[Emerson] Kill of the night

[Bjorn]

The telepath watched Emerson as she reacted, uncertain whether it was silence acquiescence, or unspoken acceptance. He didn’t strive too hard to make sense of her reaction, gladly accepting the continuation of their conversation.

He smiled in return.

Lancaster disliked the intrusion, and Bjorn had a feeling so would the majority. He used his ability to mentally communicate infrequently. He intellectually understood that being on the receiving end might be jarring. Having never been exposed to it himself however, he didn’t quite grasp why it could be taken as an offence. As far as he was concerned, a mind reader was far more violating in nature than a telepath could ever be. On the rare occasion that the thought occurred to him, the vampire did wonder whether he’d one day develop the ability to read minds too.

“I’ll make sure to have a functioning phone by then,” he said, fiddling with the darkened fabric of his sweatshirt. By nightfall he’d be able to pat away the dried blood, but the tear damage was too severe to salvage.

“You gonna be okay...?”

Bjorn halfheartedly waved his hand behind his head to indicate the head injury she’d suffered.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson didn’t mind the telepathic communication if it was what would work best for Bjorn. She’d never experienced much like it before that she could really remember, but she could see how it could become a bother. She couldn’t really reply in a way that he would hear unless they were standing face to face like they were then, and he could always happen to catch her at the wrong time. Otherwise, it seemed rather useful. The girl temporarily wondered if there was a way for her to learn to communicate through mind speak. Maybe it would’ve been easier than mustering up the courage to stutter and mumble her way through her words.

“If you’re gonna have a phone…” She didn’t finish her sentence, sliding the backpack off her shoulders and dropping it to the ground once again. The brunette unzipped the biggest pocket, shifting through her things in search of something to write with and something to write on. There was, of course, the coloring book and colored pencils she always brought. Emerson flipped through the pages, found a finished one, and tore it out. The paper was flipped over onto the back, and in a pink colored pencil, she wrote out her name and her phone number. The rest of her belongings were returned to the bag, which was zipped closed and promptly put back on her shoulders. She held out the paper for him. “Here y’go. My number and a pretty picture to hang on your fridge, if you wanna.” The coloring consisted of some type of mandala design, filled in with cool-toned blues and purples.

Emerson shrugged her shoulders, trying to hide the fact that she was happy to be checked on. “Doesn’t hurt that much anymore,” she admitted. The pain was dull, but she’d still be icing the spot when she got the chance. Washing the blood out of her hair was going to be a hassle she didn’t want to think about. “Wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t remember who you are when you call.” Despite its seriousness, the girl said it as a joke, laughing at the end of it. “Just try to jog my memory if I forget, yeah?”

[Bjorn]

Bjorn took the offered piece of paper, turning it over to look at the inked drawing she’d coloured in. Folding it while holding onto a sword proved challenging, but it was better than giving it a try single-handedly. Task accomplished, he glanced up at Emerson with a bemused expression.

“You got some Drew Barrymore 50 dates thing going on?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket for the tome Lancaster had given him. He stashed Emerson’s drawing and number along the back page and cover before tucking it back into his pocket. Unbeknownst to his current company, he was immensely pleased not to not have lost the tome.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

Emerson blinked at Bjorn’s question. She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

The girl tried to process his question in case she’d missed something that was obvious. Emerson didn’t know the name Drew Barrymore, but she assumed that this Drew was a person, and a person that suffered from memory loss. But what did fifty dates have anything to do with that? Was this something she was just supposed to know? Maybe she’d known about it before. Maybe she’d just forgotten.

“Um…” she mumbled, twisting at the ends of her hair. “I guess? Sorry. Don’t know that one.” Emerson offered him an apologetic smile before continuing. “I hit my head really bad a few months ago and stopped remembering a lot of stuff. Not sure if hitting my head again will do the same thing, but, y’know.” The toe of her shoe came to kick at a nearby rock, sending it skidding away and towards the exit of the park. “I should go. I don’t wanna keep you around more than I have to.” One last flitting glance was cast back at the fallen Fadebeast. It looked as if it was beginning to deteriorate into ash, but would take a while in the process. “Should we move that?” she wondered.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn felt like somewhat of an *** when Emerson explained herself. He refrained from uttering any halfhearted apologies however. From the looks of it, she was eager to part ways, and he had no reason or desire to keep her. The only thing he craved right now, more so than the comfort of his own bed, was a pack or three of blood. He’d get it from the shop, and, for a change, wouldn’t even try to palter for a discount.

He looked down at the beast in question before sparing their surroundings a panoramic glance. The sirens had echoed close by, but evidently the police were not destined to their location. Another stroke of luck, as if the universe was apologising for setting that goddamn abomination on them.

“Nah, dust to dust, ashes to ashes, and the like,” he said, tapping it with the end of the sword. The flesh of the malformed arm had since turned grey, and was now crumbling like a sand castle left in the sun too long. He dropped the sword to his side as he reached into his pocket for the tome.

“Guess this is it. I’ll give you a holler about the training.” he said, tucking the sword under his unwounded armpit. He balled his free hand into a fist and held it out.

[Emerson (DELETED 8699)]

If Emerson had understood the context of Bjorn’s question, she probably wouldn’t have been offended. In fact, she probably would’ve joked around with the idea of having her memory wiped after every passing day. But that wasn’t the case. Fifty First Dates, starring Drew Barrymore, was a film. A movie. Something seen only on a television screen. The brunette, unlike many of those she had run into, didn’t watch anything - shows or the like. She couldn’t even remember a time in which she’d actually touched a television remote. Then again, she couldn’t remember much of anything.

Emerson watched as Bjorn demonstrated that the Fadebeast was disintegrating at a much faster rate than she had presumed. It was terrifying and fascinating all at the same time. Her fear of being shredded by one overruled her curiosity of wanting to learn about the monster up close, so she’d stick to the computers at the cafes to get the information she wanted.

On the contrary to a handshake or something similar, a fist was offered Emerson’s way. She peered at it, then up at Bjorn. One of her own hands was lifted, curled into a small fist, and brought his way. However, at the last second, she passed by his hand, stopped by his wrist, and put up two fingers, glittery nail polish flickering in the light. She looked up at him - everyone was so tall - with excited emerald eyes and a smile. “Snail!” she said before pulling away. "Yeah. Text, call. Whatever's easiest."

No longer needed, Emerson turned away from the male on her heel and was off, her steps quick and slightly bouncy as a force of habit. There were few other means of transportation that she could afford (such as a car) or that she’d be comfortable in (such as a bus), so she stuck to her feet and small frame to carry her quickly from place to place. “Bye, Bjorn!” she called over her shoulder, bringing a hand up to wave before disappearing out of sight.

[Bjorn]

That... was not what he’d expected. Bjorn raised both brows at the infantile display, facial expression softening at the sight of her amusement. That wasn’t one he’d experienced before, and there was a part of him that wished he’d never have to. He shook his fingers out before he reached to peer open the tome.

“Will do,” he confirmed, watching her turn on her heel. When she waved back at him, he lifted his hand, index finger tucked between the tome’s pages. Then, within seconds, he disappeared from the spot he’d been standing in, as if he’d never been there at all.