Who: Zelda & Jonathan What: A nocturnal picnic gets a rude interruption When: Tonight Where: Empty park Rating/Warnings: Jonathan tries to eat people, nbd Status: Complete!
Illusion tricks weren’t needed much lately - except for the pointed elven ears, of course, but Zelda didn’t seem so afraid when it came to parading around as herself anymore. Surviving heiress resurfacing after years of being presumed dead accusing a particularly powerful CEO for murder and theft (a word use very loosely), it meant her face was plastered everywhere. Television, newspapers, online articles, even the tabloid magazine at the register line of a grocery store. Zelda Hoffman’s Shocking Drug Addiction And Six Abortions!
Which she picked up, by the way, out of morbid curiosity. It was something to muse over tonight, where she and Jonathan thought it best to merely pick up a to-go order of raw fished rolled in seaweed and rice (with a couple other things - edamame, containers of miso soup, their own bottle of plum wine). Having a picnic an empty park in the dead of the night was odd, but now a second person she loved was forced to be nocturnal and it was merely a matter of adjusting. And she would, because she was determined to not let the effects of this place cut into her quality time.
Buzzing street lamps and the brightness of the moon provided decent lighting. A bit dim, but not terrible, and the Princess of Hyrule relaxed against the blanket over grass and crossed her legs. “It’s only a matter of time before some news reporter thinks we’re having an affair,” she calmly quipped, flipping through the pages. “Or I’m under scrutiny for my ‘scandalous’ relationship with a former and female Hollywood starlet.”
Perhaps it’d seem silly to anyone else, but for Jonathan, a night picnic in the park was pretty perfect. And it was also perfect of Zelda to offer to work around his rather inconvenient schedule - but he supposed that was what friends did for each other, and in return he’d gladly have Myrcella slap some under-eye treatments and blush on him to make him look less ‘night of the living dead’ when he appeared in court during the daytime, very soon, where the circus would be televised to boot.
“I think you just jinxed it,” he teased, seated on the blanket, swirling a little crisp, clean plum wine in its plastic cup (nothing crystal out here, but they could still be fancy with plastic, thank you). His palette was a bit different, of course, and now he could pick up on notes like honeydew and grass or whatever - the things he thought wine experts were making up before - but it just didn’t really do much for him. Wasn’t something he craved, wouldn’t get him tipsy no matter how many bottles he drank. But overall it wasn’t bad - he didn’t mind eating human food, if it meant time with Zelda. “Our scandalous affair will be on the next magazine cover. In addition to talk of how I fathered at least two of your babies.”
Vlad would get a kick out of it. Or look staunchly unimpressed, as he tended to do.
“But that’s fine. The press kind of keeps them off our back, like we knew it would.”
“Knock on woooooood,” the blonde softly sang, letting those crystallized eyes run through the blurbs of text. All sorts of ridiculous accusation and ‘sources,’ it was actually kind of fascinating at the amount of bullshit people could come up with. Deciding a different position would provide the best comfort, Zelda shifted all until she was belly down and in front of their plattered of sushi. Her selection was a salmon skin roll drizzled in mild eel sauce, and she popped it in her mouth like a piece of candy.
This was nice. Zee had insisted she partake in calming activities and nothing else proved calming than being in the presence of a friend, taking a minute out of the chaos of their lives to find an hour or two of relaxation and likeminded company. She and Vision had visited a little tea room for chai and scones and there was something soothing about the man’s presence. Just as soothing as Jonathan’s, despite his now permanent state of being undead.
After a second she blinked up from this fine piece of literary work. “How’s it feel on your end? You’ve been getting an interesting amount of publicity. So early in your career, too. And with your change…” Well, it was a lot. And he’d been nothing but persistent with this despite his own baggage. “Are you doing alright?”
It was spicy tuna roll and caterpillar roll (not...actual caterpillar, more like cucumber and eel) for him, hold the garlic. Jonathan had chopsticks, plastic ones, and he used them to scoop one seaweed-wrapped, generously stuffed roll up and dunk it into soy sauce before it met his mouth. “All of it feels...definitely different,” he chuckled wryly. “But I think it’s a good way to kick everything off. Really make a splash early on, and after this, you know you’ll have me on board for anything you need as well.”
Because he was confident that they’d pummel through all the legal proceedings and emerge victorious - and then came the fun part of figuring out what to do with everything, what to actually do next. Zelda would have control of the very large energy conglomerate and it’d be up to her to sort of divvy everything out and do more housekeeping - which Jonathan was also more than happy to assist with.
As for the vampire things, that was a long road. But not a lonely one, thankfully. “The community of, uh, individuals with my particular condition on the network....they’re interesting.” ‘Interesting’ in the sense that his paramour almost broke his laptop talking to one the other night; Jonathan told him to put it away and stop engaging, basically. “...Vlad gets frustrated with them though.”
“Midna knows another vampire,” she mentioned, memory flickering to the thought of the blonde who’d given her girlfriend some kind of sunlight ring. “Not that I really know her, but she seems surprisingly...peppy, for someone who drinks blood and is dead.” Caroline, was it? It’d be a bit much if all vampires were of the gothic variety drowning in angst puddles, but what did she know - it was a state of being she could never imagine for herself, but she would make any attempt necessary to understand. Jonathan was important to her, and so was Vlad, even if he preferred not to be ensnared in their silliness and cheesy moments. He had saved Midna and was officially one of hers.
Tabloid closed and set aside, she focused more on the spread before them and pulled over the ramekin of spicy mayo to dip the next roll. “Frustrated, how? Not seeing eye to eye on how to correctly vampire?” ‘Correctly vampire.’ Was that a thing?? Zelda rubbed her chin in serious thought.
“Well, basically that,” Jonathan shrugged, tackling the miso soup next. Who would have thought clear broth with little slivers of green onions could be so good. “Most of them feed off of blood bags, I think. Or have whatever a special cup is, that automatically refills with blood. He just doesn’t feel like he fits in with them - and he’s not wrong, about how dangerous it is to pretend like you’re not some...to pretend like you’re still human, only with strange dietary preferences.”
Vampires were meant to hunt, to feed, to kill. It was in their very nature and to deny the beast within, that hungry monster, was definitely a way to play with fire. Not to mention living forever was a very heavy concept that, in Jonathan’s opinion, not all of them really grasped either. They would have to watch their friends and family wither away and die - how was that easy? Or anything close to ‘fun’?
“But at least we have each other. He’s been good about being there for me. You both have.”
“I’d imagine the struggle between what you are and humanity is a...constant thing,” Zelda carefully said. Maybe it’d get easier over time. After all, Jonathan had eternity ahead of him. The concept of immortality was both fascinating and maddening - to be able to witness the future eventually become history, but then at the same time, to have it never end? Was it a blessing or was it a curse?
Philosophy over sushi was interesting.
An arm stretched over and she jabbed him with a chopstick. “It is good you’re not alone in this. And you balance each other out perfectly. Whatever’s to come, you’ve got company. His for a lifetime, and mine for as long as I’m here.” Naturally, Zelda wouldn’t always be there. Being mortal meant she’d live a mortal life, but there seemed to be some kind of interesting trend with the Triforce going on - a line of reincarnations. Perhaps with the way this place worked, maybe another Zelda who looked just like her and wielded the same power would be a friend of his in another century. It was actually something of a comforting thought.
In the distance they heard the sound of cars, mufflers vrooming, rubber tire against cement. Not anything out of the ordinary, really - some cars passed by already several times - so when she thought the sound would pass like every other vehicle, her sensitive ears twitched realizing that they stopped.
Here, specifically. Off street parking not too far from them. Pitch-black boxes on waxed wheels and expensive rims with equally pitch-black tinted windows and silenced engines. That simply sat there, unmoving. Even with the heartbeats residing in it.
Immediately, Jonathan’s hackles went up. He preferred not to live his life caught in an influx of paranoia, but these days - what with the trial looming around the corner - everyone was a little on edge. He noticed that the cars stopped, where they stopped, and couldn’t fathom any other reason that this would occur other than it was related to the sense of foreboding that stirred within him.
It wasn’t the only thing that stirred. The predator did as well, the beast lurking down to the marrow of his bones, something in that tar pit bubbling with interest.
Hunger pangs struck him harshly - he could sense those heartbeats, they even seeped into his skin from here, and the tip of his tongue glided across his teeth. Feed, blood, kill, mine, a cacophony of instincts flaring up in addition to the need to satisfy that hunger. But what he said was, “We should go. Away from that.”
He was up then, holding out his hand.
And there goes their night, interrupted by what screamed suspicious. Jonathan’s instincts were spot on and Zelda couldn’t agree more - because whoever were the people cased in obsidian steel were likely not here for nice reasons, not at all. It meant taking his hand and rising to her feet (thankfully she wore practical shoes, like a worn pair of converse sneakers with sharpie drawn smiley faces and hearts), and it was also likely in their best interest to abandon everything they brought.
Car doors slammed open and all she could see were blurs of silhouettes dressed in dark clothing, armed with what looked like weapons. Weapons as in guns. Guns they propped on their shoulders and aimed with, equipped with scopes and that little red laser that pointed dots at both her and Jonathan’s heads.
“Don’t move,” one of them instructed, a voice so gravelly it sounded like a growl.
And ever the reasonable pacifist, Zelda’s arms calmly raised a bit. “We won’t, but don’t you think this is all excessive? Considering we’re unarmed?” If they wanted to even try to kill them, there would have been a rain of bullets.
Or so she hoped, anyway.
Oh, now this was just...
Jonathan exhaled frustratingly through his nostrils but other than that, complied with the not-so-polite request. Demand, whichever. He could block Zelda - bullets wouldn’t do much damage to him, he didn’t think, but he still wasn’t eager to really test the theory. In his head, he was calculating how long it would take to rip every throat out, of each person, because in the dark he could see exactly how many there were - with eyes that had turned a bestial red (likely unnoticeable without light, vision less sharp on their end) the danger and warning flickering in the irises.
It would only take a couple of seconds. But a bloodbath wasn’t really what he was going for, even if in a park at night it’d be simple enough to dispose of -
“What is it that you want, exactly?” he asked, taking the negotiation route for now. And yet he was listening, and if one trigger-happy finger even moved a fraction, he was going to spring.
They might have not noticed the change of his eyes, but Zelda did. And maybe Jonathan himself could sense the increased beating of her heart because she knew what that crimson meant; it was one of the things that stood out in her vision of transition. Still, her face remained unchanged - stoic, even - and let her gaze settle on the man who spoke.
“We just want to have a little chat,” he began, rifle lowered, but the rest of the throng held them steady and ready. He was closer now, ahead of the herd, only a couple steps away from being face to face with the two. “A private one, preferably. We can take you two civilly or we can do this the hard way - we’ll let you decide.”
Now, she could end this peacefully. Theoretically speaking. Calling upon Farore, Goddess of Courage, would allow a warping spell to engulf them and transport them away from immediate fire range. It’d minimize the bloodshed and it was a much safer get away than to actually face these firearm equipped goonies. Jonathan’s skillset had been expanded by his vampirism, Zelda had her magic, they weren’t as entirely helpless as they once were when they crossed paths with danger - but bullets were still bullets and they not only hurt, but killed.
Her fingers twitched, bracing herself. “We’re not interested in a negotiation, sir. We can properly communicate through the right channels, legally, but this is a reckless move. For all of you.”
“It’s about Zant, you little princess,” he spat; the title meant to infer she was a spoiled heiress, how nice. Fitting, though. Very fitting.
Jonathan squared his shoulders, fists clenched at his side. The dormant monster within wasn’t so docile right now, perking up at the promise of blood spilled and being satisfied. It didn’t care how many there were or who they are - hunger was a throbbing sensation in the human vessel’s ribs, a demand, clawing. Feed, kill, take, dominate, everything echoed in Jonathan’s ears - and oh, it didn’t enjoy being threatened. Not in the slightest. Especially not by a human, but their combined anger meant that Jonathan had to try very hard not to lash out because as soon as he reached for the man’s throat, it would be all over.
“We don’t know anything about Zant.”
He was close enough, the one who had lowered his rifle. Jonathan could see him perfectly, and that’s when the invisible tendrils reached out like claws and latched onto the man’s mind. A slow glide of invisible smoke, something sweet and compelling gliding through him on the rails of vampiric hypnotism. Yes, that’s exactly what it was.
We don’t know anything about Zant, from mind to mind, repeated for emphasis - and an extra nudge, a push that exerted control. “So turn around and leave, and take your friends with you.”
Turn around and leave, and take your friends with you.
Was this - ? Was this that mindtrick, she had heard about? Of course she had never seen it in person, and there was nothing but silence from Zelda as Jonathan worked that supernatural hypnosis he had inherited. It all seemed to have worked, too, because the gunman’s eyes were hazy and that contentious look became blank. Void of emotion, but understanding in the command.
Unfortunately this method if easing the flames didn’t extend to all of them. One took notice of something odd. Not like he knew what it was, but something about this entire thing was suspiciously off and the finger over the black trigger pressed down merely a smidge, eyes tightening warily. “Hey, who the fuck do--”
And there it was, the additional sound of motors. Bikes, several of them, driving up with men patched into some local MC onboard. It was a sea of motorcycle headlights and burly men of all sizes, and Zelda caught a glimpse of the leader, a person she could never forget (considering they had met while she attempted to win Jonathan’s pants back, and he called her everything under the sun related to something sweet).
It was Roadkill.
What is even happening right now?
Priorities switched, the men in black (not here to cover up alien conspiracies, unfortunately) swiftly pointed their guns over to the newcomers, and from the looks of it, the heroic Bandidos weren’t exactly helpless in the weaponry department, either.
“Oh god,” Zelda squeaked, blinking wide.
If Zelda didn’t know what was happening, well, color Jonathan was equally confused. His mind trick was meant to buy them some time, but he hadn’t anticipated Roadkill and the Bandidos showing up, almost as if they’d been watching and waiting for something to go wrong - a whole bunch of tough-looking, leather-clad bodyguards for the heiress and her attorney.
How quaint.
Then that’s when the pandemonium broke loose. A gunfight in a park at night, daggers flying, curse words slung left and right, the sick sounds of impact as bullets and blades collided against things that went squish. And from what it sounded like, the score was Bandidos: 10, Other Guys: 0.
However, for as chaotic as it was, there was also room for escape. “Let’s go,” Jonathan insisted, reaching for Zelda’s hand so they could slip away. Only there was one distinct problem...
With all that fighting, it meant that the scent of blood was in the air. Jonathan was quick, holding onto Zelda as they zig-zagged past the ruckus, and yet one man - the same man who had indignantly almost shot them before - lay in the grass with a knife in his back. He wasn’t dead yet but -
Feed
Jonathan grabbed him by the hair, garnet eyes glowing madly with hunger, and snapped the victim’s head back - that’s when the aggressive polish of fangs were bared. Before they sunk greedily into the man’s throat.
Those gunshots sounded more like fireworks, loud and explosive and ringing against those sensitive elven ear drums. It actually almost hurt, but it was important to keep mind over body because literally, she and Jonathan were in the middle fiery havoc and blatant discord. Did the Bandidos actually try and come to their rescue? Them being here otherwise didn’t make any lick of sense, and she supposed they had a cordial relationship with--
“Jonathan, what--” Well, yes, best to get away from the mayhem before a bullet ricocheted into one of them but the actual stopping through the disarray? It was abrupt, something else in the corner of her eye almost ripped her attention elsewhere - but then the usually collected esquire decided it was a good moment to cease all attempts at escape. So he could properly sink his teeth into a human snack. A fallen gunman, the one lulled into obedience, close to death.
And then tossed at the Grim Reaper’s doorstep thanks to Jonathan’s bloodlust.
Panic overwhelmed the sense for about .5 seconds before any reasonable caution on how to approach a vampire flew out the window, and her hands clasped onto his shoulders in every attempt to pry him away from his victim. “Jonathan! No! Stop it! You can’t--we have to go!”
Just let him go, I can get us out of here--
Granted, Zelda’s attempt at prying Jonathan away was essentially the equivalent of a paperclip making a valiant effort to take down a fighter jet, because he was distracted - he was sinking, awareness vaguely buried under the ecstasy that was a result of drinking from the fountain of life. He had to try very hard not to worry at the throat like a dog with a bone because the taste was not what he was expecting, it was better - like the man had downed a few Johnnie Walker shots beforehand, his blood tainted with it, something smooth and smoky.
The beast within encouraged him to finish, to take everything but Zelda’s voice registered. Jonathan pulled back, dropping the body, teeth and lips bloodstained - the picture of a gothic nightmare - with a near drug-addled look in his eyes until the green became to come back to him, and so did awareness.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, and right, yes, leave. They had to leave. Now. “I’m so sorry...let’s...let’s hurry.” Once they were out of here, he could be properly ashamed.
All she needed for him was to drop the body, because in a flick of her wrist came winds - fast, heavy winds that circled them, kicking up loose leaves in some kind of foliage whirlwind encasing only them. A flash of brilliant emerald light - unfortunately the spell wasn’t very inconspicuous - and a squeeze to Jonathan’s shoulders, they were gone from the park in a blink of magic.
Only to relocate not too far from the scenes of chaos and bodies, but enough distance was put between the princess, the vampire, and the sea of red that triggered that inner beastly hunger. The greenery that traveled with them settled to their feet, and Zelda had refused to let him go.
“Hey,” she whispered, knocking their foreheads together to ground him. It’d been the first time she had actually seen him in action. A predator attack like that wasn’t easy to stomach, not when it was her best friend sucking away someone’s life - even if the gunman had deserved it - but Zelda wasn’t going to let it get to her. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Take a deep breath, Jonathan.”
The breath, technically, was unnecessary - but it was something that calmed him, a gulp of air. He held Zelda’s arms, hands gliding down once before he stepped back - but only to reach into his pocket and pull out a trusty handkerchief that he’d probably have to burn, wiping his mouth, tongue swiping across his teeth to get at the last of the blood. The last thing Jonathan wanted was for Zelda to keep seeing him at his most monstrous - actually, the last thing he’d wanted was her to witness it in the first place, but that had just happened and there was nothing he could do about it.
“You’re fine too,” he said, though it was phrased as a question. Quickly looking her over, he didn’t notice any injuries so that was good. “I’m...I don’t always have the control, I try but...” He’d mess up. He did mess up - however, he was a young vampire, and it was going to happen. “I know it looks bad but I wouldn’t ever hurt you - “
Just in case she was worried about being around him. He supposed he couldn’t blame her if she was.
No injuries on him either; praise their horrendously good luck, considering the storm of bullets they’d been caught in. There was a knot in her throat she forcefully swallowed, because she knew he struggled - struggled with something so infuriatingly irreversible that he was stuck like this for the remainder of his existence. An eternity.
“I trust you,” Zelda told him. It was a statement that didn’t waiver; she had said it with confidence. “You’re still you, J. Maybe with some differences, but --” Another squeeze, this time to his arms for reassurance. “I’m going to accept them. Because if I was ever weak enough to leave you when you need people the most, then I’d make a pretty shitty friend overall, wouldn’t I?” Ah, curse words. They felt so odd rolling off her tongue, but sometimes crude words were necessary for emphasis.
He didn’t ask for this. None of them did. They were dealt with a random set of cards and the only thing they could do was endure - together.
“I wouldn’t call it shitty,” Jonathan half-smirked, but that was just because he wasn’t really used to hearing such unclean language from Zelda. “I’d call it...a strong self of self-preservation. I don’t know. But thank you...for not leaving me.”
He was more grateful than he could say - to her, and to his other friends who had stuck by him as well. The human spirit was such an enviable thing sometimes.
Carefully, he then slid in closer to hug her - she was warm and soft, and he was hard edges and ice, but it was a gesture from a heart that had kept a love for her very much alive, despite being undead these days. “Alright, let’s go home?” His, hers. It didn’t matter. The night had been long enough.
Well, she was sure she could maintain a strong sense of self-preservation just fine while maintaining their friendship - it was one of the things she counted on, and Jonathan was one of her biggest rocks to lean on. And she hoped it was the same for him, too. No, she’d never leave him while he was constantly in battle with a beast that was never welcomed inside him. Zelda would remain until her very last breath.
His hug had even changed. There wasn’t any physical warmth behind it, no human squishy softness, but it’d never stop her from hugging him just as tight like he was still human. Even if he’d barely feel a thing behind the mortal strength of her arms. “Home is good,” she agreed with a morose smile, embracing him tighter and a little longer before finally releasing him. “I’ve been practicing Farore’s Wind - that spell. It’s some sort of warping spell summoned from the Goddess of Courage, and I don’t know the range, but...I guess we’re about to find out.”
Another twist of her wrist, another whirl of summoned winds. Another glare of scintillating green light that took them elsewhere. Farther, much farther, from the chaos behind them.