Off With Her Head [Trinity]

[Tate]

There weren’t many days that gave Tate the freedom to enjoy the sunshine the way that she wanted to, so when the occasion rolled around, she dressed in a pair of high-waist shorts, a simple black tank top that allowed the tattoo on her chest to be visible and carried her denim jacket out with her. She ran from the crypt to the bank, pausing to withdraw twenty dollars, and then made her way quietly down to one of the parks she had frequented after Melisande had disappeared again. Deep down, she knew that her best friend had abandoned her once again for the shadow realm, but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. It would hurt her too badly.

She walked for a while, listening to the heartbeats and the squeals of children as she pulled her jacket on after getting a look from an older woman about the ink covering her skin. The looks of disapproval were something that she had gotten used to. Her own parents had scolded her about her first tattoo. She had been sixteen and it had been done by a guy that she had been dating at the time. The tattoo, admittedly, had been a bad idea in her rebellion, but “Catherine” then didn’t care. She had simply smiled and her grandmother had scolded them for telling her off. Her mother had asked “why she wanted to make herself ugly by marking her skin” only to be told that her body was canvas and it was her body.

At school, her coach had lectured her.

Since then, the tattoo had been covered by numerous others.

Tate thought idly about Cavanagh as she passed a bench that the two had sat on in the winter, about the date he had implied that he wanted to take her on and then he too, had disappeared and Tate was alright with it. If he cared, he’d return. And so, he had recently. She’d felt the familiar sensation of his inspiration and returned the favor. She’d catch up with him or Bianca at some point, right? The ginger pulled her hair back into a low ponytail as she noticed a group of people hovering over by one of the benches.

The smell of pumpkin spice caused her to pause, a frown playing across her lips as she recognized it as a woman that she’d been following for a while. She had a unique name. Triton. Tierney. “Those aren’t it.” She rubbed her hands idly and continued walking, paying attention quietly while she tried to think of the name. Another woman stood by and as Tate focused in on the blonde’s heartbeat, she noticed something very quickly.

The one she didn’t recognize was a vampire.

And she looked pissed.

"Trinity."

Tate thought that she reminded her a little bit of Constance.

[Trinity]

Two months ago…

“I can’t wait until you meet him, Trinity. He’s so sweet and charming, you’ll just love him!”

Annabelle’s voice cut through the kitchen and into the living room, and she slowly removed her earphones to turn and look at her. If it hadn’t been for the pause between songs, she never would have heard the overjoyed musical voice. Raising a brow, Trinity bit into her lower lip and gave her a skeptical look. “Meet who, Bell? You’re jumping thoughts again.”

As Annabelle gave her an exasperated look, she closed down her computer and turned, legs tucked beneath her, to give her sister her full attention. “My fiancé, silly girl, he’s coming for dinner tonight. Remember?” Ah, yes – the mysterious man that had stolen her sisters heart in a matter of weeks. She remembered her father nearly having a heart attack when Annabelle had delivered the news of their engagement. None of them had met the man, and yet, the brunette seemed adamant in making their life a living hell with him by keeping them all in the shadows. Well, until tonight, apparently.

“I might not be here. You knew I had plans,” she reminded her, and nearly withered beneath the cold glare that the woman cast her.

“You will here, Trinity Skyye, or I’ll tell mother who you were with last Friday.” Those simple words were enough to have her blood turning cold. Her mother had been making a point to be the most cliché rich wife in the world by sleeping with the Latin pool-boy. To make it a little less cliché, Trinity had slept with him, too. The devious plan had been the end result of a tequila night, and now she regretted it.

“Fine, I’ll be there. I swear, it’s like want me to be murdered and skinned alive.”

“I only threaten you because I love you, dear. Seven o’clock. Do not be late!”

-------------

She had been late.

By the time she had walked into the dining room, the entire family was seated and getting ready to be served. She could practically hear her sister’s venomous thoughts as the butler pulled out her chair. “Miss Ford,” he whispered, a hint of laughter in his gravelly voice when he put her plate in front of her.

Winking at him, she finally turned to look around the table, searching for the mystery man before introductions were made. Her gaze landed on him, just as her father said his name.

Time stopped.
Her heart thudded violently.

“Trinity, I’d like you to meet Antonio Martinez.”

She didn’t have to meet him. She knew him. She knew that charismatic smile, that dimple in his cheek. She knew his sparkling blue eyes that danced with amusement. Swallowing thickly, she tried to force a smile of her own, but her lips felt like steel trapped in a shocked frown. Her family was looking at her expectantly, but what was she supposed to say? ‘Oh, hey, yeah, your fiancé is my boyfriend that I just had sex with last night?’ They wouldn’t understand her, or believe that she didn’t know.

No, she couldn’t say anything. Instead, she stood up and put down her napkin. “It was nice to meet you, Antonio,” she said politely, before quickly excusing herself.

The next day, she had left Chile.

Present Day…

It had been two weeks since she’d fled from her home like a coward. Instead of facing her demons, she had packed her bags, grabbed her credit cards and ran. Her phone had rang off the hook non-stop for the first week, until slowly the calls began to lessen. Now, it was just her sister calling every day like clock-work. She’d made the mistake of answering once before, and she couldn’t bring herself to do it again. Her sister was upset that she’d missed the wedding, her voicemails ranging from depressed to so angry; Trinity swore she could feel the fire through the line. No, she couldn’t answer it.

She couldn’t tell her the truth.

Instead, she found herself wandering Harper Rock with a few hundred dollars in cash and no home. She’d gone from the high-life to homeless in a matter of weeks and the irony wasn’t lost on her. Her mother’s voice rang clear in her mind, that chilling, snobby tone telling her over and over again that she’d get what she deserved. Celeste had made it more than clear that she’d never make it in life, not with the way she lived. So, she enjoyed herself. Was she supposed to be a heartless **** like the woman that birthed her? “Forget it, Trinity,” she muttered to herself, hand brushing through her blonde curls.

There really was no reason to keep dwelling on the past. She could never go back, could she? She was a fucked up person and had destroyed the one person that had stood by her through it all. Annabelle forgave her anything, but she knew in her heart she could never forgive her for ******* her fiancé. There was no reason for her to believe that Trinity hadn’t known, that Antonio hadn’t told her. There was no reason for her to believe anything that she said. At least, that was what she kept telling herself as her phone rang and she found a park bench and stretched onto it.

She was exhausted.

She had no home.
No friends.
No family.

She was virtually alone. Wasn’t that perfect? For all of her crimes she committed, for all the lies she told, all the pain she caused – she deserved more than being forced to a life of homeless solitude. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and tucked her bag beneath her head as she bent her leg at the knee. To anyone passing, she would just look like she was enjoying the sun on her skin. No one would be able to tell that her world was slowly unraveling by her own hand.

“You think you’re some hot *****, don’t you?”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tone so cold, that it sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly, she peeked open one eye to look at her, a brow rising.

“Who the **** are you?”

Instead of receiving an answer, the stranger curled her fingers around her bicep and lifted her easily from the bench. Surprise had Trinity frozen, eyes widening as she found herself dragged. “Let me go, you freak. What the hell is wrong with you?” She couldn’t fight back. Hell, she couldn’t do anything but follow behind like a rag doll. She easily had at least fifty pounds on the woman pulling her through the park, but she had an iron grip that was causing her bones to grind together. She could hear the other muttering beneath her breath as her fingers dug into her soft flesh, but she couldn’t make out a single word.

“Seriously, I don’t know what your problem is, but let m—“

She was suddenly airborne, back crashing into the wall on the far side of the alley. Tears burned her eyes as she tried to catch her breath, vision blurry as the woman – no, not woman, monster – advanced on her. Putting her palms onto the dirty ground, she tried to crawl backwards, one hand searching for a weapon of any kind to defend herself with. ****, what was this freaks issue with her? As the woman advanced, she curled her fingers around a copper pipe and swung out, the make-shift weapon connecting to her jaw with a loud thud. Her head should have snapped back, she should have done something, but instead she just rubbed her jaw and curled her fingers around her throat.

“He’s mine, you ******* whore.”

She was going to die for a man she didn’t even know about.
Well, wasn't that ironic?

[Tate]

There weren’t many vampires that Tate liked. Actually, scratch that, there weren’t many people that Tate liked; what had been a minor rolling of the eyes and sarcasm before her turning had shifted into full blown hostility. Cai and Judas had been spared, as did a few others in her blood line or previously claimed family in DC, and Cavanagh, but since then, she kept to herself and her rituals. She would bare her fangs in warning, roll her eyes, or saunter away to just avoid conversation where thinly veiled insults were a given or she’d narrow her eyes in a glare, scowl or be accused of being rude to be rude.

“At least Judas understands.” She murmured to herself as she went.

“Your sire can’t say much. The man has three different distinctive personalities, Catty.”

Alicia’s voice entered past her thoughts, the dead girl becoming visible to only Tate’s eyes as she strolled along the street and allowed the ginger to appear that she was talking to herself. After seven months, she no longer cared what the residents in Harper Rock thought about her. Hazel eyes narrowed momentarily before she turned her attention to the campaign banners here and there. “Yay voting season.” The sarcasm made the dead girl laugh in amusement. When Tate extended her claws, she swiped at her once pretty friend’s stomach and the laughter ended immediately before being replaced with a distinctive huff.

The next time Tate looked at her, Alicia’s normal state had morphed into a grotesque reminder of the night that her friend had died – her arm was missing, there was a nasty gash across her stomach and it was very much evident her death had been painful. The coroner had explained to Tate that she’d been alive for most of the torture. During the questioning from the police in the hospital, the ginger had shoved one away from her before running into the bathroom and vomiting after witnessing a crime scene photo. Now, Tate was nothing but numb to the appearance. Numb, like she had been when she stumbled away from the torn off arm and fell down into the sewer.

She had crawled her way to salvation, claimed a police officer. Tate didn’t remember much of it but the fear, and then vomiting on some dude’s shoes. “Can’t you not look like roadkill for once?” She asked gruffly to the dead girl. At her left, another girl looked annoyed at the question and picked up her pace. Alicia laughed, and then vanished while she heard a phone ringing.

When Tate took note of the approaching vampire to Trinity, she could see that the other meant trouble. The ginger moved her hand to the gun hidden beneath the hem of her shirt and decided to just wait. She followed, however, with a sigh escaping past her lips as she watched the unknown woman pull the girl away. Leaning into a tree, she watched from afar when Trinity was thrown. “Powers in front of a human, check.” She could feel the possessive urge rising from within as she lowered her hand to allow her claws to morph back into her normal nails one by one.

It was when the blonde fought back that Tate made her decision. She watched the way the copper pipe smacked against the vampire’s skin and gave a shake of her head. Glancing around to make sure no one paid attention, she activated celerity and made her way there as if she’d been there all along. “You know there, Pumpkin, if you’re going to be a bit of a hassle, you can at least do some damage when you piss off some temperamental bimbo.” At five-foot even, she knew that she didn’t look much like anything.

Laughter escaped the other vampire’s lips as she tightened her hold on Trinity, right until Tate reached up and grabbed the female’s collar, shoving her off. “I claimed this one. Back the **** off.” Slipping between Trinity and the pissed off vamp, she took advantage of the blonde being unable to see her fangs as she bared them. “Before I make you.” Tate growled lowly.

[Trinity]

As she pressed her hand to the cement, she felt the dirt and grime dig into her palms. It sent a shiver down her spine, and for a brief moment, she was more distracted by trying to figure out what exactly she had landed in. She couldn’t discern one smell from the other, and instead, she was fairly certain that she had landed in something toxic. If her sister could see her, she would surely laugh. She could practically hear her caring, yet snide comment as if the brunette was right next to her. It’d more than likely have something to do with the fact that she always found herself in trouble, maybe even through in an insult about her breasts drawing them in.

Annabelle.

The name brought on a fresh wave of misery, something that the ***** in front of her could never manage. Even if she were to peel all the skin from her bones and wear it as a dress, she’d never hurt her as much as she hurt herself. As if her subconscious knew death was approaching, it reared its head and filled her with enough guilt to cause her to whimper. The sound brought a sinister smile to her attacker’s lips, and she swore she was talking, yet the regret was too loud for her to listen to the incessant rambling. Instead, she blinked slowly, as if she were living in a fog, and thought over everything she was going to lose out on. She’d never get a chance to apologize, to explain. She shouldn’t have ran, she saw that now. This was far worse than anything she would have faced at her sister’s hands, wasn’t it?

Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she turned her sharp gaze back to the woman as she took another step closer. There was an animalistic gleam in her eyes, and for a moment, the sound of a rabid dog filled the alleyway. Upon closer inspection, she noticed it was the coming from the woman. Why hadn’t she killed her yet? Was this some kind of lunatic tactic? Seriously, it was getting old. Her mind raced to piece together some sort of final words. Perhaps some miracle would allow her sister to know how sorry she was, but she knew apologizing into the wind was selfish. It would only serve to alleviate her guilt. It would do nothing to help her sister. It wasn’t as if she deserved forgiveness. No, she shouldn’t be thinking about herself. She had caused too much damage, she had inflicted suffering on too many lives. As her eyes opened once again and she met the savage glare, she gave a cold smile.

No, this was exactly what she deserved.
She deserved pain.
Torture.
To die at the hands of a sadistic, mentally deranged lunatic.
Only then, could she be redeemed.

Just as she accepted her fate, another figure appeared, her small stature amusing her for a brief moment. If she hadn’t been able to take on the psychotic *****, what did the redhead expect to do? Carefully, she kept her eyes on the psycho as she reached for the pipe again. “You shouldn’t be here, just go. There’s no point in both of us getting killed,” she snapped, though dread filled her stomach. It was probably too late for the redhead. As if reading her thoughts, the monster turned on her, a feral growl tearing from her throat as she crouched down, as if preparing to attack. “The whore is mine. Going around ******* things that don’t belong to her. She is –mine.-“ She didn’t bother giving Trinity time to defend herself, instead, she launched from her spot and slammed into the redhead. The sound was deafening as their bodies collided together, and Trinity quickly moved to scramble to her feet.

The second she stood to her full height, the world began to spin. “Oh, ****,” she gasped, a sharp pain burning through her skull. As she tried to take a step towards the mouth of the alley, it was as if someone pulled her back. Her foot didn’t even lift, before she was falling back into the wall, darkness taking over her vision. She had to get out of there, she had to get help…

… but maybe a nap first …

[Tate]

There was concern in the back of her mind as she watched the situation play out, waiting as she listened and tried to figure out what to do, how to end it without getting the blonde killed... right up until the moment that she caught the scent of chemicals mixing with that perfume that often drew her in. As she listened to the other talk, her eyes moved over Trinity, taking in the woman’s form to find if she was wounded. The woman was hers, dammit. Or at least that’s how Tate felt. She had plans and this ***** was ******* with them.

Even as she drew closer, Tate could hear the whimper and it took her almost all of her self-restraint to not pull out her gun and put a well-placed bullet directly into the other’s smiling lips. Anger boiled within her system, the rage something that she had since gotten used to as she found the daily annoyance that came with needing to feed often adding to her usually negative mood. “Do you do anything but talk?” She sneered once she was within hearing range of the other. The other vampire paid her no mind. With each growl echoing off the walls, Tate studied the area. Secluded, one human. It could be done. Mentally, she thought about her sire and how she suspected Cai – Judas, whichever personality would be there when she got home, would feel. Fighting in front of human? It could probably get her killed – again.

“Don’t worry about me, just get gone.” She hissed at the blonde, not taking her eyes off the one in front of her as she studied the way she stood, waiting for something. When she noticed the other beginning to tense, Tate shouted out to the one behind her, “Run!” just before the other vampire sprang. Her hands morphed into claws, grasping the cloth of the shirt before she punctured skin as they hit the ground causing Tate to grunt as her back met concrete. Once she heard the blonde moving, she shoved with all of her strength to knock the snarling and hissing vampire off her before scrambling to her own feet. The unknown vampire recovered faster than expected, twisting to spring towards the other, and Tate heard the gasp. Without hesitation, her hand went to the gun she kept on her and the weight was in her hand.

It came to her as a surprise when the other vampire bared her fangs and vanished from sight, Tate’s jaw clenching in annoyance as she made a mental note to hunt her down later just as she heard, “Don’t forget about the girl” entered her mind from Alicia. Promptly, Tate turned on her heel and went to the bosomy blonde before crouching down beside her. The amount of chemicals that she could smell on her was sickening, but vaguely, she could still smell that pleasing pumpkin scent that caused Tate to want her. She slapped her cheek once, twice and then scooped her up into her arms. “Just hold on a bit, pumpkin. Can’t do any of this here.” Afterwards, she began to make her way towards the nearest station that would take her to Beta Towers and ignored any looks received.

[Trinity]

There wasn’t a reason that she could think of that she shouldn’t be tucking tail and heading out into the city and away from the impossible scene in front of her. Unless, of course, she counted the fact that her muscles seemed to rebel against her and there was a steady stream of blood staining her blond curls crimson. That might have something to do with the fact that she could barely twitch her fingers, let alone walk, but she had to do something, didn't she? Gritting her teeth, she managed to press her back firmly to the wall behind her a second before the world tilted on its axis. With the sudden lack of equilibrium, her weight was too much to handle and her knees buckled. "****." She couldn’t fight gravity a second time, and soon found herself back where she started – *** firmly planted in the puddle of foul smelling ooze.

She really she have tried harder to figure out what chemicals she had found herself practically bathing in.

The more she breathed in the putrid scent of the toxins, the more she found herself unable to process the scene in front of her. It was like watching a bad quality film by someone who didn’t know that over-using filters did not in fact make their story seem more hip. Where she should see colors, she saw nothing but muted blues and greys, and it seemed as if she were watching it all from an old television that couldn’t receive reception. Swallowing thickly, the blonde tried to speak, but the only sound she managed to make was a loose groan that sounded as weak as a newborn kitten. Just get out of here kept circling around in her mind, and she couldn’t help but find the amusement in it.

That’s more easily said than done, sweetheart. I’ll get right on that.

Attempting to find enough traction to heave her form upwards, she dug her converse into the asphalt in front of her and put her hand against the brick, her clouded vision never leaving the pair. She didn’t understand why she was still trying to fight the inevitable. She was going to die, she deserved to die – and so she would. It was as if the misery took the fight from her, and she stopped struggling against fate. Her bent leg went limp and her arms fell back to her sides, head lolling to the side just in time to catch the glint of the gun. The words to stop her died on her tongue as darkness seeped into her mind like a long lost friend and she sank comfortably into a state unconsciousness.

Look at you, causing trouble yet again.