Who: Hal Yorke What: It takes but a moment Where: Wandering through an apocalypse, there are still muggers When: Not long after Kol was a massive doouuche Rating: PG for theme Status: Complete, Narrative
He'd been right about Kol Mikaelson. And overall right about so much. Oh they'd helped the girl. Saved her life. Alex promised him in every way she knew that she believed it wasn't him. But she hadn't. For a second, even now, she hadn't believed it. He'd left the house soon after. Mitchell having his own dammed issues, ones that he probably should have cared more about. The vial of blood. The one he hadn't gotten rid of was burning a hole in his pocket. It didn't matter though, he was going to destroy it.
He was going to throw it away and move on. Because there was no way he was going to let the devil best him again. But on the other hand. Really, what could he do about it. What could Hal really do against the devil. The voice in his head, the ever present Lord Harry. The Old One.
No, God what the hell was he thinking? It was fair that Alex would have a moment of doubt. He hadn't been having a good time of it lately and he couldn't. No. No he didn't ask for help.
"Give me your wallet"
Hal blinked, eyes flashing to black and back to normal before turning slowly to face the man, no, no boy. The boy holding the knife, not yet 20. But cocky. Arrogant. And oh how he'd picked the wrong day and the wrong man. "Walk away." he began. "You really, really don't want to test me."
Hal prayed. Actually prayed that the boy would leave. Actually moving to lift his wallet from his pocket. That was all replaceable. This life, it wasn't...But of course from his pocket flew the vial. The precious blood that he'd clung to for so long. The boy looked down, confused now, the cockiness seeming to waiver. Walk away walk away walk away. thought Hal, but of course the boy did not. He lashed out. Pushed him, lifted the knife... And it took but seconds for Hal to leave him a crumpled heap on the floor. The knife now in his possession. Eyes returned to black. God, he'd tried to warn him.
The boy would live, probably not with great quality of life but he would live. Hal was fairly sure he'd done something to his spine.
He should care. He did...
The vial though. Just a little. Just that. Because he couldn't let this happen again. He couldn't let himself be that dangerous. Feed the monster. A little, Keep him from taking everything.
He reached down for the vial and before he could think of anything else drank it down.
The blood brought clarity. A clarity he'd missed. A clarity he needed.
Just a little. Now and again. He could be stronger. He could help fight. He could play a part in the apocalypse now. He wouldn't run.