Snippet #2815381

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Alex didn’t know if Phoenix understood just how much his presence grounded him; Phoenix had been a constant in Alex’s life for as long as he could remember, and there was almost no one else that made him feel as secure. Alex felt a little guilty that Phoenix had to comfort him like this. This was his fault, he didn’t deserve the gentle words, or the hushed tones. Still, he nodded. They were going to be okay. It was going to work out. He closed his eyes tightly, and for a moment tried to focus on nothing but his breathing and Phoenix’s hand on his shoulder. Everything was so different, and in that moment he felt like an intruder in his own home.

“It’s so quiet.” Alex wasn’t sure why he said it, except for the fact that the better part of the past decade of his life had been drenched in the whispering of the spirits of the dead. He hadn’t always noticed them before, but he certainly noticed their absence. Most notable was the ghost of a puppy that had followed him here when he moved his things. Alex mostly didn’t even notice him (he didn’t even tend to notice spirits that just minded their business and left him alone, anymore), but now he couldn’t see the ghost, and that bothered him in ways he didn’t know how to explain. “I always thought I’d be happy to be rid of the spirits, but it’s just… Lonely.” Of course, he wasn’t alone, and even if ghosts and spirits weren’t constantly whispering in his ear, he still felt their absence, like the last child left at home when all of the others had moved on.

Alex shook his head; he could think about that later, but hopefully everything would be righted soon, and this could all be an unpleasant memory. “I’m sorry, Phoenix.” Alex sighed, grappling with his words in a way he probably normally wouldn’t have. Everything felt a little uncomfortable and foreign. “I never imagined something like this would happen,” He trailed off, almost as if there were more he wanted to say, but instead he took a deep breath and mumbled, “Okay. I’m okay,” It was more for his own sake than anything, as if he needed to assure himself that he wasn’t going to melt into a puddle of anxiety. He was okay. Everything was going to be okay. He needed to finish gathering up supplies; he’d learned by now it was best not to leave Zada waiting. He didn’t feel like being murdered.

“Thanks,” What he was thanking Phoenix for, he couldn’t tell you. He was grateful for Phoenix’s help, and emotional support, his patience. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Alex paused, and chuckled softly to cover up how awkward he felt, “Probably have a nervous breakdown.” He didn’t vocalize the I don’t deserve you, but it was there; somewhere in the air between them. The only thing he seemed to be any good at was fucking everything up, and still Phoenix stayed beside him. He needed to be better, he knew he did, but every time he tried to improve he just fucked things up again, and often made things worse than they were before.

But he didn’t have time to sit around feeling worthless, so he got up and started gathering things in earnest. A few crystals, the skull he’d salvaged from his secret santa gift, as well as the other various things he thought he might need. Chalk, paint, wood ash. Basic stuff. As Phoenix predicted, it didn’t take him long. There wasn’t really a rhyme or reason to why Alex kept things where he did, but he tended to remember where they were.

He’d set everything out; he wanted to see it all together to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, and was silently contemplating swapping the crystals for different ones when the thought that this may not even work overwhelmed him. Of course, it had always been there, in the back of his mind. “Hey, Phoenix?” He knew that Phoenix was likely waiting on him as he fretted over what were- ultimately- unimportant details, but his entire life was riding on this. “If… If this goes wrong, or it doesn’t work, or…” This was their only option, but Alex couldn’t just happily pretend he thought everything was going to work out perfectly. He’d be happy if it did, of course, but there were no guarantees when you worked with demons. “I just… I love you.” And while he could have stopped there, those words seemed to unlock something within him, and the word-vomit of whatever he was feeling seemed to pour out of his mouth before he could stop it. “And knowing you, and being your friend, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never thought that…” It was strange, hearing his words expressed by a different voice, “Loving you, and being loved by you, has been the greatest privilege of my life.”

He knew that he needed to shut up and stop talking like he was getting ready to die, so he cleared his throat, “I just mean that… If this doesn’t work out, I don’t expect you to just be okay with it. I’ll understand whatever you do.”

When Triss admitted to not knowing what to expect from the deal, Zada’s brow furrowed. That was troublesome, and she would have been lying if she said she wasn’t worried. It was foolish, in her mind, to make a deal one didn’t fully understand. But as Trisstana elaborated, Zada couldn’t help but feel more annoyed than anything. Of course Alex needed a babysitter, and of course Trisstana would be pulled into doing that job. “So you have to babysit an immature manchild? Wonderful.” The irritation was evident in her voice, though truthfully she wasn’t upset with Triss; she hadn’t chosen any of this, nor did she have much of a choice in the matter if she wanted to return to normal.

She didn’t mind Triss fiddling with her bracelet, or holding her hand. Really, Zada wouldn't have protested much of anything if it brough Triss some comfort. This was an awkward and uncomfortable situation, and as upset and scared as she may be, she was sure it was only worse for Triss. When she started to talk about the demon sealing the deal, Zada raised an eyebrow. That was importable, because if they’d sealed the deal, it likely meant that Triss was going to have to follow her end of the deal to the letter, or the demon wouldn’t hold up her end of the bargain. Zada hadn’t dealt with too many demons, but she’d once known one well enough to learn that much.

Then Triss pulled away, reacting in pain. Zada gasped and recoiled, herself, mostly in surprise. “Are you okay?” She searched Triss’s face for any answers, then glanced down to her hand. Realization dawned on Zada’s face and she lightly touched her bracelet, gently turning it over her wrist. “It’s silver.” She took the bracelet off and set it aside, then reached out for Triss’ injured hand, “I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m not used to dealing with people who have silver sensitivities.” Just how many supernatural beings had a sensitivity to silver was among one of the first things Zada had learned when she moved to Greythorne, but she didn’t generally interact overly closely with most of them. She hadn’t thought about the implications of Triss being in this body, and what that might mean.

“Come with me,” She demanded, as she led Triss to the kitchen. The best she could think of was running some cold water over Triss’ hand, “It… It’s like a burn, right?” Zada had to admit, she had no idea what they were meant to do in this situation. Would it heal normally? Would it spread and get worse if they didn’t perform some sort of strange and ancient ritual? Nothing about witches was easy or straightforward, if you asked Zada. “I don’t know what to do.” She seemed to remember, then, that she could text Phoenix to ask. “I’ll ask Phoenix.” She reached for her phone, which she kept charging on the kitchen counter.

Phoenix Woods:
We have had accidental contact with silver. It is not immediately fatal, correct?

Texting didn’t come easily to Zada, and she didn’t always convey her tone properly, but cell phones were one thing she could never get the hang of. Maybe it was a human thing, to be able to use them intuitively. “Does it hurt badly?”