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"World War One I was really busy... Ancient Greece was a pretty busy time too, but that is all a little sketchy." - Jaxxon Kennedy

“Oh, I suppose you were expecting Graham. Sorry to disappoint. He's out to lunch right now, taking a little nap back there in the corner of our consciousness, so you get Cain instead.” - Cain Ashton

"What was your plan, charming? Slit my throat and leave me for dead. Or were you going to make it look like a suicide?" - Clarice Van Helsing

“I have this condition, y'know, when I drink too much, I black out and do stupid shit—maybe you've heard of it? It's called getting really freakin' smashed.” - Troy Thomas

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 Baby, It's Cold Outside {RF}, Jesse/Bear
JESSE JOSEPH ABEL
Posted: May 16 2014, 10:02 AM


WANDERER - PLAYED BY BEAR
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Group: HUMAN IMMORTAL
Posts: 30
Member No.: 308
Joined: 2-December 13



Everything about Tommy was entrancing, like he had a sort of magic about him that went beyond what he'd been blessed with when marked by the phoenix. But when he decided he would slip into another world and act as the people there would, it was like watching someone else entirely. Something else, even, and Jesse was in love with the sensation of watching Vee like this almost as much, if not more, than the phoenix loved doing it himself. But then again, Virgil had always been larger than life, and Jesse often mused that maybe he was able to slip into another role so easily because he simply didn't fit on this plane of existence. He did well to stop himself from thinking about his partner in crime in such a light too often, as surely it was only steps away from holding him in a light next to godhood or some bullshit that was equally not appropriate. At the same time, however, it held some truth that Jesse couldn't quite understand, and wasn't sure he wanted to, but he watched the other man then with the same admiration and enjoyment as he had when he was a child, as if nothing about them had ever changed, as if nothing about them ever needed to.

Because despite eternity baring down on Jesse's shoulders, ever there to remind him that he should have died several times over and that he had yet to age a day since the ritual was complete, there was no one else he would've rathered sacrificed his humanity for. And if needed, he would've done it a million times over with as little thought as he had given it the first time. Even with the knowledge that there would come a time when Virgil finally, and ultimately passed. A time when his phoenix fire wouldn't heal all wounds and bring breath back into his body. A time when this - sitting in Jesse's cramped, battleworn car would only be something of memories and fading dreams. And this, along with everything else it entailed, was still worth it to see that look in Vee's eyes when he got like this.

So Jesse stifled his laughter, bottling it up along side his need and want and selfish, inappropriate thoughts to have about someone you called your brother. And though it threatened to burst at the seams, bus mouth struggling between bright, boyish grins and forced frowns in attempt to stay serious, he pulled his eyebrows in and managed a 'mmhm?' And 'oh?' Once or twice during the play by play. It was easy enough to get caught up in Virgil's enthusiasm, especially when it was about cheap porn, and he was never so thankful that such a thing was true, as it allowed him to forget, at least temporarily, how badly he wanted this to be under different circumstances. How badly he wanted Virgil to be okay with him being on top of him like this like they were lovers, not just boys acting out something they had seen.

But the spell suddenly broke, and like glass being shattered nearby when resting peacefully, Jesse couldn't help but jump a little under Vee's weight when it did. One moment the story was just that - a story. A retelling. But reality slipped in when the words were Virgil's own. Like a flood it hit Jesse all at once; the way the sides of his thighs warmed where they touched the phoenixes, and how that weight was almost uncomfortably, suddenly heavy. He realized the way Virgil's hands had been creeping up his chest, leaving trails of sweet, tingling sensation in their wake. And god, he was sure that the air had gotten thick and heavy, because all at once he was swallowing heavily as he stared into the pools of his companions eyes.

"Vee-" he started, barely above a whisper, the syllable getting caught in his throat, and then all at once forgotten when lips met lips. His heart stopped immediately, starting up again only when he realized Virgil wasn't pulling away, and that he had been the one to lean into him, instead of the other way around. This must have been like to live in one of those alternate realities that Vee was so easily able to pass between, he thought ever so briefly, before his head was screaming at him to take in every detail he could from this moment before Virgil was retracting and finding a way to make a joke out of the thing that Jesse had wanted more than anything. so he did, starting first at their lips, and the way Virgil's thick ones felt against his own, how they were the perfect balance of soft and rough in a way that he was sure was unique to the Phoenix, followed by the way he tasted like left over booze and smoke and drugs, but a little like magic, too. The way where his hands pressed against his chest felt hot and more alive than the rest of the skin on his body. How, without being told, his own hand had grabbed hold of the other mans shirt to pull him forward, bunching up the fabric like he threatened to tear it, while his other hand lingered around the other mans hip, unsure if it should dare to rest there.

He otherwise forced his body into a type of paralysis, like how when you're sleeping your muscles refuse to move so you don't act out on your dreams. And this, this was too close to the dream world that he should've been looking for clues that it wasn't real, but he was caught up in it, lost, again, in the sea of everything the other man was and everything he could do. But he didn't dare move or moan or react in the way he wanted to, worried this was just another fragile spell that could be as easily shattered and lost as it was found. So there he stayed, committing as much as he could to memory, and wishing, hoping, praying it would last for just one second more.

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VIRGIL THOMAS ANTONY ASHCROFT
Posted: May 16 2014, 10:39 PM


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Virgil always approached kisses with just slightly parted lips, un-expecting but hopeful. It was less awkward to transform into an actually sensual act but totally legit if nothing further happened. He just relaxed into kisses, folded himself into the game of coaxing a budding flower into becoming a bloom. And Virgil, especially when high, had thought, for quite the latter half of the 20th century, that music worked equally well for both plants and kisses, and used appropriate songs with the manipulative design of a film maker.

He broke suddenly, though not violently, from the middle of a kiss and fixed his eyes on Jesse's, his expression sharp. He'd curved his back away from Jesse's body as he had slumped into the pressure of his lips dragging against Jesse's stubble, and now he rolled his spine a little straighter, bringing their chests together again, though forcing his neck to bend as his head pressed, harder, against the roof of the car.

Tommy could feel Jesse's chest rising and falling intimately against his own, and he just sat there like that for a second, looking for all the world to find something that he'd just lost, his eyes darting over Jesse's features with a look of lazy concern. Then, almost as though it had never happen, Virgil's expression cleared and a smirk hopped onto his face. It was the face he usually wore before he'd get Jesse into trouble, but it was also the face he made when he felt he'd just gotten a really good idea.

"Oh I know what it is!" he whispered to Jesse. He fumbled in the passenger's seat as best he could without actively parting himself from Jesse. He let his forehead rest against Jesse's mouth as he searched for his phone and found it. He'd wiggled into an arch again, and he brought the phone into the cave between their bodies, his hairline against Jesse's cheek now. "I know what's wrong! It needs ridiculous music," he mumbled cheerfully as he flicked his phone to the perfect playlist, one that would play him something slow, play him something fearsome gentle, something sensual and worthy of being bitten to.

He was still smirking like an idiot when he dropped the phone on the seat next to them and brought his head back up. "There was music," he whispered as he grabbed the hem of his shirt and began awkwardly to try and pull it off, over his head in the confines of the car. "It was like they couldn't get the rights to any actual Christmas songs anyway, so they just had some trampy synth music that had bells incorporated." He dropped his shirt on the phone, muffling it, and then grabbed it up again, throwing it safely in the foot well this time. Returning to their kiss, his elbows rising to rest against Jesse's shoulders and spilling onto the back of the car's beat up driver's seat, Virgil added in a hazy tone, "This is way better."

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JESSE JOSEPH ABEL
Posted: May 17 2014, 10:03 PM


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Group: HUMAN IMMORTAL
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Joined: 2-December 13



Their life had a rhythm. A beat to it that any normal, not attuned person to their existence would've missed entirely, but for Jesse was loud and clear in his head at all times. Because Virgil moved like a smooth dancer to music, his limbs and expression and soul like art when paired with the proper tune, and just slightly off when forced to work with the wrong soundtrack. And the soundtrack to Tommy's life was, well, extensive. Something that Jesse had learned early, and something, just like everything else, he'd become immediately addicted to.

But Vee was exactly one half of their partnership, even if often Jesse bent and curved to allow the Phoenix more room in their relationship. More power. But it was their life. Their companionship that took them from event to event, murder to party. And while Virgil moved to a tune that was perfect, and sweet in Jesse's eyes even when it was violent and obnoxious, and though it had taken years - of which they had many - for Jesse to truly find his pace, he fit into their song as if he'd always been there from the very start. Like maybe his part had only required the volume to be louder. And god, how his own rhythm matched Vee's like a duet written and performed by only the best of musical gods.

So while battling his own subconscious, his own fears and god, his pleasure that the moment provided them, he still found a way to look at the blond straight in the eyes when they stared back, challenging almost, but still ever prepared to switch to whatever song was to actually take over their moment in that brutally small car. Part of him, sadly, prepared for it to rip the magic of the moment away from them. To bring reality pounding down on him with a brutal force that he couldn’t actually blame Tommy for. So to say that Jesse was surprised when the soft music hit his ears would've been an understatement, but he didn't let this surprise show. He slipped into his part as naturally as he breathed, albeit little rougher now that the other mans chest was flesh against his.

He didn't have words for Virgil, and nothing more than appreciative murmurs that could've been taken as soft, careful moans left him as the phoenix came back in for that kiss. Jesse welcomed it warmly, almost eagerly, his teeth grazing against Vee's bottom lip like he was trying to pull him closer using only his mouth, his hot breath, and his need for this shared moment. "Way better." He agreed, without really letting his lips leave Tommy's face, though they brushed against his chin as he tried to press his forehead against him for a brief moment when he paused to take it all in. Because he had to take it all in, and he had to pause as to not miss his chance.

Something in his mind urged him to do it, and it felt important. He wanted to take in their flesh together, their paired canvas of battle scars and memories, and Virgil's own marred in such a way that you wouldn't be able to believe that his skin had been born anew as many times as it had with how it matched Jesse's own. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he exhaled carefully, as so his chest didn't decompress suddenly or all at once, and when he opened them again he could count in questionable accuracy the freckles across Tommy's nose. He smiled, though his lips were still too distracted to really obey the command.

A hand found it's way behind Tommy's neck, pulling, but only just, him closer as he arched his body upward to meet him as much as the space of the car would allow, and for a moment it was difficult to keep himself in check. Breathe, he told himself, a reminder that this could change at any moment, or worse, it could've all been in his head, a day dream brought on by - what? It wasn't that he'd been drinking enough to pass out, and even if he had it wouldn't have brought with it such intoxicating imagination. So he breathed. Fingers caressed against the other mans skin on finger tips, like he was afraid to grasp him fully, and his lips parted instinctively, his tongue coming to wet them in a way that would've been innocent if Tommy's own hadn't been so close.

And he breathed more then, too, though it shook slightly, wavering.

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VIRGIL THOMAS ANTONY ASHCROFT
Posted: May 18 2014, 12:27 AM


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JESSE JOSEPH ABEL
Posted: May 18 2014, 09:01 AM


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Group: HUMAN IMMORTAL
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Member No.: 308
Joined: 2-December 13



The first time Virgil tried to talk into their kisses he only smirked right back into him, the kiss becoming rougher for a moment as he had to pull himself back from that edge of cockiness that he was fairly certain Tommy himself flung himself over on a near hourly basis when he’d been drinking and smoking and doing any other number of things that the phoenix did to make him, well, him. Things that normally would’ve killed anyone else – and surely would’ve killed Jesse, even as an immortal, if he’d dared to keep up. There had been times Jesse had wondered what would’ve killed the man first if he hadn’t been a phoenix, but always got caught up in those boy-hood memories of his that were surely tainted by the way you remembered things when you were younger. Everything larger, everything more impressive.

Or maybe Virgil had just always actually been that way. Regardless, his mind could never come to an actual answer. Would the drinking and drugs have killed a human body before bullets and knives and everything else had if not for the healing factor, or would Vee just be one of those people that was somehow more invincible than the rest of the population?

The second time he tried to carry on a conversation, however, Jesse’s brows pulled in slightly. It wasn’t that he’d ever been taught, exactly, but he suspected the answer of you, you great big idiot, shut up wasn’t what Virgil had been looking for. And he suspected even more so that saying so would’ve been a great way to stop the kissing that he seemed to be so impressed with. But when it came right down to it, it was just one of those things, a part of Jesse that had only become Jesse because of the phoenix. A part of him that had flourished under the other mans influences. And, yeah, that made things fucked up – but it also meant that everything between them was like a personally conducted and written ceremony. H

e wasn’t this way with anyone else. In part because he didn’t want to be. And he wouldn’t be this way with anyone else. Because anyone else wasn’t Virgil; and maybe explaining something like that was too complicated for them both. Vee drunk and high on all the things that normally got him, and Jesse buzzed on booze, high on life, utterly smashed on the way Vee’s lips rested on his.

"I hate your car so much right now,"

Normally, normally Tommy would’ve been punched or tackled or smacked upside his head for such a comment. With a beer bottle. But nothing about this was normal circumstances, And Jesse found himself squirming for more space as much as Tommy was - only doing so with less complaint – and in return he got a murmur of agreement. Still, a little defensive, and a little roughly, and almost a little irritated he replied: “Shut up, Vee.”. Not because of the car, but because he didn’t like the interruptions, and sometimes – albeit rarely – Jesse had the situation enough in his hands that he could put the other man into place. He caught Virgil’s lips between his teeth and tugged, not gently this time, him back into him.

Fingertips digging into flesh, palm daring to meet flesh, as he forced their bodies to press hard together as he sat up into Tommy, his knees digging into the small of his back, the hand from his neck now routing around uncomfortably and with what would’ve normally been considered minimal effort but with the weight of one naughtiest elf became a challenge for a switch under the seat. He found it, finally, and with a grunt of exertion the seat plummeted backward in a quick jolt. It only threw Jesse off course for a moment, as he grinned up at Virgil, his hands coming to the phoenix’s hips for a moment to steady and hold him while he readjusted on the now reclined front seat, putting more space between Tommy and the steering wheel, giving Jesse more space to stretch and move his legs.

But the space and time for readjustment only lasted a few seconds before he was pulling Tommy closer with arms, pushing him forward with his legs every bit welcoming him in with the way his lips curved only slightly but breathed out hot air that needed to be shared. “Better, princess?” he asked, joking and pushing buttons only because as sweet as soft was, as nice as it was to feel that careful mixture of him and Tommy, nothing between the boys was ever so subtle and gentle, and Jesse craved the push and pull of power between them. The challenge of lovers that these moments so rarely got to embrace before Virgil was pulling away and brushing the experience off. It was a risk to want it, a risk to ask for it, but his body shook and ached for it. He couldn’t anymore ignore that need than he could part himself from Tommy’s side.

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VIRGIL THOMAS ANTONY ASHCROFT
Posted: May 18 2014, 01:52 PM


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Joined: 1-December 13



Virgil smirked with drunken faux-shock, pulling away from Jesse's lips for a moment to play out his astonishment at having been told to shut up. Jesse wasn't having any of it though, and he pursued Virgil's lips like they were his, pulling Tommy back to him with his teeth. It was too much, it was his soft spot, the thing that drove him stupid crazy, the thing that made him make horrible decisions. When Jesse started to get grabby, Virgil had a really, really hard time making rational decisions.

Their dynamic was already perfect the way it was, they were partners, brothers, best friends, idiots, whatever... but outside of that, there were times when Jesse would pick up Virgil's pieces. There were times when Jesse would just fix Vee up and then put him back in his place. He could knock him down just a little, make him humble, fish him out of emotional snares when Tommy was just being stubborn. As long as it wasn't about business or ruining their fun, Tommy loved it when Jesse fought back. Not that they didn't fight all the time about normal stuff, not that they didn't argue about liquor brands or girls or drugs or which side of the room who slept on, not that they didn't fight about wet towels and dirty socks in irritating places after nights of drunken revelry, but there was something delicious about Jesse, kissing him, biting him, and telling him to shut up.

The music was low and enticing, and though, as the chair lurched back, the drop surprised Tommy, he was enchanted when Jesse stretched out beneath him. Virgil had seen Jess do this a thousand times, had memorized the way that Jesse liked to move when he stretched out, but he hadn't seen it so often from this perspective. And while Tommy was this wasted, hovering against Jesse's familiar smelling skin, it was somehow so nostalgic and adorable-- and yet... it was terrifying too.

He couldn't explain how important this moment felt, and it seemed stupid to try and quantify it, because it was too much to feel all at once. He wondered if women loved like this-- if that's what made them so crazy and complicated. He thought about past girlfriends, and he thought about how high he was and how fast his heart was beating right now... and how good the pressure of Jesse's stomach against his hips felt.

He trembled. sensitive, as the drugs opened up the sensation in his skin, made it feel awake and luminescent even as his eyes began to close. He let Jesse fold him into his chest, relaxing even as he tensed. He understood without knowing that Jesse's question had been in jest, but he could only answer honestly, "I don't think so." He didn't object to the title, just accepted it and assumed it as his for the moment. His mouth was dry, and his heart was in his throat. He licked his lips in an effort to chase away how much they stung when they weren't pressured, tasting how vaguely raw they were now, and thinking about how much he liked the way he looked when his mouth was bruised.

It was like: Virgil could literally put his teeth back into his jaws when he got punched in the face-- so when he was in a real scrap, he usually aimed to take at least one good hit in the mouth before he took the other guy down, for fashion's sake. He wondered, disconnected, if Jesse could be as fun in bed if as he was in a fight. He loved fighting Jess-- Jesus Christ was he really thinking this?

Yes, yes, yes he was totally thinking about this. "Jesse," he said through grit teeth, fighting himself even as his fear wriggled its way free from within-- but Jesse was always gonna be the one he would tell if something was wrong, Jesse was always gonna be the only one that he trusted enough to be honest with. But... He couldn't talk about this. But he needed to. "I feel-" he began, hesitating and then losing every ounce of ability to express himself with words. He felt like an idiot starting a sentence with I feel-- because it was weird, because it wasn't right; wasn't them. Talking about feelings was like, a stage routine that Virgil made up for girlfriends! And yet, here they were. He supposed it was reflexive, by now. If he had any intention of getting into bed with somebody, a woman, he'd have flipped on the boy with the heart of a french poet by now. That was his default when he was with a woman, this personality that manifested as a sort of Westly-post-Dread-Pirate-Roberts-in-modern-times. It was a fan-favorite, but he'd never really used it on Jesse like he almost just had. Or, at least, he didn't remember doing anything like that.

I'm using it on Jesse? He heard his thoughts asking, even as he announced the fact to himself in deeper, sleepier regions of consciousness. Oh my God, I am.

All this shaking, all this monstrous adoration: he had stage fright. He wanted to just... slap himself a couple times because Tommy didn't do stage-fright. Ever. And also, worse, this meant that he had to admit that he was scared. That he was scared but also d breathless and excited -- and horrified that he was forgetting his lines. Still, words or not, he felt intoxicated by the scene set; Intoxicated by Jesse, his all-time partner in crime; Intoxicated by their perversity. Forgoing words for a moment, Tommy simply took one of Jesse's wrists in his grasp and pressed Jesse's hand to the inside of his nearest thigh. He wanted to say something appropriate and confident, something reciprocal that would equalize his pride, but he couldn't. "Gettin a little dizzy," he said, dropping his head to the side of Jesse's face. And then, because they were there, he kissed Jesse's ear and jaw gently, several times, before whispering, "You're making me dizzy."

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JESSE JOSEPH ABEL
Posted: Jun 8 2014, 07:15 PM


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Member No.: 308
Joined: 2-December 13



His breath caught in his throat, painfully, he noted, but was too distracted to actually feel. The words that dripped from Vee’s mouth didn’t seem like his own – and more to the point, the man on top of him didn’t seem like Tommy in the way that he usually was – like somehow they had been transported to a different part of themselves that they never actually allowed themselves to be. Like they had been torn into pieces, one that was honest and open and capable of being in this sort of situation, and another version – their normal version – that kept their feelings bolted up and buried under drugs, booze, and women that didn’t satisfy their need for something more.

If Jesse had allowed himself to take a step back at that moment, rather than going all systems forward, he almost would’ve been able to watch himself and the phoenix, like it wasn’t really happening to him, like it was all a dream or badly shot tv program.

I feel… he had started, and nothing had scared Jesse so much in his life. It wasn’t that Virgil didn’t feel things, in fact, if you had asked Jesse he would’ve said that no one on God’s green earth was more capable of being a human (or not so human) emoticon the way that Virgil was. The man was capable of all the feelings, and often showed them in their extreme states, nothing held back, but showing them and talking about them were too completely different things. Just because you had the feeling didn’t mean you acknowledged it, and this was the type of logic that the young Jesse had picked up from Tommy without even having to be told. It was the silent promise between them.

That they would be there for anything, for everything, but they would keep their goddamn mouths shut about it.

Jesse, if anyone, was going to be the one to break this law. And had, of course, a few times in their eternity that even to this day he regretted, like guilt still ate away at his stomach because of it.

And Vee – well. Vee didn’t need to talk about how he felt. Jesse could read him like a book (not that he had much time for casual reading, much to his regret. Though if he did read books, he would’ve much rather read Tommy anyway.) And much in the same direction, one of the few things that was entirely equal among the boys, Jesse thought – or maybe he simply hoped – that Tommy could read him as well, and that was why the words I feel never left their mouths, even when there was alcohol on their breath and opium in their veins. Feelings, Jesse had always felt – at least with Tommy – we’re that scared sort of topic. Like family was for him. You didn’t acknowledge it, you didn’t push it – not because you were necessarily afraid of it, but because it was uncomfortable, out of the norm. Something that you had avoided for so long you weren’t sure how to even broach the subject.

Somehow, Vee bringing it up now, while terrifying, made Jesse want to kiss him all the more. Like he wanted to pass along the courage to find his words with kisses, like he could pull the truth out of the phoenix with them. Like, somehow, all they needed, all they ever needed was kisses to give them everything they’d ever needed. Everything they wanted.

And god, what was he thinking?

He didn’t kiss him though, he waited, pulling back a little even, to study the mans eyes. Because as much as Jesse prided himself on knowing Tommy, this version of him was a mystery, and the intoxication from him was making his head… fuzzy, heavy, foggy in all the best ways he could have ever imagined. He didn’t realize it at first, but Tommy had grabbed his hand and placed it on his inner thigh, and Jesse had reflectively ran his thumb over the area like he needed to study it. Needed to know it, because he needed to know this version of Vee as much as he knew every other version of him, and then his fingers were gripping, gently, because he was running out of time, and god – what if he never had this chance again?

But he grinned, and breathed out onto Tommy’s closeness. “And you leave me breathless, its fair game.” he teased, his teeth scraping along the other mans neck as he came in close to kiss his ear and jaw, and finally biting down in a playful, but needy, nibble. But then like it all sunk in, like he actually needed to worry, a hand came up to spread across his chest, as if to steady the phoenix. “Are you… okay?” he asked finally, barely above a whisper, because all at once he regretted asking it. It sounded stupid on his breath, childish somehow, and he feared the answer. What if the answer was no, what if…

What if he lost this? And everything, everything that came along with it?

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VIRGIL THOMAS ANTONY ASHCROFT
Posted: Jun 14 2014, 05:37 PM


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Joined: 1-December 13



Virgil still remembered, strangely, the first time Jesse had ever asked him if he was okay. He did it so rarely, perhaps, that Virgil still remembered, in the fragments of his long, disjointed memory the exact things Jesse had said, in order, the first time Virgil had died. It had started with "Are you okay?" and had rapidly devolved, but Virgil had already lost consciousness and couldn't remember anything for several minutes before and after the burn. Though it was not a direct result of this incident, Virgil hated when people asked him if he was okay.

His logic, subtle and metaphorical even to him, was that very little was not "okay" with Virgil, and in order to be not "okay" he'd have had to fuck up somewhere pretty bad. When humans asked him questions like "was he okay," Virgil wanted to start raving like the actual 150 year old man he really was, shaking his fist and hitting people in the ass with his cane while he yelled about the war. "Do you even know what not okay actually is like you suburban yuppies?" he wanted to yell, even to himself sometimes in this modern era of leisurely addictions. People asking him if he was okay made him want to tell lengthy stories about working in a mine in Colorado in 1889. It made him want to talk about being a cowboy, made him want to talk about being an outlaw, wanted to talk about the Pinkertons and about being a boxer while he got his strings pulled by the mob. It made him want to talk about getting into fights with some Hell's Angels, made him want to talk about how WWI and WWII had been 30 year conflicts and what it felt like to be covered in mustard gas, what it felt like to get filled with shrapnel from a mine on a beach in France.

What it felt like to outlive people you had loved as though they were pets. What it felt like to die. Knowing, in himself, that these were all things that irrevocably composed his existence at this point, when somebody asked him if he was okay he either got really pissed or really scared. Right now he was a little of both, and he expressed it as irritability. Like, how dare you fucking ask me if I'm okay, irritability. People who weren't okay had lost control; it was just a fact. If you'd lost control of your stomach, you weren't okay. If you'd lost control of your skin's water tight qualities and were bleeding to death, you weren't okay. If you couldn't see, you weren't okay. You go to the doctor when you cant control your qualities. That's why surgeries, particularly for your eyes, are all called corrections. Metaphorically, Virgil figured that everything else worked that way too.

So when Jesse asked him if he was okay, Virgil grew slightly ridged, the way animals did when they bowed their heads to growl. He was questioning Virgil's ability to control himself then, asking him, in a delicate, humiliating, female way, what's wrong with you?

He wanted to slam his knuckles into Jesse's shoulders like a petulant teenager and shout, "Nothing's fucking wrong with me!" and he wanted to scream because he was sure that something actually was. He didn't need to be questioned or second guessed on his behavior, he didn't need concern, he didn't need Jesse following him around like a puppy, making horrifying deals with devils either.

His face felt hot with shame and liquor, but the opium and the weed kept him lethargic and rawly sweet. With a theatrical frown of betrayal, Virgil simply slipped off Jesse's lap and back into his own seat, giving Jesse one last childish glare before he started pouting out the passenger window at the snow again. Nothing's wrong with me, you fucker, he thought, petulantly, the whole exchange having taken only a single second since the words slipped from Jesse's kiss-bruising lips. It was just a joke, Virgil told himself, and then, defensively changed the subject within his head in an attempt to calm the heat in his neck and cheeks.

"Yeah. So. It was a pretty fucking terrible movie. The lady's breast enlargements were just propped on top of her real boobs and they ended up looking like stacked water balloons of varying sizes." Virgil wanted to get out of the car pretty bad, but was maybe too embarrassed to have to wrestle awkwardly with getting his coat back, so he debated escaping without it. Then he started debating what it would look like if he just ran out of the car like a tit into the snow, and tried to figure out the best way to drunkenly save face.



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JESSE JOSEPH ABEL
Posted: Jun 19 2014, 08:51 PM


WANDERER - PLAYED BY BEAR
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Group: HUMAN IMMORTAL
Posts: 30
Member No.: 308
Joined: 2-December 13



Jesse had known it was a stupid thing to ask, knew it was going to get him nowhere he wanted to be by saying it – but it was just one of those things, like so many things, that had escaped him and he couldn’t take it back no matter how hard he’d wished it. This was the difficult truth in Jesse’s life, while there were things that were absolutely in his control – like his mortality, he’d learned – Vee’s temperament was not one of them. To some extent, he appreciated this, respected and admired it – but then there were times like this when it hurt him, burned him, and there was no escaping the phoenix’s emotions. Not when he was as close to the man as he was, both figuratively and symbolically. Everything about his facial expression, for just one moment, was pained. Like a wince that he wanted to hiss in and let out, but could’ve give up even that.

Still, regardless that he knew it would do nothing, Jesse silently prayed he could take it back. Wished, begged, practically cried on the inside for that rewind button that he wouldn’t ever get, and instead was forced to just let out his breath hot and heavy like he could remove all his emotions as easily as he could rid himself of air. He didn’t want Tommy to know that he wished for such a thing, worse, prayed for such a thing like he believed in a God when they did the things they did and lived the life they did. Because, honestly, who the hell was he praying to? Even if there was a God – or someone, something listening to the petty wishes of him of all people – he didn’t deserve any wishes, not today, and not since the day he’d decided to trade a thousand souls of innocent – or innocent enough people – for his own immortality.

But he’d cursed himself for Virgil. He’d given everything for the phoenix because he felt like he had to, like he could see into the future from the very first day he’d met the man and knew that he wouldn’t ever be able to take a life on his lonesome. Like he’d someone known – even back then – when he was small and weak and pathetic that the phoenix wasn’t human, like he was too big for his skin, and therefore would need someone by his side to live his life with. Someone that wouldn’t leave him like everyone else, someone who couldn’t leave him the way that everyone else could. Jesse had volunteered to be that person, had done so willingly, and gladly, and now – times like this? – this is when it paid for it. Paid for it in a pain he had to keep to himself, locked away and silent because he didn’t want to be weak again in Tommy’s eyes. Not again, not ever.

Because Vee wasn’t supposed to be his big brother, though he’d taken on that role from the very first, and Jesse had always wanted so much more, anyway.

Maybe he was greedy, he thought, for just a moment before he was straightening the look on his face and looking over at Tommy, licking his lips quickly, like he needed to remove the taste of Vee from them – remove, or savior.

“Yeah, sounds… awful, Vee. Terrible. But you watched it to the very last I bet, right?” He shifted uncomfortably, but there wasn’t really anyway to hide how turned on he was or how badly he needed to breathe some air that didn’t smell like goddamn Tommy. Still, he didn’t bother correcting the seat, and instead sat up, crossing his legs and sitting with his ass mostly on the back of the chair in its vertical position like it was an uncomfortable, awkward bench. He could feel how badly Vee wanted out of there, but he couldn’t bring himself to just leave first, making it that easy. He swallowed, looking at his hands and feeling like he was thirteen years old all over again and trying to ask the very first girl he’d ever kissed if they could hold hands and then take their tops off together. He felt small.

“Tommy…” he started, shaking his head a small bit at himself, because he had no idea where he was going. He’d lost it all, lost his land line, even, and he wasn’t used to the feeling of abandonment. Especially not when they were so close by proximity.

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VIRGIL THOMAS ANTONY ASHCROFT
Posted: Jun 20 2014, 11:43 PM


WANDERER - PLAYED BY LIZ
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Group: PHOENIX
Posts: 94
Member No.: 305
Joined: 1-December 13



"What else was I gonna do?" Virgil muttered, still brooding out the window like a teenager. Shame was flitting over his skin in waves of heat, aided by the alcohol, and he realized he still felt dizzy. Still, drunk or not, he wasn't drunk enough to wash away his inhibitions. He started looking around the car for another bottle or a roach or something to aid his attempts at oblivion. He was careful not to look at Jesse while he hunted, but tried to make it look like he wasn't avoiding his eyes either, though he obviously was.

While he fiddled clumsily with the various nothings in the car, he continued to debate escape, not, perhaps, from the car anymore, but from his embarrassment, which was one of the only things he was really afraid of. He didn't like being wrong, he didn't like making mistakes, and even after 150 years of fucking up now and again, he simply wasn't built to handle it emotionally. It wasn't like he'd ever tried to make progress with it either, because it was his general policy not to make mistakes in the first place. He didn't accept being wrong now and then, which was part of the human condition, because he wasn't human. He was something bigger, something better and nobody had the right to look down on him.

But they would if he kept giving them reasons to. His solution to this problem, however, was not to improve his behavior, but to attempt to forget that he had ever faltered in his blazing perfection. He knew what he was, what his breed had meant to mankind. They had called his kind sun gods once, and though he was content to be relegated into the rust of myth, he knew that he had been born with something to live up to. He didn't care about the order, he didn't need them to mold him into something smaller and tamer than he was. He had been born to burn, to run wild like a fire, to hurt things, to consume them, to be reborn and renewed and greater and he could not stand feeling small.

It made him sick, and today, he was associating that with Jesse. Jesse's question had made him feel childish and wrong and sick and human. He looked up at Jesse, finally, his face contorted with illness, and then he opened the door and threw up into the parking lot.






can this be done? I don't want to drag this out anymore, it's miserable.


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