[Jazmine Becket doesn't remember it starting at any one specific moment. For as long as she can dredge up memories, really, her family has been slowly migrating from parish to parish, clean-cut and beautiful, utterly beyond reproach as they open their doors to anyone who wishes to come in and speak to their handsome young rector or visit with his two equally handsome sisters. Yancy is so white-bread as to be instantly trustworthy, and Raleigh can be as steady and virtuous as a nun. Jazmine has a little more leeway, being so young, but even being not-quite-twenty means she has to project sweet and innocent when she must. The whole pack is blonde-haired and blue-eyed like the perfect American dream, and if you didn't know any better, you'd be hard pressed not to instantly like them.
Behind closed doors, however, things look slightly different.
The rectory is an old Georgian house, with high vaulted ceilings and uneven floors, creaky boards hidden below threadbare Oriental rugs, antique mirrors reflecting the watery light from the old light fixtures in their spotted glass. It's drafty and dark, and the back door doesn't lock properly, but for the Beckets' purposes, that's perfect.
What happens is this: Yancy takes confession on Sunday afternoons, listening to the sins of their parish, and then he comes home to deliberate with his family. Together, the three of them decide which parishioner needs to be culled from the herd, and then a trap is set. Depending on their sins, either Jazmine or Raleigh will find some way to convince them to come spend an afternoon with their rector, to share a cup of tea and try some of Raleigh's world-famous coffee cake.
And then the fun really begins.]
You know, if we keep killing my boyfriends, I'll wind up dying a virgin, [Jazmine drawls as the door opens and footsteps start descending the stairs, watching with an idle sort of fascination as Norman Spade writhes on the hook they've chained him to, his toes barely touching the gently-sloping floor beneath him. The drain in the center of the floor glints threateningly in the dim light of the basement, almost as threateningly as the knife Jaz is twirling between her fingers.]
[Yancy smirks from where he's standing behind his charge, arms crossed over his chest. Looking entirely out of place in his khaki slacks and cornflower button down, rolled up to the elbows.]
Try not to date pedophiles and you'll have a better chance.
[His hair is a little mussed from the struggle but other than that not a single stitch is out of place on him, and he fixes his hair with a single sweep of long, alabaster fingers. He and Raleigh fake tan but even then he's pale. Looking something like an Abacrombie model. But seeing as he sits juust on the ginger side of blonde he can get away with it.]
You know, Norman.. I can forgive a lot of things.. but that kid? He's gonna be fucked up for the rest of his life. And that's on you.
[Norman makes a noise similar to a wounded animal in his terror, eyes darting between Jazmine, her knife, and Yancy as he babbles and begs incoherently. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it-- I'm sorry! You're a priest, you can't do this!--!!]
It's not my fault the pool is so shallow around here.
[Honestly, Jazmine hasn't felt any desire to date at all. Why would she? There's so much about her life she'd never be able to explain to anyone, and besides, she's perfectly happy with how her life is right now. She has everything she needs with Raleigh and Yancy, and nobody from the outside has tempted her to give it up yet. Though this whole virginity schtick is getting real old, real fast.
She giggles softly, the girlish titter at odds with the skillful way she plays with her knife, her eyes cold as she surveys the man in front of them, clearly deciding where she's going to poke the pointy end of her blade in first.
Stepping closer, she circles their victim and clucks her tongue idly, reaching out to prod him with the hilt of her knife, her tutting increasing when Norman attempts to kick her.] Tsk, tsk, haven't you been told not to strike a woman? That's not very polite, Norman. What do you think, Yance, do you want to teach him a lesson or should I?
I think it would be more of a lesson if you did it.
[But he kicks himself off the wall with the heel of his brown leather loafer and saunters a bit closer, picking up a plastic wrapped paint tray from a near by table. Even after all these years, this is really the best way to go about it. Haul them up. Haul them upside down, and drain them like pigs.]
This is 2014, Norm. You can't be a misogynist like that. Get with the times, man.
[Yancy knows how bored Jaz is of the virgin routine but it is a very good one. And seeing as she has more or less insisted on being a part of their operation, he's going to use her to the fullest of her potential. They, all three of them, are an extremely efficient team, moving like military clockwork.]
You're a pig, Norman. Plain and simple. And even saying that I feel bad for pigs.
[Jazmine would be lying if she said that the part she enjoyed most about this whole rigamarole wasn't the torturing part. The draining is always fascinating, in a scientific way, but once enough blood has left the body, they stop being fun to play with, and it's not like she needs the blood anyway. Not like the rest of her family. It's why she's always happy to volunteer to go first, her wicked little knives coming to the fore as she plays.
Right now, she continues to circle their victim, reaching in to flick her knife through his clothes, the sharp edge parting fabric like a hot knife through butter. Pretty soon his shirt is just a collection of tatters clinging to the collar hanging around his neck. Just because she can, she tugs on them a little, twisting his collar tight around his neck and leaning in close to watch his face purple slowly.]
I know, [she murmurs, still staring at Norman, watching the veins in his neck bulge under the pressure.] They're adorable. Have you seen those YouTube videos of the teacup pigs in England? I want one. Can I have a pig, Yancy?
A little one? [He asks, resting two or so feet behind her, watching with laser sharp vision, A smirk playing at his lips. She's good. She is very..very good. And why a teenage girl needs to be good at this is not a question he really wants to think about? It's a bit late, now.]
I don't know, maybe.. I wouldn't mind a pet.
-Why are you talking about fucking pigs?! [Norman yells, thrashing and sweating.] Why are you doing this!?
Yeah, they don't grow to be much larger than a cat. [She turns to grin at Yancy over her shoulder, her grip on the collar of Norman's shirt not loosening in the slightest. He's starting to get bug-eyed now, which is very interesting.] You can't eat my pet, though, okay? That's not cool.
[Norman's yelling is getting annoying. She lets go of his collar and reaches instead for his face, pinching his cheeks with one hand and bringing the knife up to flash dangerously in front of his eyes.] Stop talking or I'll cut your tongue out. [Judging by the deadly glint in her eye, she's not joking.
She stares at him a little bit longer, smirking in the sudden deafening silence of the basement, then hums consideringly.] Actually, I think I'm going to do that anyway. [And then, with an impressively quick flick of her wrist, she's wrenched his mouth open and grabbed his tongue, her knife flashing under the fluorescent lights with a wet tearing sound. A spurt of blood slips from Norman's mouth, splattering Jaz across the cheek as she steps back with his tongue held between her fingers, and she cries out in dismay, the noise lost under the wild, animal howl of pain Norman lets out.]
Ew, seriously? Did you have to aim for my face? [She drops his tongue onto the floor and wipes the back of her wrist across her cheek, grimacing.] That's gross, dude.
[After all the fun and game are over, they have to clean up. Once the five or six liters of blood they've collected has been bagged and fridged, the basement needs to be scrubbed, and all their equipment sanitized. (Okay, it probably doesn't have to be sanitized, but there are some things Jaz is a stickler about, and it's the cleanliness of food prep surfaces.) It's at times like this that she's so damn grateful for the slanted floor and drain in their basement, since all she needs to do is give the concrete a cursory scrub with water and bleach and then hose it down and they're done.
It means she can emerge upstairs much more quickly, wiping her hands off with a rag as she carefully shuts the basement door behind her before wandering into the kitchen.]
Are you baking again? [It's a stupid question, since she can smell the sweet smell of bread even before she reaches the kitchen, and, sure enough, she's greeted with the image of her sister busy fulfilling the role of perfect housewife, surrounded by bowls of flour and sugar and eggs and whatnot.] Please tell me it's zucchini bread again. I love your zucchini bread.
[ raleigh's never owned quite as many aprons as she does now that they've begun this facade. she's also never owned quite so many pastel blouses or cute headbands, but out of all her costume pieces, the apron was her favorite. it just kept everything so — clean. she'd even found a plasticy one for when she took her turns in their basement, delightful that wearing it meant she could get as dirty, as filthy, as messy as she pleased without ruining her clothes. but she also had her upstairs aprons, just like she had her upstairs (outside, church) personality, and those were splattered in colors and flowers and cute quotes like kiss the cool and mother knows best. most of the baking is done and she's lumped dishes in the sink and started to wipe down the counter by the time jaz trudges up from the basement, reeking of bleach more than blood, and raleigh turns to greet her with a warm smile and a conspiratory wink. ]
It might be zucchini bread, [ she sings over the warble of violins and flutes from the speakers atop the cupboards. ] I also tried this thing with plantains, but I don't know how it really turned out. I think I burned it a little, but I'm still going to make you try it. Not that you get pastries for dinner, we have potato salad in the fridge that needs to get eaten before it goes bad. [ queen of talking a mile a minute, raleigh stops for a breath she doesn't really need and redirects casually to murder. ]
Speaking of dinner, how'd it go? Sounded like you three had some fun. You've got a little — [ and she points at her own eyebrow, indicating what looks like arterial splatter in jazmine's eyebrow. ]
You're the best. [Jaz wanders into the kitchen properly, taking a detour past where Raleigh's standing so she can lean in and press a grateful kiss to her cheek.] You know I'm happy to be your guinea pig any day, Rals. For someone who can't eat you sure are good at this cooking schtick.
[She flings the rag into the skin and leans her hip against the kitchen island.] I may have been a little rash and cut his tongue out too early on. [As casual as can be, like they're discussing slaughtering a pig or something. Which is basically what she and Yancy did. They don't eat the meat, obviously, but they do more or less butcher their own meals. It's just that their meals were once sentient beings. Jaz should be bothered by this, but she isn't. She never has been.] Yancy was annoyed, but we managed to salvage it, so it's okay. There's five pints cooling in the fridge, you guys should be set for the foreseeable future if you pace yourself.
[When Raleigh motions to her face, Jaz grunts and heads over to the sink herself to get a new washcloth and clean off her face.] Thanks. I always manage to miss something.
Ah, the tongue, [ raleigh hums contentedly, like she's about to start rhapsodizing about the many different ways to cook tongue (given, it's usually cow... tongue... ) but she gets sidetracked by imagining the liters of cooling blood downstairs, almost wishing she'd joined them and got some straight from the tap. but reheated blood will satisfy her cravings as much as fresh, and she's happy that jaz and yancy got their moment.
life was made of up little moments, and if there was anything she'd learned after experiencing millions of them was that the happy one were the ones to remember.
raleigh croons: ] My little breadwinner, [ and comes up behind her to wipe the drying blood off from behind her ear. ] My messy, messy little breadwinner. Don't take it the wrong way, sweetheart, but I'm thinking you need a shower
He was annoying me. [Like that's a perfectly reasonable excuse for cutting out a man's tongue. In this household, luckily, it is. Sometimes Jaz has to step back and look at what they do, and when she does, she's so damn grateful that Raleigh and Yancy love her the way they do. There's no real difference between her and the people they drain for food, except that the Beckets took her in as a baby and raised her to be part of their family. They could have just as easily eaten her, but they didn't. She knows she's lucky.
She finds herself laughing, turning slightly to grin at Raleigh over her shoulder.] You should see Yancy, he's worse off than me. He ruined yet another blue shirt today. We've got to convince him to work naked or to wear your plastic apron. [Maybe they should all just work naked. It'd make cleaning up so much easier, that's for sure.]
A shower sounds fucking great. I won't miss anything if I go up now?
[ woah woah woah back the fuck up to that ruined blue shirt. raleigh's got the finger with the blood smear in her mouth when her face falls slightly. ]
That fucking blue shirt I spent, like, a damn hour trying to get the wrinkles out of? That shirt? He ruined that shirt?
[ she waits for him to come back from body dumping, first patiently in the kitchen while scrubbing baking pans and sweeping up the escaped zucchini bread crumbs, then impatiently upstairs while jaz bathed, ate, went around her nightly routine because humans need sleep and the youngest is still most definitely human for all her tolerance of bloodshed. then distractedly in the basement, delighted enough to find norms blood a little warm to momentarily forgive any and all messy eaters in the world.
then impatiently again, poised in the shadows like darkness herself (woah there, batman) and feeling just dramatic enough to call herself that a few times while swirling a wine glass filled with questionable contents.
apparently going for an emmy, when the front door swings open and her brotherly quietly pads in, mindful of the dark and quiet of the house, she clears her throat. loudly. pointedly. ]
Oh yeah. Cut tongues, five pints — four and a couple cups now, [ and she raises her glass to salute him, pressing the rim to her lip but not drinking just yet. ] And something about a shirt? Gosh, what did she say about arterial splatter and a shirt...
[Jazmine Becket is thirteen years old. She is an only child to Raleigh and Yancy Becket, a Catholic priest and his wife. She in eighth grade, and attends an all-girl's private school. She likes puppies and horses, and she's considering running for student body president. All in all, her life is as perfect as a pre-teen can expect it to be. Her parents love her, dote on her, give her anything she might need. She's pretty, popular, and rich enough to be considered a desirable friend. She's smart, too, and has the enviable ability to hold a conversation easily with an adult, which means her parents get complimented on her serious nature regularly, like it was some kind of achievement they themselves were responsible for.
The only problem with this little picture is that Raleigh and Yancy aren't actually her parents. They aren't even married. No, Raleigh and Yancy are siblings, and are actually four hundred years old.
She's been raised by vampires.
Now, this isn't a surprise to her; she was told early on that she was adopted, so that's not shocking, and as soon as she grew old enough to understand the concept of secrets, Raleigh took her aside and made her promise not to tell, and then showed her all they could do. In hindsight, it explained so much about her childhood, that Jazmine wasn't even afraid when Raleigh showed her her teeth. She had solemnly promised never to tell a soul, and went to bed with the same ease she always had, secure in the knowledge that her parents were watching out for her.
This is her life, and she's happy with it.
Blowing through the front door after school, she slings her back pack into the corner of the hall and barges straight into the kitchen, looking for a snack.] Mom! Dad! I'm home!
[ it's at the spring potluck that their church holds every may day. it's strangely hot and sunny, sticky and the uvb rays were burning everyone's skin bright pink, but raleigh and yancy feel none of it. children shriek with delight in the sprinklers, men and women gossip, behind the building two teenagers break up, and they hear all of it. three collapsible tables are draped with red and white checkered table cloths and absolutely covered in food; baked beans, potato salad, cookies, ribs, and they eat none of it. they stand respectably by a table, dressed in complimentary blues and pinks and smile at their congregation as they come up and say thanks, praise them, bless them, and hand over the expected, socially acceptable amount of money to the church donation box just to their left. it happens right in the middle of the festivities, a young couple new to town chat them up, all smiles and generous compliments, excited to be accepted into the community and be invited to the potluck (neither the pastor nor his wife point out that everyone in the neighborhood was invited, it doesn't matter), and when georgia asks if they have any children, raleigh croons yes, we have a lovely daughter and points to where jaz is playing with some younger children indulgently.
and both reorgia and ronald look at each other. and then at raleigh and yancy, and ask: really?
it couldn't last forever. they'd died young, barely through their twenties, and reborn to never age further. practiced lying means raleigh just smiles a little wider, and yancy breezes in to explain that they were older than they looked, both with an easy laugh on their lips. but it sparked an interesting conversation upon returning home, in the living room at around two in the morning. and by five, they're decided. jaz is packed off to school, and yancy goes in discuss closing his affairs at that particular parish. and raleigh stays home, computer (one of the best inventions of the century) on her lap and browsing for appropriately comfortable, appropriately priced houses in other states. for a time they had considered going international, but preferred not to uproot and displace their daughter that much. except — she wasn't their daughter anymore.
and when she comes home, calling for mom and dad, she doesn't respond. she lets jaz find her all on her own, but beams brightly at her and gestures her to come join on the couch when she does. ]
Hey, Jazzle-Dazzle. Come here, come sit, I want you to look at this. [ this being series of pictures of a modern-gothic mix mc-mansion with a small yard and big apple trees. ]
[Raleigh doesn't work, the perfect Catholic housewife, so Jaz is a little surprised that she doesn't get a response when she shouts her greeting. But she puts it down to maybe Raleigh being outside, or on the phone, or maybe she's just busy, and doesn't think much of it. Instead, she takes the opportunity of Raleigh not being in the kitchen to grab a bag of chips as her snack, gleefully ripping into the package and stuffing a handful into her mouth before looking around the kitchen some more. The house looks...slightly different, like stuff has been moved around, but she doesn't know what, exactly, has changed. It's a little unsettling, but Jaz is secure enough not to worry about that sort of thing, and so she quickly pushes the worry aside. Grabbing an apple so Raleigh won't lecture her about her health, she starts to traipse through the house until she finds her mother.
She wasn't that hard to find. Spying her wheat-blonde hair over the back of the couch, Jaz slides into the living room.]
Look at what, Mom? [She flops down on the couch beside her mother, scooting in close, and peers at her laptop as she licks salt off her fingers.] ...Why are you looking at houses?
[ that first question is met with carefully depositing the laptop in jaz's lap and throwing an arm around her shoulder; snuggling up and pointing at the screen excitedly, like if she smiles enough and practically vibrates enthusiasm, it will rub off on jaz too.
the second question is — tactfully ignored. ]
Look, it's got rose bushes, and if you — [ she brushes the track pad, clicks a few times and navigates to more pictures, of the interior; the kitchen, the front room, the living room, etc. ] Look at that bedroom! It's gorgeous, isn't if? With those big wide windows, and there's a little patio outside, I think. Of course, you have to imagine it painted differently. I'm thinking a soft yellow, or maybe a sea foam green.
[If there's one thing Jazmine does not like, it's being ignored.
The snuggling is nice, and all, but Raleigh's enthusiasm is met with the best skeptical eyebrow this thirteen year old can manage, and she doesn't let her mom draw her attention away from the most pressing question.]
Yeah, it's a nice house. [Seriously, Raleigh, what's going on.] But for real, why are you looking at houses? Where's Dad?
[ there's probably a better way she could have introduced this change — so many better, less dramatic and traumatic ways she could have introduced this topic, dammit raleigh — but this is just how it's happening, she's a roll with the flow kinda person. ]
He left us — his three lovely, darling, intelligent children — right after his wife died of lung cancer. Or breast cancer, we're undecided on that aspect of the story, but the general gist is that mom's dead, dad's gone, and we just so happen to be fortunate enough to have an uncle willing to loan us the money to buy a house.
[ which... gives raleigh pause. because who has an uncle that generous and rich in this day and age, anyway? ]
Hm, no. Our mother had a large inheritance. That sounds more believable, right?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
i'll drink, i'll drink until you love me
Date: 2014-11-14 01:23 am (UTC)Behind closed doors, however, things look slightly different.
The rectory is an old Georgian house, with high vaulted ceilings and uneven floors, creaky boards hidden below threadbare Oriental rugs, antique mirrors reflecting the watery light from the old light fixtures in their spotted glass. It's drafty and dark, and the back door doesn't lock properly, but for the Beckets' purposes, that's perfect.
What happens is this: Yancy takes confession on Sunday afternoons, listening to the sins of their parish, and then he comes home to deliberate with his family. Together, the three of them decide which parishioner needs to be culled from the herd, and then a trap is set. Depending on their sins, either Jazmine or Raleigh will find some way to convince them to come spend an afternoon with their rector, to share a cup of tea and try some of Raleigh's world-famous coffee cake.
And then the fun really begins.]
You know, if we keep killing my boyfriends, I'll wind up dying a virgin, [Jazmine drawls as the door opens and footsteps start descending the stairs, watching with an idle sort of fascination as Norman Spade writhes on the hook they've chained him to, his toes barely touching the gently-sloping floor beneath him. The drain in the center of the floor glints threateningly in the dim light of the basement, almost as threateningly as the knife Jaz is twirling between her fingers.]
no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 01:40 am (UTC)Try not to date pedophiles and you'll have a better chance.
[His hair is a little mussed from the struggle but other than that not a single stitch is out of place on him, and he fixes his hair with a single sweep of long, alabaster fingers. He and Raleigh fake tan but even then he's pale. Looking something like an Abacrombie model. But seeing as he sits juust on the ginger side of blonde he can get away with it.]
You know, Norman.. I can forgive a lot of things.. but that kid? He's gonna be fucked up for the rest of his life. And that's on you.
[Norman makes a noise similar to a wounded animal in his terror, eyes darting between Jazmine, her knife, and Yancy as he babbles and begs incoherently. Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it-- I'm sorry! You're a priest, you can't do this!--!!]
no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 01:49 am (UTC)[Honestly, Jazmine hasn't felt any desire to date at all. Why would she? There's so much about her life she'd never be able to explain to anyone, and besides, she's perfectly happy with how her life is right now. She has everything she needs with Raleigh and Yancy, and nobody from the outside has tempted her to give it up yet. Though this whole virginity schtick is getting real old, real fast.
She giggles softly, the girlish titter at odds with the skillful way she plays with her knife, her eyes cold as she surveys the man in front of them, clearly deciding where she's going to poke the pointy end of her blade in first.
Stepping closer, she circles their victim and clucks her tongue idly, reaching out to prod him with the hilt of her knife, her tutting increasing when Norman attempts to kick her.] Tsk, tsk, haven't you been told not to strike a woman? That's not very polite, Norman. What do you think, Yance, do you want to teach him a lesson or should I?
no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 02:10 am (UTC)[But he kicks himself off the wall with the heel of his brown leather loafer and saunters a bit closer, picking up a plastic wrapped paint tray from a near by table. Even after all these years, this is really the best way to go about it. Haul them up. Haul them upside down, and drain them like pigs.]
This is 2014, Norm. You can't be a misogynist like that. Get with the times, man.
[Yancy knows how bored Jaz is of the virgin routine but it is a very good one. And seeing as she has more or less insisted on being a part of their operation, he's going to use her to the fullest of her potential. They, all three of them, are an extremely efficient team, moving like military clockwork.]
You're a pig, Norman. Plain and simple. And even saying that I feel bad for pigs.
[A small aside to Jaz]
They're as smart as dogs, you know. Cleaner, too.
no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 02:31 am (UTC)[Jazmine would be lying if she said that the part she enjoyed most about this whole rigamarole wasn't the torturing part. The draining is always fascinating, in a scientific way, but once enough blood has left the body, they stop being fun to play with, and it's not like she needs the blood anyway. Not like the rest of her family. It's why she's always happy to volunteer to go first, her wicked little knives coming to the fore as she plays.
Right now, she continues to circle their victim, reaching in to flick her knife through his clothes, the sharp edge parting fabric like a hot knife through butter. Pretty soon his shirt is just a collection of tatters clinging to the collar hanging around his neck. Just because she can, she tugs on them a little, twisting his collar tight around his neck and leaning in close to watch his face purple slowly.]
I know, [she murmurs, still staring at Norman, watching the veins in his neck bulge under the pressure.] They're adorable. Have you seen those YouTube videos of the teacup pigs in England? I want one. Can I have a pig, Yancy?
no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 02:36 am (UTC)I don't know, maybe.. I wouldn't mind a pet.
-Why are you talking about fucking pigs?! [Norman yells, thrashing and sweating.] Why are you doing this!?
no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 02:48 am (UTC)[Norman's yelling is getting annoying. She lets go of his collar and reaches instead for his face, pinching his cheeks with one hand and bringing the knife up to flash dangerously in front of his eyes.] Stop talking or I'll cut your tongue out. [Judging by the deadly glint in her eye, she's not joking.
She stares at him a little bit longer, smirking in the sudden deafening silence of the basement, then hums consideringly.] Actually, I think I'm going to do that anyway. [And then, with an impressively quick flick of her wrist, she's wrenched his mouth open and grabbed his tongue, her knife flashing under the fluorescent lights with a wet tearing sound. A spurt of blood slips from Norman's mouth, splattering Jaz across the cheek as she steps back with his tongue held between her fingers, and she cries out in dismay, the noise lost under the wild, animal howl of pain Norman lets out.]
Ew, seriously? Did you have to aim for my face? [She drops his tongue onto the floor and wipes the back of her wrist across her cheek, grimacing.] That's gross, dude.
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From:lock me away so i can never see the light of day
Date: 2014-11-14 02:40 am (UTC)It means she can emerge upstairs much more quickly, wiping her hands off with a rag as she carefully shuts the basement door behind her before wandering into the kitchen.]
Are you baking again? [It's a stupid question, since she can smell the sweet smell of bread even before she reaches the kitchen, and, sure enough, she's greeted with the image of her sister busy fulfilling the role of perfect housewife, surrounded by bowls of flour and sugar and eggs and whatnot.] Please tell me it's zucchini bread again. I love your zucchini bread.
slow down rapunzel
Date: 2014-11-14 04:14 am (UTC)It might be zucchini bread, [ she sings over the warble of violins and flutes from the speakers atop the cupboards. ] I also tried this thing with plantains, but I don't know how it really turned out. I think I burned it a little, but I'm still going to make you try it. Not that you get pastries for dinner, we have potato salad in the fridge that needs to get eaten before it goes bad. [ queen of talking a mile a minute, raleigh stops for a breath she doesn't really need and redirects casually to murder. ]
Speaking of dinner, how'd it go? Sounded like you three had some fun. You've got a little — [ and she points at her own eyebrow, indicating what looks like arterial splatter in jazmine's eyebrow. ]
YOU DON'T KNOW ME YOU DON'T KNOW MY LIFE
Date: 2014-11-14 04:24 am (UTC)[She flings the rag into the skin and leans her hip against the kitchen island.] I may have been a little rash and cut his tongue out too early on. [As casual as can be, like they're discussing slaughtering a pig or something. Which is basically what she and Yancy did. They don't eat the meat, obviously, but they do more or less butcher their own meals. It's just that their meals were once sentient beings. Jaz should be bothered by this, but she isn't. She never has been.] Yancy was annoyed, but we managed to salvage it, so it's okay. There's five pints cooling in the fridge, you guys should be set for the foreseeable future if you pace yourself.
[When Raleigh motions to her face, Jaz grunts and heads over to the sink herself to get a new washcloth and clean off her face.] Thanks. I always manage to miss something.
I KNOW YOU'RE NOT IN A TOWER, THERE'S NO WIFI IN TOWERS
Date: 2014-11-14 05:17 am (UTC)life was made of up little moments, and if there was anything she'd learned after experiencing millions of them was that the happy one were the ones to remember.
raleigh croons: ] My little breadwinner, [ and comes up behind her to wipe the drying blood off from behind her ear. ] My messy, messy little breadwinner. Don't take it the wrong way, sweetheart, but I'm thinking you need a shower
M-MAYBE THERE IS IN THIS ONE YOU DON'T KNOW
Date: 2014-11-14 05:34 am (UTC)She finds herself laughing, turning slightly to grin at Raleigh over her shoulder.] You should see Yancy, he's worse off than me. He ruined yet another blue shirt today. We've got to convince him to work naked or to wear your plastic apron. [Maybe they should all just work naked. It'd make cleaning up so much easier, that's for sure.]
A shower sounds fucking great. I won't miss anything if I go up now?
ok ok ok let down ur hair
Date: 2014-11-14 05:39 am (UTC)That fucking blue shirt I spent, like, a damn hour trying to get the wrinkles out of? That shirt? He ruined that shirt?
well only for u
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From:( dexter theme plays quietly in the distance )
Date: 2014-11-14 02:50 pm (UTC)then impatiently again, poised in the shadows like darkness herself (woah there, batman) and feeling just dramatic enough to call herself that a few times while swirling a wine glass filled with questionable contents.
apparently going for an emmy, when the front door swings open and her brotherly quietly pads in, mindful of the dark and quiet of the house, she clears her throat. loudly. pointedly. ]
So how'd it go?
( Yancy starts wearing pink shirts...ohwait )
Date: 2014-11-14 04:00 pm (UTC)He instantly slows down, raising an eyebrow as he steps out of his shoes and quietly closes the heavy front door behind him. Wow Rals, dramatic much.]
Fine. Had a little fumble but we're good. I'm sure Jaz told you all about it.
( so fancy )
Date: 2014-11-14 04:34 pm (UTC)(He is the fanciest)
Date: 2014-11-14 04:51 pm (UTC)[GROAN]
Seriously?
( he already knows )
Date: 2014-11-14 04:59 pm (UTC)I'm not doing your laundry anymore.
( From LA to Tokyo )
Date: 2014-11-14 05:09 pm (UTC)[Is he sauntering over? Yes. Yes he is. Look how cute he is. Don't be mad.]
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From:say your prayers, come on, be good
Date: 2014-11-17 02:22 am (UTC)The only problem with this little picture is that Raleigh and Yancy aren't actually her parents. They aren't even married. No, Raleigh and Yancy are siblings, and are actually four hundred years old.
She's been raised by vampires.
Now, this isn't a surprise to her; she was told early on that she was adopted, so that's not shocking, and as soon as she grew old enough to understand the concept of secrets, Raleigh took her aside and made her promise not to tell, and then showed her all they could do. In hindsight, it explained so much about her childhood, that Jazmine wasn't even afraid when Raleigh showed her her teeth. She had solemnly promised never to tell a soul, and went to bed with the same ease she always had, secure in the knowledge that her parents were watching out for her.
This is her life, and she's happy with it.
Blowing through the front door after school, she slings her back pack into the corner of the hall and barges straight into the kitchen, looking for a snack.] Mom! Dad! I'm home!
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Date: 2014-11-17 02:58 am (UTC)and both reorgia and ronald look at each other. and then at raleigh and yancy, and ask: really?
it couldn't last forever. they'd died young, barely through their twenties, and reborn to never age further. practiced lying means raleigh just smiles a little wider, and yancy breezes in to explain that they were older than they looked, both with an easy laugh on their lips. but it sparked an interesting conversation upon returning home, in the living room at around two in the morning. and by five, they're decided. jaz is packed off to school, and yancy goes in discuss closing his affairs at that particular parish. and raleigh stays home, computer (one of the best inventions of the century) on her lap and browsing for appropriately comfortable, appropriately priced houses in other states. for a time they had considered going international, but preferred not to uproot and displace their daughter that much. except — she wasn't their daughter anymore.
and when she comes home, calling for mom and dad, she doesn't respond. she lets jaz find her all on her own, but beams brightly at her and gestures her to come join on the couch when she does. ]
Hey, Jazzle-Dazzle. Come here, come sit, I want you to look at this. [ this being series of pictures of a modern-gothic mix mc-mansion with a small yard and big apple trees. ]
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Date: 2014-11-17 03:12 am (UTC)She wasn't that hard to find. Spying her wheat-blonde hair over the back of the couch, Jaz slides into the living room.]
Look at what, Mom? [She flops down on the couch beside her mother, scooting in close, and peers at her laptop as she licks salt off her fingers.] ...Why are you looking at houses?
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Date: 2014-11-17 03:25 am (UTC)the second question is — tactfully ignored. ]
Look, it's got rose bushes, and if you — [ she brushes the track pad, clicks a few times and navigates to more pictures, of the interior; the kitchen, the front room, the living room, etc. ] Look at that bedroom! It's gorgeous, isn't if? With those big wide windows, and there's a little patio outside, I think. Of course, you have to imagine it painted differently. I'm thinking a soft yellow, or maybe a sea foam green.
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Date: 2014-11-17 03:30 am (UTC)The snuggling is nice, and all, but Raleigh's enthusiasm is met with the best skeptical eyebrow this thirteen year old can manage, and she doesn't let her mom draw her attention away from the most pressing question.]
Yeah, it's a nice house. [Seriously, Raleigh, what's going on.] But for real, why are you looking at houses? Where's Dad?
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Date: 2014-11-17 03:54 am (UTC)[ there's probably a better way she could have introduced this change — so many better, less dramatic and traumatic ways she could have introduced this topic, dammit raleigh — but this is just how it's happening, she's a roll with the flow kinda person. ]
He left us — his three lovely, darling, intelligent children — right after his wife died of lung cancer. Or breast cancer, we're undecided on that aspect of the story, but the general gist is that mom's dead, dad's gone, and we just so happen to be fortunate enough to have an uncle willing to loan us the money to buy a house.
[ which... gives raleigh pause. because who has an uncle that generous and rich in this day and age, anyway? ]
Hm, no. Our mother had a large inheritance. That sounds more believable, right?
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