Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

fuel to take flight (i think you would beat the moon)

They found their first vessel when it was sleeping. Cowardly, but easy.

They flew in, killing the vessel almost instantly.

They easily assimilated into the life of Jephtah ben Dov. They had been watching him for a few months, and it was quite simple for them to pick up where the human had left off. No one suspected Jephtah had long died and his body was being used for an ethereal being to perform their first job on Earth.

They still feel vaguely guilty about killing him.

They met Talia bat Yosef on their sixth day there. By then, they had been able to use Jephtah's name and pronouns comfortably.

He fell in love with her on his eighth day.

The subject of marriage came up often during their discussions. Both of them weren't too keen on the idea of marriage, but at the time, it was just as inevitable as death.

Jephtah, however, was too young to marry, and Talia was getting too old to wait for him. He was only sixteen, and Talia was fast approaching fourteen.

"I can wait," Talia insisted. "I'll talk to my father, he'll understand-"

"Talia," Jephtah said softly. "You know he won't. I'm just a kid, and he'd want the best for his firstborn."

Talia stared at him for a moment before throwing her arms around him.

"I'm going to marry you," she whispered fiercely. "We're going to do this. I promise."



They met almost every night behind an abandoned shed and talked for hours, staring at the stars. The Kesîl constellation remained Talia's favorite to find, although the star Meleket ha-Shamayim was Jephtah's.

They were lying there together, hands loosely clasped as they gazed into the sky.

"I would like to be a star," Talia said suddenly, and Jephtah turned his head to look at her.

"Why?" he asked.

Talia shrugged, not taking her eyes away from the sky. "Because we look up at them and admire them without question. They're pure beauty. We don't challenge that."

"You're beautiful," Jephtah said immediately.

Talia smiled, squeezing his hand. "Thank you, love," she murmured, still looking up at the sky. "And they're free. I want to be free."

"Of what?"

"Everything," she said simply. "Of this city. Of my family. Of the law. Of the expectations of me. I just... I just want to be."



"You're neglecting your duties, Jephtah."

Jephtah startled when he saw Dabria standing there. Her wings were gleaming, ivory and bold, and Jephtah had a moment of pure envy before forcing it down.

"You're neglecting your duties," she repeated.

Jephtah bowed his head respectfully before saying, "My apologies."

Dabria sighed, walking forward. "Tyre won't protect itself, Jephtah." She touched his forehead. "You know who comes."

Jephtah looked up and nodded. "My apologies."

Dabria sighed. "He asks you to focus on the city, Jephtah."

Jephtah tried to avoid the thoughts of Talia running through his mind. "Of course."

"Good."

And Jephtah was alone.




"Eyal ben Abram wants to marry me," Talia said one evening as they watched the sun sink behind the earth.

Jephtah paused. "And what did you say?"

"I said I'd think about it," she said, scuffing the dirt with her sandal. "I'm not thinking."

Jephtah pretended he didn't let out a sigh of relief at that.

"We're going to get married," she told him, looking up at him, and Jephtah was struck by how beautiful she was. "We will. One day."

"Yes," Jephtah agreed, wanting to kiss her so badly. "Yes. We will."



"Eyal's persistent," Talia told him after they'd located Kesîl in the sky.

Jephtah nodded slowly.

"He- he kind of scares me," she admitted quietly.

Jephtah looked up. "In what way?"

Talia shrugged. "He's- I don't know, very forward. I don't wish to marry him." She shivered. "I especially don't wish to lie with him."

Jephtah paused. He'd completely forgotten about that part.

"I don't wish to bleed," Talia murmured.

Jephtah slowly wrapped an arm around her. "I- I'm sorry, Talia."

They were both quiet for a moment before Talia suddenly said, "We should run away."

"What?" Jephtah said, incredulous.

"We should run away," Talia repeated, turning to him. "Run away together. Get married in some other city."

"Talia, we- we'd never make it," Jephtah said softly. "The city closest to Tyre is Sidon, and they'd know we went there. They'd find us."

"Who are 'they', Jephtah?" Talia asked. "Why can't we just refuse to go back?"

"Why can't you just refuse to marry for a few more years?" Jephtah said, only realizing how mean that sounded until after it was out of his mouth. "I- I'm sorry."

Talia sighed, resting her head on Jephtah's shoulder. "It's all right."

They stare at the sky.

"I don't wish to marry him," she whispered.

"I know," he murmured back.



"Your human," Dabria said, waking Jephtah from his sleep, "she is in distress."

"Wha-" Jephtah scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "What are you...?"

"Talia," Dabria said urgently. "She is screaming."

Jephtah sat up and concentrated. He could hear...

"Talia!" he yelped, and tried to fly out before remembering he didn't have wings.

"Run, Jephtah," Dabria said as he scrambled to his feet and off to find her. "And remember the Law."




Talia was lying there, tears streaming down her cheeks as Jephtah pulled Eyal away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as he dropped to his knees beside her. "I'm sorry, Jephtah."

"It's not your fault," Jephtah said, shrugging his simlāh off and helping her put it on. "It's not, love. Believe me."

Talia tried to smile, but her lower lip quivered and suddenly she was sobbing into Jephtah's shoulder.

"I can't marry you now," she whimpered into his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Jephtah felt his throat close.

"I won't tell," he said quickly. "I'll make sure he doesn't tell, and-"

Talia was shaking her head.

"It won't work," she said softly. "You know that."

And yes, Jephtah knew that, but...

"We can still try," he pleaded. "I know I'm too young, but I'll ask my father to ask your father for permission for us to marry, and we can-"

"No, Jephtah," she said gently, squeezing his hand. "I won't let you suffer that shame."

"We have to try," Jephtah insisted. "I don't care about shame. I just care about you."

Talia choked on a sob. "I have to marry him," she said, looking back to where Eyal was trying to staunch his bloodied nose. "It's the only way I can marry now, Jephtah, and I have to marry."

Jephtah felt a tear roll down his cheek as he wrapped Talia into a hug.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she whispered back.



"I shouldn't be here," Talia murmured, playing with her mițpaḥațh nervously.

Jephtah squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry this happened."

Talia looked up at him for a moment, and suddenly her mouth was on his, kissing him deeply. He made a muffled noise of surprise as he fell onto his back. She straddled his hips and continued to kiss him. He didn't kiss back, but he didn't push her off either.

He finally stopped her when he felt her tears hot on his skin.

"Talia," he murmured, pushing her back just slightly, "stop. You're not..."

There were tears running down her cheeks, and she buried her head in his neck.

"I hate being married to him," she gasped out. "I hate it. He's so rough and he doesn't let me eat enough and he's so controlling and I want to divorce him but I can't."

"Why not?" Jephtah found himself asking. "There's no law that says you can't."

She smiled wetly at him. "No one will marry me if I divorce him. I have to be married, Jephtah. It's God's Will."

"I'll marry you," Jephtah said quickly.

"I know you would," Talia said. "But your father would never allow you to marry someone soiled."

"You're not soiled," Jephtah whispered, cupping her face with his hands.

She placed her hand over one of his, pressing his hand to her skin.

"I'm impure now, Jephtah," she murmured. "You can't marry me. I'm so sorry."

He stared at her for a moment before gently kissing her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered. "Forever. I promise."



"You're hurting her," Jephtah said when Eyal ben Abram opened the door.

"Hello to you, too," Eyal said. "Would you like some water?"

"No, I don't want any water," Jephtah snapped. "I want you to divorce her."

"I can't," Eyal said simply. "You should know that law, Jephtah. Or maybe you shouldn't." He narrowed his eyes. "After all, you're not from around here."

Jephtah froze. "I know not what you speak of," he said stiffly. "I've lived here all my life."

"Jephtah ben Dov has," Eyal said slowly. "But you. You haven't."

Jephtah slowly looked up and took a step back when he saw that Eyal's eyes were completely black.

"Demon," he said slowly.

Eyal smiled. "Yes."

"What are you doing here?" Jephtah demanded. "What do you want with me?"

Eyal raised an eyebrow. "How typical," he drawled. "Assuming I'm here for something regarding you."

Jephtah studied him. "You are, though. Aren't you."

Eyal smiled slowly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am."



"We have to leave," Jephtah said as soon as Talia walked into his sight.

Talia blinked. "What?"

"We have to leave," he repeated.

"Why?"

"Eyal is dangerous," he said.

She blinked. "I'm aware, Jephtah," she said rather dryly, adjusting her darkly colored mițpaḥațh.

Jephtah sighed. "No, no, I mean..." He clasped his hands together. "He is dangerous in more than an earthly sense."

She frowned at him. "Are you saying that the man I'm married to isn't human?"

Jephtah nodded vehemently. "Yes."

"I have had him inside me," she said without much tone to her voice, and Jephtah choked on air. "He felt human."

Jephtah covered his eyes. "I..."

She sighed. "He seems to be man to me, Jephtah," she said softly. "And I would know. Wouldn't I?"

"I..." Jephtah didn't know what to say. "Be- be careful, Talia."

She smiled a little dryly as she kissed his cheek before leaving him and Kesîl alone together.



"You're not to see her anymore," Eyal told him.

Jephtah frowned, looking at him challengingly. "And who's to say you can stop me, demon?"

"The elders," Eyal said simply. "I could accuse her with adultery. It shouldn't be hard to prove. You would both be put to death." He smiled, eyes flashing black for a moment. "And while that might not be a problem for you, humans have a knack for staying dead."

Jephtah glared at him. "I will have you know that we have not lain together."

Eyal raised an eyebrow. "That whore hasn't spread for you yet? Shame. She's just so-" He was cut off when Jephtah punched him in the gut.

"Do not speak of her that way," he growled.

Eyal merely laughed. "She's a whore, Jephtah, and she's mine. That's more than you can say. You've been abandoned to guard a city no one cares about. If she knew what you are, she'd be glad that she married me."

"Glad that you raped her?" Jephtah growled, grabbing Eyal's throat.

"Yes," Eyal sneered. "Maybe I should tell her. Maybe she'd be a little more grateful every time I take her. Right now, all she does is cry."

Shrieking, Jephtah smacked Eyal across the face.

"Keep your hands off her," Jephtah hissed. "Off, you disgusting little sprite."

"And let our marriage go childless?" Eyal asked, eyebrows raised. "Doesn't The Lord want us to 'be fruitful and multiply'?"

"Don't you dare impregnate her," Jephtah snarled. "Do not dirty her with your filthy-"

Eyal spat in Jephtah's face.

With a roar, Jephtah summoned what Grace he had and forced it through his fingertips onto Eyal's skin. Eyal shrieked and thrashed in Jephtah's grip on him.

"Do not touch her!" Jephtah commanded. "Do not!"

"I..."

"DO NOT!" Jephtah roared.

"I WON'T!" Eyal screamed back.

Jephtah released him.

"I will hold you to that," he muttered.



Jephtah didn't see Talia for two months.



"Hi."

Jephtah looked up in surprise to see Talia standing there, looking down at where he was sitting with back to the shed.

"Talia!" he said in surprise.

She attempted a smile. "Jephtah."

"Sit, sit," he said, making room for her.

She shook her head. "I just want to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Jephtah repeated, standing up. "Are you going someplace?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps."

Jephtah frowned, taking a look at her. "Are- are you all right?"

"Mm?" Talia looked up at him with sad, sad eyes, and Jephtah was startled by the pure emptiness in her gaze.

"Talia?" he whispered, cupping her jaw.

She stepped out of his touch, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Jephtah," she murmured. "I just... goodbye."

"Where are you going?" he asked, reaching for her hand. She flinched. "Talia?"

"Jephtah," she said softly, reaching out to touch his face. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jephtah said, confused. "Talia, are- are you all right?"

She didn't answer, instead just tracing her fingers over his skin.

"You look afraid," she commented quietly.

"I..." He paused, biting his lip. "I'm afraid that you're going to do something drastic."

She smiled slightly. "I love you," she said, and Jephtah kissed her.

They kissed for what seemed like centuries, yet it felt too soon when Talia finally pulled away.

"I love you," he whispered as she started to walk away.

She waved, eyes looking sad. "Be not afraid, Jephtah," she murmured as she turned her back to him. "Be not afraid."



"I'm sorry, Jephtah."

He woke to find Dabria crouched beside where he slept, her wings drooping slightly and eyes sad.

"What?" he said, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. Jephtah studied her for a moment before he recalled his last conversation with Talia, and his blood ran cold.

"Is she...?" he whispered.

"I'm sorry," Dabria replied softly. "By her own hand."

Jephtah's eyes widened. "No," he breathed.

"I'm sorry," Dabria was saying, but Jephtah was already gone.



"You killed her."

Eyal looked up. "I did what?"

"You killed her," he repeated, moving forward.

"I did no such thing. It was all her," Eyal said calmly, stepping over- over the body.

Over Talia's body.

Jephtah swallowed hard, concentrating on Eyal's dark, cold eyes.

"You killed her," he says again.

"I have not touched her," Eyal replied easily, and Jephtah nearly threw up when he realized that Eyal was stepping in Talia's blood. "I kept my word."

"She..." Jephtah took a deep breath. "She never would have done this."

Eyal looked down at Talia, who was sprawled on her back in a pool of her own blood.

"Well, I didn't do it," he commented. He looked up to see Jephtah practically trembling in fury. "Oh, Jephtah," he said, mock-disapproving. "Don't tell me you truly cared for this mortal."

"Shut up," Jephtah muttered. "Shut up before I-"

"She was barely worth it," Eyal told him. "Barely worth the trouble I had to go through to marry her to distract you from your little duties here." He sneered. "She wasn't even a good fuck."

With a strangled roar, Jephtah tackled Eyal onto his back and caught his with a vicious right hook. Eyal cried out in pain when Jephtah dug his nails into Eyal's skin.

"You have no right to even speak of her," he gasped out, digging his knee into Eyal's stomach. "No right, you little imp."

"She cried," Eyal said, managing a smirk even as Jephtah wrapped his hands around his throat. "Always crying. No matter how many times I hit her she would not shut up-"

"STOP TALKING!" Jephtah shrieked.

Eyal paused, focusing on him.

"Aw," he said dryly. "Poor Jephtah. Are you crying? Poor little baby."

Jephtah startled when he realized that he actually was crying, and wiped his tears away furiously before backhanding Eyal.

"Shut up," he muttered.

"So, Jephtah bekor," Eyal said, smiling up at Jephtah despite the gash on his cheek from Jephtah's fingernails. "What are you going to do with me now?"

Jephtah paused, realizing he really had no idea what to do with Eyal. He couldn't kill him.

Could he?

"You couldn't possibly kill me," Eyal said with a sneer. "You don't have the balls." With that, he jerked his knee up, catching Jephtah in the crotch. Jephtah cried out in pain, crumpling, but managed to snag Eyal's kethōneth to prevent him from escaping.

"You aren't going anywhere, you fiend," he grunted as he threw a punch that connected with the side of Eyal's face. Eyal yelped in pain.

"You'll pay for that," he muttered, and suddenly he was spitting ashes into Jephtah's face. Jephtah roared in pain, summoning his Grace and forcing it through his body, burning Eyal wherever their skin touched.

"Stop, stop, STOP!" Eyal shrieked, clawing at Jephtah weakly. "PLEASE! PLEASE!"

Jephtah waited three more seconds before finally stopping, leaving Eyal gasping and shuddering.

Eyal panted for a few more moments before taking a deep breath and beaming up at Jephtah.

"Did you like my impression of the late Talia bat Yosef?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes. "I heard it every night. Every single night."

Jephtah stared at him for a moment before plunging his fist into Eyal's face, shrieking wordlessly.

He kept punching Eyal, even as his arms grew tired and his fist grew bloodied. Eyal spat a mixture of insult and ash between blows, and they only fueled Jephtah's ire, especially when they turned to Talia.

Jephtah finally stopped, his whole body weary. Eyal was coughing blood now, but he still managed to give Jephtah a fanged smirk.

"Even if you kill me," he spat out, "you know I won't be dead." He sneered. "You don't want me dead. You know when I go back to Hell I'll just fuck her until she's bloodied and begging and broken." He hissed, eyes flashing. "You know I won't be dead for lo-"

Eyal was cut off when Jephtah curled his fingers around Eyal's throat and ripped his larynx clean out.





from midnight skies

Jephtah had only a moment to watch Eyal's eyes widen as blood gushed from his neck. Eyal was making a gasping, gurgling sound as air rushed from his lungs and out of his throat when Jephtah felt himself being whisked down.

Down?

Jephtah's eyes widened, and he heard himself screaming as he felt everything grow hotter and hotter and hotter. He frantically tried to bat the wings that he felt materializing behind him, but he was falling too fast.

He landed gracelessly with a thud. Everything was hot, scorchingly hot, and muffled screams tainted the air.

"Jephtah ben Dov."

A cold, low voice struck the air, and Jephtah looked up to see a fully-formed demon there, staring down at him.

"Have fun."

With a smirk and a flash of bronze eyes, the demon gestured backwards and Jephtah was suddenly being pulled back towards cold, sharp claws.

"Don't touch me!" he shrieked, and fought desperately when he felts hands on his wings. "Don't- don't touch me! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

The claws didn't stop.

Jephtah sobbed when he felt a claw slip its way under one of his wings and pull. He screamed as he felt it pull back, wing moving back along with it. Tears ran down his cheeks as he realized that he felt unbalanced, that he was missing a wing.

"Stop," he gasped out. "Please. Please."

The claws started to work their way underneath Jephtah's other wing, and he only fought halfheartedly as he felt one worm its way into the joint. He only whimpered as he felt his other wing being torn from his body.

After that, he doesn't feel anything.





best left unspoken (i must let go)



Tatyana was a gorgeous Russian woman who Jephtah met not long after he had finally managed to pull himself out. He had chosen his vessel randomly, and he was confused, confused by the snow and the language and the pale skinned people and the cold.

He tried praying to The Lord for guidance, but was met with a block in his mind so strong he nearly vomited.

Instead he swayed in place until he finally passed out, and he woke up in the arms of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.



"Dabria," Jephtah said, staring at his friend with wild eyes. "Wh- where am I?"

She smiled sadly at him. "I'm Diana," she said softly. "You're in the Russian Empire. The year is 5547, or 1787 as the people here know it. Your name is Jermija. She is Tatyana."

"She?" Jeph- Jermija said. "Do- do you mean..."

"Talia," Diana said. "She's reincarnating now, Jermija."

"Does she... does she remember?" Jermija asked, hardly daring to believe any of this.

Diana shook her head. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "She might be able to remember a few things, if something triggers her, but for the most part no, she doesn't remember."

There was a knock on the door to the room where Jermija found himself after he woke up, and Diana disappeared instantly.

"Come in?" he called hesitantly.

Tatyana entered the room holding a steaming red mug that read Hapj.

"Hello," she murmured, sitting down next to Jermija. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Did I feel badly?" Jermija asked, confused.

She laughed, tugging on her long, blonde hair, and Jermija wanted to cry when he realized how much he missed her laugh.

"Well, I assumed," she told him. "Your skin was quite warm." She paused, blushing when she realized she told him that she touched his skin. "I- I mean-"

Jermija smiled at her. "I understand," he said. "I'm Jermija."

"Tatyana," she said, smiling back at him.

Jermija wanted to live with her forever.




They grew to become close friends quickly. Tatyana was smart and sweet and gentle and funny and beautiful, everything Talia was. Because she was Talia.

He found himself wanting to bring up their last life together to her quite often, but always decided against it.

"I'm engaged," Tatyana told him one day, words flowing as easily as mention of the weather.

Jermija spluttered. "Wha- what?"

"Engaged," Tatyana repeated.

"To who?"

"Someone named Abdulov," she said with a shrug. "I don't know him well."

"And you... I..." He paused, wondering how to proceed. "You're marrying someone you don't know?" he decided to say.

Tatyana gave him a confused look. "Of course," she said slowly. "That is usual, is it not?"

"Well..." Jermija stopped, realizing how little he knew about this land and time. "I... well, no."

Tatyana nodded slowly. "All right, then," she said. "I'm marrying come spring. You're welcome to attend."

"I'm in love with you," Jermija blurted.

Tatyana stared at him for a moment before softly murmuring, "I'm in love with you, too."



Jermija had no idea where his life was going.

He thought that they were being given a second chance, that he would be able to live a human life with the woman he loved, but instead she was marrying someone else and he would be stuck in love with her until he died and went back to Hell.

Maybe he was still there.



Tatyana made a gorgeous bride, and her husband, Edik Abdulov, was a handsome and unnervingly familiar man.

"Who are you?" Edik asked him after the wedding as Tatyana went around, greeting everyone else who attended.

"Jermija Durov," Jermija said, nodding respectfully, although wishing nothing more than for Edik to burn from the inside out. Several centuries ago he would have felt ashamed for such thoughts, but by then he had ceased to care.

Edik looked somewhat suspicious, but nodded back.

Later, as Jermija was walking back from the ceremony, he heard someone coming up behind him.

"Hello," Edik said, matching pace with him.

"Hi," Jermija replied cautiously.

They walked in silence for a few moments before Jermija said, "Wouldn't you rather be with your bride?"

Edik shrugged. "I haven't seen you in centuries, Jephtah."

Jermija tripped.

"Whoa, there," Edik- Eyal? said, reaching to help him up.

"Don't touch me!" Jermija yelped, scrambling back.

Edik sighed. "I'm just trying to help my brother out," he said. "You were turned, were you not?"

Jermija pulled his legs up to his chest, eyeing Edik with suspicion.

"Come on," Edik said, doing a cursory glance around before focusing on Jermija. "Phase for me. What do your wings look like? Do you have a tail? How long are your fangs?"

"Why do you want to know?" Jermija bit out.

Edik stopped. "I'm just curious," he said evenly. "You're one of us now, Jermija."

"I'm not one of you!" Jermija snapped, and knew Edik didn't hear him because the other was focused on Jermija's mouth. His teeth.

His fangs.

"They're sharper than mine," Edik commented, nodding approvingly. "Very nice."

Jermija scowled, trying to retract his fangs. He'd never done so before, and as a result, failed.

"Just breathe in while imagining your fangs retracting," Edik instructed.

Jermija glared at him. "And why should I do what you say?" he challenged.

Edik sighed. "I'm just trying to help you."

"You raped, married, and killed the woman I love!" Jermija snapped. "Forgive me if I'm skeptical of your intentions."

"I did not kill her," Edik hissed. "I did not."

"You did," Jermija insisted. "Perhaps not directly, but you raped her, beat her, starved her. You drove her to the need for escape, and she hasn't to even managed to flee completely."

Edik's face contorted into something ugly for just a couple seconds before he smiled.

"Love?" he murmured. "We're demons, Jermija. We don't love."

Jermija swallowed.

"We don't love," Edik said quietly. "We can't love. So rid whatever romanticized fantasies of Talia bat Yosef you have and focus on what makes you a demon, brother."



They met almost every night behind an abandoned shed, and Edik taught Jermija how to control his new demon abilities.

"Like this?" Jermija asked, closing his eyes and breathing in. He felt a strange sensation, and ran his tongue over his teeth. His fangs had retracted.

"Yes," Edik said somewhat uselessly.

They sat there in silence for a moment, Jermija staring at the stars.

"What animals?"

Jermija furrowed his brows, looking over to Edik. "What do you mean, what animals?"

"What animals can you... never mind," Edik said, shaking his head. "I'll tell you later."

Jermija shrugged, shaking it off.

Edik clears his throat. "I haven't seen your wings yet."

Jermija froze. "Well..."

"Come on," Edik insisted. "What are they like? Are they feathery? Bony? Leathery? What color?"

Jermija shook his head, standing up. "I- I should be getting back."

"Come on," Edik repeated, practically purring. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Jermija shook his head again, turning his back on Edik to head back home. "No, I need-"

"You- you were stripped, weren't you?"

Jermija slowly turned back to Edik to see him standing there, looking somewhat disgusted.

"You were," he said. "I..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Jermija said shortly before turning back once more and heading for his home.




Jermija sleeps on his stomach.

It's a habit that he can't quite manage to break. It always hurts to remember why he used to, why he doesn't need to anymore.




"I haven't seen you in a while," Tatyana commented.

"I'm sorry," Jermija apologized. "I thought you would be busy with married life."

Tatyana shrugged. "Edik's not home much," she said. "It's a bit strange. He disappears after dinner at the same time every day."

"I wonder why," Jermija lied.

Tatyana nodded. "So, how are you?" she asked. "Have you found yourself a lady yet?"

"No," Jermija said, so vehemently that Tatyana raised an eyebrow. "I- I mean, no, I haven't found one suitable."

Tatyana nodded understandingly.

"You won't be young forever though, Jermija," she said. "You'd best find a wife soon."

Jermija looked at her for one long moment, imagined Edik's blood staining his hands once again for a split second, and smiled at her.

"You're right," he said softly. "I should."



"You feel pulls, right?" Edik asked. "Pulling you down?"

Jermija nodded. Yes, he felt them.

"Imagine you're bringing the pulls up," Edik said. "Through your throat." He turned his head and let out a puff of ash.

Jermija closed his eyes and focused on the pulls he always felt inside, urging him back down, and attempted to pull them back up. He intertwined himself in them and tried to push them up, but they were strong. Very strong.

He tried, over and over again, until he felt Edik's hand on his shoulder. "Get up, Jermija," he said softly, and Jermija looked around to see that he had dropped to his knees.

Jermija slowly stood up.

"Don't let it control you," Edik instructed. "You're trying to harness a part of yourself, Jermija. If you cannot control yourself, you cannot hope to control anything."

Jermija nodded, closing his eyes once again.

"It does not control you," Edik murmured.

Jermija once again acknowledged the pulls, but he did not latch himself to them this time. Instead, he imagined them just flowing up slowly, and felt a warmth trickle up his spine and through his throat. Suddenly, he felt a tickling sensation in his throat, and he opened his mouth. He opened his eyes in time to see a small puff of smoke leave his lips.

"Brilliant!" Edik crowed, resting his hand on Jermija's shoulder. "You're a very quick learner, brother."

Jermija once again had to remind himself exactly who that man was. That he was not even a man.

That he disrespected. That he wounded. That he abused.

That he was a monster.

Then Jermija remembered that he was a monster, too.

"Thank you," he murmured.




"What are you doing?"

Jermija jumped, whirling around to see Diana perched on his windowsill.

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"The one who was responsible for Talia bat Yosef's suicide is now teaching you... tricks," Diana said. "What are you trying to do, Jermija?"

Jermija sneered. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Diana was suddenly directly in front of him, wings spread wide in warning and eyes glinting dangerously.

"Do not disrespect me, Jermija Durov," she hissed. "You know I can hurt you. You know I would not hesitate to do so if ordered. Do not trifle with me, Jermija Durov. You know what I have done. You know what I can do."

They glared at each other for one, long moment before Jermija finally looked away.

"I apologize," he said gruffly.

Diana continued to glare at him for a bit longer before sighing, taking a step back, and vanishing.



"You and Edik seem close," Tatyana noted.

Jermija shrugged. "I suppose."

Tatyana nodded. "He talks about you sometimes," she said.

He paused. "What does he say?"

"Not much," Tatyana said. "Most of it doesn't make sense. What do you suppose, 'Jermija got a full flame today' means?"

Jermija tried took confused. "I have no idea."

Tatyana nodded. "You seem bored, Jermija."

"I'm not bored," Jermija said quickly.

"You are," Tatyana said, tugging at the tips of her hair. "With me?"

"No."

"Are you certain? You don't sound certain."

"I'm certain."

"Tell me the truth, Jermija. Are you-"

"I AM NOT BORED!"

Tatyana reeled back as though he had slapped her.

Jermija sighed. "I... sorry," he said gruffly.

"Are you?" she asked quietly.

He paused. "...no," he realized aloud. No, he was not sorry.

"I thought you were in love with me," Tatyana said softly. "Why aren't you sorry?"

Jermija looked up. "What are you doing, Tatyana?" he asked. "Why did you marry him?"

She looked at him in confusion. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Why did you marry him if you're in love with me!?" Jermija shouted.

Tatyana furrowed her eyebrows. "Marriage has nothing to do with love, Jermija," she said slowly. "What are you talking about?"

Jermija sighed, standing up. "Forget about it."

Tatyana watched him. "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere not here," he said shortly. "Leave me alone." He began to walk away.

"I thought you were in love with me!"

Jermija paused, slowly turning back to face Tatyana.

"I thought I was, too," he said evenly before walking away.




"What did you say to her?" Edik asked after Jermija successfully melted the snow around them with a single breath of fire.

"What are you talking about?" he replied, not looking up.

"She's been quite a bitch as of late," Edik said casually, and Jermija fought down the part of him that wanted to tear out Edik's throat at the "bitch". He doesn't love her. Not anymore. "I assume you said something."

"Ah," Jermija said. "I told her that I don't love her."

Edik whistled. "That'll do it. She really loves you, Jermija. It's pathetic, really."

Something in Jermija's stomach flipped. Indigestion? Mortal bodies were so volatile. "Ah," he said indifferently.

"She accused me of adultery, actually," Edik told him. "That I have been having an affair with you."

Jermija coughed up some ash. "What?"

Edik shrugged, looking amused. "Accused me of 'stealing your heart' or something," he said. "Said that was why we haven't consummated yet. That I'm too preoccupied with you."

"You two haven't..."

Edik shook his head. "I gave you my word," he said.

Jermija raised an eyebrow, impressed. "I don't mind," he said, ignoring everything screaming against what he was about to say. "You can fuck her. I don't care."

Edik looked at him, appearing much like a cat who had just caught a particularly quick mouse.

"You give me your word?" he asked.

Jermija nods. "You have my word."



Jermija didn't hear from Edik or Tatyana for several weeks.



"You have to help me."

Jermija opened his eyes to see Tatyana kneeling at the side of his bed.

"What?" he asked blearily.

"Help me," she whispered. "Hide me. Please. He's- he's hurting me, and no one will help me. No one will believe me."

"What do you want me to do, Tatyana?" Jermija said tiredly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hide me," she answered immediately. "Smuggle me out. Please. Get me away from him."

"What's he doing to you?"

"He- he hits me," she murmured. "He starves me. He... he rapes me."

"He's your husband, Tatyana," Jermija said, yawning. "He's entitled to those things."

"He makes me bleed," she whispered. "Jermija, please. I don't have anyone but you."

"You don't have me," he said coldly. "Leave me alone, Tatyana. Go back to your husband. Let him beat you. Let him rape you. It is where you belong."



Diana appeared in the same spot Tatyana was the moment she left.

"That was cruel," she said quietly.

He shrugged. "I don't care."

"Truly?" she challenged.

"Truly."

"I think," she said slowly, "I think that you are lying." When he opened his mouth to protest, she quickly said, "But you do not know you are lying. You are lying to yourself. You have locked up the part of you that would be screaming in pain, for you have hurt the one you promised you would love forever."

"I am a demon, Diana," he said sharply. "I cannot love."

"Demons have only lust," Diana said. "Tell me, Jermija Durov, when have you last felt lustful?"

Jermija paused. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely certain of what lust was.

"I thought as much," she said, touching his forehead briefly. "You are not who you were before, but you are not entirely a demon either. Do not forget this."

"I will not," Jermija promised. He exhaled, taking a moment to reevaluate everything, and he wanted to hurt himself when he realized what he had done. "I- I have to go apologize."

Diana looked at him sadly. "I'm afraid it is too late for that, Jermija."

Jermija blinked. "What? What do you-"

But he was talking to thin air.




"Tatyana?"

Jermija dashed to where she was collapsed on the floor, knife in her hand and blood spilling from her throat.

"Tatyana, please," he gasped, sinking to his knees and carefully checking her for signs of life.

There were none.

Pressing the palm of her hand to his chest, Jermija felt his body began to shake with sobs.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

He hears footsteps behind him, but he doesn't look back.

"Jermija Durov."

"Edik Abdulov," Jermija replied, carefully placing Tatyana's hand down on her chest before slowly standing up and turning around.

"Have you realized that you love her?" Edik asked, eyes wide in a semblance of innocence.

"Realized?" Jermija repeated. "Are you saying that you knew I can love?"

"Of course," Edik said easily. "Everyone knows your kind can never truly become demonic. You've managed quite well, but you? You are know true demon. You know that." He paused, cocking his head. "But you didn't know that, did you?"

Jermija lunged.

"YOU KILLED HER!" he screams as he tackled Edik to the ground.

"I did no such thing," Edik said calmly. "I merely sharpened the blade."

Jermija punched him in the face.

"I'm getting a remarkable sense of déjà vu," Edik commented, and Jermija punched him again.

"Shut up!" he growled. "Shut up shut up shut up you manipulative bastard!"

"Are you going to kill me, Jermija?" Edik asked, a gash from one of Jermija's blows oozing blood. "You know how well that worked last time."

"I'm not listening to you," Jermija grunted. "You're a manipulative little fiend, and I will travel through the depths of Hell if I must if only to end you."

"Good luck," Edik laughed. "We know how you did in Hell, Jermija."

Jermija snarled, breathing a row of flame into Edik's face. Edik coughed, batting it away before smiling.

"I've taught you well," he said. "You're a very fast learner, Jermija."

"I'm aware," he muttered as he leaned back, fumbling for the knife clutched in Tatyana's left hand.

Edik looked up to see what he was doing. "You are going to kill me, then," he said, sounding mildly impressed. "I would not have foreseen that. You know, I thought that perhaps you were a bit in love with me."

Jermija pressed the knife to Edik's throat. "Shut up," he grunted. "Shut up." He can't tell if he's pressed hard enough for blood to spill, or it's just Tatyana's blood.

"Are you really going to do this, Jermija?" Edik asked. "Don't you know what will happen? That this will all happen-"

Jermija slit Edik's throat, the word again dying on his lips.




wandering right through


Sweden, 1802. Thea hung herself. Josef snapped Emil's neck, tears running down his cheeks.



Wales, 1826. Tegan slit her throat. Jeston strangled Elijah while the other spat ash at him.



Ottoman Empire, 1841. Tuana shot herself. Isa shot Eren, then put a bullet through his own head.



England, 1865. Taylor sliced her arms open. James stabbed Evan in the chest, Evan mocking until his last breath.





under a trillion stars (i blame it on my mind)


"What are you doing, Jonathan?"

Jonathan Durkin lifted his head up from his pillow and blinked wearily. Danielle was perched on the windowsill, staring at him.

"What?" he asked sleepily.

"You're just going through motions," she said. "What are you doing? You're not even trying to change anything."

"But there it is," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I can't change anything. It's pointless."

"Why not?" Danielle asked. "Why can't you?"

Jonathan stares at her. "What are you talking about?" he said. "This is my punishment, is it not? To be unable to save her from herself."

"This is a sentence, Jonathan," she said. "Not a punishment."

"I fail to see the difference," he told her dryly.

"You have not been condemned to experience the same events for an eternity, if that is what you believe," Danielle said, hopping off the windowsill to kneel by his bedside. "You have been condemned to experience the same events until you can manage to stop them."

"And how do I do that?" Jonathan challenged her.

Danielle shrugged. "That is for you to figure out, Jonathan Durkin," she said as she disappeared, leaving Jonathan alone with his thoughts.



"Jon!" Tara chirped happily as he made his way into the inn, pausing her practice.

"Hello," he said, sitting down on the bench next to her. "Don't stop."

Tara smiled, resuming her warm-up on the piano. Jonathan watched her face as she played, slightly urgent yet blissful.

"That was really good," Jonathan told her as she let the last notes fade out. "Who's is it?"

"Mine," she said, smiling shyly at him, and suddenly, Jonathan could remember exactly why he fell in love with her.

He couldn't believe he ever tried to let her go.

"It's amazing," he said a bit belatedly.

Tara blushed. "Really?"

"Really," Jonathan assured her. He paused, contemplating his next actions. "May I- um, may I kiss you?"

Tara's face went completely red. "I..."

"Please?" he tried. "Chastely, I promise."

"I... I'm being courted, Jonathan," she said, looking genuinely contrite. "I'm sorry."

Jonathan sat back. He was too late for this life, then.

Or was he?

"Who's courting you?" he asked.

Tara looked down. "Earl Abbott," she murmured.

Earl Abbott. Earl Abbott. Earl Abbott.

Jonathan nodded, sliding off of the bench.

"Where are you going?" Tara asked, looking mildly concerned.

"Oh, somewhere," he said distractedly.

"Are you all right?"

"Mm?" He looked down at her. Tara was looking up at him, fingers poised over the keys. "Oh, I'm fine. Don't let me stop your practice."

"All right," she said slowly as Jonathan strolled out of the inn.



Jonathan found Earl Abbott fairly easily.

He was a slightly stout man in his early thirties who worked as a manager of the inn Tara worked in, a fact that Jonathan had managed to miss when Tara first told him her suitor's name.

"Earl Abbott," Jonathan drawled, stepping out of the shadows the moment Earl locked his front door.

Earl jumped. "Goodness!"

"If I kill you now," Jonathan said slowly, walking forward, "You won't be able to marry her. You won't be able to abuse her. You won't be able to drive her to the point of suicide."

"Who- who are you?" Earl asked, looking anxious as he took a step back. "What are you doing in my home?"

"Nice try," Jonathan said, chuckling darkly. "I know who you are, Earl Abbott."

"Who are you?" Earl queried, looking scared. "Please leave my home."

"No," Jonathan said. "And you know exactly who I am, Earl Abbott."

"I- I'm sorry, I don't know you," Earl stammered. "Please, just leave-"

Jonathan reached out and grabbed Earl's dark brown coat before pushing him against the wall.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Earl Abbott," he growled. "You know exactly who I am. And exactly what I'm going to do with you."

Earl's eyes were filling with tears. "P-please, I don't- I don't know you, I swear. I don't know who you think I am. I'm just Earl Abbott, I manage the Unas Inn on 21st Street-"

"Shut up," Jonathan snapped. "You're Evan Applegate. Eren Aytaç. Elijah Adams. Emil Andersson. Edik Abdulov. Eyal ben Abram."

Earl was shaking head. "I don't know what you speak of. Please believe me. Please don't hurt me."

"Where did your backbone go, Earl?" Jonathan taunted. "Coward." He blew a stream of flame right above Earl's head, Earl cowering and yelping in surprise. "Show yourself," he said as he let his eyes darken and fangs slide down. "Come on. I dare you." He leaned, baring his teeth. "I dare you."

Earl whimpered. "Who- who are you? Please don't hurt me. Please."

Jonathan hesitated. He's manipulating you. Like he always has. Don't fall for it. Not again, he reminded himself, and tightened his grip on Earl's shirt.

"Nice try," he hissed. "Goodbye, Earl Abbott." He leaned in and tore Earl's throat out with his teeth.



Jonathan woke to a knocking on his door.

"It's open!" he called, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Tara opened the door, and Jonathan was wide awake immediately when he noticed she had been crying.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Earl is dead," she said, voice cracking. "He- he was murdered."

"Oh, no," Jonathan said, sounding as worried as possible. "What happened?"

"His throat was r-ripped out," she stuttered, obviously holding back tears. "It- oh, it's just awful, Jon."

"Oh, love," he murmured, holding his arms out. "Come here."

Tara only hesitated a moment before running and jumping onto his bed and into his arms, proprieties be damned.

"It's my fault," she whimpered, burying her head into the crook of Josh's neck. "It's all my fault."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her shaking frame.

"I- I can't even say it," she mumbled into his shoulder.

"It's all right, love," Jonathan assured her. "I won't judge you. I'll never judge you."

She sighed. He could feel her tears seeping through his thin nightshirt. "I- I wanted him dead," she whispered. "I- I prayed."

"Why?" he murmured back.

"I didn't want to marry him," she told him quietly. "And I knew that my parents would've insisted. But- but I'm not ready. I know- I know it was a horrible thing to wish for, but..." She dissolved into sobs.

"No, no, shh," he murmured, cradling her gently. "It's not your fault, love, you didn't do this. It's not your fault."

"It's all my fault," she insisted thickly. "I'm a horrible person."

"No, no, no," Jonathan said quickly. "No, you are the kindest, gentlest, sweetest person that I know, all right? Unless you were the one who went and murdered Earl, this was not your fault." He paused. "You didn't, did you?"

She laughed, sounding a bit surprised, like it was startled out of her. "No, Jon, I didn't."

"All right, then," he said. "You are not a horrible person. This was not your fault. Do not blame yourself."

"Jon..." Tara said quietly, and suddenly she was kissing him.

Jonathan pulled back. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"Kissing you," she replied, trying to kiss him again.

"No, no," Jonathan said, pushing her away slightly. "Tara..."

"What's wrong?" she asked. "You wanted to kiss me before."

"Chastely," Jonathan said, and became very much aware of how their bodies were situated. "You're on my bed, both of us in our nightclothes. This... this isn't very chaste, Tara."

Tara exhaled, running her fingers through her hair. "Jon, come on," she said. "Don't all men want a lady in their bed?"

"I... Well," Jonathan said, "not in the way you mean." He sighed. "Tara, your suitor was just murdered. I'm not going to lie with you now."

Tara frowned. "What, you don't want me now?"

"No, I- I don't want to lie with you," he said. "I want you, not to lie with you."

Tara breathed out, collapsing next to Jonathan on his bed. "All right," she murmured. Jonathan lay next to her, being careful to only let their fingers touch.

After a couple moments, Tara said, "If I had known, I would have insisted that you court me, rather than let my parents find someone for me."

"Known what?" Jonathan asked, looking over at her. She wasn't looking back.

"Known that you weren't, um," she bit her lip, "queer."

Jonathan jerked back. "What?"

"Which would have been fine! If you were!" Tara exclaimed quickly. "I would have supported you either way."

"Why... why did you think I was queer?" Jonathan asked, entirely awake now.

Tara shrugged the best she could lying down. "You don't have that much of an interest in ladies," she said. "The only person other than myself I've seen you interact with is Emmett, and he obviously has more than friendly intentions regarding you."

"He- he does?" Jonathan questioned, stopping to rethink all of his interactions with Emmett the butcher.

Tara nodded. "Oh, yes," she said.

Jonathan shook his head to clear it. "Well, I'm not queer, Tara," he said, hesitantly leaning in for a kiss.

She pressed their lips together, and they shared a brief, gentle kiss.

"Not queer," he murmured.

"I'll take your word for it," she replied with a smile.




"You've made a mistake."

Jonathan groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his face. How often was he going to be woken up?

"What?" he asked, opening his eyes to see Danielle perched on his writing desk in the corner.

"You've made a mistake," she repeated, her gaze flickering down to the way Tara is curled up around his body, dark hair splayed over his pillow.

"I haven't lain with her," he began to protest, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

"I know you haven't. That isn't what I speak of," she said. "I speak of what led her to come to your home."

"You mean... Earl?" he asked.

Danielle gave him an indecipherable look before vanishing.

Jonathan groaned, flopping back down onto his bed. Why did she have to be so cryptic?




"Jonathan!" Emmett said cheerfully as Jonathan entered the shop.

"Hello, Emmett," Jonathan said a bit warily. "How are you?"

"Great!" Emmett said, gesticulating enthusiastically with his butcher's knife. Jonathan automatically took a step back. "And you?"

"Not too bad." As long as you don't accidentally impale me with a cleaver. "I was wondering if I could get a couple beef steaks?"

"Sure thing!" Emmett said, moving back to go grab one of the pieces of meat hanging on the wall.

Jonathan watched as Emmett sliced the meat quickly but cleanly. He was obviously a practiced man, and Jonathan wasn't exactly thrilled to imagine what Emmett could do to a man if he lost whatever reason he had to end all of his sentences with an exclamation point.

"Here you are!"

Jonathan blinked and realized that Emmett was holding out a package of the meat.

"Thank you," he said, pulling out his money to pay. "How much?"

"Oh, on the house for you!" Emmett said cheerfully.

"What? No, no, let me pay-"

"It's quite all right!" Emmett told him. "Now be off with you, Jonathan, and go enjoy your day!"

Mildly unnerved, Jonathan exited the shop, blatant confusion probably gracing his features.




Jonathan found himself staring in the mirror a bit longer than necessary whenever he went to wash up.

He wished he didn't.

He wished he had them back.




"Are you sure you should be spending so much time with me?" Jonathan asked one day.

Tara shrugged, adjusting her hat. "Why not?"

"Well," Jonathan said carefully, "the man who everyone expected you to marry just died, and now you're spending all your time with another man."

"So?" Tara asked.

"Well, there are either two explanations," Jonathan said. "Either you're, erm, quick, or you had something to do with the- um, with the murder."

Tara blinked at him. "...oh."

"I- I mean no offense," Jonathan said hesitantly. "I know that neither are true, but if you're concerned with public appearance, then-"

Tara cut him off with a kiss.

"Damn public appearance," she whispered, and Jonathan couldn't help but laugh.




Jonathan ran into Emmett on his way home after a walk with Tara.

Literally ran into him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jonathan said, stopping to help Emmett up.

"No problem!" Emmett told him brightly, brushing the dirt off his trousers. "How are you today?"

"Well," Jonathan answered. "You?"

"I'm wonderful!" Emmett said. "Say, Jonathan, I'm having a dinner party tomorrow night. It would be excellent if you could attend!"

"Well..." Jonathan said hesitantly.

"You can bring a guest, if you'd like!" Emmett offered.

"...all right," Jonathan said. It would probably do Tara good to be around other people, since she hadn't interacted with anyone other than Jonathan after Earl's death.

"Brilliant!" Emmett chirped. "Well, I must be off, but I'll see you around!" He practically skipped away, waving goodbye along the way.

Jonathan waved back halfheartedly, utterly bewildered.




"I don't know about this, Jon," Tara said hesitantly as he knocked on Emmett's front door.

"It'll be fun," Jonathan told her.

"I don't know," Tara said again. "I don't know if I'll be welcome."

"Why wouldn't you be?" Jonathan asked, but the door opened before Tara could answer.

"Jonathan!" Emmett said cheerfully. "And Tara! Come in, come in!" He stepped back to let them both inside.

Time went by quickly, Jonathan found. He didn't know the other people there well, but he'd recognized them from around the town. Dinner was delicious, and Jonathan found himself enjoying his time much more than he thought he would.

He was engaged in a good-natured debate with another man he had just met when he realized that Tara had excused herself to use the restroom nearly forty-five minutes ago.

"Excuse me," he said, standing up. "I'm just going to check on my- my friend."

The man nodded, turning to someone else.

Jonathan fought down any anxiety bubbling up. He was fine. Fantastic, even. He'd managed to kill Earl before Tara had the need to kill herself. They were going to be great. He'd be able to live with her, love her for the rest of this life.

Nothing was going to go wrong.

"Tara?" Jonathan called, knocking on the door. There was no answer. "Tara?"

He waited a moment was about to knock again when he heard a thump.

"Tara? Are you all right?" He tried to open the door. "Tara?"

Jonathan heard some scuffling on the other side, and the door finally opened.

"Emmett?" he said, confused. "Where- where's Tara?"

He could have sworn that Emmett's eyes were darker than normal before he looked up, but he brushed that off to lighting.

"I don't know," Emmett said, and his voice sounded... different. "Sorry."

"She said she was going to use the restroom forty-five minutes ago," Jonathan said. "I don't know where else she would've..." He trailed off when he realized he could smell blood.

"What's wrong?" Emmett asked, voice still off, and Jonathan regarded him for the second time in greater depth. Emmett's clothes were disheveled and hair mussed, and Jonathan could see a couple scratch marks on his arm.

And it dawned on him.

"What did you do?" Jonathan demanded lowly. "Where is she?"

"I don't know what..." Emmett began, but stopped when he realized that Jonathan wasn't buying it.

"Where is she?" Jonathan repeated, slowly stepping forward and forcing Emmett further back.

"Look, Jonathan-"

"WHERE IS SHE?!"

Emmett stopped. "Guess," he said softly.

Jonathan studied him for a moment. "Eyal," he said quietly.

Emmett smiled slowly. "Yes."

"Did- did you just take this vessel?" Jonathan asked, already knowing the answer. "Or did I..."

"No," Emmett said. "No, I was always in this vessel. You killed the wrong man, Jonathan. Earl Abbott was simply a meek little manager of an inn. You took an innocent life, and the only reason you weren't dragged back down to Hell is that you're already damned."

Hissing, Jonathan let his eyes go black as he grabbed Emmett's shirt and threw him backwards.

"Don't take out all your self-hatred out on me, Jonathan," Emmett said as he blinked up at Jonathan, who was advancing on him. "Save some of that for yourself."

"Where is she?" Jonathan demanded, ignoring him.

"Have you gone blind in your old age?" Emmett asked, sneering. "She's right there."

Jonathan looked over to see that Tara was, in fact, right there. She was collapsed on the tile floor, looking lifeless.

"Did- did you kill her?" he gasped.

Emmett shook his head. "No, sir," he said.

"What did you do to her?" Jonathan asked, noticing that her dress had been ripped. "What did you do?"

"Guess," Emmett said quietly.

Jonathan punched him in the throat.

He ignored Emmett's soft cries of pain as he continued to beat him brutally. He punched, kicked, slapped, and only stopped when he heard Tara softly murmur, "Jon?"

Jonathan immediately paused, looking up to see Tara sitting up, looking frightened.

"Wha- what's going on? What are you doing?" she asked, looking dazed.

"Tara," he whispered. "Tara. How- how do you feel?"

"I..." She looked down at Emmett, who was lying underneath Jonathan and covered in his own blood. "He- he hurt me."

"I know," Jonathan said softly. "I'm so sorry, Tara."

"He hurt me," she repeated, pulling her legs up to her chest.

"I know," Jonathan said again, and punched Emmett again.

"Stop," Tara said, holding her hand out. "I... stop. Please."

Jonathan paused.

"Just- just get me out of here," Tara murmured. "Don't kill him. Please."

"All right," Jonathan said quietly, climbing off of Emmett. "Come on, Tara," he said, helping her stand. "Let's go get our coats, and we'll leave, all right?"

"All right," she mumbled, clinging to his arm.

Jonathan wanted to cry. This was all wrong.




"I'm not telling anyone, Jon," Tara said firmly. "No one."

"Tara, please," Jonathan pleaded. "That man deserves punishment."

"You punished him with your fists," Tara murmured.

"That's not enough."

"What are you expecting, then!?" Tara suddenly shouted. "I'm just a woman, Jonathan, an unmarried woman! No judge is going to severely punish a man for taking a woman who is nearing the end of her years prime for marriage! It's just going to be shame, Jon, with barely a sentence for my attacker. I don't- I don't want..."

"Oh, love," Jonathan whispered, letting her sob into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"S'not your fault."

"I know," Jonathan said quietly. "But I'm still sorry."



Jonathan was terrified.

Tara wasn't well, he could see that easily. She was barely responsive, barely awake, barely alive.

He missed her.



"Tara," Jonathan said carefully one day, "do you think that maybe we could... go out? Maybe to a play or for a walk?"

Tara shook her head. "No. I'm fine."

"Tara," Jonathan said, sitting down next to her. "You- you're barely here. You're so sad. I... What can I do to make you happy?"

Tara shrugged. "I'm fine," she said quietly.

"You're not fine."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"I am."

"You're not."

"I am."

"YOU'RE NOT!"

They both jumped at Jonathan's shout.

"I- sorry," he murmured. "But- but dammit, Tara, you're not fine. I just want you to be happy."

She sighed, looking up at him.

"I can't," she said softly, gray eyes melancholy. "I can't be happy. I'm sorry."




"Tara," Jonathan said slowly. "Tara, I need you to step away from the ledge. Please."

"You're a monster," she whispered, and Jonathan felt her words hit him as physical blows. "You- you killed Earl. You would've killed Emmett, if I hadn't stopped you."

"Tara, please, you have to listen to me," Jonathan begged. "I thought he was someone else. I'm sorry."

"How do you sleep at night?" Tara asked quietly. "Knowing you've murdered an innocent man."

"You wanted him dead too," Jonathan bit out, and immediately regretted it when he saw Tara's facial expression flutter shut. "Tara, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It's all right," Tara said quietly, turning back to the rushing water beneath. "You're right. I wanted him dead. I'm horrible."

"You're not horrible."

"I'm horrible," Tara repeated. "I'm awful. And Jon? I'm in love with you." She didn't look back. "But I don't forgive you."

"Tara, wait, no, please-" Jonathan could feel his heart in his throat as he began to dash to where Tara was standing, but it was too late.

She was gone.




Jonathan barely stopped himself from vaulting over the side of the bridge after her.

Instead, he stayed on the ledge, staring at the black, rushing water.

He didn't know how long he stayed there without thinking, without feeling.




"You killed her."

Emmett sighed, setting his cleaver down. "Not this again, Jonathan."

"You killed her," Jonathan said again, stepping forward. "You killed her."

"You know I didn't, Jon," Emmett said calmly. "Now. I need you to put your gun down."

Jonathan blinked, realizing that he'd pulled out the gun he had brought and was brandishing it like a madman.

"No," he said, but he did stop waving it around.

"What do you want, Jonathan?" Emmett asked. "To kill me again? You know this will all just happen again. And again. And again."

Jonathan raised the gun. "And what's wrong with a fresh start?" he asked, and pulled the trigger.




lost in time



Netherlands, 1914. Tess drowned herself. Julian threw Edik out a building onto concrete.




Korea, 1931. Tae Jung stabbed herself through the heart. Jae-Hwa beat Eisaku until the other man's heart stopped beating.



Chile, 1947. Thiare hung herself from a tree branch. Joaquin shot Esteban in the throat.





i'll be your disaster (everybody run)



Jackson was exhausted.

"Why the long face, pal?"

He looked up to see Edwin standing next to where he was sitting. He considered getting upset, but decided against it. He was too tired to do much of anything.

"May I sit?" Edwin asked pleasantly. Jackson didn't agree, but he didn't say no, so Edwin sat down.

They were both quiet for a bit before Edwin said, "Fresh starts aren't really all what they're hyped up to be, huh?"

Jackson grunted, running fingers through his own vermillion colored hair.

"Where's- you know, Taryn?" Edwin asked. "Taryn, right?"

"Taryn," Jackson confirmed. "I don't know where she is."

Edwin gave him a confused look. "You don't know?" he questioned. "Aren't you in love with her?"

"Yes," Jackson said, "but she doesn't want to see me right now."

Edwin nodded slowly. "Women, huh?" He stretched, yawning loudly and letting his knee bump against Jackson's.

Jackson nodded, slightly confused.

"So, mate," Edwin said, "you wanna get something to eat?"



Jackson didn't know how, but somehow he and Edwin became what could be classified as friends.

They went out to eat together, watched films, went to football games. Jackson found himself enjoying the other man's company, although he had no idea why.

"I was thinking," Edwin said as soon as Jackson closed the front door, "that maybe we could go see this new film called The Set after lunch? It's about two guys-"

"What are we doing, Edwin?" Jackson interrupted.

Edwin paused, cocking his head. "What do you mean?"

"What are we-" Jackson gestured back and forth between himself and Edwin, "doing? Going to the cinema, to football matches, to dinner together? What are we doing?"

Edwin sighed. "You haven't figured it out yet?" At Jackson's blank expression, he said, "I have a very unelaborate plan to get into your pants, Jackie."

Jackson blinked. "...what? What do you mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," Edwin said.

Jackson thought about that for couple moments.

"You're in love with me," he realized.

"No. I have lust for you, Jackson," Edwin murmured. "Don't get the two confused, as they're quite different."

Jackson swallowed. "I don't have lust for you," he told him.

"You have something, though," Edwin said, studying him carefully. "Don't you? Perhaps unrequited, misplaced... love?" When Jackson flinched just slightly, Edwin stepped forward with a grin on his lips. "I knew it."

Before Jackson knew what was happening, Edwin was pressing him up against the wall and forcing his mouth open with his tongue.

"You kiss like a human," Edwin murmured, pulling back for a moment.

"I know," Joshua breathed back. "So do you."

Edwin grinned slyly at him for a moment before leaning back in and pressing their mouths together. Jackson went along with it, not entirely certain of what was happening. Edwin grunted into their kiss, and Jackson wondered if he should make some kind of moan too.

Edwin moved his hand between Jackson's legs and paused, pulling back with a frown.

"Why aren't you hard?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What?" Jackson asked, pulling out of Edwin's touch.

"You're not hard," Edwin told him.

"I'm not what?"

"Hard." At Jackson's blank expression, Edwin sighed and grabbed his hand. Jackson tried to jerk it back when Edwin placed it over his crotch, but the other held tight. "See? My dick's hard. Yours isn't."

Jackson managed to get his hand back. "I don't know."

"Don't you wank off?" Edwin asked. At Jackson's puzzled expression, Edwin said, "You know, wrap your hand around your dick and move your hand until you orgasm?"

"...what?"

Edwin rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I..." Jackson said, at a loss for words.

"Here," Edwin said, unbuckling his own belt and unzipping his pants. "I'll show you."

Jackson yelped, covering his eyes. "Wha- what are you doing?"

"Stop covering your eyes, you idiot," Edwin snorted, and hesitantly, Jackson uncovered his eyes. Edwin had his penis out, and was slowly running his palm up and down.

"Wha- wha- what are you doing?" Jackson asked, focusing on Edwin's face.

"Jerking off," Edwin said easily. "You've never done this?"

Jackson shook his head quickly. "No, no," he said. "P-please stop."

"Why?" Edwin said, looking vaguely amused.

"You- you're making me uncomfortable," Jackson said, looking away.

Edwin sighed, and Jackson heard the sound of fabric on fabric and a zipper.

"There," Edwin said, and Jackson looked back. "I'm decent and mildly turned on right now. Do you want to see that movie or not?"

Jackson considered that. "Wash your hands first."




"Do you miss them?"

Jackson looked over from where he was lying on his stomach on the bed to see Edwin standing there wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wings, dark, spiny, blood-colored wings were spread in all their glory.

"Miss what?" Jackson asked, being deliberately dense.

"You know," Edwin said, fluttering his pinions slightly. "Your wings. Do you miss them?"

Jackson looked him in the eye. "Of course I do," he said quietly.




"Stop talking to me, Jack," Taryn said with a sigh as she scanned his records.

"Why?" Jackson asked as he pulled out his wallet.

"I know you're not actually interested," she said dryly. "And I have no interest in being your beard."

Jackson blinked. "My what?"

"Your beard," Taryn repeated. "I know you're gay, Jack. I'm interested in being your friend, but I don't think you want me for that."

Jackson spluttered. "Wha- I'm not gay!" He paused. "Oh, um. Wait."

Taryn rolled her eyes.

"No, no, I like girls!" he insisted. "Really!"

"When have you last kissed a girl, Jack?"

He thought about that for a moment. "1892."

She stared at him. "It's 1970. How old are you?"

Shit. "Uh. Twenty-three."

"So," Taryn said slowly, "Jack. Have you ever kissed a girl?"

In this life? "Um. No."

"Have you ever kissed a boy?"

"...yes."

At her sigh, Jackson found himself protesting, "That doesn't make me gay!" She still looked skeptical. "He kissed me first," he muttered.

Taryn exhaled. "I'm totally down with being friends," she said quietly. "But I don't think you're interested in that. Are you?" He shook his head. "Then I'm not interested in anything having to do with you, Jack. I'm sorry."




Edwin had barely closed the door when Jackson pushed him up against the wall and captured the other man's mouth with his.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Edwin said, wriggling out of Jackson's hold. "What-" he paused to wipe Jackson's spit out of his mouth, "what are you doing?"

"Kissing you," Jackson said impatiently, and tried to resume.

"Hold on, hold on," Edwin said, and Jackson let out an exasperated sigh. "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you," Jackson repeated. "What about this aren't you getting?"

"I thought you didn't like... touching."

Jackson stared at him for a moment, kind of shocked that Edwin remembered that.

"...as long as you don't try to touch... anything, I'll be fine," he said finally, and at Edwin's nod, they kissed again.




"Well, I've never done that before."

Jackson looked over at Edwin. "Done what?"

"Slept in the same bed as someone without sex," Edwin explained.

"Oh," Jackson said, for lack of anything better to say.

Edwin snorted a little, stretching out on the bed, and for the first time Jackson registered that Edwin really was beautiful. He had light hair and tanned skin and a mischievous, easy smile of white teeth. Jackson could see the appeal.

Edwin noticed him looking and asked, "Like what you see?" with a smirk.

"Yes," Jackson said honestly, and Edwin paused, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Do you?" he asked.

"Yes," Jackson said again. "Your vessel is aesthetically pleasing. It's beautiful, really."

Edwin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But you don't like it in an 'I want to bang you' kind of way."

Jackson blinked. "Well. No."

"See, that's where something went wrong," Edwin said. "You aren't sexually attracted to anyone. Are you?"

Jackson pulled his legs up to his chest. "I..."

"I know you aren't," Edwin said quietly. "And you've never been, have you?"

Jackson slowly shook his head. "No. No, I've never been," he whispered.

Edwin was silent for a moment before cupping Jackson's cheek and kissing him fiercely.

Jackson went along with it. Kissing didn't really do much for him, none of the fireworks, butterflies, heart-pounding stuff, but he appreciated the drive behind it.

It was only when Edwin pushed Jackson down onto the bed and straddled his hips was when he broke their kiss.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked.

"Shh," Edwin murmured, grinding down on Jackson's crotch. "Relax, Jackie boy. I'm just showing you what it's like."

"N-no," Jackson said, beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. "No. I don't want you to."

"Everyone wants to get off," Edwin told him.

"I don't," Jackson said, feeling something like... panic? caught in his throat. "I don't, Edwin, there's a reason I've never- never did what you tried to show me the other day, please stop touching me, I'm okay with kissing, I like kissing, but please, please stop-"

"You don't mean that," Edwin told him, sliding his hands under Jackson's shirt. "There's something wrong with you, something that's telling you that you don't want this. But you do. Everyone does."

"I- I don't," Jackson insisted, trying to squirm out of Edwin's hands. "I don't, really-"

"Shh," Edwin murmured, leaning down and kissing him. His hands were getting adventurous, and Jackson felt shaky.

"Stop," he whispered.

"You don't mean that."

"I do. Stop. Please."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop. Please. Stop this."

"You want this. You're just too broken to realize."

"I'm not broken. Now stop. Please."

"No, Jack. Not until you realize what you've been missing."

Jackson felt a hand worm its way beneath his underwear, and suddenly felt himself bucking Edwin off.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" he heard someone scream. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" The voice was hoarse and guttural and terrified, and with a jolt, Jackson realized that the voice was his.

Edwin was staring at him with wide eyes. "...all right, mate, sorry," he said, raising his hands. "Not touching you. See?"

Jonathan waited a few moments to catch his breath before he said, "Yeah. I see."



"Hey."

Jackson looked up to see Taryn sitting down next to him on the park bench.

"Hi," he said cautiously.

"Haven't seen you in a while," she commented.

"You told me to stop talking to you," he mumbled.

"I didn't think you'd give in so quickly," she said. They're both quiet for a moment. "Hey, um. Are you all right?"

And to Jackson's complete embarrassment, he turned into a blubbering mess right there.



Jackson had become a gay pet.

It wasn't exactly what he set out to be in the year 983 BC, but it was something, at least.

He was dragged to girly movies and clothing boutiques and nail salons, and while he didn't mind any of those things, he would've appreciated not being labeled as "gay." Because he wasn't.

But he enjoyed spending time with Taryn, however, and sacrificed comfort a lot just so he could stay with her.

"So," Taryn said as she pulled a floral shirt with print that read Menelvagor off of the clothing rack, "boys."

"What about them?" Jackson asked warily.

"Got one?" she said as she held the shirt up to herself and peered into a nearby mirror. "Oh, that's cute."

"Yeah, it is," Jackson agreed. "Oh, and no. I don't. Have a boy, I mean."

Taryn raised an eyebrow. "Who was that last guy you were dating?"

Jackson shifted uncomfortably. "What makes you think I was last dating a guy?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Who else were you crying over?"

He sighed. "His name was Edwin."

"Edwin," Taryn repeated, rolling the name around in her mouth. "He sounds like an asshole."

Jackson had to crack a smile at that. "He is," he told her.

"Knew it," she said as she held the shirt she picked out up. "So this shirt. Yea or nay?"

"Yea," Jackson said immediately. "Definitely yea."

Taryn smiled at him. "Thank you," she said, setting the shirt on her arm where she had a skirt resting too.

Jackson didn't mind shopping. He kind of liked it, really. He like nail salons too, as long as he was able to ignore the odd looks from the women there as his toenails were painted pretty colors.

No, he didn't quite mind being Taryn's gay pet. He just resigned himself to being extra straight in his next life.




"So."

"So," Jackson agreed.

"Do we say goodbye here?" Edwin asked.

"I think so, yes," Jackson told him.

Edwin nodded. "I'm sorry that this-" he gestures to himself, then Jackson, "couldn't work."

Jackson sighed. "I still don't really understand why it couldn't."

Edwin looked at him carefully. "Jackson, I am not in love with you," he said quietly. "I have never been in love with anyone. I cannot be in love."

Jackson nodded slowly. "And I have never had lust for anyone."

"Yes. That is where it doesn't work," Edwin said quietly. "You're in love with me. I have lust for you. You don't have lust for me. I am not in love with you. The only way we could ever work is just as friends, but you know that can never happen, right? We will never be satisfied with just friendship."

Jackson nodded. "I know."

"Okay, then," Edwin said, and put his hand out. "I'll see you around, then."

Jackson shook it. "I'll see you around," he agreed.



Jackson did see Edwin a month or two later, after walking in on Taryn accidentally falling into a bathtub full of water while holding her blowdryer during an attempt to escape Edwin's advances.

He killed Edwin, right then and there, since it seemed like the thing to do.

He then killed himself. It also seemed like the thing to do.





as bad as someone else (won't look down)



Jordan was uncomfortable.

Jordan didn't have enough time to choose a vessel that would be most comfortable. Pressed for time, pressed for choices.

She sighed, resigning herself to this vessel, this body. It would have to do.



"Hi."

"Hello," Jordan said cautiously.

"I'm Tyra," a fair-haired girl said with a smile, and Jordan could feel that pull in her chest.

Oh, fun. Talia still reincarnated as a girl.

"Jordan," she said, holding her hand out.

Tyra grabbed her hand and folded it into a fist, rapping hers again Jordan's.

"Nice to meet you, Jordan," she said with a grin, and Jordan found herself smiling back.




Jordan and Tyra became fast friends. They both went to the same shitty high school. Tyra was absolutely fantastic at imitations of their teachers, and Jordan thought that this was the most lighthearted they'd ever been. No marriages, no wars, no boys.

Jordan decided it was kind of a nice change from a male body. There were plenty of things to complain about, but she liked her thin hands and gentle curves and soft features.

Tyra laughed, hair flying when she threw her head back, and Doc Martens kicking up.

"You're cute," she told Jordan with a grin, green eyes glinting.

"You're cuter," Jordan replied honestly.

Tyra's smile turned slightly softer. "Thanks, Dan."

Jordan nodded, stretching out on the grass they were lying on. She raised her hands and peered at them. At least this vessel had dark skin like Jephtah's. She'd missed that.

"Whatcha doing?" Tyra asked.

"Mm?" Jordan realized that she'd been staring at her own hands for a bit longer than explainable. "Oh. Just thinking."

"Well, think about this," Tyra said. "A sequel to Surf Nazis Must Die."

"No," Jordan gasped, horrified.

Tyra laughed at her horrified expression. "I heard a rumor..."

"No, no, no," Jordan said, shaking her head rapidly. "No, not possible."

"Hey, hey," Tyra said, raising her hands defensively. "Don't shoot the messenger."

Jordan sighed. "No one had better make a sequel."

"It would be hilarious."

"I think the word you meant was horrible."




"So," Tyra said as they shared a soda, "ever shoplifted?"

Jordan's eyebrows shot up. "Sorry?"

"Shoplifted," she repeated.

"No!" Jordan said, sounding more scandalized than she meant to.

Tyra snorted. "Come on," she said, draining the last of their Coke and tossing it to the side. "Let me show you."

"No," Jordan tried to protest, but found herself trailing after the blonde girl.

Tyra strolled into a convenience store like she owned it, tossing some joke over her shoulder that Jordan was too nervous to catch. She picked up a can of hairspray and examined it before putting it back.

"What do you want?" she asked, turning to Jordan.

"What?"

"What do you want?" Tyra repeated.

"Nothing!" Jordan said.

"Everyone wants something, Dan," Tyra said, looking oddly serious for a moment. Then reverting back to her normal carefree expression, she says, "I've got my eye on that bottle of red polish right there," and gestures with a quick jerk of her head.

Jordan shivered. Thou shalt not steal...

"It's stealing, Tyra," she hissed.

"I'm aware," Tyra said looking amused.

"But- but stealing is bad," Jordan said emphatically.

"So?" Tyra challenged, which made Jordan pause.

"Well... well it's bad," she tried.

Tyra raised an eyebrow. "Look how much I care."

Jordan ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know..."

"Come on," Tyra said. "Live a little, Dan." Then, so quickly that Jordan might be able to pretend it didn't happen, she kissed Jordan on the corner of her mouth before heading off in the direction of the nail polish she wanted.

Jordan sighed and followed her.




Slowly, Jordan gradually accumulated more nail polish and hair accessories and other trinkets than she ever really needed. She didn't exactly enjoy shoplifting, didn't seem to get off on it in the way Tyra seemed to, but she liked impressing Tyra, who'd kiss her before every grab.

They didn't talk about the kisses. Jordan got the impression that Tyra didn't want to, and she was more than happy to let Tyra pretend Jordan didn't care. She did, though. She liked the kisses, and she kind of wanted to kiss more, maybe not always before she took something off a shelf.

"Ready?" Tyra whispered as she opened the door to the shop.

Jordan nodded. "Ready."

Tyra leaned in to kiss her, but Jordan leaned in too, and when their lips collided, Jordan kissed back.

Tyra pulled back with wide eyes. Jordan didn't waste time thinking about how she might've just messed everything up and instead just offered Tyra a quick smile before ducking into the shop.

As soon as Jordan strolled out of the store, Tyra tugged her to the side and kissed her hard on the lips.




"So," Jordan said as she pulled back, breaking their kiss, "where do we go from here?"

They were lying on their back on the grass in the park, kissing lazily between swigs of soda that Jordan was pretty sure was spiked.

Tyra shrugged. "I don't know. Do we have to go?"

Jordan laughed, running her fingers through Tyra's long, soft hair. "No," she murmured. "No, we don't have to go."

"Good," Tyra said, pale blue eyes fluttering shut. "I don't ever want to leave."




Life went on.

School ended, and they both hadn't applied to any colleges. Tyra had said to her, eyes red-rimmed and words slightly slurred, that she could make it without a fancy college degree. That she was smart enough to make it on her own.

Then she passed out, head on Jordan's lap, and Jordan didn't really know what to think.

She just turned Tyra on her side so she wouldn't choke on her own vomit and let her rest.




"Ty," Jordan said as Tyra clambered drunkenly into her bedroom for the fifth night in a row, "I don't think this is very healthy."

"Who are you, my momma?" the other girl slurred, burrowing into Jordan's duvet.

"No," Jordan said, "but I am worried about you."

Tyra chuckled a little. "Don' worry 'bout me, Dan," she murmured. "I'll be fine."

"I don't know," Jordan said worriedly as she pulled the blankets a little higher over Tyra's body. "You're like a car headed for a brick wall, Ty."

"Thanks, hon."

"No, really," Jordan said. "You're going to crash, and it's not going to be pretty."

"Mm," the other girl said, sounding disinterested.

"Tyra," Jordan said softly, "I'm really worried."

"Don' be," Tyra said, turning over and cupping Jordan's cheek with her hand. "Don' be worried, babe. I'm gonna be jus' fine. I am fine." She tugs Jordan's head down for a kiss. "I love you."

Jordan blinked. They'd never mentioned love to each other before.

"...I love you too," she said belatedly.

Tyra smiled as she rolled over and buried her head under Jordan's pillow. "I know."




Everything crashed down when Tyra showed up one night, clothes torn and her whole body shaking.

"God, Tyra," Jordan gasped, helping Tyra onto her bed. "What happened?"

Tyra's hands are trembling as she reaches out and takes Jordan's.

"I was too drunk," she whispered. "I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry."

Jordan felt her blood run cold as she realized that it was happening again. It was all happening again.

"Who was it?" she murmured, squeezing Tyra's hands. "Who?"

"Remember Eli from chem?" Tyra said quietly. "At school?"

Jordan nodded slowly. "Oh, Tyra."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's not your fault," Jordan assured her, pulling her in for a hug. "Oh, Lord, Tyra, it's not your fault."

"I couldn't stop him," Tyra mumbled, burying her head in Jordan's shoulder.

"I know," Jordan murmured. "I know. I'm so sorry."




Tyra didn't go out the next night.

She stayed curled up in Jordan's bed, alternating between sleeping and just thinking. Jordan would usually curl up with her, taking breaks only to go to her job or to get food that neither of them would eat.

Tyra didn't really do anything.




Jordan came back from her job bagging groceries at a supermarket to find Tyra sitting up on her bed, looking more animated than she had ever since she came back that one night.

"Tyra?" Jordan said as she pulled her jacket off. "You all right?"

"Mm?" Tyra turned to her, and Jordan blinked in confusion when she saw Tyra's glazed, unfocused eyes. "Hey, Dan."

"Tyra? Are you- are you high?" Jordan asked carefully, stepping forward and sitting down next to Tyra.

"Uh? May- maybe a little," Tyra said, sounding a little loopy.

"What did you take?" Jordan asked, looking around.

"Uh... dunno," Tyra said. "Prob-ly some sorta sed- seda- um-"

"Sedative?" Jordan offered, and Tyra nodded.

"Yeah. That," she said, flopping back onto Jordan's bed.

Jordan hesitantly rubbed Tyra's leg. "I- I think you need help, Tyra." The other girl didn't respond. "You need help. This- what you've been doing- isn't healthy. I'm really worried about you. I think you're self-destructive, and it's hurting me. And I- Tyra? Are you listening to me?"

She looked closer, only to realize that Tyra had fallen asleep. Jordan sighed, pulling the blankets up over her friend.




Tyra seemed to be on a constant high. Jordan had no idea where she was getting whatever she was using, but she seemed to have an endless supply of it.

Jordan was walking home one night when she saw someone standing on the ledge of a bridge. She wandered over, curious, and stopped in horror when she realized that it was Tyra.

"Tyra?" she called out. "What- what are you doing?"

"Shh," Tyra said, not looking back. She looked wrecked, blonde hair a mess and clothes rumpled. "I'm thinking."

"What about?" Jordan said carefully, slowly stepping closer.

"Don't get too close," Tyra said warningly, and Jordan stopped.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to fly," Tyra said, blonde hair blowing in the wind. "All I have to do is step off and fly away..."

"Humans can't fly, Tyra," Jordan said softly.

Tyra turned hollow eyes to her. "Why not?" she asked before looking back down at the busy street beneath her. "What's holding me down?"

"Tyra, please-"

"Nothing," she breathed. "Nothing at all. Can't you feel it, Dan? I'm going to fly away from here. I'm going to get away from everything. All I have to do is spread my wings..."

Jordan viciously wiped away a couple tears that had made their way down her cheeks.

"You don't have wings, Tyra," she whispered.

"I do. I can feel them." Tyra looked over at Jordan, who was unsettled by the utterly serene expression on her face. "Don't you ever feel wings, Dan? On your back? A weight that isn't there, but you know it is?"

"No," Jordan lied. "No, Tyra, I don't. We don't have wings. Tyra, if you jump, you're just going to... you're not going to fly."

"How do you know?" Tyra asked, looking up to the sky. "Look, Jordan, that's Bellatrix. And Betelgeuse," she said, pointing. "Look at the stars. I... I can touch them."

"Tyra," Jordan said desperately. "Please step back. Please step down. I love you, Tyra, I love you so damn much and I need you to come back, you can fly away some other time, I promise..."

Tyra didn't appear to hear her. "All I have to do is spread my wings..."

"Tyra. No, no, no no no get back here, Tyra, plea- TYRA!"

Jordan watched in horror as Tyra spread her arms and...

And fell.




Jordan screamed as she rushed towards the ledge. Tyra had managed to turn onto her back as she fell, and there was just enough light to see that her pale blue eyes looked completely peaceful despite her broken body and blood haloed around her head.

She screamed until her voice ran hoarse, and then she turned around and ran.




"I'm gonna fucking kill you," she growled as she vaulted into Eli's bedroom.

Eli blinked, looking up from the book he was reading. "Who are- Jordan? What are you doing here?"

Jordan stared at him until something seemed to click in his mind.

"Oh!" Eli said, eyes widening. He studied Jordan for a moment before smirking. "Well, don't you look pretty."

Jordan scowled at him. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, you fucking rapist piece of shit."

"Well," Eli said slowly, closing his book and setting it down carefully by his bed. "I think I have the advantage here."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well," Eli said again, "you have a female vessel."

"So?"

"Well, you're wea-"

He was cut off when Jordan launched herself at him.

"I am not weak," she hissed, eyes flashing black as she wrapped her fingers around his throat. "I am not. Don't you ever accuse me of being so again."

He tried to grab at her, but she had pinned his arms to his bed with her legs.

"I am not weak," Jordan snarled.

Eli managed to draw a gasp of breath. "Don't tell me you're jealous of her," he choked out. "That I fucked her and not you. Don't worry about that, hon. Honestly, I pretended she was you."

Jordan spat out some ash onto his face before snapping his neck.

"I am not weak," she said to the body, "and I am not jealous."