Thomas Raith | The Dresden Files (thomas_raith) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2013-07-30 13:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry dresden, thomas raith |
Who: Thomas Raith and Harry Dresden
What: Meeting, trying out Harry's magic in this place, and trying to find Justine
Where: Harry's apartment
When: Early Tuesday morning (after midnight)
Rating: TBD, likely low
Status: In Progress
Thomas wasn't really expecting this to work. He didn't ~really think Justine was here. If she had been, he was sure he would have...felt her? That sounded cheesy as hell, but there weren't good words to explain his relationship with Justine. White Court vampires weren't supposed to feel what he felt towards her. It wasn't supposed to be possible, not after their demon had manifested. Sure, sure, beforehand, they could sometimes be freed from their fate, like Inari had. But once it was said and done? They were damned. And he was damned, no doubt about that. He wasn't some Twilight Vampire trying to assert his innocence from evil, or some reluctant monster that whined about his fate. He was what he was, a monster, a killer. And he didn't feel like burying himself in self-pity about it.
At least, not today.
It would be good to see Harry, though. Really good. Harry and Justine were his family, much more than Lara, his father, and his other sisters were. Harry knew him better than just about anyone else (he'd soulgazed him, after all), and he didn't have to keep secrets from him. It was nice to have someone like that. He'd always needed something like that.
He ran the scarf over his fingers (he could touch it without it burning him now too, thank god), a soft smile crossing his lips. Justine was really crap at crocheting, to be honest. Not that he'd ever tell her that. And not that it made him like the gift any less. There was something...sweet in how badly it was made, something imperfect that made it all the more special. Like Justine herself, in a sense. They were a curious pair, the two of them. The crazy girl and the monster who loved her. It was like Beauty and the Beast, if Beauty was a bit off her rocker, and with a lot more sex. And of course, if the Beast had been as pretty as he was.
He made his way down the hallway to Harry's room, finding the door easily. It was quiet, as he supposed should be expected at two in the morning, and he hesitated a moment before knocking, three times, and shoving his hands into the pockets of his skin-tight black leather pants.
"Harry?"