Withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Give Me One Good Reason.

an embrace

A gray blur dashed past where Ava was lounging. A few minutes later, Azazel jogged to a stop, gasping as he dropped at his waist, his breathing heavy before he startled at Ava's comment, accusing him of standing in her sunlight. He stood straight again, laughing tensely, his eyes narrowing on the other, “Alright, Diogenes, calm down. I'm not here to Alexander the Great on your sunlight.” He remarked lowly before looking out across the way again, trying to find his dog, who was being a real menace to him right now. Letting out one last heavy breath, he shifted, still looking, and spotted Shadow digging off somewhere far off. His attention moved back to Ava again, however, “Join you?” He looked like he was considering it, though he really wasn't. He couldn't think of anything more boring. Not only that, but he figured he might just fall asleep and suffer more for it, “I'm just here to get my dog. Who. Is being an asshole!” He shouted the last sentence out to where the dog was. Hearing him, she lifted her head up and looked over at him, staring, “Yeah. You!” He pointed, seeing her bark before dashing off again, “Ugh!” Closing his eyes, Azazel tilted his head back, thinking about just letting her exhaust herself and take Ava up on her offer, “Want a irish wolfhound?” He jokingly asked with an unenthusiastic attitude as he moved his head back and lifted his right hand, checking on the time. It wasn't that long since he woke up from his nap, but he was definitely ready to have another.

( cactus ridge trailer park, april 10, mid-day ) @boneyardstarters

Heaving a long, happy sigh and tilting her head back against the headrest of the plastic outdoor lounge chair, Ava closed her eyes as she soaked up the Nevada sunbeams. She was beyond grateful to have the morning off from her usual chaos down at the salon. She couldn't have asked for a better day all to herself, with the sun shining down on the patch of land just outside of the home she shared with her girlfriend, bathing the hairdresser in golden rays that were sure to have her positively glowing by the time summer rolled around. That is, until the warmth suddenly vanished off her skin. Opening her eyes, the Adler girl let out a dramatic groan. "What? Can't blame a girl for wanting to soak up the sun on such a beautiful day, can you? Or at least, I would be, if someone weren't standing directly in my light," she announced sweetly by way of a proper greeting to the person walking in her direction. A playful grin tugging at her lips, the blonde sat up, removing the red heart-shaped sunglasses adorning her face to better see her companion. "Care to join me? Or were you just gonna stand there and protect me from melanoma all day?"

It was getting to be a lot, especially with what transpired from the events concerning the Drive-In. With his boss's brother dying, things were, in his mind, progressing very quickly along the designated path. He had to get away from it for a bit, acting normal. Old habits seemed to die hard, as he went about doing this. Slipping easily into the act, as if he were pretending to be someone else, his entire life. Perhaps, he was.

Stopping by the café on his route to excuse himself from whatever was going on concerning the most recent death of a member. The fact that it wasn't just any member, either, was a significant concern. Azazel stood to one side, waiting for his order to be fulfilled, scanning over the rest of the room in the time he had to his thoughts.

The quiet of the café, barely full of anyone at this hour, thankfully. He spotted one that stuck out to him, jotting away in their journal. Turning his head away, he smiled as his drink was finally delivered, “Thank you-” He whispered appreciatively, then glanced back toward the male. A split second or so later, as the other spoke up, he tutted, “Now tell me what I'm thinking.” Azazel replied, taking another drink from his cup. He seemingly carelessly moved closer to the other, studying the male. Not sure why he was even interested at all. Perhaps boredom, honestly, anything to distract himself from one of the other two things currently consuming his life at the moment. “Don't worry, though, I'm not interested in you. Go back to your writing-” He turned away and walked to the other side of the café, still in eyesight of the other.

Sitting near a window, he turned to look out of it as he quietly enjoyed his drink for the time being, slouching and bending over the table from the waist, he rested his head in his free hand, looking quite content and at peace at that moment. Though in reality, his mind was anything but at peace.

@boneyardstarters ; open starter ! date: april 29th location: a quaint café somewhere in vegas

fun fact: your bones always ached the day after a mission. or maybe that was just him. there was always that dull, insistent throb that hummed beneath the skin, nested deep in marrow, as if his skeleton remembered what he didn’t want to; as though his body knew it had never been built to carry this kind of weight. a slight, slender frame that spoke of cathedral halls, faded sonnets, and tragic french novellas; better suited to waste away in verse, not weave paths of blood with someone else’s heartbeat in his hands. and yet. the others moved like soldiers, all muscle and momentum — he was the scalpel in a drawer full of sledgehammers. precise. quiet ( unless he had fully gone off the deep end, which, thankfully, hadn’t happened in a bit ). lethal. easy to underestimate once, never twice — if you didn’t mind losing your throat, that was. still, it left him tired, though he was tired at the best of times. he sat alone in the booth the lémieuxs had always claimed — back when legacy was louder than loss. the cracked leather beneath him remembered better days. so did he. it had seen him at his worst. held him when nothing else did, and continued to do so. it was, in every way, a refuge. the kind of place that knew better than to ask questions. his usual arrived without him asking. refills appeared as if by instinct. they knew his order even when he couldn’t remember it himself. a journal lay open before him, its spine worn and pages crowded with black ink, as the same coffee went cold in front of him — same cup, same bitterness. his elbows rested on the wood, spine curled forward, a soft crescent over the table, dark curls falling over his face like shadows. unbothered, untouched, unseen … except, not really. he let the silence stretch, and then, without lifting his head or giving the pen pause, he finally spoke, “i can feel you staring, you know.”

i DARE you to call me a freak. that's my preferred prefix, loser. i am a freakish little beast, with horrid claws and spiraling teeth. i am also. cooler than you

this was honestly so frickin HOT

@naiveete

Getting up from his spot at the lounge, he moved back to the bar, taking a seat as he waited for someone to take his next drink order. He slouched, leaning more onto his left side as he rested his head in his left hand, enjoying this little moment of bliss he was having, one of the few he could manage to grasp since returning.

Was this a smart decision? No. It was late, later than he might have liked, since he would have to walk home alone, and risk the same thing happening. But he was being careless about that potential. Not wanting to think of, well, anything stressful at all, he opted to ramble, “Did you know-” He started, half just starting to talk to his neighbor, having not really tried to talk to them at all, “Small pockets of air inside cranberries cause them to bounce and float in water...Cool, right?”