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[FREYA LAYANA WILBORNE]

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LONG LOST MEMORIES.

Freya looked out her window across the street where the ashes that remained of a house sat. the house had been torched two nights ago, and the woman and her three children were almost killed in the flames. Freya had barely gotten help before they were trapped inside until the firefighters came to the rescue. She wasn’t very good with situations like those. Every time she thought of some kind of tragedy, it always brought back those memories of her childhood. She has tried so many times to forget about her past, but it never lets her. it has a way of sneaking up on her accidentally, like right now. To her surprise, the memories were good ones. The ones where she and her family got along. Not the ones where her parents were always fighting, but the ones that showed how much they loved each other and how much they adored their daughter. She could remember sneaking over to Sam’s house and staying with him all those nights. He had been the best friend anyone could ever ask for. And then one day he disappeared, just like that. No sign of him spotted for years. until one day just a few weeks ago when she had spotted him in a Wendy’s. it wasn’t necessarily the place she ever imagined finding him, but there he had been. It was like some twist of events that made her forgive him partially for what he had done. She could understand why he wanted to disappear from the one place that brought back all those memories. It would have probably been a good idea for her to have done it as well, but her whole life was here. She couldn’t just leave everything she had built for herself. And she couldn’t leave her home.

She had found out a few days ago that she had a guardian angel. His name was Darien, and he had been her guardian throughout her entire life. He had watched over her and he had seen everything she had been through. Yet somehow she had never known or even thought he could be out there. She rarely ever saw him, but always felt him watching her. it was weird having someone watch over your life like a movie, but now that she knew about Darien, she felt much safer. Even though she now also knew about demons and the fact that that day at the coffee shop she was being chased by a group of them, she wasn’t as afraid as she should be. It was like some kind of weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

Freya felt the need to go on a walk. Her legs were feeling restless and she was not nearly as tired as she usually was. it was Saturday, so she wouldn’t have to work tomorrow, so she decided it would be alright to have one all-nighter. Usually she was like an old person, going to bed at nine and waking up at six. It was her internal clock that had kept her sleeping habits like that for her job. Freya grabbed her keys and walked towards town.

As she walked along the sidewalk towards town, she found herself in her old neighborhood. She stopped just as she was about to reach Sam’s old house and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She turned to see if anyone was behind her, but only saw shadows on an empty sidewalk. If something were to be following her, then she would have Darien around to help her keep them at bay. Of course she wasn’t going to be depending on him in every situation to save her, but she was sure he was around here somewhere. She could feel him watching her. So she moved on and passed his old house without looking into the windows too much. She wondered who lived there now and if they knew that his family had been murdered there. Could they haunt the house? Who was to say that ghosts were real anyways. She didn’t believe in them, but people did get spooked easily by the thought of ghosts and haunted houses.

Finally she arrived at her old home. She hadn’t heard of anyone ever buying the old thing. It was well known that her family had been killed in the house, so people were afraid to buy it. It had become old and run down, and sad looking. She looked up at it and wondered when the last time someone had been inside. She reached out and put her hand on the old metal fence and thought it couldn’t hurt to go inside. What was the worst that could happen?

She walked up to the familiar door and pushed it open. No one even cared that it was open because there was nothing left to take. There hadn’t been anything inside for years. she walked through the dusty foyer and into the dining room that was off to the right. She ran her fingers over the dust silently. The house seemed so quiet. It was never this quiet when she had lived there before. She roamed into the kitchen and looked out to the back yard that was nothing but dead grass and an old rusted swing set. She walked outside and sat on the swing set and looked back into the house. For once, her mind was silent.

CODED BY LADY RAINICORN @ CAUTION

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[NIKITA ETHAN REDFIELD]

between two lungs it was released

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the breath that passed from you to me

The previous attack in the forest had left the demon tired, a strange sense of lethargy that refused to go away no matter how much he slept. With Annette constantly on the hunt for his head as well as a plenty of other people which also included hunters and other supernatural alike. It was perplexing how so many creatures loathed his kind, how they had managed to come this far into being outrightly hated by many had always bemused him. Ever since his usual spot in the forest was stained by his own blood (damn that fucking arrow) Nikita had lost interest in finding it a spot to compose his work. The woods were not safe anymore, especially for the likes of him. A pity for he would not have minded spending more time among the trees and in the foliage the forest offered. It was quiet, and secluded him from the world. Solitude was bliss after all, and it seemed that recently he had been receiving less and less alone time for himself. As he wandered through the streets of the old town, he glanced down at his right index finger, examining the nick in it from Annette's arrow. The cut had long since healed, but Nikita could feel the ghost of it piercing his skin over and over again.

The demon was the type of person that actually enjoyed the simple things in life. As mediocre and hackneyed as they may be, he knew full well that this was life's way of showing that it would never stop for anyone, and showing just how much time could pass from one simple activity and encounter. From watching the world pass by and sleeping in on a rainy day, he had never tired of them. His legs continued carrying him across the old town, and his dark eyes took in everything, noticing how the buildings were cracking with age, and the old cemetery. His legs began carrying him there automatically, only to stop at the wrought iron gates. Blinking, Nikita peered through the bars to look curiously at the graveyard, wondering where his parents' graves were...only to remember that they were back in Moscow. He remembered burying them himself when he returned, right outside his old house, or to be more exact, the place they died.

A gaunt look appeared in his eyes when he recalled the death screams, but he quickly shook his head to dispel the ghosts of their cries. The past was past, and it should remain as such. History would not repeat itself in his case, and goodness forbid that he suffer the same fate as his parents. He didn't want to be killed by angels, heck, he didn't want to be killed by anything at all. It contradicted his earlier thoughts on Annette killing him to liberate him, but well, one couldn't blame him for being fickle occasionally. Life was a valuable gift, and if anything, he shouldn't be wasting it on a vengeful hunter...

He blinked when he realized that he had nearly walked into a wall, and hurriedly changed his course. Too lost in his thoughts did he not realize that he had been unconsciously moving forward all this while, and his wandering had led him into the old town's neighborhood. The houses around the area were old and decrepit, some even rumored to be haunted. Nikita knew the latter to be lies created by the supernatural to keep the humans out of their 'headquarters', but he knew full well that those who were naive enough to accidentally slip into a vampire's den would never come out.

His dark eyes soon fell on a nearby house, one he knew from the rumours to be haunted. It was as decrepit as the rest, but he knew it to be one of the prime meeting spots around...or a spot where a supernatural creature could hide and seclude himself from the rest of the world if it wasn't occupied. Deciding to take the risk and possibly kick whomever out if they were not willing to share can't blame him for wanting to feel entertained he approached the front door and opened it gently. The doorknob creaked and squealed under his grasp, and he strode into the quiet house.

As expected, it looked as though it had been abandoned years ago, and no one had bothered to refurbish it because no one wanted to buy it. Nikita heaved a quiet sigh of relief when he could hear nothing, it proved that the house was empty for now. He wandered upstairs, poking into rooms, before coming down again and doing the same thing. You could say that he was bored, but really, he just wanted something to do to keep his mind off things. The demon strolled into the kitchen and was about to walk out into the backyard when he saw that someone was already there. His ebony orbs met the brown eyes of the girl's, and he stopped in his tracks, standing in the doorway, unsure on how to proceed. Was he intruding?

"Um," Nikita said awkwardly. Derp. "I did not know that anyone was here...."

TAGS freya WORDS

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[FREYA LAYANA WILBORNE]

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LONG LOST MEMORIES.

Freya had never been very good at making friends. Sam had been pure luck, and since him the only real friend she had ever had was her boss, and that barely counted since she worked for him. But he had invited her over for dinner and she had met his wife and kids. They were all such lovely people and treated her so well. The year her parents had passed, they had invited her over for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner. Since she didn’t know them yet at the time, she had declined, but a few years later when they asked again, she attended, and since then she ate with them every Thanksgiving and Christmas. They were like the family she never had, but always wished for. Quiet, conservative people who never argued or cursed at one another, never got into drunken fights, and would have noticed their own daughter walking right out the front door to leave the house at one in the morning to go to Sam’s because they were too loud for her to be able to get any sleep.

But she did love her parents. Even though they weren’t the greatest, they were definitely passionate and loved each other enough to stay together after all those years. She was envious of them, and of her boss and his wife. She had never had that kind of love or passion. She wasn’t even sure passion ran in her blood anymore since she had stopped painting all those years ago. Freya was almost afraid to pick up the paintbrush and throw colors on a canvas now. Even though Sam had tried to get her to start back up again, it was too hard. It reminded her too much of the past. But the longing had come to her and when she looked at a blank canvas she wanted to cover it with something beautiful. It was until she went to put something on the canvas that she lost everything. She wondered if she would ever get over it and paint again. It was something she had enjoyed greatly and missed. She wished the pain didn’t come back whenever she thought about it. Eventually though she would probably get over it.

Freya jolted in the swing. She hadn’t heard anyone come into the house and didn’t see tha man in the doorway until he spoke. Her heart raced in her chest and she sighed. “I didn’t either,” she confessed. She stayed on the swing and pushed herself a little to move back and forth slowly, nervously. “Are you here for a purpose, or…?” she questioned him and looked at him with a little bit of fear. She was always unsure about people, but her fears got even worse at night. She knew this place had been abandoned since…well since she abandoned it so long ago. People could come here for hundreds of reasons. The place was known to have ghosts, too, and whether or not they were her parent’s ghosts she was unsure. They had never shown themselves to her though. Freya didn’t really even believe in ghosts since it seemed like a load of crap to her. She thought ghosts were just people over-imagining scenarios that are completely logical.

Freya just wanted to know why this man was here and if he was going to harm her in any way. He didn’t look like the type that would kill a random stranger, but Freya knew that there was always a possibility of that happening. There had been too much death in this house and that was the last thing she wanted. Freya couldn’t handle more of that, especially not here of all places. So she asked, “You’re not some crazed killer are you?” Her voice was quiet and she shied away from him on her swing. Usually Freya would have stayed quiet, but the question was too much not to ask. She hoped he didn’t take offense to it. Maybe she shouldd have kept quiet after all…

CODED BY LADY RAINICORN @ CAUTION

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[NIKITA ETHAN REDFIELD]

between two lungs it was released

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the breath that passed from you to me

Nikita's apathetic nature had an awful habit of making him feel like a complete awkward fart at times, especially when it came to situations like this. Had he been given time to adjust to a situation, he would have already prepared the things that he was going to say and wouldn't feel less withdrawn when it came to socializing. Such examples did include him striking up a conversation with a lovely mermaid called Meredia, and by a stroke of luck and coincidence, he had discovered that she had a passion for music just like he had, and at the end of the day, when he had returned home to his quarters after the concert, he had realized that he had just made a new friend. It had been an intriguing and strange experience for the demon because he hardly had any friends, but it had been very pleasant nonetheless.

The demon had read plenty of literature and had an active imagination, if not mediocre ones, but nothing had ever been written down as what to do when confronted by a young lady on a swing when he had thought a haunted house would be empty. He blinked again, slowly, surveying the woman, quite unsure as to what to do. Centuries of being withdrawn and isolated did that to you, and the more he stared, the more she stared back. However, the brunette girl needn't have worried because the demon was no killer, unlike his bloodthirsty kin. He had no interest in spilling blood, but would not say no to it when his own life was on the line. Even so, when given the option, he would prefer to flee rather than to stay and fight. Nikita couldn't give a rat's butt on whether he was called a coward or not; there were some things simply not worth fighting for.

"Purpose?" the Russian repeated, looking surprised. "No, certainly not, not really..." He continued loitering in the doorway, feeling that she deserved a better explanation than this. He had after all, barged into her space when she had clearly been here first. "Well, if you really want the truth, I was bored." he continued matter-of factly, shooting her a tiny smile. "Honestly speaking, I thought a little exploration wouldn't hurt." The demon left out the part of him kicking anyone out of the house if they were hostile and refused to share the building. Too chivalrous for that sort of behaviour, he barely laid a finger on women when it came to combat, and he most certainly was not going to kick the brunette lady out. His parents had taught him better than that.

At her next question, he actually took a step back from her, startled, wondering if she really meant it or she had been joking. Nikita had always found it difficult to appreciate humour, unless they were ironic. He swiftly shook his head in denial, and tried to push the number of times he had actually killed people in his head. The question had startled him indeed. "Um, no." he said honestly. "Not unless I have to, but I would never do anything to harm you, miss, unless you give me a good reason to." Nikita had always found it easier on others to be direct, and it was true. Despite the girl's innocent appearance, he knew how well they could be deceiving. Supernatural or not, personality was an important factor regardless of which species you were.

"I am Nikita," smiled the demon benignly, stepping forward and outstretched a hand to show that he meant her no harm. "And you are?"

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