Finally Made A Last Life Design For Etho 🌲☃️

✨ Gem and the Scotts ✨

Inspired by The Hesitant Fiancé by Auguste Toulemouche

-The aftermath of the curse and self-care-

After Etho failed his boogieman course task, he comes back to the base alone. He still can feel remains of the bloodlust under his skin, curse still clouding his vision. The vicious death by Scar, the hunt of Joel, the no hesitation in Gem’s eyes about killing him after he let Cleo and Grian go.

The firm hand on Etho’s shoulder snaps him out. It’s Cleo. And Grian. Both ready to welcome him no matter what.

there should be a shiny duo (gem and pearl) high society vampire au where when they initially meet they're competing for, basically, hunting territory, and are rivals at first sight but very quickly realize that outside of being rivals they click like nobody else. so like from an outsider pov these two lovely ladies are absolute darlings to each other. only some of the other (human) socialites clock that their back-and-forths have hidden meanings but they have no fucking clue what they're ACTUALLY talking about behind the pleasantries which probably drives those socialites insane. which obviously they retaliate by starting gossip and spreading rumors about both gem and pearl, some rumors individually about them and others implicating them both. this of course culminating in them being blamed for some hoity-toity white collar Big Scandal that comes out because all these stuck up folks are like I Always Knew There Was Something Up With Them... (but really they're just jealous they're not In On whatever they're talking about). and now gem and pearl must of course unite (they are secretly super excited about having an excuse to put aside their rivalry and work together) and use their joint hundreds of years of experience, connections, and vampiress powers to unravel the threads of lies of the White Collar Scandal that is of course intertwined with something Much Dark (who knows what, not me) that idk maybe also involves vampire hunters too for extra flavor. anyway.

Lady with a Bee, 2023

Paint Tool Sai

goretober 25 : monster | hermithorrorweek 3 : chase

The thing in her cargo hold is looking at her again.

Really, Gem should have sold it by now. If the fishmonger had refused to take it--and really, it seems unlikely, Gem thinks, that the fishmonger would refuse to take it; he has taken and carved up and made meals of far stranger fish than one with a human face and hands and torso--she could have easily sold it to the man on the train, who takes exotic catches for his zoo. She could have even taken it to Grian; it's not a mending book, but it's the sort of thing he'd like to make fun of her for catching, instead of anything she's after.

Really, she should have. The longer she keeps the thing in her cargo hold, the more it starts to look properly human to her. She should know better. She has caught far stranger fish, and none of them have been human. It's another trick these seas have been playing on her, she thinks.

Long nights alone do that to a woman.

She ignores it. Instead, she opens the lid of the tank and starts depositing salmon. "It's a really weird request, that I keep them alive the whole time. You won't eat them, right?" Gem says, knowing the thing in her cargo hold can't answer. "Because if you eat them, this time, I really am going to sell you to the fishmonger. Or maybe I can figure out how to get fillets from you on my own? I've certainly eaten weirder fish..."

The thing in the cargo hold continues to stare. It has eyes that look like little moons, and brown hair, and it is smiling for some reason. Gem huffs.

"Don't give me that look! You are a fish. I am a fisherman. If mere human faces stopped me from doing my job, I would have gone mad a long time ago."

The thing in the cargo hold smiles wider. The lights flicker. Gem rolls her eyes and finishes putting salmon in the tank. As though to spite her, the thing in the cargo hold immediately lashes out, grabbing one in the claws on her otherwise-human hands and then tearing it apart with razor-sharp teeth. Blood rises on the water. Gem sighs.

"I have a harpoon in here somewhere, or at least a very sharp knife," she says to herself. She doesn't really want to use her nice knife, the one she always keeps on her belt, but she ought to have another knife around with which she can finish the job, right?

The lights flicker and go out. When she looks across at the tank, there are two silvery-moon eyes looking at her.

Gem pulls a wire. Gem turns the lights back on. She takes a deep breath.

"I really should have sold you by now, really. If the fishmonger won't take you, then the zookeeper would love you," Gem says.

The radio crackles. Gem startles. Very, very few people ever contact her on the shipboard radio, but if she's getting a signal, that's more important than a grudge match with a fish. She heads over to answer the call.

An amalgamation of voices responds:

YOU ARE FUNNY. I HAVE A MESSAGE. A DELIVERY. YOU'VE TRAPPED ME THOUGH.

Slowly, Gem turns around to the thing in the cargo hold.

"This won't stop me from treating you like a fish," she says. "If messages from the ocean stopped me--"

A terrible, crackling laugh sounds from the radio.

I AM THE MOON'S PEARL. YOU WILL NOT HOLD ME FOREVER. WE WILL SEE WHO EATS WHO.

Gem wags her finger. "We'll see, for sure, as long as you don't eat my salmon. That man in the fish-scaled suit was VERY insistent, you know."

TELL ME MORE.

"You're tying up my radio. What if there's another ship? What if there's something important?"

OH GEM. YOU KNOW THERE WON'T BE.

Gem swallows.

The thing in the cargo hold is staring at her.

"I need to sleep. I need to go to shore," she says.

YOU WON'T, the radio says.

She won't.

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A fog has rolled in. 

She’d first noticed while cleaning up the kitchen after dinner, Pearl long gone. Gem couldn't blame her for leaving as soon as she did; she had a long day at work. It was something about the mail system breaking and troubleshooting for five hours. It sounded exhausting. Gem was happy to clean up by herself if it meant he got some rest- by god, did he deserve it.

She whistled to herself as she wiped down the table, the mindless task not keeping her attention very long. Her eyes wandered to the window in search of anything more interesting to focus on, when she noticed the thick mist obstructing her view of the beach. Her eyebrows furrowed. There wasn’t any reason for fog tonight, given that a heat wave had passed through earlier that day. But she wasn’t a meteorologist; who was she to know why it’d be foggy? Gem let it slip from her mind. She had better things to worry about than a simple bit of fog. It was nothing the lighthouse couldn’t fix. 

Gem rinsed her rag and shook it out to dry before moving on to the door, sliding on her boots, throwing on her coat, and grabbing the lighthouse key from its hook. As its keeper, she had to make sure the lighthouse was up and running every night, a routine she’d become quite familiar with these past few months. 

Outside felt more foreign with the dank, chill mist of the fog, a stark contrast to the warm, still evening air earlier that night. She was glad to escape it when she reached the tower and its winding staircase. Though, she wasn’t saved by its embrace for long before she reached the top. The chilled air made her shiver when she opened the door, and she made sure to pull her coat tighter around her. This was fine; she didn’t have to be up here long anyway. 

The lighthouse keeper made her way to the lamp inside of its glass enclosure, flicking on the switch and watching it blink to life. The light’s beam illuminated the fog, yet she could still barely see. Gem frowned, hoping the ships could see, at least. 

She made sure to grab the bucket filled with bottles of cleaning supplies and rags, and decided to get to work. Turning back to the door, she could swear eyes were peering at her from the corners of the fog, watching her every move with a searing scrutiny. She whipped her head to the side, finding nothing there. Unease settled into the pit of her stomach. 

It’s just your mind playing tricks on you, Gem. You’re stressed, you didn’t get a lot of sleep and the fog’s only creeping you out, okay? She hoped what she said to herself was true.

She had almost forgotten about what was freaking her out in the first place as she continued her duties as lighthouse keeper. That is, until she heard the whispering. She had been on the outside walkway of the tower, cleaning the rails when it started. A shiver ran down her spine as a mirage of voices murmured in her ears, faint enough to not be able to make out what they’re saying. Faint enough to not know if they were real. 

Okay, fuck this. 

Anxiety flared in her chest, causing her to heave for air as she frantically threw her cleaning supplies into their bucket. Sure, she was brave Gem who ran the lighthouse by herself, but she wasn’t stupid. She was probably having a nervous breakdown. It was the stress. Her job was getting to her. She would just take the rest of the night easy and stop by Doc in the morning to double check if anything’s wrong with her. 

Gem fully ditched her bucket and headed to leave. A single, dim light cut through the haze of the night in the distance. Grian. Of course, leave it to him to be her saving beacon in a time like this. 

She said her thanks and prayers to any deities she could think of as she practically sprinted down the stairs, almost tripping once or twice. Gem was barely thinking as she undocked her boat, sailing across the river for company. She just needed to not feel so alone right now. Hopefully the man’s presence would calm her, even if just slightly. Gem thought it to be unlikely, but she could at least hope.

She found Grian in his usual spot on the dock. He’d built a small hut beside it since she last saw him- about a week now, she guessed? He’s still fishing, just like their last time together. Hopefully, he’d be in a better mood now. 

Gem docked in front of him, only being lit by his dingy lamp, which is even less bright due to the fog. She could only tell that he noticed her by his curt nod in her general direction. 

“Grian?” Gem started tentatively, leaning off the side of the hull. She wasn’t sure what might provoke him. “Have you seen anything…” Gem trailed off, wanting to avoid informing him of her experience. She wasn’t sure why, but something told her not to tell him, “unusual? Lately?”

He shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong to me.” She looked him over. Deep bags have settled under his eyes. He looked exhausted. “Why?”

Gem hummed in response. “Nothing, just wondering if you were alright with the fog and everything.” No response. She shifted on her feet in a wish to stave off her unrest. “Well, um. Goodnight?” He only grunted. Alright? Weird, but what was new with him?

She moved to undock and sail back. Gem gripped the wheel tightly, a restless, agitated feeling rumbling in her gut. Something didn’t seem right, something beyond her anxiety. 

The boat continued along the water, when a shape emerged from the fog- something she could swear wasn’t there ten feet beforehand. A large, jagged rock appeared in her headlights, seemingly out of nowhere. She cursed, panickedly swerving to avoid it. A terrible scraping sound filled the still air. Shit.

Luckily, the rest of the way back home was normal. Gem frantically parked her ship at the dry dock, investigating the gash in her hull that was very, very real. She swore that rock wasn’t there before! Whatever. Just go to sleep. 

The next morning, she went out to investigate her path. Examining the river, she couldn’t find any rocks that she could have hit on the course she was on. She needs to make that appointment with Doc. Quick.

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