one.

the witch and the assassin

MAEV BAREBONE TIPPED her head back, pieces of her hair sticking to her glistening skin, and parted her lips, letting the liquid fire cascade down her throat. The witch slammed the shot glass down, her eyes alight with feverous intent. 

She wasn't one to normally drink but today had been, simply put, fucking terrible, and so she found herself sitting on a lopsided chair in a bar in a questionable location. But, to be fair, most places on this side of the town were pretty questionable, including the apartment building where she lived. 

Maev stared at the inch of grime covering the table, eyes slowly unfocusing. This was her twelfth shot, but human alcohol was weaker than what she'd had before, so the only sign of intoxication was the softening of her thoughts and the gentle humming of her blood as it worked to erase the alcohol from her system. She raised her index finger lazily and the bartender—a middle-aged woman who'd been serving her all night —walked over, leaning against the counter.

"More shots?"

Maev shook her head, "I want something stronger, in fact... give me your strongest drink."

The woman gazed at her for a moment with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering if Maev still had enough money to cover the tab she'd wracked up so far. "You sure? You've already downed a lot of alcohol."

Humans, they love to act sympathetic and yet, they're all so hungry for the same things.

Maev took out her wallet and placed a small stack of bills on the table, more than enough to cover the cheap alcohol she'd already consumed. The bartender walked off and Maev drummed her fingers on the counter, watching the woman mix her drink, the bright colors clashing together. 

The bartender set the drink down, took the bills on the table and sauntered off, most likely seeing what she could take for a tip.

Once the bartender's back was turned, Maev brought her thumb up to her mouth and pricked it on her abnormally sharp canine tooth, letting a single drop of blood fall into the drink. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out her sunglasses, putting them on, and stared at her drink, feeling her eyes start to burn as she whispered a few specific words under her breath.

It wasn't a difficult spell by any means, all she was doing was heightening the alcohol content to a level where she'd feel it affect her for once, but Maev found that she was having trouble concentrating due to the numerous thoughts circulating her head. 

As a Blood Witch, and a very good one at that, she could heal wounds with a snap of her fingers and ease the conscious by altering the path of one's blood flow. Which was why once she'd turned eighteen she'd left her home and sisters behind, deciding to go wherever her blood drew her to, knowing that she was genetically created to help those in need.

Maev had been wandering the world for over a decade now, going wherever she was drawn, and somehow she'd ended up in Bucharest and had stayed here for nearly a year, the longest she'd stayed in one place for quite some time... all due to the man living in the apartment below hers. She hadn't seen him much, just caught a glimpse of brown hair and wide shoulders, but whenever she walked past that chipped door her blood would sing.

To feel such a strong pull to one individual meant that their suffering, their wounds, were immeasurable and every cell in her body urged her to help, and so the mysterious man was constantly on her mind.

But while her blood told her to go to him, to offer him the deal she'd given many others, her instincts told her to run; because while he may seem like an ordinary man with a few sorrows, she had a feeling it was so much deeper than that. So, Maev had settled for spending her days and nights scouring the streets of Bucharest, offering help to those who could not afford it elsewhere and draining her magic to the point where she simply stumbled past his door instead of knocking on it, too hellbent on going to sleep to care about what kind of ghosts he hid in his apartment.

Letting out a long sigh, Maev picked up the drink, swirling it around in the glass a few times before tilting her head back and drinking it in one go.

She slammed this glass down too, feeling a small tinge of delight at the simplistic action, already feeling her spell work. She stood up, shrugging her black trench coat on and made her way out of the bar, intending to get home before the spell hit her full force.

The air was cool and the stars hung in the sky, thin tendrils of clouds weaving between them. Maev tucked her hands into her pockets, ignoring the strange looks cast her way due to the large sunglasses resting on her nose. She managed to get to the building she currently lived in, the outside as run down as the inside and the building leaning worrisomely to the side. But the rent was cheap, the landlord didn't ask many questions, and she wasn't worried about her safety considering that she wasn't human, so Maev stayed.

She paused after she let herself into the lobby, blinking a few times as her vision blurred. She put her sunglasses on the top of her head, rubbing her eyes. She'd really forgotten what it was like to get drunk, really drunk, and she knew she'd be regretting her decision in the morning.

Maev stumbled up the stairs, enjoying the way her thoughts dulled to a soft buzz in the back of her mind, letting her feet guide her past that door...

She stopped, staring at the chipped paint, the dull doorknob, hearing the faintest sound of music flowing inside. Perhaps if she just knocked, it would help her get whatever this was out of her system. Perhaps if she just saw his face, confirmed her suspicions that he was too dangerous to help, she could just claim she knocked on the wrong door and go on her merry way.

Slowly, Maev raised her hand, taking a deep breath to still herself. Perhaps, the reason why she was so hesitant to knock is that she knew she'd have to stay once she saw the face behind the sorrow, because she knew she'd get into something that she couldn't possibly get out of.

She gently rapped her knuckles against the door, holding her breath and waiting a few moments. After a minute of waiting she turned away, silently chastising herself for her actions. This had a been a stupid idea, and a stupid reason to get drunk simply so she could draw up the courage to knock on a stranger's door.

"Can I help you?" The low voice echoed through her body and Maev turned around, her blood singing to her.

it's him it's him it's him it's him 

A tall man looked at her, his door opened just enough for him to see her properly. He was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, a frayed pair of jeans, and gloves. His chin-length brown hair was partially tucked behind one ear and his arms were crossed over his chest.

IT'S HIM IT'S HIM IT'S HIM

Her blood was practically screeching at her now and Maev forced herself to look the man in the eyes, noticing the way they widened in shock at the sight of her own eyes.

Blue eyes, full of sorrow and pain and longing, narrowed as they started in the wholly black eyes of Maev Barebone.

James Buchanan Barnes unconsciously curled his left hand into a fist and managed to breathe out a single sentence as his body tensed up for what he viewed as a seemingly inevitable fight.

"What the hell are you?"

the AMAZING gif banner above was created by the extremely talented theGhostofHarrenhal

woot woot, first chapter! let me know what you think :)