pet.
the night seems to curl around perpetiel’s shoulders as he walks;
he knocks shoulders with a careless stranger, grunts, and pulls
his coat around his body. everything - every glance and pavement
crack - is mocking him tonight. the stars, immortal as they are,
sing you did this, you did this, you. but it could be worse.he’d practically had to sell his soul to get the girl’s apartment number.
i’ll do anything, he begged hours ago, i’ll replace all the stock i took.
times two. then, off her dour look - times three. just give me her address.
let me make sure she’ll be okay for… he’d flinched internally. God knows
how long she’d be alive. how long till he withered away with her. he
felt something burn behind his eyes.…however long. with a heavy air of hesitance, the witch had complied.
the alleged girl’s name is bella and she lives on the third floor of an
apartment complex. sounded tame enough at the time. he felt fairly
confident this wouldn’t cause any further complication to arise. besides,
how many risks can really be acquainted with a girl her age? maybe he
wouldn’t even have to check on her.underneath all this, the real truth sits unattended in the back of his mind.
he’s mortal now; and it hurts, hurts too much to think about or even grace
peripherally. certain hurts feel different when you know there’s no pithy
alternative solution. he’s stuck. he can’t fix this. what’s been done has
been done.he feels dead already. but, hey, at least maybe now he won’t have to watch
donald trump become president.when pet knocks, the door swings open within a few minutes. “are you
bella swan?”
the only people who’ve come to knock on her door in MONTHS were only line-ups of food delivery folk. she lived in distance from most of the world, in waves of PARANOID SILENCE —- reasonably so. she’d fucked up all her valuable relationships, and still had a government of vampires to keep away from. any tidbit of serenity was nowhere to be found in the crevices of her life.
it’s a shock she’s got as much as she does now —- funds provided from savings and TRADE DEALS; she’d found herself involved with various witches, and in the secrecy of magic she found something slightly comforting for her day-to-day hideouts. she certainly was a FIGURE amongst them —- the shield, the beacon, the IDIOT human who has a mind as precious as a diamond. she finds minimal solace in the involvement she’s been able to have – if only it could bring security and happiness, too.
but it’s the RARITY of visitors that prompts her heart to SINK in her chest – and hands wrap around cool metal which she’d kept stored in a drawer; fingers flexing around the small gun, one she’s never SHOT – but it’s next to the only thing bound to keep her any amount of SAFE in dire situations ( first bullet made of copper, the second wood, the third silver – prepared for ANY ENEMY. ). she tucks it behind her, into her belt as she answers the door.
eyebrows raise to prompt him to speak first —- they quickly FURROW once he mentions her name, and she doesn’t hesitate to pull the gun in front of her. ❛ —- depends on WHO’S ASKING, ❜ she says, tone slightly shaky. ❛ how did you get this address? ❜
agnelino reblogged this from borderliine
coldartifact-blog reblogged this from borderliine
