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[center][color=yellow][b]Location:[/b][/color] [color=#959595]Vex’s apartment[/color] 
[color=#3A5F7F][b]Time:[/b][/color] [color=#959595]Dusk[/color][/center]
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[color=#959595]Zachariah’s muscles tensed at her tone, body shifting into a defensive stance before his mind consciously processed the threat. Then the full weight of her statement registered. Not “are”—“were.” Past tense.

Slowly, his shoulders eased. She was right. As much as he wanted to claim he still was a Warden, that door closed the moment he turned. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him—he’d become exactly what he’d been trained to hunt. The Wardens wouldn’t keep something like him in their ranks. Protocol was clear on that point.

A quiet curse escaped his lips as he combed fingers through his hair. What was he supposed to do now? Years of training, purpose, identity—all rendered obsolete in a single night he couldn’t even remember.

For a moment, he stood silently, gaze fixed on some middle distance. Then, realizing he’d left her hanging, he looked up at Vex with an expression that settled into something carefully neutral.

[color=#3A5F7F]“Yeah. Is that going to be a problem for you?”[/color]

Vex didn’t answer him right away. She just stared—one of those long, unsettling, measured stares like she was peeling him open with her eyes. Then she made a sound. Once. Loud. Sharp. Almost a laugh, but not quite.

She dragged off her joint again, leaned her head back, and blew the smoke toward the ceiling like it carried the punchline of a private joke.

[color=yellow]“You know,”[/color] she drawled, voice thick with sarcasm and weed, [color=yellow]“whoever turned you…They had a hell of a sense of humor.”[/color]

Zachariah scoffed at that. [color=#3A5F7F][i]Perfect cosmic joke.[/i][/color]

She looked at him again, eyes glinting like gold coins at the bottom of a dark well.

[color=yellow]“A Warden. Turned vampire.”[/color] She chuckled this time, low and throaty. [color=yellow]“That’s not just irony, that’s goddamn performance art.”[/color]

[color=#3A5F7F]“The reviews are split on whether it’s tragedy or dark comedy.”[/color]

[color=yellow]“I’ll vote dark comedy”[/color]she grinned pushing herself up off the couch again, she crossed to him slowly, pacing a lazy circle around him like a shark sizing up whether a swimmer was worth the bite.

[color=yellow]“Either they hated you… or they thought it'd be fun to watch you choke on everything you used to believe in.”[/color] She stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze. [color=yellow]“Me? I can appreciate that kind of theatrical spite.”[/color]

He sighed. [color=#3A5F7F]“At least someone’s enjoying the show.”[/color]

She shrugged tapping ash off the end of her joint, grin widening like a blade being unsheathed.

[color=yellow]“Don’t worry, Z. You’re in good company.”[/color] She winked at him before grabbing his contact info off the counter. She looked down at it before slipping it into her back pocket. 

Vex’s smirk lingered for a beat longer, then faded—melting into something quieter, something real. Her yellow eyes lost a bit of their glow, but none of their intensity as she looked at him—not with pity, but with that rare flicker of understanding that only comes from shared damnation.

She let her gaze drift over him, slow and deliberate, taking in the way he stood, the way he breathed, the tension he still wore like armor he didn’t know how to shed. It wasn’t judgment in her eyes. It was recognition.

[color=yellow]“It’s a hell of a life you’ve got ahead of you,”[/color] she said, softer now. Honest. [color=yellow]“No rules, no handbook, no backup waiting in the wings. Just you… and the hunger.”[/color]

His jaw clenched at the word “hunger.” He swallowed hard, feeling the unfamiliar press of fangs against his lip. A muscle twitched in his cheek as his eyes darted away from hers. When he looked back, his expression had hardened, but the slight tremor in his fist, balled tight at his side, gave him away.

She tilted her head slightly, looking him dead in the eye.

[color=yellow]“The moment you step out that door, the world’s gonna look different. Smell different. Feel different.”[/color] She paused, her voice dipping into something nearly reverent. [color=yellow]“Every face you see? Every heartbeat you hear? It’s all gonna hit you like music through blown speakers. Raw and too damn loud.”[/color]

[color=#3A5F7F]“... Noted.”[/color]

She pulled the joint to her lips, took a slow drag, the ember briefly lighting the sharp cut of her cheekbone. Her exhale curled between them like a ghost. [color=yellow]“For your sake…”[/color] she said, her voice a smoky whisper now, [color=yellow]“I hope the world’s kind to you.”[/color]

[color=yellow]“But don’t count on it.”[/color] her eyes glanced over to the spare room [color=yellow]“You can however count on that room being vacant if you need it.”[/color]

Through the cracked window, dusk painted the cityscape in hues of purple and amber. Zachariah watched as a distant neon sign flickered to life, its garish colors harsh against the dying light.

[color=#3A5F7F]“From experience, I know the world won’t be kind.”[/color] Quiet words, delivered without bitterness—just the calm certainty of someone who’d long ago stopped expecting fairness from the universe.

Vex shot him a look that was dark and full of unspoken meaning—before turning on her heel and flicked the dying ember of her joint into the chipped basin of her kitchen sink. The sizzle it made was faint, but final.

The cabinet above creaked as she opened it. Inside, two mugs sat like silent sentinels of memory. One was clean, pristine—clearly never used. The other was aged and stained, its ceramic worn with time and affection. It bore the ghost of a hundred black coffees and twice as many mornings. [i]Bear’s mug.[/i] Her gaze lingered on it, sharp and distant, but she didn’t touch it. She never did. It stayed right where he left it,the last morning he was here,as if using it might erase him completely.

Above the shelf, barely balanced on a crooked nail, hung a battered old first aid kit. It looked like it had survived a war, dented metal and peeling paint giving away its long years in service. She yanked it down with a practiced hand and opened it. Inside, chaos.Expired gauze, frayed tape, a pair of rusted scissors. But she found what she needed: a length of cotton-wrapped bandage and a couple of alcohol pads.

Her healing factor would do most of the work, eventually. But she wasn’t stupid. Infection didn’t care if you were supernatural. The cut on her wrist was shallow, but jagged and she wasn’t about to risk it festering. Not over pride.

She didn’t flinch as she tore the alcohol pad open with her teeth. Just breathed out, low and steady as she cleaned up the wound.

Military-straight despite his injuries, he turned back to face Vex. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. [color=#3A5F7F]“I appreciate the offer, Vex. But if I’m going to be your new roommate, you’ll have to invest in cleaning supplies. ‘Demolition site aesthetic’ might be your style, but I prefer my tetanus shots preventative rather than reactive.”[/color]

Vex didn’t miss a beat. Her yellow eyes narrowed with that dangerous glint—half challenge, half amusement—as she slowly wrapped the bandage around her arm. 

[color=yellow]“Oh, [i]Sugar[/i], if you’re planning on moving in, you’d better get real comfortable with bloodstains and broken things.”[/color] She tied off the bandage clasping it shut with a metal gaurd. 

[color=yellow]“And if you think I’m the type to start scrubbing floors just because some wounded war hero waltzes in with a broom and a superiority complex…”[/color] She let the sentence hang as she finished wrapping the bandage tight around her wrist, the cotton blooming red beneath her fingers.

[color=yellow]“...Then you’re in for one hell of a rude awakening, roomie.”[/color]

Zachariah cocked one eyebrow up. [color=#3A5F7F]“I’m pretty sure all I said was that you need cleaning supplies.”[/color] Where did all this other stuff come from? He didn’t need to wonder long. Of course—he was, or had been, a Warden. She clearly harbored no love for his kind; simple as that. At least the sentiment ran both ways.

She winked, slow and smug, then tossed the dented container back into the cupboard with a clatter, slamming the door shut with her hip. [color=yellow]“Hope your immune system’s as tough as your mouth,”[/color] she purred, her voice velvet-wrapped steel. [color=yellow]“I wasn’t offering scented candles and throw pillows, sweetheart. Just a roof and four walls that don’t ask questions.”[/color]

She turned then, golden eyes settling on him with a predator’s calm. There was something thoughtful behind them—buried deep beneath the sarcasm and smoke.

[color=yellow]“I know you’ve got a place to crawl back to. I’m sure it smells like antiseptic and regret.”[/color] Her lip twitched in a half-smile, more fang than friendly. [color=yellow]“But being a spawn? That’s a scent that travels. And a Warden, no less…”[/color] Her gaze dragged over him slowly, like she was assessing the weight of the new monster in his blood.

She shrugged, careless and deliberate. [color=yellow]“You’re gonna light up like a bonfire to the things that go bump in the night. This place?”[/color] She gestured vaguely to the dim, cluttered apartment around them. [color=yellow]“It’s not much. But it’s off-grid. Unlisted. A little fucked up—just like us.”[/color]

She leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, her voice softening just a hair. [color=yellow]“So if it ever gets too loud out there… you know where to crawl.”[/color]

A cascade of problems awaited him outside these shattered walls. His apartment. Reed Financial Forensics. His family. The Wardens. His future in general... if he’d choose to endure this twisted mockery of life - this unholy existence he’d spent years eradicating from the world.

Bone-deep weariness weighed in his body and mind. [color=#3A5F7F]“For now... I need to get my things in order.”[/color] 

Vex nodded in understand, turning to leaned against her kitchen counter. One ankle slid over the other, arms folding under her chest in a posture that looked casual but wasn’t.

With a measured breath, he shifted his weight and met Vex’s gaze. [color=#3A5F7F]“Mind telling me where you found me?”[/color]

Her golden eyes slid to him slowly, one brow arching like his question mildly amused her.

[color=yellow]“Where I found you?”[/color] she echoed, tone flat and unimpressed. [color=yellow]“Behind a nightclub. Real classy spot downtown, near that dive where vampires go to forget how to use forks.”[/color]

She clicked her tongue, tilting her head. [color=yellow]“I don’t usually go near that place. Too many blood junkies and not enough brain cells.”[/color] A dry smile tugged at her lips. [color=yellow]“But lucky you, I was in a charitable mood.”[/color]

Had he been actually lucky, he wouldn’t have been turned in the first place.

She let that hang as she shifted her weight just enough to let her hip jut out slightly.

[color=yellow]“You were laid out in the alley like someone’s leftover regret. Bleeding like hell, reeking of rot and bad decisions. There was so much blood in your mouth I thought you’d gone full psycho and drained someone dry.”[/color]

She paused, giving him a once-over that wasn’t kind. [color=yellow]“Except there was no body. No fang marks. No fangs. Just a hot mess of bite wounds.”[/color]

Vex gave a shrug. [color=yellow]“Dead, almost. But not quite. No rigor. Just a few pitiful little breaths wheezing out like your body hadn’t figured out it was supposed to give up yet.”[/color]

Her expression darkened, just for a second—but it passed.

[color=yellow]“Honestly? I almost left you there. Should’ve. But you kept mumbling some dramatic line—‘Can’t let it win’—like you were in a bad noir film. As I said earlier, I have a thing for the underdog. The fight you had left made me change my mind.”[/color]

Zachariah wondered if she now regretted that charity.

[color=yellow]“So I threw your nearly-dead ass on the back of my bike, wrapped your limp arms around my neck like some sad little vampire backpack, and drove home one-handed. You're welcome, by the way. No applause necessary.”[/color]

She gave him a smirk.

[color=yellow]“So congratulations, soldier. You didn’t die in a piss-stained alley behind a Fae blood bar. You made it to my floor instead. Upgrade, huh?”[/color]

Zachariah’s gaze drifted across the apartment—the “demolition site aesthetic” in all its glory. [color=#3A5F7F]“... Sure.”[/color] His mind conjured images of used needles or forgotten trash lurking in the corners, and couldn’t help the intrusive thought about whether werewolves pissed to mark their territory like their four-legged cousins. The thought made him grimace.

But when he met her gaze again, something shifted. Despite everything—despite what they both were, despite the mess, despite the strangeness of it all—she’d dragged his half-dead body here and kept him alive. Or whatever version of alive he was now.

[color=#3A5F7F]“Thank you.”[/color] Just that. Nothing more.

Vex offered him a nod not willing to push it further. 

Then his eyes drifted to the exit, and he sighed. [color=#3A5F7F]“I should get going.”[/color] While he still had the chance.

One step toward the door, then he stopped, turned, and pointed at the room where he’d spent the last few days. [color=#3A5F7F]“Can I take a pack?”[/color] He didn’t want to drink blood. But damned if he was going to attack someone the next time he got the urge to feed.

[color=yellow]“Take it all,”[/color] she said, a lazy smile playing on her lips. [color=yellow]“I raided a clinic for it. AB, O, rare types too. A little buffet for the starving.”[/color] She gave a slow, indifferent shrug, the glint in her eyes anything but innocent. [color=yellow]“Honestly, I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long without needing more. Plus it’s not like im in the habit of bringing home stray vampires…”[/color] she grinned.

[color=#3A5F7F]“Is any of it synthetic?”[/color] he asked, then almost immediately shook his head. [color=#3A5F7F]“No, never mind.”[/color] It hardly mattered at this point. Until he could stand on his feet, beggars couldn’t be choosers. His future as a vampire was far from guaranteed anyway.

[color=#3A5F7F]“The less I take, the better,”[/color] Zachariah said, voice firm with newfound resolve. While he might need blood to keep from losing his mind to the Curse, he wasn’t about to indulge it. The bare minimum—that’s all he’d allow himself. Just enough to function, to think clearly, to remember who he was and the promise he made to Elijah.

His attention lingered on Vex for a moment, taking her measure one final time. A half-smile briefly appeared as he turned toward the spare room. [color=#3A5F7F]“I’ll make sure to leave a few behind,”[/color] he called over his shoulder. [color=#3A5F7F]“In case the vampire distribution system strikes again and you happen to feel charitable.”[/color]

[color=yellow]“Very unlikely. I don’t believe my apartment could withstand another spawn.”[/color]

Her eyes narrowed. He was still fighting it. Clinging to control like it was a virtue, as if taking little sips of damnation would make him any less damned. Cute.

The second he steps outside, that pretty little leash he's got on himself is going to snap. The pulse of the city, the rot in the air, the scent of blood in every alley—he’s not ready.

[color=yellow][i]But he’s not my problem. I’m not his keeper.[/i][/color]

She could picture Bear sprawled out on the couch, [i]“stop bringing the strays home, Vex. Sooner or later, they will bite.” [/i] He was always right about that. Still... there’s something different about this one. Maybe he’s stronger than he looks. Maybe the hunger won’t hollow him out. Maybe.

He’s a Warden, after all.

Not that it makes it any less unlikely. At the end of the day, Spawn were worse then Vampires. Unpredictable, insatiable, feral. 

[color=yellow]“Stay safe.”[/color] Vex finally said. This evening was certainly going to be interesting.[/color]