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Whats Plan B? (Part 1)

"Alright. Take it from the top and talk like im'n idiot." The scotsman stared, hazel eyes narrowed in confusion and wonder at the contraption the three otherbeings stood around. 

"Because you are an idiot?" Echo cooed with a subtle venom towards the man, eyes piercing in their flicker. 

"Now now. Be nice." Victor Blood's voice held a thinned patience towards the two. 

"Oi, I'm bein' nice. I'm always nice. Talk to y'ur little monster!"

Iain crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, motioning towards the devilish Imp who stuck a forked tongue out towards the scot.  

"Echo…" Victor’s voice was thick with warning now, though his hands and eyes had fallen to a panel of circuits and wires, a small tool taken from the interior of his coat to fiddle with one of the finer details. 

"Yeah okay. Sorry." They rolled their violet eyes and meandered away to do their job, long spaded tail flickering in a show of irritation behind him. 

Iain crossed his arms over his chest and sighed.  

"I swear…I get why yah keep em round, real tactical advantage but he is also a real pain in me' arse. Don't see what you see in him."

"They are just jealous of you Iain." 

Victor mumbled back towards the incubus not bothering to stop what he was doing to look at him. 

"Of…me? Why?"

"You are my best friend. They are my… partner. They fear the obvious." 

"We've never-"

"I know, and that's not even it either. Echo and I are open, I think its an…intimacy thing, look we can talk about it more later." He had grown frustrated again trying to patch the circuitry and juggle relationships..

"You wanted me to explain again, so this is my simplistic version: I studied my magic. Which basically functions through dark matter and reverse engineered that to make portals." 

He motioned to the contraption and it made more sense to the scot.

"We get the big bighty monster to run through, and they are right in our holding settlements. No sedatives, no helicopters, slightly less expensive and much less work." 

As he finished speaking he finished too with his modifications and moved to the nearby computer to put in the necessary calibrations. 

"This will be a good trial run. If it's true and there is a lovecraftian god about, those sort of cosmic beings tend to feed on-"

"Heads up" Suddenly the coms came to life with Echo's voice. 

"You've got a friend coming." 

"Fuck. I'm not ready." Victor couldn't spare the moment to take his fingers from the keys so Iain relayed the message, 

"How long we got then lass?" 

"Mmm I don't know. He is big and lumbery… but only if he stays calm. I saw him move quick for a deer, snapped her in two. I'm keeping a distance." 

A few keypresses later and the curved metal which had been set up in the middle of the dense Georgian forest. began to hum lowly before a silky blackness began to rise up to fill the space between the arches almost like a viscous liquid. 

But no sooner had this began than a loud screech crescendoed through the rolling hills.
Victor and Iain’s eyes met, the witches fingers finally flying to the com link in his ear.
“Echo?”
“Vicky this thing is no joke…” Their voice seemed to shudder with a fear, an unusual addition to the sassy creatures tone, which was enough to stoke a shock of fear in Victor’s own heart.
“I think…it heard or felt the machine…it’s heading your way. And fast.” Victor didn’t really need this information from the being, he could hear the lumbering monstering barreling towards him, angry guttural cries between the crack and timbre of falling trees.
“fuckfuckfuck” Victor waved Iain away from the portal, fingers flying back over the keyboard, furiously trying to make sure the link was secure, that they were sending the creature to the retrieval point where  a crew was already waiting and a chamber already prepared.

The next moments happened quickly and would likely be relived by the witch for years to come- if he survived.
As the beast, large and unearthly in form, broke into the small clearing Victor stepped from the consoles, 

“klikka á svipunni” The Nordic tongue was heavy from the witch, his words weighted by magic which propelled a whip from his hand, black and smokey like that which filled his now humming gate. The whip wrapped around a propelling tentacle which had left the angry creature, and with a fierce tug he pulled it down and forward, sending the alien creature toppling over itself, screaming angrily and waving its many arms in distress as the magic lasso wound itself about the creature and made as if to drag it through the portal, connecting with its source matter like a liquid metal and tugging the creature with it.
For a brief moment Victor felt the flush of triumph, before one of the monster’s tentacles broke free of its confines, whipping out and wrapping around his torso so quickly he hadn’t the chance to take a breath for another spell. 

As the monster was dragged through the portal by tendrils of darkness, so too was the witch, chest crushed beneath the weight of the monster and the panic rising.
He heard , distantly, his friends call out for him, but his only breath was directed towards muttering the summoning spell for his sword. It formed in his hand as he was meeting the inky black liquid, cold on his skin like arctic water.
He realized it was too late, he was going with the beast… and he couldn’t really be sure where- the wild swings of tentacles had struck the computers and the arches- finely tuned scientific instruments.
Reality was a sputter, he was released in the chaos, the sensation of being pulled apart and put back together not unfamiliar to him, but suddenly he was falling, he hit something hard, a wall, and then the ground. And he didn’t recall much else, the darkness which he often lived amongst, finally consumed him.
From seemingly nowhere, splattered with black ikor and dressed in finely tailored designer clothing fit for a fashion model, lay a very very out of place witch, rightfully unconscious in a new realm. 

Read more…

The List: Chaos Edition

Team name:Chaos Collective 

Team members: Synova, Merlyn De Aternia, Victor Blood

Which character will...

• Throw the first punch- Victor, his fragile sensibilities are easily offended, Though Merlyn would certainly be the one to pull the witch away, while Synova cackled in good sport.

• Steal all the bath bombs- These beings of Magic and Science have no need for such frills. 

• Get trampled by the crowd- Synova as a ruse to be carried would limp his trampled fox body to safety after a dramatic stomping. 

• Purposely tip over someone else's cart- Victor and Synova are petty chaos creatures who would kick a buggy at the first signs of disrespect.

• Accidentally tip over someone else's cart- Nobody, except perhaps Merlyn while she is attempting to drag Victor and Synova away from the purposely pummeled buggy. 

• Runs over a child- Even these masters of magick and darkness have hearts. No children were harmed in the making of this list.

• Get into a fight with their own team member- Alas, the conflict always starts with Victor and Synova, but Merlyn always has to tap in to make it end.

• Gets in line to sit on Santa's lap- Victor, who is quite bemused of Santa Claus, would never engage- however at his obvious discomfort of the idea Synova could certainly attempt to push him to try. 

• Climb the shelves to get an item off the top shelf- Synova, he has no cares for your silly ladders. 

• Has to help the character above get items off the top shelf- Victor, “Of course no magick can be used in front of all these people… I will give you a boost.” 

• Hijacks the intercom & makes a fake announcement- Synova, who was left alone for five whole minutes. 

• Waits in the car- None of the above- too full of directionless energy which needs harnessing. 

• Be the extreme couponer at the checkout- None of the above, what need for bargains do rich (wo)men have

• Pay with a jar of coins- Merlyn, more precisely a lofty back of gold coins, not legal tender in this realm but totally normal somewhere else. 

• Be the first to get fired if they worked at the store- Victor, a prissy boy who has always always been in charge of his own business, believes in efficiency and innovation, and would LOATH corporate chain policy. He would scoff and roll those stupid blue eyes and state "Thats dumb" until a administrator was forced to cut ties.

• Pepper sprays someone-

• Who shoplifts?- Victor. Just because stealing is fun. “Also corporate overheads actually factor in a certain amount of product loss due to theft and that if he didn't it would really be a waste of resources because often times excess overstock is simply thrown away.” -A lecture from Victor. 

• Who starts playing Marco Polo - Victor and Synova, after a short explication of the rules. 

• Camps out at the store before opening time- None of the above, the two fanciest boys (and to a lesser extent the Queen) would never allow a much. 

• Most likely to shop in an inflatable T-Rex costume- Synova, but only after losing a bet with Victor. 

• Most likely to be the streaker- Victor, after promptly Becoming too cocky and losing a counter bet to Synova.  

• Goes to the 20-item or less line with two carts full of items- All of the Above. 20 whats or huh? 

• Steals CDs/discs/games and leaves the empty boxes on the shelf- Synova doesn't steal them but he does rearrange them. 

Though Merlyn, in her grace, tips off a worker. 

• Get to checkout only to realize they HAVE to run back and get one more thing- 

• Which character just needed groceries?- Merlyn, but somehow it turned into a group trip. 

• Who forgets their wallet?- Synova, though little to worry about. He will conjure up some fake coin to cover long enough to get out the door. 

• Which character gets lost and ends up in the backrooms? Victor. He has a pension for falling into anomalies. 

• Which member has the closest Karen haircut?- Victor. Sad but true. 

• Which member has the most Karen personality- Also Victor. “But is it really such a crime to want good quality? I mean come on take some pride in your work.” 

• Who's idea was it to go shopping to begin with?- None of them can quite remember whose idea it was. But nobody wants to claim it at this point either. 

• Who actually finished the shopping list?

None of the above.

 

Read more…

Project Arcana Staff File ID: WORLD

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Image #6, Image #7, Image#8, Image#9

Project Study Echo

Class Designation: Muspelheim

Sub designation: Hive mind central processing

Apendage Designation: Mimic

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Grade 8 Conciousness

Power Level: Unknown 

-Notes-

Very little is yet known about the origin and history outside of anecdotal tellings from the beings' mouths themselves. Some electromagnetic and radiation readings suggest a similarity to what Blood has coined to be Chaos Beings. OtherBeing from a planetary region edging the Primordial Point, the raging Rosenstein Bridge at the center of the universe, so closely that they experience TimeSpace fluctuation. 

Both physically and metaphysically powerful beings, though often loose on concepts of morality and existential meaning due to loose connections to physical existence. 

It is believed Designation Echo can propagate more mimics from any host body large enough to house the transition, humans are an optimal size for take over but not the only option. 

Shared consciousness seems to be controlled by the primary body, not always connected to all of the mimics input at once but able to pick and choose the channel. The mimicss themselves seem to have some level of autonomy and self consciousness, even when their vessel is taken over by the mainstay consciousness, that is Echo, they seem to remain housed as a secondary personality. Death of a mimic does seem to cause distress and even pain to other members of the hive mind. In the event Primary host body is destroyed, new host bodies can be procured by Mimics without loss of cognitive ability or memory. 

 

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The Major Arcana

Aether

 

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~4(years of physical manifestations) | Elemental Winds of the Southwest | No Occupation (close associate of Victor Blood) | New York (No home location) | Nonbinary | Demisexual | Single

 

In Indiginous Pawnee lore, Trawa, The Great Spirit, created 'Stars' to hold up the sky and manage the spirits of Clouds, winds, lightning and thunder. The kathlamet people tell of a great war between these 'Sky folk', resulting in the death of many of the beings, including four of the five winds. The youngest, the wind of the southwest, was left to fend for itself, without their people or guidance. They spent hundreds of years alone, with only the moon and wind to talk to, watching humans from a distance, from far overhead, without ever presenting themselves.

That changed one day on a windy English beach, Aether felt the first semblances of something like love and followed Dreail, the wayward angsty Selkie boy he found there, for years to come. They began to learn more about the world beyond observations, began experiencing life for themselves, depending on the guidance of his depressive but passionate first love. Eventually the pair found themselves in New York, Aether getting captured in the grander mission presented by Victor and the Arcana, While Dreail was unconvinced of the meaningfulness of the mission. 

Eventually this drove a divide, his partner feeling Aether had become too wrapped up in human endeavors and Victor only wanted to use them for their power.

In an attempt to strengthen their relationship and help his partner feel less trapped, they left New York to find the Selkies' lost pelt, leaving Dreail in a confusion without much explination.

But even knowing the return of the selkies pelt could mean Dreail's leaving the elemental they searched endlessly, returning only a week later to find the selkie had spiraled into drug addled depression without his southern breeze. Eventually, unable to help Dreail find true happiness the Selkie returned to his lake and Aether dedicated to their new life as a part of the Major Arcana.

Aether is one of the few remaining of their kind, and one of the members of the Arcana with the most raw power, though they are slow to use those powers for their own accord, instead preferring to take on the role as spectator. Aether being the physical embodiment of air they are practically immortal, their physical form is a figment entirely projected at will and injuring or destroying it has little effect, though they could potentially be harmed or confined through the use of magick. They are incredibly book smart but genuinely have a hard time understanding emotions or other more culturally driven concepts. They speak very little and have difficulty grasping metaphors or turns of phrases. Although originally manifesting in a male form Aether more often takes on an image of androgyny, void of color their skin and hair are almost an iridescent white, preferring only the showmanship of two large white wings on their back when company allows.

 

Sapana Bunati 

 

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21 | Cancer | Boksi (Healer/Witch) | Employed by Victor Blood | New York (Originally Nepal) | Bisexual | Single

 

Sapana’s mother and father were anthropologists and explorers, researching and practicing in tribal medicines and studying native cultures and folklore in Nepal. 

They had not expected a child while in a secluded mountainside, and by the time they realised the pass was frozen over for the season.
Through misfortune and ill timing Sapana’s father died trying to get them back in civilization and her mother, injured from the attempted journey, had to return to the temple they had been studying- to be cared for by the mystic community which lived there. 

She lived long enough to carry the child to term but died in the process of birthing the young girl whom she named Sapana with her last moments.

She was raised by the quiet mountain community of Boksi, taught their methods for healing and magick, until she was eighteen. 

It was then the elders encouraged her to leave the mountains she had grown up in and explore the world at large. 

Sapana was not impressed with initial experiences, finding modern society to be garish and jarring, people to be rude and self centered, and cities to be an explosion of all these issues.
But while exploring a market in India she encountered Victor and Neal saving a man from a particularly vindictive Gin and found their mission enticing. 

Taking their invitation back to New York she was quickly awe struck by Serenity and the empire Victor wished to build and signed on to his mission with the hopes of bringing the balance and enlightenment of magick to the humans. 

Sapana is a herbologist, green magician, and healer at heart, she works with chakral energies and nadi, she is a very quiet person but firm and capable of taking charge. She primarily works in Serenity and the newly founded Changeling Program, with Supernatural and otherbeing orphans. 

 

Fluer 

 

622 | Dryad | Employed by Victor Blood (Project Changeling)  | New York (Original Grove: Allouville- Bellefosse, France) | Lesbian | Single

 

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Fluer lived in her grove for nearly five hundred years without interaction from more than the stray human who wandered too far from the trail. Like most fae she thought of humans as silly ineffectual things to be played with and confused and sent on their way. 

She learned differently as the twentieth century rolled around and many groves and collections of nature spirits were decimated in human wars, word traveled among the nymphs, naids and dyads and protecting one's grove became less about confusing travelers. 

But even more threatening than human war was human encroachment, slowly the land of her people dwindled more and more. 

The last acre of land where her tree was located was being cut into, the few beings who could flee doing so while most dryads only had the options to stay put and fall with their trees.
Fluer was making peace with the loss of her sisters when Victor Blood showed up. 

He couldn’t save the land, but he could save the trees, and the spirits that inhabited them.
He took every inhabited plant, and he relocated them in a place he owned, where he could better protect them. But Fluer specifically found herself in Serenity, astounded by how the Witch had brought her world into the modern human society she dedicated to his mission. 

 

Neal Jared Jefferies 

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45 | Taurus  | Alchemist | Former SAS, Freelance | New York (Originally London) | Homosexual | Widowed (not looking)

 

Neal was accepted into the British Special Air Service at the age of twenty two where he served three years. He was an exceptional member and was found to be "resourceful, creative, and all around apt soldier" (as said by the General) It was here that he also met the love of his life. Nick was not an active member of the SAS team, but instead their dispatcher. Neal fell head over heels for the nervously agreeable man. Of course such a relationship was something that was punishable by dishonorable discharge, and though their romance blossomed the two men were sure to keep it under wraps and far from the eyes and ears of their team members.

Once both men had finished out their tour they moved to London where Neal became a police officer with the New Scotland Yard and Nick took up a job as an antiques dealer. Both were happy in their fields and good at their work. Neal's experience in the military shot him up through the ranks and he was soon a detective inspector. Although the work was hard, and disturbing, he always had Nick to come home too.

They settled into normalcy: got married, adopted two children -Georgie and Eva- who became the light of their lives. They were completely enveloped and invested in their children and worked tirelessly to ensure that their lives were fulfilled and happy, and that they felt the full extent of both their father's adoration and love.

And like this, they lived happily for a full five years. Hands down it the best five years of either man's life. There was little for them to complain about, and they never seemed to need too.

 Good things rarely last. 

Nick was picking the kids up from school when a man in a semi who had been driving for far too long on far too little sleep, was dozing on the road and didn't notice the stop sign. Nick pulled out in front of him; too distracted by the tales of excitement and learning to notice the speed at which the man was driving. The semi plowed into the side of the small hatch back killing Georgie upon impact, snapping his neck, and injuring both Nick and Eva.

Desperate and guilty Nick obsessed over bringing his son back, eventually he dug up his body and smuggled it to India in an attempt to get him to a temple where he heard there was a chance of resurrecting the boy. 

This plan back fired, although Nick got the chance to speak with his son again, he also managed to attract negative spirits from across the realm. They attached themselves to the weak and grieving man. As he returned to England those spirits set their sights on Nick and his daughter.

Eva fell into the hands of an ancient spirit, a Preta of her brother, which resulted in her possession and the murder of her own father.

Neal returned home from work to find his daughter long gone and his husband long dead. He was forced to stop what was left of daughter with his own hand.

Charged with murder, confused, and distraught Neal did the only thing he could an escaped from under the nose of the investigating Scotland Yard he went to India to figure out what happened to his family.

He spent ten years in India discovering not only what happened to his family, but far more than he had ever bargained for. He worked tirelessly training and perfecting the practice of alchemy, understanding the spiritual world. After intensive search he found what many looked their whole lives for... The philosophers stone.

He swore to use it to maintain balance and order as was its intent, and to protect it with everything he was. 

 

 

Iain Neiall Stroud 

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536 | Leo | Incubus | Freelance Photographer | New York (Originally Glasgow) | Pansexual | Poly (single)

 

Iain Stroud was born in Edinburgh in 1514 to an impoverished family of farmers. He is foggy on the details of his death, but what he does remember was the gambling of his soul for the chance at love. Iain fell for a young man, a fellow farm hand, and traveled to the land of the fae in an attempt to make a deal for safe passage to a place that would accept their love. 

He never found it, and after a long stint of foggy pain he woke up nearly a hundred years later in the very same field in Scotland where he had taken his last breath. It didn't take him long to realize that he was no longer human and this was no longer the Scotland he knew. 

After wandering the moors for a few days he realized he no longer felt hunger, pain was present but muffled, but he did feel a painful itch for something he couldn't quite place. That itch became a dull roar. 

It was only silenced when Iain, desperate to end the ringing in his ears, began drinking to hide from the never ending gnawing. One thing led to another and he awoke the next morning in a barn with a woman on his chest and the mind numbing ache gone. 

It only took a few times more for Iain to discover the connection. Thus his life as an Incubus began. 

Scotland didn’t feel like home after hell and Iain spent much of his first few decades traveling western Europe. He found himself caught up in a number of wars in Europe and America. Unconcerned for his own survival he continued to fight whenever he was dragged in by draft or circumstance. However, after the first world war he could no longer stand the idea of fighting anymore, it had long since worn out its catharsis and the constant death weighed on him. 

Desperate to find new meaning beyond his eternal sentence and the constant fighting, Iain served his place in the second world war as a photographer, instead of fighting in the pointless repetitive wars he wanted to spread the atrocities. Help people understand the madness of it all. It kept him on the unseen side of history. Gave him a source of income. And there were always soldiers and nurses that were.... a little lonely.

It was in this manor that Iain coasted through history, he found Himself in Victor bloods scope totally by accident, but the CEO found the man to be good company and now employs him as a full-time photographer and videographer.

 

Blath Uisce 

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24 | Aquarius | Selkie | Employed by Victor Blood (Project Changeling) | New York (Originally Lough Neagh) | Bisexual | Single

 

In Scotland , selkies or selkie folk meaning "seal folk" are mythological beings capable of therianthropy, changing from seal to human form by shedding their skin. They are found in the Northern Isles of Scotland though they are a reclusive species that is rarely spotted by humans due to the value of their pelts. Once a selkies pelt is stolen they are destined to serve whomever it is that stole the pelt for as long as it is in their possession. Sekies are pack creatures, however if their pelt is stolen they are no longer able to enter the water to return to their families. A selkie can not steal their own pelt back and must be set free if they are to return to the water. Unfortunately many male and female selkies fall victim to the selfishness of man; they are forced into marriages or slavery by fishermen or sailors who stumble across them or are lucky enough to wrangle one. 

Bláth lived happily in the cool depths of Lough Neagh for most of her adolescence unaware of the dangers of man that lurked overhead. Unfortunately, while hunting food for her children, Bláth’s mother was captured. Bláth, being the oldest of her siblings, was frustrated by the pack's resignation to her mother's disappearance. Eventually, finding no help from her fellow selkies, she ventured to the surface to search for her mother. 

Naive to the world Bláth was not on the surface long before she herself was captured, she lived for nearly three years with a cruel ugly fisherman who forced her to cook, clean, and go to bed with him. 

Bláth was resigning herself to this fate when one night she met a young woman hiding in the small shed on her owners property. Although she knew it to be against her owner's wishes she sheltered the strange girl who, like Bláth, had nobody else to turn to. Together the girls devised a plan, Azrael would help her get her pelt back, and in return Bláth would help Azrael to steal her owner's boat and sail across the sea to the New Land where they would both be free. 

Their escape ultimately resulted in the death of the fisherman, which despite his ugly intentions, still nagged at the selkie as wrong. 

But she did her best to put it behind her and together the women fended for themselves, living off of the fish Bláth caught for them along their passage. 

They were not in America long before they found themselves in the company of the famous and influential Victor Blood. 

 

Azrael 

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22 | Capricorn | Cursed (Demon) | Employed by Victor Blood | New York (Originally Vatican Rome) | Biromantic Asexual | Single

 

Azrael was born on Vatican territory, a bastard child of a priest who didn’t want her. Her first years of life were marred with conflict, poor and the blasphemous offspring of two highly religious parents left her scrutinized and burdened with the weight of their mistakes. 

When she turned six she was further marked by her father's mistakes. A demon with a grudge, previously exercised at her father's hand, found its way to the humble home that Azrael slept in. Azrael awoke the next morning none the wiser. It was only when she left the small cottage with the rising sun, running the familiar path to the coop of chickens to feed them, stooping to pick one of the more familiar ones up. It screamed in her hands, causing her to drop it, but it was too late. Before the little girl's eyes necrosis took the animal's life, it was the last time she recalled touching another living being without the knowledge of the death it would bring.
Appalled that their own daughter could be so pointedly evil Azrael was kept under lock and key. Not allowed to leave the house or be seen by anyone, her existence was all but erased and she lived in solitude outside of her mother and father who often banished her to her room with fenatic prayer. Azrael could only live this way for so long, at the age of fourteen she couldn’t take it a second more. Taking nothing but her leather gloves and the clothes on her back she snuck away in the dead of night. She spent a few years in Europe stealing to eat and avoiding the contact or conversation of any others for fear of what she may do. 

Before long she set her sights on America, the land of the free- far from the religious institution that hunted her. Commercial travel was not an option and she worked her way to England while she devised a plan of action.
She was going to steal a sailboat. Thankfully she never had to, she met a Selkie instead. In return for the selkies' freedom from her pelt owner, Azrael was granted the pelt owners sailboat. Together the two women crossed the Atlantic vowing to protect one another at all costs, they spent a few years living in their sailboat, stealing to get by until they met Victor Blood. 

Now living in New York as part of Victor’s inner circle she uses her powers for good, or as good as her powers can be used for. Through training Azrael made her body into a weapon, hand to hand combat was deadly for her opponents- and she became very good at it.

Wyatt Arnold Cooper 

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23 | Virgo | Human (Enhanced) |COO of Blood Corp | New York (Originally Boston) | Homosexual | Married

 

Wyatt was raised by a single mother, Tanya Cooper was a nurse who often worked double shifts at her local hospital to support her son. Tanya and Wyatt had a loving and affectionate relationship, Wyatt valued nothing more than the time spent with his mother. He never particularly longed for a father figure, he never even thought to ask his mother much about the man who helped make him. 

Despite being a kind and intelligent child Wyatt was never very popular at school. He was often made fun of for his glasses that were particularly thick or for his tendency to read comic books during recess and lunch. He was a geek, through and through, a very nervous one at that and his fellow school children were sure to never let him forget it. However, his mother’s love and support made the bullying far less detrimental, home was his safe haven and he was always happy to pack up his books and climb on the buss. Despite his relentless bullies it became clear that Wyatt was different. Something his mother noticed as well as the school board. He skipped two grades and started high school at twelve. Which was amazing for his academic career but was less than helpful to his 

Unfortunately, his mother passed away only a year later when he was thirteen and Wyatt went to live with his aunt and uncle, a far less enjoyable experience. He did not see eye to eye with his new guardians, who would often make him do chores through most of the day, and Wyatt resorted to studying at night with a flash light. Without his mother’s support the bullying became a painful experience that consumed the young man with anxiety. Going to school was no longer something Wyatt looked forward to and was now simply something he had to do, often spending his breaks hiding in empty classrooms. 

Despite the overwhelming negative turns in his life he managed to graduate high school two years early, fine tuning his computer skills the whole way through. Wyatt was accepted into MIT with a full ride scholarship. He was top of his class, excelling and innovating at every avenue, it seemed things were finally going his way. He spent two years in a state of constant academic bliss, spending his summers interning.

But the universe is rarely so favorable. His senior year there was a terror attack at a company he was interning for. 

The building he worked in was bombed and two floors collapsed around him and his fellow students. Wyatt was in a coma for three weeks and ultimately lost an arm, a leg, and had shrapnel buried in his chest in multiple places. He was barely saved and was forced to take the rest of the year off from school to recover, even so they said that he would never be able to function the same.

Once returning to MIT he began work on a better form of prosthetic, his frustrations with his own becoming far too great. With the help of a few students to do some of the smaller handiwork Wyatt was able to create one of the finest cybernetic limbs the world had ever seen. 

He was discovered and hired on spot by Victor Blood after catching his attention with one of his prototypes. Wyatt used Victor's resources to construct the most seamless synthetic replacements for his damaged body, and soon he was hardly indistinguishable. Since then he has become Victor's right-hand man, often taking care of large technical projects as well as handling overflow business and offering council. 

 

Valdís 

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24 | Virgo | Servant of Loki: Chaos Witch | Employed by Victor Blood | New York (Originally Vanrdyrr) | Lesbian | Single

 

To Be Announced 

 

 

Ellula Ingwaz

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26 | Libra | Akashik Librarian (Owl Shifter) | Sociologist Student | Atlanta (Originally Nigeria) | Homosexual | Taken

 

To Be Announced

Jebediah Buck Kezar 

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24 | Leo | Lycanthrope | Psychology Student | Atlanta (Originally Covington Georgia) | Homosexual | Taken 

 

To Be Announced 

 

Echo

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~900 | Imp | Hive Mind: Leader of Mimics | New York | Pansexual | Poly (single)

 

Very little is yet known about the origin and history outside of anecdotal tellings from the beings' mouths themselves. Some electromagnetic and radiation readings suggest a similarity to what Blood has coined to be Chaos Beings. OtherBeing from a planetary region edging the Primordial Point, the raging Rosenstein Bridge at the center of the universe, so closely that they experience TimeSpace fluctuation. 

Both physically and metaphysically powerful beings, though often loose on concepts of morality and existential meaning due to loose connections to physical existence. 

It is believed Designation Echo can propagate more mimics from any host body large enough to house the transition, humans are an optimal size for take over but not the only option. 

Shared consciousness seems to be controlled by the primary body, not always connected to all of the mimics input at once but able to pick and choose the channel. The mimicss themselves seem to have some level of autonomy and self consciousness, even when their vessel is taken over by the mainstay consciousness, that is Echo, they seem to remain housed as a secondary personality. Death of a mimic does seem to cause distress and even pain to other members of the hive mind. In the event Primary host body is destroyed, new host bodies can be procured by Mimics without loss of cognitive ability or memory. 


Read more…

Reconciliation

Victor lifted himself from the bed, letting the sheet slip away to pool around the lithe figure of the slimmer young man, a picturesque wilting form which begged the jealousy of any Greek artist or poet. 

His shock of bleached blond hair had thin fingers raked through it, only for the delicate hand to fall back, dragging the sheet over his bare stomach.  

A soft yawn graced velvet creme lips and he curled into the pillow, pulling it to his chest to rest his head upon it while he studied the more Adonis like nature of the steady moving Witch. 

"You could stay." 

This was a very soft suggestion coming from the Imp, and it caught Victor off guard so much he paused in the act of putting on his pants.

His stark blue eyes leveled on the gold flecked hazel of the other man. 

"I really can't. " he continued the process of sliding his pants on but was careful to keep eye contact.

"Who says?" Echo was just cheeky enough to talk to Victor how nobody else did.

It was part of what Victor liked about him, but his adoration of the spitfire didn't seem to waver the somber way he responded.

"You don't want this to be any more than it is." 

Hiding behind what Echo wanted was an interesting tactic which the Otherbeing seemed to be unphased by, instead tilting his head in a coy fashion, one finger tracing the creases in the sheets. 

"And what is it exactly?" 

This was delivered light and arid, a little coquettish as if it could be pretended for even a moment he asked the question without knowing how hard it would hit Victor. 

"We have fun. We hang out in the Cabaret. 

We enjoy each other's company. You get taken care of, if you need something you can always tell me. What more is it that you want?" 

He seemed to remain stoic, taking the opportunity of half dress to cross his arms protectively over his own chest, his blue eyes connecting with Echo's but looking far beyond them. 

A soft humm came from the Imp, but it, along with his stark rounded expression and pursed lips, remained inscrutable to the Witch who's blue eyes became cold with sudden distance. 

Victor said nothing, unwilling to kneel in the conversational arena nor accept the abject humm as any real response. Echo was familiar enough with his antics to realize that when he started talking business it was difficult to pull him back. 

So for a tense moment Victor dressed in silence, eventually the other young being moved to do the same, though only went so far as his tattered jeans- which hung so loosely around his legs they hardly constituted as pants. Victor eyed them as the hickory skinned imp lay himself back into the bed, racking his fingers through his thick hair and studying the ceiling. 

"You don't want any more than that?" The question was directed to the ceiling with flippancy, but it cut through the air to Victor who paused in the act of tucking the pricey Italian button up into the tailored pants. 

"It really doesn't matter what I want." He sighed as he finished, running his fingers down the front of the shirt to smooth the creases; understanding precisely where this conversation was going and that he hardly had a choice in the matter. 

"How does it not matter what you want?!" Echo laughed at the very audacity of the suggestion, sitting up to look across the small hotel styled room, irises glinting much like a dog's in moonlight might. But Victor's blues were far from meeting them now.

"Because I know what you want, and it isn't something with me, I promise. 

If you want out of this and you want to keep getting money or something we could talk about it. I care enough about you to take care of you, even if you don't want to be with me anymore." 

"Sweet lucifer you are infuriating. Can you stop being so...evasive?" 

"Me? You haven't said a single thing yet. What do you want?" 

"If I said I wanted something more genuine with you would it matter?" 

"You really don't-"

"Say that again and I come for your throat. You don't get to tell me what I want Victor. So stop fucking trying. You can't control everything. You can't control me."  It was said with an ardent laugh, but the threat was not to be taken lightly. 

"I am not trying to control you Echo." Victor sighed, as if he was speaking to a child and Echo pushed off the bed, moving towards the taller man with such a fierce stride that he stepped back slightly, his hands falling away from his freshly smoothed jacket. 

"I asked if it would matter, Victor." 

There was a beat, crystalline blues holding the fierce fiery umber and emerald. 

"It matters. If it is something you want then it matters to me." 

The imp was beautiful, not a mark on flawless hickory skin, but the ire in his gaze made even the stubborn stoic swallow his self assuredness. 

For a moment, incredibly brief, Victor looked more his age. 

A flicker of an eye roll crossed the umber and gold hues. 

"But it isn't something you want?" The snide was undercut by the faintest tinges of something sad which Echo had no intentions of lingering in. 

"Yes." It was said simply, curt, as if this was an admittance of defeat.

With a frustrated growl which tiptoed past shrill Victor was shoved back into the wall behind him with splayed fingers on his chest.

"What does that MEAN. Why wont you just… stop making this a riddle." 

Despite the vitriol and venom meant to be in those words they came out confused and pitiful, and carefully both wrists were wound in the firm grasp of the taller witch. 

"Echo it means I would love for this to be something that could leave this room. I would love to be able to love you. Romance you. Show you off. All that fun stuff. But I can't. Not because of you-" seeing the question rising on his lips Victor rushed ahead of it,

"-No. No, not him either. Not…Max I mean… kind of but not because I am still stuck on him. I miss him dearly but more than anything I regret what I did and how I handled the aftermath of my mistakes. More than anything I can't trust myself."

A scoff escaped the soft plump lips of the other man who attempted to pull back from the child's excuse of 'it's not you it's me'; but Victor wouldn't lessen his grip on the fragile circumference of Echo's wrists, instead pulling him right back into his chest. 

"Because I am not a good person, Echo.

Because I am trying really hard to do the right thing for others but deep down, in the core of me the very center of my being there is only darkness. I know it. And I don't know if I can ever overcome it completely, I will never make up for the people it has already hurt. 

The only person that ever believed I could be more than the monster inside me, who actually loved me, I betrayed in the one way he could never forgive. In the one way I could never come back from, and I was not so blind as to not know that when I did it. Even…even given the circumstances, even given my state, I could have said no, and I didn't. I will never understand that choice, and I made it… how can I reconcile that? How can I deal with the potential that I may make a mistake so…plainly stupid. I can't trust myself to love you. I can't trust myself to do anything." 

 

His ardent whisper grew weak with emotion, something which left the fiery imp stunned. Autumnal hues drifted wildly in search of falsehood beneath the rolling northern waters of Victor's eyes. All that slipped through was a pain and desire to bury that pain. 

Echo had lived on this planet for hundreds of years, he had grifted, cheated and clawed to make a life for himself among the humans and the scraps of Otherbeings which managed to survive in New York. But he had never known anyone, Magik or Mundane, like Victor Blood. 

After a moment his wrists turned in Victor's firm hold, and willowy fingers spread across the crisp white expanse of the italian design. The witch allowed his own fingers to tentatively unwind, blue holding tight to wicked hazel, letting his hands slip down the slim fit plains of chest and stomach to rest gently, intimately, on the imp's waist, still bare, supple and enticing. But it wasn't drawing the witch's attention, these waters were too tenuous for even the slightest slip. 

"Victor… I thought…" 

A slow deep breath was taken in, the metal rings in his nose and lip catching the dim lamp light of the room with the rise and fall of his head.

"I thought you understood by now how ridiculous and made up those ideals were. Darkness and light. Good and Evil. All fake dichotomies Vic. We need both. One can't exist without the other, they rarely exist in pure forms at all, and never for very long, I have met true darkness and it doesn't care like you do. Balance is accepting the dark and light you have. Your graces and your lines and boundaries around whose granted that grace, your darkness is your power, and you can make it work for the light." 

Echo was normally snide and cutting but he spoke now with a learned patience, revealing his age in his wisdom. 

Victor felt humbled. The abject truth of Echo's words were profound to the long isolated witch. Max had never understood this, the way darkness could never be scrubbed from a person, some were marked with it. But darkness, too, was not in itself evil.

Victor had felt like he had to pretend to be some Apollo when he had always been more of a Hades. Max had been his persephone, stolen away and brought into a wicked world he learned to rule. But he expected it to change for the better if he loved hard enough. Some things couldn't be changed. 

But they could be harnessed, understood, guided.

An audible swallow left the witch, and he nodded, the two beings beyond human gazing into one another's eyes for a long breathless moment. 

He nodded again, eyes fluttering as he looked away to hide from the rising emotions in his chest which clenched his throat and stole his words. Echo seemed to sense this and the hands spread across Victor's wide chest finished their journey, hooking behind the taller witches shoulders. 

"You are allowed to trust yourself. Even if you sometimes make mistakes Vicky, everyone does. Humans to Gods alike, we are always squabbling and arguing and none of that would happen if we were all perfect without mistake." 

There was another ghost of a nod from Victor whose eyes had grown glassy and distant, so Echo continued, pressing gentle soothing kisses to his jaw as he whispered. 

"You just have to forgive yourself, and move on." 

"How…how do I do that when nobody else has forgiven me?" His voice came out so small that the imp had to stifle his shock- Victor never expressed such outright childlike fear. 

"They can't understand what you went through, they can't define how you see yourself Victor. And if they see you have forgiven yourself they may find their way to the same conclusion on their own." 

Vic allowed his arms to wrap around the smaller being's waist and dropped his head to his shoulder. For a moment they held each other in silence before Victor sighed. 

"And what…would it all mean? If I said I did…want something with you? That I have forgiven myself enough to try again?" 

Echo scoffed, sounding more like himself, less gentle despite the way he kissed at the sensitive place behind Victor's ear, 

"It means you get what you want, you idiot." 

The witches arms tightened around Echo and he nodded, not having the strength to say more, a response accepted by the imp who closed his eyes and allowed the quiet intimate moment they had always avoided. 

Read more…

Take the L: Part 2

The next moments were vague, broken among lung fulls of muddied water and desperate struggles for an elusive surface. Darkness took Victor in brief flashes before he slipped into its throws completely, the lingering notion that this could very well be his last moments of consciousness were quickly overridden by the burden and comfort of sleep. 

He found himself back in the ambient blue glow of New York penthouse, the walls shifted with the passing of fish and he felt a sense of calm settle within him, a deep longing for the comforts of home. Despite the vividness of the dream he knew it was exactly that, a figment of his mind, conjured only because it was easier than his current reality. There was a distant recognition of the need to wake from the dream, but instead he found himself once again following the path down the hallway towards the balcony door, and the greenhouse beyond. He never made it past the first door, the ethereal visions ended as abruptly as they began, the world rushed into perspective in a dizzying gallop, the sudden ability to see was blinding and Victor was met with the flood of light which left him scrambling to cover his face.

He gasped and noted the ripping nature of the lingering water and muck in his lungs and attempted to rid the burning sensation with a few hearty coughs. 

“You absolute imbecile, you think that you are impervious to death or do you really just not care that much?” The voice was familiar, gravely and weathered by frustration, the british accent tempered by time spent in the east; but it took a moment to place who it was knelt over the sputtering black mage. 

Neal clearly had no time for the recognition to settle, Victor was pulled up into a sitting position by the collar of his shirt swaying like a drunkard before pushing the invading arm away from himself. 

The overhead light was scarce, but Vic seemed parked under a particularly bright bulb, swaying nauseatingly overhead. It was enough light to make out the warehouse he lay in, the concrete floors scattered with wood and debris from transactions past, the windows dingy, tinted yellow by grime or broken out entirely. 

However, it was none of these details which struck him as particularly potent, instead it was the hulking mass huddled in the corner- indistinguishable as anything but homunculus flesh. It rose and fell, a heaving mountain of restful breaths. 

“How…’ Victor started only to realize he had a lot of ‘how’s that needed answering. His vision had only just begun to settle back from blurry but he was quickly sent reeling again by the conundrum of it all. 

“How did you find me?” Was the decidedly more pressing issue considering the beast was clearly subdued. 

Neal sighed, taking a few steps away from Victor to allow the younger man to gain his footing and rub his face as he replied. 

“You act like it has ever been that hard to track anyone down. I would wager that Wyatt knew where you were the whole time…” 

Surely Neal was wise in that summation, Wyatt had always been Victor’s quiet subservient guardian angel. Perhaps out of some misplaced sense of dept or affection. 

“Well convenient enough timing, were you just waiting for me to fail? So you could swoop in and save me?” 

“Yes.” Neal scoffed with audacious awe, “I had forgotten how dense you could be. We were trying to figure out what in the name of the divine you were doing out here, alone. And why you felt like you didn’t need to contact any of us!” 

Neal often spoke in gruff clipped sentences, quick and utilitarian with language; but his anger was full bodied and brimming despite the desperate state of Victor, barely dried and caked in mud and grime. 

“It has been nearly six months, Blood, and you have not so much as called your brother.”

There it was, the root of Neal’s vehement anger, how dare any man endanger a child. 

Victor had been prepping his back lash, the argument in his head mounting but it was ground to a startling halt at the mention of his brother, an invariable truth. The younger Blood boy was Victor’s ward, his responsibility. 

Victor’s blue eyes fell away- ashamed. 

“I know, you’re right.” And it was Neal’s turn to fall into a shocked silence, surprised by Victor’s willingness not only to be criticised but more pointedly to agree with the criticism. 

Silence settled among the two men, the broken boards, abandoned boxes and dusty debris were only moved by the static white noise of the beast breathing restfully in the corner. 

“You said we… who else is here?” Victor asked in an attempt to give both men an out of the difficult conversation, unsure how to handle the response Neal acquiesced, at least for the time being while he better assessed the state Victor was in. 

“Iain, and Azrael. They are making sure nobody is going to disturb us.” That was enough to receive a puzzled look from Victor who had been at odds with Neal before and suffered his wrath, though he was not usually one to preface an assbeating with explination. 

“I don’t want anyone walking in on your new pet.” Neal grunted with a jerk of his head in the relevant direction. Vic nodded slowly, “And how in the hell did you manage to get that thing under control?”

Neal laughed, a short condescending bark. “You really think yourself so powerful huh? more hands make less work Blood, maybe one day you will learn that.” 

Victor had started to shuffle slowly towards the beast, watching it breathing with weary blue eyes. 

“I don't mind the work.” he murmured, “it has kept me busy…”

“and busy is what matters to you?” Victor stopped, midway between the alchemist and the Ahuizotl and hung his head back, examining the dusty rafters in petulant discomfort. 

“Yes.” 

“Really?” Victor felt his teeth groan in refute of the tension he held there. 

“fuck, no, is that better?” 

“Better? Victor there isn’t a right answer. I just want to know the damn truth. Is that really so hard for you? Objective truths?”

“You really want to get into this, right now?” Victor laughed, humorlessly. 

“No, I'd have liked to weeks ago. But you have been globetrotting about on your heartbreak tour and haven’t given a single other person any thought, including your very own brother, who depends on you.”

"oh good gods…” Victor whined, fully prepared to avoid this introspective discussion with a tantrum. 

“Everyone depends on me….” He threw his hands out, the hike in his volume enough to send a stabbing pain through his forehead, moving to cradle his now throbbing head in his hands he added in petulant grunts.

“And that is why they will always be let down.” 

Neal laughed again, short and sharp and without any joy. 

“Good to know you haven’t grown up any over these last few months.”

“Oi! VICKY” The tension snapped like a cold rubber band, the dusty warehouse suddenly felt less rigid and confining, Iain had the ability to do that. 

He moved in long sweeping strides, longer than was natural for his height giving him a vigour and motivation to his movements, he brought energy into any room he entered with his sandy blond hair, forest green eyes and weathered clothes. 

He was a stark contrast from Azrael, her eyes were a dark chestnut, black in the right light, and perfectly matched her ebony hair and the dark cloth that bound her in criss cross patterns as if a corpse being sent to the gods, wrapped in gauze. 

The only things left uncovered were her bare feet, hands and face, the olive tones stark against her dark attire. 

She, in accordance with her comparative style, said nothing to Victor as they came through the rickety door, instead the two crossed the open dusty expanse to meet the battered and disorientated mage. 

“Iain, Az…” despite the tension of his unfinished conversation with Neal he felt a rush of familiarity, warmth at the sight of his friends. 

“That all yah got to say then?” Iain’s boisterous tone was only lifted by the filigrant measures of his Scottish accent, and when he drew close enough he took Victor by the shoulder pulling him down and into a full bodied hug. 

Victor couldn’t help the small genuine smile, though he was notably stiff in the friendly action. “Hi. It’s nice to see you. I have missed you two….and…” he threw a glance towards Neal then the creature that still slumbered amiably in the corner. 

“And thank you for saving my ass, as I am sure you will all do again.”

Azrael made no moves to hug Victor, only gave him a nod of recognition and settled her own eyes on the animal in the corner. 

“Undoubtedly.” Neal murmured but threw his hands up in resignation when Victor cut him a glance. 

“Aye,” Iain agreed with a good natured grin, “undoubtedly we will again, it is kind of our jobs- ain’t it sunshine?” he nudged Azrael in the side to prompt her agreement and she rolled her eyes but offered a dismissive nod.

“Sure is…” She mumbled and her dark eyes wandered away from the other men in every effort of avoiding further engagement. Victor did not push any more talk on it, he took the opportunity to instead move towards the stirring beast in the corner- it tossed restlessly for a moment before settling back into a rhythmic drifting slumber. 

Sleeping the beast looked almost benign, a large exotic wolf or cat of some kind, the tail looked like that of a male tiger, resembling a tuft of hair rather than the appendages Victor knew them to be. 

“Well wonderful,” Victor murmured, his voice dripping with ire as he closed the distance between himself and its heaving form. 

In the dim light Victor recognized the faint glimmer in the atmosphere from a containment spell, likely the same one keeping the cryptid asleep. The others followed in his shadow, Neal lingered the furthest back, arms crossed in perpetual dismissal; watching Victor study the sleeping form with the same interest the younger man held for the beast.

“Mighty convenient of you all to show up right at the nick of time.” Victor quipped, much to everyone's dismay. He didn’t raise his head from where he was crouched but Iain and Azrael stopped their own advances, a low noise of dissent leaving the scotsman. 

“aye… mighty convenient, les’, chalk it up to that then yeah?” 

Neal rolled his eyes, “Don’t bully them Blood, we’ve been over this. You can’t expect to disappear without represcussion, you can’t expect us to sit by while you do stupid things for the sake of your fragile male ego." 

Victor looked up then his gaze spiteful, “I asked for friends not babysitters, and I asked for time not constant monitoring.” He stopped and shut his eyes, severing the severe gaze and sighing. 

“I am happy to see you all. And I am thankful of your help I just…” He trailed off and stood from his crouch, clearly finished looking over the magnificent cryptid before him. 

“I just don’t appreciate being monitored like a child.” 

Neal found this to be a reasonable argument and therefore did not dignify it with a response, instead busying himself by checking the state of their inbound extraction. 

Iain on the other hand felt more responsible to reply to his friend and defensively offered his palms in surrender as he mustered something up. 

“I hear yah Vicky. And don’t get me wrong, it ain't like we were just watching you on the satellites or anything but...you know Wyatt. He worries. And with Johnny we just wanted to be sure you were safe. Honest the longer you were gone the more we were just worried this little vacation of yours wasn’t….healthy.” 

He seemed sheepish to admit it, this was not their normal grounds for conversation. Despite considering Victor to be like a brother, he knew the young man was not privy to personal criticisms- certainly not ones which questioned his mental wellbeing. 

Neal interjected before Victor could respond much to his irritation.

 “Helicopter is going to get the big guy out of here, it is on the way. But our car is here. It will take us to the plane. Whatever your reasons and complaints for staying away, you are going home now.” The elder alchemist left no room for the younger witch to argue and instead turned, the naval duster sweeping behind him. 

Azrael held her own arm and stared vacantly at the rise and fall of the beasts breath, but avoided the conflict entirely; it was only a quiet awkward moment after Neal’s departure that she too made the move for the door. 

Iain was not so quick and instead attempted again, “For real Victor, we only came for you because we were worried.”

Victor scoffed and shook his head, brushing past the scotsman to make his way to the car. 

"Fine. You win. And frankly by all accounts you are right. Vacation is over." 

Read more…

Take the L: Part 1

On the swampy shoreland of the ancient Lake Texcoco air hung heavy with moisture and mosquitoes, a damp sheet lay atop the buzzing night. The swamp seemed to stiffen with the vibration of insect calls, amphibious cries patching holes in an auditory net which ensnared with efficiency. 

The longer Victor crouched the more the cacophony pierced his thoughts, his knees ached and his toes had gone numb- his boots having sunk a good inch into the murky water. 

There was not a precise shore to take refuge on, the sick sucking gurgle of mud would turn to the bubble of water the further away from obvious land one got, but the water would not drop off to its true depths for another ten yards. 

Not wanting to lose the advantage of being dry and on firm footing, Victor was lingering further back from the water's depths than he would have preferred. 

In fact, a lot of things were not preferable right now, there was very little high ground to take. He had considered scaling a tree but none were close enough, high enough, or covered enough, to be of any tactical advantage. 

So he had found a relatively covered spot behind low growing shrubs, the same spot he had crouched the night before, and the night one before that. 

He was beginning to doubt his Choice of stakeout location. He had come based solely on the reported location a survivor of one of the attacks had given. 

There were few accounts to go off of, after the discovery of the second body- mutilated horrifically and left on the bank- the outer reaches of the lake were to be avoided at all costs by the locals, and anyone sane of mind. 

Perhaps the beast had realized this as well and moved on, the relative intelligence of this being was unknown to Victor. Reasoning with it would be unlikely, Ahuizotl, as the local lore would have it, were not exactly friendly creatures; and this one had clearly gotten a taste for humans. 

 

The frogs seemed to cry a little louder and Victor let out a frustrated sigh as he shifted his stance just enough to relieve the tension in his joints. His boots came up to his ankles and his black cargo pants were waterproofed and shoved into the crest of the boot to avoid moisture but still his feet ached. 

It was moments like this which made him consider returning to New York, to his penthouse with air conditioning and designer furniture. Just as quickly as the desire overcame him it was followed by the cool wash of guilt. It made a tingle run up his spine to recall his home, he could swear the faint scent of pastries wafted across the swamp air and he closed his eyes to relish the lingering memory.  

Standing from his couch, setting aside a glass of scotch, pricking with condensation, pausing to move the glass to a coaster before he moved to the doorway of the kitchen - freshly straightened from the cooking that had been done. The oven glowed with growing treats, filling the flat with a homely warmth. Turning from the kitchen, through the dining room littered with schoolwork and crayons, he continued down the hallway, past the walls of spotless glass behind which fish wandered aimlessly, the doorway to his brothers room- he could hear him playing with action figures, the door to his room- behind which wound a cat in a circle on his bed, only so inclined out of her disdain for Victor. He didn’t stop to shoo her, he normally would but he was too concerned with the door ahead of him.

 He crossed the open balcony, unaffected by the dense city scenery, or the alluring trickle of the pool. 

Max's greenhouse sat against the concrete backdrop like an oasis in a desert; before he even reached it he smelled the sticky sweetness of blooming flowers-they burst from the building- it was hardly able to contain the vast and growing empire of vines. It drew him like a moth to flame, alluring and hypnotic. 

Victor recalled how cool the handle felt in his hand, the way the misty air burst past him- the prickle of the hairs on the back of his neck. 

Despite the humid air of his current hiding place in Mexico, he could almost taste the crisp freshness of the oxidized air. Past the din of insects and chorus of frogs Victor heard the delicate dulcet tones of Max humming from the depths of his mind. 

He couldn’t see him past the walls of plants, bursting happily from their pots, but he felt a radiance, a warmth that was so familiar and kind, he knew he was close. 

As Victor stepped forwards into the bright white space he heard a scream behind him. 

For the first time in a while he felt a pang of fear, turning from the lush green sanctuary full of unfinished memories of a lost love.

Jonathan, his brother, had been his first concern, his first thought.

 But as his eyes flew open he was reminded of where he was. His brother was nearly a world away, safe in the hands of loved ones. 

No, that noise had come from the lake, from the depths of the water not his mind. It sounded like a child's wail, broken and fearful, it had struck an instinct in him, one Victor often forgot he had. 

But he knew better than to give into those kneejerk needs to move towards such frightful human sounds, the myths and legends of the area were quite informative on that front.

From out of the water wound something similar to a snake, peaking a few inches above the murky ikor. It surveyed the treeline for predators, or possibly prey, before the tip unfurled into five smaller appendages akin to fingers; they lurched in odd directions- smelling the air before another cry pierced through the veil of swampland buzzing. 

Victor took in a slow breath through his nose and sank a little lower onto his haunches, peering through the low growing shrubbery and locking away his unprocessed guilt for a future Victor to deal with. 

If he lived through this, that was, whatever was slowly rising out of the swamp water. 

It walked on four muscular bowed appendaged that had no qualms wading across the bottom of the muddy swamp. 

It was safe to assume the claws at the bottom were of a sprawling size. The beast's head rose over its wide shoulders, sharply angled with pointed ears and snout.  

The moonlight glinted in its saucer sized eyes, as water fell away and took the swamp moss and debris with it, Victor could better make out its form. It was hound like, though it had features that rang to Victor as reptilian. It had no fur or hair, but instead a slick amphibious skin with quills that lay back along its spine. 

Despite himself, and the sticky swamp air, a shiver ran up Victor’s spine as he watched the creature rise from the murky water. 

A low clicking sound echoed through trees and Victor rose carefully behind the length of bramble, thick vines and spanish moss to better spy the source. 

Normally he was not one to rush into a case with the intent to kill, and it was not his goal even now. Detain and capture was the optimal goal...not necessarily the likely outcome- as Victor was coming to realize. 

The beast landed around the size of a male lion with a female's toned physique, and even in the dark at a distance Victor was aware it was all muscle.

Much as if someone armed a fierce wolf with a scorpions stinger this animal had reach on top of tremendously over powered jaws. There were too many points of contact, a distanced attack would be optimal, but it needed to be quick as not to scare it back into the water. 

From his crouched stance Victor dug his fingers into the mud beneath him and pulled out a substantial amount in order to draw a sigil upon the wood of the tree. He moved slowly to avoid the animals attention which seemed divided among smelling the air, much as a dog would, and curling and unfurling its long fingerling appendages.

Victor wandered faintly to himself if this creature was so curious of the air because of his scent, and though he was downwind and surely smelled less pronounced than the swamp between them, he didn't rule out that perhaps he had already lost his advantage. 

It was important that he move quickly; he swiped his hand across the sigil, with a supporting crackle a smokey tendril flickered from the activated spell, and Victor raced along behind it, high stepping through the sticking suction of the mud towards the hulking reptilian animal. 

The Ahuizotl, if it had not noticed him before, noticed him now, it turned its head towards him , tilted it, and the clicking sound was better revealed to Victor. The spines which ran along the creature's back skittered like a snake's tail, the hollow shells clicked against one another in a death rattle. It lowered itself onto his haunches and rocked forwards to launch itself at the quickly approaching Victor. 

Instead it hit an invisible barrier, a deep booming groan echoing through the swampland as if the beast had collided with plexiglass. A purple ripple spanned the length of the invisible barrier, highlighting the full breath of the dome that surrounded the animal, packed with runic sigils. 

The beast did not appreciate its confinement and the spindly fingers of its scorpion tail struck the barrier over and over like an angry mime. 

The death rattle was marked with childlike wails of agony, they made Victor stop a few feet back from the warbling barrier. Despite watching the creature through the purple hue as it parted its long snout, its rows of teeth glimmering, he couldn't quite believe the human noise was coming from the beastly cryptid. 

It only took another buck from the creature to cause the projected barrier to bend and groan weakly. 

Victor cursed under his breath and pressed his hands to the faltering protective spell, 

“No no no...stay. Stay. Calm down. I don't want to hurt you.” His words faltered, a feigned grunt escaped him before he focused his energy on speaking a low incantation in a foreign tongue in order to strengthen the failing magick. He twisted his flat palms against the reinforced wall and the dome became a little bit smaller, but this just made the animal buck harder. 

It must have only been seconds, perhaps a minute, but the struggle felt like it lasted a lifetime. Victor’s boots and pants were soaked to his knee and sweat was prickling on his forehead with the effort it took to hold the containment spell together. 

But he had indeed underestimated the sheer power of the reptilian canine, and with another angry childs wail it slammed the sprawled appendages next to Victor’s closely pressed face. The spell was broken and Victor was tossed back, the last image before the thick murky water overtook him was of the beast's long tail waving in newfound freedom. 

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