▪︎𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦,
𝗜'𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂.
in which an ordinary girl soon finds out that she's not as ordinary as she once thought, all while trying to hide her f...
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♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪♡ 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 eighty.
cara mia.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
SULKING through dingy tunnels was not how James Garcia expected his morning to start. At least, not with an unconscious heretic slouched over his shoulder and a half-smoked cigarette pressed between his lips. As he trekked through muddy puddles and thickets of moss, he couldn't help but subconsciously avoid the strips of sunlight poking through the ceiling.
He could feel the bones in Kai's neck slowly mend themselves against his shoulder pads. It was an eerie feeling; even eerier than the fangs positioned in the back of his gums sharp enough to catch his own tongue every now and then.
There was a tint of nostalgia that coated his tastebuds. A Garcia was easy to spot over the crowds of monsters in town. Familiar fangs and a dastardly cannibalistic hunger that seemed to plague the family tree like root rot.
Sometimes nostalgia was a tad bit too ironic.
"What you are doing with that body, James?"
James stiffened as if Medusa's gaze had settled her grievous gaze on his body. Limbs shuddered into stone. Snake tongue fell dry.
Chris Argent stood before him, hiding behind the barrel of a gun that pointed toward his chest matched the ricketiness of his forced breathing. Shadows crept into the crevices of his face until he could barely recognize him at all. James wasn't a stranger to the end of an Argent's gun - and he certainly wasn't a stranger to death either.
Still, this wasn't what it looked like.
Chris didn't recognize him either. His suit wasn't tailored and fitted to his torso as usual, instead, replaced it with a thin white shirt with leather pulled over his sleeves. His hair had grown messy. His sophisticated demeanor burned alongside the cigarette that cast a halo of smoke behind his head.
James breathed steadily. "Chris-"
"Put the body down. Now."
His aura shifted. A black mass engulfed his bone-white dress shirt while stern eyes caused his own to shudder. James fiddled with his daylight ring, wincing as if his own words hurt, and spoke lowly. "No, I don't think I will."
Chris swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat as no warmth came from his voice. No heartbeat thumped steadily in his chest anymore. No heat thickened the crevices of his body. This was not the man he previously knew.
