castle in the frame :: vvitches

And on this cold winter morning, a terrible mistake was made.

His cigarette smoke climbs up into the air, resting on wind currents as they whip and swarm around him, buffeting his skin as it slaps his senses back to reality. He breathes in, the end of the cigarette flaring shortly, flashing bright in the dim morning light before fading again. He lets the smoke circle in his mouth for a moment, letting it collide with the sins he clenches beneath his teeth when he watches their body go limp, their eyes wide and their heartbeats slow-

He breaths the smoke out the side of his mouth, watching the cigarette laced between his fingertips flare shortly, fading again. It slows in his hands, a strong gust of wind putting it out for good and he breathes again, the rush of cold air stinging his teeth.

In, out, his heart beats heavy in his chest and he sighs, running a hand through his hair before flicking the cigarette with his thumb, watching it spiral in the air before it's laid to rest in the snow, singing for a moment before fading again. The sun is rising and it sweeps across the snow covered streets, a wildfire against pristine white sheets, racing towards it's target. It blankets him, wrapping fingers around his skin and setting him ablaze. He shields his eyes as it splits them in two, bright lights blaring behind his eyelids when he blinks. Alone, cold, and quaking with regret, he burns.

Fitting, maybe he deserves it.

He twists on his heels and turns back towards the house, his feet crunching through the snow, a single thread of smoke rising from the butt he left behind, marking the spot of his death. 

"Apparently they want to have a dinner tonight, together."

"A dinner?"

Ace shrugs, rolling his eyes and nodding, turning around and looking out the window. Asher leans back against the kitchen wall, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows, shaking his head as the sunlight flashes across his face, scattering in the house and bouncing off the walls around them, framing the rotting castle of a family of frauds. Upstairs, the spirits stir, floorboards creaking and bumps of the night turning to shuffling footsteps of the sunlight. He sighs, dropping his gaze to the floorboards and following the paths of the oak, carved into their home like some sort of spirit circle. But he knows that's not what they look like. After all, one of those pixie fucks had chosen to carve one into the basement floor last month, the moonlight framing their wiry frames, candles lit in the darkness flaring bright whenever they moved. Alone, silent, he'd watched from the sidelines as they cleansed the girl they were trying to heal. And for a moment, when he blinks, he swears he can see something pouring out of her body, rising up towards the ceiling, dancing in the shadows and flickering with the candlelight. His eyes narrow for a moment before he dismissed it to be the smoke from the candles, eyes playing tricks on him, but that doesn't stop him from glancing behind him when he climbs the stairs that night- no, there is nothing there. 

"Why the fuck do they want to have a dinner with us? Aren't they too busy trying to-"

Ace interrupts him, turning around and raising his hands in the air, before pointing a finger at him, his sign to tell him to shut his god damn mouth.

"Look, I don't know Asher. They've been riding my ass lately, and if this puts them to rest, so be it. Okay?"

Asher pushes forward from the wall, his feet resting lightly on the floorboards before he lets out a small laugh, rolling his eyes again.

"Pfft, whatever I guess."

He goes to leave, but his brother's voice has one last command.

"Oh, and I'm going to need you to run to the market to grab some stuff." 

Bickering and banter, ten minutes later he departs from the house for the second time that morning, pulling his winter coat tight around him, glancing down at the forgotten cigarette butt that rests in the snow as he passes by. 

It's like an icon, the way his wardrobe was drained of color when he joined this family. He wears the screams and sins of the shadows tight around him, dragging the namesake and legacy of a witch along behind him. The citizens see him, cloaked in blacks and grays and the fear swarms them, parting like the sea as he comes closer. They act like fire, sporadic and unpredictable, chaotic and afraid, arcing around him as he shuffles forwards, ice gathering in his irises just like the poison in blood. His movements slow as he arrives, making his way towards the vendors and browsing their selection. Fucking witches, he thinks, noting the way the woman standing next to him stares for a moment, before departing from his presence. 

"Can I help you- oh" 

The vendor turns towards him before cutting short, sighing and putting down the bag he was carrying, approaching him. 

"The usual, Vinn." 

The moon rises and shatters in the night sky, bleeding through their windows as they gather at the table. They are ragtag and nasty, two toxins flowing into one another but never mixing. On normal days, they avoided one another like a plague, staying to their corners, staying to their roots. Apparently, this was not a normal day. 

Thirty minutes into the dinner and he's tapping his fingernails against the wooden table, slow and rhythmic, a taunt as they eat in silence. After a few moments, he surveys the family, smirking slightly before raising his drink to his lips. 

"So, witches, how's the patient doing?"