Zodiac

[Tommy Vikantiev]

Prompt List

• Aquarius
• Pisces
• Aries
• Taurus
• Gemini
• Cancer
• Leo
• Virgo
• Libra
• Scorpio
• Sagittarius
• Capricorn

[Tommy Vikantiev]

C A P R I C O R N
Ambitious, wise, disciplined, rigid, relentless, unforgiving

Tommy stood in the area outside Sal's office, waiting patiently with the bank bag in his hand. Elevated voices from inside the office carried into the room, and Tommy stared at the ceiling, squinting nervously. He sat down in one of the comfortable chairs, and then stood back up again as he heard the voices carrying closer to the massive wooden door that separated Sal's private affairs from the world. Out of habit, he thrust his hand into the pocket of his plain tweed jacket, fingers brushing against the cool plastic of his inhaler. It comforted him somewhat, but that didn't stop him from jumping as the door flung open.

"If you're such an adult, then, you won't mind accompanying Tommy on his errands today," Sal spat after the blonde figure that was storming away from him, heels slapping at the dark green carpet like horse's hooves.

The blonde whipped around. "So, that's it? I'm the help now? Clio doesn't have to play babysitter!"

"That's because Clio knows how to act her age," Sal said firmly, arms folded across his chest.

"Yeah which is like a thousand," the girl muttered, rolling her eyes. Tommy's head snapped back and forth, watching the two like a tennis match. He didn't understand her remark - Clio was late twenties, at best. Was that considered old now? Tommy was 30, so he must be ancient.

Something in Sal's face darkened significantly, and Tommy grasped his inhaler more firmly. "If you're such an adult and capable of making your own decisions, then you can take on the burden of more work, and since you still deign to fall under my roof you will fall under my rule." The expression he wore suggested that any further argument would be met with violence.

There was a tense silence, and Sal widened his eyes. "Dahlia."

She huffed and looked away, obviously beaten. "Yes, father," she said begrudgingly.

"Good!" His entire demeanor changed, and he gestured to Tommy. "So sorry to have kept you waiting, Thomas. If you will, the safe is ready to be counted. You're expected to the bank at noon, you can see Mr. Smith in his office. If you'll excuse me, I need to make a phone call." He reached out and embraced Tommy, which was strange, and Tommy stood there stiffly. "Take care of my Dahl, won't you?" he said, though it was very clearly not a request, and left them in the office.

A few seconds passed and the two stood in silence, and then Dahlia snapped so suddenly that it made Tommy jump - again. "Don't just stand there like an idiot, if we have to be downtown by noon, you need to get going!" she said, hands up in frustration.

"Yes, of course," he said, rushing to the safe. As he quickly counted and made notes on the book in the safe, he could hear Dahlia behind him, every sound she made impatient. She made him nervous - but then again, everything made him nervous. "Could you back up a few steps, please?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her as she hovered.

"Man, how did a guy like you ever get hired to work for Sal?" she asked.

Tommy backed out of the safe, nudging it shut as he stood. It locked on its own. "I'm good at math," he shrugged.

"Is that why you dress like a math teacher?" Dahlia asked, eyes moving up and down Tommy in a way that made him want to button his jacket. She was leaning on Sal's desk, long legs crossed at the knee as she casually invaded every aspect of Tommy's daily routine. "But you look like an overgrown fifteen year old. How is that possible?"

Tommy felt a flicker of anger somewhere in his gut, but he ignored it, pushing his glasses up with a finger to stop them from sliding down the bridge of his nose any further, as they so often did. "Has anyone ever told you that you're very rude, miss Dahlia?" He clenched the bank bag with his other hand, protectively.

Dahlia threw her head back and laughed. It wasn't a forced laugh, either. She straightened up off the desk, reaching out to take Tommy by the arm that wasn't locked down on the bank bag. "Come on, Thomas, let's go drop off daddy's money. Then, you can take me to lunch."

"It's Tommy," he corrected her, but she wasn't listening.

On the drive to the bank, Tommy noticed that Dahlia was quiet - well, quieter than he would have expected. She was going back and forth between texting and admiring a ring on her hand. Was it an engagement ring? It was a massive ruby, almost garish if anyone were to ask his opinion (Tommy was a traditionalist, and a giant blood red stone didn't scream eternal love). "Did your boyfriend give you that?" he asked finally.

Dahlia laughed again. "Jesus Christ no. I gave it to myself," she said. It wasn't a total lie - her father had just gotten done dressing her down, and the one theme of the entire berating session was that it was Dahlia's fault and her fault alone. She smiled again, only it wasn't the same smile as before - it was colder. She looked down at it, making a fist and shifting her hand to catch the light on the stones. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

"I don't really know enough about jewelry to say," Tommy stammered. The more he looked at it, the more ugly he thought it was. He looked back at the road, letting out a long sigh. "We''re going to be late. There's a wreck up ahead. Lunch rush in New York." He hated being late. He had never been late in his life.

"No, we'll be fine," Dahlia said, sitting up. "Take a left here through this alley, I know a shortcut."

True to her word, Dahlia did know a shortcut around the traffic, and they got to the parking garage of the bank with five minutes to spare. Dahlia muttered something as they got out of the car, face buried in her phone. "I hate these underground lots, they never have signal. It's like, would it kill them to put some WiFi down here?"

A loud noise made Tommy instinctively duck and drop the bag, hands going up to cover his head. He was deaf, ears full only of a high pitched noise, and everything else around him was a blur. His glasses were speckled with something and his face was wet; he lowered his shaking hands down to take his glasses off and observe them, mouth dry and heart racing. There was red all over them. As though everything were in slow-motion, he looked past his glasses to Dahlia's body on the ground, limbs askew, phone just out of reach. She was face down; the back of her head opened up, bits of skull and grey matter on the ground around her.

Tommy felt reality beginning to speed back up as men in black shouted at him, pointing a gun in his face. He felt himself unable to breathe and reached for his inhaler, frantically patting at his jacket. His fingers grasped at empty space, and he began to panic even more, struggling as he tried to wrench himself from the grip of the assailants. He managed to slip out of his jacket that they firmly held, but he felt everything around him growing dark as he struggled to take in air.

"What's his fucking problem?" he heard one say.

"Just shoot him, we have the money," the other said.

Tommy fell to his knees, still fighting for air, trying to force himself to calm down. Shoot him? Come on man, you're about to DIE, stop fucking around and DO something! he urged himself. Why are you so weak, just GET UP. But he couldn't summon the strength, and curled into the fetal position, suffocating. Everything went black.

Jesus fucking Christ, alright, if you won't do it, I will.

"That was way easier than it should have been," the first man said to the second. He was bent down over Dahlia's corpse, looking at the ring on her hand.

"Hey, come on - he said we could keep the money we found, but we aren't supposed to touch anything else!"

"So what? Dude, who gives a fuck. They're dead. He'll never know if we take a few personal things off of them for safekeeping. Besides, this rock is huge. Do you think it's real?" He reached out, gloved fingers picking up her hand and preparing to remove the ring.

"Hey, you know something? You guys are really rude," a voice from behind them said.

Both men whipped around, stunned to see Tommy standing up, looking perfectly fine.

"Oh look, the little geek thinks we're rude," the one who was about to steal Dahlia's ring said. He pulled his gun out from the back of his pants, pointing it level at Tommy. "Well buddy, sorry to hurt your feelings. Let me apologize."

"Dude, wait - LOOK," the other one said, shoving the first. He pointed to beyond Tommy, to where Tommy's body(?) still lay, curled into a ball. "What the fuck?"

"That guy?" notTommy said, a dark expression on his face. "Don't worry about that guy." And he lunged at the one with the gun.


Dahlia sat up from the pavement suddenly, taking in air so sharply that her throat burned. "Ugh, my fucking head," she hissed. She pushed off of the ground with shaking hands, struggling to remember what had happened. She wandered to Tommy's car and rested on the hood, looking at a lot of blood smeared across the concrete. "What the fuck happened?"

"Heya, dollface," Tommy said, his voice startling Dahlia. "Deposit's all done. Thanks for the shortcut. Here's your phone, by the way. You dropped it, but I fixed it for you. Battery just popped out." He held it out to her.

"Tommy?" she said, taking the phone from him slowly. The man talking to her looked like Tommy, but that was about where it stopped. His posture, his voice - everything about him.

"Nah, that's Tommy," he said, pointing past her to the car. Wedged between two bodies in the back seat, Tommy sat up, buckled in, body slumped in unconsciousness. His face and jacket was splattered with blood, and his glasses hung on the bridge of his nose, threatening to fall off. He was sandwiched between two larger bodies, both in black ski masks, who were also slumped over. Dahlia could smell the blood from where she stood.

"Then who the fuck are you?" she hissed.

"Call me Vik," he said. "Now get in the car, I gotta get you back to Sal before he murders me." He walked to her door and opened it, gesturing for her to get in. "And on the way back, you're gonna tell me everything about that ring of yours."

He said it in a friendly manner, but something told Dahlia that it was not a request.

[Tommy Vikantiev]

A Q U A R I U S
open-minded, creative, intellectual, impulsive, unpredictable, extremist

The grandfather clock in the hallway outside Ethan's office ticked loudly. Vik rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to stand up so he didn't fall asleep. The sound was maddening; like a metronome. He wondered if Ethan put that stupid ass clock out there to help hypnotize people like some Insidious-ass bullshit. He walked in a small circle, arms crossed, fingers tapping the beat of a DJ Krush song he'd heard on the way in. At least he'd managed to expose Dahlia to something besides whatever the hell it was she liked to listen to. That was a plus - because nothing else about being appointed her "chaperone" was. Ever since Sal had realized that Tommy was not normal, he'd been tasking him with tagging along for anything and everything Dahlia did.

But Tommy and Vik knew that it wasn't Tommy Sal was tasking out. At least it had gotten easier to push the little dweeb aside - Vik operated almost like a second stream of consciousness. He was nowhere near as buried as he'd been before, pretty much now taking the position as the devil on Tommy's shoulder. Since he was so ever-present now in Tommy's brain, it made taking the controls much easier. Oh, Tommy fought back occasionally, but not well. Probably for the better - Vik was content at being the "dark side". He wasn't interesting in ever merging back.

The door to the office opened, and Vik glanced over his shoulder. "Fucking finally," he hissed. He turned fully, waiting for Dahlia to finish whatever she was saying so that they could leave and he could get on with his day, but she was stopped in the doorway and staring at him. "Let's go," he said, gesturing impatiently. "I got shit to do."

"See? That's nothing like Tommy," she said, turning back to what was presumably Ethan, unseen on the other side of the doorway. Her words caused Vik to make an irritated noise, and she heard him approaching her.

"Your checkups with Doctor Death are about you, Dahl, not me. It's time to go," he snapped, taking her arm. Yeah, Vik didn't really give a fuck about playing dainty with Dahlia fucking Godric. She may have looked small and cute, but she was a goddamned junkyard dog when she wanted to be. And besides, Sal never said how to keep her in line.

"Doctor Death? Hn," Ethan said, an amused look crossing his face; it faded as quickly as it had come. "I appreciate the promotion, but I didn't actually finish med school."

"Yeah, yeah. Too busy playing house with the bodies in the morgue, we all know the story," Vik said, rolling his eyes. "Now if you'll excuse your corpse du jour, we have somewhere to be." Somewhere that wasn't around Ethan, more pointedly. Vik made no motion to hide his dislike for the Necromancer. And even if he'd tried to hide it, Ethan would know. But hiding things was more Tommy's gig, wasn't it?

Dahlia tugged her arm back, which didn't surprise Vik at all. He let it go, because he wasn't actually to the point of hurting her - yet. "Alright, well, Vik the Dick says we have somewhere to be, so I guess he won't want to hear your theory on how Tommy will eventually absorb him out of existence," she said glibly. She tugged the sleeve of her black and floral-print dress back up on her shoulder where it was supposed to be, no thanks to him wrenching her around like a doll. "Come on, let's go," she said, and she looked dead into his eyes and smiled.

Fucking bitch. Vik sighed, dropping his head. "Alright, Dahl." He looked back up, then leaned in uncomfortably close to her. "Let's hear his theory." He walked past her and fully into Ethan's office - or whatever the fuck it was, because it looked more like some sort of day-room/study-type situation than a formal setting. There was a massive picture window on one side, and the other walls were covered with books - mostly old, some teetering on relics. Between some of the books were things he expected to find, skulls and other death paraphernalia. He looked at Ethan, brows perked, and thrust his hands into his pockets. "So?"

Ethan looked down, laughing, and lightly scratched his brow. "So now you're interested? Typical. That fear of ceasing to exist, it's the same across all creatures. And, of course, it keeps the lights on, so, you know." Ethan shrugged, and dropped down on his desk. He absently plucked up a green feather - Chandra's, no doubt.

"Come on, Ethan. Tell him what you told me," Dahlia pressed.

"Yeah, tell me what you told her," Vik echoed, looking annoyed.

"Well, it's just that - and this is only my humble opinion, of course - eventually, Tommy is going to stop being so mentally unstable that you won't just be one of his repressed, uncontrollable emotional manifestations. And you'll just - " he made a gesture with his hand, and the feather disappeared in a small flame and puff of smoke.

"Disappear," Vik said, tone neutral.

"Well, yeah. Can't have both of you vying for the reins for eternity, can you?" Ethan asked.

"No, I get that - but I have some thoughts," he said. Ethan motioned for him to continue, and Vik held his hand up. "One," he said, raising his thumb, "you're banking on the fact that Tommy eventually stops being afraid of his own shadow, which, let's face it pal, is never gonna happen as long as he's gainfully employed by Salvatore fucking Godric, and two," he said, holding up his index finger, "is that he's going to be able to actually overpower me, if and when that time comes." He paused. "And three," he said, holding up his middle finger, then lowering his hand altogether, "is that I may not know much about you, but I do know that you don't do nothin' for free. So I'm gonna ask you this once before I go tell Sal about our little conversation - what the fuck is any of this to you?"

Ethan shrugged. "Let's just say I have a vested interest in keeping things how they are right now. And you're right, I don't do anything for free. But I haven't done anything except given you a little friendly advice. Now, since I know you absolutely intend to go and tell Sal every detail of this encounter, do me a favour and tell him that if he's going to continuously piss off the damn devil himself, the least he could do is send a fucking fruit basket when we have to help clean up the mess."

Vik blinked rapidly, and Ethan's expression of neutrality broke into a huge smile. "Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, kind of shitty that he tasked you with keeping his offspring safe when he's the one making it so that it's dangerous to even go outside these days."

"We're going," Dahlia cut in, and it was her turn to grab Vik's arm. She saw him clench his fist, and knew that Ethan was trying to get to him - and it was working. "I'll see you," she told Ethan over her shoulder, shoving Vik towards the door.

"Of course, Dahlia. Do be a dear, let me know if those dreams don't stop. I've never seen side-effects from my enchanted rings.  I'm interested to see where this is going," Ethan said cryptically.

"Yeah, I bet you are," she muttered under her breath. Once they were out of his office and down the hall, Vik had about enough of Dahlia trying to herd him, and gave her a firm push - her only warning to stop. She did, thankfully, but the walk to the car was an uncomfortable silence. Vik usually didn't do uncomfortable or awkward, but Dahlia was damned good at both of those things as far as he was concerned.

"I don't think he meant literally - "

"Stop, Dahlia," Vik said, holding up a finger. He wouldn't even look at her, and took a deep breath before turning on the car.

"Vik," she trailed off.

"I honestly couldn't give a fuck about your creepy little dead dude boytoy or what he has to say concerning the devil and your dad," Vik insisted. He looked over at her finally. "But you can't not tell me about the shit with the ring. Your dad will fucking kill me if he hears that shit, do you get that? Not like, the kind of kill where Frankenstein back there can bring me back either, he will kill me like dead dead. Do you fucking understand that?"

"I'm sorry," she insisted, trying not to cry. "I'm just really fucking scared, okay?"

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He began patting his jacket for something, fingers frantic as they searched. He pulled his inhaler from the hidden inside pocket and shook it before taking two deep breaths from it. His entire demeanor changed, from angry and worried to just...

Dahlia's expression changed. "Wait - Tommy?" she asked. She quickly wiped at her eyes. She'd never seen Tommy come back into control in the middle of one of Vik's rants.

"Yeah, it's me," he reassured her. He reached over and pulled her in, making shushing noises as she cried into his chest. "It's okay, it's okay," he soothed. "I won't tell Sal, okay? I won't tell him about any of this. I don't know what nonsense Ethan was talking about, but we'll fix it, alright?" There was a pause. "Also, tell me that you have my glasses, because I gotta drive us home and I can't see."

[Tommy Vikantiev]

C A N C E R
faithful, loving, intuitive, moody, unpredictable, suspicious

Vik stood outside, slowly smoking a cigarette. He usually sucked them down, but he'd literally locked Tommy in a closet upstairs in Dahlia's room, and he wanted to savor his freedom while it lasted. No doubt she'd see him and go looking for the other one immediately. Fucking buzzkill. Honestly, he was working up to just taking over the single body instead of splitting off of him. It had worked a few times, but Tommy was getting stronger in his fight, and Vik was often too tired to try and fight for the damn remote. He didn't understand what she saw in that anxious mess, honestly. And speak of the devil - he spotted her coming down the block, talking to another blonde who looked like she was hassling her. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the body language was clear enough.

"Listen, Grancourt's not your guy, your friend is right," Dahlia snapped, coming into earshot finally.

"Look, I'm fucking running out of options. I know about that ring of yours - "

"SHHH!" Dahlia exploded, waving her hands. She grabbed the other blonde and jerked her closer, practically dragging her to the front of the hotel. "Listen, that's not something that we just announce, okay? And anyways, this ring comes with a problem set of its own, so trust me when I say, you need to go back over some of your other options."

"Is there a problem, Dahl?" Vik asked. He didn't make any move toward them, but he did shift his position to be more upright instead of slouched against the wall.

"No, there's no problem, because my new friend here was just going," Dahlia said, now pushing the blonde away from the hotel.

"Wha- hey!" Aurora snapped. "First of all, quit fucking jerking me around - literally - or I'm going to break your fucking hand," she said.

"Ohhhhhhh," Vik said, making a face. He pushed off the wall now.

"Not now, Vik," Dahlia snapped. "Listen, Aurora, I can't help you. And neither can they. You already talked to Eli, you know the gig. My dad isn't going to give you a better offer; it's going to be worse. You think Aristide is bad? You gotta find another way, man. I know you're trying to do the right thing, but I promise, there's nothing in here for you," she said, her voice almost desperate. She stood between Aurora and the door of the hotel purposely, and Vik got the general gist of the fact that she was trying to stop her from going on. She hoped he'd listen when she told him to chill, or else this was going to end up bloody - for all of them.

"Yeah?" Aurora said. She had a look in her eyes, one that they both clearly saw meant she wasn't going to listen. "Let me be the judge of that."

Dahlia looked like she wanted to say something else, but she held her hands up. "You know what? Go right the fuck ahead. I'll even tell you where to go. Lounge, back left table. Oh, and tell my dad I'll be late," she spat.

Aurora stared at her for a second, and then went inside, leaving Dahlia outside with Vik. Dahlia let out a loud, frustrated noise, and then held her hand out to Vik.

"Gimmie it," she said.

"Ask nicely," he said, a fresh cigarette now in his mouth.

"Vik," she snapped.

"Dahlia," he said back, mocking her tone. "Listen, you want one, you gotta ask politely. You can push Tommy around, but you're not doin' to me, got me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Can I please have one?" She made a noise when he finally went for his pack. "Some time today, before my dad comes out," she said, rushing him along. She lit the cigarette and went to the other side of him, trying to make herself less visible. After a few drags, she just shook her head, muttering to herself.

"You need me to go inside and drag her ass back out?" Vik offered. He could see she was still clearly bothered.

"No, no," Dahlia said, waving a hand. "She'll figure it out. I just - like, I'm happy that I've got some mojo keeping me alive, but man, the trade off is fucking terrible."

"You still seeing shit?"

She nodded. "Dad said he can help manage it, but he said that there's always a price, all stern and shit. He's still pretty mad I did it, but, no undoing it now," she shrugged.

"You ever realize you can just take the ring off?" Vik said, giving her a Look.

"Yeah, sure, and then get shot in the face, or poisoned, or in a car wreck, or whatever else happens." She took a final drag off of her cigarette, then flicked it out into the street. "No thanks, man. Dying is for losers."

Vik tossed his cigarette and followed her in. On one hand, he was enjoying his 'me' time, but on the other hand, he wanted to be close when she found Tommy's unconscious ass so he could jump back into him before she could start swinging on him.