Blood and Whiskey [Blackmoore Family]

:: I love the dead before they're cold,
Their blueing flesh for me to hold.
Cadaver eyes upon me see nothing.
I love the dead before they rise ::

Morana continued to rummage through the fridge searching for her source of relaxation- her dose of alcohol- to calm her headache. All she could see was food and juices that needed to be kept cool- both things were a necessity apparently- but not the drink she desired; the woman let out a long sigh of annoyance as she begun to feel the truer effects of withdrawal. Pausing she heard someone walking across the landing upstairs; the sound of muffled footsteps echoed through the kitchen ceiling. The sound was so detailed that the young woman could follow the person walking away from one room and towards the stairs- eventually the sound became too quiet to follow any more so, Morana turned her attention back to the fridge, looking for her whiskey. The black haired woman heard the person walk down the stairs with heavy footfall- loud thudding accompanied their each step down the stairs- and had a feeling to who it was before they had even reached the kitchen.

“Someone’s up a little early...interesting night last night or something?” A voice laughed from behind her

Surprised, the young woman peered through a curtain of black hair she saw Sid walking towards her- his chest and arms still bare from his night’s sleep- through the kitchen door. Out of all the siblings, Sid was one of the few that Morana could tolerate to the extent of actually liking him; he was like her after all, he wasn’t a son of mother but he was biologically related to the family. His mother had given him up, so he did not really know him she guessed but he knew how it felt to not truly belong so he understood Morana in a way; they had got along well as children, he had been more welcoming than the others during her first few weeks of living in the Blackmoore household.

***

The black-haired girl had retreated to a quiet place again- she was frightened by the other children. She had felt hope when she had been taken in by the strange woman but now, she wished she had died on the street again. She had been bed bound for a while so had not met any of mothers other children until today- when she was finally allowed to come downstairs and meet her. Mother had dressed her in a little dress and tied her hair back in a bun so she looked presentable, then she had been taken downstairs to the living room where the other children were waiting impatiently.

“Children” Mother smiled, calling for silence in the room of fidgety children “Meet your new sister, Morana”

They all just stared at her- blankly- with odd looks deep in their eyes. It was un-nerving, it made Morana swallow and begin to sweat with so many eyes fixed on her; mother did not notice that she was uncomfortable and left the little girl alone. Once the children began to ‘play’ with each other, throwing themselves at one another, Morana had slipped away and found somewhere quiet to hide. Those children are animals! She thought to herself as she heard them screaming and shouting from the living room below- how frightened she was. The little girl sat there, in the darkened cupboard, for a long while before she heard the footsteps of someone growing closer; at first she thought it was mother but soon she realized it was someone else- someone with a heavy footstep. The cupboard door opened and there had stood Sid, looking at her with an odd look on his face- he must’ve been a year or so older than she was because his face seemed a little more developed than hers. Surprisingly he smiled at her and held out his hand, palm open, towards her but Morana was frightened by the boy, he had the strange look in his eyes as the other children had had and she swore his teeth were pointed.

“It’s alright,” he said “I won’t hurt you. Why don’t you come play with us? I promise they won’t hurt you”

***

She smiled some as Sid walked past her and reached into the fridge- he gestured to the top shelf “Liquor's on to the top shelf; Pretty sure Raven was hitting it last night, or Aragorn.... who knows.”

She rolled her eyes as he kissed the top of her head and ruffled her already messy hair- something she couldn’t help but laugh at- before he collected something from the fridge and went over to the sink. Morana glanced at him before following his instructions to where the liquor was and sure enough- to her surprise- it was there; she would have to question her sister and brother on why they had touched her drink but she would leave that until later. Crossing the kitchen, Morana glanced over at Sid who was washing blood from his hands

“Sadly, my evening involved myself, a bottle of merlot and the highlights of the Games from last Friday” Morana spoke smoothly as she poured herself a glass and took swig.

As the honey liquid slid down her throat, the young woman hummed with satisfaction of the warming sensation the alcohol was giving her; her headache slowly beginning to dissipate. Wiping her lips she poured another glass- leaving it this time- as she perched herself on the countertop beside Sid; she sat away from the plate he had retrieved from the fridge- she was one of the few who had not taken a fancy to consuming human meat or blood- since the heart on the plate repulsed her.

“I’m assuming you made a kill last night?” Morana took another sip of her drink nodding towards the blood that was washing away in the sink “Didn’t your mother ever tell you to always wash your hands after Dinner”

:: No farewells, no goodbyes.
I never even knew your now-rotting face.
While friends and lovers mourn your silly grave.
I have other uses for you, Darling ::

Word Count: 973

"What the Hell?"

Smashing my face into the side of a bathtub colder than my mother's heart was definitely a new one for me on the list of "Weird reasons I've woken up." The initial wave of chill did not actually sink in until after moving around, leaving me forming goosebumps while I tear the rope off my feet, that were previously bondaged to the faucet. Who ever forced me in here did a hell of a piss poor job making sure I would not get out, leaving damn nail filers on the sink. Synchronized poundings of my brain against my skull, the knot in my stomach matching the weak one suspended above the bathtub floor and the shallow cut on my arm gave me the impression I didn't give too much of a swinging fight.

After steadying my weak balance and knobby knees with my bare hands (which feel like they have frostbite thanks to somebody)