Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths...

Red

He’s wearing a red tie and despite herself, Jenny starts at the sight. She’s half-ashamed at herself, and the other half is embarrassed because when he pulled her closer, she flinched and he asked if he’s done something wrong. His voice is soft, nervous and the third thing she fell in love with. It’s right behind him and his eyes. He’s not a big man, and his palms are much too small for someone who has such a dangerous job but when he holds her, she never doubts for a moment that she is protected.

It’s what makes the old superstition so silly. She doesn’t meet his eyes when she tells him that he did nothing wrong so he doesn’t believe her. The fact her cheeks are turning red doesn’t help her as she stumbles out the library.

And she’s reminded again, why they can’t be together, they’re from two different worlds: old and new, steadfast and transient. She repeats it over and over to herself and then blushes more because of all the bad omens; it’s a tie that warned her.

He catches sight of her later when she enters the teacher’s lounge. She turns her head down, pushed hard into the papers she’s reading. She can see his eyes on her, searching. Watching. The lips that hide that voice are half-parted in thought and she thinks about them a moment too long before reminding herself it’s not possible.

Then he rises from the table he was sitting at, and walks to her. His hands are on his tie and the offending color disappears into a waste bin before she has the chance to look up and find him sitting beside her. He drapes one arm lazily around her frame, pulling her closer to him; despite all the reasons they shouldn’t. The immovable and evanescent, Romani and Gadje.

It feels nice to stop moving for once.


Appeal


Ripper rest on the balcony, cigarette neglected in his hand while inside, Randal is studying the spells like porno. For the kid magick is big; exciting. For Ripper, it’s simply deadly.

It’s a strange admission for someone as reckless as he appears, but the truth, it made the world harder and death come sooner. It demanded innocence as payment.

And all he wanted was one night without any demon to guide his steps. He wanted for humanity to be alone under the moon.

His brooding is interrupted by Randal’s explosion. He’ll go clean up the mess…

…like he always does.


Chaos

To say Giles mourned Ethan’s passing would be a lie. There were no prayers or tears; just a moment where he stopped, and realized that someone had left an empty place behind.

That was chaos was, after all, the true sort that Ethan worshipped. Empty places, not entropy, the option to create or destroy. So much about Rayne were misconceptions; not that Ethan cared or sought to correct them. He preferred it; in a world of monotony it added a bit of mystery. Soon there wouldn’t be anything fantastic left. He had to preserve it wherever he found it.

When he heard Ethan died, it was Giles’ first thought, before and after every harm Ethan had inflicted on him. That something fantastic had died. Something not likely to be seen in this world again. And in the next thought, half-bitter, and half-awed, Giles guessed Ethan would have approved the irony.