#Thomas Harcroft

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Teagan couldn’t take her eyes off the body, off the figure on the floor and the growing pool of blood around them. She wanted to, wanted desperately to run from the room and never look back. Wanted to wake up from this horrific nightmare because it couldn’t really be happening. It just couldn’t.

‘Teagan,’ came Tom’s voice, his face filled her field of view in an instant. Hands placed firmly on her shoulders, grounding her in the moment even if something in the back of her mind wondered if this wasn’t some horrific nightmare. ‘You need to get out of here.’

‘Jules…’ Her attention shifted to the stairs, to the pathway that would take her to her brother. But he was standing there, a smoking gun still held tightly in his steady hand. She’d never seen his eyes look so cold, his expression so focused. ‘Julian?’

He blinked once, and she thought it might be as though he was waking from a dream himself. But there was nothing like that. The chilling look merely moved from the body on the floor to Uncle Tom.

‘No,’ she said, but the word caught in her throat as Uncle Tom forced her towards the back entrance of the shop.  

‘You need to get out of here,’ Tom said, hands still gripping her shoulders.

‘He’s my brother,’ she told him, hearing the pleading note behind her own voice. It should have shocked her, how calm Uncle Tom was, but her brain couldn’t fully hold onto that. All she could think about was the ease with which Julian had simply pulled the trigger. She couldn’t accept that it was her brother at all, not really. He would never do something like this. Never.

‘Julian, what’s going on?’ their mother’s voice asked, even and far more detached than Teagan was used to hearing. She swore. ‘You killed him?’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ Julian said, a floorboard creaked and Teagan gave a nervous squeak.

‘Where’s your sister?’

Whatever Julian said next, Teagan missed it. Uncle Tom was already ushering her out of the back exit, placing himself as a shield between herself and the horrors that had suddenly made themselves a home in the place she’d felt safest.

As soon as they were out in the mid-afternoon sunlight, he pushed her towards the street, barely pushing the door closed behind them.

‘It’s OK,’ Tom said softly as they reached the alleyway entrance, ‘we’ll sort this.’

‘How?’ she asked in a hollow voice, turning to look at her uncle. There was panic behind his eyes, but something told her it wasn’t for the situation. It was a concern for her that pinched his brow. Julian’s actions hadn’t shocked him in the slightest.

He pulled her in for a tight hug, one that she wanted to pull away from and yet traitorously her heart needed. She found herself hugging him back, holding onto him as if he were an anchor in the sudden upheaval.

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he whispered against her head. ‘But you don’t need to worry about it.’

Teagan nodded, despite knowing that there was no way she could ignore what she’d just seen. No way she could simply not worry about whatever came next.

[marrowwife]

- A WIP INTRO - Parable Of The Hound

"I'm sorry," Flea said, surprised to find that she did in fact feel pity for the mundie, "You're soul has been bargained to a demon."

"My soul?" The woman's mouth stuttered open in a gasp, hand crawling up to clutch the cross at her neck.

"Unfortunately so."

Flea had never understood the mundane preoccupation with the sanctity of a soul, to her it had always been just another possession. A thing that could be taken if she wasn't careful. She expected the woman to cry, but instead her eyes, brown like obsidian in the candlelight, met Flea's with a strength that twisted something in the pit below her rib cage, winding her.

"Right then," the woman said, "How do we get it back?"

- ABOUT -

Genre: queer gaslamp fantasy

POV: third person limited

Status: planning / drafting

Trigger Warnings: fantasy typical violence, body horror, death, gore, tba

- BLURB -

Magic is not natural. It is bargained for, won, bestowed or stolen. But it has never occurred on its own in the earthly plane. Not without the coaxing of a demon and the hunger of a magician.

Phoebe 'Flea' Saint Vindictus was born into a long line of magicians, nebulously tied to Saint Vindictus, one of the first. Flea hasn't played the game of the old blood for nearly ten years, however, fleeing her home after a failed ritual killed her mother. Instead, Flea has taken up the thankless title of Praetorian (refered to as the derogatory Hounds by magicians and parading as detectives for the mundanes), those who clean up the often bloody, demonic messes left by magicians who break the rules. Shunned by magician society and estranged from the mundane, the life of a Praetor is a lonely one, and Flea would choose it ten times over returning to the cult of the old blood.

But when a string of possessions begin to torment the mundane world, Flea and her partner catch onto the scent of something bigger than magician arrogance. A demon may take hold of the body of a human, may walk in their skin until it's possession eventually kills the host and the demon is sent back to its own plane. But the last time demons walked on earth with their own feet, only flood and fire and near extinction drove them back behind the gates. And someone is trying to open them again. Someone who is close to succeeding.

- CHARACTERS -

Phoebe 'Flea' Saint Vindictus; The Hound

"Flea had kept very few things from her childhood, a handful of scars and her nickname, cruelly bestowed by her brothers. Lovingly crooned by her mother. All she had left."

Thomas Harcroft; The Haunted

"Flea could never tell what exactly was spinning and weaving behind his colourless eyes, but it always led them exactly where they needed to be. That was why she never requested a transfer. Even if Thomas Harcroft was better known by magician and mundie alike as Cerberus, the last thing one saw passing through the gates of death."

Margaret 'Greta' Lowell; The Cursed

"Margaret Lowell's smile was quite lovely. Flea could almost forget the brand attached to to her soul, the slow progression of possession that would rot her flesh from the inside, when that smile was aimed at her. She wondered, briefly, if that was what mundies felt when their Christ gazed down at them from church windows; a strange, ignorant peace."

Montgomery 'Monty' Saint Alludian; The Charlatan

"'Monty!' Flea called again, her heavy handed pounding upon the door unceasing. From within she could hear the sound of someone cursing. The door wrenched open and Flea barged through, shoving past the beautiful man haloed by the light of a glittering array of stained glass at his back. Montgomery Saint Alludian, loosely garbed in vibrant silk and a tumble of dark Grecian curls, slammed his own front door behind her with a rare scowl.

'No, of course, do come in little cousin, how am I? Wonderful. Enjoying some well earned solitude actually. Very peaceful.'"

Hyacinthus 'Cin' Saint Vindictus; The Heir

"Cin reached for her, fingers faltering just short of the top of her head.

'You cut your hair.'

'You would too if you ever had to rinse demon guts out of it.'

"Of course," Cin's hand retreated to his own head of golden locks and he cast her a rueful smile. Her mother's eyes peered back at her from his face and she looked away, teeth gritted.

'Why are you here?'"

- TAGLIST -

(ask to be +/-)

@touchingmadness @dreamwolves @philocalizt @wildswrites @aeipathys

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Julian glared at his uncle and wondered if perhaps taking him out wasn’t actually the worst of ideas. His father might not actually thank him for it, but at least then it would only be his parents’ minds that he needed to sway, and not the other person who seemed adamant that it was a reckless idea.

‘I’m serious,’ Tom said, matching the glare with an icy look of his own. To most people, that look might have been enough to make them step back. But Julian had learnt how to deal with worse than a glare from a young age. From people worse than Thomas Harcroft.

‘So am I,’ Julian said simply, not bothering to look at his father as he heard the seat shift. They all knew that his father was on Tom’s side; that he wanted to keep his precious little girl out of the family business for as long as humanly possible. But for once, Julian feared his father was simply being sentimental. All logical thinking had flown out the window the minute the idea was voiced.

‘Why?’ Tom asked, head tilted a little to the side. It was the look Julian had seen countless times before; a look he’d seen offered to customers of the bookshop as if there wasn’t a danger that lay beneath the surface. A lie that not one of them had ever even thought possible.

‘Because she needs to know the truth,’ Julian said, trying to keep his voice level even as his hands balled into tight fists on his knees. ‘How is she supposed to protect herself –?’

‘We protect her,’ his father said simply. ‘Or do you think we’re incapable of that?’

Julian wanted to bite back, wanted to remind his father that there were still threats that they couldn’t prepare for. And yet he knew that was exactly what his father had been waiting for. An actual argument at the table would be enough to throw his motion out the window. While things were still civil, he couldn’t do it in good conscience during the family meeting. An old agreement that Julian was certain his father and uncle were beginning to regret.

His mother sighed, earning the attention of the three of them in an instant. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ she said, pinning each of them with a glare in turn. ‘We’ll return to it. Right now, we need to discuss what happens to Olivier.’

With great restraint, Julian swallowed down his argument. He forced himself to lock away the desire to share everything with Teagan because he thought forewarned was forearmed. There was still proper business to discuss, and part of him was grateful to be back on easier topics of discussion.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

Criminal Gang Story Relationships

Dione is determined to keep her little girl out of the family business for as long as she can, and she does everything in her power to keep the more criminal element of their life away from Teagan. However, when Teagan learns the truth all her little comments about the family business feel almost condescending, and Dione has no idea about the slightly sour taste they’ve left in her daughter’s mouth.

Julian hates hiding things from people he cares about and the fact their parents have yet to tell Teagan the truth is something that eats away at him. He tries to be a good brother, at least in the ways he can, but there are times when he scares Teagan a little; even more so when she learns the truth of his role in the family business. When Teagan gets dragged into things, it’s all a little too much for her, and while Julian may have wanted her to join them, he also realises that she’s not necessarily like him. While he can distance himself from some of the horrors by being worse than them, Teagan doesn’t have that. It’s something that frustrates him a little because he feels it’s a failing of preparation on the family’s side of things. He tries to comfort her with facts, with the truth of everything, but that’s not how to help her through it all, and instead it just expands the space growing between the two of them rather than repairing it as he’d hoped for.

Tom is very much on his sister-in-law’s side when it comes to keeping Teagan out of the family business, however he’s better at sensing when Teagan is snooping around for answers because he was that kid when he was younger. He tries to keep her away from things, but it doesn’t always work out so well. Balancing the kind-hearted uncle side of his personality, and the maliciousness that is required of his job begins to get difficult when there is no distinct line with Teagan any longer.

When Teagan stumbles upon her father doing his real job, fear of him spikes in her for the first time. The idea that his little girl might be scared of him is something that breaks Will’s heart, but he knows he needs to get her away and far from the scene in the hopes of protecting her even a little bit. He hadn’t wanted her to be involved in things, knowing that she was different to the others and having hoped that they could give at least one of their children an ordinary life. But, when she is, he needs to know that she’s in with them rather than willing to give them up because of her own morals.

The idea of Teagan joining the business is something that Julian butts heads with his parents about no end, and Tom. Trying to convince his father that they can’t keep her in the dark forever, and that she needs to start somewhere, is a normal start to the day in their house. That being said, Julian will acquiesce the point occasionally when his father reminds him that he’s not in charge, and how easy it would be to cut ties with him should the need arise.

Teagan and Piotr have been best friends since practically forever. One is rarely seen without the other, and he knows something is up with her as her family’s perfect little life starts unravelling around her and she tries to keep him out of it. When the truth comes out, he reassures her that she’s not like them at all, at least not in that way. She only tells him everything out of exhaustion one day, and is then terrified that he might turn his back on her because of it all.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

‘All right, Leaves?’ Tom Harcroft greeted, shifting Teagan’s attention away from the news article she’d been skimming. The arrival of a dead body was big news, but none of the papers seemed to agree on an angle. Either it was an accidental death, or an organised crime killing that nobody was actually brave enough to put an accusation behind. ‘Your dad in?’

‘Nice to see you too, Uncle Tom,’ teased Teagan, smirking as he moved to ruffle her hair. He was the only one who could get away with that without receiving a Medusa-style look, but that didn’t mean Teagan liked it; she felt the frown settling onto her face.

‘I asked how you were,’ he reasoned, a grin pulling at his own mouth. ‘You were just too slow.’

Teagan rolled her eyes, glanced briefly at the few customers dotting the front of the bookshop, and turned back to her uncle. ‘He said something about an evaluation,’ she informed Tom, but guessed he already knew that. After all, he’d arrived barely ten minutes after her father had left for his office upstairs. A text was all it took to call him, and the only thing that really got him into the family shop.

‘Thanks, Tea,’ he said cheerfully. Then, mild concern creased his brow. ‘You OK until Jules gets back?’

‘Of course,’ she assured him with a grin as she spotted Piotr passing the window. ‘My saviour’s arrived anyway.’

Tom scoffed, shook his head before heading for the office.

The bell rang, announcing the arrival of Piotr Nicoli. Teagan watched as her best friend wound his way through the aisles, as he tried not to knock over any of the new displays she’d spent the morning arranging.

‘You seen it?’ she said in lieu of a greeting, turning her phone so that he could read the article. ‘What d’you think?’

Piotr stuttered out some kind of answer, even though he could only have read the headline. But Teagan sighed and leant on the desk, motioning for him to finish before he actually said anything. She needed his opinion on all of this, because she certainly wasn’t going to get a discussion out of her family in regards to the most interesting thing to happen nearby.

[marrowwife]

- HEADS UP SEVEN UP -

Rules: Post the last seven lines you have written and tag seven people

Tagged by: @elijahrichardwrites

- LINES -

Flea strode through the London grey with her head high and her nose burning, her Praetor robes exchanged for the equally as grey trouser, vest, coat combination favoured by mundie locals. They followed a woman, through the labyrinthine maze that was the lower class residential area, who littered her speech with a fascinating array of words and phrases that Flea could only parse because of near ten years of exposure. The mundie thought she was a man. Or rather, she did not want to see that she wasn't and so she addressed them both as good sirs with barely a stutter, eyes carefully sliding away from Flea to fix firmly on her partner. Thomas Harcroft struck an imposing figure in his mundie best. He was tall even as he was stooped to catch the mundie woman's conversation, but not notably so, he wore his hair, ink black, rigidly pulled out of his face with a tie, but that was still common enough for mundane men. It was his gaze that struck people still with unease

- WIP TAG - (ask to be +/-)

@touchingmadness @dreamwolves @philocalizt @wildswrites @aeipathys

- GAME TAG - (no pressure!)

@writerfae @isherwoodj @thanatostouch @cielhelm @pinespittinink @writewithfire @thepixiediaries and anyone else who sees this and wants an open tag to give it a go