i'd promise you anything for another shot at life. (thewayout) wrote in telegramupdates,
i'd promise you anything for another shot at life.

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i. open

She’s a little girl, it seems, dark hair and dark eyes, pale skin and smooth cheeks, and she hides her curves beneath layers of cloth and magic. She sits there, so innocent, pale legs crossed and milky in the moonlight. She knows they’re coming.

They, of course, are evil, sliding through the dark like little more than shadows, whispers of wind, toward her. One slides onto the bench beside her, and captures her in eyes so deep and dark that she drowns and there is nothing left.

Or so he thinks, because he’s leaning toward her, tilting her head and brushing aside the dark locks. He thinks that she’s lost, drowned in his gaze and rolled within his power, and his lips barely brush her skin before he’s gone, so much dust settling in her nostrils and onto her clothes.

And she’s not a little girl anymore, but a woman, taller, older, slender but curved and blonde. They attack her and she’s ducking and swinging even as the perfect glamour falls away. They realize that she’s not a little girl, not some little bit of blood and flesh and bone, but a woman who has trained and fought and is stronger than they consider any human to have rights to be.

And they’re but dust in the wind now, as they should have been long ago. She brushes their ashes from her clothes, wipes it from her face and shakes it from her hair. A second girl comes running up the path, dark hair flying, and trainers slapping against the pavement.

“Well?” The dark haired one demands, breathless. “Did it work?”

“It worked. Very well,” says the blonde.

ii. then

“Miss Black, if you please,” said the woman, tall, blond, stiff. Kit rolled her eyes, but executed a perfect back handspring into a split kick to please her watcher.

“Mss Black,” came a perfect imitation of the Englishwoman, from the dark haired girl perched upon the counter. The Watcher turned and glared at the girl, who just laughed. She ran her fingers through her hair, leaving bright red streaks.

“I must insist that you cease bringing that… that… thing with you to your training sessions.” the Watcher said.

“She is not a THING. Julie is my friend, and I must insist that you cease saying shit like that about her.” Kit snapped. Julie slid down from the counter and went to the woman.

“If you aren’t careful,” Julie said. “I’ll make you look like a fairy tale witch. Complete with a massive wart on your nose.”

“I’m not afraid of your threats, you Seelie trash,” said the Watcher.

A squeak escaped Kit’s lips.

“I’m not Seelie,” Julie said, and walked away.

Kit spent the rest of the session trying not to look at the huge, hairy wart that her watcher sported.

iii. tomb

Kathy taps long fingernails on the stone of the tomb, frowning. Her hair is long, and pale, red-blonde. Her clothes… well, she’s not very vampire looking, although she’s smiling and two fangs like pearls rest against pink lips, and it’s obvious what she is. She’s smiling, dressed in pink and denim jeans, her hair braided against the back of her head in two trailing tails, tied off with pink ribbons. Kathy isn’t exacrly a traditional vampire.

“I cannot believe that they were stupid enough to get that close to her.” Kathy says, and moves around the tomb, sitting on top and swinging her legs. “I mean, how could they not know what she was?”

“They were using magic. Changed her appearance,” says one of the vampires, a man with short, graying blond hair.

“Oh please,” Kathy says. The male shrugs. “They should have been able to TELL what she was before they were even near her.”

“If you don’t mind my saying,” says another man, blond, cherubic, and sweet looking, “but it was faerie glamour that prevented them from recognizing her, or being able to feel her power.”

“I hate that fairy girl,” Kathy mutters.

iv. out

Julie yawns, holding her long skirt up as she walks through the dew wet grass, her white heels held in one hand. Another girl walks beside her, and a boy just behind them.

“I have to get up early in the morning,” The girl beside Julie moans. “And I’m so tired.”

“Keira, don’t whine so damn much,” says the boy, moving to catch them and twining an arm around her. Julie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Until he kisses Keira, and then Julie’s not so happy anymore, moving with more purpose across the grass.

A vampire rushes her as she moves away from them, a tall one, one with graying blond hair. She screams, and the boy and Keira come running, only to be tackled by their own vampires.

The vampire sinks his fangs into Julie’s neck, and she suddenly feels dizzy. She struggles, but it hurts more. It hurts, until she closes her eyes and lets go, sliding into blackness.
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