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deathisanartmetzli · 1 year

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TIMING: The 13th Hour

SUMMARY: Metzli runs to the center of the town and completes the ritual to stop the chaos from reaching the rest of the world.

CONTAINS: Death

Living an ingrown life was never easy. The fact of that is constantly ignored solely for the benefit of never having to take the risk of connection. Decades of solitude and a firm belief that meaning nothing and having nothing meant happiness was something Metzli held onto like it was their lifeline.

Maybe it was.

As their car jerked and hammered against the jagged road and raced against the hurricane winds, Metzli thought about it all. The beginning and how they got themself into such a predicament. Just two years ago, they would’ve left the moment they heard the town was a goner. But there they were, driving toward Vorhees Tower so they could give their life so everyone else could live. The irony of that was not lost on them, prompting a dry chuckle, their hand tensing on the steering wheel, and a roll of their eyes. As they did, their ending point was on the clock. Twenty minutes left.

So, yeah, that old belief was their lifeline. It would’ve kept them alive if they still held it. Back then, they avoided the risk of having anything. Like asking for someone’s hand in marriage. Now that ring would go left unused. That was unless Eilidh wore it like they asked in their letter. The very thought made their heart ache but they wouldn’t alter a thing because everything was so different. Their mind had changed from believing a life long lived alone was supposed to be better than one lived too short with company. They were proven wrong, and they were so glad they gave that gallery tour a chance. If not for that small, tiny decision, they wouldn’t have realized the beauty of loving. They loved many and they loved hard all thanks to that seemingly insignificant choice, and to their surprise, they smiled.

It replayed over and over again in Metzli’s mind, and they supposed it was true then. Your life really did replay for your viewing and heartbreaking pleasure when you were about to meet your maker. They scoffed out a chuckle and it quickly turned into a small, choked sob while their anxiety ticked like the watch on their wrist. Sixteen minutes left.

Tears streamed down like a heavy rain, and despite that visible vulnerability, a smile began to ease its way to Metzli’s lips. That tug remained there even as the car could no longer continue and they had to move by foot. The car boomed and screeched to a halt, and they leapt and they climbed and they didn’t stop. There was no time to hit the breaks even when they tripped over a sudden burst or crack of earth.

“Come on, Metzli. Come on!” They chastised themself quietly, tumbling and rolling back to their feet as they checked their watch and listened for the tolling bell. Twelve minutes left.

At the sight of the clocktower, they picked up the pace, encouraging their legs to comply with the urgency of the situation, of the end. They were so close to it that it nearly gave them pause. Nearly. Metzli didn’t let their hesitation get the better of them, and before they knew it, they were only a half-breadth away from their destination.

A tired smile painted on their face and they sighed, a hint of a tremble attaching itself at the end. Their fear got to settle then. They were going to die and being engulfed in the darkness that reigned over most of their life made their knees buckle. An infinite void to fall into was not the most ideal exit, but it was one they would face time and time again for the people they loved. To honor everyone that sacrificed everything only hours before them. "Made it.” They sighed, “Anything for you guys.” They muttered to no one, as everyone was long gone and unable to hear. “Anything, always.” Placing a shaky hand to their chest, Metzli could’ve sworn it beat for a second. If anyone could cause such a thing, it was definitely their loved ones. They sniffled and shook their head, taking their time now that they had it. Eight minutes left.

As Metzli stepped into the center of town, the tremors grew. Like each step was akin to a notch on a dial. Death was such a finite thing. An end and a beginning in its own right, but the slate would be clean. They’d have no recollection of what they were at that moment and what they had lined up. There was so much left to do, but there was also so much they had already done. In a short amount of time, Metzli had created a family from dust. The dusted pile of their master that had been decidedly the moment they truly began to live. No more running. No more torture. No more isolation.

“Wow.” Metzli said with soot and dirt streaked across their face. The tears created a multitude of trails, making them look like a soldier set out for war. In a way, they were. They were fighting against the biggest tantrum White Crest had ever thrown, but they could say with confidence that it would end there, never reaching the rest of the world. Swallowing, Metzli took a seat in the rubble and looked up. The sky was a shade of gray that practically felt as dark as Metzli felt, and they decided to lay down, fully resigning themself to their final decision. Three minutes left.

The tremors grew with an intensity that startled Metzli. For the first time in a long time, they screamed in fear. Like they were a teenager in a haunted house they regretted paying good money for. Then, for some reason, they laughed. In desperation, in terror, in anxious anticipation? Who knows. Certainly not them. Maybe they didn’t want to sound scared. Maybe they wanted to find a battlecry appropriate for such a roaring ending. So, they roared with laughter. They became a daydreamer and turned the gray sky every other color, on cloudless days.

Like the dusks they spent with Eilidh planting the garden, painting the land with an array of color that spelled out their love for all to see, leaving a big, gapped-tooth smile on her face that they adored.

Like the mornings they spent walking to the gallery, a new sweet treat for Aylin in their bag and coffee struggling in one hand for Abigail and Ceyda, who were somehow always there before them even though they didn’t even sleep.

Like the afternoons spent under the shade of trees to train Cass to land heavy-handed blows and Muhammad-Ali combos that would give monsters who dared to underestimate her pause.

Like the dawns they spent with Teddy watching movies and helping him reconsider the way he coped with the helplessness he took with him from childhood. Watch his relationship with Emilio bloom.

Like the nights they would try to sneak into the lighthouse to scare Correy just because they loved to annoy him. He caught them every damn time, and threw them over to the side, only for them to head on to see Marina.

Like every day they spent existing and living the life they were told they would never have.

“In your fucking faces,” Metzli muttered under their breath with the biggest shit-eating grin.

Zero minutes left.

They closed their eyes and controlled when the darkness took over, and they weren’t scared anymore. How could they be when everyone they loved was so good at fighting their monsters? They defeated the one Metzli used to be, after all. Their amazing family paved the way to the person they were always meant to be. With renewed enthusiasm, Metzli outstretched their arms and felt themself sink. A painful heat enveloped their whole body, but they didn’t scream. They laughed with pure joy, and didn’t dare open their eyes so as not to taint the last beautiful images of the family they made. Not even the earth-shattering and ending splits of White Crest could be heard over their battlecry as everything dissipated.

What a way to go out, Metzli thought. It may have been an ending that was too early, but it helped, if only a little, that their life ended outside of the darkness that plagued their beginning. Eilidh, the first and only love of their life, would be okay. Cass and Teddy would be okay. Aylin and Ceyda would be okay. Nicole would carry on their newfound traditions with Leah, and Vic would move with Rosie and find Eilidh, and…be okay.

Everyone would be okay. The statement became a chant parallel to the bell in Metzli’s head, and they found themself able to relax and let go, finding peace in the midst of so much chaos.

A light broke through the black behind their eyes as their final moments trickled near, and they sighed a goodbye. All there was left to do for that little light, from then until forever, was to grow.

And it was all yellow.

#wickedswriting #writings #words in blood #yellow #solo #goodbye metzli #wickedsend

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deathisanartmetzli · 2 years

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TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @deathisanartmetzli @attysullivan

SUMMARY: Metzli goes to Portia for help coordinating a will, and the two are interrupted by time altering.

WARNINGS: Body Horror

Portia had only recently been expanding her practice to deal with non-criminal matters. Wills was certainly one of the areas in this town that was growing in popularity. That was to be expected in a town with a large number of early in life deaths. It made people think about their mortality a bit more than usual. Especially people who may be concerned about what they might be leaving behind. Portia fully understood why her new client was worried about how their non-blood related loved ones might be impacted in the event of their untimely passing. It wasn’t something a lot of people wanted to think about, but it was important to.

Their appointment was later in the day and Portia was running slightly behind schedule. As a result, her office was a bit messy - with case papers covering the entire surface of her desk. When she heard the knock at the door to her practice, she quickly realized the time and tried to organize herself a bit. After a few seconds of shoving papers into piles, she decided it was good enough and she went to answer the door with a wide and warm smile. “Hi! Come on in. You’re Metzli, right? I’m Portia.”

The day had been unnervingly long, dragging in a way that only served to strengthen the buzz of nerves beneath their skin. Meeting new people was easy and so were most legal matters. But what Metzli was doing meant something huge, something that was supposed to be unachievable thanks to who they had been molded to be. They had done the impossible and made something of themself. And despite their parents lingering close behind them for a few more moments before they retrieved their salt, Metzli felt empowered. Their parents could yell all they wanted. The proof of their abilities and worth were quite literally in their arms as they knocked on the door, organized in a folder so that they could make a will.

Smiling, Metzli greeted Portia with an equally warm smile, with a hint of timidity. “Yes, hello. Nice to meet you, Portia.” Brows rose and fell as they reacted happily to finally meeting the online lawyer they found. She seemed kind and compassionate. Human, too. Probably. They hoped. If she were, that was a plus in their mind. No hoops to jump through and no extra caution they needed to take even though Metzli would likely take it anyway. It was easier to. Living as long as they had, it was just a force of habit. “I brought what you told me to,” They sat down on one of the open chairs and got comfortable, sifting through what they had. “And maybe some extra. I really don’t know what I’m doing. Never thought I’d even get here.” They chuckled, shifting in their seat nervously as they fixed their posture, too stiff and awkward for their upcoming joke. “Had to give an arm for it. Heh, heh…”

Initial client meetings were always the easiest part of the job in Portia’s opinion. Not every lawyer felt that way though. There was a lot of navigation to do when just meeting someone, and legal issues had a tendency to be rather delicate. Admittedly, most of the wills that Portia worked on were for older people in town. Even in a place like White Crest where the mortality rate was staggering, younger people tended to not want to face that part of their fate. Metzli, however, didn’t look like they were much older than she was.

“Sorry the place is a bit of a mess right now.” Portia moved to the other side of the desk, pulling out a blank notepad as she sat down. The joke wasn’t great… but it still made Portia laugh softly. She appreciated people who could make light of the hardships in life. “Don’t even stress about it, really. People think wills are some big scary event because it's a legal document, but really it's a rather simple process.” As she looked over at her new client, Portia tried to size them up without making it obvious that was what she was doing. “So, why don’t we start by you telling me a bit about yourself and what you’re looking for out of a will?”

Metzli shifted in their seat, prepared to give the story they had always given to people they didn’t know they could trust. It was similar to the truth, but by no means the same. “Well, I uh, immigrated here alone from Mexico when I was younger. Mostly spent time homeless and trying to figure out the language and get myself papers. I am—was illegal. I have my paperwork.” Their knee bounced, always hating that fact. It always painted a picture of the type of person they never were, that none of their people were. Stereotypes conjured up from the minds of the ill-hearted and the selfish. The people who made it harder for Metzli to assimilate. And while that was long in the past, the trauma of it still lingered, still made them flinch when it came to people in Portia’s position. One of intellect and power, combining them for either good or evil. Luckily, she seemed like the former.

“But obviously, I’ve made something of myself now and have made my own little family. Believe it or not, dealing with art can be tricky business. It’s a lot of money. Money means power, and power draws in some pretty shitty people. So, I need a will, just in case.” Along with being a vampire that fought deadly creatures at least three times a month, and most everyone they loved were supernatural. Whatever the case though, there was danger, and there was nothing Metzli loved more than being prepared so they could have peace of mind. “Not much to me than that really. I just want to make sure my family is okay. I’ve never had one, so I want to do things right.” Do them in a way their parents never would have. They’d be different. They’d be better. “Is that…too much info?” They tensed, lowering their gaze to avoid Portia’s. “Sorry.”

Portia wasn’t exactly sure why, but based on their seemingly reserved energy she didn’t expect Metzli to give so much detail about their life. It wasn’t uncommon, a lot of people felt nervous telling their story to others. Especially a story with a fair amount of hardships. “I don’t care if you do or don’t have paperwork,” She quickly added. “Not saying I don’t believe you or anything like that. It’s just… none of my business, really. And, more importantly to our considerations, it doesn’t impact your ability to have a will.”

One of the more important aspects of her job, usually, was building a connection with the client. It was more crucial with her criminal clients, however, because she needed to quickly gain their trust and confidence so they’d hopefully be forthcoming with her. Wills was a bit different, but their story felt so compelling, and they had been so honest, that Porta decided to share too. “Not too much at all. I grew up in foster care and group homes, never had any family myself. I saw a lot of good people end up in really bad spots. It’s always nice to see people end up on top after a rough path.” She began jotting down some notes on the paper in front of her: sizeable estate, art business. “So, the best way to think about the will is identifying who you want to leave your assets to. Is it all going to one person? Are personal assets going to one and business assets to another? Or do you want to divide certain percentages of things to a variety of people?”

“Foster care? I’m sorry. That’s…that’s a whole different kind of trauma. Um…” Metzli bit their lip, wondering how much more to disclose before it was too much. They decided to move on though, finding that their past was a little much for anyone, even them. “Life’s crazy. It’s pretty amazing what you’ve made for yourself. I think what happened was more of a motivation ‘cause you don’t want to repeat anything…” They looked out the window, musing aloud with a small smile, “As my partner would say, bear fruit by watering it with the tears of turmoil.” Looking back at Portia, they slouched slightly, digesting just how out of place they truly were even with all the work they had put in.

The folder in Metzli’s hand crumpled as they tightened it into a fist, but they didn’t let their discomfort show in their expression. Portia wasn’t being malicious by any means, and her education was obviously hard-earned. That didn’t stop the insecurity from taking grip of their throat though, making them feel incompetent as different terms were thrown around like they were common. But, Metzli didn’t want to shift the meeting negatively, so they took a steadying breath and focused on the similarities Portia seemed to have with them. She was an ally, not an enemy, and she knew what it was like to pick herself up despite the crushing weight of pain. So, they smiled, unfurrowed their brows and sifted through their information.

“My gallery will likely go to my associate, Abigail Varcroft. She is my co-curator and friend. Probably the only person I’d trust with it.” Sifting through the gallery files, Metzli reached the estate papers, and read what they had planned. “For my house, it’s a large property, but I’d like that to be divided between my partner, Ellie Macleod and my little sister, Cassidy Torrence.” They tilted their head side to side, grimacing. “Ellie will likely not accept, but I want her to have a home there regardless. And as for my storage units…” Several papers were taken out and placed in front of Portia, outlining the four units they had. “These contain paintings and special items of mine. Most of the paintings will be displayed in rotation at the gallery, and the special items will be split among Ellie, Cass, Abigail, Correy Owens, Victoria Mossberg, and Regan Kavanagh. I’ve outlined which units each person will sift through, and they can have their pick from there.” They paused, finding a final piece of paper they had worked on for days. Tears welled in their eyes, knowing the contents intimately. “And this is how I want the will to begin when it comes to words from me. I…I heard that was common.”

“That’s a really beautiful sentiment. I tend to agree with your partner… there are certain things we just can’t control.” More things than she had previously even presumed, she was learning. “What we can control is all that matters. That’s where we should spend our energy.” As much as she believed the words, Portia still had trouble accepting exactly what things were out of her control lately. Maybe if she kept thinking it, kept saying it, she’d begin to fully believe it herself.

Portia couldn’t help but notice the shift in posture followed by a small bit of silent tension. It was always curious to her to see how differently people reacted in the same situations. Some people were anxious, others distraught, some content - and nearly everything in between. There was no wrong reaction, however, in Portia’s mind. There was an old law school saying that when people are in need of an attorney they are often at one of the lowest points in their life. That was especially true for her criminal clients, but it carried into the other areas of law too. As Metzli began describing how they wanted their estate apportioned, Portia smiled softly and began taking down notes, making sure to maintain solid eye contact while she did so.

Just as they stopped speaking, Portia was about to ask a few follow up questions when she noticed their expression change yet again. No matter how many tears had fallen in that office - from all sorts of people for all sorts of reasons (including a fair amount of her own) there was always a heaviness that surrounded Portia. And an innate desire to do whatever needed to be done to resolve whatever sadness was being felt. “Yes, of course. And - you don’t have to share those words with me if you don’t want to. Some people write a letter, or letters, to be sealed up and given to or read to your loved ones at the will reading.” It was always in these moments that Portia realized what she didn’t have - someone to write a letter to. “I’m happy to include the language in the will itself too, though. Either way, I’m sure your loved ones would want to hear whatever it is you’ve written.”

All Metzli could do was smile as Portia agreed with them and responded as needed. She seemed to empathize greatly, and the very idea of that made their heart swell. It was a wonderful use of empathy, and the more they saw it in action, the more admiration they had for Portia. She’d had that ability her entire life, and she had honed it into something she could use for good. “I know this is your job, but I’ve gotta say, you’re making this really easy. You’ve got a really nice energy to you. I don’t say that lightly either. I hate most people.” They chuckled and then suddenly swallowed despite the happiness they felt, like there was something ominous blanketing the room.

Heightened senses came in handy in those moments, when the world shifted and others were blind to it. In an instant though, Metzli quickly realized those wouldn’t be needed. Everything skewed visibly, changed and renewed with a life it had far surpassed. In other words, something was happening, just as it always did. “Do you feel that?” Their teeth clenched, a breath hitching in their throat as they watched their suit alter into something they hadn’t seen in decades. It was a time Metzli enjoyed fashion-wise, but that was the only aspect that brought some sort of joy. “Oh fuck. Do you see that? I don’t—this feels weird.” They’d heard of time issues happening with Cass, but never did they expect it to happen to them. At least, they hoped it wouldn’t.

“Don’t give me all the credit here. I know you only brought these lists and such because I asked you to - but you’d be surprised how many people simply… don’t do that. Or don’t think about what they want their will to say at all until they’re sat in that chair.” In all honesty, Portia wished that most of her client meetings went this easily. Over the years she learned how to handle pretty much any type of person who walked through her doors but just because she could reign people in didn’t mean the process wasn’t draining.

Portia had been jotting down a few notes when she heard Metzli’s question - and at nearly the same time she noticed that the ball-point pen that had been in her hand was now a fountain pen. And the subtle humm of the air conditioning system began flickering in and out. “Fuck.” She muttered, only slightly under her breath. Portia was more annoyed than freaked out this time. Which was not the reaction she ever thought she’d have time-traveling for the second time in as many months. Not that she ever thought that would be something that would happen at all. “There’s uh, well I actually cannot explain what is happening in the slightest actually.” As she looked up at Metzli, Portia saw the last remnants of their time period shifting. “Something like this happened to me recently. It didn’t last long.” This certainly wasn’t the same time period - noted by the lack of scratchy tweed outfit and ungodly tight undergarments. “Things were a bit different though. And there was a giant pink bug that I’m hoping doesn't make a repeat appearance.”

“You’ve been through this before?” Metzli’s eyes widened, adjusting themself in their seat as they watched everything transform. Portia looked more annoyed than anything, which was a stark contrast to their reaction. Panic wanted to seep into their nerves, guide them into a blur out of the room, but they knew that would be a poor choice. They got especially bitey when things took a turn like that. Instead, Metzli’s knees bounced rapidly, a quick release for the anxiety that was steadily rising. “Okay,” They began, rising from their seat as they looked down to review their new, or rather, old garments. “If I’m wearing this shit again, we must be in the forties, and I did not have fun then.” They huffed, not caring about what they said. As far as Metzli was concerned, it didn’t really matter that they revealed what they truly were. If Portia had time traveled and seen a giant bug, then she knew about the other side of White Crest, and the more honest the two were with each other, the easier it would be to work together.

Patting their pockets, the only thing that could be found was an empty wallet, cigarettes, a lighter, and a few coins. Metzli grumbled for a few moments, looking around until they reached a window to see the outside world. The sun burned, but they didn’t care. They were too focused on the old cars and then a sudden bang on the door. “What the fuck was that?” Within a few strides, they reached the doorknob and twisted it, whipping the door open to reveal a creature walking around clumsily in the waiting room. A sharp, cold shiver ran down Metzli’s spine as they fell back on their ass with a hard thud. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” They exclaimed, watching as the creature jumped itself but it only screeched and crawled until it met the door. Its flower-like head opened, layering back one by one, showing off sharp and terrifying teeth. Metzli crabbed back awkwardly on one arm, hitting the desk with another loud noise. Much to their relief, the monster didn’t react, seeming to be relatively senseless. Regardless though, they whispered as they stood, training their eyes on the beast while they backed their way to Portia. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”

Portia was trying to figure out the best way to explain what she had been through before. Unfortunately, she honestly didn’t even understand it at all herself. The last time was just as sudden and unexplainable as this time. Before she was able to find the words, however, she heard them say something about being around during the … actual 1940s? That couldn’t be right. “Wait, what do you mean you didn’t have fun then? I was under the impression you hadn’t…” she gestured around to the old-timey outfits and decor, “done this time jumping thing before.”

Her mind was racing with possibilities as to how Metzli could have existed in the 1940s but still look like they were only in their 30s. So much so that when there was a strange rattling at the door it took Portia a few seconds to react. “Wait, No! Don’t open it!” But it was too late. The terror and panic that she should have felt when the world had begun shifting was now hitting her like a ton of bricks. As soon as she laid eyes on that… thing, Portia let out a rather loud scream and without thinking much just instinctively climbed up on top of her desk. “This is so so so much worse than the giant pink bug.” This thing didn’t even have eyes… so her solution of macing her problems wasn’t going to be an option. “That thing is blocking the exit! Where the hell do you suggest we go?!” Portia began looking around the room - not fully sure as to what things would still be nearby to use as a defensive weapon or what their 1940s counterpart would look like.

Taking off their suit jacket, Metzli broke off the long chain attached to their pants, making a plan as they went. “It can’t hear and it can’t see,” They spoke as they wrapped the chain around their fist, backing up with Portia behind them. “And by the looks of it, it can’t smell either. Mira, stay behind me. I…” They bit their lip, extending their fangs and shifting their brown hues to crimson. “I can protect you. You just have to listen to everything I say, okay?” Craning their neck, their right eye caught Portia’s hoping she would agree without resistance. Not that it would make any difference. Checking in was just a formality for Metzli. They’d go after the creature whether Portia wanted them to or not.

Without another word, they surged forward, cocking their fist back and sending it forward. Their fist met the creature’s face with a fleshy thud, throttling it back into the wall with monstrous force. Dead blood oozed between the chain links around their fist, but Metzli didn’t have time to check on it. The creature was screeching and scrambling to get on its feet, letting out a roar from the petals of its face. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” They mumbled to themself, backing up as they watched the being hack and hack until it shot out something from its throat. The substance landed on Metzli with a sizzle, burning through their clothes and onto their skin.

Metzli cried out and fell back, feeling like hell was taking domain over their arm. “Close the door! Close the ducking door!” They pleaded as they struggled to get to a wall to lean on. If they lost their other arm, both Metzli and Portia would be screwed, and they needed to assess as quickly as possible. “I can’t—my arm. It’s burning. I can’t move it. Fuck! Fuck!”

“Holy fucking shit…” Portia said in an almost breathless gasp after she saw fangs appear in her clients mouth. Emilio told her vampires were real, and it wasn’t like she didn’t believe him, but it was an entirely different situation to see one in person than to hear about them. She didn’t have time to think about all of that right then, though. If she was going to be continuously shot back in time and attacked by something that looked like it stepped out of a Guillermo del Toro movie, she was at least thankful that it always seemed to happen with someone more skilled in the supernatural than she was. Though that didn’t make the situation any less terrifying.

Unfortunately, Portia wasn’t really the type to just sit back and let other people take care of things for her. At least not fully. But for the time being, she had no plans on how to handle this situation - so if Metzli felt able to take the lead, she would follow. At first, at least from her vantage point, it seemed like they had a good handle on the creature. At first, anyway. “Why does everything spit stuff at people?!” Though unlike the giant pink bug, this one’s spit seemed to burn rather than harden.

“Close the door. Close the door. Okay, yeah!” Portia had always known that she was good under pressure, but to date most of the pressure she had had to perform under wasn’t so dire. While this was only her second time facing certain death from an unexplainable creature she was pleased to know that she didn’t freeze up even when things were very dire. Quickly, she jumped off of the desk and rushed over to her office door, just as she was about to slam it shut, however, she noticed that the fireplace in the lobby had a rack of tools next to it. Portia reached out and grabbed the iron poker before retreating back into the office and closing the door behind her. The thing must really have been blind and deaf because the whole time she was doing that, it didn’t seem to draw its focus towards her. “Fuck, okay… fuck.” Before Portia could try to think of anything that resembled a plan, she heard that creature slamming up against the door again.

Within a few moments of the door shutting, the nerves in Metzli’s arms slowly activated. Regardless of the pain, they were happy to have feeling back, and they tested their arm’s ability to move. It still had remnants of a burning sensation, but the skin was smooth to the touch. Confusion and worry contorted Metzli’s features and they couldn’t help but take a deep breath. As far as they were concerned, as long as the door kept, they would be fine, but they knew better than anyone that there always needed to be a backup plan. Portia’s poker would suffice in a pinch, but Metzli always preferred their own knives, and when they checked where their holster should’ve been, it was gone. Sucking their teeth, they ignored the thuds as best they could and staggered to their feet, shaking off the residual pain.

“I’m gonna go for round two,” Every step to the door was slow but steady, a wounded predator balancing its spirit within. “If it comes to it, force that rod down its throat. Bet that’ll at least stop that acid shit from coming out again.” A chuckle escaped Metzli, prompting them to place a gentle hand on Portia’s shoulder. She seemed to be holding back her own spiral, and while they couldn’t fix everything, they wanted to at least try. “And don’t worry. Not everything spits. I don’t. I just get real bitey.” They grimaced, remembering how scary that may sound to a human, “Promise I won’t bite you though. I’m a good guy. Watch.”

Metzli ripped the door open once more, timing it with the rhythmic attacks. The monster tackled the vampire, making the two a blur of limbs that sought to win dominance in a fight. Two snarling dogs that couldn’t latch their teeth into skin. One always won though, and a yelp pierced the air—Metzli’s. Their skin ripped away and as a last ditch effort, they pressed their hand into its throat to push its head up. “Do it! Do it!” They urged Portia to do what they’d mentioned before, begging for her fear to not cripple her into freezing.

“Round two? Are you fucking serious?!” Portia’s plan would have been to just hide under the desk until the thing went away. If it couldn’t see, hear, or smell, or … whatever - then how would it be able to find them if they were hiding? But who was she to tell a fucking vampire what to do and what not to do. Intrinsically, she could tell that their comment about biting not spitting wasn’t meant to elicit fear. That didn’t stop her eyes from widening at the comment, however. “That’s not fucking better, you know!” It was an interesting thing to see that most, not all … but most, of the supernatural people she had encountered seemed to have more of an interest in protecting her than harming her.

As soon as her office door flung open, Portia gripped the fire poker a little tighter and prayed that she wasn’t going to have to use it. After all, she was just a person and Metzli was evidently… far more than that. Within seconds, Metzli and this flower-neck creature were going at it with ferocity. As the attack unfolded, Portia noticed the faded wallpaper begin changing back to the soft blue hue of her present-day office setting. What was interesting was that as the physical world began to ficked back and forth between past and present - the monster also flickered in and out of existence.

If she had been thinking clearer, Portia wouldn’t have been so reactive when she heard the vampire call out for assistance. Instead, she took the fireplace poker that was in her hands and quickly lunged forward to shove the makeshift weapon down the creature’s throat. Just as she was making contact, however, the world stopped flickering. It had landed back in modern times but the action was already in motion. The poker flew down and now that there was no creepy monster between them, it went straight down and into Metzli’s leg. “Shit!” Portia called out, thankful that the poker at least didn’t seem to hit bone.

As the volmugger and Metzli fought for the upperhand, the vampire’s attacks hit and missed repeatedly due to time flickering back and forth. It made it impossible to land anything fatal, but maybe that was a good thing for their sake. That was until Portia finally listened to them at the exact moment everything snapped to 2022. Metzli screamed, their nerves going white-hot with the iron—no, it had changed to steel with the shift—whatever! It plunged into their leg and that’s all that the vampire could think about. That’s all they allowed themself to think about knowing that if they listened to Portia’s heartbeat instead of the ringing pain, they’d attack her.

“Just stand back! God! What the fuck!” Grabbing the poker, Metzli held it in place and pushed Portia back for her protection. In the next instant, they ripped out the rod and threw it to the side with a metallic clang. “I…need to…leave.” They utilized a calming breathing pattern in the process of standing despite not needing air, finding the action to be incredibly grounding. It was necessary if they were going to keep their teeth away from Portia’s skin.

“I need to eat or I’ll find you appetizing, and I really don’t want that. I don’t like hurting people.” Limping around the room, Metzli stumbled several times before they got to the door, leaning weakly against the frame for a few breaths to gather enough energy to continue. “ I’m pretty good with control, but I don’t want to risk it. Please be safe going home.” They didn’t say it aloud, but they’d be watching Portia during her trek home to ensure she’d be okay. It was the least they could do to make up for such a shit appointment.

While the panic of having to deal with that horrid monster had begun to fade, it was replaced with the new panic of the fact that Portia had a client laying on the floor bleeding and it was quite literally her fault. As she followed their direction and took a few steps away, she tried to remember where the first-aid kit was in the office. Surprisingly, they hadn’t really had to use it since Porita started working here three years ago.

“No, please, there has to be something I can do to help. You can’t just rush out onto the street with your leg like that…” Admittedly, however, Portia wasn’t even sure how she could help. If Metzli was a human she could just drive them to a hospital… but they definitely were not human. And if pushing to help meant she might get eaten, then it was probably best to let them do whatever it was they needed to do.

As she saw Metzli stumble towards the door, instinctively Portia took a few steps closer, wanting to at least offer her an arm for stability. But she stopped short of actually doing so. As much as she wanted to say there was no part of her that was scared of being near a wounded vampire, she was. Even if just a little. “Don’t worry about me getting home, are you serious? You’re the one who needs to be careful. I have a car here, I can take you somewhere if you need?”

Metzli hated to admit it, but they were struggling, and it’d be hours before they could manage to get themself home, especially with the sun still out. They wondered if it was worth risking Portia’s life to get a ride home before blinking at a possible idea. “If you’re sure, the gallery is nearby. I have food there and it’d be a hell of a lot faster to drive than walk.” Even less of a chance at finding a stranger delicious, and they were positive they’d have enough control to last a short car ride.

Regardless, they sifted through their pocket and retrieved a precaution for Portia. “If you get worried at all or if I snap at you, this’ll stop me.” Metzli handed over a small vial carefully, taking a few steps back when the sound of Portia’s heart began to echo in their ears. Their fangs ached to extend, but they took a steadying breath, and regained their composure to speak again as they limped toward the exit. “It’s holy water. Burns me really bad, but don’t worry about that. I just want you to be safe, okay?”

“Wouldn’t’ve offered if I wasn’t sure.” Well, Portia was mostly sure anyway. She’s already been in a car with a bleeding mara and a frightened fae before, might as well go for the trifecta and add a vampire to the mix. “The side door will get us to my car quicker.” While that was true, Portia couldn’t deny that part of her desire to use the back door was to avoid people seeing her assist a bleeding client out of her office. Portia really didn’t need people talking about that.

Portia took the small vial from them, examining it and wondering if it was, as Hollywood movies might suggest, holy water.

Then, doubling down on her efforts to help, Portia offered her arm out to Metzli as assistance in getting over to the side door. The office wasn’t all that big, so it wasn’t too far away, but it was clear that they were struggling. Instead of taking it, however, they stepped further away from her. So instead she just gripped the vial and made her way over to the side door. “So, you just walk around with a little bottle of something that will burn you?” It honestly spoke volumes about them as a person. As they approached the side door, she pulled her keys out of her car. “It might be more comfortable for you to lay down in the back seat?” Portia opened the back door before getting in the driver's side and turned the car on, waiting for Metzli to make their way over. “Just over to the gallery, right?”

“There are more things like me out there that aren’t so nice, and situations like these happen far more often than you think, so it’s just safer.” Metzli groaned as they plopped into the backseat, sighing as the relief washed over them. They’d be both out of harm’s way, and out of being that harm soon enough. “Got a wooden stake too, but I’d prefer you didn’t kill me.” Chuckling, they nodded, getting a little more comfortable. “Yeah, the gallery. Should be about ten minutes.” They closed their eyes and let the sound of the engine overtake their hearing, and the smell of the holy water deter any of their predatory desires. There would be no biting, and they were grateful there’d be no dying either. For either of them.

#wickedswriting #writings #words in blood #a willing accomplice #metzli and portia #body horror tw

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