#paranoid-fighter writes original fiction

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction - Teaser: Meet Vincent

After an unwanted hiatus, have some of the introduction of Vincent into the Geoff story: 

Vincent watched through the small window as Geoff sped out of the parking lot and was somewhat surprised that he didn't hear the sounds of squealing tires. He let out a long sigh before picking up their glasses and downing the rest of Geoff's beer in two swallows. This scenario wasn't anything new, really; every time he and Geoff came close to having an intimate moment, Geoff would run away.

That's how it had been for the past two years and he didn't see it changing any time soon.

He pulled his gaze away from the door and stared down at his own glass. He didn't need a refill, but he didn't feel like sitting in the back of the brewery and drinking alone. He tried to push his frustrations aside as he made his way to the bar and settled himself down on a stool at the far corner before taking another long drink.

The moment his empty glass hit the counter top, Zelig skipped over to Vincent. "Another stout?" The bartender asked as he took the glass and placed it with the others that were waiting to be washed.

Vincent waved his hand. "I will pass; I finished off Geoff's beer."

"Damn; he didn't even finish it?"

He shook his head. "He panicked. Again."

"...explains why I saw him running." Zelig nodded, solemnly. "Well, then; any idea what you're going to do about that?"

He shook his head again. "I cannot think of any more signals to give him. It is not in my nature to fall over myself for someone, but if I were trying any harder, I fear I would, quite literally, fall on him."

"Have you considered trying it? Might work." He grinned as Vincent fixed him with a dry stare. "Fine; be that way." Zelig crossed his arms and lowered his head in thought. He rubbed his chin for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Got it. Since you won't face-plant on him, I'll signal him." He picked up two rags from under the counter and held them aloft with outstretched arms. "I mean, I don't know the proper signals or anything, but I'm sure I could figure something out!" His smile grew as he waved the rags around.

Vincent, despite himself, laughed. "How about this: if he does not kiss me within the next year, you can try signaling, alright?"

"Sounds good. Gives me time to practice, too." Zelig lowered the rags as he glanced at the rest of the bar. "You need anything before I get back to work?"

"Actually, yes. Another stout would be lovely. And the check, too, please."

"You got it, bossman."

"I told you not to call me that."

"Alrighty, Hank." Zelig winked before walking away.

Vincent's smile lasted through the next stout and through paying for the drinks. He didn't comment that the count on the receipt wasn't accurate, chalking it up to the fact Geoff had arranged the whole cold room for the bartender - surely that was worth a pint or two, he mused as he signed his name with a flourish.

Catching Zelig's eye, he slid the receipt across the bar and tapped two fingers to his brow in faux salute, a gesture mirrored by the bartender. He stood up from his stool and made his way through the diverse crowd of construction workers and suburban families, musing, as he always did, that the bow-tie wearing bartender simply couldn't be any more out of place than if he tried.

And yet, he glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door, the eccentric and outdated bartender was just another part of the oddity that was Five Birds Brewing. The wayward and occasionally chaotic brewery always managed to be a place for people to find refuge, even if they didn't know they needed it.

Geoff had certainly found refuge here, years ago. And, recently, Vincent had, too.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he made his way through the parking lot. He couldn't lose himself to sentimentality now, not when he had to go and see Jean-Claude. The vampire would be able to smell it on him like a cheap cologne and the last thing he needed was for Jean-Claude to start talking about the past. Combined with the mounting frustrations caused by Geoff (or, rather, the frustrations caused by therelackof), Vincent didn't fully trust the persuasive vampire - or himself.

Especially if Jean-Claude did that thing with his tongue that still eluded his comprehension, well over half a century later.

This wasn't to say, though, that he was ready to cast the werewolf aside - quite the contrary, in fact. He had feelings for Geoff and, on some days, he had too many. The thought made him frown as he made his way through the packed parking lot. He liked Geoff a great deal and, dare he even think it, he might actually be in love with him. He couldn't know that second part for certain, though, considering they still hadn't shared a kiss. And, at the rate Geoff was going, Vincent had a feeling they would somehow end up moving in together, adopting a pack of dogs, growing a rose garden and aging a few decades before Geoff asked Vincent to be his boyfriend.

They might even share a kiss then.

Vincent would accept Geoff's offer before respond in kind, of course, and would merely regard the passing years with the same amount of interest one to gives a pigeon bobbing its way through a crowd.

His blaise attitude wasn't for a lack of love, no. It was just that time just meant very little to an elf.

Especially to an elf that had died seventy-one years ago...

...well, he conceded, had mostly died seventy-one years ago, or something like that; he wasn't completely dead yet and that was the important part. He still didn't understand what had happened, but Scylla could, had and would continue to explain it, he thought as he came to stand by his car. His sister always had a knack for knowing about things that were less than fully alive.

"I should tell you to be careful with Geoff; he still has a pulse," he mumbled as he stared down at his reflection, at the tie that Geoff had sworn he was trying to adjust. He did believe that Geoff had been adjusting his tie - if adjusting meant trying to remove it entirely.

Vincent quickly fixed the skewed knot before he smoothed out his ponytail that Geoff had been attempting to fix. He had a feeling that Geoff's motive had been to see the long hair hanging freely. It was the only explanation he could think of for why Geoff had almost broken the elastic band holding his hair in place.

With his tie and hair fixed, Vincent gave himself one more look-over before rolling his neck and shoulders with a long exhale as he closed his eyes. He stayed there for a moment, inhaling slowly as he opened his eyes. He met his reflection's gaze, at the grey eyes that had softened, at the posture that had lost its rigidity. It was a small change, really, and were just two of the many things that would differentiate Geoff's dear Vincent Anders from Vincent Antares.

The real change between the two Vincents would be seen in his speech and tone of voice; Vincent Antares had hardly any of the posh accent of Mr. Anders - despite Jean-Claude's constant - and occasionally brutal - tutelage.

[fatetrollsblog]

Purqun Tiahin Introduction!

fHello everyone and welcome to another introduction! We haven’t posted in a while because we are very lazy, but now that school started I will be looking forward to write more, as some kind of reward for my hard work :P I know none of you are actually reading us, but if one day we get well known maybe you will see how bad we are. Anyway, today I’ll be presenting the biggest nerd but also the strongest girl of the session, our purple blood Purqun Tiahin! As always I’ll be presenting according to the following with just a little change:

Basic informations and life stuff

Personality

Miscellaneous content and stuff about sburb

1.Basic Informations and life stuff:

Starting off with the basics of basic informations, Purqun Tiahin is a purple blooded troll, and as her blood caste shows, she’s a tall girl with long black hair. But who cares about appareances? Artists most probably, but I’m divaguing. This time, Purqun doesn’t mean aything I know of, as it was an oc I got by adopting her. Only her sprite and a few facts about her, and here I went creating her! 

Unlike other purple bloods, she despises violence, and is always looking for a calm place to stay. Thankfully, her hive is everything she could have ever asked for, it being an incredibly large castle, with about a fourth of it being a library. Indeed, Purqun is the kind of person you see either with a book, a lack of sleep, or their legs hugged to their chest. Since her life has been surrounded with books her whole life she not only like reading and staying up at day (???) to finish a book, but she also lives in a world of Pure Imagination. She likes fantasy books the most, with a cute romance between the hero and the princess. But she was put in such a place for obscure reasons. 

When her lusus picked her, she was forced to go live in that castle with her new grub. Vulturemom (purqun’s lusus) tried to keep her grub away from the world she was fated for, which is being the official writer of the Purple Chronics, a 24 volumes series, each about a purple sign, counting the adventures and prowesses of the Clown Church’s followers. Through the sweeps, after her lusus gave up on keeping her away from her destiny, she writes 3 of them, her ancestors, Chahut’s and Gamzee’s. But before finishind all of them, in her 9th sweep, she gets into sburb and she’ll understand how stupid this whole thing was, though she might tell you about the purple chronicles if you ask about it! 

Purqun is Namurr’s matesprite, and she met her thanks to her moirail who will be presented next by mod ral! Her kismesis has also been presented, and it is Mutirr! Indeed, through the game, Mutirr discovered that her descendant was dating a purple blood, and because of her own matesprite, she got to dislike highbloods, and as she got to really like her descendant, she couldn’t help but hate Purqun for dating her, so they both agreed to get into a kismesissitude.

2. Personality

First, I’d like you to imagine your life, away from any other life forms out of cockroaches and your bird mom, in a large castle you can’t explore. Purqun grew mad at this situation and decided to explore it all when she was just a kid and ended up getting lost where she was forbidden to go to: the library. After a few days in there, and after her lusus found her again, she became very curious about all of this, and started reading. Thanks to all the fictions she has read, she  has become a very open and kind hearted person, as it is told in adventures novels or love stories. She is a huge fan of love fictions, and she herself likes to write some in her free time.

The said free time is pretty small. Indeed, after finally getting interested in her duty as the writer of the Purple Chronicles, she was forced to spend at least 16 hours a day in her library to learn about different writing styles to be the most efficient possible while writing the different volumes. This also created some parts of her personality, like the fact that she is open but can also be very rude if she’s being interrupted in her work. Because of that she became paranoid, and her mental state was detoriating with time. But one day, as she was already managing the library, as a lot of highbloods were interested in her collection, a teal blooded girl came to ask about some book, and from this day, she kept coming times to times, and the two girls kept in touch and at one point much later, they got into a matespriteship, and maybe you’ve got that the teal blooded girl is actually Namurr.

Actually, a few weeks before, Purqun met a bronzeblood, and became moirail with him, and he saw that she didn’t have enough time to have friends so he decided to send one of his friends there for her! What a great friend really, he is so cute. But thanks to those two people, she got new friends, and came back to her original self, the open and kind hearted self. 

However, through the years, Purqun was like any other purple blood, very hot tempered. Even if she is nice to the people coming to get some books, she despises rude people, or very noisy people. In those case she could also be rude, but most of the time she’ll go straight for the kick in the butt out of the building, but given that her feet are covered by iron boots, I don’t think it would just leave a few marks. But like some people, she could either break things or take a bath, it would make her feel much more relaxed and calm her down $, releasing her from all the pression that’s put on her shoulders. 

3. Miscellaneous content and stuff about sburb

In sburb, Purqun was of great help to the team, as she was probably the tankiest of all the 12 trolls, and the closed range fighter. With her notebook&pencilkind as her strife specibi, she can combine both of them for defense and offense respectively, as she can make the pen as long as she wants or as hard as she wants with a bit of crafting, which helps when her favorite way of fighting is through throwing both of her weapons really hard at people. When they all entered their mediums, she got in the game thanks to the Fushia blood of the team and got the rust blood in, the two that you will see soon probably. I

 never mentionned it here, but she’s our sylph of life, as she’s literally a story teller. In a basic way, sylphs can tell you about their aspect and heal through or the aspect in particular to others. As a sylph of life, she is able to “heal life”, which means she can revive anyone, make someone old young again, cool stuff like that. Her medium is the Land of Snowdrops and Crowns (LoSaC), and surprisngly enough, there’s literally no crowns visible at the surface of the planet, which is covered in snow. Her quest is to find a way to get all of those crowns out of the snow, by either makig them all come at the surface or make all of the snow melt, at the price of disrupting the cold ecosystem for the consorts. 

Her fetch modus is pretty annoying, but quite interesting in my opinion. To retrieve an item out of her inventory, she needs to tell a story about the said object without saying what it is, and the most related item to the story will be taken out. 

Her whole look is inspired of coats gentlefolks used to wear in europe (and probably in america idk), and since I don’t want to add more pics in there, look for Julian from the Arcana game, he wears something like that. She also wears very big boots, kind of looking like equius’ but more of a steel and kicking hard type. 

I think that’s it folks for today, I’ll try making more content from now on, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to repost and like of course :P see you soon, next time i’ll introduce a character it will be my olive blooded fortune teller! 

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 10: “You’re not pretty!”

Alternatively titled as: the love interest has FINALLY been introduced!

"...home?"

Geoff raised his head, blinking owlishly as Griffith came to stand in front of his desk. "What?" "I asked if you were going to go home," the analyst smiled, "it's almost six, you know." "What?" "I said--" "It's almost six? Shit!" Geoff saved his work and put his laptop into sleep mode before jumping to his feet. "Shit! I'm gonna be late," he all but moaned as he scrambled for his keys and wallet, "shit, gonna be late. Shit...!" "Geoff--" Griffith could only stare as Geoff sprinted out of the room, listening to the Doppler effect of profanity that Geoff left in his wake...

The officer hurried through both the precinct and the parking lot as he fumbled for his keys. He hastily unlocked the driver's side door and flung himself into the seat. Cursing under his breath, he listened to the roar of the engine as he resisted the temptation to drive the car as it was meant to be driven. Instead, his car calmly drifted along with the slow flow of traffic while he himself all but frothed at the mouth with impatience...

Geoff's car all but skidded to a halt in his parking spot. He jogged through the parking deck and into the lobby, almost tripping over his feet from his haste. A quick glance at the elevators showed that they were all on the top floor of the building and, despite his frantic jabbing of the buttons, they didn't appear to be moving. Cursing again, he made his way to the stairwell and began the climb up to the top floor, taking the stairs two at a time in an effort to make it to his apartment as quickly as he could.

After the fifth floor, with four more floors remaining, he switched to taking only one stair at a time.

Gasping and sweating, he pulled himself up the last few stairs and dragged himself to his apartment. Geoff had scarcely made it over the threshold before launching his keys and wallet at the bowl by the door and rushing to his bedroom. A trail of clothes were left in his wake, haphazardly discarded as he made his way into the bathroom. He knew he desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes before he went to see Vincent. The last thing he wanted to do was show up in his uniform and risk being covered in bits of corpse; he was fairly confident that he hadn't gotten any pieces of Mr. Doe on him, but he wasn't willing to take that risk.

Especially not with Vincent.

As he waited for the water to warm, he read and reread the most recent texts from Vincent. Even though nothing out of the ordinary had been said, Geoff found himself unable to stop himself from scrolling through the conversation. Each message was another sign that Vincent was finally back. He hadn't realized just how long the month had been, nor had he realized just how much he missed seeing Vincent's smile. It wasn't a pretty smile, not by conventional standards, but his heart would always race whenever he saw that crooked smil--

--what?

He blinked as he looked up from his phone, frowning as he realized that the water had yet to warm up. Sighing, he adjusted the knob and looked back down at his phone as his thoughts resumed wandering...

...and wondering about Vincent.

Vincent, like his smile, wasn't pretty. At least, he wasn't pretty in the way that most elves seemed to be; there were just so many differences between Vincent and the average elf, little differences that kept Vincent from being "pretty."

And Geoff knew almost all of them by heart.

The most obvious difference was that Vincent had a heavier build; he was still a hair more slight than the average human male, but he definitely had a broader frame with far more muscle than most of his kind. Well, Geoff conceded, it at least appeared that way; he had yet to see Vincent in anything other than slacks and a button-down shirt. He could distinctly remember several different occasions where had seen the outline of muscle and could only imagine what other secrets lay behind the starched fabric--

Geoff put his phone on the counter as he frowned at the still-frigid water; it shouldn't take this long to heat up.

--and he found himself all but dying to know what Vincent looked like under those clothes.

Vincent was pale. There was simply no denying it. Even though he had only ever really seen Vincent's face, hands and neck, he could only imagine that Vincent's whole body was that same shade of alabaster. Or maybe, Geoff mused, Vincent wasn't really so pale and that he just looked like it because of his hair - which was another difference Geoff had memorized. Most elves that he had seen almost always wore their hair in some sort of elegant style, be it braids or with elaborate hairpieces that he swore were magic. Vincent, however, never wore his hair in anything other than a simple ponytail that was tied at the base of his neck. It suited Vincent, but Geoff found himself longing to see those locks hanging free. If Vincent's hair was out of that damn ponytail, he'd finally be able to tangle his hands into it and pull Vincent close--

Geoff stepped into the shower.

The icy water pelted him, freezing him to his very core within seconds. His shocked cry reverberated around the bathroom in a pitch that most sopranos could only ever dream of reaching. With his teeth clattering in his head, he tried to scrub himself clean from both the day and the thoughts of Vincent. There was no reason for him to be thinking of Vincent like this - no one thought about their best friend like that, right?

Right, Geoff nodded as he stepped out of the shower and began to dry himself off. It just wasn't right to think about Vincent like that; Vincent was his very best friend and he didn't need to think about how Vincent's grey eyes sparkled when he laughed or about how Vincent's crooked smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen--

"Goddammit!" Geoff snarled as he stared down at his erection, half-wondering how it had already recovered from its trip to the Arctic Circle. "I don't have time for this," he said as hurried to dry himself off, all while trying to ignore the growing predicament he found himself in. As loathe as he was to admit it, he wasn't a stranger to this scenario. There had been more than a few times now where his thoughts of Vincent had resulted in him taking matters into his own hands. However, it usually happened at a more convenient time, such as late at night when his thoughts of Vincent kept him awake and made him ever-so-keenly aware of just how large and empty his bed was...

He dressed as quickly as he had showered, pulling on the first things he laid his hands on that weren't lying on the bedroom floor. He scarcely attempted to tame his hair by, more or less, throwing a brush in the general vicinity of his head before rushing out of the bedroom and back to the front door. He pulled on his shoes, stumbling and overbalancing in his haste, before grabbing his keys and wallet... only to double back and grab his phone.

Cursing himself, Geoff ran back to the front door and made his way to the stairwell. He didn't want to take the stairs, but he only had twenty minutes to make the twenty three minute drive out to the brewery and the elevators were now stopped on the first floor. He thundered down flight after flight and out into the parking garage, whereupon he dove into the driver's seat. He took a deep breath and carefully put his keys into the ignition, forcing himself to calm as he backed out of his parking spot. Just like the drive home, he wanted nothing more than to put the pedal to the floor, but he made himself drive like any other law-abiding citizen - one that just so happened to speed ever-so-slightly...

With mere miles to go, Geoff's frantic thoughts began to slow as he stared at the familiar landmarks while inching through traffic. Even though the brewery was just mere minutes away from the busy highway, the atmosphere of Five Birds was as calm and tranquil as the thick trees that surrounded it. Those trees were probably why Vincent enjoyed the brewery, Geoff thought as he stared up at a towering pine - Vincent was happy whenever he was surrounded by greenery.

Geoff's car slowly rolled up to the intersection as his pulse quickened. All he had to do now was make it through this stop light, drive another mile and then he'd be there. Vincent was probably already there, too; it was two minutes past the hour and Geoff had never known Vincent to be late for anything. He had a feeling Vincent might give him grief for being late, but he knew the elf would be smiling that crooked smile--

That smile.

That goddamn smile.

"It's not a pretty smile," he told himself as he stared up at the stoplight, "and he's not pretty. Not at all. He's got a broken nose, his face's half paralyzed, he's broad-shouldered, he's paler than a corpse..." His thumbs tapped the steering wheel. "And I don't think he's pretty. Because he's not. And I don't like things that aren't pretty. I like pretty things--girls. I like pretty girls. Yes." He could hear his blood rushing in his ears as his stomach squirmed.

It was a half truth, but it was a half truth that felt sour on his tongue.

He liked pretty things, yes, but he didn't actually like pretty girls. He didn't even like pretty guys. No, he especially didn't like pretty guys.

He liked--

The light turned green.

Geoff's tires squealed as he sped through the intersection and made his way down the tree-lined street...

With his car parked, Geoff gave himself a quick mental shake before stepping out into the warm night air. It was finally time to see Vincent again. Vincent's month long trip was finally. They were about to have a beer together, maybe a few, and Geoff would get to talk with his best friend again.

He opened the door and stepped inside, only to fall still as he looked around the crowded bar.

There was a suit-clad man sitting at the bar with a long, black ponytail resting over his wool jacket.

He knew that ponytail anywhere.

That pretty ponytail, darker than night and smoother than silk--

"You're not pretty!"

Vincent blinked and stared over his shoulder at Geoff. "What?" "Shit! I said that out loud. Fuck. No. You're not pretty." Geoff swept his hands through his hair as his gaze fell to his feet. "I mean, you're beautiful. You're so goddamn beautiful. Your smile makes my heart pound and my brain go dumb--fuck! Shut up!" Geoff let out a frustrated whimper as he stared at his feet. "I mean--" "Do you want to start over?" Vincent asked kindly as he sipped his beer. "Please," Geoff whined. "Alright. Take your time; start again whenever you are ready." Vincent turned away as he motioned for the bartender to pour Geoff a drink.

Geoff took a few steps away and, after several deep breaths, walked back up to the elf. "Hey, Vince! Long time, no see. How was your trip?" Grinning his crooked grin, Vincent turned on his stool to face Geoff. "It was--" "Holy shit, you're /not/ pretty!" He breathed as he stared at the spectacular bruises covering half of Vincent's face. "What the fuck happened? Are you okay?" He raised a hand as if to touch the elf's face, but quickly shoved his hand into his pocket.

"Nice to see you, too. My trip went well, for the most part." Vincent took the second beer from the bartender and placed it in front of the empty stool beside him. He hid his smile as Geoff sat down next to him. "As for what happened, this is the result of a very skittish horse being taken on its first fox hunt." "What?" Geoff frowned as he sipped his beer - a honey wheat, brewed with local honey. "A fox hunt? You went on a fox hunt?" "The plan had been for me to attend, yes, but I found myself sitting in the first aid station instead." "Why were you going on a fox hunt? Where were you?" "I was in England. As for the fox hunt," he sipped his porter, "it was part of a client's attempt to win me over. It did not work." "Why? Was it because of the fox hunt?" "Oh, no, not at all. Well, maybe a little," Vincent smiled into his beer. "The truth is that the company was severely lacking in security controls and seemed to only operate on good hope. They did not make for a promising investment." "How'd you figure that out?" "Through what I can only describe as a month-long audit." "And a fox hunt." Geoff grinned. "...and a fox hunt," Vincent agreed as he sipped his beer. "And, I must say, the fox hunt was the best part of the entire trip. The owners of the company were quite trying." He sighed and shook his head before looking back to Geoff. "How have you been? How have the past few weeks treated you?"

Geoff opened his mouth to speak, only to flush as his stomach grumbled. He glanced quickly over at Vincent and felt himself blushing more as Vincent raised an eyebrow; of course the elf would be able to hear his rumbling gut over the din of the bar... "You have not ordered yet?" Vincent asked. Geoff shook his head. "Nah. Wanted to come see you first." "But Timmy's Tots is your favorite--" "I rather see you," the words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop himself. Vincent fixed him with his pale grey eyes before smiling; the right half of his mouth slowly curled upwards to match the left. "Well, then. Let us go and order." He stood up and looked down to Geoff. "Let me pay tonight; I promised you drinks, but let me buy you dinner, too. It is the least I can do to apologize for my sudden departure." "Why are you apologizing?" Geoff asked as he took to his feet, taking both of their drinks without even realizing he had done so. "You're making it sound like you didn't want to do this." "You are right," Vincent spoke over his shoulder, already making his way to the door, "I did not want to do this, but the owners finally came back to me with dates for the audit. I think they were expecting me to decline because of the short notice." "Well that's just poor planning on their part." Geoff grinned as Vincent threw him a wink. "You know, I think I see now why you didn't want to invest in them. No security controls and banking on last minute plans? Yeah, those're bad business practices." "That, and their main collateral was a very old bottle of wine." "You're joking." Geoff stared at Vincent as they stepped outside. "Seriously? They were using wine?" "Indeed they were - a rare bottle from an elven vintner." "I didn't even know you could use wine as collateral..." Vincent laughed. "You would be surprised to know what you can use as collateral."

Geoff continued staring at the elf as they made their way up to the truck. "You know, the more you tell me, the less sense this world makes. Wine as collateral... what next? Snack cakes?" Geoff stared at Vincent as the elf suddenly became very interested in gravel at his feet while biting back a smile. "You've seriously seen someone who tried to use snack cakes?" Vincent poked at a piece of granite with the tip of his shoe. "Not the cakes themselves - the recipes. But that was a long time ago and, surprisingly, Puppy Paw Cakes has done quite well for itself." He smiled as Geoff came to stand beside him in the line for the food truck...

With their orders placed, they settled themselves down at one of the picnic tables in the biergarten. Geoff idly rolled the pager from the food truck between his hands as he tried to look at both Vincent and everything that wasn't Vincent. After a few exchanges comprising of awkward stares and shy smiles whenever Vincent caught him staring, he let his gaze fall down to the table as he stayed quiet; in truth, he didn't trust himself to speak, for fear of blurting out even more embarrassing statements.

Unfortunately, Vincent wasn't letting him stay quiet.

"You never told me how the month has gone for you. How is work? Your pack?" "Pack's all fine. We went on a little trip to Raphael's cabin and spent the nights there. Saw some deer, ate some venison. It was a good time." Geoff gave a half-hearted smile as he continued to stare at the table. "As for work, it's gotten interesting." "Oh? A new case?" "Yeah. A new job, actually. Well, a temporary one. I'm doing some special work right now for the lieutenant. If he likes how I handle it, it might become my permanent job." "What are you doing?"

Geoff hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Vincent already knew about werewolves and Geoff was sure the elf knew about vampires. And, by that logic, Vincent probably also knew about ghouls and other unsavory things. He licked his lips before placing the pager down on the table. "You know what ghouls are, yeah?" Vincent nodded. "Well, previously we had someone tracking them down. She's, uh, retired. At least, that's the story they're telling us. She retired and they needed someone to take over the work. They picked me. Well, I say they picked me. I think someone else pulled some strings to get me picked. I mean, I don't think I'm the best for it, but I'm gonna try hard to get this figured out." "Pulled some strings?" Vincent frowned. "I am afraid I am not following." "I don't really want to name him, but, uh," he tapped his thumb on the table as he thought through his words, "someone made a call to Clifford and convinced him I was a good fit for this. Actually," he shot Vincent a glance, "you might know the elf that made the call." "Just because I am an elf does not mean that I know all the elves in this city." Vincent frowned. "You sure?" Geoff grinned. "I mean, isn't there, like, a mailing list or something? Monthly meetings?" "Oh, ha hah," Vincent rolled his eyes as he took another drink. "So, does that mean you know Jean-Claude?" "Daemonis?" Vincent continued to frown. Geoff nodded and barked a laugh as the elf sighed. "You do know him!" "I... yes." Vincent slowly admitted. "I do know him. Sometimes I regret it--" "So you do know every--" "That was a bad example," he huffed, "and should not be counted." "Whatever you say, Vince." Geoff winked. "So when's the next meeting?"

Vincent snatched the pager from Geoff's hands as it began to beep. He stood up without another word and all but marched himself back to the food truck. Geoff watched Vincent retreating back - and backside - as he sipped his beer. As fun as it was to ruffle Vincent's feathers, watching his reactions were even more enjoyable; he always liked seeing Vincent's stoic facade slip, even if it only lasted for a few seconds.

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction - Teaser: Scylla’s Introduction

I got quite a bit done today. I introduced Scylla, at long last, and am quite proud of myself. This is still a rough draft, but I wanted to share. 

Geoff had grown up on a steady diet of film noir and detective novels. He knew the tropes like the back of his hand but never found them tiring - quite the opposite, in fact. His love of noir played a large part in his becoming an officer of the law. He wanted to be that private eye, a retired detective who wasn't ready to retire. He'd become a mysterious figure after he left the force. There'd be secrets hidden behind eyes that had seen far too much for so short a life. He had wanted to be sitting in his office, waiting for that life-changing person to walk in. It was always a dame in his novels. A dame who ended up in a bad way and needed the detective's help. A dame that was teary-eyed or had a stern face and a plan. And that dame always looked like trouble.

In all his years, he had never met a woman who looked like trouble. Even Brittany and Allison never looked like trouble and they were some of the fiercest women he knew. The only person he had met that even came close to looking like trouble was Vincent. Vincent carried himself like he was trouble; there was something behind those silver eyes that had and continued to defy explanation.

But Vincent wasn't trouble. Vincent was just Vincent.

As Geoff turned to face the smoky voice, he knew that he had finally met the dame who looked like trouble.

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 14: “Be careful with Geoff whenever you see him; he still has a pulse,”

Meet Vincent!

Vincent watched through the small window as Geoff sped out of the parking lot and was somewhat surprised that he didn't hear the sounds of squealing tires. He let out a long sigh before picking up their glasses and downing the rest of Geoff's beer in two swallows. This scenario wasn't anything new, really; every time he and Geoff came close to having an intimate moment, Geoff would run away.

After all, that's how it had been for the past two years and he didn't see it changing any time soon.

He pulled his gaze away from the door and stared down at his own glass. He didn't need a refill, but he didn't feel like sitting in the back of the brewery and drinking alone. He tried to push his frustrations aside as he made his way to the bar and settled himself down on a stool at the far corner before taking another long drink...

The moment his empty glass hit the countertop, Zelig skipped over to Vincent. "Another stout?" The bartender asked as he took the glass and placed it with the other dirty ones. Vincent waved his hand. "I will pass; I finished off Geoff's beer." "Damn; he didn't even finish it?" He shook his head. "He panicked. Again." "...explains why I saw him running." Zelig nodded, solemnly. "Well, then... any idea what you're going to do about that?" Another shake. "I cannot think of any more signals to give him. It is not in my nature to fall over myself for someone, but if I were trying any harder, I fear I would, quite literally, fall on him." "Have you considered trying it? Might work." He grinned as Vincent fixed him with a dry stare. "Fine; be that way." Zelig crossed his arms and lowered his head in thought. He rubbed his chin for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Got it. Since you won't faceplant on him, I'll signal him." He picked up two rags from under the counter and held them aloft. "I mean, I don't know the proper signals or anything, but I'm sure I could figure something out!" His smile grew as he waved the rags around.

Vincent, despite his sour mood, laughed. "How about this: if he does not kiss me within the next year, you can try signaling, alright?" "Sounds good. Gives me time to practice, too." Zelig lowered the rags as he glanced at the rest of the bar. "You need anything before I get back to work?" "On second thought, yes. Another stout would be lovely. And the check, too, please." "You got it, bossman." "I told you not to call me that." "Alrighty, Hank." Zelig winked before walking away.

Vincent's smile lasted through the next stout and through paying for the drinks. He didn't comment that the bill wasn't accurate, chalking it up to the fact Geoff had arranged the whole cold room for the bartender - surely that was worth a pint or two, he nodded as he signed his name with a flourish.

Catching Zelig's eye, he slid the receipt across the bar and tapped two fingers to his brow in faux salute, a gesture mirrored by the bartender. He stood up from his stool and made his way through the diverse crowd of construction workers and suburban families, musing, as he always did, that the bow-tie wearing bartender simply couldn't be any more out of place.

And yet, he glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door, the eccentric and outdated bartender was just another part of the oddity that was Five Birds Brewing. The wayward and occasionally chaotic brewery always managed to be a place for people to find refuge, even if they didn't know they needed it.

Geoff had certainly found refuge here, years ago. And, recently, so did he.

He pushed the thoughts away as he made his way through the parking lot. He couldn't lose himself to sentimentality now, not when he had to go see Jean-Claude. The vampire would be able to smell it on him like a cheap cologne and the last thing he needed was for Jean-Claude to start talking about the past. Combined with the mounting frustrations caused by Geoff (or, rather, the frustrations caused by therelackof), Vincent didn't fully trust the persuasive vampire - or himself.

Especially if Jean-Claude did that thing with his tongue that still eluded his comprehension well over half a century later.

This wasn't to say, though, that Vincent was ready to cast the werewolf aside - quite the contrary, in fact. He had feelings for Geoff and, on some days, he had too many. The thought made him frown as he made his way through the packed parking lot. He liked Geoff a great deal and, dare he even think it, he might actually be in love with him. He couldn't know that second part for certain, though, considering they still hadn't talked about the nature of their friendship or shared a kiss. And, at the rate Geoff was going, Vincent had a feeling they would somehow end up moving in together, adopting a pack of dogs, growing a rose garden and aging a few decades before Geoff asked Vincent to be his boyfriend.

They might even share a kiss then.

Vincent would accept Geoff's offer before responding in kind, of course, and would merely regard the passing years with the same amount of interest one to gives a pigeon bobbing its way through a crowd.

The blaise attitude wasn't for a lack of love, though; it was just that time just meant very little to an elf.

Especially to an elf that had died seventy-one years ago...

...well, he conceded, had mostly died seventy-one years ago. He wasn't completely dead yet and that was the important part. He still didn't understand what had happened, but Scylla could, had and would continue to explain it. As loathe as he was to admit it, he had become one of her favorite test subjects and she found him endlessly intriguing. From a professional standpoint, it made sense that the necromancer would like to study him, but from a familial stance, her fascination with his state of existence was, for lack of a better word, disturbing.   "Be careful with Geoff whenever you see him; he still has a pulse," he mumbled as he stared down at his reflection in his car's window, at the tie that Geoff had sworn he was trying to adjust. He did believe that Geoff had been adjuting it - if adjusting meant trying to remove it entirely.

Vincent quickly fixed the skewed knot before smoothing out the ponytail that Geoff had been attempting to fix. He had a feeling that Geoff's motive had been to see the long hair hanging freely but couldn't find a discrete way to remove the hair tie. It was the only explanation he could think of for why Geoff had almost broken the elastic band holding his hair in place.

With his tie and hair fixed, Vincent gave himself one more look-over before rolling his neck and shoulders. He closed his eyes and let his shoulders sag. He stayed there for a moment, inhaling slowly as he refocused his gaze on his reflection. His grey eyes had ever-so-slightly hardened and his posture had replaced its formality with coiled tension. It was a subtle change, really, and were just two of the many things that could differentiate Geoff's dear Vincent Anders from Vincent Antares.

The real change between the two Vincents would be found in his speech and tone of voice; Vincent Antares had hardly any of the posh accent of Mr. Anders - despite Jean-Claude's constant - and occasionally brutal - tutelage.

"Well, let's get to it, then," Vincent grumbled as he unlocked the car door and slid into the driver's seat. "Delaying the inevitable won't make it better..."

Jean-Claude did not turn around as the door to his bedroom was opened. He stayed sitting in his armchair, staring down at his notebook, as Mansfreid announced his visitor before leaving the two men alone. "I thought you would have wanted to delay this meeting." Jean-Claude's voice was disinterested as his pencil scratched over the paper. "You did just return this morning and you have had a busy day." "This couldn't wait." "I disagree, but I will not argue with you on this topic. I fear that we will be arguing plenty in just a moment." He slowly closed the notebook and placed it on the small table next to his chair. "We wouldn't have to argue if you had just listened to me in the first place." "Listened?" He echoed incredulously. "I did listen. In fact," an emory board was procured from within the folds of his shirt,"I did exactly what you wanted." Jean-Claude did not look at Vincent when Vincent came to stand in front of him; his eyes were focused on the tips of his nails as he trailed them along the board. "I have given this work to Geoff, since Elizabeth is no longer capable." "I didn't want him for this, Jean-Claude."

Jean-Claude's manicured brows knitted. "You did not? But you said--" "I said anyone but Geoff." "You did?" Vincent nodded. "Well, you could have made that clearer." He waved his nail file dismissively. "Or," he frowned as he finally met Vincent's gaze, "you could have told me that more than once. We were both grieving, matou, and we were both drinking heavily when we discussed this. Why did you never reiterate your wishes?" "Because you told me you had it taken care of." "Ah." Jean-Claude sighed. "Well, I apologize," he said without any hint of an actual apology, "but, I must still disagree. I cannot think of anyone who is better suited for this work. As a werewolf, he will be able to see more than a regular human and he is already familiar with the undercurrents that rule our world." "It's too dangerous, Jean-Claude, and you know it. It's too dangerous and he's too naive. He'll get himself killed. He'll insist on doing everthing by the rules and it'll get him killed." "I think you should have more faith in him. He is a sharp man and a skilled officer. He will be able to do what Elizabeth did." "Why didn't you just bring her back? She seemed to know what was happening." "Matou, that is cruel, even for you. You know what the ghouls did to her. You know she cannot even speak now. Her wounds are healed, but only the physical ones. When I visit her, she is still unable to talk. She is terrified, Vincent. I will not torture her by forcing her to go out and finish this work." "Then get someone else," Vincent snapped as he began to pace, "anyone but Geoff. We can't afford for him to get killed. His pack needs him. We need him."

Jean-Claude frowned as he watched Vincent. "My, my, you are protective of him. I have not seen you like this in a very long time. What is so special about him to make you act like this? I did not think you would care." "He's a friend, Jean-Claude. One of the best ones I have." "I see." Jean-Claude's gaze darkened. "And what of me? You do not seem to care that I, too, am working on this case and am risking myself each and every time I go out for a hunt." "It's different and you know it." "I do not believe I do, no." He stared up at Vincent as the elf fell still. "So enlighten me, Vincent; why are you so adamant that he not do this work?" "I--" Vincent shook his head. "No. I don't have to explain this to you. Just help me get him off this case. Get someone else to do it. Anyone but him." "No."

"No?" Vincent blinked. "What do you mean, no?" "No, I will not reassign this case. I have the man that I want working it and I know he will be the one to solve it. And, dare I say, you know it, too. You know how Geoff is. Once he gets his teeth into something, he will not let go. Not until he is satisfied." Vincent scowled. "I know that. Trust me, I know. I just don't want the ghouls to get their teeth into him!" "I see." Jean-Claude leaned back in his chair as his hands came to rest on his stomach. "Matou, you look haggard. Sit; have a drink." Vincent shook his head. "Not the time for that and you know it. This is just getting worse, Jean-Claude, and--" "And what?" Vincent's mouth opened several times before he sighed. "I don't want him doing this. I don't want him getting hurt." "I know you are used to getting your way with things, matou, but I will not bow to your wishes now."

Vincent's expression softened as he stood before the vampire. "Please, Jean-Claude." He shook his head. "Jean..." Vincent stepped closer and stared down at the vampire as he swept a hand over Jean-Claude's hair. He felt Jean-Claude leaning into the touch as he slowly sat down on Jean-Claude's lap. His other hand joined the first; his fingers tangled into the wavy brown locks. Vincent bent down, his lips brushing against Jean-Claude's as the vampire's eyes closed. "Have you finally returned to your senses, Vincent?" The vampire smiled. "Have you tired of your dalliances with the humans? Are you ready to come back?" "Maybe I am," Vincent whispered, "maybe this tomcat's finally coming home--" "About time." "--or maybe," he suddenly pulled Jean-Claude's head back with a snarl, "I am going to force you to fix this situation--"

Vincent blinked as he found himself lying on his back on the floor with blood trickling from his already-fractured nose.

Jean-Claude stood up and pulled a kercheif from his pocket. He dabbed at the blood on his forehead as he stared down at Vincent. "Matou, did you truly think that would work?" "I had hoped," Vincent's voice was thick with pain and blood. "Really? Then hopefully that knocked some sense back into your head." He glanced down at the white linen, now dotted with blood. "After all, you went from arguing to attempting to woo me far too quickly." He shook his head with a sigh. "I have never seen you like this before and, I must say, do not care for it." He shook his head. "What has gotten into you, Vincent? Have you forgotten your station?" "How could I?" Vincent grumbled as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "I'm never able to escape it." The vampire gave a short laugh. "Indeed, you are not. So, matou, tell me; what has brought on this change? Why are you acting out?" "I told you. I don't want Geoff working this case." Jean-Claude rolled his eyes. "I did not expect you to care about a human like this. If I did not know any better, I would say that you love--" His eyes went wide as he stared down the elf. "Vincent, are you in love with him?" "What?" "Oh, matou, no. No, I cannot allow this." "I'm not--" "Do not lie to me, Vincent; I know you too well for you to do that." Vincent scowled; Jean-Claude was right. "Vincent, what are you doing? Do I need to remind you that he is all the things that you are not?" "I'm aware, trust me." "I do not think you are!" Jean-Claude snapped. "He is a werewolf, a human and an officer of the law. And you. You! You are none of these things. You were once an elf, but that changed--" "I know!" "Does he know your heart no longer beats? Does he know what you do, what you are?" "No--" "Why are you doing this? Do you think you will be able to regain what you lost?" "I--" "He cannot give you a normal life. You are only setting yourself up for pain, Vincent." Jean-Claude knelt down before him, staring into the pale eyes. "Please, matou, do not do this to yourself. He is not worth it." "He isn't?" Vincent shook his head. "You're wrong. He is--" "But--" "--and that's why I don't want him working this case. I can't risk him getting hurt." "No." "Jean, please," Vincent whispered. "No, Vincent. I cannot and I will not. We have lost too much time already. I cannot afford to spend months looking for another to do this work just because you want to keep him sheltered."

Vincent's face fell as he watched Jean-Claude push himself to his feet. "Please..." "No. And do not beg - it does not become you. At least, not when you beg like this." He held out a hand to the other man. "Why do you care for him, Vincent? What can he give you that I could not, did not?" Vincent let himself be pulled to his feet. "Don't make me answer, Jean..." "I have half a mind to make you do just that, but I will not. You are already aching." He gave the pocket square to Vincent. "But answer me this: what lies have you told him? Does he even know your name?"

Vincent wiped the blood from his face as he stared at his shoes. "He knows my name's Vincent, but... I've told him I'm a stock trader. And that I travel to audit companies I want to invest in." "And he believes that?" "Apparently." Jean-Claude rubbed his temples. "Maybe he is not as smart as I thought he was." He sighed. "A stock trader, Vincent? Is that the best you could do?" "It explains my trips." "And how did you explain this?" He gestured to Vincent's bruised face. "...I told him I went on a fox hunt and my horse panicked." "A fox hunt!" Jean-Claude wheeled around to face him. "Vincent, please; come to your senses! This is ridiculous. How many lies are you living?" "Not as many as you, Mirilas!" Vincent shouted before he could stop himself.

Jean-Claude stood straight as he stared at Vincent. "I see." "Jean--" "No. We are done, Vincent. This conversation is over." "But--" "We will talk tomorrow. For now, you must leave." Jean-Claude strode over to the bedroom door and opened it. "I am about to begin my nightly hunt for more ghouls. I suggest that you do the same. After all," he sneered, "Nocte will be helping Geoff soon enough. It would behoove Nocte to have an intimate knowledge of this situation if he is to keep the precious Geoff Simeon safe from harm." He fumed as he strapped his cane sword to his belt.

Vincent stared in disbelief before slowly walking to the door. "You are not going to tell him, are you?" Jean-Claude shook his head. "I will not say a word about this, Vincent. I will let you pilot your own course, even if it is destined for failure." Vincent's expression flattened as he strode past the vampire. "Glad to see you're so supportive." "Leave, matou. You have done enough harm tonight." "And if I don't?" "Do not make me hurt you, Vincent. Please."

Vincent blinked at the tone. He slowly turned, holding Jean-Claude's gaze. "Jean..." The vampire shook his head again. "Matou, you know what I would say. Even with all the decades that have passed, my feelings have not changed. My door is always open to you." "One day," Vincent whispered, "one day I'll return. But, for now..." he sighed,"I can't. I'm sorry, but..." "What can he give to you?" Jean-Claude's voice was pained. "I gave you everything you ever wanted." "I know, Jean, I know. But there's an honesty to him; he's earnest and endearing. He's just so happy to see me--" "And I was not?" "--and I know that if I don't do this now, I'll regret it forever." "I cannot convince you otherwise, can I?" Vincent smiled sadly as he shook his head. "Very well," Jean-Claude sighed. "I do not like this, matou, but I will not stop you. I know that stopping you never works." He closed the distance between their bodies, his forehead coming to rest against Vincent's. "You do know that I still love you, yes?" "I do," Vincent whispered.

They stayed together for a moment more before their eyes closed. Jean-Claude's lips pressed against Vincent's, his tongue slowly gaining purchase into Vincent's mouth as his arms wrapped around the suit-clad elf. Vincent leaned into the embrace, letting himself be kissed and held as decades of memories crashed over him...

When they stepped away, they held the other's gaze. "Are you still kicking me out?" Vincent asked with a half-smile. "No," Jean-Claude whispered, "I am not. But I must leave. I need to go looking for ghouls." "I'll join you, if you don't mind. As you said, Nocte needs to be familiar with this case." Vincent began following Jean-Claude through the halls. "If you do not want to hunt tonight, you could ask your sister for information. After all, she will be talking to Geoff soon enough." "Oh, lovely." He sighed. "Watch her steal him from me like she's stolen everyone else." "She did not steal me." "Because you don't even know how to have sex with a woman." "That is a lie. Elizabeth enjoyed it." "What?" Vincent stopped dead in his tracks. "Although, I will admit, I mostly just laid there. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it." He glanced over his shoulder and laughed at Vincent's expression. "What is wrong, matou? Am I not allowed to have my own fun?" "Oh, no, you are. I just can't believe you slept with a woman." "Would it help if I said that all I did was lie there and supply a penis for her to use?" "No and now this image is going to haunt me." "I do not see why--" "You had sex with a woman. That's just against the natural order of things."

Jean-Claude sighed. "Just because I prefer men does not mean that I do not enjoy the touch of a woman." "That's fine. I still say it's against the natural order of things." The vampire rolled his eyes as he resumed walking. "Come along, Vincent; we have work to do..."

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 7: “Oh. Great.”

Alternatively: Meet Fred.

(Trigger warnings: bodily harm, mutilation - Geoff has to investigate a corpse.)

The only consistent thing about crime scenes were the people.

There were always people.

They stood on the edges, behind the ribbon-laced barrier, staring and talking amongst themselves. He had learned not to pay them any mind as he worked, but they were always still there.

Watching.

Listening.

Talking.

They usually spoke in hushed whispers as they stared at the crime scene with looks of horror or confusion on their faces. Other times, their voices drowned out the din of the city as they shouted their frustrations to the world. And, sometimes, they would cry.

He hated when they cried.

There were plenty of sounds that Geoff hated - nails on chalkboards, dog whistles, the birds outside his bedroom window and plenty more besides - but the sound of a broken soul was, by far, the worst. Those cries could pierce through even the noisiest environments and would all but shatter the stone facade that Officer Simeon wore. He found himself longing to help those broken souls, to comfort them, and sometimes he did just that, sitting with them as he lent them a shoulder. Other times, he would simply do his job, knowing that his investigation would bring them the comfort that he himself could not provide.

Geoff stepped out of the squad car and stared at the scene just yards away.

The people were there, as they always were, and they were talking.

He squared his shoulders and walked towards the cordoned area. The men and women who had gathered around hardly paid any mind as he walked up to the shiny yellow ribbon and ducked under it. They stepped aside, scarcely adknowleding the officer - and why should they even notice him, Geoff frowned as an armored officer strode past him, when the area was crawling with SWAT?

He came to stand just before the doorway of the building, having tried and failed to identify the officer in charge of the scene. He didn't want to go further into the building without alerting someone else of his presense, but--

--that person had done nothing but stare at him ever since he arrived on the scene.

Geoff was used to this by now - he tended to draw stares - but this was different, felt different. That man wasn't just staring at him.

That man was looking for him.

Geoff began walking towards the staring stranger, frowning as the man gave him a slick grin before turning on his heel and walking towards a nearby alley.

He stopped and stared at the man's retreating back - why was he walking away? After all of that staring, he thought the man would at least want to--

Geoff's frown deepened as the the other man stopped and looked over his shoulder, brown eyes meeting Geoff's blue. If looks could kill, Geoff knew he'd be dead from the man's pointed stare.

With a quick glance around, Geoff ducked back under the flimsy barrier and followed the stranger as his hand came to rest on the pistol's grip. He knew this was a risky move, but he also had a feeling that this man wasn't here because he was curious about the crime scene...

"About time," the man said as he lit a cigarette. "Never thought I'd get you away from the rest of them." "What do you want?" Geoff asked. He blew a cloud of smoke over a denim-clad shoulder. "Just trying to give you a letter." "Who wrote it?" "Someone y'all are gonna get real familiar with here soon." "What?" Geoff's eyes narrowed. " You're getting a new ally soon, Alpha. He's one of ours. Sort of. He's gonna help y'all with this little sitch-e-ation." The vampire clamped down on the cigarette in his mouth. "We thought we could handle the ghouls, but we was wrong." His gaze returned to Geoff. "We're askin' you for help before we have to invoke the old bond."  "Old bond?" The stranger frowned. "The oath between yours and mine. Y'all know this. Was told you swore it, too." He took a step closer. "We're all fighting the same fight, 'specially since we got all them ghouls running around." Another draw from the cigarette. "Time's come for us to help each other. Well," he chuckled, "not you and me specifically, but you get what I'm saying, yeah?" He smiled, his fangs glinting in the shadows of the buildings. "Can I give y'all this damn letter now?"

Geoff's brow knit as he took a half-step forward. His hand never left his holstered gun. "You can put it on the ground and then keep walking down the alley." "That's it? That's how y'all're gonna treat me? I risk my own life to meet you at a crime scene crawling with cops and y'all won't even let me hand you a piece of paper?" "You're one of Jean-Claude's vampires, aren't you?" Geoff had a feeling he already knew the answer. "Yeah, he's my master, but he ain't my sire. He killed my sire." The vampire chuckled. "How'd you know I was one of his?" "Lucky guess." Geoff said flatly. "Now, where's this letter?" "Right here." He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his old jacket. "Come take it, Alpha. I ain't gonna bite you."

Geoff cast a quick glance around the alley before walking up to the vampire. He grabbed the letter out of the man's hand...

...and shoved it into his pocket.

"Y'all ain't even gonna read it?" The vampire sputtered. "Nope. Not right now. I'm here to look at the latest ghoul victim." "Ah. Yeah, got it." He exhaled, shoulders slumping with disappointment. "Just curious, though. I saw him writing it out and I'm real interested in what he said. Not often this guy shows up, let alone says something."  "What's this guy's name?" "Nocte." The name was stretched over three syllables. "Real secretive; spooky. Wears a mask." "A mask...?" He blinked before shaking his head. "Good to know." Geoff looked around the alley, frowning when he couldn't see the body. "What do you know about this victim, mister...?" "Fred." "Fred." Geoff echoed, staring at the vampire before him. "Hi, Fred. I'm Geoff." "I know." Geoff faltered before mentally shaking himself. "Alright; can you show me where the corpse is, Fred? I'd like to get this over and done with." "Sure thing; follow me. Body's not in the building, so we should be nice and alone while you work."

Geoff glanced over his shoulder at the empty alley and the armored vehicles on the street. "So the diversion was staged why, exactly?" A shrug. "Building was crawling with people. Now it ain't." "But the body wasn't inside, or so you said." "Well yeah, but there was people around the building, too. Now they ain't." Fred began walking. "'sides, I ain't the one that ordered the diversion. I was just told to wait for you."

The officer stared at the vampire's retreating back before falling into step behind him. This whole situation sat poorly with him, but he had no other options than to play along. Fred knew where the body was and had been told to wait for him - presumably by Jean-Claude. With a sigh, Geoff came to stand next to the vampire. "Y'all got a strong stomach?" Fred glanced over at him. "Yes." "Good. Y'all gonna need it; this ain't pretty." "I can handle it." Fred held his gaze for another moment before slowly nodding. "Alright. Body's just past the dumpster over there. Knock yourself out." He snuffed his cigarette out and flicked the butt into the dumpster. Lighting another cigarette, Fred walked away as Geoff pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and approached the body...

Fred joined him a moment later.

"Ghouls did a good job on him." Geoff said nothing as he took pictures of the corpse. "They always go for the soft flesh first. Ate the junk clean off before moving to the guts and thighs. Something stopped the feast before they got to the arms. They don't like the arms, though. Too much bone there, but they'll eat it if they're hungry enough. They always do. Better than hogs for that, y'know. Can't chew through bone like hogs can, but y'don't gotta starve ghouls to get 'em to eat a body."

Geoff paused at that, slowly turning to face Fred. "Really?" "What?" "You just compared ghouls to hogs." "Yup. It's a good comparison. Both'll eat anything if hungry enough. Hogs are smarter, though."  Another pause. "How much do you know about them?"  "Ghouls or hogs?" Fred laughed. "I know enough about both, but I know more about ghouls. Y'pick up a lot when you hunt 'em. There's some people that consider me an expert on 'em." He puffed his chest out. "Jean-Claude--" Geoff cringed at the brutalized pronunciation. "--himself called me up a few months back. Imagine my surprise, gettin' called by Master Daemonis himself," Fred continued on, oblivious to Geoff's grimace, "it was like winnin' the lottery. He sent a car for me and put me up in a nice place with good pay. Ever since then, I've been helping him hunt ghouls down, but I ain't been able to find the source. Well," Fred paused as he wiped some ash off his jacket, "the main source, that is. There's too many for just one nest." He held the cigarette between his teeth. "Was working with Elizabeth, y'know, but she got mauled." "Mauled? Jean said she had been attacked, but mauled?" "Yep. They worked her over right good and proper, they did. We got her safe, but, well, she ain't gonna be walking any time soon. Or ever." Fred shook his head as he exhaled. "Y'all better be careful, Geoff, or you'll end up just like her." "Understood..." Geoff finished taking his pictures and looked over to the vampire. "There's still more I need to do. Is there anything else you needed to tell me?" "Naw, that's it for now. Oh," he pulled a card out of his jacket pocket, "here. If you need me, give me a buzz."

Geoff took the card and stared at it. "You made business cards." "Man's gotta advertise." Fred grinned. "Well, Geoff, unless y'all gonna tell me what Nocte wrote, I'll see you later." Geoff hesitated but slowly took the letter and unfolded it as Fred all but trembled in anticipation.

The script was neat and uniform; it would've looked more at home on a computer screen than on the woven paper. "He wrote this?" Geoff asked in disbelief. "Yup. What's it say?" "Geoff, I have been tasked to help you with eradicating the ghouls. I will be in touch. Nocte." He frowned down at the paper. "That's ominous." "I wouldn't worry; Nocte's only dangerous if he's here to kill you."  "Oh. Great." Geoff's frown deepened as Fred laughed.

"Y'all have a good day, Geoff. Stay safe." The vampire turned and walked down the alley, leaving a very confused Geoff standing next to a mostly eaten corpse...

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Recipes from Grandmamma Nola

Just a little idea that hit me

Grandmamma Nola had a recipe for everything.

She kept each recipe locked away in her mind, never having bothered to commit them to paper. It felt like a waste, having all that knowledge stored behind her cat-eye glasses, and I decided to dedicate myself to the task of capturing all that she knew. I'd work for hours, teasing out recipes from behind her smile, and I'd try to write them all down before they were lost to the ages. "Don't try to write them down, kitten," Grandmamma said as she watched me scrawling in my journal, "these are recipes that you must memorize." "But there's so many!" "Then learn the ones you want." She closed her eyes as she settled herself back onto her bed. "But do not try to write them down. You'll find out later that they just aren't the same."

I frowned at that; what did she mean? I glanced back down at my notebook, at the ink that had yet to dry, and shook my head. She was just being obtuse, that's all.

"Tell me another one, Grandmamma, one of your favorites." "Very well," She laced her fingers together, palms resting on her bedspread, "have I already told you my recipe for fudge?" "Yes." "Then how about a recipe for my favorite cleanser?" "That sounds good." I scribbled down the word 'cleanser' and looked to her, "whenever you're ready."

I could tell she was tut-tutting me for writing, but she didn't stop me. "This works best with fresh rain water, but any water will do. Fill your favorite vessel and then add in the herbs. I always use elecampe..."

Grandmamma Nola had gone to sleep, leaving me alone with my journal once again. The ink was dry now and several more pages were filled. I'd need a new joural soon and the prospect of buying a new one made me happy in so many ways. A new journal meant that I had hundreds of recipes written down and it was an excuse to take Grandmamma back to my favorite stationary shop. Grandmamma liked the store, but always told me she had a recipe for paper and dyes that would look far better than what I could buy there.

I believed her, but I hadn't had the time to start making my own paper.

After all, time was precious.

There were only a few weeks left for my summer vacation and I still worked part time at a cafe. What hours weren't spent at work, I tried to spend by Grandmamma's side, talking with her and learning whatever I could. Sometimes she'd tell me she was tired and didn't want to teach, but those times were few and far between.

Grandmamma was usually happy to share her recipes; I could hear the joy in her voice each time she told me another one. My own mother hadn't been so keen on learning, she'd tell me, but I wasn't surprised. My mother didn't seem to put much time into making things herself.

"Just one of the many differences between you two," Grandmamma said as she stroked my hair, "but do not let it create a rift. She is still your mother, you know." I'd always nod and agree, letting Grandmamma play with my hair before I'd ask for another recipe...

I stared down at my journal and opened it. I flipped through the pages and let my eyes rove over the recipe for fudge. It was such a simple recipe, but that's what made it so delicious. Each ingredient had its own voice and added its own--

--wait.

I picked up the notebook and reread the page, frowning more as I stared at the ingredients list.

There was no way Grandmamma Nola would use white wine in her fudge.

I rubbed my eyes and stared at the page once again. "Butter," I read aloud, "chocolate, sweetened condensed milk..." I stared at the final line, "white wine. That can't be right. There's no wine in this. She never said wine."

I flipped to a different page and read the recipe for chicken pot pie.

Nothing was out of place for the pie crust - that read as simple and straightforward as could be. The rest of the recipe, though, was wrong. Despite being chicken pot pie, chicken wasn't listed anywhere in the ingredients. In its place was beef. And rutabegas.

I closed the notebook and stared at the wall. Had I been tired when I wrote these down? Had Grandmamma been confused? She was getting up there in age and I wouldn't be surprised if she was going senile. But, even if she was going senile, wouldn't I have caught it when I listened to her? I knew she had a hypnotic way of speaking, but I was sure I'd be able to tell her if she was trying to pass off a pot roast recipe as chicken pot pie...

My confusion stayed with me as I sipped a cup of spiced milk. Grandmamma told me it would help me sleep at night and, as usual, she was right. This was one of the first recipes I had written down, but I soon had it memorized. It was just milk, turmeric, cinnamon, ginger and honey with a little splash of vanilla. Like Grandmamma herself, I didn't measure out the ingredients whenever I made it - I just knew what was the right amount.

I drained the dregs from my mug and rinsed it out before walking back to the guest room I had made my own. I'd have to start packing up soon, but I didn't want to think on it - I'd heard only bad things about senior year and I didn't want to face that reality any sooner than I had to.

I also didn't like the idea of leaving Grandmamma Nola alone, even if she insisted she was fine...

My mind slowly stilled as I tucked myself into bed. I'd go over the recipes with Grandmamma tomorrow and we'd sort them out before I wrote down any more new ones.

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 9: “I don’t like it when people don’t cooperate.”

Frustrating investigations and uncooperative people make Geoff a sad boy...

 Geoff pushed open the door to small office and bit back a frown. He had been hoping to have a few minutes alone to process what he had just seen, but his hopes were dashed as he saw Griffith hunched over his desk. Geoff's shoulders drooped as he trudged into the room, all but dragging his feet as he went.

He stayed quiet as he sat down at his new desk. Most of his belongings were still in a small box beside his desk; the only things currently adorning the old desk were his laptop, mouse, keyboard, second monitor, a notebook and Elizabeth's ledger which he had left open with a pencil resting on the page. He had been planning to finish reading about the tenth ghoul attack she had handled, one that had happened just three months prior, but the afternoon's events had drastically changed that plan. He stared down at the woman's neat handwriting with unseeing eyes, his frown creasing his stubbled face. He wasn't sure what bothered him more - the fact everything she had outlined in her notes had carried over almost perfectly to what he had just seen or the fact that he had been confronted with a mutilated corpse. The only reason he could even look at the body was because the body had been eaten and not skinn--

"How'd it go?"

His head snapped up as he looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"How did it go?" Griffith asked again as he placed his wand on the desk. "I ran into Clifford on my way back from lunch. Judging by his expression, something happened - he looked like that whenever Elizabeth told him about an attack." He tilted his head, hazel eyes narrowing as he fixed Geoff with a scrutinizing gaze. "Say, you don't look so good - are you going to be sick?"

Geoff shook his head. "I'll be okay," he glanced back at Elizabeth's notes before looking back to Griffith. "You've worked with her for a while on this case, yeah?"

"Yes, but not officially. Why?"

"How'd everyone else get along with Elizabeth?"

Griffith opened his mouth before closing it promptly. He did so twice more before finally speaking. "Truthfully?" He sighed. "Her work was admired, but her people skills were noticeably lacking. She was brusque and, sometimes, downright rude. It put a lot of people off. It wasn't something I took personally, but that's just because I was used to her. Why do you ask?"

"Do you think that's why people weren't too happy to see me earlier? Or do you think it was just because I told them about a ghoul victim?"

"Most likely the latter." Griffith tucked a loose strand of hair behind his pointed ear. "I take it your first investigation didn't go so well?"

Geoff thought for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "I've been on good terms with Officer Caulfield and Sergeant Orsons for years, but they both shut down when I told them why I was there. Is that something I'm going to have to get used to?"

"I can't say for certain, but I have a feeling you might have to, yes." Griffith stared at Geoff for a moment before pushing himself away from his desk. "Do you want some coffee?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." Geoff's voice was distant as he turned to look back at the ledger. "I don't like this, Griffith. I don't like it when people don't cooperate. Don't get me wrong; I mean, I'm not unused treating me like shit when I'm on the job, but now I've got concerns for this case. If people don't want to work with me, it’s going to make it hard to find the root of this problem. Well, harder than it already is." Geoff slumped down in the chair as he closed the heavy notebook. "As helpful as her notes are, I'm still running blind and I can't afford to be blind on this. The ghouls aren't going to wait for me to come up to speed." He scrubbed at his face with a grimace. "Two days on the case and a new victim's already been found. I didn't know what I was doing - felt like I was just poking the vic with a stick!" He swept his hands through his hair before they came to rest on the back of his neck. "Hell, I still barely even know what a ghoul is..."

Geoff raised his head as Griffith came to stand beside him. The analyst handed Geoff an old mug with a small smile. "There's cream in the fridge, if you want some. As for your case," he sat on the edge of Geoff's desk, "I might be able to help." He took a sip from a mug adorned with a luridly floral pattern. "Elizabeth didn't know much about ghouls when she first started, you know. In fact, we didn't even have the collaboration with Jean-Claude when she first started this. Back then we thought she was just working a regular case, but we started noticing some trends with later cases. And not just trends with ghouls, either. Other undead, werewolves, things like that - they all kept coming up in investigations. People started coming to her with questions." He paused for a moment as he stared into his coffee. "Come to think of it, she was a little more friendly back then," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Regardless, she started doing this kind of work full time." Another sip. "But, for the longest time, there was a lot of stuff that she didn't know. Myself and the other arcane analsyts helped when we could, but sometimes all we could do was point her over to the local mage college. Several of the mages there helped her with her cases; I can't imagine they'd refuse to help you like they did with her." Griffith took another swallow before meeting Geoff's gaze. "If you'd like, I'll talk to my own contacts over there; one of them might be able to put you in touch with a necromancer."

Geoff stared at Griffith as he drank his own coffee, hiding his shock behind the obnoxiously yellow mug. He knew what Griffith was offering wasn't too overly unreasonable, but after his earlier encounter...?

"That'd be fantastic," Geoff said as he lowered the cup, "thank you. I need all the help I can get. I don't have years to get up to speed like Elizabeth did."

Griffith stood up and made his way back to his desk. "I'll put some calls in after work. If all goes well, I should have someone for you to talk to tomorrow. There's a particular necromancer that I want, but I'm not sure if you'll be able to see her."

"Oh? Who's that? And why don't you think I'll be able to see her?"

"Archmage Scylla Antares. As for why I think that: she's brilliant; I've never worked with anyone better. And, because she's so brilliant, she's almost never free."

Geoff blinked before taking another sip. "I think a first or second year student would be able to teach me just fine." He spoke around the mug, "I just need to know the basics for now; if she's as smart as you're saying, then it it seems like overkill to send me to someone like her."

"It might be overkill," Griffith conceded, "but if you're going to learn, you might as well learn from the best. Besides," he smiled, "I'd love the chance to talk with her again." He gave a wistful sigh as his gaze grew distant.

Geoff quirked an eyebrow as he stared at the daydreaming man before barking out a laugh. "I see how it is now; you just want to schmooze with her and you want to use me as your in, don't you?"

Griffith shrugged as his smile reached his eyes. "She's as beautiful as she is intelligent; it's hard to not want to talk to her."

"Well, if you manage to get me some time with her, I'll put in a good word for you. Sounds good?"

"Definitely." Griffith drained the last few drops from his cup. "I'll let you know tomorrow, okay?"

"Thanks, Griffith. Let me know when I can return the favor, alright?"

"Well--"

"A favor that isn't trying to get you dinner with her." Geoff gave an exaggerated wink - one that had Griffith rolling his eyes.

"Let a man dream," Griffith picked up his headphones, "anyway, back to the grindstone..."

"Yeah," Geoff turned to face his own desk again, "thanks again Griffith."

The arcane analyst merely nodded as he resumed his own work.

Geoff opened his laptop and began to type up his notes, determined to capture every single detail from the scene...

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 12 - “Too late. I’m concerned.”

Wow, been a long while since I posted something...

Vincent glanced up from his phone as Geoff came to stand in front of him, a full pint held in his outstretched hand. "Have you squared Zelig away?" Vincent took the beer as Geoff sat down next to him. "Yup," Geoff smiled, "he's all good now. The brewers really didn't do him any favors when they loaded up the cold room - the keg he needed was at the bottom of a stack." "Did you rearrange the whole cold room for him again?" "y-Yeah," Geoff's smile faded as he mumbled into his beer, "sorry it took so long." "That is alright; a few minutes of lost time is better than Zelig crushing himself under a keg." Vincent took one last glance at his phone before sending the text he had composed. "Unfortunately, we only have about forty five minutes or so until you need to leave to see Jean-Claude." "I know," Geoff sighed, "but I'm off this weekend. Want to meet up on Friday after I get off work?" "I would like that," Vincent's phone buzzed but he ignored it. "Where would you like to go?" "Well, we could go to Rosarie, if you wanted."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to go there or are you suggesting it because you know I like it?" "Because I want to go there." Geoff took a drink. "And I want to go watch monster trucks." "Okay," he admitted, "fine; I don't want to go to Rosarie. But we can go somewhere nice, if you want. I mean, it's only Wednesday; we got time to think on it." "Indeed." Geoff stared at the elf as he took another drink. "Are you mad at me?" He watched Vincent's face for any hint of a reaction but Vincent remained as expressionless as a tombstone - which was just as damning as an affirmative answer. "Vince..."

"Do not worry about it, Geoff," Vincent's voice was low, "I am not angry at you." "I don't believe you." "Geoff..." Vincent sighed and turned to face him. "You are my best friend and I have been looking forward to seeing you again ever since I left. Do not start this now, please. Let us just enjoy our drinks and the company. Please."

Geoff frowned as he stared at Vincent, at the pained light in the moon-pale eyes. "Vince," he bit his lip as he looked down at the couch, unable to hold the elf's gaze. "I'm sorry, Vincent. I'm... I'm try--I'm sorry." "I know you are," he placed a pale hand on Geoff's thigh. "Which is why I am not angry with you. I am not angry with you at all. Frustrated, yes, but I am not angry. If you must know, I am angry at another, one that I was talking with while you were helping Zelig." Geoff pulled his gaze from the hand on his leg. "Are you sure?" "I am."

He stared at Vincent for a few more moments, subconsciously licking his dry lips as he squirmed under the intense gaze. Slowly, very slowly, he raised a hand. His fingers brushed over Vincent's bruised cheek before coming to rest on his shoulder. He gently squeezed the strong arm before pulling Vincent into a hug and crushing the elf against his chest. He buried his face into Vincent's shoulder, into the black hair he longed to run his fingers through. Instead, his fingers dug into the starched shirt. His lips moved against Vincent's shoulder, mouthing the words he wanted to say but was unable to voice.

When Vincent's arms wrapped around him, his hands trembled. His arms tightened as the trembling spread to his whole body. This was almost every single thing that he wanted - the only thing that would've made it better would be if Vincent was naked and in his bed. He still wasn't sure what he'd do with Vincent in that scenario, but he had a feeling he'd enjoy figuring it out.

His eyes closed as he felt Vincent's lips pressing against the skin above his ear. He slowly turned his head and looked up at Vincent. "I missed you," he whispered. "I missed you too," Vincent smiled as he gently guided Geoff's head back to his shoulder. "But I am here now and I have no plans of leaving again for quite a long time." "You sure?" "Positive." Vincent held him a little tighter. "Good." Geoff closed his eyes as he let himself relax in Vincent's arms...

...for about two minutes.

"Your phone's buzzing," Geoff mumbled into Vincent's shoulder. "I know." "Do you need to take that?" "Not unless it is a phone call, because it might be work calling." Vincent glanced at the mop of crimson hair that was currently tickling his chin. He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on the unruly locks, smiling as Geoff better adjusted himself in his arms. "You work even weirder hours than I do, you know that?" "It is not by choice." Vincent sighed as his phone continued vibrating. "I should probably take this now." He slowly pulled himself out of Geoff's arms as he took his phone out of his pocket. Clearing his throat, Vincent answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.

Geoff could only stare in horrified wonderment as Vincent's calm, happy expression was replaced with one of pure vitriol within the blink of an eye. He couldn't understand Vincent's words, spoken as they were in Elvish, but he found he was happier that way; he didn't know Elvish could sound so violent and he didn't want to imagine what was being said to warrant such harsh tones. His arms fell away from Vincent as the elf stood up and began to pace while the intensity of the conversation increased.

He drank his beer in silence as Vincent attempted to wear a path into the concrete floor with his leather-soled shoes. Judging by Vincent's expression, Geoff figured the elf was failing to notice how loud his footfalls were, just like he failed to notice the clanging of the empty bottles next to where he was walking.

Just as suddenly as his mood had shifted, Vincent's pacing stopped as he stared at Geoff. His tone dropped to an icy whisper before he ended the call. Vincent shoved his phone back into his pocket and sighed as he stared down at Geoff. "My apologies for you having to see that," Vincent said as he sat back down on the couch, "but that was a conversation that was long overdue." "Conversation or declaration of war?" Geoff took another drink. "I've never seen you so pissed off. What the hell happened?" Vincent shook his head. "Do not concern yourse--" "Too late; I'm concerned. What happened, Vince? Three years I've known you and I've never seen anything like that. Was it about this latest business you looked at or something?" "Something like that, yes." Vincent sighed. "I cannot tell you more right now, but it will become apparent later--I cannot discuss it now," he spoke over Geoff's sputtered frustrations. "Just have faith in me, Geoff. This will work itself out and, with luck, it will be over soon." His voice was as soothing as he could make it as he reached for his beer. "Just trust me."

"I trust you, Vince. You know that. But who's the fucker who needs to die?" Vincent's gaze snapped back to Geoff. "What?" "I'm joking." The half-truth was obvious in his tone. "But seriously, who pissed you off that badly?" Vincent shook his head. "Do not concern yourself with it. I will take care of the problem." "I know you'll take care of it, but I can't not concern myself with it," he frowned. "Someone's got you that pissed off and I don't like it. So who's the fucker who needs to go eat the curb?" "Is that something a police officer should be saying?" "No, but this is personal." Vincent frowned as he took a drink. "This is not how I want to spend the last half-hour of our reunion after a month apart. Can we discuss something else? Something like how anti-climactic it is to simply push a button on a phone to end a call, instead of snapping it shut?"

Geoff came to mirror Vincent's frown. "I'll drop it for now, but I still want a name--" "Rob--" "--of who pissed you off--" "Mirilas." "Wait, really?" His frown deepened. "Who's Mirilas?" Vincent said nothing as he met Geoff's gaze, contenting himself with another swallow of beer. "Damn it, Vince," Geoff put his beer down as he stared at Vincent's cheeky grin, "you're not going to tell me, are you?" Vincent only winked as he sipped his stout. "Bastard." Geoff huffed as he slumped against the couch. "Here I am, trying to defend you--" "Defend me?" Vincent chuckled, "Geoff, do you think I am a fainting flower who needs defending?" "No, but I want to--" he flushed as he bit his tongue - it just wouldn't do to admit to Vincent that he felt like it was his duty to do just that.

"It is okay, Geoff," Vincent gently squeezed Geoff's thigh. "I appreciate the gesture, but it is alright." "Promise?" "Promise." "Okay." Geoff's hand unconsciously came to rest on Vincent's, his calloused fingers lacing with the elf's. "To your earlier point, though: you're totally right. Touch-screen phones just aren't the same. There's no nice snap whenever you end a call like that. Makes me happy I still have an old phone on my desk - if I get a bad call, I can just slam the receiver down. It's great." "And how many phones have you broken?" "That's none of your business." "So, six?" Vincent grinned at Geoff's sour expression. "I am right, am I not?" "...seven." "Seven," he laughed, "I am surprised they still give you a phone." "I get the old ones. Everyone else gets nice, new phones with actual features. I get the shit they dig up from forty years ago. I'm still expecting a rotary phone." "Maybe if you stopped breaking them--" "No. It's tradition now. Can't change it." Geoff took another drink. "I broke a phone on my first day and, since then, I've broken one each year - by accident, I swear." He smiled into his beer. "But, I kind of want to see if they'll run out of phones before I retire."

Vincent's laughter only grew as he leaned against the officer. He released Geoff's hand momentarily, only to adjust his grip before taking his hand once more. Their palms were now touching as Vincent squeezed Geoff's warm fingers. "Never change, Geoff." "Not planning on it," Geoff said as Vincent's head came rest on his shoulder. He sank down a little deeper into the couch, just enough to let his cheek brush against the black hair.

He wanted to turn and face the elf, to pull him into a kiss, to hold him close, to do so many things that he scarcely had the words to describe them, but he couldn't bring himself to act on his urges. Instead, all he could do was press a ghost of a kiss onto the top of Vincent's head...

[paranoid-fighter]

Drabble/Writing Warm-up: Rafelo

I missed him

Author’s notes:  Unedited; enjoy. Comments are exceedingly welcome. 

With his tongue held between his prominent front teeth, he traced his finger down the well-worn map as he pondered his next trip.

He knew he needed to go see Mother soon but he wasn’t anywhere near her oasis home right now. He also wasn’t anywhere near the grove she told him to go visit, but he had no intentions of going there just yet. He had plotted out a course to get there several times now, but each time the grove was just too far away. On paper, he was never too far from the grove but, he knew the trip was a nightmare waiting to happen; the broken roads and shifting sands never made for easy travel. If the roads had been intact, he’d be able to make it from Mother’s home to the grove and back before the gas gauge’s needle hit the ‘E.’ As it were, though, he’d have to spend three weeks traveling over the remaining stretches of pavement while making several detours to visit different towns to refuel before he set foot within the forest.

The headlight’s flickering light threw shadows across the creased paper before sputtering out. Sighing, he carefully folded up the map and returned it to the breast pocket of his oversized coat. With a grunt, he pushed himself upright and walked up to the motorcycle. “I just found you a bulb that fits,” he muttered as he removed the cracked plastic cover over the headlight, “why are you dying on me now? It was a good bulb. Don’t you know how long it took me to find one for you?” He pulled on an old glove and began to adjust the lightbulb within the socket. “C'mon, turn back on. Can’t drive if I can’t see.” The bulb rudely refused to illuminate as he continued to tweak the bulb’s position. “Please turn back on. You know I can’t travel much during the day. It’s night or nothing for us.” He frowned as he saw a small spark. “Don’t be like that. I’m the only one who takes care of you. If I go away, you’ll just have to lie in the sand and rust. You don’t want that, do you?” The light flashed briefly before dimming again. “Alright. I see how it is; you want me to get caught. You wanna stay out here in the sand and have a cobra live in your tailpipe. I get it.” Another flash of light. “Oh, you’re such an ass!” He huffed as he pulled his hand away. “C'mon, please! Please turn back on. I’ll take you back to Hank soon if you just turn back on. We gotta keep moving,” his voice was edged wtih desperation, “please. Please turn back on. We’ve been camped here for a few days; they’ll find us soon if we stay any–”

Rafelo fell silent and dropped into a crouch as he heard a distant rumble. Cautiously, he looked up at the cloudless sky and frowned - that wasn’t thunder and he doubted that was a skywhale making its majestic way through the desert.

Despite the frigid night, he felt himself starting to sweat as the rumbling grew louder. “Okay,” he whispered as he put the cover over the dark bulb, “don’t turn on now. Please. Just stay off.” He removed the keys from the ignition and shoved them deep into his pocket. “Don’t spark, don’t flicker, don’t do anything. We gotta hide. Hopefully it’s just a train, but we can’t take chances.” Rafelo grasped the handlebars with one hand as he held onto the seat with the other. He guided the bike down onto the sand and quickly rummaged through a buldging saddlebag as he searched for his cloak, trying to ignore the crescendoing roar.

Panicking, he gripped the silken fabric and pulled it free with a grunt. He shook it out and threw it over the motorcycle before crawling underneath the remaining fabric. It wasn’t ideal, but nothing about this situation was; he was stranded in the desert with a bike that didn’t like to work and was hundreds of miles away from the only sembalance of family that he had. “We’ll stay here tonight,” he whispered as he curled against the warm engine, “and we’ll travel tomorrow morning if it’s safe. Please start up tomorrow; I want to go back to Mother.”

He closed his eyes as he fought to slow his breathing. The sound was almost deafening now; the helicopter’s blades sliced through the air as it drew ever closer to his hiding spot.

Despite the cloak and the cover of darkness, Rafelo felt exposed. With only milimeters of camoflaging silk covering him, he could feel the air being buffeted around him. He closed his eyes tightly as a spotlight swept over the desert, but he could still see the blinding light.

Holding his breath, he hugged his motorcycle with all his might as he tried to stop shaking. His mind was racing, his thoughts swirling like the propellers above him, as he lay helpless under the cloak. He screwed up. He had stayed here for too long, had been too careless with casting spells. They were going to find him now. They were going to find him and catch him and he’d never be able to help Papa. He was going to let Papa down, was going to fail to help him, just like he had done for the past seven years. He and Papa were going to rot in a jail cell and he’d never be able to see Mother again, never be–

The world fell into darkness as the sounds of the rotors began to rapidly fade away.

Confused, Rafelo’s grip on his motorcycle began to lessen. They were retreating - why were they retreating? He was beyond relieved, but the soldiers normally swept the area for longer. Were they also running low on fuel? There weren’t many places now that could refuel aircrafts out here in the wastes. Maybe they–

He felt the roar more than he heard it; it shook him to his core as the hollow wail pierced the night.

–that’s why they were retreating.

Braver now, Rafelo crawled out from under his cloak as he stared up at the night sky. He could see the outline of the helicopter as it fled the area, just as he could see the long, undulating shape sailing overhead. Frowning, he pulled his map out of his coat and shook it open. He didn’t think he was that close to the nestlands, but ever since his compass had broken, he hadn’t had the best luck with navigating the desert.

He raised his head as he heard a distant echo of gunfire and felt himself smiling as he saw the faint bursts of light. The soldiers onboard didn’t stand a chance against the monstrous serpent. “Serves you right,” he mumbled as he folded up his map . He hummed to himself as he gathered up the camo-cloak and began to fold it, all while listening to the dogfight happening just a few miles away. Judging by the distant mechanical whines, the aerocoatyl was winning the battle against the helicopter and its soldiers. He shoved the cloak back into the saddlebag before uprighting his motorcycle. “We’ll leave here in a bit,” he told his bike as he sat down on the sanddy ground, “but I wanna give the snake time to do its thing. We’ll head over there in an hour or so; I want to see if it’ll leave anything for us. Can’t imagine it’ll take much longer for it to–nope, there it goes.” His smile grew to reach his eyes as he watched the flaming helicopter spiraling to the ground.

Rafelo pulled a harmonica out of his coat and began to play as he watched the aerocoatyl gracefully descended…

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter Six: “How did you convince him to agree with this?”

Poor Geoff - he’s starting to realize what he’s getting himself in to... 

Author’s notes: Why do I even still make author’s notes...?

Geoff left the diner and began making his way back to the precinct, humming as he wondered what stories Vincent would be telling him that night. Vincent always told him stories of his travels and Geoff always loved to listen. The elf was a gifted story teller and Geoff would often find himself hanging on his every word - for many more reasons than just the stories, as thrilling as they may be...

His thoughts about the elf came to an abrupt halt as his phone began to ring.

He stepped away from the main flow of pedestrians and fumbled for his phone, hoping to hear Vincent's voice. Instead, his heart fell into his shoes when he saw Jean-Claude's name on the screen.  

"Yeah?" Geoff came to lean against a building as he held the phone to his ear. "I am a pain in your ass? My dear, darling loup, you are woefully mistaken. I have not even begun to be a pain." "Jean--" "You, however, proved yourself to be a magnificient pain earlier this morning." His voice was quiet, positively glacial. "Do you know what I have had to do for the past half hour?" "No--" "I have been on the phone with your lieutenant, assuring him that I truly do want you working on this case with me." Geoff frowned as he listened to the sound of Jean-Claude's heeled boots clicking on tile. "Jean, Clifford and I spoke. I told him--" "I do not care what you told him, Geoff, because I highly doubt that it is what he said to me." The vampire's scowl was audible. "The conversation that I just had with him is one that I never want to have again. Do you have any idea how frustrating it was? Do not answer that." He spoke over Geoff's reply. "In short, loup, you have already gotten this engagement off to a very tense start and I do not appreciate it, nor does Clifford. Do you know what he wants me to do going forward because of this morning's disastrous meeting?" "What--" "I am to have check-ins with him, loup. I am to give him status reports on you and how you are handling this case. Do you know how much of a waste of time this is?" "Je--" "Do not even speak," he spoke slowly, enunciating every syllable. "I am not your keeper, Geoff, and I refuse to act as such. Gather yourself, act with the professionalism that I know you have and meet me tonight. I am tired of wasting time. I want these ghouls to die."

Geoff was speechless as he processed the elf's words. When his brain finally came up to speed, he found his tongue. "Jean-Claude, what the fuck are you talking about?" "Quo?" "Clifford wasn't angry when I left his office. What caused the change? Why's he suddenly bitching to you about me?" "I--" "And why'd you have to bring your stupid cane sword into the precinct anyway? It's a police station. You brought a weapon into a police station." "Hush," Jean-Claude snapped, "and let me speak." "No--" "Loup, behave." The vampire said before he took a steadying breath. "The sword goes every where with me. You know this. As for why Clifford is angry, I do not know. I can hazard a guess that he has received a lashing from his superiors. After all, this problem has only grown worse over the past half year and we keep finding more questions than answers." "Why's Clifford getting bitched out now? Did something happen?" "Yes, loup, something did happen." Jean-Claude's voice grew somber. "What?" Geoff felt a chill run through his body, one that had nothing to do with the weather. He hated hearing that tone. "Another body has been found."

Geoff pushed his phone into his shoulder as he swore. He stood upright and began walking back to the precinct as he returned the phone to his ear. "Loup?" "I'm still here," Geoff's voice dropped to a whisper. "Another body? Where at? Is anyone at the scene?" "Oui, oui, someone is there. Several someones, in fact. I am afraid to say that the integrity of the crime scene is lost, but according to the child that found the body, there was not much of one to begin with. You should not worry about arriving at the scene, either, despite its location. Several of your highly weaponized fellows are there already and are mopping up the rest of the ruffians as we speak." "What?" Geoff frowned as he continued to walk. "What do you mean?" "Oh, I should back up and explain what has happened. My apologies, I am simply so overwhelmed, you see--" "Explanation, Jean. Now." "Merde, so impatient," he huffed. "Fine. The body was found in the middle of some hotly contested gang territory, or some such rot. Truthfully, I could not be bothered to listen to the specifics of the location once I learned the address. The only other detail that I remember is that there was no way that I could send you into the middle of a warzone and have you go snooping around a dead body without a bullet finding you. I consulted with a dear companion of mine and he assured me he would be able to ensure that all of the riffraff was removed so that you can go play policeman without becoming a pin cushion." Jean-Claude's rythmic pacing came to a halt. "Does that make sense?" "Somewhat," Geoff pushed the doors to the precinct open and strode inside, making a beeline to his new desk. "How did your partner remove the problem?" "I am also unsure of those specifics, but I do know that SWAT was involved. Apparently there was a, how you say..." Jean-Claude lapsed into silence for a moment before snapping his fingers, "a firefight, yes. That is the word that I wanted. A firefight took place earlier today and, as a result, the problem has been solved and, as an added bonus, there are now several less of those awful thugs roaming the streets."

The officer paid no attention to Griffith's empty desk as he grabbed a notepad and a pen. "Tell me where I need to go, Jean. I need to go look at that body before anything else gets damaged. I'm not sure if I'll be able to find anything from the body, especially now that SWAT's taken a few people out. Can't imagine Clifford likes this either; I'll need to tell him about this." "There is no need for you to do so; he and I have already spoken." Geoff's brow knitted in confusion. "How did you convince him to agree to this?" "Convince?" Jean-Claude laughed. "Oh, no, no, no. There was no convincing. I simply told him what I was doing. When he protested, I told him the plan was already in motion and was too late to stop it from being carried through to its end." "What the fuck," Geoff breathed. "Jean, those were people; you killed them," his voice shook. "And your point is what, exactly?" The vampire drawled. "You should have had them arrested." "Oh, really?" His drawl gained an edge. "And then what, pray tell? Send them all to a trial? Waste months of time on men and women who are clearly guilty? Darling, it simply was not worth it." His tone lightened with his unseen smile. "They are better off dead, you see. It is less of a headache--" "They were people and you had them murdered!" "I see," the vampire licked his lips, the soft smacking sound carrying through the phone. "Yes, indeed. I see why this is bothering you. You are right, dear loup," Jean-Claude conceded, "I should have had them arrested--" "Yes!" "--and then fed to my children as punishment for their crimes." "No!" Geoff dropped his pen. "That's even worse. What--" "I am done arguing this point with you. You must realize that we are now operating under a very different set of rules. Loup, you, of all people, should know this by now..." He purred, "we are above the mortal filth that we live amongst. You must realize this, Geoff, if you have any hope to survive while doing this work."

The werewolf fell silent as he mulled over Jean-Claude's words, trying and failing to stop a shudder. "I don't like it when you remind me that you're evil." "Evil? No, no, I am not evil." The vampire laughed. "I am quite good, you see, but--" he spoke over Geoff's sputtered outrage "--we simply have different definitions of what is evil." Jean-Claude let out a long, slow breath. "I need you to arrive at seventy three fifty one South Cornwallis street. That is where you will find your body. Now hurry, Geoff; we have spent long enough on the phone. Go do whatever you need to go do and then report to me tonight. Around ten or so tonight would be wonderful. That will give us time to talk before I begin my own patrol. I shall also go and tell Mansfreid to expect you later tonight, yes. I will do that in just a moment." Jean-Claude's heeled boots once again sounded on the tile floor, tap-tapping as he made his way through the manor. "Adieu, darling loup; we shall speak soon!"

He hung up before Geoff could say another word.

Geoff stared down at his phone for a moment before dropping it to the desk. He ran his hands down his face and swore under his breath. Of course Jean-Claude would do something like this; why rely on boring old processes and procedures when a massive diversion could be staged? And, for that matter, why be subtle when racking up a body count was a possibility? Clearly, he fumed, calling in SWAT and staging a firefight was the superior option for dealing with a hushed investigation. "SWAT." He groused as he rummaged through the desk drawers. "He called in fucking SWAT. How the hell am I supposed to get on the scene now? It's going to be crawling with those bastards..."

He continued grumbling as he left the secluded office, all but gnashing his teeth as he closed the door behind him. Even though Jean-Claude had told Lieutenant Clifford about his murderous plan, he needed to talk to his lieutenant. This just sat too poorly with him to not be addressed.

Geoff began walking to Clifford's office, hoping to find him in private--

--oh.

There he was.

Lieutenant Clifford's face was as red as a certain large dog that shared his name but, unlike the dog, there was no friendly light in his eyes. Quite the opposite, in fact. "Do you know what that fucking fairy did--" Clifford was seething with rage. "Yes, sir." "--six people are dead now. We had a case against them and now they're dead--" "six?" "Get out there, Simeon, and just..." Clifford rubbed his temples, "just fucking look at the body or something. Just... just go..." "Yes, sir." Geoff went to salute but the lieutenant merely threw up his hands before stomping down the hallway.

Slightly abashed by the flippant dismissal, Geoff turned and walked out of the precinct, stopping just long enough to pick up the supplies Elizabeth had listed in her notes...

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 6 - Preview

I like writing conversations. Especially conversations between Jean-Claude and Geoff. The amount of snark and sass between these two is great fun. 

Apparently if I put a “read more” in, it causes extra characters to appear within the text. I do not know why. Also, the spacing is wrong in mobile... I don't know to fix it, either.

Geoff left the diner and began making his way back to the precinct, humming to himself as he wondered what stories Vincent would tell him tonight. Vincent always told him stories of his travels and Geoff always loved to listen. The elf's voice was hypnotic when he would tell his tales and Geoff would often find himself hanging on his every word - for many more reasons than just listening to the story...

His thoughts about the elf came to an abrupt halt as his phone began to ring.

He stepped away from the main flow of pedestrians and fumbled for his phone, hoping to hear Vincent's voice. Instead, his heart fell into his shoes when he saw Jean-Claude's name on the screen.  

"Yeah?" Geoff came to lean against a building as he held the phone to his ear. "I am a pain in your ass? My dear, darling loup, you are woefully mistaken. I have not even begun to be a pain." "Jean--" "You, however, proved yourself to be a magnificient pain earlier this morning." His voice was quiet, positively glacial. "Do you know what I have had to do for the past half hour?" "No--" "I have been on the phone with your lieutenant, assuring him that I truly do want you working on this case with me." Geoff frowned as he listened to the sound of Jean-Claude's heeled boots clicking on tile. "Jean, Clifford and I spoke. I told him--" "I do not care what you told him, Geoff. The conversation that I just had with him is one that I never want to have again. Do you have any idea how frustrating that was? Do not answer that." The vampire sighed. "In short, you have already gotten this engagement off to a very tense start and I do not appreciate it, nor does Clifford. Do you know what he wants me to do going forward?" "What--" "I am to have check-ins with him, loup. I am to give him status reports on you and how you are handling this case. Do you know how much of a waste of time this is?" "Je--" "Do not even speak," he fumed. "I am not your keeper, Geoff, and I refuse to act as such. Gather yourself, act with the professionalism I know that you have and meet me tonight. I am tired of wasting time. I want these ghouls to die."

Geoff found himself nearly speechless as he processed the elf's words. When his brain finally came up to speed, he found his tongue. "Jean-Claude, what the fuck are you talking about?" "Quo?" "Clifford wasn't angry when I left his office. What caused the sudden change? Why's he suddenly bitching to you about me?" "I--" "And why'd you have to bring your stupid cane sword into the precinct anyway? It's a police station. You brought a weapon into a police station!" "Hush," Jean-Claude snapped, "and let me speak." "No--" "Loup, behave." The vampire snapped before he took a steadying breath. "The sword goes every where with me. You know this. As for why Clifford is angry, I do not know. I can guess that he must have received a lashing from his superiors. After all, this problem has only grown worse over the past half year and we keep finding more questions than answers." "Why's Clifford getting bitched out now? Did something happen?" "Yes, loup, something did happen." "What?" Geoff felt a chill run through his body, one that had nothing to do with the weather. "Another body has been found."

Geoff pushed his phone into his shoulder as he swore viciously. He stood upright and began walking back to the precinct, all but storming down the street, as he returned the phone to his ear. "Loup?" "I'm still here," Geoff's voice dropped to a whisper. "Another body? Where at? Is anyone at the scene?"

[paranoid-fighter]

Blog updated

Hello everyone

I’ve updated the links on my blog’s header, to better highlight the different chapters. And, even more exciting, I’ve added this section:

http://paranoid-fighter.tumblr.com/GeoffAndVincent

This contains the 7 chapters that I’ve written so far and I’ll be updating this soon with the next few chapters I’ve written.

[paranoid-fighter]

Original Fiction: Chapter 5 - “Not a date.”

Taadaa

Author’s Notes: I gave this just a quick edit, but I wanted to get it posted. Why? Because the story’s picking up. Also, I hope you enjoy it; feedback is greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 2550-ish

All characters and settings are original creations and belong to me.

Geoff didn't know much about Detective Elizabeth Hart past what he knew from rumors. She was said to be a no-nonsense woman and was known for having little patience for frivolities or idle chatter. It didn't make much sense to pair her with Jean-Claude - logically, at least. On paper, her working with Jean-Claude made sense; she would be able to see through the vampire's antics, but in application, he was still surprised that they had managed to work together for even a week, let alone years.

If her notes were anything to go by, it was clear she didn't much care for Jean-Claude at the start of their partnership but, as the years went by, she had grown fond of the centuries-old vampire.

The first several pages of the well-worn ledger were dedicated to the elf. She had started with a very dry description - height, weight, hair color, the usual run-down - before her tone changed. The following pages spanned several years, evident by the date next to each note; she had come to discuss his love for red wine, about how he'd always have her favorite chocolates waiting for her, his mannerisms and so on and so forth. It was amusing to read about Jean-Claude from her perspective, even if it wasn't helpful.

He flipped through her notes until he found a page simply entitled "ghouls."

With a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair as he began to read...

The first attack happened on the second day of October. The body had been found by one of Jean-Claude's vampires. It had been floating in the river, mostly eaten, and she hadn't been able to determine who the body belonged to. The teeth, fingerprints and feet were either missing, rotten or mangled. Elizabeth had tried a DNA test, but it yielded no results. She wrote that the body was probably one of the homeless men that filled the city, but her attempts to identify him with the other homeless in the area proved unfruitful.

The second attack happened a week before Halloween. Another gnawed body had been found in a back alley in the industrial district. The wounds appeared to be a combination of human and canine, she noted, but this time the victim's teeth were definitely removed by force, as evident by the saliva and bloody vice grips they found nearby. Much like the first victim, she couldn't identify this woman, no matter what she tried.

Detective Hart had contacted a necromancer, in hopes they could raise the woman's spirit for a short while. The necromancer had said that unless she could be provided some of the bones or flesh of the victim, she wouldn't be able to find her spirit. At the very bottom of the page, Elizabeth scrawled the words "useless corpsefucker."  

He hid his smirk as he turned the page, only to frown as he read about the next attack.

It happened on Halloween and had resulted in the death and consumption of four people. This time, though, weapons were used. She indicated that their throats appeared to have been slit, but it was hard to tell because of the bites. The only clear indication that weapons had been present were from the defensive wounds on the arms of the man that had appeared to die last. These four bodies were also mostly consumed, with only humanoid bites covering their flesh.

Of the four, only Diane Kirkpatrick had been identified.

Unfortunately, Diane Kirkpatrick was also identified as being a ghoul, as noted in her autopsy report.

Geoff's brow furrowed as he read and reread Elizabeth's notes. She had said it wasn't uncommon for ghouls to turn on one another when food was scarce, but how scarce could the food be when there were multiple bodies that were eaten? What's more, she was a relatively 'recent' ghoul. The useless corpsefucker had said that Diane Kirkpatrick must have been turned within a week of being found truly dead, covered in bites and lying in a heap with the other three corpses - two humans and a half-elf, all of whom were down-and-out on their luck.

The useless corpsefucker had also said that the fact Diane had been eaten showed that there was likely a pack of ghouls behind the attacks and that there probably were more attacks happening which had yet to be discovered. As noted by the necromancer - she had scribbled the woman's proper title over the crossed out insult - this kind of activity was unusual for ghouls. They typically operated alone, eating anyone and anything to feed their insatiable hunger, and that they didn't work together by choice.

The last note on the page was a single word: fuck.

He placed the journal down as he stared at the wall.

Within the first month, six bodies had been found. Six. Three women, three men, varying races... the only commonality they all had was that they all appeared to be homeless. Only one had appeared to truly fight back, while the other five appeared to have been either caught by surprise or were killed in their sleep. Even more worrisome was the fact the ghouls appeared to be coordinated in their attacks. Or, at the very least, they possessed enough sense to not outright cannibalize themselves. Still, though, how were they organizing themselves? Was there a central ghoul with more intelligence than the rest or was someone else pulling the strings? He was more inclined to think that there was a puppet master at work, but he couldn't rule out the thoery of an intelligent ghoul. He frowned as he knuckled his forehead; there were simply too many unknowns at this time.

He picked up the notebook after a moment and flipped back through Elizabeth's notes, all but frantically looking for the name of the necromancer. He had questions for the woman to answer...

Geoff's rumbling stomach disturbed the silent room.

Flushing, he looked over his shoulder at Griffith and felt a small wave of relief washing over him when he realized the half-elf hadn't reacted. He turned his gaze back to his new desk and frowned as he remembered his fully-packed lunchbox was sitting on the bottom shelf of his fridge. Geoff sighed and pushed himself away from the desk before standing. He stretched his arms over his head as the cracking of his elbows and spine jolted Griffith out of his work-enduced trance.

"Is it five already?" Griffith asked as he rubbed his tired eyes. "No, but it's lunch time, which is almost just as good." Geoff beamed. "I was going to head to the diner down the street for a sandwich - want to come along?" Griffith shook his head. "Not today, but I appreciate the offer." The half-elf gave him a small smile. "Maybe another time?" "Sure thing. Want me to bring you back anything?" Another shake of his head. "I'm fine; I brought lunch." Geoff nodded. "Back later, then. Have a good lunch." He gave the analyst a friendly smile before leaving the room. Once outside, his smile faded as he shoved his hands into his pocket and made a beeline for the diner...

Geoff sank down into his usual booth and gave Ester a smile as she grabbed an old mug and a pot of coffee before walking up to the table. "You're back sooner than expected," she said as she placed a mug of coffee in front of the officer. "Left my lunch at home," Geoff mumbled. "And here I was thinking you just wanted to see me again." She pulled out her order pad. "The usual, then?" "Yup. Do you have cho--" "Yes. We have chocolate cake. Do you want whipped cream with that cake?" Ester laughed at the boyish delight on Geoff's face. "Is the sky blue?" His smile grew. "As blue as your eyes," she scribbled down his name on the slip - Sal would know exactly what to make - and tucked it back into her apron. "I'll bring everything out when it's ready." He gave her a smile as she walked away. Once alone, he sank down into the seat and cradled the coffee mug between his calloused hands. He found himself wishing he had brought Elizabeth's ledger with him as he sipped his coffee; it would've been good to keep reading as he waited...

Geoff was pulled from his thoughts as Ester came back with his order. "That was fast," he watched as she balanced the tray on ohe hand. Ester began placing plates in front of the officer, starting with the cheesesteak. "Sal started making the cheesesteak as soon as he saw you. He didn't even need me to put the order in." She put the last plate on the table and stood back. Geoff stared at the plate; it was almost entirely covered with whipped cream. He picked up his spoon and cautiously poked the cream. "Is this my cake?" "Yep." He poked it again as he bit back a smile. "Why'd you drown it in whipped cream?" "I thought you'd like it; you seemed down when you walked in," Ester glanced over to the neighboring table. "Enjoy your lunch. I'll swing back soon to refill your coffee." "You're the best, Ester," he picked up an onion ring as he dropped a heaping spoonful of whipped cream into his coffee.

Halfway through the cheesesteak, Geoff's phone buzzed on his hip.

Shifting his sandwich to one hand, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen with a few taps from his thumb. He found himself dreading reading the message, all but certain it'd be Jean-Claude bitching about something...

Instead, he found himself staring down at a message from Vincent. He dropped his lunch as he held his phone with both hands, all but quivering in anticipation as he read the text.

Landed this morning - just got home. Drinks tonight? My treat. 

Grinning ear-to-ear, he immediately typed out a reply and then stared at it. His grin lessened as he reread the embarassingly enthusiastic text. Vincent had only been gone for a month; there was no need for that many exclamation marks. With a sigh, he erased the message and tapped out a new one...

Three minutes later, he finally replied with: Sounds good. When and where?

His sandwich became a distant memory as he stared at the screen. He chewed on his bottom lip while he waited for the elf's reply. He didn't know where Vincent would want to go. There were a lot of different places they had gone to for drinks over the years and they had amassed a small collection of favorites. It was generally a toss-up between two places, though: a hole-in-the-wall craft brewery or an up-scale cocktail lounge with an impressive wine list. He didn't care much for wine, but Vincent liked it. If they went there, though, he'd actually have to wear something nice--

Five Birds at seven? Your favorite food truck is there tonight.

Geoff's grin came back in full force - they were going to the low-key brewery and he'd be able to get loaded tater tots for dinner.

But, more importantly, Vincent would be there.

Sounds great; see you tonight, he leaned over the table, propping his chin up on his hand as he stared down at his phone. He kept smiling as his mind wandered; Vincent was back in town, had suggested they go to Geoff's favorite bar and, what's more, Vincent even knew which of the many food trucks in the city was his favorite. Logically, he knew that Vincent had nothing to do with the truck being at Five Birds, but that didn't stop him from thinking--

"My, my, looks like someone just got some good news," Ester crooned as she refilled Geoff's coffee. The officer jumped as he dropped his phone, frantically scanning his surroundings before staring up at the waitress. "w-What?" "Not often I see you stop in the middle of eating to answer your phone. I figured it had to be something important and, if the smile on your face is anything to go by, you've just gotten a hot date lined up." "Date...? No, no. Not at all. Just meeting a friend for drinks." He shook his head as he slid his phone back into his pocket. "Not a date." "You sure about that?" "Completely. Not a date." Ester stared at him for a moment more before nodding. "Alright then. Have fun getting drinks on your not-date, then."  She placed the bill for his lunch on the table before leaving.

Geoff pulled out his wallet and placed a few bills down before turning his attention back to his half-eaten sandwich. He resumed eating, albeit slower than normal, as his thoughts began to race.

Was it actually a date? He was meeting Vincent tonight at a bar, but that's what they normally did. Did that make all their previous meetings dates, too? For that matter, what even was a date? Weren't dates supposed to be going to nice restaurants and giving flowers and wearing clothes that made him feel awkwardly out of place? Even if their casual meet-ups for drinks together at a bar were somehow classified as dates, that would imply that he and Vincent were dating. And they most certainly were not dating. They were simply two friends who liked spending time with each other. Which is what friendship was. Because, he nodded to himself, two friends could go out for drinks and it wouldn't be a date.

Besides, it was a date, that'd be gay. And he was not--

Geoff sighed; he couldn't even finish the thought.

He knew he was gay. He had known it for years, but he had yet to do anything with that knowledge. It wasn't for a lack of desire, though. He wanted nothing more than to explore and act on the urges he had buried for over a decade, but he kept sabotaging himself and he knew it. No matter what he tried, he found himself runing it in some way or another.

Maybe tonight would be different. His pulse quickened as he thought about seeing Vincent again, about seeing the smile that always made his days a little brighter. Maybe tonight he'd finally--

He took another bite of his sandwich, only to catch his lip instead. He ran his tongue over the bleeding skin and frowned. It was typical; he had been on the verge of making a revelation, only to subconsciously ruin the moment before any life-changing realizations could occur.

Like always.

With a heavy heart, he ate the last few bites of his sandwich before turning his attention to the cake, doing his level best to not think about anything that even reminded him of Vincent...

[paranoid-fighter]

Meet Geoff Simeon

So, writing with Rafelo isn’t working right now. I tried, but to no avail. Let’s meet one of my oldest and most beloved OCs, Geoff Simeon. 

(The following drabble is unedited and just something I wrote for grins and giggles.)

Special assignments were just that: special. Be it a pet project of a superior or a asinine task assigned to someone before they were fired, they were always special in one way or another.

Special assignments demanded special people to see them through. Oft times these assignments were worked on by the outstanding people in their field, people whose names were known industry wide, if not internationally. Other times, they were staffed by grunts and peons as a way to hide them from the rest of people who despised their presence.  

And then, in truly special circumstances, these assignments were given to someone like Geoff.

Now, there was no denying that Officer Geoffrey Christian Simeon wasn't special. Everything about the man screamed "special," from the hair that was forever cursed to be unnaturally red, to his gregarious nature and right down to the piercings that adorned his body.

When the rumors of a new special assignment began to circulate, Geoff wasn't surprised that people started whispering his name. He brushed the rumors and questions of his fellows aside with a loud guffaw, all while secretly praying that he wouldn't be picked. In his experience, special projects were never good. He had seen far too many officers be walked out of the building and right into a forced retirement, if they were lucky, or right to the courts if they were particularly unlucky - or noticeably corrupt.

Day after day, he tried to focus on his work while his thoughts raced marathons around his head. He tried to remember if he had done anything incriminating or punishable. Despite working himself to mental fatigue, he ultimately drew blanks on what could have gotten him into trouble, save for something petty like not ticketing a jay-walker. A Goody Two Shoes to the point of ridicule, Geoff's record was spotless - one of few who could say that.

Well, he grimaced, there was one thing that could land him into trouble: he still existed.

It was the biggest black mark on his record, but it was a mark that he made sure was lost in the horrors of paperwork, circumstancial evidence and questionable bureaucracy.

As a werewolf, he knew he should have been sent to a corrections facility over a decade ago, ever since his first transformation. Instead, he worked as a police officer, upholding the very laws that wanted to sentence him to a life of exile. The stress he felt was palpable, but it was nothing compared to the sense of pride he had when donning his uniform.

From the starry-eyed child picking out his first Halloween costume to the newly graduated officer, Geoff's whole life had revolved around being an officer. He had studied criminial justice at his local community college and, after years of hardwork and numerous setbacks, he finally achieved his childhood dream of becoming a policeman.

The fact he was now a werewolf was an unexpected and incredibly uncomfortable wrench thrown into his plan.

Still, though, he made the best of it. He found ways to incorporate his temporarily fuzzy self into his life, although it was typically only seen in his voracious appetite and the stamina that would make an athlete jealous. Well, it would have made an athlete jealous, were he in better shape. Instead, he carried a small paunch on his stomach. Even though it should have been a show-stopper for the officer, it was anything but. Rather than being a lean, living missle, he was now a freight train. Once he got a full head of steam, it took far more than a tall wall or a long run to tire him out.

He proudly carried the precinct's record for longest foot-chase resulting in an arrest, as evident by the silly little dime store trophy his ex girlfriend gave him. It sat on the corner of his desk, right next to his phone and a small ceramic moon. He touted himself as a follower of a moon goddess, always citing religious beliefs for why he could never work on the nights of the full moon. While it meant having to dedicate even more energy to upholding an untrue facade, it did help him avoid suspicion...

...to some extent, at least.

He had at least learned how to hide the fact he didn't need a trained canine when he smelled illicit substances.

[paranoid-fighter]

Part 3 teaser

Since I’m generally braindead after work and I’m currently working around the clock, I thought I’d wake up a bit earlier and get some writing done... Have an unedited teaser. 

Geoff and Jean-Claude retired to the garden after the vampire calmed down from his outburst. Jean-Claude opened a new bottle of sherry as Geoff began to eat his fill on honeyed dates stuffed with goat cheese. As Geoff popped another sticky morsel into his mouth, Jean-claude turned to face him. "Tomorrow I will be meeting with you and your lieutenant. Your lieutenant does not know that I know you. I trust that you have not told him that you know me?" "No. Well... no." He swallowed. "He knows I know you. I told him you're a local celebrity. But he doesn't know, well," Geoff gestured to the wine, "this. I mean, no one really knows about this. No one outside of my pack, I mean. Of course they all know you." "Bien, bien. Pretend that we are meeting for the first time tomorrow and it shall all go well." Jean-Claude topped off his own glass. "Can do." He reached for another date. "Are you sure that you keep a straight face, loup? You have always had a difficult time telling anything other than the truth." Jean-Claude stared at his glass. "It is a pity you are not as theatrical as I am." He said flatly. "Oh, come on. I had to say something to get you out of your melancholy." "Perhaps I wanted to be melancholic," Jean-Claude sniffed. "Yeah, and I wanted to spend my evening getting cried on." "I was not crying." "You sure about that?" "Loup..."

Geoff rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. You're right. You weren't crying. And I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to hit a nerve." "Apology accepted." The vampire nodded, satisfied. "Good." Geoff stared down at the few remaining dates. "So, what will you be saying tomorrow during our first meeting? That you're the head honcho for the vampires and I have to bask in your glory?"

Jean-Claude's sigh echoed through the garden. "Loup, sometimes you make me wonder why I consider you a dear friend." "It's 'cause I'm cute." Geoff lilted. The vampire stared flatly at him. "Geoff, you are not cute. Adorable, much like a puppy, but you are not cute." "I'm offended," Geoff huffed as he grabbed another date. "Brittany says I'm cute." "Her judgement is clouded, I am sure." The officer frowned as he chewed. "You're an ass." "It takes one to know one." "...touché."