Work Text:
Your name is Dave. After a work party, you’re admittedly a little drunk, and stumble through the door into your swanky, modern apartment. It’s decorated in a little bit too much red for your liking. This travesty of home design was caused by a few things: It being a certain friend’s favourite colour (you got lead-free paint so she could lick the walls safely,) John insisting that you stick to your “theme colour,” and a bunch of other trivial nonsense. It all makes you consider moving out, so you can stop staring at this god-forsaken colour with your tired eyes, which also happen to be red. Are they bloodshot, or have you been cursed with crazy-looking red irises? The answer is yes.
The newest addition to this red hell (isn’t hell always red?) is a splatter of what looks like blood on the wall. You squint at it, and it doesn’t look candy red, but a little darker, a bit like your own. If being around for a few thousand years taught you anything, it was to always find out who the blood’s from before you freak out. Part of you hopes that your roommate finally kicked the (human and non-obscene) bucket, before you realize that she’d probably come straight back to eternal life and continue shrieking along to Marina and the Diamonds all fucking night, every night. What a nocturnal pain in the ass.
Floating to keep your socks white, you follow the trail of mysterious blood of unknown origins to the bathroom door. Of course, you don’t even bother knocking before you throw that bad boy open and find your roommate, standing with her back towards you. She’s blocking the view of the tub, but it seems to be where the origin of all this blood is, if the bloody equivalent of the nile flowing down the pale ceramic and onto the floor is anything to go by.
“Dude. You’d better clean that up before Rose visits, she’ll flip her shit.”
“Oh hello, Dave!” Your death-enthusiast roommate whips around, the blood in her hair splattering across the mirror behind her. You’re just glad that it didn’t get on your suit. “Are you liking the new decorations?”
“Aradia. What on Earth C are you doing?” You float to the side a little, trying to get a peek at the tub. Your nose wrinkles when you see a definitely-human hand draped over the side of it. “Man, is that a dead body? What did I say about bringing corpses in the house? That thing’s gonna stink tomorrow.”
“First of all, I’m just trying to partake in your human tradition of Halloween, and I heard that corpses and blood are all the rage at this time of year!” Aradia wrings some of the blood out of her hair, and it splatters all over the already-bloodied bathroom tiles. “Second of all, I didn’t bring a corpse in, I made one appear!”
You take a moment to collect yourself, and pinch the bridge of your nose.
“You’re trying to tell me that you killed someone for the aesthetic?”
“Maybe.”
“Jesus christ, dude.” You get a closer look, and just when you think your day couldn’t get worse, you actually recognise the corpse marinating in all that blood. “Is that Jade?”
“She agreed to be the corpse!”
In a bright flash of light that makes you glad you have sunglasses on all day for the irony of it, Jade’s alive again, bright-eyed and quite literally bushy-tailed.
“Hi Dave, Happy Halloween!”