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Averly Amoret

Murky blue eyes scoured the poorly lit pub, a cigarette dangling from between her finger tips. It wasn’t frequent that Averly opted to partake in frivolous activities, such as being a patron at a rundown drinkery. Being around people was not usually something she enjoyed. However, since arriving in town she had grown rather tiresome of her one bedroom flat. Hence, she found herself balancing on the torn leather of a bar stool.

Her untidy blonde mane was swept up in a half up-half down hair style, accentuating her heart shaped face. Averly’s full lips were painted with a champagne color that complimented her sun-kissed skin, a color she was lucky to find having little knowledge about cosmetics. Those thunderous blues were outlined with kohl, with a mastered point, that delicately flared up from her lashes, nearly matching the sharp expression she maintained on her alluring face.   

Raising the lit coffin nail to her lips, taking a drag before slowly exhaling, savoring the burn in the back of her throat. It was as she was lost in deep thought that she suddenly heard shouting coming from behind her, two men had stood from where they had been nestled at a table with their group. Their expressions she knew had once been filled with laughter, now turned red and vexed. It wasn’t long before the two men grabbed each other by the shoulder and began shoving, their massive bodies reminding her of two bears upright and snapping at each other’s necks. It was with a great push in her direction that Ave became anxious, unsure where this fight was escalating to.

'Was there such thing as security at this run of the mill pub?' The thought only had the chance to cross her mind before she was knocked out of her chair by one of the men, the second jumping atop the both herself and the man who fell on top of her.   

Averly momentarily struggled beneath the weight of the first man, his baseball cap now a nuisance behind her own head. She had almost wriggled herself free when the mortal who had initiated the fight missed the man blocking her safety and hit her square in the jaw. The world spun, the floor racing towards her as she fell back down onto the hard cement. The impact echoing through her head, blood filling her mouth, coating her tongue in its sticky iron-rich taste. Heat filled her veins, blood rushing to tint her cheeks with crimson color. It was the fire in her eyes that she felt most clearly, whilst placing invisible daggers on the backs of both men. She was out for blood. 

February 12, 2019 09:12 pm

Gray Taylor

Four men sit at a table. Jokes are passed around; cunning, dirty little rhymes and critical judgments that are so harsh they can only be laughed at. Gray Taylor sits among them, tie loose around his neck and Manhattan in hand. A cigarette hangs lazily from his lips, and he looks for all the world normal. He's not.

He'd learned in the past several weeks that it is up to him to make it all less tedious, and more enjoyable. Where there once were contracts and battles of wits, there is now something else entirely. Gray has accepted who he is, and is using it.

David sits to his right at the round table, leaning back in his chair and assuming a particularly chummy position with the wayward Reaper. To his right, across from Gray, David's longtime friend Jerry. And then, to the left of Gray, a man whose name has yet to be caught. He'd joined them after hearing the chatter between them, taking up a place in the conversation.

It had been allowed.

The conversation turned quickly, flipping from one topic to another but always seeming to circle back to the start. Typical. Misogynistic. Not at all Gray's style, but he does what he must. It is all part of the game.

Soon, at the table, Jerry and the nameless, hapless fool erupt into an argument instigated by yours truly. Gray stirred the pot and supplied drinks until he had everyone right where he wanted them, causing the house of cards to fall as the two men rise from their seats in a shouting match that quickly escalates.

As they go crashing off, no one would notice Gray and David. They would not see the knife that plunges into David's side, or the way Gray twists it. None would witness as it is pulled from the man's side, or he way the handsome businessman grins that Cheshire grin and wipes clean the hilt. He would merely glance toward the chaos as he stands, beginning his journey toward the only exit from the establishment.

But then, there is that girl.

Gray shakes his head minutely, making the executive decision to do what he must: leave. And yet, when he reaches the door, he pauses. A groan would escape him as he turns and stalks back into the chaos, putting himself on the line carelessly for the sake of a stranger.

"Come on," he would grunt out as he reaches down from behind her, hands moving around her upper arms and making the move to lift her up from where she has landed.

Honestly, she's lucky she's pretty.
February 12, 2019 09:45 pm

Averly Amoret

Averly’s view of the brawl before her shifted suddenly, her arms aching at the unexpected motion of being heaved upwards and back onto her feet. Her vision became spotty as she whipped around, suddenly unsteady on her toes as she struggled to work through the pounding in her head, the taste of blood still strong in her mouth. It took tremendous effort to lean on the bar beside her as she fought to steady herself, the room still spinning as the sounds of the men who had trampled over her grew more distant.

Dabbing at the corners of her blood-stained lips, she looked up and attempted to give the stranger a tentative smile. Those thunderous blues struggling to focus on the face before her. The “Thank you” barely made it past her swollen mouth when she suddenly recognized the handsome features of the stranger before her.

The reserved smile on her face slowly melted into a frown, the fire deep within her belly flaring up once more. It was only when her nails dug into her palm, bringing clarity to her situation, that she realized she had been staring at him.

“Um…aren’t you?”

A sudden collision sounded from somewhere deeper within the pub, shouting ensued from where the fight continued. It was only then she truly placed the connection between her savior and her misfortune.

“Shouldn’t you be controlling the two gorilla’s you accompanied here tonight? Or have you come to laugh at one piece of the wreckage that they will be leaving behind?” A scowl graced itself on her ordinarily calm features as she shoved past, her temper flaring ever so slightly as she hastily made her way towards the exit.

Once outside, Averly struggled to take a deep breath. The air being replaced by the pleasant scent of petrichor, as opposed to the odor that came from cheap booze and tobacco products. Normally Ave was able to accept both the good and bad with equanimity, but under these circumstances her disposition towards the melodramatics shone as bright as the lights outside of the drinkery.

Quivering fingers struggled to bring a cigarette to her now crimson lips. She began inhaling the chemicals with a sudden urgency to relieve herself of all feeling, aside from the burn in her throat and lungs.

Tonight was without a doubt, not her night.

February 13, 2019 04:05 pm

Gray Taylor

Here we go. Gray's cold stare settles on the woman, ignorant of the traveling brawl just feet away. A bemused huff of amusement escapes him as she assesses what he should be doing. But of course, he is guilty as charged. He sat with them. He instigated the fight. He is solely responsible for the fat lip she is surely going to have for days. There would be no denying a thing. The fact of the matter is that he simply does not care.

Gray wouldn't stop her from pushing her way past him, instead looking on at the damage he has caused. One man, dead and slumped in a chair, yet to be recognized for what he is. The others, throwing fists and breaking everything in their path. He can think of at least one person who might appreciate this.

Too bad they aren't here.

His admiration is cut short as the two men careen into the corpse, actions stopping as demands to call for the ambulance take over the bar and others flock to the aid of his victim.

That is what he is, isn't he? A victim. He'd been slated to die, and yet, it is still untimely. He was young, otherwise healthy, and in moderately good shape. He likely had a family of one sort or another, or at least a grouping of close friends.

Sirens already screeching in the distance, Gray would calmly turn on his heel and move toward the door, following the very same path as the angry, judgmental little blond that had walked it just moments before. Aftermath is not in his job description, and he certainly would not take up such a task.

And there she was, just outside with a cigarette, shaking like a leaf.

Petty as ever, he barely brushes by her as he tosses a petty wish over his shoulder.

"Have a good night."
February 17, 2019 10:01 am

Averly Amoret

Have a good night.

The simple phrase had her insides tying up in knots. The heat that had threatened to eat her alive earlier, was once again back with a vengeance. It was the way that he had regarded her as an unimportant bystander that bothered her the most. A familiar heat returned to the apples of her cheeks, as she gnawed on her lower lip, causing her to quickly drop the cigarette that had been dangling between her fingers. Had she been any more naïve, she easily could have mistaken his parting statement to be sincere.

However, naïve was not in her description.

It took her tremendous expertise on her own self-control to not shout after him, keeping a hold of her temper as she instead painted a coy smile on her lips. “I’m sure it will be easy to do with one less ugly mug in the crowd.”

Turning ever so smugly in the opposite direction, she watched as the paramedics walked into the pub with a stretcher. Her smile turned real then, as she anxiously awaited to see which one of the males had been injured the most. A small, dark part of her hoped that the one who had punched her would have broken a bone, or perhaps his nose.

It was as they examined the limp body, stretched over the table, that the tightness in Averly’s gut became one of horror.

She was not fond of mortals, but there was something about the too-still body of the man that reminded her of the haunting smell that was carrion. One less ‘ugly mug’ indeed, considering that one of the four had dropped dead.  

One of four. With another walking away.

Although Averly was a proud creature who often shied away from the concerns of others, curiosity often got the best of her. This circumstance would be no different. Even if she had called the rude, handsome stranger ugly in a sly attempt to get under his skin.

Inwardly cursing at herself, she talked off in the same direction that he had turned to. Unsure of whether she was looking forward to any ensuing confrontation, or if she would instead carry on as usual and mind her own business.

February 17, 2019 04:01 pm

Gray Taylor

One less ugly mug, indeed.

For all the world, it would seem her words fail to reach him. Gray hears them just fine, smirking to himself though she cannot see. Women are so emotional, quick to judge and sometimes rightfully so. While he would love to indulge her in her tantrum, he needs to get away. Getting arrested yet again is simply not on his agenda.

He can absolutely tell that he is being followed. Gray wouldn't give any indication of such, but instead cross the street and turn right - opposite side of the street, opposite direction. Hands in his pocket, he only glances sideways before stepping back into traffic to cross the street once more.

Back to the bar.

It is important to note that Gray is a petty, ill-tempered man. Unless you mean something to him, or provide some sort of usefulness, he does not give a rat's right asscheek about you. There are few that make the cut, and fewer still that offer up any sort of personal wealth.

So it is without any sort of ill feelings that he approaches one of the officers outside, and seems intimidated. The keyword, of course, is seems.

Conversation is instantly struck, Gray talking and turning to point out the young, golden haired woman that had given him lip and followed him.

But his tale is far more interesting.

The tale he weaves has an officer flagging her down and approaching quickly, shouting for her to keep her hands in plain sight. Gray Taylor has spun his lie about the young woman that instigated a fight, threatened his life, and then followed him.
This particular brand of ugly mug has suggested her guilt in the murder of one Mr. Vas.
February 20, 2019 08:44 pm

Averly Amoret

A simply muttered “sh*t” could be heard escaping her lips as an officer approached Averly.

As the officer gazed down at her, his initiative to approach his new suspect only resulted in the appreciation of her lithe body and young face. Which was far too apparent to make her comfortable. It was only as he began to question her about the murder that Averly was able to make a connection. She suspected that the scowling man she had not-so-discreetly stalked, had fed false information to the mustached officer currently investigating her split lip.

How right she was.

Wincing as metal handcuffs dug into her slim wrists, Averly couldn’t help but hiss up at her all too eager captor. It seemed that her completely truthful story had been dismissed entirely. She couldn’t blame the law enforcement though, she was new in town, and the lie that the well-dressed man wove was expertly executed. She was almost tempted to admire how quickly he could think on his feet. It was a trait she had yet to master.  

Her admiration was quickly extinguished as the officer handcuffing her, shoved her up against the brick building. The damp brick scratched at her soft features, sure to leave more marks on her. Averly listened as the officer droned on about how he wouldn’t have to resort to extremes should she be able to ‘pay attention’ and ‘cooperate.’ Attention to detail was one of few talents Averly possessed so early into her life, and she would be damned if she gave that up now.

Like the fact that the officer pinning her, graciously digging his hand into her lower back, wore the beautiful wedding ring of a woman around his neck. Averly could only hope that a woman he was betrothed to had either died or, made the executive decision to leave him. She would need his misfortune to open the door she sought to enter. She may not have heard the questions he repeatedly fired at her, but she most definitely heard the despair filling his heart as her magic pierced his mind.

Sorrow clouded his otherwise sharp mind as Averly’s tendrils of magic twisted their way around his memories. A beautiful brunette holding a child was front and center in his mind, a door visible just behind it. Averly’s magic slipped through with ease, slipping into the inner most part of his subconscious.  Gently, she let a kernel of her own sadness seep into his own. Watching as the two braided around one another, feeding off of each other. It could have been beautiful, had she the time to observe the magic at hand.

It must have only been minutes, but Averly felt as though a lifetime had passed as she snapped back into her own mind once more. Her job was complete, but now she had to cross her fingers and hope it would work. The many doors she had walked through within his mind had exhausted her magic. She could feel her arms tremble underneath the officer’s strong, calloused hands. Exhaustion threatened to send her to her knees.

When the officer’s grip loosened, she did just that.

Whispering something about how she was free to go, he unlocked the handcuffs encircling her wrists and walked off. She was sure that he set off to tell his partners that she was innocent for some reason or another. There was no telling which excuse she had planted was the one that had bought her freedom. Averly didn’t particularly care, either.

Still on her knees, Averly massaged her now red wrists. The world still spinning, she fought hard to glare at the stranger who had given her up. No concern of hers now, as she would be best not to piss him off again.

February 24, 2019 12:06 pm
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