stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

That bloom of genuine unbidden surprise found his features, it was first time she saw that expression truly dance across his face. It was only a matter of time, she truly had a way of surprising people. That was Harley for you, crashing through the walls of expectation like she was some kind of demolition expert. Just when you thought you had her pegged she spun a 180 and did the exact opposite, shattering those assumptions. The spitfire perhaps, preferred it that way, she hardly like the social constructs society put people within. Like they could stuff everyone in neat little boxes, not Harley, there was no one box that could contain her. It was quite clear from early on she would never be one of those cookie cutter people with those cookie cutter dreams and those cookie cutter goals. It was a wonder she hadn't chased off the few people she did have in her life, perhaps with all that was meant to come, it was only a matter of time.

That singular declaration about wanting to hear the fae's story one day, driven from a place of curiosity and genuine intrigue. One day, he claimed he would, whether that was a load of shit or not was yet to be determined. But one thing that was for certain, that sharp minded force of nature would not be so quick to let him forget it. So long as he kept randomly appearing like a mysterious phantom fae, materializing in the strangest places. It was a peculiar thing to consider and yet she hardly lingers on the thought of it, before he mentions his age. That unhindered surprise to took over her then, then it shifted to that you are fucking with me face. "No you're not." She finally challenges, scrunching up her face in that skeptical fashion, not quite sure she believed her own words. It lacked that flare of fire she so carefully nurtures within her. There was part of her that seems a little taken aback, but whenever the old ones tell you their age it seems no less shocking, at least when they wear the mask of youth. Regardless, she seems to stare at his face like for what seems like a long time, looking for inkling, a worn kink in that chain that indicated that he was lying, a tell within his youthful skin. What she was looking for was hardly known. "You don't feel 2000 years old... but I suppose nothing should surprise me when it comes to the teleporting, future telling fairy." Not that she would have even the faintest clue was 2000 years felt like. "But if you happen to be fucking with my head.. and scare me off from hearing that story, you will need to work a lot harder than that, I do not scare easily. I do not care how long it takes." She shrugs, determined as always, as boldness stirs within those vibrant eyes, as if waiting for the reveal of his joke. If only she knew just how long a story like that would take.

But as it would have it, Matteo's demeanor seemed to shift when his hand pulled away, fiddling with, of all things with the crucifix at his neck. It was like his mind were drifting to some far-off place, his face that once possessed such an impish light seemed to fade into something that could only be described as somber. The very epitome of a man who wore a heavy crown upon his head. Perhaps in that moment he let her see more than even he had realized and yet as she tugs him out of that reverie all the same. The very notes of her voice reached out then as she asked almost drily what the hell karma/fate whatever was pulling their goddamn strings what it was waiting for? There was a strength within her in that moment, that look she got with any challenge that got in her way. "I think there needs to be a fire lit under their ass.." She nodded resolutely. She did have a way of making things happen, perhaps one could call it a certain skillset if you will. Good or bad, she hardly was content to allow life to remain stagnant and she would forever be that catalyst.

It was with a flash of that grin that he began placing those photographs on that table, seeming to arrange them in a pecking order. From highest ranking, Risque the kitten queen herself to lowest, where the waitstaff lingered and the vampire's brother which so provoked that that shift in her once steely demeanor.

Harley knew there was a fat chance that she would be blissfully forgotten about since she had her fun. His sigh and the filled shot glass seemed to be an indication of that answer she truly already knew already. The twisting feeling in her gut was no less present even still as as her mind started to wonder about who she would become by the end of all of this. With a fluid movement she downed that shot with practiced ease quick to placate those feelings for now, how she enjoyed the pleasant warmth it offered her insides. She wasn't sure if she could agree with him about hope, her own mind churning nearly tumultuously at the thought. "Hope is no better than fate.. It is a liar with a pretty face and fates the bitch that stabs you in the back when you least expect it. As for regrets.. I regret nothing... except maybe once.. but that doesn't count.... What I'm saying is.. I will do what I need to do. I'm ready to embrace what's to come.. Even if that means I have to become something else to do it." Whatever crazy shit that meant, she would forge herself into a hardened weapon surrounded by her wrath and inner strength, to make her as near indestructible as one person could be.. But at what cost? What would she have to become to defeat her monsters.. only to look around to find herself in an empty room all alone, the final shards of who she was lost in pulverized ruin.

That was when they turned their attention on Risque's brother, how she despised even looking at that very face made her instantly want to burn that photograph, pettiness be damned. Her face grew distant as if sucking every last emotion she had into herself. That coldness that washed over her, even after all this time was unmistakable. That frown all but lingering while those toxic memories surge within her very soul like wave after pelting wave throwing her against the perilous rocks of her own mind. It felt almost suffocating like she could drown within it if she let it. It was him, the first straw that broke long ago, allowing piece by piece of her life dismantle right before her very eyes without a hope in hell to do anything to stop it. At least for her, this was how it started for her. Disgust welled within her so potently, disgust for herself and at that monster. He mentions Risque's jealousy and she near barked out a bitter laugh. "Your telling me... I saw it first hand on more than one occasion. I could tell you things that would surprise you to your very core. But at least she is predictable. He is not." She sounded almost monotone as if she were on autopilot. She was so young then, hindsight was always 20/20 when shit hits the fan. "I don't have a clue where he is holed up now, he showed up here over a year ago, but yours truly ran him out of town. He could be anywhere, he has dealings all over the place." She said with a shrug, remembering how Risque found her then too. She remembered how she hunted her down and brought her to him, how she tried to force a choice to turn her into a vampire. How they fought, she thought they were going to rip each other limb from limb and in that chaos between siblings she was able to escape. It was the last time she heard from either of them until Risque came calling recently. There was so much story to tell and yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. "I saw her key his car because of me though." There was a bitter quirk upon her lips formed. Oh how she wished that look upon his face was the photograph he had of him then. "Lets just say, it didn't end well.." She could hardly read Matteo's face right now, it was her own tumultuous emotions folding and caving in on itself. It was too much for one night. Too much.. she hardly felt prepared to share more than that.. Maybe one day when there weren't all those pictures staring at her, all it gave her a worming ominous feeling within her chest. "Trust me when I say this.. this story is not one you want to hear." Her vibrant eyes drifted toward the gin bottle then. Her very shields seemed to shoot up as if firmly in place as if trying to guard her own tattered soul from the demons that still taunt and torment it so.

Matteo soon downed his own drink before that topic of conversation shifted to Darcy, how her shoulders seemed to relax a little, sinking into that more relaxed state. How tense she had become, she hardly realized until this very moment as that white noise seemed to dull down and the mischief ebbing its way back in. His hands fly up in defeat, she was ready to pounce. She could hardly hide that beaming grin, the words circling in her head before they escaped her. "I've seen enough Italians raise hands like you did right then to know that is not the case." That snort so left him as he folded his arms across his chest in an endearing boyish display of defeat. She could hardly help that laughter that escaped her. "Don't look at me like that, its not my fault you fell for my brilliant trap. I think I like this look on you though, the look of defeat suits you." Okay, maybe she twisted the blade just a little. As fucked up as it sounded it was so much easier talking about Risque and Darcy's twisted romance than that lowly picture near the bottom of those ranks.

Don't get caught between them he warned, how she would manage that one she hardly knew. "I do not have a death wish just yet, thank you very much. But would it be such a bad thing if they took each other out?" She rose her brows in that dubious way. She nodded firmly, but nothing could prepare her for that weapon she was about to receive. How that very glimmer of hope was ripped away just as quickly only to be replaced by a pair of ornate gold and purple sunglasses with sprawled out panthers along the sides. She suspected it was not unintentional. "I will remember that.. and you know what...if these glasses save my life. I will hand deliver that gift with a smile AND I will curtsey." That iconic sarcasm dancing with playful ease passed the threshold of her lush lips before placing those glasses on her face, hardly believing for a hot second it would come to that. Maybe she shouldn't be increasing the wager on a man that knew the future.

Suddenly that offering of borrowing them had turned to actually gifting them to her. She hardly saw that one coming. "Thanks, I'll keep them close. Just incase dead eyes dares to look me in the eye." She had to admit she had never been gifted sunglasses before, and these were unlike anything she had seen. "You can borrow them whenever you feel the need to have visitation rights." She teased, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears.

Responsible adult he said! So now he wanted to play responsible adult at the mention of guns, bitch please. She scoffs at him with such feeling. "I am plenty responsible. I am responsible with who I shoot too. I will not shoot anyone that is not deserving of it.. I have only had to fire my gun 3 times and only once I actually shot someone. Just how many people have you shot, responsible ad-ult?" She hardly stopped the eyeroll, that sarcasm emphasized on the word adult.

Now it was time to put their focus on Cobain, that red eyed Satan child thing. She was sure he was even creepier in person. Then that conversation so shifted to the infamous puppy lover. She had more than one run-in with Tetradore and none of them were pleasant. "Look, I don't know what kind of fairy dust you've been smoking.." She wanted to say there was no way in hell she was going to make that cat's life easy. "I must be smoking it too.. ugh.." she nearly concedes, but not without a reason first. Because even with all the shock, all the confusion and shock at Matteo actually liking Tetradore. He had a point.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't treat him like the rest of these fools and perhaps for you, I will not set this sulking nightmare with skin on fire. But I have to admit, Matteo, his face makes it very hard to not want to punch it... But he didn't hurt Ace when he could have... easily. So I guess he deserves to not be set on fire.. I have to see him at a wedding and I am not looking forward to that in the slightest. Isolt still has a soft spot for him, even after all of this shit." She gestured ambiguously in the air, still clearly unhappy about this realization that Matteo had a soft spot for the enemy. This certainly made things far more complicated.

Finally, that attention shifted to the final picture upon that table. Risque.. the killer queen herself. How she could feel her inner feline instinctively recoil at that, Harley's expression certainly mirroring that inner tumultuous rage. Matteo plucked that photograph from the table to bring it closer to them both, she shifts herself to peer at that photograph. Risque looked picture perfect, those eyes piercing as they were hypnotic, but there was something lacking within them. Someone that Matteo had, that she herself miraculously still had, even Tetradore had it, a soul. That little flame that burned inside each and everyone of them until snuffed out. She was certain it was impossible to relight that very flame. Once it was gone she suspected it was gone for good.

This time it was time for Matteo's attitude to switch, that bitterness she found wholly surprising. It was not like the man she had met before at all. It was when the veil of realization succumbs her, this was personal. This vendetta against the vampire and her minions was so very personal, it seemed to obviously leak from his every pore. How she didn't see it before was perhaps Matteo's skilled, carefully placed mask and she had fallen for it. But she listens, quietly, even taking off the glasses for a moment, placing them on the dark wood coffee table in silent contemplation.

"Monsters are often made and not born. But the choices we make in our lives are what defines us." She sighed in response his tale, she placed a hand on his arm then, he seemed so quiet, distant. She recognized that look upon her face, she had been there too. She didn't need to count all the sighs that left his lips to know that this picture seemed to weigh heavier than all the rest, weighing down upon his very heart.

Matteo's theory sounded an awful lot like an episode of hoarders. She had so many felines it was disturbing how she could control them, she remembered the ones she sent after her, how relentless they were. It was like she possessed an endless army of sharp teeth and destructive claw.

"Seriously, I think her existence is sad.. she wouldn't know a good thing, even if it hit her repeatedly in the face. It will be okay, Matteo.. you said it yourself. It sounds like she died a long time ago. Her brother too, their hearts are made from agony and suffering. They will always choose their own darkness above all else. Some people cannot help themselves. Only this time, they made a very big mistake.. they picked the wrong person to fuck with." Her lips seemed to curl with temporary scorn. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, before pulling her hand away then, shifting in her seat so that she could hug her knees. Hardly looking like the valiant warrior she would need to fashion herself into but she knew she would be ready. She hadn't a choice.

Matteo seemed unable to shield himself with that impish mask. She watched how his finger merely tapped that glass and it filled just like that, it was an impressive power. She unfolded herself to pour herself another, because it felt like her chest had been stomped by a herd of rhinos, at the very least the other drinks seemed to offer her a slight reprieve. She downed it in a fluid motion as if drinking for the deserving enemies she would dismantle. They picked this fight with her she had no choice but to finish it. Perhaps it was always meant to be her battle to fight.

With a solemn nod, there was a darkness to his resolute words. "Yeah, I can't say I will miss them though." But her soul was riddled with holes, that damage had already been done, how much more could one person take before it just simply went to ruin. Perhaps she was fated to be alongside the damaged ones, the trash so many overlooked. But this was not a battle for her soul, it was a battle for freedom once and for all.

Harley put that glass down, running fingertips to comb through her silken raven locks as if it suddenly smoothed out all those toxic thoughts in her head. Exhaling a weary sigh as though she could will that feeling out of her. They had made it through the photos at the very least, her mind had a lot to sift through. But at the very least she was somehow far more prepared than she had been. She flopped backwards in an almost dramatic way looking up at the ceiling as if the answers lingered in the drywall above her head. She had her work cut out for her, dredging up those ghosts and anger to protect herself from the monsters whom seemed so destined to always darken her doorstep. "We did it. We survived the photographs." She threw her hands up in the air with lackluster celebration, that dry sarcasm hiding what she truly felt in that moment. She huffed out something that could almost have the semblance to a disjointed laugh. She almost wanted to know how long she had to prepare herself. She would start tomorrow, where she would begin, she hardly knew. All she knew was that there was a nasty storm brewing in the fiery pits of hell itself and her only weapon was her shield of anger and a pair of sexy sunglasses. Fuck, it was better than nothing. It would be a whole lot better with a submachine gun strapped to her though, how determined she was to not let that go.

He suddenly questioned her, breaking that moment of silent reflection. The photographs may have been blissfully out of sight but they were swirling in her mind like a vehement tornado. She tilted her head to view him, noticing that demeanor shifting. How much their evening was like a veritable rollercoaster, one minute she was mad at him, the next they were up to those same antics within the tattoo parlor, the next they are making sacred promises, then he shared intel that would have taken her too much time to uncover herself.

"Oh don't you worry.. I'll sleep when I am dead." She declared easily, smirking relying heavily on downplaying, it was almost a habit really. It was easier pretending everything was alright when it really wasn't. What did sleep have to do with anything? But now that she thought of it, she hadn't remembered when she actually slept through the night. That very night plaguing her mind, nightmares dancing across her closed eyelids like it was some warped movie. Was it normal for dreams to cause pain? How many nights was she plagued by this? Far too many.

After a short pause she finally looked toward him, but her eyes lingered on that dangling crucifix. "Since that night..." She finally admitted honestly, there was no real reason why she had to keep it a secret, those nightmares were enough to keep anyone awake. "Are you going to tell me that the sunglasses will help with that too?" She rose an eyebrow, allowing that playful sarcasm to fall from her once more. See, not sleepy at all.

Harley Westward