raiden-dryad

[raiden-dryad]

phoenix-castillo‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

After Phoenix stood up, she kept both hands firmly on the pencil, holding it tight against her thigh against her now nervous energy wanting it to start shaking again. She had never been one to sit still and was a chronic foot tapper. A look at the victim’s face confirmed that he was, or at least annoyed. The seconds seemed long before he finally made a quip about the incident, releasing some of the tension. “That’s good. But of course you would. It’s just a pencil. But still, I am very, very sorry, sir.” She stared at his chest looking for any marks, but then realized that was weird and pulled her gaze back to his face. She shook her head. “Uh, no. I guess it just couldn’t handle Fall Out Boy,” she joked, feeling that he was no longer mad. As awkward as the situation was, it was easy enough to read that she didn’t feel the need to reach out with her powers. 

Lifting the coffee for a sip, Raiden’s eyes lit up, an obvious smile hidden behind the mug as he watched her nerves spill out in the form of more tapping. This time, the culprit her foot. When he placed the cup back down, he was glad she eased off now she’d caught his words. “No harm done, really,” he reassured again, trying to shake her off the idea that he was still annoyed. Dryad wasn’t, he was just taken aback by the minor incident. 

The smile remained on his face when he caught her explanation. He had no idea what Fall Out Boy was and wasn’t likely to ask about it. He settled on a type of music and kept it at that. “I think the important question is: Is the pencil OK?” he teased, glimpsing at it in the woman’s grip. “Not only has it just been rejected from handling Fall Out Boy, but it’s taken a hit.” he gestured to his chest where the wooden stick had smacked and kept the exchange between the two of them light. She seemed friendly; harmless and a little unsteady with nerves; he didn’t want to let her concern over something so fickle. 

#phoenix-castillo

[raiden-dryad]

The Underground | Raiden’s Playlist | Inspo. Playlist 01/?? | hella emo af. | Writing Raiden

1. My Drug | Anthony Mossburg 2. I’m Dangerous | The EverLove 3. Reckless | JAXSON GAMBLE 4. Man or Monster (ft. Zayde Wolf) | Sam Tinnesz, Zayde Wolf 5. The Enemy Inside | Dream Theater 6. Tomorrow We Fight | Tommee Profitt, SVRCINA 7. Monsters | SHINEDOWN 8. Fleur de Lis (Alternate Version) | The Raven Age 9. Saints and Sinners | Shallow Side 10. The Devil Within | Digital Daggers

#edgewoodchallenge #Raiden'sPlaylist #WritingRaiden #lets all mock that this is the most emo design ever #moody af

[raiden-dryad]

julietxhawthorne‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

Part of her hated that she had to tell him twice why she cared. It wasn’t easy for her to make friends, clearly, and Juliet honestly didn’t like reiterating herself. It was as if he wanted reassurance. Or he just didn’t believe her. She figured it was the latter, considering his personality. But it was still annoying to her, nonetheless. 

As he stayed silent, she wondered if she had given him enough information on the entry to remember what she had read. His apparent lack of remembering was the reason shy she didn’t just say the medical facilities name, but that she said who was involved as well. She knew that sometimes, names triggered memories. Although, she wasn’t sure if Raiden had tried to forget that memory and if he had, then she was a horrible person for even bringing it to the forefront of his mind. She knew there were some things she had experienced in her life that she’d rather not remember. Her family shunning her and running her out of town being one of them. 

She watched as Raiden tore his gaze from her and settled on the shelves of books. Juliet chewed on the inside of her cheek, guilt seeping into her heart as she watched him. She could tell that this was hard for him by the way he was acting but she gave him props for not lashing out at her. Yet. She reminded herself as she stayed quiet in the chair, not daring to say anything else on the subject matter. 

She was slightly relieved when he said that he remembered the day she had mentioned. Juliet genuinely didn’t want to go into detail of what she had read. It wouldn’t be good for her or Raiden, at this point. She then watched as he turned towards her, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I managed to, yes.” She nodded. After reading that one journal entry several times. “We’ve definitely came from different places.” And that was all she planned on saying about it. Clearly, Leon and Harken were complete opposites when it came to how they treated and taught their progeny’s. 

It was like she saw it in slow motion: he grabbed the glass and she could tell his tightly he was gripping it. She opened her mouth to say something but then the glass broke in his hand. It was obvious that he was still angry, and that he was trying not to show it. But she could tell. His hand was now clenched into a fist and she stood up, as if she could do something to stop him or to calm him down. He doesn’t like comfort. He is not someone that would benefit from a hug or a gentle touch. She reminded herself. At least, that’s what she assumed about Raiden over the past few times of hanging out. 

“I don’t think anything about that revelation.” She answered him and slowly sat back down in the chair. Juliet let out a breath and ran a hand through her hair. Juliet leaned back in the chair, trying to get somewhat comfortable, as he began moving towards her. What was he going to do? Hit her? Grab her and tell her to leave? This silent anger was throwing her off completely. Especially since he had just broken a glass cup. 

Juliet sat still as he moved to stand next to her, only to grab the cigarettes that lay there and then offer her a drink. She was thirsty and not for whiskey. But if that’s what he was going to offer her, then she’d take it. “Thanks.” She took the decanter and poured it into the glass that had been perched next to it. 

The vampire lifted the edge of the crystal cup to her lips and took a sip of the whiskey. It burned as it hit the back of her throat, dripping down her throat and into her stomach. Juliet let out a breath, one that she didn’t need, and then took another sip. It was a slight distraction from her hunger, but she wasn’t sure how long it would last. Her eyes flickered towards the refrigerator as she took another sip. “I may have questions but I’ve learned not to ask them.” She muttered as she tore her gaze away from the fridge to look back at Raiden. “And there’s no point in asking if you’d rather not share.” She wasn’t going to poke, prod, and pry into him anymore. She had learned her lesson. Juliet was just going to have to take what Raiden gave her and roll with it. Unfortunately, that also meant that they may not grow as close as she had originally wanted. But if it was one sided, then it wouldn’t benefit her, anyway. 

There wasn’t anything Raiden could do that would erase the knowledge Juliet had already learned. There was nothing he could do to stop the barrage of memories from cropping up to obscure his vision every time he thought about the details that she might have taken. She’d repeated on numerous occasions that she was without judgement; she didn’t think less of him. Dryad hadn’t cared for knowing that, but for some peculiar reason, he felt better for it. Perhaps the bartender wasn’t always as odd as she is now; as innocent as a vampire came? His mind had digressed, fallen into the pit that he had done so well to avoid up until now.

The corner of his lip stayed where it was; in that trying smile that was an attempt to keep the annoyance from seeping out. He’d always assumed they were from different worlds, any conversation he’d ever had with the woman told him that. Raid had never considered her to be anywhere near the one that he’d been buried in at the Underground. “Yet, we’ve ended up in similar ones,” he remarked, another irony to their histories, however far apart they were.

The cuts on his palm had healed almost as quickly as the skin had broken and he pretended to not see the way Juliet had risen to somehow assist. He didn’t know what she thought she could do, and by the way she retreated back, she didn’t either. “How do you think the man you read about would have acted, right now?” You don’t want an answer to that. Shaking his head, he knew the drink and cigarette would help, that he was almost certain of. He didn’t want to unintentionally break everything in his home because of the irritation eating its way through him like a parasite.

He only acknowledged her briefly getting comfortable in his chair with a flicker of his hues. He wasn’t all that sure he believed her following statement, but he wasn’t going to press it past what he cared. The cigarette met his lips in irregular bursts, tapping the building ash every other time into the tray to the side of the woman. Dryad only answered her gratitude with a tight smile, uncaring for the use of his liquor. He couldn’t decide if the silence was better than if they were at odds with one another – they still could be, but it at least allowed him the time to settle his aggressive nature.

Raiden – for the first time tonight, let out a light chuckle in disbelief. Unbelieving that she’d chosen now of all times to finally quit her mission of asking questions about him. “It only took you this long,” he murmured, following her gaze as it diverted to the direction of the kitchen. Dryad knew that look and he was well aware what she was thinking; that was another first for the evening. “If I told you the details of every single one of those entries Juliet, what would that accomplish?” he asked, stubbing out the first cig in the ashtray with some vigour before he was already sliding another out of the box. There was a bitterness in his tone: “Would you rather know that me, or the one playing human in Edgewood?”

It was only after he’d asked the question that he began to wonder how little trust he might actually now have in the other vampire. Why did she want to know so badly in the first place? Everything underneath the moon began to pass through his head – was he paranoid? Suddenly concerned that Juliet’s intentions weren’t to befriend him at all, that she was that good of an actress that she could well be a spy under an all too familiar thumb. You’re dropping into that state of delirium, Rai, back out. He hadn’t felt so irked in all his time in Edgewood, he’d been close – on so many occasions. “Perhaps if I show you that person, you’ll stay away.”

#julietxhawthorne

[raiden-dryad]

julietxhawthorne‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

Just smelling the remnants of what was in his cup only minutes prior made the hunger pains start inside of her chest. She truly wished he’d offer her some blood, but she also knew that he wouldn’t. Just because she was in his house, didn’t mean that he’d do such a thing. Especially not during the conversation they were having in that moment. 

His next question threw her off slightly. Why do you care? He had asked. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she leaned back in the chair. Why did she care? Juliet ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh. “I already told you.” She said, her eyes flickering towards him. “Because I like you.” Juliet said. “I don’t have many friends. Our species or not. And when I find something or several things that I like in someone…” She shrugged her shoulders. Juliet didn’t like that she had to explain herself to him. He wasn’t explaining anything to her so why should she have to him? 

Juliet ran her tongue over her now pointed teeth and sucked on them as he asked yet another question. It was honestly surprising. He wasn’t one to ask questions, even if these questions weren’t necessarily about her. She was also slightly confused as to why he was asking what had happened in that journal entry. Was it that he couldn’t remember, or that he wanted her to say it for him? Juliet remembered that in the journal entry, Raiden talked about how he wrote things down so that he wouldn’t forget. So that he’d have record of the events when his memory falters. Why would his memory falter? 

“St. Luke’s Medical Ward.” She said as she glanced towards his shelves of journals. “It was you and Harken.” Juliet said quietly. She had no idea who Harken was, but by reading his journal, they seemed to have had a certain bond. Just like she had a bond to Leon. She knew though, not to ask about him. She had a hard enough time getting Raiden to talk about himself, let alone anyone from his past. 

The fact that he was consumed with rage didn’t surprise her. She had not only taken one of his belongings, but she had invaded his privacy. She would have been upset if someone had done that to her too. “I know.” Juliet’s voice was quiet again as she lifted her eyes up to watch him. She was honestly surprised that he hadn’t snapped at her yet. That he hadn’t stormed across the room to shout at her. That he was keeping his cool. It was odd. Very unexpected.

She listened to him explain. Or rather, try to explain, why he wrote things down. The nickname that slipped through his lips made internally happy but she didn’t show it. If she was human, her heart might have even fluttered at the nickname. “I know it’s not about that.” Juliet said. “In that entry, you wrote about the reason.” Her eyes met his. “I know why you write things down.” And she wasn’t judging him for it. In fact, she was weirdly impressed and slightly envious. She could never keep up with journals but she would have liked to. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” She answered. “But I’m just trying to show you that there are no judgements here.” She motioned towards herself. “And to tell you that it won’t happen again.” Whether he believed her or not, she wasn’t sure. But she definitely wasn’t going to risk doing that again.

Because I like you. The words resonated through him; as penetrating as a knife wound in his stomach. The whole time Raiden had considered Juliet an ally, he often found difficulty considering anyone a friend. The woman had been somewhat close to what he imagined the term was and it was made clear she’d thought of him that way. Dryad could not begin to hazard a guess at what on earth she’d fabricated in her head to find reasons to befriend him at all.

Raid paused, eyes averting from his shelving to meet hers when she answered him. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t all that thrilled at the mention of his maker. It took him an additional moment to delve into the constrictions of his mind to pluck St Luke’s back from his memories. The flashing of the thoughts played with some speed through his head and he visibly grimaced as the unpleasant and bloodied actions consumed his vision. Rai’s eyes broke gaze from hers and travelled along the carpet to stare vacantly at the journals again; carrying the seemingly endless archive of his past. His jaw hardened and he wasn’t sure how he felt knowing that Juliet had the knowledge at her disposal; that the contents of the entry were open to her interpretation.

The name was sour on his tongue as he tried to resist saying it: Harken, a name he’d once used to operate his life under that had later sealed his demise. It was a bitter thought; an old one that he shouldn’t have even allowed to surface. “I remember,” he admitted, aware after the prompt of the particular night she’d glimpsed at. He couldn’t bring even a slither of a smile to his face after the initial mention and even as he let the drink he’d just downed settle inside him, the little bubble of anger remained. He couldn’t find the words he wanted to say, he wasn’t convinced he wanted to say anything on the matter. There are worst nights she could have read about – the massacre, child’s play back then.

Dryad had a penchant to find the worst in every one of his memories, constantly comparing the particular years that were swamped in the all too alluring darkness. He didn’t want to explain about Harken to her, he didn’t want to open the vulnerable wedge that had already been pried open when his walls had crumbled. Raiden didn’t even want to be mad anymore, he was just so unbelievably beaten from the idea; from himself and how he was constantly fighting against his thoughts; tugging against the trust he’d place in the woman seated in his chair across from him. There was no denying he was angry, but there was nothing much he could do about expelling it without some long-lasting damage; another thing he didn’t want.

“I believe you wouldn’t do it again,” he eventually managed to say, lifting his head up towards her with the trying start of a smile. “I suppose you connected the dots yourself about how we’re different, Juliet.” He added, knowingly referring to their once conversation of makers; they had not the same experiences. He turned slightly from his slouched position against the archway of the room and snagged his glass from the side, intending to refill it.

The glass shattered in his grip, the force was unexpected – even for Raid who’d believed he’d contained his temper well thus far and he frowned, shaking the crystalline flakes off on the inside of his hand. The delicate flutters of the fragments didn’t hide that his palm was bleeding where the sharp edge of the cracked cup had caught him and with an annoyed sigh, he silently scooped up the broken pieces and pushed them up against the wall on the table. He wasn’t going to concern himself over it, he was finding every reason to listen to Juliet’s words and pay half a mind to them. So, he ignored the mishap; even though it was a realisation that Raiden had not got a visible handle on his temperament.

Don’t punch a hole in the wall. He halted his fist from rising from the clenched position it had formed at his side. Shaking his head, he loosened it with some tightness in his movements. “I suppose you could find that revelation ironic,” he returned, considering that even as a vampire, his mind and memory was not healed from his past life. It had carried over in immortality. “but what is done is done.” As much as it was finality, there was a sigh to the statement and his movements were calculated for a few moments after - just in case he did feel an overwhelming urge to do something he’d regret later. Perhaps it’s all part of the redemption? Dryad resisted scoffing at the prospect, the idea was frivolous, he wasn’t sure how sharing any part of himself with the woman was at all redeeming and he wasn’t going to begin travelling down that path of thinking right now.

Feeling that scratching claw its way up his throat again, he opted for something that wouldn’t send his senses into a more primal state and crossed the living room. The decanter was on the chair next to where Juliet was sitting and to its right was an ashtray, a grey box of cigarettes rested up against it. That’d help. Quietly, from next to the other vampire, he plucked a straight from the box and rested it between his lips, glancing across the table for a light as he lifted the crystalline bottle lid off the decanter. “Help yourself,” he muttered quietly around the cancer-stick that was rolling between his lips. Raiden hadn’t moved to directly address her, but it was clear who he was talking to.

It was only when he found a box of matches and struck a thin wooden match across the sandpapery side of the cardboard that he began to settle in his hostility. One book; one journal; one entry. He could move on from that – she’d been obviously avoidant to pry too; a notable quality Dryad had noticed in her since the start of the conversation. But, he didn’t trust her. Not completely.

Long drag later; the welcoming burn down his throat settled him. Raid knew that if he didn’t much trust her, that he’d have to keep an eye on her; that his guard couldn’t fall and the only way he knew how to work that was to not give her any reason to want to dig up anything more about him. If she sated her thirst for knowledge, maybe she’d give up wanting to know; perhaps even put off. He trapped the cigarette between his fingers and blew out a mouthful of smoke; he’d probably regret having to wash the linens the odour would cling to, but it eased off the knot that was building inside him. “You say that now, but you have questions balancing on the tip of your tongue.” You always do, little bartender.

#julietxhawthorne #tw blood

[raiden-dryad]

At first, Raiden could ignore it. Drowning out the tapping whilst he was skimming through the Edgewood Guardian from the day past was doable enough. Catching up on what was going on in the town was a nightly thing when he could - he couldn’t exactly snag one in the early hours without risking fatality. He was sat slouched over the bar with an Americano to his left, fingers turning the pages of the thin paper thoughtlessly. When the tapping got louder and more frequent, Dryad began to take some notice.  It was almost comedic; the way he turned to address the source of the noise behind him and the fact something came flying at his chest at the same moment. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t react, it was the fact he couldn’t move out its crosshairs without some inhuman instincts at play and it caught him in the centre of his torso - with the pointy end. What the hell. Raiden spared a glance to where the pencil had ended up on the floor below him. The culprit was quick to apologise for the butterfingered accident. Raid looked back up at her, attempting to bring a genuine smile to his face - and not the current expression of irritation that he instead was sporting. “No casualties,” he announced, finding the quip in his lip after a few seconds of rubbing the agitation from his chest. “I think I’ll live,” he added a little more jokingly when he lifted his hand back to his coffee, aware that he might have seemed hostile in the public setting of Danny’s. He twisted on his seat and relaxed, over the accident when he realised the woman was harmless. “Was that pencil not a suitable drumstick?”

Phoenix couldn’t stop shaking her leg as she sat in the booth at Danny’s. While she couldn’t help but be in motion, she could not figure out the vector of motion in her physics homework. While friction equations were boring, the song coming onto her phone was much more exciting. She found herself humming, and told herself that it was loud enough in the diner that no one could hear her. 

The beat kicked up, and her pencil started tapping along. Before she knew it, she was performing a full on drum solo, and her pencil was–flying out of her hand and across the diner. It whacked someone in the chest–thankfully it didn’t poke an eye out–and clacked to the floor. “Oops!” Phoenix exclaimed, having just sat there and watched the attack unfold. She jumped up and ran over. “I’m so, so, sorry,” she said as she knelt to pick the pencil up. “My bad. Are you okay?”

#phoenix-castillo

[raiden-dryad]

julietxhawthorne‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

Juliet knew that her reasons, as small as they were, weren’t going to suffice. Taking the book, she now realized, probably would lead to the end of whatever it was her and Raiden were. Were they even anything? Drinking buddies, at the very least? Juliet wasn’t sure. She doubted Raiden considered her anything but another one of his species. And unfortunately, she had let herself grow slightly attached to the other. She cursed herself, knowing from the beginning that it had been a bad idea. And yet, she let herself care anyway.

She was so eager for company, eager to get to know him, that she didn’t think about any of the true consequences of her actions. Juliet pressed her lips together into a thin line and then ran her tongue over them. They were dry. She hadn’t had a drink in a couple of days and the smell of the blood in Raiden’s cup was causing her hunger to spike. Keep it in check, Juliet. You’re in his home. His domain. It’s not like he’ll offer you a drink now that you stole something that was his.

The older vampire wanted to apologize again. She honestly knew better than to take other’s belongings. But again, her curiosity got the better of her. Leon was always warning her about that. It’ll get you in trouble one day, Juliet. Keep it in check. He always said. “I understand that. I just… wanted to know more about you.” Juliet said quietly, not wanting to upset or anger him even more. It was ridiculous, how she was acting. She knew she could easily raise her voice, show him _that_ side of her. The more demanding and stern side. The side that knew she was his elder and she could make sure that he remembered that and not to question her. But what would that accomplish? Him hating her? Juliet didn’t want that.

“I only read one of the entries.” She said. “I didn’t continue after that.” She knew it wasn’t much reassurance, she did read one of them. But she wanted him to at least know that she didn’t go any further than the one journal entry. “December 8th, 1957.” She answered finally, her eyes meeting his. Juliet let that date settle in the air for a few moments before she moved to his living room and took a seat. She had no intention of leaving. Not now. Not until they finished the conversation, at least. She’d like to leave on a lighter note, but she knew she shouldn’t hope for such things. Not with Raiden.

Juliet could tell he was pissed off. Probably even more than that. She commended him for not snapping yet. She honestly expected him to hit her, grab her and throw her against the wall and threaten to end her life. At least, that’s what she assumed the Raiden in the journal would do. This version of him though, she wasn’t so sure. “I know sorry isn’t an excuse, or even something that you want to hear, but I am. Sorry.” Her eyes flickered up again. “I over stepped. I know that.” Juliet nodded along with her words. She had to choose her words carefully, as to not anger the other even more. “I should have just set the book down.” She added. Although, she didn’t regret taking the book.

His admission made her oddly upset with herself. Here she was, trying to create some kind of real friendship with one of the vampires in town, and she nearly screwed it up over a book. Or maybe she had screwed it up, and he just hadn’t told her yet. “It made me realize that I don’t need to know any of your past.” Juliet admitted as she watched him closely. “I don’t need to ask question. I don’t need to know any of your story.” Even if she partly wanted to. The past was the past. “I don’t think of you any differently. I still like you. I enjoy your company. None of that frightens me or puts me off.” She motioned towards the journals he had on the shelf. “We are what we are and we can’t help that.” She shrugged her shoulders and added. “I’ve done shit too.”

The drink in Raiden’s hand was being used as a crutch; as a comfort and as a barrier to whatever temperament he needed to keep in check. He was letting the thirst consume him a little more than he’d like, slipping away from the world of restraint a little the more he consumed. Raid tended to have a more negative reaction when he was annoyed and right now, inside, he was pissed. There was no interest in easing the other vampire standing in his home either, he was a little more than done with the whole thing.

The one thing that kept him at his distance from her was that she seemed truly genuine, even through her betrayal and sly actions. Juliet was honest about something. It was a vulnerability he didn’t want to ever let show, to anyone. Is that why you’re so pissed, Rai; she saw your vulnerability? It wasn’t about what she thought of his actions, Dryad was considering his own agitation spurred from letting another one of his kind see him for the things he was; a stage of vulnerability, because that’s how he saw it, that he was caught in a trap with Harken that spiralled into darkness.

“Why do you care?” he scoffed, not ever choosing to pry on the woman’s own past, so the thought that she was adamant to pursue his was different; the unknown. Dryad hesitated when she revealed what she had read, and he had to really dig deep into the depths of his mind to recall that exact day. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. Raid struggled to pinpoint what he’d have written in ’57, it had seemed a blur; a swift year of chaos and whatever she’d read wasn’t immediately easy to find in his spotted memory. If he wanted to know, he’d have to ask her.

“What happened December of ’57, Juliet?” he inquired, his voice a little quiet where he’d been lulled into the dark thoughts of his mind. Now he’d begun opening up those memories; the ones that were scattered in snippets in the front of his mind, he was struggling to bury them. Raid couldn’t help but close his eyes, his hand moving to press the side of his head and he attempted to think of something else, anything else that wasn’t the product of the man he used to be. Is it still ‘used to be’, or still is? He’d automatically trailed behind her to his living room, it was his turn for answers and whatever had happened some sixty years ago was not easily pulled from his mind – not without a prompt. Are you sure you want one?

The conflict in his head was clawing at him and in some further attempt to drown it, he finished his glass and let it clatter to the side table in the drawing room. The action told him how hard he’d been crushing it and he was surprised to see some pressure cracks travelling up from the base of the cup. He grimaced at the sight; at how worked up he’d become. Dryad figured he should be better, he was relieved at least to learn she’d stopped at one entry and whatever horror that was, he figured by her actions she wasn’t all that bothered. Rai wasn’t even sure that was the word he wanted to use to describe it, but with his thoughts plaguing him; the battle in his head and the warring of whether he wanted to smash something or not was still very prominent. People make mistakes – some worse than others.

“I’m consumed with rage, I hope you know that,” he muttered, attempting to keep that livid temper out of his tone with some success. He remained standing on the edge of the living room, his tongue sliding along his lips In a bid to catch the remnants of blood that clung there. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him; how she’d expected him to react to any of it. But it wasn’t worth a physical spat, Juliet and her prying weren’t worth more than some bitter snarks. What he knew it would do, was wedge any kind of trust he’d unknowingly placed in the woman and that was more damaging for the both of them. He didn’t think she’d have been an enemy, but he had to consider the vampire may be at odds for a while; time might fix it. You both have plenty of that.

Dryad couldn’t help the silence that overcame him when she continued; when she broke from apologies and made her feelings very clear about him; what she thought of him. “Do you know why I write things down, little bartender?” he eventually asked, lifting his gaze from his journals to her on his chair. He was trying to come to terms that she was right; that despite her glimpsing into his past, it didn’t much matter to the present. It served the purpose Raiden needed it to; a reminder that he couldn’t let himself become the man who wrote the details of the gruesome acts he once committed. That didn’t settle his disappointment than ate at the simmering anger. “They’re not because I enjoy writing them – it’s not so I can show the world the horrors of what vampire are.” The words came out begrudgingly and he was torn between even explaining to her why he was so furious with what seemed like such a minute gesture. “It’s because I cannot let myself forget who I was - am, Juliet,” my memory doesn’t serve me like yours does. “It’s not about –“ but he cut himself off, shaking his head as he realised, he was just as vulnerable now as he ever was.

Raiden hated that. “I’m sure we’re both shit creatures, that doesn’t make it any less like a betrayal.” he eventually decided on saying, telling himself that even if she’d brought a hurricane of his memories to surface, he was still in control of them; of himself.

#julietxhawthorne

[raiden-dryad]

julietxhawthorne‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

Juliet’s intentions wasn’t to make him upset or angry. Yes, she knew that those two emotions might be the consequence of her doing such a reckless thing, but she had hoped that he’d at least try to see her side. What was her side, anyway? Juliet had lost it walking to his house. She clearly shouldn’t have told him that she had anything to do with the book. She could have just quickly slipped it back in it’s place on the shelf and call it a day. But that didn’t happen. 

She watched carefully as he leaned against the fridge and then she noticed his fangs visible. Juliet pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to figure out how she was going to play this. “I was curious.” She said to him in a soft, quiet tone of voice. She really didn’t want to get into an argument with Raiden. She liked him, even with all of his constant attitude changes. “I didn’t know it was your actual journal when I first picked it up. I just thought it was a regular book and was curious as to what you were reading.” She admitted. “But when I realized it wasn’t…” She pressed her lips together. “Again, curiosity took over. And you… don’t necessarily… say much about yourself.” Juliet pulled the journal out from where she had tucked it in her waistband. “I just wanted to get to know you more, Raiden.” 

Juliet moved towards the living room, gently placing the journal back in it’s designated spot. She turned to face him. “You have every right to be angry at me.” God, she hated every second of this. All she wanted –what she desperately wanted– was to know him more. To know why he was the way he was, and if he did have a softer side to him. But what she read instead was… traumatic. She definitely had her fair share of trauma, but she hadn’t even imagined Raiden would have went through such a thing. 

“I’m sorry.” She said as she took a few steps towards him. If he wanted to hit her, or let his anger out on her, she’d allow it. Just this once. Juliet knew she fucked up. “I’m really sorry. I promise, I won’t do it again.” She held her hands up, as if to surrender. “And if you want to get even… go for it. I have boxes of old, personal items you could take.” God, she hoped he didn’t do that. “Or you could… get even another way.” 

She still didn’t know him all that well. The Raiden in the journal definitely wasn’t the same Raiden standing in front of her in that moment. After reading what she did, honestly, she appreciated him more. She liked that she could at least understand a little of what he went through. Even if it was brutal. “I’m sorry.” Juliet said again, her voice quiet, almost at a whisper. The last thing she wanted to do was to make him even more angry. 

With all the patience he had left, Raiden did his best to let the woman justify her thievery. He was simply diverting his energy into making a drink. He could then at least keep busy and not let his hand crush the fridge door that he’d been gripping with some force. Perhaps you’re madder than you first thought?

Dryad’s tongue plucked at his teeth irritably, it should have been obvious; curiosity, why wouldn’t the woman who asked too many questions be curious of the man who dodged the questions.

The frown remained on his face when she continued to explain further. “Hm,” he murmured, but it was closer to a grunt to her feeble justifications. Raid did well not to interrupt as she stammered out her words - pausing to push forward her points. He knew he shouldn’t have been as irritable as he was. It was just a journal, one of his scrawling books, likely illegible to most anyways.

She probably knows how to read cursive Rai. His gaze darted upwards when she presented the book at him, his fingers twisting the canister in his hand shut and returning it to the fridge in some thoughtful silence. Dryad wanted to compose himself before he lost a handle on everything he’d pent up since arriving at Edgewood - he’d been better, good, almost. It seemed it took very little to unravel that progress.

Raiden did think carefully; with some purpose so he didn’t just retaliate in some blind temper. “I don’t talk about myself, Juliet, for good reason.” he muttered, grinding his teeth a little before he brought the drink to his lips to take a sip. It eased the tenseness in his muscles just that little bit. He knew he couldn’t retort with ‘you should have asked me.’ Because Rai knew exactly what the outcome would have been and she’d have likely taken it upon herself either way.

For that, he wasn’t allowed to be angry. Not for that reason on its own. It was himself for thinking the woman wasn’t as sly as she’d made out - that he’d misplaced his trust in the wrong person. He was trying to listen to what she was saying, but he didn’t enjoy that she was still apologising. It seemed redundant by this point, they were both too old for trivial apologies of betrayal.

“What did you read?” he asked quietly, breaking gaze from the red liquid in his glass to throw his sights on the woman in the entranceway. He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say; to do; to react. But for someone so opposite to him, he could only assume it wasn’t to praise him for his unethical actions of the past.

Why do you care what she thinks? The thought cropped up, stayed echoing in his mind for a few moments before he glanced away to the side to consider it. He didn’t know why it mattered; wasn’t sure why he was so furious that she glimpsed into the dark, even for a moment.

“I do not care for your private things,” he began in a hiss, wavering off her ridiculous notions to get even. If he were to retaliate, it wouldn’t nearly be with trinkets and materialistic items; it would be with blood, and that was exactly the man he wanted to keep locked away in the pages of his journals. “It’s a matter of privacy, it’s one thing to misread a sentence or two,” he knew he’d left a book out that day, he just hadn’t thought much of it; hadn’t thought the woman was as she was. “but to take something of mine and read it knowingly -“ he sighed, frustration evident in his features as he attempted to reign himself in and remind himself that, it was just a book.

“I thought more of you,” he admitted, his own idiocy resonating within him and he paused to take the drink in his hands and step back from her when she approached, if she got any closer, he’d do something he’d regret. “Did it satiate your hunger to know, Juliet?” he eventually asked, his eyes downcast to the substance at the base of the cup. He wasn’t sure himself where - or when, she had read about but he was certain it wouldn’t be his luck to be a pleasant one. Tapping a finger on his glass, he finally asked the bitter thought - not sure again why he much cared to know: “So, what do you think of me now?”

#julietxhawthorne

[raiden-dryad]

heatherpayne‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

She scowled, getting actually annoyed. Heather took too much pride in her ability to do things well. But, a part of her was worried that her fighting was still untested. “Well, I can’t show them to you here, can I? But it would be some free entertainment for your club.” She glanced over at the dancers she’d been ignoring. That was definitely not her preferred type of entertainment. 

“The learning experience is on both parties: the student and the teacher.” Heather knew how to teach herself things, a necessary skill for a scientist. As much as journal articles were extremely useful in her work, they didn’t quite cut it for something so physical and interactive as fighting. Oh, she had gone through all of the theoretical points about combat, but had trouble applying them even in controlled settings. But, would Raiden prove to be a good teacher? “I’m sure that I can manage to teach you a few things as well.“ She smirked. “How is your knowledge on synthetic polymers?” 

She paused to think on her reply. She was extremely determined and wanted to do excellent. She never accepted anything less from herself. Yet, she couldn’t tell him what was driving her. Would he be willing to train her for as much as she was asking? “I want to get great, and I will keep up,” she said seriously. “I want to be able to fight of threats, whether they be from our world or the mundane one, without relying on magic.” Because magic hadn’t been enough to her family. And her active power was one of protection, not one built for enacting revenge. 

Heather snorted. While she had put the effort in to try and track down more information about Raiden, she definitely wasn’t thinking about him that often. She had been looking forward to another snark session, but she wouldn’t admit that. Heather threw her hand dramatically over her head like a damsel from Victorian times and said with an overdramatic flair, “Oh, Rai, I think about you day and night. I can’t get your big muscles and sharp teeth out of my mind. I lie awake waiting for you to whisk me away to your castle.”  She dropped the act and fixed him with a challenging stare. 

Heather’s first reaction was to be offended. Have you always been like this? That was never asked about being something good. She prepped a sarcastic comment on her tongue. But she flashed back to a different life, one that seemed a lifetime away. She was happier to focus on science for the sake of learning, solving puzzles without much concern for the consequences. And she had had her mom and aunt, but hadn’t appreciated them enough. You never know what you got until it’s gone. She shook her head as she took the drink. She swirled it around on the bar and looked into as if the apple cider contained all of the secrets of her life. “No. My life and focus were pretty different before.” Before what, she didn’t elaborate on. 

She was relieved that he didn’t act betrayed at her revealing the lie. She knew that she was always angry when she found out things had been kept from her. Heather smiled at him already slipping into a nickname from her name. It could use some work from just being the first letter, though. There was so much that she could tell Raiden, but she had had enough spilling of her guts for one night–even if by most’s standards she had barely opened up. There was nothing else he needed to know right now. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “Well, the truth is; I’m actually a blonde.” She snorted in amusement as she leaned back. “Just kidding. I would make a terrible blonde. I think I pulled of blue pretty well though in college. The black in high school was just a phase, I swear.” 

The thought of the woman being any kind of entertainment in his club was pretty farfetched and unlikely. It didn’t mean that the idea wasn’t worthy of one of his shit-eating grins as he noted her scowl. “I look forward to this entertainment,” he remarked, easily implying that he would, despite his doubts, like to see what she was made of. Raiden also liked the idea that it would be entertaining at the very least because he enjoyed how she didn’t settle for his taunts either.

“That’s right,” he began, leaning over the bar to meet her gaze again. Dryad had forgotten one of the more prominent common grounds they shared. She’d told him during their last encounter that she was a budding scientist. “you’re studying chemistry,” he recalled, quite amazed himself that he’d been able to pull that snippet of information back out of the depths of his mind. Materials Science, she’d said. It seemed that she probably could teach him a fair few things where his knowledge didn’t stretch to her specialism. He wasn’t going to let her know that though. With a knowing smirk, he teased: “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

Raiden leaned back a little, contemplating her determination to succeed. It carried over well to him; it appeared motivated. Dryad wasn’t one to pry at it either – why she wasn’t maximising her magic, he had no idea. That was likely something he wouldn’t get to know either. He’d seen her vaporise a bird from the sky, that was more lethal than most things a sword might do. The concern Raiden had at that moment was knowing that he wasn’t patient – teachers needed to have a level of patience to really be any good; the witch would have to truly be motivated in herself to get over that hurdle, because he wasn’t going to offer her reasons to continue on her path.

He ran his tongue across his teeth before answering, observing the severity of her tone when he’d made his deductions. “I believe you,” he admitted, glancing down to the liquor on the bar to fix himself a drink. “But I’m not one to take pity if you fall behind.” He added, flicking his gaze back up to hers for a moment to assess whether she faltered in her intentions. Instead, he was reminded that the witch was good at the dramatics; it earned his laugh. He didn’t think it needed much of a response either. “I knew it,” Raiden could see that she was throwing around the humour with ease; he liked that about the witch. Dryad wasn’t sure if by the change, he’d hit a nerve. It hadn’t much crossed him that it wasn’t as rhetorical or humourful as their normal jibes – he hadn’t much expected an honest answer either. He sipped his drink, eyeballing how she swished hers for comfort. He knew that look; he often wore that look; caught up in thinking of something in the past. Raiden wasn’t much one for comfort, but even as he pushed aside the thoughts of his own history, he did his best to make a not so good joke on it. “Mine too.” he chimed with a quip of his lip before pushing back off the bar side to neck the liquor he’d poured. It didn’t take much of a genius to tell that neither one of them were much for jumping on the sharing train.

By her continued jibing, Raid took that as the answer being: nothing more you need to know, and despite the shift in topic, he was smiling at the reminiscence of her school hair colours. It was odd to hear the reference to youth like that when he was so long past it and she probably wasn’t much past it at all. Quirking an eyebrow, he glanced at her current colour and shrugged. “I think if that’s the only thing you’re hiding, we might be good.” he pointed out, deciphering whether they’d somehow indirectly come to an agreement. Dryad was a little more reassured he wasn’t making an enemy of the witch. “Where did you say you trained, H?” he queried, wondering if they’d be in a public eye if they took up space there. He considered the idea of shifting the furniture of his drawing-room aside; it’d probably be a big enough space, but that would rely on Heather trusting him enough to consider the private training session.

Booze and Blades

#heatherpayne

[raiden-dryad]

valeriebianchi‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

Valerie, the voice came but the woman was too busy explaining herself and looking at all the details in the painting. Valerie, again came the voice and this time Val could hear the growl behind it. Not that it stopped her quite yet either way.

Keep reading

Everything Valerie did, Raiden was all too aware of. The smallest details were unavoidable; the way her instincts reacted; with some speed she likely shouldn’t possess. He could feel every little shift in her emotions like an invisible thread incessantly yanking at him. It took all too long to gain her attention and Dryad was grinding his teeth together in some bid to keep the last of his patience intact. He didn’t look up to the painting, he was concentrating on the woman who was looking him up and down. The thumping of her heart felt ever louder now that he was within close proximity of her and he no less than growled as she began yapping again.

Fortunately, she’d paid mind to his words and halted mid-sentence and finally, it seemed she realised that he wasn’t joking around. Raiden’s eyes narrowed a little whilst he both felt and witnessed the fleeting emotions: fear. It rung out to him like a bell amongst everything else. He was a little glad to know she wasn’t all that idiotic to trust him entirely.

Lip ticking upwards as he continued to move across the room, he only glanced back to catch her in his periphery. “Won’t I?” he returned with some bite, pausing at his dresser to find himself some jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. Raid, with some clear annoyance in his movements, threw the top over his head and stepped into the bottoms on his way to the kitchen. It wasn’t usually what he paraded around in, but in his own home – and given the company, he wasn’t in any mood to do any more clean-up right now.

Sighing, he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling in the corridor, practically praying for the strength to not find everything the woman said irritating. Raiden needed to dull the thirst; his annoyance was partially due to his hunger choking him. He was convinced he’d calm down when he had a drink. But her constant rambling was earning more than his ire, so he was thankful that she’d opted for the option to shower and leave him at peace for at least a short while.

Dryad heard the latch of the door go and the distance was already an improvement by the time he’d gotten to the kitchen to fix himself a drink. Like clockwork, he opened the fridge and picked up the last canister. You’ll have to make a stop later. It was a mental note as he twisted the lid, welcomed the familiar, alluring scent and gulped a mouthful directly from the can. Immediately, the tension loosened from his muscles and he rested lazily against the counter in the kitchen. He wasn’t so much able to sigh in relief before he was already taking another sip.

Raid knew that his sweet relief would be short-lived and that he’d promised Valerie answers to whatever questions she’d formulated in her head – to explain what he’d done to her and how death suddenly meant a lot more to her for a day than it might ever in her life. He also wanted an answer to his own prying question: what the bloody hell was Valerie? All he’d pinpointed from her blood was that there was something there that wasn’t all human. He wasn’t even sure if it was worth going back to bed if she was just going to be a pest all day. Looking towards the archway leading to the corridor, he snapped his tongue on his teeth and wondered how tolerant he could be of her newfound constant yapping.

Unexpected 24hr Aftermath -Valerie || Raiden

#valeriebianchi #ok so this is a horrible reply #thank you for your patience

[raiden-dryad]

maxinebeauchamp‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

At the question, Maxine kept a friendly smile. “It is. Not that it’s a bad thing. There was a bit of a ‘lost’ expression on your face when you walked in,” the woman clarified. There was also the fact that people entering alone were much more obvious to her. Usually it was the same few people that came to the club alone. Often these people (typically men) were looking for short-term companionship. Most importantly, she was one of the owners. “So what brings you to the club tonight?”

When the man proposed a toast, she gave a nod, a “cheers,” and continued cleaning behind the bar. Things were a bit slower since it was a weekday, but a small crowd of people were still dancing on the stage.

“Raiden - got it,” taking the card, she punched the card info into the system and handed it back. Seeing that he downed another glass very quickly, Maxine subtly reached for his mind to see if he was in a mentally okay state. But hit a wall. ‘Dammit. Another vampire?’ 

However, she was quick to mask the expression and move back to preparing another neat. “Here you are. Are you from out of town or in the area? Something about you strikes me as familiar?” Not quite, but she was curious to know if she would have to run into this individual frequently.

Breathing a laugh, he wasn’t offended at all by the deduction that he was lost amongst the sea of clubbers. Raiden had felt a little out of place upon first entering and his unease had settled rather quickly when he assessed the place for immediate threats. “I suppose there are worse expressions,” he remarked with a grin. “I heard some good things about the place,” Dryad added with a small shrug, refraining from saying who he had heard it from.  At her toasting, he stifled a laugh, realising that the gesture hadn’t come across as the intended ‘thanks’. He was still having culture clashes, even now. Raiden didn’t correct her, he just kept his smile in place. Nodding, he waited for her to input his data to her system and watched her with amusement. He’d put her down to friendly and welcoming, he could appreciate that in anyone.  “Do I get your name?” he inquired with a raised brow, wondering if that came across a little forward. He wasn’t sure if she’d be his bartender all night, but if she was, he’d be polite enough to use her name. Dryad thanked her as she made him up another drink, enjoying the broken tension of their conversation. If everyone was like her, he might be more tempted to frequent the place.  Another thing he failed to be able to forget was that Logan had told him it was a supernatural hotspot, it meant that perhaps the staff were on that spectrum too. Nothing jumped out to him about the woman serving him drinks, but he certainly didn’t let the thought bypass him too easily.  “I’m in Ashland,” he admitted, lifting a brow at her jibe for his familiarity, he couldn’t tell if she was digging, or if she was genuine. It seemed that he couldn’t immediately get a reading on her intentions. “Recently moved several months ago now, it was Marylebone before that,” he threw on his most playful grin, not intending to divulge much past his past than that. “Have you always been here?” he asked afterwards, allowing her to assume how he meant it; the Underworld; Edgewood; the Outskirts, he’d note any of the information. 

#maxinebeauchamp

[raiden-dryad]

xavier-bennett‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

“It’s not, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I think that society would collapse if everyone was spontaneous all the time.” It wasn’t something that Xavier wanted to picture.

Xavier nodded as the man explained how long he had been in town. Not long at all, then. Well, hopefully he stuck around and got to know the area better. “Well, if it makes you feel better I’ve been here nearly a decade and I’m still finding new things, meeting new people. So don’t feel like you have to rush.”

“I’ve been here long enough to be a local, but I wasn’t born here or anything like that. Just kind of wandered into town one day and then never left.” That was an extremely simplified version of the story, but he wasn’t exactly one to go around spilling his guts to strangers, even when he was at his chattiest.

While striking up a conversation with a stranger on the sidewalk hadn’t been his objective when he’d left his house tonight, he found that he couldn’t really complain all that much. He was having more fun than he probably would have been having alone at the movies, in any case.

Raiden mulled the thought over for a minute, the quirk in the corner of his lip a telltale sign he agreed with the man. “But wouldn’t it be such an interesting day of chaos?” he teased the idea, picturing an entire world of collapse; ruin. It wasn’t an ideal world by any means and Raid had been far too close to small worlds just like it. “But we’ll try keep it as it is,” he added afterwards.  It was nice to hear that the other man was a little more acquainted with the town, it meant that he was able to hear a bit more about its amenities. If it had as many nooks as implied, Dryad figured he would certainly enjoy finding them over the span of years - or however look it took. “If it’s one thing I’m not worried about, it’s rushing time,” he chuckled, more to himself than the friendly guy in front of him. “that’s good to know though, I look very much forward to exploring all there is to see.”  “Wandering into town and never leaving - that’s an interesting one, something good enough to keep you then,” he mused, not prying for the details past what the stranger was sharing. Raid didn’t much care to dig up other people’s history, not unless it was proven worthwhile. He often took it as a sign they wouldn’t do the same to him; he didn’t want his past to be pulled at. Dryad shifted to some introductions - given that he was content with his conversation with the stranger. “I didn’t catch your name - I’m Raiden, by the way,”

#xavier-bennett

[raiden-dryad]

Raiden tossed his phone onto the mantelpiece lazily. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, there was a lot going on inside him. A lot of conflicts that revolved around betrayal and rage. It seemed excessive, the irritation that was fuelling the anger only wound him up further. It’s just one journal Raiden, you don’t even know which one she has. He’d only noticed when he went to put his latest one away, there had been a distinct gap from the usually packed shelves that he had drawn across one wall of the lounge. 

Juliet was the only one who was not necessarily smart enough - but possessed abilities to rival his own to take it without him noticing and that had been an oversight on his part. She’d hidden it well, considering he’d had no idea during their last meeting about when she’d stolen it, but he felt fooled by it entirely now. Women, Raiden, you should always have your guard up. Laughing to himself, he wondered what moral high ground he could take in regards to harming another vampire, did that ruin his plans for redemption? Did that count - since she was just as damned as he was? 

Five minutes, for the first time in a century, seemed long. Dryad hovered at the shelves, checking it appeared that only one was absent its rightful place. What do you think she’s read about you? The thought passed over him and he visibly grimaced, wondering what annoying, invasive questions she was going to throw at him. If it was something he learned very quickly about Juliet, is that she asked questions she really shouldn’t; she pried. 

Raid didn’t like being poked and pried at and certainly not about his past - or past self. Is it your past self though, or is that still the same man? The thought made him head into the kitchen for a drink and just as he opened the fridge door, the front door slammed open. Pivoting around the metal, he lounged against it and intended to visibly lose his temper at her. The one thing Raiden wasn’t going to do was let his guard slip this time. It wasn’t clear when his fangs had become visible, or when he was baring them at her but he managed to hold his tongue enough to offer her a chance. “Then, explain,” 

@raiden-dryad​

Juliet didn’t want to admit that she had taken Raiden’s journal, but she knew that he’d find out eventually. Juliet knew how to lie, she knew how to manipulate, but she honestly didn’t want to do it with Raiden. Instead, she’d rather try to get closer to him and get to know him more. Which was exactly why she snatched his journal in the first place.

As she approached his front door, her mind began going wild. She was going over in her mind how she was going to diffuse the situation if it got too heated. She didn’t know how Raiden was when he was extremely angry. Nor did he know how she was when it came to those emotions. 

She didn’t even knock. She grabbed the handle and pushed, expecting some resistant but it didn’t. The door open easily. A smile formed on her lips as she walked into his home and shut the door behind her. “Okay, before you say anything–” She walked towards his kitchen. “Let me explain.” 

#julietxhawthorne

[raiden-dryad]

Raiden had almost been certain he’d felt the morning sun tickle his skin when he’d made it through the door of his home. He was convinced that a second later and he’d have gone up in flames. His flesh was warm, it prickled as thought threatening him with the ability to erupt at any given moment. He’d not been so reckless since he’d stepped foot in Edgewood and the chaos from the night just gone was one of the more stupid decisions he’d made in a while too. Dryad felt the exhaustion and weight on his actions crushing him and sapping whatever energy Valerie’s blood had previously offered him.

Cleaning up the mess was something that was going to play on his mind for a long while, he’d forgotten how many loose ends he’d had to tie to make sure the loop was closed, and just so nobody screamed supernatural to the wrong people. Raid wasn’t ever a fan of compulsion, but last night left him with little option. And now he was leading the same woman who’d been front row to the nightmare into his home and giving her sanctuary for a day whilst his blood swarmed her veins and healed the injuries she’d sustained. With that came some side effects, one of them Raiden was feeling first-hand; her emotions were tapped into him. As temporary as he knew it was, it was a discomfort to be feeling the absolute confusion that was swimming in Val’s thoughts and pushing all the feelings into him that he wasn’t wanting to deal with.

Dryad hadn’t wasted much time in escorting the woman to the spare room, pointing her in the direction of the bathroom and intending to retire to his own room where he could recoup his energy. He’d have a drink when he woke up. If he started now, he wasn’t likely to stop, and he was looking to minimalise the contact with Valerie until his blood passed through her system and he could return to his routine. Being haunted by last nights events was probably going to be forefront to his memories and he was going to end up writing about it in his journal; unable to let himself forget those things even if his mind wiped it for him.

Even when Raiden was undressing for bed, he could feel the little niggle of Valerie’s unease worming its way through him and naturally, he glanced back to his shut door as if expecting her to crumble into some kind of breakdown on the other side of it once what had happened hit her. For someone who was subjected to some life-threatening circumstance, she’d taken it well. She’s also not said a word since you left her home. Raid did not intend to play calming companion to her, not until he was well-rested and fed again at least, for both their sakes. As long as she didn’t die in her sleep and start a whole new eternal hell, he was going to allow her to let his blood run its course.

It’d only been what felt like minutes when Raiden was jostled awake by some footsteps in his room. He was already aware with who it was and naturally, he contained his instincts to lunge at the woman intruding into his room. Then she began talking. Like a child, desperate to drown out the noise, he threw the pillow over his head and attempted to ignore her whining about clothing.

It proved useless after a few seconds and he threw the cushion away from him and to the other end of the bed before appearing on his feet in front of the drawers. He was irritated beyond rationality and it contrasted her ramblings; her feelings that his blood in her system allowed him to pick up on. “Valerie,” he hissed, attempting to quieten her constant rambling, he could tell it was brought on by some shock of the situation and he hardly glanced at the painting on his wall, uninterested to talk art with the woman who was not in her right mind. Sighing, Dryad’s fingers yanked open the drawers, his grip a little rigid as he contained the urge to break the woman’s neck. With your blood in her system, bad move, Rai. It took him all of a few moments to find some shorts and a t-shirt and toss it over to her, he wasn’t going to make crude remarks about her being in underwear, not like he normally would. He didn’t care that he was just in his shorts either. “Valerie,” he growled again, realising she was not ceasing on her talking.

Shutting the drawer, he didn’t immediately hear the woman move to the other end of his room to admire the painting that was hanging the length of the far wall. Raid was not all keen to know his blood had perked up some of her senses – he figured with that, some abilities. Keeping his hands curled into the drawers, he turned his head in her direction. For a moment, he was tempted to leave her there and go find a drink to stop the scratching that was clawing at his throat in some flurry to remind him that he’d drained his resources cleaning up the mess he’d caused. He still didn’t even know what Val was. Instead, relieved to hear her stop talking for even a moment, he walked up behind her.

“Ask me again when I’ve eaten,” he muttered, attempting for it not to come across as morbid as it sounded. She knew what he was by now, dodging around the truth was just ridiculous. “I might not be so inclined to hurt you then,” he added with some venom before gesturing towards the door. He began to head towards the kitchen, hoping she’d follow – without breaking into another bout of endless talking would have probably been too much to ask. But he could hope.

Unexpected 24hr Aftermath -Valerie || Raiden

Valerie Bianchi was a shifter that changed the appearance of her face-something that would do her absolutely no good right now. What this female needed instead was to wake up from this very long horrible nightmare that she was having. Yes, that’s what needs to happen, she thought to herself.

Except none of this was a dream.

Keep reading

#valeriebianchi

[raiden-dryad]

maxinebeauchamp‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

On nights when the Underworld was understaffed, Maxine stepped in as a bartender. Especially if certain guests came around. There were some people she preferred to keep a sharp eye on. Plus, being out meant it was much easier for her to closely monitor the guests. Or, more honestly, read their minds and stop drugs from circulating around her club. She had a reputation to maintain and it felt like there were some older residents of the town just waiting for the thumping club to slip up and go out of business. Not on her watch.

Just as the woman was eyeing the floor, mindlessly cleaning the bar, a man approached. “Sure thing.” She flashed a charming smile before beginning on the order. At the additional request, her brows pulled together a bit. But then noticed the spot he’d set his arm in. “I’ll get that wiped up right away.” And the woman kept her promise. Once the drink was ready, Maxine set the glass in front of the man. Then, diligently cleaned the mess the previous customer had left. “First time at the Underworld?” She couldn’t help but ask. Although people came in from out of town, it was rare they did so alone like this man seemed to. Plus, the demeanor he gave off was not very relaxed. “And would you like to start a tab?”

After the immediate unease had settled, Raiden felt a lot more comfortable in the unfamiliar place. It was mainly because he hadn’t clocked anyone as trouble - yet and that, above all, assured him that he was likely to enjoy the evening and get to know the clubs in the area. I suppose from a business perspective, you’d call it the competition? Business was usually something he left down to Harken, Dryad was the one who did everything either side of the paperwork; the one to get his hands bloody and that was always the case. Whether it was playing physician or man of the Underground. Stop thinking about all that, you’re not there anymore - you’re not any of that here. 

A woman’s pleasant voice chimed in from behind him and he twisted back around towards the bar to nod a thank you to the bartender who’d taken his order. Throwing a matching smile on his face, Raiden lifted his arms back off the corner of the desk and let her mop up the spillage. She seemed friendly and Dryad couldn’t help but nod again at her question. “Is it that obvious?” he queried with a raised brow, hoping to have not appeared that foreign in a club. He was doing his best to show restraint, he’d just wanted to check out the hotspot for one night. So far, it hadn’t been awful. You’ve been here fifteen minutes, just wait. 

“Cheers,” he added, glancing down to slide the glass in his direction before he necked the drink. Raiden pushed the glass back across the bar counter, tongue swiping across his lips quickly. It took him a moment to wonder if he should open a tab - did that imply he was going to be here all night? Was it something all the night-goers did? You want to curb the cravings, take the tab and order more drinks. 

Dryad reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and slid a card from his wallet, offering it over to the woman the other side of the bar with a grin. “Names, Raiden, for the tab,” he offered with a grin, shifting his gaze between the now empty glass and the women. “So, I suppose we better keep those neats coming,” he jibed, not wanting the remark to come across as rude more so than friendly. After a few, he’d likely switch to ice; he’d take a seat and sip them so he could spectate the club in its glory. 

#maxinebeauchamp

[raiden-dryad]

mcnicarcdriguez‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

“That,” Monica began, regarding the coat though she was addressing his words, “is not a bad idea.” There were still a few of the same coat on the rack, but asking the front to hold onto it for the day (just in case, like he said) while she continued to shop around was smart.

“I mean, even if I do find something somewhere else, better to have this on hold here and have not needed it, than need the hold on the coat and have not gotten it.” Decision made, she folded the coat over her arm with the intent to bring it up to the front. “You probably will, if you live locally. It’s a surprisingly small world around here,” she agreed with a grin. “I’m Monica, by the way,” she continued, offering her free hand to him.

Smirking, Raiden played on the woman’s friendliness. “I come up with good ideas, sometimes.” he shrugged, knowing that if he wasn’t set on a purchase, he’d probably be likely to ask for a hold on it - but he’d have to be really interested in it and between decisions to not just buy it outright. Gradually, it became obvious that he’d recovered from his eco-friendly remarks from before.

“Absolutely, think of the heartbreak you would feel if this was the one and you return to find it is gone.” he feigned a gasp but was unable to hide the amusement on his face. Dryad watched her secure the jacket on her arm and spun back around when he realised she wasn’t entirely finished. He didn’t want to be rude either. “I’ve noticed, small-town” he joked, recalling the multitude of people he’d met and how frequently he’d crossed paths with them. He wasn’t likely to forget the jacket lady either - despite his occasionally unreliable memory. “I can’t seem to escape some of them,” he added, a particular vampire springing to mind - though, they’d been slowly growing on him as of late. 

“Raiden.” he greeted, lifting his free arm to meet the woman’s polite gesture. “Good to meet you, Monica.”

#mcnicarcdriguez

[raiden-dryad]

Juliet ↠ Raiden

Juliet: I suppose you're right.

Juliet: I'm only sly when I'm curious.

Juliet: And it's not like you give me any choice. You never say anything about yourself. [unsent]

Juliet: I'll be at your place in five minutes.

Raiden: Curiosity killed the cat, little bartender.

Raiden: But good. You'll be better off for it. - RD

#julietxhawthorne #textjuliet

[raiden-dryad]

logancree‌:

raiden-dryad‌:

Narrowing his eyes, Logan met Raiden’s and smirked while his words spilled out, “Why don’t you answer that for me mate? Tell me, how many of those special drinks have you had in order to quench your thirst for this past hour hmm?” The man paused a bit and chuckled as he added, “Or have you already had a full nights meal in order to make sure you didn’t loose it in front of another civilian like myself?” Cree taunted, knowing full well that he shouldn’t have. But to Logan, someone who questioned another vampire who was older such a question with confidence didn’t sit well with him.

Maybe it was because that’s what the man had learned from his own maker or maybe it was because Logan had not wanted to make the other creature like himself, feel obligated or forced or even tempted to have the real deal and not being able to control himself? What did you expect Logan? A pat on a shoulder, a thank you for not tempting another like yourself to have more and more blood until you convinced yourself you were satisfied? The vampire simply never learned.

Turning his gaze from Raiden, Logan lifted his drink to his mouth and finished in with one gulp; it was most definently not going to be one he would order again. Swallowing hard, both the drink and his temper, Logan then added, “You will soon learn that in this town, people like us have to act civil whether we like it or not.” The vampire then lowered his voice as he continued-though he knew Raiden would pick it up without an issue, “There are other creatures who do not fall so easily to our compulsion. Therefore, we never know who we will run into.”

Cree then let out a cold and heartless laugh out as he turned to meet Raiden’s gaze once more. “Reminiscing about the days past mate? We both know that will never happen-most definatly not from my part.” Logan Cree had simply too many years that he wanted to stay hidden.

Logan’s eyes looked away and a sigh finally escaped his body. The vamp didn’t need another enemy on his growing list; he needed quite the opposite. Those are truly hard to come across Logan, don’t be such a fool. And yet, deep down Logan Cree knew his life’s purpose-human or not-was not to be an “evil” vampire. “Look Raiden, I understand mate. Hell, if a stranger,” he paused and barley whispered, “vampire,” before continuing on, “came to me and warned me to keep my head down, I would say: to hell with you” and move on. But…regardless of what your opinion of me is or will become, I do not wish for any more of our kind to suffer unjustly. I’ve gotten my fair share of attention. Yes. But a majority of it was not by choice.”

Cree stopped then and wondered if any of his words would make it through the younger vampire or if his early discussion had ruined any chance of an alliance to be made. Face it Logan, neither one of those choices are going to come out in your favor, the vampire thought. Though his “more human” side of him continued to disagree. “I apologize if I have overstayed my welcome or have crossed a line in some way mate. I truly am only here to inform you that you are being watched, and not by myself. That, and of course, to meet the famous Crossroads.” He ended with a smirk.

Raiden’s eyes lifted carefully to assess the other vampire’s ruse. He wasn’t a big fan of the statement; it was a little too assuming for Dryad’s liking and he was hoping to get along with Logan a little better. Raid knew it wasn’t common knowledge that he was intentionally curbing all the urges that he could, that he had a well-established agreement with a money-driven doctor(s) – he wasn’t’ entirely without morals, he paid the people for their risks. Compulsion wasn’t something he enjoyed using and his own memory lapses were enough to deter him from using it on others without it being an absolute necessity. So, Logan’s manner didn’t sit well with Raiden.

“None at all,” he answered calmly, “you think I have such little control?” he added with a raised brow. Dryad wasn’t sure what the other vampire thought of him – nor did he care to know. Though, if the impression he gave off was as Logan was taking it, there wasn’t all bad behind it. If he thinks that, let him, works in your favour. Fear with others – vampires, specifically, was one sure-fire way to earn respect. He wasn’t sure he entirely respected the North Star owner yet, not past his drinking skills anyhow. It wasn’t entirely obvious how old the other male was either and for all Raiden knew, he was taunting, or being taunted by an older, more powerful individual too. Just in case, don’t antagonise him completely.

“If you’re wanting something more, Logan,” Raiden began carefully, throwing his gaze towards some of the dancers and customers that were disappearing behind the backstage curtains. Their quiet giggles and murmurs just about audible to Rai’s ears. “and I don’t want to doubt your control, but if you can contain it, I did promise a drink of your choosing.” But if you kill them, we’re going to have a problem. The moment the open offer passed the man’s lips, he flickered his eyes back to the other man, wanting to see the expression. It would be more important to see whether Cree took him up on it. Dryad hadn’t spilt blood in his club – much, and the only time with a vampire was Juliet in some lapse a while back. He wouldn’t engage in the same thing with Logan, it would be telling if the vampire across the bar chose too though.

With a small smile, he watched the distaste cross over the other male’s face and slumped on the bar counter to listen to the preaching. “Right, nice advice.” He murmured, practically wavering off the man who had he down completely wrong. “We also had a hierarchy, with a monarchy and the likes...” He was civil, up to this point and he wasn’t out to get into any mishaps in town, any supernatural he’d crossed paths with he’d dealt with and for some, befriended? He wasn’t sure if that entirely applied to everyone, his witch companion was in the grey area of friend or foe. Though, he was leaning more towards ally than anything. Who’d have thought you’d be considering making an ally of a witch? Snorting, he realised that his inner thoughts were not carried over to the vampire in front of him and he picked up on the next, not so friendly words.

It sobered him to reality again. “I was being sarcastic, Cree.” The words were deadpanned, and Raiden was certainly not in the habit of divulging anything from his past to anyone. It was his to bear alone – the things he could remember at the very least. He didn’t need some other vampire to coddle to about anything of the sort. “Like I’ve said, I appreciate your concern. I don’t intend to get on their bad side.” He repeated, honestly. There wasn’t a need to hear Logan’s penchant for attention either, he was more the type to gain it than Raiden was on his current redemption train. Above all, he didn’t want Logan bringing trouble to him. There had been a mutual respect in North Star, Raiden had watched his footing and played the game of being on another’s territory, Cree was borderline doing the same. His apology earned Dryad’s favour back, just a little.

“I’ll bear it all in mind,” he finally sighed, tongue snapping up on his teeth as he dragged his arms back off the counter to a stand. “Are you staying for another drink at all, or have you seen enough of the Crossroads for one night?”

Vampire’s Restrictions

#LoganCree