She wasn’t scared of the dark. She nudged at Milo, turning him back to face the piano. With her good hand, she played a few short notes, leaning against him hesitantly. She wasn’t worried about hurting him. It would be so much harder to hurt him than if he was human. So she leaned against him a little more, hoping it was okay. It had been so long since Mina had been around people, not since Metzli visited, and they were cold, and so was Milo, but Mina missed touch. She’d never realized how much she missed touch. “I’m glad you agreed to come play tonight. Maybe next time I’ll be able to properly join in.”

“Well then,” Milo echoed Mina’s playful tone. “I guess I appreciate you being sorry.” And he did, he meant exactly what he said. But it was also a way for them to leave behind any tension, any heavy sense of seriousness that seemed to hang over them both like a cloud. They came to this room to escape, and they still had time to do just that. To let their lives disappear, if only for a little while. Noticing the way she averted her gaze, he eventually did the same. She did seem to understand him. Maybe in a way that others didn’t. He knew a lot of his friends secretly worried about him, or judged him for his habits, refusing to listen to him when he insisted he didn’t have a problem. Mina wasn’t like that. Mina had never said anything that set him on edge, or made him feel as though she was looking down on him for the things he enjoyed. Humming quietly in acknowledgement as she nudged him with her shoulder, it was obvious what she was encouraging him to do, and he placed his hands back on the keyboard, unable to ignore how strange they felt. How strange his entire body felt. Pressing down, allowing a few notes to ring out, he paused while Mina got comfortable, both surprised, and endeared when she rested herself against him. It was a relief to know she still trusted him. That she had seen the side of himself he so often resented, and decided he was very much the same Milo she cared for. “I’m glad you asked me to come.” He admitted, focusing once again on creating a song. It was happier this time, and filled with warmth. He poured his emotion into it, his memories of their time together. The things they suffered through, only to emerge stronger, and more sure in their friendship. Even though most people wouldn’t hear anything more than a song, anything more than a few hastily chosen notes, he knew that Mina wasn’t most people.