"Did you see that?"
Toril nods over the phone, feels dumb, then replies, "Yes I did," instead.
"We need to get that information."
"An opportunity is incoming," Toril whispers over his speaker, jostling his way through the overpopulated marketplace. He was finally done with signing papers for the Necromancer— he gave up knowing what he was signing after seeing a thirty-seven page breathing contract and hundred-and-fourteen page long hygiene contract— and immediately rushed out of the Mortis Mansion to meet his poor Nettie.
Evening had befallen them and his heart was striking cords to be with its other half again.
"What is it?"
"Czar Castello's Aningmoon Castle is being invaded today," Toril smugly announces. The market place embraces him with the odours of poverty. He stops by a stall and starts picking some fresh vegetables for dinner. The lady at the stall smiles kindly at him.
"By whom? When?" the voice over the phone sounded scandalized.
"The Necromancer. Tonight," Toril replies proudly, bagging a few greens and cherry tomatoes. He pays and moves ahead.
The line went dead. Toril scoffs.
He shoves his phone inside his pocket, uncaring of the consequences of making deals with dangerous people, and skips into a meat shop to get some beef.
"My Nettie will feast like a Queen tonight," Toril happily mumbles to himself after picking some good pieces for himself. The giant butcher eyes Toril with no hint of hospitality present or passing.
"How much?" Toril asks for the price. Mr. Buff Butcher coldly stares at Toril's lanky form, lips twitching upwards on the left.
"Yer nod from 'ere, aye?" The butcher questions back. His meaty neck is bent under the small roof of his shop.
"No sir," Toril replies courteously, shoving a hand in his pocket whilst holding the ingredients in another.
"Good. Me knows da mead around 'ere," The butcher coughs out landing his knife on the board with such force that Toril's whole being physically jumps at the impact.
Mr. Butcher laughs a husky, dragged, dry laugh and Toril accompanies him with a strangled laugh.
"You sure are dedicated," Toril compliments him, stepping straight in front of his line of sight. Though a counter's distance parted them, Mr. Butcher shadowed all of Toril's body frame.
"Sp—"
Toril sucks in a breath, grabs a vial from his pocket and throws it at Mr. butcher's face.
Mr. Butcher grunts and easily deflects it, thick eyebrows mushing together with extreme dislike.
"Bad." He grunts grumpily.
"Oops," Toril presses his lips in a line. The vial hits the stone wall and shatters onto the floor.
Mr. Butcher picks up his knife, with whatever moon-forsaken plan in mind, and stands up with glinting malice in his eyes and body now almost doubling in size.
"Ahem, excuse me sir, you know we can talk about—"
"Vampire..." Mr. Butcher sucks in a vengeful breath.
"Not really, wrong person," Toril smiles, unapologetically, and aims a cherry tomato straight into Mr. Butcher's mouth.
With his throat clogged, the vial's fumes seep through Mr. Butcher's button nose and embrace his brain like long lost lovers. Under the deception, Mr. Butcher falls to his knees in the clustered confines of his meat stall and bends over his knife.
"Ew," Toril scrunches his nose after seeing the big hoard of a man lying so immensely still after one kiss form death.
Splat goes his soul to the devil.
The fragile tranquility in death always astounded Toril. How mighty men of unconquerable fervour would lie so patiently still when cradled in Death's arms. Tame and composed.
Toril tips his hat to screen his face, then shouts out loud, "FOLKS, I SEE THE BUTCHER SLEEPIN'!! GET THAT MEAT FOR FREE!!"
Predictably, people hoard in numbers, bustling and hustling to reach and Toril easily slips away while munching on a cherry tomato.
<3
— "There's a fire outside, papa!".
— "Let the world burn, darlin', you're staying at home."
— "But we're IN the world!"
— "Then relish the last moments of your existence with kind consideration."
Ever since then, six-year-old Edith Chambers never took her life seriously anymore. Whatever she did, she relished in the moment for anything could be her last.
One day it's the world burning and the next day she'll be burning with it.
Because of it.
'All of this is the world's fault', Edith had came to a genius conclusion when she was eleven.
Do you ever just stand at a balcony and imagine yourself lying splat on the cold ground thirty floors below?
Or, when you are crossing the road, a sudden thought of some mad driver mushing your body into a disrespectful pulp cross your mind?
Or, when you are drenched wet and try to switch on a light— does the thought of instant death plague your mind? Or do you think that you'll rise as the next Electro?
That's paranoia.
And Edith has always been paranoid over the suspicion that she'll die a lame death.
It started with the news of next door neighbour, Aunt Henrietta's, passing away. They said it was constipation.
Edith had cried for two days.
Partly over the fact that her bickering neighbour and only source of entertainment was dead, and partly because stress made her constipated.
So, Edith stopped thinking too much about any of her actions, words, or decisions. She stopped thinking about consequences and henceforth avoided constipation.
Ninteen-year-old Edith thinks that six-year-old Edith was trash.
And all her actions, all her words, all her thoughts, all her decisions and all of her life that has built itself to this immensely immaculate crescendo— is nothing but a tragi-comedy.
Now, in the world of supernaturalism (which she still believes to be a high fantasy fever dream of hers) and magic, Edith Chambers is put to her death bed...
...because of a concussion.
In a world where she had the possibility of dying as a sacrificial human for some shamanistic ritual that saved the world. A noble hero.
Where she could be bitten by a vampire and choose to die rather to live on human blood for the rest of her life. A noble hero.
When she could have had been struck by some ancient magic curse and be dying to save the life of her one true love—
A CONCUSSION GOT HER INSTEAD?!
All of her life was a lie. Yeah. Oxygen is a drug and those who intake it, hallucinate a dream called 'life'. When one's supply is cut off, they go back to their original existence.
Yes.
Edith wholeheartedly believes in that now. Or with whatever is left of her beating heart. Spoiler alert, it's not much.
Edith had never been a rigid person. Acceptance came easy to her. Edith knows she has no say in this 'life' of hers. And she's almost glad that it's over...
Or so she believes...
Because amidst the darkness of her acceptance in death, there shines a light so blindingly brilliant that Edith feels like she is being transported into a whole new universe. Within that light, she sees glimpses of a face. It's absurd, vaguely familiar, yet someone whom she has never seen before.
She feels nothing, nothing bodily, but her mind is at peace. This was a safe place. A comfort zone. Warm and accepting. Though Edith never minded being in the dark, this light comforted her. It was beautiful. She liked it.
"Edith, do you like being in the light?" A strong voice echoed.
"I don't mind it for sometime, I guess. It can be a bother though," She replies to the nothingness. It's like talking to her inner voice, just somewhat masculine.
"Does the darkness comfort you?" It asks again. Edith looks around but finds no source.
"It's beautiful. It doesn't discriminate. In the dark, everyone is one and the same," Edith justifies her reply.
"You liked being blinded by one perspective." There's a scoff. It doesn't feel like mockery though, so, Edith doesn't question it.
"I don't care if it's a good one," She shrugs a reply instead.
There's an absurd laugh, it sounds like nothing but also holds the liking of everything. Edith thinks it's pleasant.
"I would like to take you as my master," The voice says.
"Aren't I already?" Edith's question is rhetoric.
"Not really."
Before the blonde could question why she wasn't the master of her inner voice, the light rushed at her. Into her. Through her. Engulfing her being with a blazing sensation.
She starts feeling again, bodily connections, and it's scorching her soul whilst pinning her body against a million needles. It tears into her back, splitting her skin and plants itself within her.
Her chest burns as she was hit by a shooting star.
Edith shrieks an ear piercing scream into the nothingness.
Her consciousness connects to it's body and Edith jolts up. Too quick. Her head smashed into someone else's and her whole being disassociated itself.
"Holy fucking fuck of fuckers fucking the fucks."
Edith grumbles sourly, holding her disoriented head in her hands and tapping her ringing ears with her fingers. Her breathing is escalated and body numbing cold compared to the sensations in her dream.
Julius is pushed back by Edith's unintentional assult.
He groans, holding a hand over his fragile forehead. "You're not worth a tittle of my efforts," He grumbles in her face.
Edith opens her doe eyes and the first thing she sees is the open door. A doorway of opportunity. A gateway to escape. A path to freedom.
Unfortunately, the first thing she hears are Julius' grumbling words.
How was she not dead yet? What did that dream mean? Why did it feel like she was dying for reals?
Edith sighs in despondency. She raises a hand in hopes to push Julius out of the way and speed into the arms of eternal happiness but fails, immensely, for her muscles ache as if someone pulled them apart and then dispassionately stuck them together in all the wrong holes.
Everything feels so wrong.
Her stomach grumbles.
Oh.
It's because she's hungry!
"Shut up you despicable rotten tomato sandwich, I'm hungry," Edith sighs bitterly, again, slowly lying back down. Julius, offended, scoffs and intercepts Edith's comforts by pulling her from the collar.
He pulls her straight up and looks her in the eye, almost spitting in her face, "Tell me everything you know about Marlin Stewart!!"
How— how does he know about Marlin of all people?
Their worlds couldn't be more different— like ours.
Edith, scowling at his audacity to pull her back up, flings his hand away and bounces back on the bed. "Who the fuck are you to know about him?"
"I am Julius Castello, the P—"
"Then again, trash suits well with trash. Never mind," Edith cuts in with a sigh, eyeing the evening clouds. They looked coffee soaked. She had promised herself to never let a thought of Mar-the-fucking-shit-lin affect her.
Julius, flabbergasted, opens and closes his mouth like a fish. Words fell short when it came to this— this— loathsome excuse of a finnicky human girl species!
"I heard it, bean bread," Edith's eyes leave the coffee cotton clouds behind the bars of the window and land on Julius' exasperated form. With all her energy, she flips him off.
If her being kidnapped had something to do with that piece of trash then fuck it. Let the world burn. She isn't gonna let a word out.
"How— after— ho— How can you do this to me?! After all that I have done for you!!" Julius snaps, slapping Edith's finger away while saying, "Shoo! Miss, shoo!"
Edith rolls her eyes at his antics.
"After what, harassing me and dragging me?" She counter questions.
Disbelieve captures Julius' soul alongside sadness and misplaced appreciation.
"Hypocrite," They both mumble at the same time.
"I saved your life!" Julius exclaims.
"When the fuck you delusional peafuck?!" Edith snaps back.
"Now! Just now! From the Quilibet!"
Suddenly, the horrors before her sleep crash into her system. She jolts up again, looking him in the eye. She did remember being traumatized, shouting, winning, spinning—
"W-what had happened?!" Edith asks, memories of her haunting floating in one by one. A strange coldness surrounds her.
"You were dying and I saved you," Julius replies, snobbishly caressing his collars and twitching his shoulders. As if waiting to be praised or appreciated.
"No body asked you to," Edith grumbles, a million unanswered questions hoarding her head.
Why did he come? How did he save her? What did he save her from? What is happening? Where is she? What happened after she passed out? What was the dream about?
"Ungrateful prick. Now pay back my kindness and tell me all about Marlin!" Julius all but orders with a whine.
Edith's eye twitches at his desperation.
"What are you, some obsessive teen crushing on him?" Edith looks him in the eye, her bitter brown eyes staring into the conflicted dawn of his. She lays back down and crosses her hands against her chest, "I didn't want to."
"That's not how this works!!" Julius stands up, marvelled at the integrity, or lack thereof, of this blonde cheesehead!
"Where's that ugly thing?" Edith asks suddenly, looking around the properly trashed room to find her secret tormentor. She does not sees it's hideous being or spots any shadows lurking around.
"I'm right here!" Julius waves a hand in her face, scowling. Edith scoffs, then notices his waving hand to have round blisters from a harsh burn. They weren't present this morning...did he get it because of her?
"Are you okay?" She sucks in a breath, nose scrunching and eyes twitching at the look of the injury.
Julius follows her line of sight then hastily pulls his hand behind his back. "Shut up, I'll heal quick."
"Are you a vampire?" Edith questions, almost innocent, while sitting up again. Her body felt increasingly better, though hunger still plagued her.
"No, I'm not!" Julius replies, absolutely repulsed by the sheer idea of the suggestion. His handsome face falls in a grimace.
Edith's lips mould in a 'o'.
"Then what are you?" Edith asks, blinking innocently with curiousity.
Julius scoffs, then grins childishly, "I'm not gonna tell you!"
Bloody beetroot bastard. Edith rolls her eyes and falls back again.
"Among beautiful artificial vampires and creepy shadowy creatures, how bad cloud you be?" Edith wonders out loud, eyeing him. He's the most human she had seen them around.
"A-a-ARTIFICIAL VAMPIRE?!"
Julius choking on words was a sight of rare brilliance. Mans just doubled over, coughing a fit as Edith sadistically watched him suffer. It was a sheer moment of utter peace and happiness.
It was fun while it lasted because his next move had her caged in his arms and being shaken for dear life.
"YOU MET AN ARTIFICIAL VAMPIRE?! WHERE?! WHEN?! WHO IS IT?! TELL ME?!"
Now it was Edith's turn to choke on her spit and cough a fit.
After regaining her temperament, Edith pushes him away and proposes with a mean smirk, "I'll tell you if you bring me food."
And that's how Edith spent an hour in educating Julius over the wonders of food art, happily indulging in procrastinated priorities, when they were attacked by an army of exorcised demon souls let out from hell.
Ha, supernatural fun. HeLp.