Cael wasn’t sure how he felt about Damien. The charming man had always left an insecure feeling inside of the witch. He still didn’t trust him. If anything, it still felt like the vampire was waiting for the witch to mess up – to give him a reason or an option to turn him into a vampire. He pushed those feelings to the side, studying Laila as she spoke about the moon. It was always interesting to see her when she came back, though he was always on the look out for wounds, “Just don’t do anything stupid that will get you killed. You know hunters are always out there just itching for a reason.”
It was Laila’s turn to scoff, turning to fall back into the plush covers and the warmth of the bed once more. Her bones felt as live as a wire, they vibrated within her body. She could feel Cael’s breath, hear his heartbeat– it was a comfort against the animal’s race of her own, she took a breath, willed it to slow. His request was ridiculous almost, it was like asking something feral to suddenly be tame; but instead she passed off the warmth of a half smile. He cared; how often did she feel the safety net of being needed? “I know where to avoid. They’re predictable now, they stick to the same spots and traps, as if we can’t figure them out.” She let out a breath, “Don’t worry, you’ll get wrinkles.”
Laila’s blasé attitude only made Cael frown, though he didn’t say anything to argue with her. It felt like he was frowning more and more lately, and he’d tried his best to stay positive for everyone. He probably needed to add more mint to his tea. “I like them less near Des than you, so take that as a compliment.” The witch rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling, “Vampires are still…worthless, really. I’m going to find a spell one day that reverses whatever magic is inside them, y’know.”
“Des has a good thing going for him,” Laila noted, propping herself up on an elbow. “Damien doesn’t let anyone fuck with him upstairs in his little mad scientist fortress.” She grinned broadly at the thought– perhaps it had something to do with the scowling blonde that was usually stationed by the stairs. “That’s kind of a big project, angel.” The wolf studied his features, trying to find anything that she hadn’t noticed before. “We have a blue moon this month, that’s going to be exciting.” She was itching for the change again, her bones now enjoyed the splicing and the split between humanity and something more feral; “Maybe they’ll still be in town.”
mini penelope mitchell appreciation post because i missed my girl !! / please don’t use in gif hunts or for icons.
“Honey, someone might just snatch me up while you drag your feet,” he teased lightly, though he had the same thoughts as she. He’d gotten so comfortable – it almost made him nervous. Did he really want to stay in Ashbourne for…the extended future? How long until Laila would want to leave? Everyone he cared about was in this town, now, and though he could count them on one hand, it still was a sobering thought. “It’s your business if you work there. If you have to work in a bloody vampire nest, might as well make it your business.”
“Now, I’d love to see them try.” Laila twirled a lock of golden hair around her finger, letting the curl snap back when she released it. She was a formidable creature, and the months in Ashbourne had cemented herself in a position as someone who was all bite, with little bark. The wolves that she had run with had thinned; pack animals were meant to be with their kind, half of the time she felt a tearing in her heart, like she was a seam that was slowly being unstitched. “They weren’t causing any trouble.” Her head tilted, “They tipped the bartender well, and everything.”
Desmond had had a taste of the ordinary, of what it’d be like to be human. Powerless. It had terrified him to think he might live the rest of his days as such, and he breathed out a sigh of relief once his magic was retrived. Ever since, he’d thrown himself back into witchcraft full force, more enamored by what he’d almost lost than ever before. The power in his veins made him feel alive, awake, and he craved it again, more and more.
He’d been so focused on his experiments that he didn’t notice her arrival until she took a seat across from him. Desmond arched a brow at her. “Flying, really? That’s the extent of your imagination?” He put down the vial, displeased with the result. “I expected something more disconcerting from you.” Desmond offered her a smile then, planting his hands on the counter. “Slow night for you too?” It was difficult to tell from his position, his customers used to be a loyal bunch. Few risked a peek into the infamous Epicure. “I’m so bored,” he confessed, fishing a bottle of rum from under the counter. The Epicure liquor was too expensive to go unnoticed so he brought something from home. He poured her a glass without asking, pushing it toward the blonde, “Cheers.”
“I figured that you sprouting a pair of angel wings would really brighten up my day,” Laila said easily, tapping at a glass with a brackish liquid inside. “Half the time, I’m not sure I even want to know what this shit’ll do to you.” Her head tilted and her attention slid back to the barkeep, “Though, come to think of it, you’re more of the Santa’s little helper type, over an angel.” The blonde held her hand out below the bar, mocking Desmond’s height with a grin.
Greedy hands gripped at the glass, tipping it back to swallow down some of it’s contents. It wasn’t anything top shelf, but it was warm going down, making her sigh. “There’s not much to do when you work with a guy who looks like a brick wall with eyes.” Jerry wasn’t very good company either, and his competency at his job made her feel like a footballer that was always stuck on the bench. “Can you make something that’ll shrink him down to pocket-sized for a few hours?”
“I am perfect husband material. I cook great vegetarian food, I make tea for you in the mornings, sometimes breakfast in bed – I can clean the house with a snap of my fingers yet…?” He held out his left hand with a fake pout, “No diamond to show for it.” He was obviously joking, dropping his hand as he took Laila’s, “You should’ve just killed him there.”
“I’m waiting on the perfect moment, don’t rush me.” Laila volleyed back, wondering briefly about when their comfortable lives would shift. She feared a day that Cael found something more appealing than a rabid dog to keep under his roof, or that she found something that she loved more than the witch– their lives were more intertwined than hers with her own blood; it frightened her. Pale eyes darkened as she considered his words; she had thought about it. “I think they were just passing through, it’s none of my business.”
“I know I’m cute, the old ladies tell me all day at the hospital. They tell me my smile lines are handsome and if they were fifty years younger, they’d be all over me. Also that my accent is adorable. If I was a very straight, heteronormative man, I’d probably have been insulted.” Cael was always shy with any praise that went his way, despite his somewhat wilted confidence in his abilities as of late. Not even his healing remedies were stopping the energy siphoning he was doing throughout the hospital. Healing was taking too much of his strength and magic, and now he felt like one of his dead flowers he’d put in the backyard the other day since he hadn’t the time to save it. “So she wanted him to bite her or something?”
“You mean your senile old biddies with the cataracts?” Laila teased, leaning in and catching her chin in her palm. “Because that sounds about right if they’re calling you husband material.” She stretched languidly, curling her toes before twining back into the bed. Tiredness seemed to radiate off the witch, and it made her worry– but there was also no telling Cael what to do with his time and magic. “I think he already does, she had some gnarly looking hickies.” Laila shuddered, shaking her head. “I blame Stephanie Meyer.”
Cael always heard the werewolf enter their home. It was like a bull in a china shop. His neatly placed everything was always half in disarray by the time he left his bedroom in the morning, but this time he’d been having a lighter sleep, peeking an eye over at the wolf after groaning, “For you maybe. You weren’t running around the hospital and the tea shop today,” he grumbled, though it was hard for him to even be remotely angry. He wrinkled his nose, looking at her before he eventually smiled, “You didn’t even change? And you got into my bed? What if I wasn’t wearing anything under the covers? Wait – you’d probably get too excited.”
“You should switch that tea of yours for coffee, you’d complain less.” Boundless energy was a result of her species, Laila tucked her cheek against the pillow, already feeling restless as she sunk deeper into the sheets. She was a creature of the night, and like a dog that had been crated all day, she was still eager to run. The blonde rolled her eyes at Cael’s commentary, snorting at the end. “Maybe you should go back to sleep, you’re cuter when you don’t have words coming out of your mouth.” Her hands reached up to secure a tie from around her wrist to the blonde locks that haloed the bed, “Did I tell you that I think I met the real life version of Edward Cullen and Bella Swan today? I’m still shocked that Jerry wouldn’t let me drag her out by the hair.”
Laila was wordless as she slunk into Cael’s room, lifting the duvet on one side of the bed and sliding into the spot beside his pillow. She made quick work of making herself comfortable, curling into place like a kitten trying to fit into a drawer. Her work clothes were still on, a cotton shirt that clung to her frame and dark jeans that had suspicious staining on the hems– hopefully it was something that her roommate was able to magic away. From beside her, she heard a groan and Laila laughed softly, reaching over to click on the nightstand light. “I know you’re not asleep.” The blonde twisted, peering through dark lashes at the witch. “Talk to me, it’s too early for bed.”
