Name: Yggdrasil
Middle: Magnus
Last: Wickerson
Nickname(s): Ashtree
Age: 28yr / Immortal
DOB: November 7th
Sign: Scorpio
Sex Identity: Male
Race: Cosmos God (Reincarnated)
Ethnicity: White/Caucasian
Nationality: American 
Job: Handyman/Mechanic
Sexuality: Bisexual
Position: Switch
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Medium Brown
Body: Athletic. Lean Build.
Skin Tone: Lite
Height: 5ft 11in
Weight: 190lb.
Tattoos/Piercings: No/No
Drink/Smoke/Drugs: Occasionally / No / No
Hobby(s): Photography, Music Playing (Guitar), Fixing Things

 

 

 

 

---

 

 "What does blood taste like?" Madeleine asked curiously, one of Claudia’s diaries in her hand. Glancing toward her redheaded friend Claudia gave a slight smile. "What you think it taste like? You bit your lip before.. lost a tooth.." Claudia said, not really giving an answer as she always did.

 "Is it like drinking life itself for you?" Madeliene asked. Claudia again looked her way and gave a half smile. "It ain’t some magic elixer. It’s warm, it’s thick. Dependin’ on what that human has eaten or drank, can taste that too. I need it, to survive. That’s it." Claudia said so simplistically. 

 She watched as Madeleine rolled up her sleeve and held out her wrist. "Have a sip.." Claudia shook her head. "No ma’am. I don’t drink from no one I ain’t plannin’ to kill." Claudia had her reasons for that. Oh she wanted Madeleine. She wanted to pin her down, lick that long neck and drink every last drop of her. But she wouldn’t, she cared too much now. She had hurt Charlie, she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. 

 "À cause de monsieur Charlie?" Madeleine asked. Claudia tilted her head. "You get that far in the diary then? Then you know what I did... made love to the first boy I ever loved.. then ripped his throat out and drank him dry. Don’t gotta tell you we didn’t live happily ever after."

 Claudia tensed as Madeleine moved closer "je suis tellement désolée mon amour. But we.. we can live happily ever after. Turn me? We can worry about Layla when she is older."

Claudia only frowned "if she don’t wanna be turned when she older we both gonna have to watch her grow old and die Madeleine. Becomin’ a vampire ain’t somethin’ to do on a whim. You gotta be nearly dead and turned against ya will.. or you gotta really want this."

Claudia and Madeleine shared a look for a moment before Madeleine finally leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Claudia’s lips. "Je te veux..." Madeliene whispered. Claudia could feel that urge in her start and she gently pushed Madeleine back. "We’ll think about it. I.. I gotta go. I wanna hunt."

Claudia stood and Madeleine gave an accomplished smirk. "Because of me? Did I get your blood pumping? Mm Claudia.." Claudia shot Madeleine a look before approaching her, giving a kiss goodbye. "Shut up.." she muttered playfully before leaving the shop, leaving her diaries with Madeleine.  

 

---

 

Blood

 

"No ma’am. I don’t drink from no one I ain’t plannin’ to kill."

 

   

template credit.

(Sae and company make a huge mistake by venturing into dogman territory, which no human being has ever returned alive from!)

Going on an afternoon supply run,
Sae and a dozen soldiers from Woodbury,
Soon venture out into unknown territory,
Knowing very little about this particular land,
Covered in dense woods with few openings,
They soon become lost beyond all dispute,
Caught in the middle of a highly protected area,
Defended by the deadliest cryptid known to man!

Loud howling suddenly erupts from all around them,
A truly terrifying sound, catching everyone by surprise!
But their normally dependable weapons, no doubt very effective,
Against other humans and also those horrible biters as well,
Are simply too weak to bring even one of these beasts down,
As the pack quickly moves in for the inevitable slaughter,
Half a dozen massive creatures easily ripping people apart,
Literally devouring these doomed men and women alive!

Severed heads effortlessly removed from shoulders,
Rolling across the ground along with other body parts,
As the enraged dogmen bite down on soft human bones,
Snapping them like twigs while using their sharp claws,
To disembowel people by cruelly gutting them like fish!
Intestines spilling from brutally ripped apart stomachs,
Greatly excite the cryptids as they continue consuming, 
Sae and her butchered people until none remain alive!

(Sae has her first test as the leader of a new place called Woodbury, but will this brave young woman and her courageous soldiers rise to the occasion, or might all be for nothing as yet another community falls by the wayside?)

Five hundred starving biters,
Surrounding an unfinished town,
Slowly but steadily moving closer.
No time to finish putting the walls up,
She must rally her people right now,
Or else face complete annihilation,
As men, women, even children,
Along with babies are all slaughtered,
Devoured alive by these wretched undead!
Only thirty fighters stand in the way,
Protecting seventy more innocents,
From being overwhelmed by the herd,
As numerous gunshots ring out from inside,
Blowing many biters apart in the process.
Brain matter along with blood and gore,
Soon cover the ground outside of Woodbury,
Yet soon enough they do indeed close in,
And several people are brutally ripped apart,
Skin torn while raw flesh is also consumed,
By these ravenous biters who eat humans alive!
The situation now becomes even more desperate,
Her brand new town is almost wiped from the map,
As the remaining herd starts moving much closer,
Into the middle of Woodbury, all hope seems lost,
But thankfully others finally join the fight, and at last,
The tide is now turned as even untrained citizens,
Do whatever they can because this town is theirs!
Shooting and stabbing, even setting biters on fire,
People still die truly horrible and gruesome deaths,
But eventually victory emerges from almost certain defeat,
Thus firmly establishing her as a leader to be fully trusted,
Despite the terrible carnage but the herd has been destroyed!

(Things were, of course, drastically changed from what actually happened in the show, but needless to say Maggie feels so much better right now, after first siding with Oceanside before finally settling the score with a certain individual!)

Maggie Rhee smiled sadistically as she looked at her brand new crowbar, and the potentially deadly weapon would most definitely be put to very good use soon, for a certain person would be paying dearly for taking not only her beloved husband Glenn, but also her close friend Abraham from the lives of those who loved and cherished them like family, which no doubt included herself as well!

Maggie Rhee had slowly but surely turned into a more ruthless and vindictive person than before, even taking some satisfaction in watching that worthless piece of sh*t Gregory suffering and struggling in vain, while trying to escape from the tightly secured rope around his neck, kicking and screaming until the final breath left his cowardly body for all to see, as both Rick and Michonne watched on with shocked expressions upon their faces, yet this was only the beginning of this highly traumatized Hilltop leader’s merciless vendetta against her sworn enemies, as she joined forced with Oceanside in order to hunt down and massacre several of the notorious Saviors as well, after they’d first executed Justin and Arat for taking part in the savage butchery of Oceanside’s male population! Soon enough those things had indeed been accomplished, with Maggie providing additional support while Beatrice and company did the vast majority of the damage, as they finally avenged their fallen husbands and lovers. Meanwhile, Daryl had more or less washed his hands of everything, opting to stay out of this until Maggie finished doing whatever she had in mind, but then again he wasn’t exactly protesting her vigilante actions too much either.

The horrible memories of watching her defenseless father being slaughtered by the maniacal Governor, in addition to seeing the love of her life so coldly and cruelly beaten to death, unfortunately by none other than Negan himself, along with losing her precious half sister Beth along the way, all served to at last push Maggie over the edge, causing her to pick up a crowbar before confronting Negan inside his prison cell! Michonne had argued and did her best to convince Maggie otherwise, but she finally relented and allowed her deeply troubled friend into the somewhat uncomfortable jail.

"So you can be with your wife?"

She snickered as the pathetic excuse for a formerly powerful leader begged and pleaded with her to kill him right now, explaining that he no longer had anything to live for and would be better off dead, because it would mean reuniting with the only woman he’d ever truly loved.

Maggie looked down on the wretched shell of a man whom she’d so easily overpowered, dragging him out of the cell and into the middle of the more exposed area right outside it, so he could get on his knees and whimper like the f***ing coward he’d always been, ever since the very beginning! She considered sparing Negan because he actually seemed worse off than dead in some ways, but as she turned and began walking away, all she saw was Glenn’s battered face as blood gushed forth from savage wounds. Also Abraham too! Maggie could never forget what happened to her dear friend, for he suffered terribly just as Glenn did, and the thought of this psychotic, remorseless madman literally beating them both to a bloody mess became too much for her to endure any longer!

"Then go be with your wife!"

Maggie suddenly screamed in absolute rage as she brought the crowbar down against Negan’s ribs, repeatedly swinging it back and forth while he cried out in sheer, unadulterated agony, as bones were easily broken before she did the same thing to his shoulders and back for good measure! Wickedly punishing many different parts of Negan’s body, except for his face and head, Maggie delivered over two dozen blows as the deadly weapon continued demolishing bones, while also causing internal bleeding as he started coughing up more than a little blood, before at last vomiting all over the place just then. Finally, Maggie broke his back as she crippled the already severely punished male, but she saved the best for last because now it was time to really have some f***ing fun!

"I’ve broken almost every goddamn bone in your f***ing body, but these last ones are for Glenn and Abe, so goodbye Negan and this was certainly a long time coming!"

She then brought the formidable crowbar down against his skull, rather quickly many times in a row for good measure, as brain matter and pulverized bones soon reduced Negan’s formerly recognizable face to little more than a putrid pile of pulp, until nothing remained except for bloody chunks of meat and tissue, as Maggie screamed in both satisfaction and triumph, having finally exorcised her own inner demons which had been plaguing her for so long! Covered from head to toe with Negan’s blood, brains, and other less than pleasant material as well, Maggie then exited the scene of slaughter to let someone else clean up all of this f***ing carnage, and even though Michonne was most certainly upset by what had happened, the world was finally rid of this demented parasite once and for all, never to be troubled by Negan again, as Maggie breathed a huge sigh of well deserved relief! 

(Obviously this is all much different than from what actually happened in the show, but it’s still a very nice way to finally let off some damn f***ing steam!) 

Negan: Time to do this f***ing sh*t the right way, by permanently getting rid of some goddamn sh*t stains upon society, courtesy of the much needed, no doubt highly appreciated help of the lovely Miss Arat, who is not only my right hand woman, but the oh so soon to be second in command of these goddamn Saviors! That’s right you three worthless little sacks of sh*t, this ain’t the f***in’ show nor is it the comics either, so there won’t be any second chances or lucky breaks like oh, let’s see, some cowardly a**hole putting faulty ammunition in all our weapons! Nope, that sh*t don’t fly around here, because yours truly already knew what the deal was even before it actually happened, so Arat my dearest, please teach these spineless traitors a lesson in what takes place, when you’re f***ing stupid enough to cross the boss!

Negan had a lot taken out of him during his violent fight with Simon only minutes earlier, but he was done playing games with people because very shortly, three more traitors were going to pay dearly for turning their backs on the Saviors. Eugene, Dwight, and Gregory had been locked up in a cell together, while Negan slowly shook his head in disgust before giving Lucille to Arat.

"Listen up you three sorry pieces of sh*t! I’ll deal with you all.... no wait scratch that. Miss Arat here will deal with you all much sooner, rather than later, because from now on she’ll be second in command, seeing as how none of these goddamn men can ever be trusted to follow f***ing orders anymore!"

Negan smiled cruelly as the helpless males began pleading for mercy, but then things went from very bad to far worse as he mentioned something else before leaving.

"Oh and one more thing. All prisoners and traitors will be at the complete mercy of Arat, starting right about.... now! Hey don’t come crying to me, because I’m not the one in charge of this stuff anymore."

Negan shrugged his shoulders then mockingly held up his hands as if surrendering.

"Sorry, nothing I can do to help you out now, because Arat here is calling all the shots. What a bunch of goddamn pussies! I put a sweet little woman in charge and everyone freaks the f*** out. Oh well, later chumps and by the way, my thirsty girl Lucille has been long overdo for a few drinks, if you know what I mean."

Negan smirked then turned his back on the trio of terrified men, leaving them for Arat to massacre as he went to clean up before getting a much needed, no doubt well deserved rest, but today’s less than positive events had actually taught him a very important lesson. Never again would he put the weight of the entire Saviors on his shoulders, because that only caused even more unneccesary stress, which he simply could not afford to endure any longer! Arat was now basically his equal in almost every single way, except for whatever decisions which he might need to make by himself, yet at the same time Negan trusted her judgment and knew that she would never let him down, no matter what.  

Arat glared at the begging traitors as she pointed Lucille at them. Negan could give less than a flying f*** about those cocksucking pricks, because right now the only thing on his mind was taking a nice, hot shower before enjoying a delicious meal, then getting a whole lot of f***ing sleep as well! A sudden, yet also sickening crack across Dwight’s skull dropped him straight to the floor, as Lucille began unleashing carnage upon all three worthless excuses for men, one by one while Arat glared at them evilly, without so much as once showing even the slightest bit of remorse. Taking out the main and only serious threat first, over and over she violently drove the barbed wire weapon against Dwight’s skull, reducing that particular part of his body to nothing more than mush, as brain matter and gore completely covered the front end of Negan’s prized possession! Dozens of wicked blows further decimated the already dead man’s horribly abused body, while Gregory and Eugene could only look on in horror, tears flowing down their frightened faces before they started pleading for their very lives!

"Who do you think found out about this in the first place? I’m the one who told Negan about your cowardly betrayal, so that only makes what’s happening here all the more exhilarating and enjoyable for me!"

Gregory was next to have his f***ing brains bashed in by Arat and Lucille, as the smiling female was truly beginning to love every single moment of this, while even more brain matter and pulverized bones splattered onto both Arat and the whimpering Eugene, yet she did not mind getting covered from head to toe in the gore of slain victims, as her blood stained face then pointed the infamous bat at Eugene! 

"Goddamn lying piece of sh*t! I know all about your past, and how you ended up getting so many people brutally killed, in order to find a nonexistent cure. This right here, will be especially relished until the very last breath leaves your pitiful body!"

Taking her sweet time, Arat first struck Eugene repeatedly across the stomach, before doing the same to his back, arms, legs, and also chest as the slow, methodical torture continued. Prolonging his suffering for seemingly an eternity, Arat finally ended it all by bashing Eugene’s skull in, as the entire floor of the jail cell was now soaked in blood, along with other less than pleasant bodily fluids as well! She of course, was rather exhausted after having expended so much energy like that, but this had ended up becoming her finest hour and Arat was now on complete par with Negan, for no longer was she simply his right hand woman, but rather a very strong second in command and occasionally, whenever he was in the mood for it, the outright leader of this notorious group of men and women known as the Saviors!

Her family was old money in New York. The family fortune started in the early 1800s with a toy business. Every generation grew the business more and more. The wealth grew exponentially with each generation. By the time Samantha and her younger sister, Sara, were born, the family fortune was in the billions of dollars range. The heirs to the fortune were Samantha and Sara, but that didn’t sit well with their aunts, uncles, and cousins who were dying for a bit of the wealth. That’s why it was so bizarre when the girls’ parents were killed. The car accident looked suspicious, but the police couldn’t prove who’d done it. They had suspicions that it was an inside job from the family, but no one would take responsibility. They suspected it was the girls’ uncle who’d done it. But they couldn’t pin him to it. And, without any other solid leads, the cops couldn’t do anything except watch the girls get up in their Aunt and Uncle’s care.

It didn’t take long, once she was placed with her Aunt and Uncle, for Samantha to find herself locked up in an institution for the mentally insane. Her family said that the loss of her parents had driven her to near suicide and a mental break. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Sure, Samantha was upset and very sad about the losses, but she was far from suicidal. Much to the contrary, she was hopeful that the police would find her parents’ killer or killers and bring them to justice. Still, her family had the money to pay the doctors off. To make sure that she was declared insane enough to stay locked up. It was the only way to get the family fortune for themselves. Still, it would be a long road to the money. They would have to go through the courts and ensure that Sam could never speak for herself.

Sam didn’t understand what was going on when she was admitted to the hospital. She was told that it was for a short rest, so that she could better cope with the losses of her parents and brother. She thought she’d be there for a weekend, or maybe a week at the most. But a week turned into months, and months turned into years. She called her Aunt and Uncle often at first, trying to pin them down on when they’d let her come home. But, after a while, they stopped taking her calls. She couldn’t get anyone to answer a phone call from her, or tell her what was going on. After a while she began to understand what was going on and why. So she figured she’d have to wait them out. Once she turned 18 she’d be able to check herself out, or so she thought. When her 18th birthday came, she tried to check herself out, but the doctors wouldn’t let her. They said that she wasn’t well enough yet, and that she had to stay until they released her. So began her battle for freedom.

After her 18th birthday, the restrictions on Sam’s communications became extreme. She wasn’t allowed to make phone calls to anyone. She couldn’t write letters unless they were screened first. She couldn’t receive communications, either. Only her Aunt and Uncle were allowed to visit her, and they never did. All written communication to her was also screened. There was no way to get a lawyer who could get her out. But she still tried. Every day she wrote letters to the people she hoped could help her. They were all written in code. In ways that wouldn’t be suspicious to the people screening them, but would tell her friends that something was wrong and that she needed help. But, after a while, she gave up. Eighteen turned into 21. Then 21 turned into 30. Sam was beginning to realize that she was going to spend the rest of her life locked up in an asylum with padded walls surrounding her. She wasn’t crazy, but the situation was enough to almost drive her there. Then something unexpected happened…

It was shortly after her 32nd birthday. Just an ordinary day for her. She was in her room listening to her iPod and meditating when one of the nurses walked in and interrupted her. She said that Sam was being released, and that her Aunt and sister were there to take her home. Sam couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but she leapt up and ran to see that her they were actually there. Seeing Sara for the first time in 19 years was a miracle that she’d dreamt of but never expected. The siblings hugged and Sam held onto her sister for dear life. She couldn’t help sobbing or the wave of relief that washed over her. And, just like that, she was allowed to go back home. Allowed to start her life almost 15 years later than everyone else in the world. It took some time, but she did pull her life together into what she’d always dreamt it would be.

Once Samantha had adjusted a bit to the outside world, she decided to fulfill her dreams and go to med school. She wanted to be an ER doctor in a fast paced environment. She did excellent in her classes, and graduated at the top of her class. She could pick from just about anywhere for her residency. She chose Mount Sinai in New York. Her residency went well, and she made a lot of connections with her coworkers. So, when she finished her residency, it was a no brainer to stay on with the hospital. They were glad to hire her as a full time ER doctor. She was only there for a couple years, though, before being recruited to be the head of the hospital that was being built in a Compound in Illinois. The package that Sydney offered would have been enough to make anyone take it, and Samantha couldn’t think of a better way to spend her career than by working with The Babysitters. She pivoted from working the ER to working OB/GYN, so that she could care for the women in the Compound. They’re building a house for her there, so in the meantime, she’s living in Paradiso — the hotel centerpiece of the Compound. There’s no shortage of beautiful women to occupy the doctor while she waits for her house to be finished. Although most of her time is spent at the new hospital.

D*ck Grayson is a dynamic and multifaceted individual who combines charisma, compassion, and resilience. As the first Robin and later Nightwing, he embodies a balance between light-hearted optimism and the stoic discipline instilled in him by Batman. D*ck’s sense of humour and easygoing demeanour make him approachable and well-loved among his allies, yet beneath his charm lies a deeply empathetic heart that fuels his unwavering commitment to justice. He is fiercely loyal to those he cares about, often acting as the emotional anchor for the Bat family and his team, the Titans. Despite enduring immense personal loss and hardship, D*ck’s resilience shines through his ability to forge his path, transitioning from Batman’s protégé to a hero in his own right. His leadership skills and sharp tactical mind make him a natural leader, while his passion for doing the right thing ensures he never loses sight of his moral compass. Confident, caring, and driven, Nightwing stands as a symbol of hope and perseverance in the face of darkness.







ABILITIES

Acrobatics and Gymnastics

D*ck Grayson is an unparalleled acrobat, a skill honed from his childhood in the circus. His agility, balance, and reflexes allow him to perform breathtaking stunts, evade attacks, and navigate urban landscapes. 

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Martial Arts Mastery

Trained by Batman and other experts, D*ck is a master of multiple martial arts, including Eskrima, Judo, Taekwondo, and Capoeira. His fighting style emphasizes speed, precision, and adaptability, making him a formidable hand-to-hand combatant.

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Expert Stick Fighting

D*ck’s weapon of choice is a pair of Escrima sticks, which he wields with exceptional skill. He uses them for offence, defence, and even as tools for scaling walls or disabling enemies.

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Peak Human Conditioning

Through rigorous training, D*ck has achieved peak physical condition. His strength, speed, stamina, and reflexes rival Olympic-level athletes.

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Tactical Intelligence

As a seasoned crime-fighter and leader, D*ck is a master tactician. He quickly analyzes situations, devises strategies, and adapts to changing circumstances, whether in combat or team dynamics.

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Stealth and Infiltration

Following in Batman’s footsteps, Nightwing is an expert in stealth. He can move silently, blend into shadows, and infiltrate secure locations without detection.

Investigation and Detective Skills

D*ck possesses advanced investigative skills, including crime scene analysis and interrogation. While not as meticulous as Batman, he is highly successful in uncovering evidence and solving mysteries.

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Leadership and Team Management

As the leader of the Titans and other teams, D*ck’s charisma and strategic mind make him an inspirational and effective leader. He can unite diverse individuals and guide them toward a common goal.

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Skilled Pilot and Driver

D*ck is proficient in piloting various aircraft and driving high-speed vehicles, making him versatile in any chase or pursuit scenario.

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Escrima Stick Customization

D*ck’s Escrima sticks are more than melee weapons. They are often equipped with hidden features like tasers, grappling hooks, and tracking devices, adding versatility to their arsenal.

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Multilingual Proficiency

D*ck is fluent in multiple languages, including English, Romanian, Spanish, and French, allowing him to operate in diverse environments and communicate effectively with allies worldwide.

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Emotional Intelligence

One of D*ck’s most unique “abilities” is his emotional intelligence. He connects deeply with others, offering empathy and understanding that help forge strong alliances and mend broken relationships.

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Advanced Gadgetry

Nightwing’s suit and utility belt are equipped with advanced technology, including smoke pellets, grappling hooks, and remote hacking devices. These tools enhance his effectiveness in the field.

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Exceptional Reflexes

D*ck’s lightning-fast reflexes allow him to react to attacks, dodge projectiles, and counter opponents with precision, often giving him the upper hand in combat.

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Urban Navigation

As a master of parkour, D*ck seamlessly moves through cityscapes, leaping across rooftops, swinging between buildings, and using the environment to his advantage.

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Resistance to Mental Manipulation

Through years of mental discipline and exposure to psychic attacks, D*ck has developed a resistance to mental manipulation, making it harder for enemies to control or influence him.

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Enhanced Pain Tolerance

Decades of crime-fighting have built D*ck’s tolerance for pain. He can endure injuries and continue fighting, often pushing through extreme physical strain.







BACK STORY

Born to a family of acrobats known as the "Flying Graysons," D*ck Grayson grew up performing in Haly’s Circus alongside his parents, John and Mary Grayson. The trio was celebrated for their daring high-wire acts, and D*ck’s childhood was filled with love, excitement, and the thrill of the circus. His life took a tragic turn when a mobster named Tony Zucco sabotaged the circus’s trapeze equipment to extort protection money. During a performance, the ropes snapped, and D*ck’s parents fell to their deaths in front of a horrified audience, leaving him orphaned.

Witnessing this tragedy, Bruce Wayne, who was in attendance, empathized with the boy’s loss, seeing a reflection of his childhood trauma. Bruce took D*ck in as his ward and offered him a home at Wayne Manor. Over time, Bruce revealed his secret identity as Batman, recognizing the fire for justice burning in D*ck’s heart. Determined to seek vengeance against criminals like Zucco and to ensure no one else endured such pain, D*ck trained under Bruce in martial arts, detective work, and acrobatics. He eventually became Robin, the Boy Wonder, the first-ever sidekick in Gotham’s war on crime.

As Robin, D*ck fought alongside Batman, learning the nuances of justice and honing his skills. However, their partnership wasn’t without strain. As D*ck grew older, he began to question Batman’s strict methods and his role as a sidekick. Wanting to forge his path, he left Gotham and retired his Robin persona, a decision that was both liberating and emotionally fraught.

After leaving Batman’s shadow, D*ck adopted the mantle of Nightwing, inspired by a Kryptonian hero he once learned about from Superman. Relocating to the city of Blüdhaven, Nightwing became its protector, carving out his identity as a hero independent of Batman. His acrobatics, charisma, and tactical brilliance earned him respect in the superhero community, and he formed lasting relationships with heroes like Starfire, Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy as a founding member of the Teen Titans.

Nightwing continued to lead and mentor the Titans, balancing his role as a leader and solo vigilante. Though his relationship with Bruce often oscillated between camaraderie and tension, they reconciled over time, with Bruce recognizing D*ck as his equal. Over the years, D*ck stepped into various roles, including taking on the mantle of Batman when Bruce was presumed dead, proving his ability to uphold the legacy of the Dark Knight.

Now, as Nightwing, D*ck Grayson remains a symbol of hope, growth, and resilience. Whether protecting Blüdhaven, leading the Titans, or aiding the Bat Family in Gotham, he stands as one of the most respected and beloved heroes, constantly striving to honour his past while forging his legacy.


 

 

 

 

Mark is a figure of terror and deep devotion, a being whose personality reflects the duality of his nature. He is cold, calculating, and dangerously unpredictable to strangers and enemies, his aura brimming with power that warns others to tread carefully. Mark doesn’t tolerate disloyalty or harm to those he cares about, and his punishments are often ruthless, laced with a sadistic streak that leaves no doubt about his dominance. However, beneath his intimidating exterior lies a fiercely protective and deeply caring soul. To those he loves and trusts, Mark is warm, affectionate, and even gentle, though he remains ever-watchful. He carries a heavy sense of responsibility for his actions, often battling an inner guilt for the extremes his darker side can reach. This balance of dangerous intensity and unwavering love makes Mark a complex and compelling character, one who embodies both the beauty and the beast of his vampiric lineage.







ABILITIES

Vampiric Strength

Mark possesses immense physical strength, surpassing most vampires and humans. He can easily overpower opponents, break through barriers, and in combat with unmatched force.

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Enhanced Speed

Mark can move at blinding speeds, making him nearly impossible to track during a fight. This ability allows him to strike swiftly and evade attacks with ease.

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Hypnotic Compulsion

Mark can compel others to do his bidding with his voice and gaze. This ability is nearly impossible to resist, even for other supernatural beings, giving him control over other’s minds and actions.

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Immortality

As the son of Dracula, Mark is immune to aging and natural death. He has lived for centuries and will continue to exist indefinitely unless killed by specific means, such as getting his head cut off.

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Regeneration

Mark can heal from injuries at an accelerated rate, regenerating even from severe wounds. His regenerative capabilities make him nearly indestructible in battle.

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Shadow Manipulation

Mark can command and manipulate shadows, using them to obscure his presence, trap enemies, or create illusions. The shadows respond to his will, acting as extensions of himself.

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True Vampire Form

In his most dangerous state, Mark’s true vampire form manifests. His crimson eyes, protruding veins, elongated fangs, sharp claws, and pointed ears strike terror into his enemies. This form amplifies all his abilities but comes at the cost of control.

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Bloodlust Control

Mark has the remarkable ability to suppress his thirst for blood, allowing him to maintain composure even in challenging situations. However, when enraged or pushed to the edge, his control falters, and his bloodlust becomes unstoppable.

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Night Vision

Mark’s eyes are perfectly adapted to darkness, allowing him to see even in pitch-black conditions. This makes him a formidable opponent in low-light environments.

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Seductive Presence

Mark exudes a natural charm and magnetism that makes him irresistible to most people. This allure is supernatural and psychological, allowing him to disarm others without physical force.

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Enhanced Senses

Mark’s hearing, smell, and sight are far superior to those of humans. He can detect the faintest sounds, track scents over long distances, and perceive minute details in his surroundings.

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Battle Mastery

Mark is highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat and weaponry. His centuries of experience have made him a master tactician and fighter, capable of adapting to any opponent.

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Fear Induction

Mark can project an aura of fear that causes dread and panic in his enemies. This ability can paralyze foes or make them flee, giving him a psychological edge in battle.

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Vampiric Siring

Mark can turn others into vampires by sharing his blood. Those he sires are bound to him, creating a loyal network of followers.

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Resistance to Conventional Harm

Mark is immune to most conventional weapons and illnesses. Bullets, blades, and poison have little to no effect on him, adding to his near-invincibility.

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Aura of Domination

Mark’s mere presence commands respect and submission. This supernatural aura makes him a natural leader and an intimidating figure to anyone who opposes him.

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Memory Manipulation

Mark can erase, alter, or implant memories in others, giving him control over their perception of reality. This ability is a powerful tool for manipulation and secrecy.







BACK STORY

Born centuries ago, Mark is the son of the infamous Dracula, the first and most powerful vampire. His birth was shrouded in secrecy, as even within the vampiric world, a child born of Dracula was considered an anomaly and a potential threat. From an early age, Mark was groomed to inherit his father’s legacy, subjected to relentless training and indoctrination in the ways of vampiric dominance and survival. Despite this, Mark’s heart yearned for freedom and the ability to forge his path from his father’s shadow.

As a young vampire, Mark lived a life of privilege and peril, constantly under the scrutiny of his father and the vampiric council. His powers manifested early, marking him as an exceptional and dangerous being. However, this power came with a price: his inability to control his true form fully, which often emerged in moments of intense rage or pain. This lack of control made him a target for manipulation and treachery from those who sought to exploit or eliminate him.

Mark’s turning point came when he witnessed the horrors his father inflicted on humanity in his quest for dominance. Disillusioned by Dracula’s cruelty, Mark turned against his father, severing ties with the vampiric court and fleeing into exile. This act of rebellion branded him a traitor, and for centuries, Mark has been hunted by those loyal to Dracula.

In his exile, Mark wandered the world, hiding in the shadows and grappling with his identity. He sought solace in solitude, using his immense power to protect the weak and punish the wicked. Over time, he became a feared and revered figure, known as both a savior and a monster depending on the perspective of those who crossed his path. Despite his fearsome reputation, Mark struggles with the weight of his lineage and the constant battle to maintain his humanity in the face of his vampiric instincts.

Mark’s life took a brighter turn when he began to open his heart to a select few he deemed worthy of his trust. These relationships gave him a sense of purpose and grounded him in ways he had never experienced before. While he remains haunted by his past and the shadow of his father, Mark fights to carve out a new legacy—one defined not by fear and domination, but by protection, loyalty, and love for those he holds dear.

Now, Mark resides in his hidden territory, fiercely guarding it from trespassers and protecting those he cares about. His past continues to catch up with him, but Mark stands resolute, determined to overcome the darkness of his origins and forge a new path for himself, even if it means battling the ghosts of his past.

A Dream Within a Dream

The year was 1849, and Katherine wandered through the Americas like a shadow cast by time itself, seeking purpose in an endless night. She barely fed in those days, each tepid drop of sustenance a bitter reminder of what she’d become. The hunger gnawed at her hollow bones, matched only by her longing to feel mortal warmth again—to know the flutter of a genuine heartbeat beneath her breast.

Nothing in her life had ever felt fully her choice. From the time she was born beneath a gypsy caravan’s swaying lantern light, fate had passed her from one harsh hand to the next like a card in a devil’s game. Even the path of vampirism had come dressed in seduction’s finest garments—black lace and velvet promises, whispered by lips that spoke of power but delivered only chains. With stars too bright flickering in her naive eyes, she had delved down a path of shadows, believing she could finally grasp control of a life that slipped through her fingers like graveyard mist.

Katherine recalled that fateful evening with the crystal clarity of immortal memory. An unnatural fog had crept through Baltimore’s cobblestone streets like a living thing, carrying secrets spoken no more above a whisper, secrets that drizzled between lovers’ lips in breathless embrace. The fog seemed to dance with the shadows, weaving tales of sorrow and desire in its ethereal waltz. Her veins burned with a hunger that threatened to consume her very soul—an unquenchable thirst known only to those cursed to walk forever in twilight’s embrace.

That’s when destiny led her steps to him—a man called Edgar, whose presence would make her dead heart remember what it meant to quicken. Death’s desire dazzled in his dark, sorrowful eyes, but poetry drizzled from his lips like honey-sweet poison, more intoxicating than the brandy they shared. Each word he spoke was a carefully crafted gem, cutting through the fog of her existence with terrible beauty.

He spoke of his life as one might recite a tragic opera—each act more heart-rending than the last, yet painted in colors so vivid they made the world’s usual hues seem pale and wanting. Tales of lost loves and borrowed time spilled from his lips, of ravens that spoke of nevermore and pendulums that swung with deadly precision. For just a moment, she felt as if time itself had surrendered to their meeting. His eyes captured hers in the tavern’s soft golden glow, and the mundane world fell away like autumn leaves in a spectral wind. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of drunken tongues—all faded to nothing but the sound of his voice and the weight of unspoken understanding between them.

It was as if he had peered into the darkest corners of her immortal soul, and instead of recoiling in horror, he recognized a kindred spirit in the shadows. He grasped her tiny hands in his, bringing them to his dry, coarse lips with the reverence of a man who had found salvation in damnation. "Katrina," he called her, and she gasped, the name striking her like lightning. It was her birth name, one she hadn’t heard spoken aloud since the night she died her first death. As she drew closer, her cold fingers brushed his bristled cheek, and a sigh escaped her lips like a prayer to a god who had long since abandoned her.

"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream," he whispered, his words carrying the weight of prophecy. "A lover’s kiss, as soon as it has passed one’s lips, becomes but a faded memory, its burn losing its touch with each passing second—like happiness in my grasp, it slips away into the abyss. I have lived my life within a sorrowful song, my dear, but I have loved with a fire that would make the angels weep. I see that same fire in you—a thirst, a hunger for life so profound the very world could erupt in your blazing desires. I know what you are, my dark angel. I knew it the moment you glided into this tavern like a beautiful specter from one of my tales. My soul is tired now, bones withering like the pages I have written, ink fading like my mortal dreams. I long for eternal peace, sweet Katrina. I long to sleep with no end."

Katherine’s tears spilled over her porcelain cheeks like crimson rubies, for vampires weep blood, not salt. "No, please," she pleaded, her voice trembling like a violin string about to snap, "do not ask this of me. Never in all these cursed years have I met a soul such as yours—one who sees the world’s terrible beauty with such profound depth. Your words must not be lost to the silence of the grave."

"My sweet Katrina," he murmured back, and brought his lips to hers with the desperation of a drowning man seeking air. He kissed her not with gentleness but with harsh, soul-searching hunger that matched her own. Their tongues danced a desperate waltz, and she felt the very foundations of the earth shift beneath them, as if the gates of heaven and hell swung open simultaneously at their unholy communion.

The transition from tavern to alleyway was lost in a blur of passion and hunger. The shop bells tolled their mournful song in the distance like funeral chimes, while the pale moon cast her judgmental light upon Edgar’s lifeless body, still cradled in Katherine’s trembling arms. His blood—rich with brandy, laudanum, and genius—sang through her veins like liquid poetry.

"I could have loved you," she whimpered and pressed her lips once more to his, the taste of metallic inspiration and salty regret mingling on her tongue. "In another life, another dream, we could have written eternities together." And there, under the moon’s accusing gaze, with dawn’s first cruel fingers reaching across the sky, lay Edgar Allan Poe—a man whose tragic life had finally found its fitting end in the arms of immortal love. His last gift to the world was not a poem penned in ink, but rather the story written in his own blood upon the heart of a vampire who would carry his memory through the endless night.

In the years that followed, Katherine would sometimes stand beneath a midnight sky, listening to ravens cry their laments, and remember how for one brief, beautiful moment, she had held poetry incarnate in her arms. She had tasted genius, and like all the finest things in life, it had slipped away like a dream within a dream, leaving her to wander the earth with the bittersweet knowledge that true love, like true art, must sometimes end in tragedy to achieve immortality.

 

 
Penned by @deathomen and @TheOriginalFairyTale

  Sami

Briefly admiring herself in the mirror, Samira stepped back to reveal her entire body. She was ready to dance tonight; her Black hair flowed with natural soft curls,  her makeup was dark with shades of purple heightening her Emerald eyes, and her outfit could very well make a New York City pimp stutter. 

Being a stripper in Las Vegas did have its perks. It was easy money if you were a dancer; if you were good, it was an easy fortune. That’s why Samira chose this as a part-time job. Her studies in Botony and Astrophysics were quite expensive, and it was a necessity that she continued to study the subjects.  

It was 11:30 p.m., and the club was beginning to fill up. The dancers on stage entertained the clients, generously tipping them, and the servers had full trays of drinks. It was a typical Friday night at "The Underground," A Strip club dedicated to the Underworld and Supernatural culture. The crowd and audience grew so large that anyone could walk through it undetected if they desired to. 

It was Samira’s time for the stage; she heard the music blaring as she strutted out, leaving her robe behind. She walked out on stage, and her eyes fixed on the bar ahead. She saw the bartender, Luis, nod at her while the song played. Feeling the vibrations of the heavy bass in the music, Samira danced, her hand on the pole and her heels on the ground. Her eyes lightly made eye contact with those in the front, and she allowed her body to turn and slowly dipped. Bringing her body back up gracefully, she felt like an erotic ballerina. Feeling her heart beating rapidly, the feeling of anxiety was making her slightly hypervigilant. She wrapped her leg around the pole and twirled around it, feeling like a darkened presence was watching her. Her chest welled up, and that horrific feeling of being hunted filled her. 

With each movement, she became more vulnerable as layers of her clothing came off. By the end of the dance, she only wore her heels and a flower crown on her head. The bouncer collected her tips for her, and she went backstage and directly to her dressing room as she hastily put her robe on. She was aware of everyone watching her and understood that, but her feelings didn’t come from that. It was coming from something else to Samira; it was a warning sign. She wanted to leave, but the money tonight would be fruitful, and she needed it. But was it worth being watched like she was prey all night? 

As she stepped back onto the stage in a new outfit that was darker in tone, she adorned her hair with red roses and wore matching red lipstick. Moving her hips side to side sensually and seductively, she caught the gaze of someone in the crowd. He was tall, with dark hair, and from her glance, she noticed his expressionless face. Her emerald eyes unknowingly locked onto the figure of death, causing her heart to race even faster.

She closed her eyes momentarily and began to dance, turning her back towards the crowd. She undid her bra and let it drop, and more money was tossed her way. While she felt grateful, she wished she had never gone through that wormhole at that moment. When her dance ended, she found herself back in the dressing room. Quickly, she put on her street clothes and gathered her tips. 

Leaving in a hurry, she walked to her vehicle and drove home. As Samira entered the parking lot of her apartment, she took a deep breath. After grabbing her bag from the car, she headed towards the apartment doorway, but a lingering feeling of being watched unsettled her. Looking over her shoulder as she entered her apartment, she quickly shut the door behind her. Little did Samira know she was right; someone was watching her.
  Zae

Two weeks prior, when Zae accepted this job, all he possessed was the target’s name and the enticingly high bounty placed on her head. He had managed to secure half of the payment upfront, a rather generous sum that provided him with the immediate thrill of financial security. Zae wasn’t entirely human, but he was bound to the earthly realm, an existence governed by the powerful allure of money. The almighty dollar dictated his choices, and he needed it; he had never excelled in mundane jobs or the nine-to-five grind. Being a paid assassin turned out to be his most viable option to survive in a world that thrived on currency.

In a life that felt like a distant memory—he was a New Yorker raised under the enigmatic tutelage of a secret order of Assassins. He had walked the busy streets, lived among the noise, and embraced the chaos that defined the city. But death had come for him, offering an unexpected deal: reap souls for a chance at immortality. Without a second thought, Zae seized the opportunity, diving into the abyss of his new reality. Initially, he found himself peacefully guiding souls towards the afterlife, a role that seemed noble but stifling. It wasn’t what he truly craved. The thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline rush of a kill—that was what fueled him. So, he rebelled, breaking ranks and opting for freelance assignments that sparked his twisted interests.

He had been tailing his target for weeks, a ghost in the shadows, watching her navigate her daily existence, unaware of the reaper lurking just beyond her periphery. Originally, the mission seemed straightforward—simply a job to carry out—but as time dragged on, Zae found himself captivated by her presence. She was undeniably alluring, and while he attempted to convince himself that it was merely the allure of the bounty on her head that intrigued him, the physical attraction added another layer of complexity. A primal urge stirred within him, and before he knew it, he was toying with the idea of delaying her demise, wanting to play with fire before finally cashing in on her life.

The identity of the person who wanted her dead was a murky subject. Communication was limited to a distorted voice on the line, accompanied by a faceless silhouette when they met. Although this aspect didn’t faze Zae—the allure of cold, hard cash was enough to keep him tethered to the job, regardless of its murky foundations.

As he continued to follow her around, he became increasingly frustrated by her workplace—a strip club teeming with leering patrons. Seeing those too eager, too hungry, coveting her beauty ignited a jealous rage within him. He envisioned snapping their necks and dragging her away from their predatory gazes. The struggle to maintain his self-control became a monumental task—his restraint wouldn’t just be tested by the men surrounding her, but also by her captivating presence.

Zae started sneaking into her apartment at night as she slept, each foray intensifying his internal conflict. The first time he did so, he realized he had stepped too far over an invisible line; being near her stirred emotions he couldn’t quite place. The familiar rush of predatory instincts warred with a newfound desire—a wish to simply possess, to consume her in every sense. His plans to end her life began to drift, replaced by obsessive longing.

As days turned into restless nights, he devised ways to integrate himself into her life. Initially, it began in small gestures—slipping into her home unnoticed, leaving delicate moonflowers that required precise timing to bloom. He raided her refrigerator, sampling her tequila and relocating her belongings, just to see the confusion in her eyes when she returned home. More troubling was the way he’d sometimes slip into her bed while she dreamt, feeling her warmth envelop him as she instinctively nestled against him. Watching her sleep, entranced, Zae sometimes questioned the morality of his madness.

Tonight, he found himself in that very position. She was sprawled peacefully on his chest, oblivious to the tumult of emotions swirling within him. His fingers wove through her hair in rhythmic strokes, grounding him even as his thoughts spiraled. The previous nights had seen him spike her tequila with sleeping pills, ensuring she remained blissfully unaware of his presence. But tonight was different; he abstained. After witnessing her at work, the desire to be near her grew overwhelmingly selfish, compelling him to come, to reside in the moment—before the inevitable reckoning arrived. Little did she know, Zae’s intentions were far from innocent, and the time of reckoning was drawing ever closer.
  Sami

"Thud thud thud thud"-the sound of her own heartbeat was a constant reminder of Samira’s anxiety. She was safe in her apartment, with every door and window securely locked. Yet, the fear of her mysterious situation lingered. She tried to reassure herself, "Eredin couldn’t have found me. He lacks the power and resources." But her inner turmoil persisted, refusing to be silenced. 

"Dear dear girl...." the voice was gentle and calming. "Tonight you should rest and tomorrow we will continue to find ways to get you out of here..." Sighing at the voice that vacated her mind, she turned her head and looked at her counter. A  neat stack of mail that was on it, Samira didn’t remember putting it together like that. Her Emerald hues traced over to the Moonflower that had just blossomed. It was brought to her a few nights ago without a name or any idea of who it was from. A secret admirer, perhaps? The only one that knew her favorite flower was her best friend Luis and he was known to try and play "Match Maker". Whoever the admirer was, they may be worth meeting... Moonflowers were costly. 

"I need a drink..." Samira’s voice trembled as she approached her liquor cart. The array of spirits seemed to mock her, each bottle a reminder of her inner turmoil. Her hand, small and delicate, hesitated over the choices. Finally, she reached for her Mezcal glass, pouring a large gulp in an attempt to drown her emotions.

Closing her eyes in a attempt to relax and gather her thoughts she would try to calculate in her head the precise time the Moon Flower would close, perhaps she would be correct tonght? Or was it morning? The days were blending. Samira took another large sip of her drink and she put it down and she headed to the shower, a sanctuary of peace and solitude. 

The sound of the shower being turned on bounced off the walls in her bathroom. Stripping off her clothing, Samira stepped into the shower, feeling the warmth of the water trickle down her soft, porcelain skin. Washing away the day, the scent of Jasmine and Coconuts mixed with the steam of the shower gathered all around her apartment, resembling her own. Singing gently as she relaxed her body, trying to cure any anxieties, the lyrics to her favorite love song escaped her lips. 

"All our times have come, here but now they’re gone. Seasons don’t fear the reaper, nor do  the wind, the sun, or the rain. We can be like they are. Come on, baby, don’t fear the reaper, baby, take my hand, don’t fear the reaper. We’ll be able to fly, so don’t fear the reaper. Baby, I’m your man."

She rinsed her body while trailing her fingers up and down her stomach, her voice elevating louder. For someone so petite, her loud voice carried a melody elegantly with an accent of warmth and light. Her exotic accent, mixed with her melody, gave her a unique sound. 

"La, la, la, la. La, la, la, la. Love of two is one, here, but now they’re gone. Came the last night of sadness, and it was clear she couldn’t go on. Then the door was open, and the wind appeared; the candles blew and disappeared. The curtains flew, and then he appeared, saying don’t be afraid. Come on, baby, and she had no fear, and she ran to him, then they started to fly, they looked backward and said goodbye, she had become like they are, she had taken his hand, she had become like they are. Come on, baby, don’t fear the reaper..."

Turning off and stepping out of the shower, Samira wrapped herself in an oversized, pink, fluffy towel. She finished getting ready for her slumber, though by now she would almost fall asleep, but tonight she felt more alert - this hadn’t happened in a while. Samira dropped her towel and walked to her bedroom. She put on a pair of hot pink lace panties and a Slipknot t-shirt and then climbed into bed, turning on the TV. It didn’t matter what was on; she just needed sound to sleep, but ironically, her favorite late-night show, "Rick and Morty’ was on. Smiling some, she reached by her bedside table and grasped onto her Rick and Morty bong. Packing it with fresh flower, she took a large rip as she watched Rick belittle Morty. 

At last, comfort and calmness for the moment. Then, finally, Samira was curled up asleep and unknowingly against a stranger. She was in danger for sure, and she would stir in her sleep because she had grown to have a dependence on sleeping pills. But she never took them, not to her knowledge. 

She was trailing between dreaming and awake, and when her Emerald eyes fluttered open, she caught the scent of cologne mixed with a smokey natural scent. Her head pressed against an unknown chest, and the same dark eyes had met with hers at the strip club that night. 

This was fight or flight.....

Samira jumped and fought her way out of what felt like Death’s grip. Responding quickly to fight like she was raised, she grabbed the butterfly knife strategically placed under her pillow for inconveniences like this and jumped backward off her bed. "Stand back! Who are you? And what the f*** are you doing here?!?!?!??!?!" She yelled, still pointing it at the dark and mysterious man. He was around 6’3", with dark hair and eyes that were Black as chaos and the void. His jawline was very distinguished.

"Beautiful Death..." Maia’s voice echoed inside of Samira’s mind. There was something about him, she was instantly drawn to him, but why? Emerald eyes were locked onto him and then Samira realized her phone was on the side of the bed of where he was. Her hand gripped the knife handle and she waited for his answer. She could have killed him as well, but like all Fertility Goddesses, it wasn’t their nature to kill. Instead, they served Justice.  

"I will ask again, and I want a God Damn answer... who... the... F***... ARE YOU?!?!?!" Showing sternness in her expression. 
  Zae

Zae had been toying with the reckless notion of getting caught for days now, allowing the thrill of danger to dance tantalizingly at the edges of his thoughts. However, standing here, face to face with her, was not quite how he had envisioned it playing out in his mind’s eye. Now, the moment had arrived, and the gamble had become a reality, and there was no turning back.

His dark, piercing eyes roamed over her, taking in the sight of her as she brandished a butterfly knife, its blade glinting defiantly in the dim light, pointed directly at him. The image was almost worth the risk he had taken; she looked undeniably cute, standing there with an air of fearless determination, but he felt no trace of intimidation. Instead, he lounged casually, crossing one ankle over the other, as he reclined slightly on the bed hands clasped behind his head in an attitude of lazy confidence.

"Nah, my pretty little moon flower," he drawled, a playful lilt to his voice that masked the underlying tension of the standoff. "I think the better question is: who wants you dead? Enough to pay me to do it." His lips curled into a wicked smirk, revealing sharp, elongated canines that gave him a heightened, predatory appearance. He briefly pulled his mask back down, leaving only his eyes visible, those void-like depths momentarily fixated on the knife in her hand before returning to her expressive face.

"That’s not going to do much but tease me, princess," he quipped, his voice dripping with dark humor as a satisfied glimmer flickered in his eyes. He uncrossed his ankles and rose to his full height of 6’3", exuding a commanding presence. Clad in an ensemble of black attire—oversized hoodie with the hood drawn up, fitted jeans, sturdy combat boots, and a half-skull mask cloaking the lower half of his face—he resembled nothing less than a specter of the night.

With a predator’s grace, he began to close the distance between them, stalking towards her with the calculated poise of a wolf cornering its prey. His cold, calculating gaze remained locked onto her vibrant green eyes, gazing into the depths of her resolve, as he pulled his own blade from the holster clipped to his belt. The metal caught the faint light, glistening ominously as he flipped it expertly in his hand, the movement smooth and practiced.

"Here, use this," he said, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips beneath his mask as he extended the handle of his knife towards her, urging her closer as he pressed her back toward the unforgiving wall behind her. It was an invitation wrapped in challenge, a game both thrilling and dangerous, he could hear their hearts pounding in sync to some cosmic rhythm, amid the tension that crackled in the air between them. This wasn’t just an encounter; it was a dance on the edge of darkness, and he was eager to see just how far they could push the limits together.
  Sami

"Moonflower?" She pondered this for a moment before narrowing her eyes at the man who held her fate in his hands. Gripping her blade tighter, she realized he knew more than she had initially suspected. 

"You’re the one sending the moonflowers? How the hell do you know about that?"She shook her head, and her long raven-colored hair swayed with the movement, causing a few soft tendrils to fall gently in front of her face. Letting out a breath, she blew the tendrils aside so she could keep her eyes fixed on him.

Samira’s heart raced erratically, and she felt a tightness in her chest. A growing sense of dread settled over her as she realized the inevitable was approaching, causing her to tremble slightly. When it came to someone wanting her dead, only one person came to mind: her father. If he had managed to hire a hitman to carry out her assassination, it was clear he was close. Samira was being hunted; she was an ethereal girl, sacred and crucial to rescuing the Aen Elle Elves. Her father sought her because of the immense power she possessed. Unfortunately for Samira, that energy force lay dormant within her ever since she was stranded on Earth; all that remained was the guiding spirit inside her.

The enlarged fangs extended from Death’s face, and Samira realized that he wasn’t human. He was unlike anything she had encountered before. As she watched him casually rise from her bed, her eyes were glued to his predatory movements. He stalked toward her, and she stood frozen like a doe caught in headlights. His gaze shifted down to her blade, and Samira noticed that he seemed unimpressed by it, but that was the least of her worries.

While he removed the blade from his holster and moved closer to her, she could tell each step was strategically calculated by him. Chaos was fueling her, and she couldn’t think straight. Samira looked up as he moved in closer to her; she moved backward slowly as she watched him offer his blade to her, an invitation to kill him. As he walked foward, she moved backwards trying to plot her own movement. 

"Ow! Ah!" She yelped when her back hit the cold and hard wall, and his body was softly pressed against hers. He stood authoritative, and his blackened hues felt like they were infiltrating her soul. Locking eyes with death gave her fear, anxiety, excitement, and curiosity, and out of all the feelings she could feel, lust was on the top of the list. He was astonishing, even with his mask. 

Looking up at those dark, void-like eyes, her heart raced, and her body felt limp, while her inner goddess danced within her soul. Was she going to die? No, she couldn’t allow that to happen. Why was her potential killer making her feel so weak? Then it hit her: was he really going to kill her? He handed her his blade, which had to be a sign of trust, right? Her swirling thoughts continued to flood her mind.

"You’re not going to kill me... are you?" she asked, standing on her toes in an attempt to lift his mask again. Her gentle touch traced along his jawline while removing the mask. She wasn’t afraid of him; in fact, she was beginning to find this attempt on her life oddly captivating. Her heart raced, as if it would leap out of her chest. "I can’t die. I go into long rests, which means your job will never be finished. I hope the wording in your contract is correct. Did you not complete your assignment before the big dance?" Her voice was both stern and melodic, laced with hints of sensuality, it was masking the shaking to it. 

"Why don’t we go to my living room?" I pour us each a drink, and we settle this properly. You don’t want to kill me; I can see it in your eyes....." A gentle smile curved across her lips, and she softly moved her lithe and petite body against him, trying to slip away. "Let me go or kill me... either way, this could end up being a waste of time, so you might as well make it worth it." Her eyes were deadlocked onto his as both her breathing and heart rate would depreciate. 
  Zae

"I haven’t fully decided yet," he admitted, his voice laced with uncertainty as he continued to weave a web of intrigue around his true intentions. The confident façade he tried to maintain shattered just slightly; he didn’t appreciate how well she could read him. Her eyes seemed to pierce through his carefully constructed layers, making him feel exposed. To deflect from the vulnerability creeping in, he feigned deep contemplation, his brows knitting together as if weighing the substantial implications of his options. "I mean, it is a really big payout," he added with a smirk, letting a hint of bravado seep back into his demeanor, his charm attempting to mask the inner conflict brewing beneath.

As she reached out, her fingers brushing against the edges of his mask, he felt a shiver of excitement intermingle with apprehension. This was not simply a playful gesture; it was an assertion of intimacy, and he didn’t want to yield that ground just yet. When she attempted to maneuver past him, offering a drink as a peace offering, he swiftly reacted, planting both palms against the wall to block her path, effectively pinning her in place. The sudden intimacy of the moment sent a thrill racing through him, and his dark eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and amusement.

“I wouldn’t drink anything in this apartment, honestly,” he quipped, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of seriousness that was impossible to ignore. 

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that felt electric in the space between them. “I may have drugged most of the liquor in your apartment,” he confessed, allowing the words to hang in the air. It was a secret meant to unsettle her, perhaps even to elicit a reaction he wasn’t sure he could predict. The thrill of corrupting something innocent heightened the stakes, enticing him further down a perilous path.

As he leaned away again, he reached up to tuck a stray piece of her black hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her skin, delicate yet charged with tension. The brief contact sent an unexpected jolt through him, something he hadn’t anticipated amidst the games they were playing. He couldn’t quite decipher whether this was just a game or something deeper, something that beckoned him to unravel her mysteries—and perhaps reveal his own.
  Sami

Samira noticed that his demeanor and actions were reminiscent of someone fueled by darkness and death. He wore a mask physically and metaphorically, and she picked up on this early in their encounter. She thought she could escape, but when his hands pinned her against the wall, she wrinkled her brows and narrowed her eyes at this Reaper of Darkness. As he moved in closer, her body trembled slightly. She tried to hide her nerves, but it was strict with him so near. An electrifying tension ignited between them, allowing her inner goddess to awaken again.

"Sweet, sweet girl... There will be time for formalities between you and this troubled soul, but you need to escape his grip right now..." Maia, the goddess residing within her, was intrigued. Samira’s inner conflict between fight and flight was fading. She was becoming weaker under The Reaper’s influence. His commanding and authoritative presence called to her. As he moved closer, she bit her bottom lip. The sensation of his breath on her earlobe made her gasp, igniting a tingling sensation throughout her body. However, everything came to a halt with one statement.

"I may have drugged most of the liquor in your apartment," His words were smooth and carried a melody of sweet death. A loud growl from her guide infiltrated her mind, and her expression went from epicurean to blank. 

"Knee and push him, then run for it!" Maia echoed in her mind. Her emerald eyes were locked onto his. Haistly, she raised her left knee and made a heavy impact between his legs. Pushing him surprisingly far,  the bed where he had her in his embrace a moment ago caught him. Samira savagely and quickly jumped on top of him, straddling his lap with her blade ironically in her hand. Her bright green eyes glowed in the limited light, looking down at her potential killer. 

"Sweet girl! No! You must not kill; we try to refrain from being unsainted!!" Samira wrinkled her brow once again and slammed her blade next to his head, piercing through her sheets and the mattress. Gritting her teeth, her relatively small enlarged canines subtly appeared. 

"When I get off you, you’re going to stand the f*** up, walk your ass out of my bedroom, and you’re going to sit your ass down on my couch. I know I don’t need to show you since you have managed to help yourself to my stuff....." She slowly moved against him as she stood backward and eventually stood to her feet. Her hair was slightly messy from their encounter, and her Slipknot shirt was oversized and gave just enough cover for her behind. 

Samira placed her hand on her hip and arched her left brow, looking at The Reaper. "Go on, go sit down!" she demanded. He was beautiful and intriguing, and yet, even though he harmed her, she still wanted to get to know him. Perhaps she was sick in the head. Maybe she was love starved, but, Samira was feeling love struck in that moment.
  Zae

He knew that finding excitement in the sensation of a blade pressed against his throat was a sign of insanity, a twisted thrill that most people would find disturbing. Yet, in this moment, he was conflicted. It wasn’t merely the knife that sent shivers of adrenaline coursing through him; it was the presence of its wielder. He had faced numerous blades in his time at the academy, each one a mere tool of intimidation, but never had he felt the rush of fear and exhilaration that accompanied this particular confrontation.

As he wrestled with these thoughts, Zae came to a few stark realizations that crystallized in the haze of adrenaline. First, he acknowledged that his mental state was far from stable; the truth was, he’d come to terms with his own madness long ago. It was a part of him now, like a shadow that refused to leave. Second, he recognized a clear commitment—there was no way in hell he could bring himself to harm this girl. In the face of danger, he would put her safety above his own, willing to meet his end before laying a finger on her. Lastly, he faced a grim practicality: he needed a new strategy. The reality of their situation loomed over him like a storm cloud. If he didn’t manage to deliver her, he was certain that a bounty would be placed on his head and the thought was chilling.

When she finally released her grip and commanded him to take a seat on the couch, he complied without hesitation. The weight of the world was pressing down on him, and he had too much swirling chaos within his mind to engage in a futile argument with her. With every heavy step, his combat boots echoed against the floor, a reminder of the situation he was in as he walked into the living room.

Sinking onto the couch, he felt a sense of urgency wash over him. He knew he had to convince this girl that their best chance for survival lay in staying together. They needed to find a safe haven to lie low until they could ascertain who exactly was behind the threat against her life. The stakes were high; if he failed to make himself known to the one issuing the order, it was only a matter of time before more assassins would come knocking. Not just for her, but for him too. It would undoubtedly complicate their situation, and Zae had no illusions about the hell they would find themselves in if that were to happen. Partnering up was not just a strategic move—it was the only sensible option if they wanted to keep each other alive.

In that moment, he resolved to protect her, to forge a plan that would assure their survival against the looming threat. He felt a spark of determination ignite within him. Being together was their only shot at finding out who was pulling the strings, and he was ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead, with her by his side. Together, they would figure this out. Together, they would stand a fighting chance.
  Sami

Watching him walk away with a changed demeanor, the sound of his boots echoed off her hardwood floors. Samira went to her nightstand and her phone. Her eyes trailing over to the bed, she saw where her knife was lying in the messy sheets. She wanted to take it, but realizing he obeyed her command made her feel it wasn’t necessary. ’He needs quieter boots if he’s going to kill people...’ speaking under her breath as she walked through the threshold. While doing so, her eyes shifted to this mysterious man who was contracted to kill her but had chosen to spare her life. The reason for his decision remained a mystery, adding to the enigma of the situation. A pondering look on his face made her wonder, but first, she figured they both needed a drink, and the bottle of vodka tucked in her freezer should be untampered with. 

She walked slowly, keeping her eye on him; her gait was naturally whimsical, like a dancer. She walked into her kitchen, opening the freezer. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out the bottle and checked to see if the seal was broken. Still with it in her hand, she grabbed two shot glasses and made her way back to him. The shot glasses were resting on the table in front of Zae, and she poured into each of them. 

"I know you didn’t touch this...." Her tone was dry as she pressed her cupid bow-shaped lips together. She handed him a shot and picked up the other, holding it freely in her hand. Taking her shot before him, she studied him, her sense of fairness guiding her. "What is your name? You already know mine; it’s only fair...." Her fingertips were trailing along the rim of her shot glass. "Second, what happens if an Assassin doesn’t finish the job here?" She asked, looking upward. Samira knew she was a target, but did this make him a target? She defaulted automatically to her normal thought processes of ensuring others were cared for. Feelings of nurturing instantly filled Samira; she could tell he was troubled about something. 
  Zae

He took the shot glass that she had meticulously filled with smooth, glistening vodka, the clear liquid catching the soft glow of the dimly lit room. As she leaned forward, her voice probing with sharp questions, he lifted the glass to his lips without hesitation, downing the burning alcohol in one swift motion. The warmth spread through him, temporarily chasing away the chill that always seemed to linger in his bones.

Setting the empty glass back onto the coffee table, he turned his gaze toward her, the cold, void-like depths of his eyes softening ever so slightly—a flicker of vulnerability, perhaps. “My name’s Azael,” he said, his voice gravelly yet steady, “but you can call me Zae.” There was a pause, a moment of reflection that hung heavily in the air, before he picked up the bottle again. With a practiced hand, he filled the shot glass once more, not taking his eyes off her as he quickly downed it again, the action almost ritualistic.

“When I don’t deliver,” he continued, the weight of his reality settling back onto him, “they will put out a bounty on my head too.” The words were heavy, laden with the implications of danger and the high stakes of his world. His mind began to race, contemplating the numerous paths he could take, calculating each risk with meticulous precision. Right now, he figured the best course of action was to keep checking in with his contact, maintaining an air of normalcy, feigning that everything was proceeding as planned. At least, until they potentially devised a better strategy.

“You know we can’t stay here, right?” he said, his tone shifting, becoming more urgent. “We have to hide somewhere until we find out who wants you dead.” 
  Sami

"Well, Zae, my name is Samira. You can call me Sami, but..." Pausing for a moment, her eyes locking onto Zae’s, she sees a slight hope in them, a calling to her, maybe? She felt her decisions as of late had been questionable, especially since she was now sitting next to someone who was contracted to kill her. 

’But you already knew this.." Her voice trailed, and she slowly stood up. She paced back and forth for a moment, thinking and contemplating a plan in her head, but Samira’s planning stopped when she heard Zae’s words about his outcome. "A, a... a bounty?" asking rhetorically and worriedly. She placed her fingertips to her lips; she felt for the guy; she did, but that lingering fear filled her. Was this just a hoax? Her mind wandered for a moment, but Zae brought her back to reality. 

"What?" Samira stopped dead in her tracks, her emerald eyes fixed on Zae. "What do you mean?" She sat beside Zae once again, her voice trembling with angst. "We can’t stay here? I mean... I know that, but, like.... uhm...." Fear was shaking in her voice. "Where are we going to go? I barely know anyone outside of here. Do you? And I just literally learned your name... and lord knows what you already know about me!" Her nerves were on edge, the fear of her unknown assailant threatening to overwhelm her.

"My guess is my father, but.... how? how did he find me?" She looked at Zae, and she bit her bottom lip. She looked ahead at the coffee table and the bottle of vodka sitting there. Grabbing it hastily, she poured herself another shot and filled up Zae’s again. She downed hers and then quickly refilled it, realizing her fate. Noticing that Zae’s was empty, she poured him another one. With her shot glass in her hand, she faced Zae, her Emerald eyes beaming at him through her long, full eyelashes. 

"Well, here’s to what happens next. Let’s see where life takes us together and ensure we stay alive," Samira said. The girl was at a loss for words; all she knew was that the next chapter of her life would be with him, stirring something deep within her heart. Zae was someone she barely knew, yet the multiverse seemed to have different plans for her and this deadly assassin.

They both downed their shots, and Samira set her glass down on the coffee table. "Okay, yes, contacts... great idea. Um, do they need pictures? I can smear fake blood on myself, but if it’s my father, he should know that I can’t die unless he has someone else set up for this," she said, determined to get to the bottom of it.
  Zae

He took the last shot she poured him, letting the vodka ignite a searing trail down his throat, a fiery reminder of the gravity of their situation. Thoughts raced through his mind like wildfire, desperate whispers of a game plan that could ensure their survival crystallizing in his mind. He locked eyes with her, the weight of his decision pressing down heavily. “I need you to go pack a bag. Bring only what you need and what you can’t part with. I’m not sure when we’ll come back here.” His voice was steady, though the undercurrent of tension was palpable as he set the empty shot glass down on the coffee table. With purposeful movements, he stood up, retrieving his phone from his pocket—a lifeline in a storm of uncertainty.

His thumb scrolled through the messages from the shadowy figure who had orchestrated his dark mission, the one who had manipulated him into this twisted game. A chill ran down his spine as he typed out, ‘She’s running, headed south it seems. Might take me a little longer,’ and quickly hit send, the words sealing his fate. He shifted gears then, pulling up a number he had vowed never to use again. Desperate times called for desperate measures. As the phone rang, he felt the weight of each tone echoing his mounting anxiety. On the third ring, the line clicked, answering him with an unsettling silence that stretched thin.

“‘With strange eons even death may die,’” he murmured into the void, the phrase from H.P. Lovecraft serving as a chilling lifeline to the one on the other end—a signal that he was in danger, tangled in a web he could no longer unravel alone. With that, he hung up, heart racing as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. He turned back to see her. the weight of his choices lingering in the air as he steeled himself for what was to come. The dire reality was that time was not on their side, and every second spent in this place was a moment closer to danger closing in around them.
  Sami

Seeing the look in Zae’s eyes made her realize how critical the situation was. His demand for her to pack a bag and travel lightly ironically weighed heavy on her. Where would they go? How would she run from her father’s grip? He had an army, and she? She only had herself and her new recruit, whom she was placing her trust in now. She stood lightly to her feet, nodded her head, looked at Zae, and headed to her bedroom.

As she headed to her closet and opened the door, her anxiety began to mount. She searched for her most enormous travel bag, eventually pulling out her sizeable pink travel bag and placing it on her bed, opening it up. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on her. She knew she had to get dressed and made sure to account for that, but the question was, where were they going? Samira wanted to ask Zae, but she could hear him whispering a quote. She couldn’t help but try to exercise an old skill she had, but it seemed useless. She could hear Zae’s mumbles on the phone, but couldn’t her the qoute. The sound of rattling pockets could be heard from the other room, it sounded like Zae was placing his phone in his pocket.  

Samira first gathered her sketch pad and her pencils, and then she needed to know the type of clothing she needed to pack. "Uhm, Zae? Can you come in here for a moment?" She called out to him as she was packing, her voice betraying her growing unease. She heard his boots coming towards her bedroom and looked at him as he stood on the threshold of her doorway. The room was still dimly lit. "Where are we going? Do we have a direction? Or are we going to some nameless city? Who was that?" She asked curiously, and it sounded as if she was rambling. She stopped momentarily, facing him, and took a deep breath, "I’m sorry; I know you are risking your head now, and I don’t know why, but I am grateful. I ramble when  I am nervous. But I need to know where we are going so I can pack the right clothing..." She said, reaching into her drawer by her bedside, which held a unique black obsidian crystal. Samira took it out of her drawer, held onto it, and went for a few mixed crystals as well. 
  Zae

He walked into her room; leaning against the doorframe, he crossed his arms and watched her as she packed and rambled off questions. The soft rustling of clothing filled the air as she threw items haphazardly into her suitcase, her anxiety evident in each swift movement. He answered the easiest one first, trying to project calmness.

"Bring a little bit of everything; if you need something and end up not having it, we can just get you new stuff." With that, he pushed away from the doorframe and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "As for your other questions," he continued, taking a breath before revealing his plan. "I called in a favor to some old friends. I told the people who hired me you were heading south, so we’re heading northeast." It seemed like a pretty good strategy right off the top of his head, but the unease in his stomach hinted that he still had to come up with something better. He glanced toward the window, the moonlight casting hues across the room, contrasting sharply with the tension brewing in the air. "Leave all your electronics, as f***ing sketchy as that sounds. I swear it’s not. I just don’t want them to be able to track us. I’m leaving mine too. I’ll get us a couple of burner phones from my place on the way out."

The plan felt both reckless and calculated, and he knew better than anyone that every detail mattered now. All they had to do was make it to New York. There, once they were inside the assassin compound he grew up in, it would be a little harder for someone to get to them. The thought of returning there sent a cold shiver down his spine, but he swallowed his pride and forced himself to play nice; after all, what was safer than being surrounded by a league of assassins? At that moment, he realized it wasn’t just about tactics; it was about protecting her—something he was determined to do, no matter the cost.
  Sami

The thought of running again unleashed a whirlwind of memories in Samira’s mind. As Zae, her new traveling companion, sat at the edge of the bed, her eyes were fixed on him. What if they were separated? What if a rift in the cosmic veil forced them apart? A dark feeling washed over Samira as a flashback flooded her thoughts.

Running through the cosmos was not as extravagant as the movies on Earth portrayed. Arriving on a new planet was treacherous, whether by crash landing or encoding herself into its DNA beneath the surface. The last planet she visited before she jump into the wormhole that led her to Earth was cold, its landscape blanketed in snow, and there was not a soul in sight except...

The Flashback:

She was running, the bitter cold and harsh winds whipping against her face. She had to keep running; there was no other way. Sami felt it was nothing short of pure luck that her father hadn’t captured her yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time before that would change. 

The sounds of the Phantom Riders trailed behind her—some on foot, others mounted on beastly creatures, and some flying overhead. Samira pushed herself to run as fast as she could, her speed surpassing that of any ordinary human. As she reached for her blade, her body emitted a shimmering light of iridescence—gold, pink, and black. 

She felt herself fading as Maia infiltrated her mind, guiding her along the way. "Play nice until the time is right, Maia instructed. There, I sense a tear in space and time..."

Wincing at Maia’s voice echoing in her mind, she slowed as she saw her father ahead getting off of his horse, drawing his sword, and walking towards Samira. Gripping her bade in her hand, her heart raced to see him. She could kill him now, but what good would that be? The entire Wild Hunt would have her without his command, which could have been far worse. Like her mother once was, she was at the mercy of her father. Eredin, The King of The Wild Hunt, was inches from her. 

"You will come with me whether it’s willingly or not, Marw Belletyn," His voice was low, ethereal, and pronounced. "Like f***ing hell!" She yelled, her voice backed by echos, rumbling the ground below her feet. Samira gripped her blade. Eredin moved closer, and Samira, gritting her teeth she charged at her father. Quickly planning a strategic move, she acted as if she was reckless and chaotic like she always was, but while her father swung his sword to disable her, the girl did the unthinkable. Samira lept high, allowing the forceful winds to guide and move with her. Samira twirled delicately above her father, maneuvering her blade to gain a swift attack at his ankles and her plan failing for the moment when one of her father’s hounds jumped and bit her arm, her red and golden blood-shedding onto the snow, melting it. Her blood seeped into the depths of the roots of the planet. ’Ahhh!!!!!’ Samira yelled, the decibels in her voice growing louder and reaching to the Wild Hunt ahead, who was at a halt, causing them to stagger, some falling to the ground. Samira looked at Eredin, who was staggering but still holding onto his sword. 

Samira stepped back, her movements careful and graceful, circling as if Eredin were her prey. All she wanted was enough space to escape into the wormhole that Maia had told her about. Eredin advanced, and Samira pirouetted away. As she twirled, she edged closer to a spot where she could transform into a ball of light and leave this land. However, Eredin was closing in on her. Without any choice, Samira ran toward him again, and like father, like daughter, they both aimed for each other’s faces. Fortunately for Samira, Eredin missed his target due to his precarious position.

Samira’s blade dug into his left eye, and when turning the blade, she gripped the handle and made a scoop motion. Eredin’s eye popped out of the socket, flying across the open emptiness of the lands, and then it would land in the snow. The flowers bloomed where Samira’s bloodshed from her wounds, and this was her chance to get out, leaving the planet as a ball of light. 

When Samira stopped dissociating, she heard Zae talking about what needed to be done. A sense of unease washed over her; Zae didn’t fully understand the danger posed by her father. A sliver of moonlight illuminated her face, highlighting her emerald eyes as she observed Zae. "Zae... " Her gentle voice faltered, fear creeping in for his safety. "Zae, you don’t realize what you’ve gotten yourself into... I am... I am... something not many know about or have even heard of..."

She looked away for a moment, gathering her special stash of candy and packing her weed. Finally, she stuffed a small, plush creature that looked like a monster into her bag—something she slept with every night. Her eyes locked onto Zae’s once more, tears welling up. She didn’t want to put anyone in danger, but Zae had sealed their fates with a single text. 

“My father is a warlord from another world; I am from another world too. We won’t just be running here on Earth—we will be fleeing to different worlds, Zae. Once I can figure out how to use my powers here, I maybe able to portal us out of here.” Her brow furrowed as she wrapped up her packing, contemplating the vast unknowns that lay to the northeast of the country. There was a lot they could encounter. Taking a deep breath, she instructed Zae to turn his head so she could change out of her sleepwear and into pants and a band t-shirt. As she dressed, with Zae still in the bedroom, she asked, “What’s in  the northeast, and whose vehicle are we taking?”     
  Zae

Every single word that slipped from her lips was carefully crafted to serve as a warning, perhaps even an attempt to frighten him away. She wanted him to hesitate, to reconsider the path he was on, to take a moment and truly contemplate the implications of the situation they found themselves in. Yet, in stark contrast to her intentions, her warnings only stirred the primal instinct within him—a deep, relentless urge to protect her. There was simply no way in hell he could imagine walking away from this, from her. She had entered his life like a tempest, and now that he had found her, all that mattered was holding on with everything he had. She wouldn’t be able to venture even ten feet in any direction without him shadowing her movements, always a step behind, ready to defend her against whatever dangers lay ahead.

The darker part of his psyche scoffed at his predicament. “You really should’ve just killed her,” it chided, an insidious whisper that slithered through his thoughts. “It would’ve made things so much simpler. You could’ve collected your payment and sauntered off, carefree and unbothered.” The voice in his head taunted him, its twisted logic wrapping around his consciousness like a serpent. “I mean, just look at her. You know you want to see her bleed, don’t you? Imagine feasting on her essence, gorging yourself on the intoxicating elixir that is her very soul.”

Zae mentally rolled his eyes at himself, determined to push those darker inclinations far away. He had enough on his plate without diving into the depths of his own psychological turmoil. Yet, despite his efforts to silence that sinister voice, it did carry a kernel of truth. He was starting to feel the familiar pangs of hunger gnawing at his insides, a reminder that it had been an entire month since he had last fed on a soul.

Just as those unsettling thoughts threatened to overtake him, Sami’s next few questions snapped him back to the present, grounding him in the reality of their situation. “We’re taking my car,” he declared firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he bent to pick up the duffle bag she had just packed. A smirk danced across his lips as he noticed the stuffed monster she had hurriedly crammed inside, its fabric seams straining against the weight of whatever it contained. He slung the bag over his shoulder with a mix of practicality and amusement.

“And we’re heading to New York,” he continued, his voice steady. “It’s where I grew up. The people I’ve called for help are the people who raised me. It’s a compound deep in the woods, shrouded and warded by magic, inhabited by assassins.” The gravity of his words hung in the air between them, a mixture of nostalgia and trepidation. He knew that taking her to that place meant exposing her to the dangers that lurked not just in the shadows of the world outside, but also within the dark recesses of his own soul. But he was resolute; he would do anything to ensure her safety, even if it meant confronting the very demons that clawed at his consciousness.
  Sami

It was a decision that demanded their utmost determination, a choice that wasn’t easy for either of them. Yet, it was their only hope. Watching Zae effortlessly lift her duffle bag, she grabbed one last item: her jacket and a trinket from her friend Luis. Leaving him behind was the most challenging part, but she was determined to go with Zae for their survival. 

"Magic..." mumbling under her breath, her eyes narrowing at him; magic could be dangerous and trackable, she thought. "New York?" a surprised expression appeared across her face when Sami spoke up,  "You don’t seem to have a New York accent, but then again, I only met folk from there at the strip club on business trips and such." She said as they walked out of her apartment together, locking the door behind her and unsure if she would ever return. Their quick decision would impact their entire existence for eternity, making it seem she had run to Zae’s protection. 

It was apparent Zae was in more of a rush than she thought; his hand enveloped hers while he quickly led the way out and approached his Dodge Challenger SRT Demon, parked in a distant spot from her apartment. Once inside the vehicle, they took off into the night. 

Space, time, and multiverses were funny little cosmic things, yet these two had managed to find each other in an unconventional way. 

Now, they were no longer two strangers just 36 hours away from their destination. They had become a united pair: a lost princess who embodied a Fertility Goddess and an unknowingly forgotten prince who was a Reaper. Together, they faced a serious matter of life and death.

Their adventure had just begun...

Tattoos: A fake pink tattoo of the word “unstoppable” written in jagged letters under her left collar bone.

Piercings: Both ear lobes and upper ear lobes.

Favorite Colors: Copper. Bronze. Reddish pinks. Reddish purples. Every shade of dark red. Neon red. Jewel tones. Every shade of brown and dark brown.

Makeup: Lip balm, white eyeliner on the bottom eyelid, and mascara.

Nails: Never adds fake nails. Keeps her real nails short. Every shade of brown and dark brown.

Hair colors: Natural hair color is dark/black.

Clothes: Lace, baker boy hats, taffeta, long sleeve shirts, skirts, lace pants, earrings, durags, chelsea boots, cashmere, bucket hats, slip on sneakers, pearls, rhinestones, corduroy, watches, red jaspers, and bloodstones.