Ignore That Random Lady's Hand Mmkay. - Blog Posts

there's a certain sort of air to kieran fucking talbot. and something about it has garnered damon's interest. enough to latch onto him halloween night— get him out of that little air pocket of his. it has their mind straying, wondering if kieran had some actual fucking fun with it or if they regretted it come morning. was he the type to have a hangover? did he remember the rest of it after damon scampered off? its his own personal questions posed internally. questions he might've asked with kieran's sudden appearance before the conversation forks. a character listing, something about due diligence and an alibi— and then a car's tires skid. not on the road beside them but in damon's head ; an echoing 'skrrrchhh!' at the question proposed:

'did you kill alaina price?'

bold. sudden. but maybe that's exactly what kieran was. bolder than damon could ever give them credit for. damon's blinking rapidly, three times to be exact as a mass wave of emotions wrack through their chest. confusion, why the fuck is he asking me that? discomfort, is that the type of person he thinks i am? intrigue, does he ask everybody that? it swirls and swirls until a fourth option is decided on. its amusement, almost, but likes the merry warmth that normally comes with it. gotta keep up that facade of his. otherwise kieran might really think he's suspicious. answers first with a sharp laugh and then a near whisper, " gonna ask what i killed her with next? " a humoring of the question, tone low and almost a little too serious. they're adjusting the way they lean against the wall. forearm pressed to the bricks and angled slightly more towards kieran's lean. " don't want to be used as an alibi, but i think you're already my alibi from halloween night. you the type of drunk that doesn't remember a wink, kier? " poses a question back to kieran, too fucking curious to see the rebuttal. this is denial in damon's way. taking the all-too-fucking-serious inquiry and turning it almost to a mockery. its not that they don't feel for the poor woman, but the personally known fact they didn't fucking do it. something burns in the center of their chest. a match freshly lit, sulfur tickling his nose. " humor me one more time here. i wanna know how that mind of yours works. " the hand not suspended with their lean gestures towards kieran ; a two fingered lazy point. " 'cause its real ... bold to ask someone if they're a murderer. unless you just like flirting with danger. "

his head tilts to the side, " the fuck makes you think that? seriously, i gotta know the criteria. "

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ there was a quiet kind of sickness to trailing someone like damon del valle⸻ a moral vertigo that came from the careful balance of what he was hoping to find versus what he was afraid to be true. and kieran had always been acquainted with people like them ﹕ the restless, unmoored types that lived in the liminal spaces between good intentions and bad decisions. he didn't want to suspect damon, not really. in fact, he had always admired their ability to be the sparkplug of any gathering. he could never be the same kind as damon, only the kind to fall for it ﹕ just like he did on halloween night, when he let damon flush a couple of hours of clarity and cognizance down the drain, in favor of alcohol and released inhibitions. but the more he looked at him, the more he spent time in their light, the more kieran realized that there was always something missing. a lack of true knowledge over who damon really was at their core. it was like watching smoke rise from a cigarette, wondering if it was the start of a fire or just the smolder of something already spent. and it didn't help that damon insisted on hanging out in places like this ﹕ dingy back alleys with dubious company, the smell of stale beer, weed and the distant exhaust curling up between buildings. it painted them in a light that was difficult to ignore⸻ placing kieran in a peculiar purgatory between suspicion and the gut feeling damon was not the one. not that it would change anything. truth didn't care about his gut. but still, kieran wanted to clear their name, or more specifically, trying to clear them off a growing list of people who could've killed alaina price that night. he thought about all his other suspects, compared them to damon, but the loud scrape of a boot against fractured pavement snapped him out of his mind, avoiding their gaze for a moment and watched the cars on the road, as if he hadn't been waiting here for this exact moment. “ i think i'm more clarice starling. fox mulder. dale cooper. ” kieran responded flatly, though not unkind. he leaned back, weight settling against the brick wall, gaze shifting toward damon's hands instead⸻ almost amused by the gestures, but mostly curious of what those hands were truly capable of. “ listen— damon. i'm not here to waste your time. just doing my due diligence, really. ' cause i'd really hate to be used as some kind of alibi, ” a pause, not a long one, but enough to let the weight of the moment stretch thin. then, he finally looked into their eyes and asked the question, landing with no ceremony or inflection, just a nonchalant query that even piqued the attention of some people passing by ﹕ “ did you kill alaina price ? ”