nevermore_logs | (no subject)

WHO: Mary & Huitzilopotchli
WHEN: Wednesday night
WHERE: An unnamed street outside an unnamed bar
WHAT: Ex-lovers having their first run in.
WARNINGS: tba

Mary wasn't sure of how the term 'cold as hell' had become a thing. Even to those not involved in the Christian way of things knew the basic that Hell was pretty damn hot and fiery. Nevertheless, as Mary stood outside the bar in her barely there dress, smoking a pilfered cigarette, all that she kept thinking was, it's as fucking cold as hell right now.

She'd left her coat inside but didn't feel like facing the bar again just yet. It was just a room full of men she didn't want to deal with. It was a room full of men she knew she'd eventually pick someone from to fuck and make rent.

Sometimes Mary missed her job at the police station, but she'd been no good at that. She was too flighty, too insubstantial as a person to hold down anything for very long. Even in Judea she'd been famous for walking around the country following some guy. No wonder it was all she was good at now.

She let a tendril of smoke escape over her lip, spiraling up into the night sky where she knew stars existed but could never see them. Cities were depressing like that. She didn't know how anyone could believe in God while living in a maze of cement boxes and neon lights.

Threaded | Flat

The winter made him lazier then the warmer months did. Despite the lack of snow, the chill still bit at him. Not that he minded. Getting used to the cold would only mean he'd gotten used to this country, rather then his homeland. He didn't want that.

But he still went out now and again, to prowl the streets in search of prey and blood. He had a steady supply, but the conqueror in him wanted more. He had patience and time though. Twenty souls already whispered his name under their breath, and the control he had over his neighborhood was iron clad. He'd learned to target the younger ones to draw him to his service.

A slow progress, but a satisfying one.

He'd heard the bar before he'd seen it. Crowded and dank, and not a place he'd visit. The cigarettes would bother him and he never liked being around that many people. Mortals got on his nerves.

The figure outside got his attention though and he stopped. He hadn't seen Mary since Valentines and despite how Xochipili had left he could not regret his actions. He missed her though.

He could leave now and not open that door, but he'd never been a coward. He still had to return her things anyway. "Mary."