ethangranger: (Default)
March Character Development Exercise for [livejournal.com profile] tenebrae_nostro 
Video log # 03/2003 [Destroyed in lab explosion]
New Mexico
June, 2003

"Hey honey, lookin' for some fun?"
It was her. The one that I've had my eye on for a while. Funny that she had found me.
"Been lookin' for you a long time." I mumbled because I know she can hear me.The end of my unfinished smoke gets crushed into the ashtray, its gimpy neck smushing into itself as the white lining tears and tobacco spews forward. Pretty sure some of you talented types would get a great metaphor outta that. Like I give a shit. Getting up, I grab my jacket off the back of the wooden stool as I give her a warm smile. I learned a long time ago not to give away the loathing in my eyes. The hate. It isn't always easy, but if you smile and soften the other features around your face they think that its just dangerous enough to give them a thrill. Something that makes them wet enough to want to fuck you, but not trust you. Don't understand it myself, but I'm not gonna start asking questions now. As we move through the bar toward the exit, I put my hand on the back of her neck and give it a soft squeeze. She smiles cause it feels warm against her cold skin. Yeah, it makes me smile too, darlin'. Fuck, it even makes my heart sing. Her blond hair has lost that sheen to it that I remember it having some months ago. Maybe it was a reflection of how lifeless she felt on the inside. I like long hair, it gives me something to pull in the heat of the moment. And I sure as hell like to pack a lot of heat.

What can I say? I'm a realist.  )
ethangranger: (Default)
I am everything my shadow self wants me to be, funneled through a prism of black glass.
ethangranger: (Can't see me)
June Character Building Exercise )

A wooden multi-colored totem pole stuck out of the soft ground where the earth had been recently disturbed and climbed to the sky as if it wanted to reach heaven itself. Much like the souls that had departed from rotted torn flesh that had been buried in a burial vault below. It was done. The werewolves, skin walkers, that had done this were...disassembled, piece by piece, limb by limb. The leader of the pack, Anius, the one who had given the order to attack the reservation, faced an especially lengthly death. It even made Raze cringe. Now for a murderer, that was impressive.

A piece of his boys leather hanging rope was fashioned into a necklace of sorts, with the beast's fang as its center piece. Granger wrapped it around his wrist twice instead.


That was a long time ago. The colors on the totem pole had faded in the hot Arizona sun as it leaned slightly to one side. The muted yellows and reds were sanded by the sandstorms that sometimes made their way through the arid area. It was like they were trying to erase history. It was true though, the desert had a very short memory. The wooden hawk perched at the top with its splayed wings, looked down at the mortals left behind in warning that the afterlife would come sooner to those that desecrate this tomb. Taking his brown and gold handled butterfly knife, he slide it against his palm and watched the canal produce a river of blood that welled up in the groove before it overran the fleshy embankment and dripped through the bottom of his tightly clenched fist like a well. Could say that the motion was the same as pissing on a grave. He was marking it and, also, commemorating it again. Assholes better think twice before passing up on this warning and heading up to the reservation that lay at the end of the sun-baked road. His blood hit the thirsty ground that had cracked in its dryness.

The eagle that circled him high above the bright blue sky squawked loudly in approval. "Oh, shut up." He barked back as if it had offended him. Fucking bird followed him around like a dog. Brown powerful wings batted the wind and it squawked loudly again as if to return the sentiment. Getting up, he smirked at it. Loud mouthed bastard. "Granger? Fuck you doin' man, let's go."  Well, well, finally caught up, did they? Now that he was done, he was not bothered by their presence. Looking behind his shoulder at Raze and Racks, Frick and Fro', whatever, he threw them a dry smile. "Comin." He answered in a grainy voice as if he had swallowed sand that he dribbled through his fingers when he first got there. Granger turned his back to the monument, like he turned his back on his people. Or so he felt. Still, every so often, he'd look back. Just like he looked back over his shoulder to say goodbye to the ghosts that no longer lingered on this earth, but only in his mind.
ethangranger: (Default)
What are ten rules that your muse lives by?

1. Don't ask where your contacts live if there is a chance that your work might follow them home. [Or when your own experimentation on yourself goes to hell and you happen to know where to target them.*Cough*]
2. Don't make friends, they're only gonna get you killed and visa versa.
3. Own a fast car and a comfortable bike.
4. Respect your elders unless they're assholes. Respect your heritage even if it has some lame beliefs
5. Have the courage of your convictions.
6. Have the courage to stick to your convictions if you're right.
7. Live every day like it is your last, 'cause if you're in my line of work, it most likely is.
8. Never run out of cigarettes, bullets, whiskey and sharp scalpels.
9. Never stay in one place too long.
10. If you end up giving a shit about someone, you better be prepared to lie to them.

Bonus round

11. Just because vamps fucked up my life, does let give me the right to drag another mortal into my world. Ignorance is their bliss. Leave 'em be.
12. Make sure that people know that you talk the talk and walk the walk, otherwise they'll be surprised when you shoot them.
13. Only surround yourself with vampires if they fit into a test tube.
14. Just get it done....no jokes, no quips, no fancy bullshit. Just get it done.
15. The only good skinwalker is a dead skinwalker.
16. Take time to enjoy the speck of insignificance that is your life. Alone.
17. What does not kill you does not necessary make you stronger, especially if it happens to break your neck.
18. You trying to swim upstream is a waste of my time. Don't waste my time.
19.  In the end, life will throw you through such a curve that none of these rules will matter.
ethangranger: (Flawed but cleaning up)
My writer, in her migraine induced delirium, decided to take this quiz on my behalf. *Leans back on the hood of his car* She's not all there, what can I say? Poor girl. And we had such high hopes.
ethangranger: (biker glory)
There's a place not far from here where people go when their dreams have died. It's right on the outskirts of town, isolated from the city quite like its patrons, who manifest their desire to be left alone by coming to this supposed 'neutral territory'. A line of Harley Davidson hawgs stand at attention as if waiting for inspection outside the creaky wooden door, which lets light stream through the splintered old boards. Here's a friendly warning, you can look, but don't touch unless you really want your ass handed to you by any one of the Hell's Angels inside watering their throats with a little Jack Daniel's Old No. 7. Best not to order a Jack with coke here either. Let's call it a friendly warning. The weathered stools inside have the rump indents of its patrons throughout the years, who care about the decor of the place as much as they might civil etiquette. Management won't change the stools. They are part of history, he says while blowing a ring of cigar smoke out in your face. A long celebrated history of nothing and insignificance. His long salt and pepper hair reaches down to the small of his back in a stringy ponytail, which hasn't seen a pair of clipping shears since he first heard the lyrics to Highway to Hell.

Ethan Granger sits at the bar and cares nothing about any of it. Dressed in sandblasted dark blue jeans, motorcycle boots and a dark leather jacket that covers the two guns at his waist side and another two in side holsters, he looks like he fits right in and yet, he sticks out. There are no MC patches on his jacket, no colors, no small nod of acknowledgment to the others as they look at him warily when they order their drinks from the bar. The man is his own island. His lips draw tightly over his face after the tumbler of amber liquid burns its way down his throat, coating it like cough syrup. Tastes like a mixture of Whiskey, axle grease and gasoline.

"Nice. Think I could run my car off this?" They were nearly the only words he spoke all evening.

The bartender smirks and fills up his glass again. Now, that'll burn off the skin of any vampire. For sure. Might have to consider weaponizing the brew. Of course none of those words left his mouth, just a appreciative counter-smirk and light gruff chuckle. It was one of the only places in LA that he could find that didn't hand you a mixed drink with an entire fucking tropical rain forest on it, complete with a little paper umbrella that he wanted to jab the bartenders eye out with.

Life was good. Maybe not yesterday and perhaps not tomorrow, hell, maybe not a minute from now. But right now, this minute, life was good. Can't be picky. Gotta take what you can.
ethangranger: (Flawed but cleaning up)
This was supposed to be the May Character Development Exercise for Tenebrae Nostro. It turned into a whoooole 'nother thing. And yes, after consideration this is part of his background. Why not.



OC/ Skilnwalkers crossover
Arizona, 1999
Blue Mountain Apache Reservation
Words: 2,606

"My grandmothers people, worn leathery skinned Shamans or medicine men, believed that there are three causes of illness that manifest in the body or mind. Some illnesses or trauma's were so bad that they would cause "soul-loss". In order to get it back, they would preform the Kieje Hatal, or Night Chant, a part of which required the shaman to travel to the spirit lands to retrieve and reunite the soul with the body."

His hands cupped her face and the pad of his thumb brushed over her trembling lips. The flush in her face made her cheeks pink like a ripened peach, as his breath lightly brushed against her lips that looked like they were wearing red liquid vinyl. "It's complete bullshit. But I like to think of myself as something of a modern medicine man." His chest rose from under the mid-length black leather jacket as he drew the scent of her into his lungs. "I can reunite your soul with your body. It's just up to you how I go about that." Little half-moons hid brown eyes that fluttered closed as if possessed by the euphoria that the promise of her failure would bring. He didn't want her to live. Not after what she had done.
ethangranger: (Dangerous Mind)
X-posted to Tenebrae Nostro
Ethan Granger, here. I’d say it was nice to meet you but then I’d be lying. Nice to meet you anyway.

I had a choice. I could be afraid for the rest of my short life or I could make them afraid of me. I came to one realisation in my discourse: I was much more terrifying than they are. Oh yes, they are stronger, virulent and completely devoid and ungoverned by any set of rules which makes them inconsolably dangerous, but while they could not help their diseased natures and therefore acted predictably, I could make the choice of how cruel and merciless I wanted to be despite my very human nature. It makes one wonder who is the worse animal, doesn’t it? The one who can’t help themselves or the one who can but does otherwise. Does it matter if it is for the greater good? I’d like to think so. But I'm not sure that it matters anymore.

The sun burns at the end of my coffin nail and when I flick it over the red clay cliff, I watch it flutter to the ground and a send a spray little orange sparks into the air before the light goes out. That's what life feels like nowadays. A glimmer of hope that goes out because there those who don't have the balls to do what's right, even when it's wrong. There are some hunters and, obviously, vampires who don't get that vampires or Skinwalkers are not a race, but a manifestation of a disease which needs to be cured or culled. It matters very little if some of them are 'nice' or 'swell'. The bottom line is that you lock them up in a room long enough and they will have to feed because intrinsically the virus is well....virulent. Its nature is to reproduce itself and it impacts the body in such a way that if you strip away the human face of the vampire there is still a very dangerous infectious disease present.

I see a world without vampires, where humans don't have to worry about the shadows stalking them in the night unless those shadows are human. I see a world where life and death touches everyone and time leaves its mark on the laugh lines around your mouth.

And yes, I am willing to sacrifice you for it if your death will save lives.

I told you once that you won't like me. Did you think that I was lying?

Fan vids

Apr. 26th, 2008 11:31 pm
ethangranger: (Jekyll & Hyde)


If I could just edit out the werewolf bits, I'd have the perfect muse fan-vid. *wink* Whoever created this one though, nice show.
ethangranger: (Jekyll & Hyde)
Watched Skinwalkers last night. Now as far as werewolf movies go, it wasn't as bad as I expected. It wasn't good, mind you but well, it always could have been worse...er, but not by much. The script (I think there were about fifty lines in the entire movie, period. If even.) was really cliched and bad. Some of the acting made me laugh in that way where you sorta groan at the same time and the directing was the worst part of it all. Sometimes I felt that the movie would have been better just with some major editing revisions. However, the movie did have that sort of 80's horror movie feel to it in the style of After Dark. Having based my original character on Caleb/Varek, I must say that I was spot on without having seen the movie. That's how cliched it was. No really. Right down to the Native American bit. Actually, I much prefer my cross-over OC. Jason Behr, I admit, is fun to watch in this incarnation for us who remember him as Max Evans in Roswell. My, my, the boy has grown up and if given half a decent role would prove that he could be a formidable actor (much better than his blond counterpart on Roswell 'Isabel Evans' who in her new role on GA can't act passed Emo). Rhona Mitra too, I feel, is not given her credit as an actress. She had her flaws here but all in all she probably plays the most convincingly in this movie.

I suppose Skinwalkers feels as if you are watching a movie that has been shot by a group of high school media studies students. It was a good idea (cause the Skinwalkers legend is an interesting one though misrepresented in this particular film) but poorly executed, written and by some, poorly acted. Wish I saw the European version. Apparently the gratuitous sex scene there was not edited to all hell. Still, there was something comically addictive to the movie and I enjoyed it if only because it reminded me of all the other bad but easy to watch brain cell killing  monster movies that I enjoyed back in the day.
ethangranger: (the prey weeps)
"I am not one to care. Not about vampires nor their human familiars. I don't care about you either, you see. You are a tool. A stepping stone to finding a vaccine. It's in your blood. So your blood is all I care about." Her face was pressed roughly between his thumb, index and middle finger as he pinned her against the wall. Her pouty lips were pressed out in a tight rosebud as her eyes, round and angry, glared at him venomously. The warm breath of his words licked her lips as he whispered closely to her luxurious mouth, taking the time to pretend to be drawn to it and not understanding why he wasn't. Despite the fact that she had released his brother from being a vampire, a part of him held her responsible for not saving him. Who the hell knows? This one is not about to tell.  "Some find comfort in my honesty." A slow toothy grin spread across his face. He was pretty sure that she had the desire to smash it in. Hell, if she gave him what he needed, he would give her the chance.

"Should have run when you had the chance. I told you to run. Didn't you believe me when I said that you could have a normal life again? You should have run."

Twisting her head to the side, she struggled out of his grasp and spat into his face. "I did not realise that I had to run from you. Are you deranged? Let me go." She hissed as he caught her lips between his own and bit down. The salty and coppery stain of her blood flowed onto his lip and he swallowed it like it was nectar from the gods.  "God!" She yelled in a whimper as she pushed him away and blotted her lip with her hand. "Arsehole!"  The slap stung the side of his cheek and caused his head to violently snap to the side. Now there was blood staining his own lips as he accidentally bit down on the inner bottom one. His dark eyes found her first and his head slowly turned to face her.

ethangranger: (Jekyll & Hyde)
I play and write fan-fiction for the following characters on Tenebrae Nostro (from oldest to newest)

1. Amelia (Underworld)
2. Ethan Granger (Original Character)
3. Nellie Lovett (Sweeney Todd)
4. Catherine De Volanges (Original Character)


Characters in storage so-to-speak (currently non-active)

1.
Cypher Reagan (The Matrix)
2. Lothoro (Underworld: Original Character)
3. Tia Dalma (POTC)
4. Mick St. John (Moonlight)
5. Matayas (Underworld: Original Character) This journal and character RP was shared with another writer.
6. Nikita (La Femme Nikita)
7. Miranda Vaslou (CSI: Original Character)
8. Trinity (The Matrix)
*Primary Characters
ethangranger: (Jekyll & Hyde)
  1. In Memory of Lost Time: (fanfiction) Tenebrae Nostro
  2. Between Nowhere and Limbo: (Tag: Gillian) Tenebrae Nostro
  3. Soul-Loss each time the Pendulum Swings: Fanfiction x-posted to Tenebrae Nostro
  4. What Did I Get Myself Into? (Tag: Ethan): Tenebrae Nostro
  5. On Vampires: Fanfiction x-posted to TN
  6. Starting Over (Tag Dee, Ethan): Tenebrae Nostro
  7. Body of Evidence (Tag: King/Open after main action) : Tenebrae Nostro
  8. Tip the Scales (Tag Ethan, OPEN) : Tenebrae Nostro  
  9. Mad Scientist (Open, Tag: King and/or Whistler(s) :  Tenebrae Nostro
  10. Suicide Commando: Tenebrae Nostro
  11. Getting out of Reverse: Fan-fiction, Tenebrae Nostro
  12. Out of sight, out of mind: Fan-fiction, Tenebrae Nostro w/Miranda Vaslou
  13. Mobilizing The Troops: Tenebrae Nostro w/Abigail Whistler
  14. Curing the Problem (Tag: Sylar, Ethan Granger, Selene) Tenebrae Nostro
  15. A Quiet Night Out (tag Viv, Ethan Granger, Amelia, Anyone)  Tenebrae Nostro
  16. Whistle while you work...(open)  Tenebrae Nostro
  17. Time to Tie One On - Open to all  Tenebrae Nostro
  18. Navezgane: Lines of Fate  Tenebrae Nostro, fanfiction
  19. It's A Long Road Back (Tag - The Usual Suspects) 
  20. Real Estate (Open, Tag: Abby?) 
  21. Chapters written in Sand: Fanfiction, Tenebrae Nostro
  22. Home Sweet Home :  Fanfiction, Tenebrae Nostro
  23. Introduced in Blood Lines and Lessons in Vampirism
ethangranger: (Jekyll & Hyde)
Occurs in the past

The eagle circled high in the cloudless sky above him, squawking at him as if he was trying to catch his attention. Something his Kunsi, grandmother, said to him over ten years ago bounced around his mind.

"The eagle, my little navezgane, reminds us of courage and spirit. Eagle flies fearlessly, bridging heaven and earth, and courageously face our fear of the unknown in order to fly as high as our heart's joy can take us. The eagle protects you. Never let  dilthith lupan or dithith gode steal you into the night. Always fly with eagle."  Ethan looked down at his grandmother in her sick bed. Her skin was tan and leathery although the circles under her eyes were gray with illness. Yet, her dark brown earth colored eyes were bright like a coyotes and shone like Onyx laying in the sun. The diyi shook his rattle and burned sweet sage around her in circles as he mumbled some prayers to Ga'an, an supernatural spirit that could cure illness. His face was painted in red and yellow, white and brown in a pattern that resembled the compass points of each corners of the earth, like a human map that had no real direction. 

 
ethangranger: (Default)
Miranda had been so adamant about coming back to Los Angeles. Something about being worried about Hannibal King. Hannibal fucking King. Hadn't seen the man in years and I hoped to keep it that way. Miranda didn't know that I knew him. Miranda did not know many things about me. None of them did and I was comfortable with that. But now it appeared that he was a vampire. Needed help. Sure, why not? I'm not busy this week.

Stepping out of the plane, I realized that I hadn't been back here in fifteen years. Sure, a visit or two, my brother's funeral after the vampires killed him, but not...back. Looking sideways at Miranda she looked tired and pale. Put her through some crap in the last three weeks. Turned her into a vampire and then turned her back. Did the same to myself. Misery loves company. Kidding. But you can read between the lines, can't you? It means we have a working cure. Sure, nothing is a hundred percent but that's why I'm here. To start a small laboratory where we can perfect the cure and the vaccine depending on the DNA of the infected hosts. And if all else fails there's always the traditional cure for vampirism composed of a silver bullet to the brain. Would prefer them alive though. It'd be a pity to waste a perfectly good medical subject.

"So what happens now?" She asked through a heavy sigh. Dark puffy circles cushioned the bottom of her eyes.
"Now? Now you go home. Get some rest. Go to work and forget about the last month for awhile."
"But what about Ki-"
"Listen darlin', I can't do anything without the lab set up. After the lab is set up then the equipment will arrive and we will be in business."
I started to move forward but she grabbed my arm with more strength than I thought she had right now.
"Do you think...it will work? That we will succeed? I have no idea what to do next. When I spoke to him...it was like...he had given up."
Christ. She needed hope, but she was a scientist. If she just believed in the science then she would understand that all it took was time. Then again, perhaps King did not have time. There's an irony I could appreciate. With a small sigh I turned to look at her and place my hands on her shoulders.
"When you are in doubt, be still, and wait; when doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage. So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still until the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists, as it surely will. Then act with courage."
She lifted an eyebrow and looked at me oddly. Yeah. That crap never worked for me either. I agree.
"I'm guessing that wasn't Shakespeare."
"Ponca."
"What?"
"My grandmother used to recite that to me. It's by a Ponca chief. " I looked at her sideways. She still looked confused. "The Ponca Native Americans that live in Nebraska?"
"Oh."
"Yeah." Tossing my leather sack behind my shoulder, I started moving again. "I got two things from my grandma who was an Indian." God, that used to piss her off when I called her that in English. "A bunch of useless Native American sayings or "wisdom" and the more useful ability to drink everyone under the table, so that I could steal their money and be out of there before they realized what happened."
Wait for it. Yes, there is was. A shadow of a smile that turned into a dry chuckle. Good enough.
"Come on. Let's get out of here."
ethangranger: (mad scientist)
Ethan Granger, here. I’d say it was nice to meet you but then I’d be lying. Nice to meet you anyway. I have two faces, one for you and then one for me.

I had a choice. I could be afraid for the rest of my short life or I could make them afraid of me. I came to one realisation in my discourse: I was much more terrifying than they are. Oh yes, they are stronger, virulent and completely devoid and ungoverned by any set of rules which makes them inconsolably dangerous, but while they could not help their diseased natures and therefore acted predictably, I could make the choice of how cruel and merciless I wanted to be despite my very human nature. It makes one wonder who is the worse animal, doesn’t it? The one who can’t help themselves or the one who can but does otherwise. Does it matter if it is for the greater good? I’d like to think so. But I'm not sure that it matters anymore.  
ethangranger: (Default)
My life is written in chapters. One ends and another begins, but unlike any book every previous chapter seems ripped away when a new one starts. More like patterns in the desert sand before the wind wipes them away than a book if you ask me. I do not recall what the first significant chapter in my life was, but I do remember the moment that defined it.

The blisters on my feet screamed as the rough skin scratched against grainy sand of the Arizona desert as I ran. Looking behind my shoulder I could still see the campfire blaze brightly as if it were the fires of hell itself. Might as  well have been. Their screams pounded in my head like the adrenaline did through my body. I could not help them as I was in need of help myself. It started innocently enough. Twelve high school seniors enjoying  a night out on the Arizona desert around a campfire, drinking, talking and fucking. It was Friday night after all.  Except that five of those seniors literally had about eighty years on us. Vampires. What the fuck did I know about vampires?

My muscles screamed to stop as loudly as Jennifer screamed when they ripped her throat out with their fangs. Kicking up sand, I ran blindly into the desert, foolishly unthinking and without a plan. The further I got from the campfire, the darker it become and the there was no light from the moon. It was no surprise then, that in my terror and panic I tripped over my own damn feet and tumbled down into a dune.

The heat down my left arm hit me first. Surprised, I looked at it only to find myself staring at a scorpion. I had been stung. She was beautiful, deadly. And she had killed me. Ironic. But better her than those things chasing after me. Her I could not blame. I had crashed down onto her nest and killed her children. I did not flinch when she stung me again. Beautiful.

Kill me.  Before they do.  Yes, kill me. I begged silently.

Their laughs were lost to the desert. "Where are ya goin' Ethan? You could run forever out here!"
Jason, another vampire with the countenance of a football player, chimed in, "Or at least until we caught up to you." Hot blood splashed down my face when Jason's fist connected to it. My beautiful death dealer fell to the ground and was crunched under his heavy boot. No! You bastard! Bastard!

Cyann sniffed the air as Jason's fangs dull yellowish fangs drew closer to my neck. Fuck. Each time he moved me it hurt.  "Wait, Jay!" She put a hand on the neanderthal's shoulder. "His blood is tainted." Jason sniffed around me as if I was a fire hydrant that another dog had pissed on. "Shit. He was stung. I ain't drinkin' that. My mouth will be numb for days like that time I drank from that guy that bit by a rattler."

"Just kill him." Trust a woman to always have a marvelously brilliant idea. Still, I spat at her the best I could. I think I hit myself instead. The next blow broke my nose and I landed, face first, in the sand. It hurt like a bitch. The sand more than the blow.  It wasn't enough to block out the sounds of gunfire and grunts of a fight. Cyann burst into ash and I watched as she snowed down on me. The pain in my arm grew so bad that I thought I would throw up.

"We gotcha. You're alright." Yeah. Right.  Later, when they took me to some safehouse and gave me the treatment, they were convinced that I owed them something like a thank you. Didn't like my attitude apparently.
"We saved your life!" Some guy who called himself a Nightstalker yelled at me as I picked up my jacket and started walking away. I laughed dismissively at him. "The scorpion saved my life. You took it away."

My name is Ethan Granger and you will not like me.
ethangranger: (mad scientist)
"An ivory-faced and silvery-haired old woman opened the door. She had an evil face, smoothed by hypocrisy; but her manners were excellent." He quoted from a book he knew by heart.
Miranda crossed her arms against her chest and glared at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" Ethan looked at the slide in his hand and walked toward her slowly. "You know what it means, Miranda."
"You are calling me a hypocrite?"
"No."He began dryly, his voice oozing warm sarcasm dotted with affection that she was utterly blind to. Thankfully. " I'm telling you that your manners leave something to be desired."
"Piss off."
He smirked lightly, still playing with the slide before setting it down and peering at her through his dark brown eyes. Eyes that were so dark that she just couldn't read them. He was counting on it.  "You are a hypocrite. I mean, I understand. They turned someone you loved."
Miranda looked at him  incredulously. "I did not love him.  I just...I just-"
"Did not hate him?" He finished off with her very own thoughts that were from some memory of hers.
"Okay, that, right there. Is creepy. How is that you know my thoughts?"
"No matter," he replied. "Does not change the fact that you would kill whichever vampire you could not cure...except him. Makes you a hypocrite, you must admit."
Miranda shook her head. "I can cure him."
Ethan shifted on his feet as his brows furrowed as he considered something. "Question is, does he deserve it?"
Miranda opened her mouth to protest. Of course he deserved it. He did nothing not to warrant not deserving it. She was about to scold him on that finer point. "Wait a minute. Did you just suggest that I have an evil face?"
ethangranger: (smile as I tore you apart)
Now, now, do not speak so ill of me. Dr. Jekyll and Hyde, you say? No, my little lamb. There is no Dr. Jekyll here. Only a Mr. Hyde walking around in Dr. Jekyll's leathery skin. 
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