#i think the street was somewhere in Toulouse
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
liones-s · 5 months ago
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
276 notes · View notes
ofxscavengcrs · 6 months ago
Text
@mvsicinthedvrk || Toulouse & anyone
Tumblr media
.。.:*☆ "Did you just hear that?" The sound made Toulouse almost jump out of his skin. If he would still be a cat, he would for sure be clued to the wall now, all claws out and hissing. The news that people were randomly attacked on the streets really made him more than nervous.
Tumblr media
"I really think, uh.... we should go somewhere inside. It is for sure more save than just being a sitting duck here - right?"
2 notes · View notes
missygoesmeow · 2 years ago
Text
.
I’m so worried. Toulouse hasn’t come home since 9pm last night (it’s midday currently) and if he does sneak out at night he usually comes home early (like 1am) or at least by morning as he’ll want his breakfast.
I’ve called him so many times and walked around the street. I’ve shook his food.
I don’t know what to do and I don’t know where to look for him. I’m so worried I can’t eat and my head feels like it’s going to explode and I just want to cry.
I know he’s just a cat and they come back but this isn’t normal behaviour and I’m so stressed out. All I can think is that he’s lying in a ditch somewhere or someone has stolen him or he’s been hit by a car.
edit 7pm: he’s still missing. apparently someone swears they saw him at 8am this morning just sitting under a car not far from my house.
I’ve reported him missing and left my towel outside. my friends also helped me post on local groups.
I just want him to come home.
33 notes · View notes
thedemonsurfer · 10 months ago
Text
"I didn't say art that isn't worth money isn't worth doing. I'm asking why their art is worth money."
Because some rich guy said so.
Like. That's literally it.
You can contact your local museum, submit a proposal, and if you're convincing enough, have an exhibition.
Yes, you can. There's no minimum requirement of fame to have an exhibition in a gallery. There's no receipts needed to prove you're good enough. I've been thinking of getting together my grandmother's work to do just that, just because I want to show off the paintings of someone I never got to meet.
(Now, of course I'm simplifying things a little to make my point. Museums want foot traffic, it's how they keep the lights on, so they want to host a show that they think will draw in foot traffic, and it helps if you're already a little known. There's out of pocket expenses and lots of work involved. However, there are still ways to get your foot in the door, like submitting to amateur shows or local contests.)
And like, @bulldyke-rider, I get it! Why IS their art worth money? What makes their splats on a canvas more valuable than 99 other splats? What makes Banksy valuable but a street artist with arguably more talent a criminal?
Some rich guy said so. Fucking sucks.
It's a harsh reality that the people with the money, who decide if you're 'good', have very little interest in your art as art. They see it as an investment and nothing more. So many artworks are just sealed up in rooms somewhere because they were bought just to insure and then sit on until the value goes up.
Remember how NFTs were said to be 'worth' millions of dollars because that's what they were listed for? Nothing is 'worth' its asking price unless someone pays it. A rich person paid a number with a lot of zeros for this artist's work, so that artist must be valuable.
Van Gogh died penniless and unknown. His works weren't valued until years after his death. Toulouse-Lautrec struggled to find an audience for anything but his playbills. Very few artists make any money right out of the gate, and those that do started with a leg up over the competition.
So no, your name isn't worth anything in the Big Art world. Neither is mine. Neither is that of most artists. And they probably will never be worth anything more than a few dimes at most.
Might as well make art for fun, then.
When people look at abstract art and go "uh I could make that"
Fuck, I wish you would!
I wish you would let this inspire you. I wish that seeing a piece of abstract art would move you to self expression.
I wish you would go to the craft store, buy a cheap canvas and some cheap paint and let yourself play with color and form just to see if you can.
I wish that there were more amateur painters, trying their hand at geometric abstraction and color field painting. That would be so fucking cool.
"I could make that" should be a joyous revelation, not a snarky dismissal.
You could make that? Holy shit. please. Please make that.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jack Bush
Kenneth Noland
Piet Mondraine
Pat Lipsky
Joan Mitchell
Helen Frankenthaler
Kikuo Saito
Marilyn Kirsch
Mark Rothko
Adolph Gottlieb
31K notes · View notes
ladyhindsight · 3 years ago
Note
Go for it! You are good writer from what I can see. You use logic and think about what would characters realistically do - in comparison with Clare, who doesn't. I think the core of Clare's problem is lack of ability to draw logical connection between events and characters. I hope my rambling don't bother you much. I think you would do much better job with SH world.
Clare problems probably stems from the fact TMI used to be fanfiction. She created some scenes she wants to include no matter if it actually make sense for the characters to do it. She created characters and story separatelly. Which mean her characters are illogical, because their personaities and values frequently don't align with their actions. Sadly, Clare's entire world is builded wrong and she make it worse and worse with more nonsense she come with every time, she write something new.
Alicante never stop to bother me. She wrote it's city located in valley between two mountains and there is river with canals. If the city is in valley, then the river is running in the middle of the valley - in the lowest point. Then how are there canals in streets of entire city? Water in canals must flow uphill for it to be possible. My headcanon is Alicante having complex mechanism of rune-powered pumps and waterwheels to get the water uphill. Fresh water travel uphill and then waste water flowing back down. Alicante is described as looking alike to San Gimignano by Clare. Which means it had to be build soon after founding of nephilim race. San Gimignano's architecture is unique mix of romanesque and gothic. Transition from romanesque to gothical period happened in 12th century.
Clare also lacks any creativity in worldbuilding. She failed at creating diverse shadowhunter culture as she failed on werewolf or vampire culture too. She tried with faeries, but it's working only because she based it entirely on irish myths.
The founding of nephilim race also doesn't make much sense. Jonathan, David, Abigail aren't common names of the time period. Jonathan and David supposed to be crusaders in 11th century. Which mean they had to participate in 1st crusade. Probably nobles. Clare didn't even look at map of first crusade, because then she would realize Idris can't be between France, Germany and Switzerland. It can be between Italy, France and Switzerland, if Jonathan traveled with Raymond IV. Count of Toulouse.
Tumblr media
Another question is how could shadowhunters have one central government, before Henry Branwell and Magnus invented portal? In TID Idris is treated as universal home of shadowhunters and Clave, but how it can be central of government when people outside Europe can't travel there in timely manner? How did chinese or african shadowhunters vote as clave members when travelling to Alicante took months? I don't remember Clare ever discussed this problem? You read book recently, were this problem discussed somewhere in TID?
Clave pre-portal invention had to be separated to different factions around world. I remember it's written Charlotte had some problems with factions in Clave? I like to believe it's problems which stems from her effort to unite all the factions to one goverment body. Other fascination historical question is when and why shadowhunters departed from catholoc church. Because I'm sure the first shadowhunters were part of church (Jonathan and David were crusaders) and it was benefical for them to work under church who would finance them. Shadowhunters and their separation from religion is fascinating concept to explore.
I’m not bothered at all, no worries. And again, thank you, that’s really awesome you think so highly of me.
Tumblr media
I totally agree. People have criticized that Clare’s writing is similar to fanfiction as we in general understand fanfiction. Even the newer writings like Born to Endless Night and Queen of Air and Darkness have faced this notion. The way Clare writes her characters, how she introduces them, it’s on the basis similar to that of fanfiction—that we know the characters already and like them and that’s why we are reading this book. In reality, she puts very little effort into making each character their own person instead of a combination of different hair and eye colors.
I love how detailed your knowledge is on the workings of canals. I didn’t actually even realize to think about that at all. And well, neither did Clare, I guess. There’s a lot missing in Alicante. It’s just a place, it has no particular character. It’s just a combination of streets and town squares that are all rather vague. Also Alicante is supposed to be a city, so saying it looks like Sam Gimignano—which it completely can—draws a connection between the two, and since Sam Gimignano is a small town and looks like a small town, it becomes harder to imagine Alicante as larger and bigger city.
There was some discussion about the names, so I’ll link them [here] and [here]. If I remember correctly, it was Raziel who then created Idris after giving Jonathan the Mortal Instruments and chose the place for it, and I think it could be explained basically by *magic*, since no mundane is able to access it through its borders.
That point about portals is seriously great. How did the Nephilim spread out all over the world in the first place? How did they keep in contact to keep the operation organized? I checked the wiki and Clare has apparently said that fire-messages were invented at some point in the 20th century, and Last Hours will touch on the subject. If I remember right, I don’t think traveling to Idris was presented a problem, but it wasn’t explained how they did it so I assumed by any means any mundane at the time would’ve. Ships, trains, carriages, the sort.
I’ve read only two chapters of Chain of Gold, so I don’t know whether there’s more explanations on what these different factions could be. Since there isn’t presented any probable means of effective communication, you’d think that Shadowhunters were more divided and wouldn’t know basically every Shadowhunter family that exists. There’s very little ties to actual history even though the whole concept of the Nephilim stems from it. It feels like Clare wanted to separate Nephilim completely from the crusaders and have their own purpose, but the way she did it makes it seem like the instant that Jonathan became the first Nephilim, he abandoned the crusade and went on turning people into Shadowhunters and killing demons.
There’s just too big of a leap there between the events, and Clare left all that unexplored. I don’t think it is necessarily a main story stuff, but this could’ve been elaborated on in the Codex so at least it’d seem that this was thoroughly thought-out. It’s just weird the whole thing the series has with any religion and is probably the very fundamental thing that makes no sense given how they are then utilized in the story.
15 notes · View notes
labyrinth-runner · 4 years ago
Text
All You Need Is Love
Chapter 10 of The Greatest Thing
Christian x OC 
Moulin Rouge Fanfic
Read the rest here
Tumblr media
As the days drew on, Estelle spent more and more time with Poppy, learning the ways of the courtesan. At first, Poppy was hesitant to teach her any more than just suggestive speaking, but Estelle was her friend and she didn't want her to lose the man she loved to someone because they had more experience with certain things than she did. Watching Estelle's confidence grow as they went on was perhaps what Poppy was most proud of, not that Estelle had ever been timid, but that she finally understood her full worth on her own and knew how to carry herself in a way that showed that. Their goodbye the night before Estelle left for Paris had been tearful, but Estelle had promised to write and tell her all about the Moulin Rouge and how Poppy was so much better than any of the women there. The next morning, however, saying goodbye to Mary had proved to be a bit harder than Estelle had anticipated.
"I can't believe you're leaving to travel for months," Mary had pouted as she sat on Estelle's bed while she finished some last-minute packing.
"You know precisely where I'm going and why I'm going there," Estelle replied.
"Yes, but, what are you going to do once you find him? What if he's with someone else? Oh, Elle, I don't want your heart to get broken and for you not to have your sister there to pick up the pieces," Mary sighed.
"I'll be fine. I may not have the best sister in the world with me, but I'll have Annalise," Estelle chuckled.
"What will you do if you stay in Paris?" Mary asked softly. "With him?"
"Annalise and I already have a plan worked out should I decide to stay," she replied.
"You'll have to let me know. I know father cannot know, but I wish to know should you stay there," Mary pleaded.
"Alright. If I stay... I'll write something cryptic in your letter. Something that you would know, but father would not should he read it," Estelle said thoughtfully.
"What would you say?"
"Something poetic and meaningful," she murmured. "I've got it! If I stay, I'll tell you: 'The lights in the city are so bright that they light up the night, vanquishing the dark.'"
Mary chuckled. "It's certainly poetic."
Estelle had a small wistful smile on her face as she sat on the bed next to her sister, "It certainly would be true."
"I'll miss you," Mary sighed, resting her head on her older sister's shoulder.
"And I'll miss you. If it weren't for you, this house would be unbearable," she admitted, wrapping an arm around Mary's shoulder.
A knock sounded at the door and their butler looked in. "Miss, the carriage has arrived."
"Thank you," Estelle smiled, picking up the last of her luggage to head downstairs. She paused next to the butler for a moment, "Take care of them for me while I'm gone, please."
"Of course, Miss. Like my life depends on it," the butler said with an affectionate nod.
Estelle made her way down the stairs to place her final bags in the foyer for the carriage boy to load. Then, she hesitantly made her way over to the cracked door to the library. She heard the muffled voice of her father talking, and when she peaked in, she saw that it was to the painting of her mother.
"Keep her safe, Maggie," he murmured.
Estelle had a sad smile on her face as she knocked on the door. Her father immediately straightened.
"Come in," he stated.
Estelle walked into the room. "The carriage is here, father. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."
"Yes, well," he said, turning to look at her where she stood a few steps in the room. His eyes scanned his daughter in her dark blue traveling dress with a black jacket and a matching hat and parasol. She looked so much like her mother did at her age that if he didn't know any better, he would think that he had traveled back in time. "You will write, won't you?"
"Of course, Father," Estelle smiled. "I would be a fool not to keep my family apprised of my adventures."
"I'm sure your sister would be disappointed if you didn't. She does live vicariously through you," he mused.
Estelle was taken aback by his demeanor. For a moment, he seemed like his old self again. He didn't look at her with sorrow, but he was looking at her with regret.
"Father, are you well?" she ventured.
"Of course, child. I am just pensive this morning," he replied.
"Father, you needn't worry about me. I'll have Annalise. We'll be perfectly fine," she reassured him.
"Oh, I'm not worried about that, Estelle," he said with a small smile. It was true, he wasn't worried about her traveling. Deep down, he was worried that she'd never return home after seeing the world, having found somewhere special and then finding London lacking in comparison. "Now, your carriage has arrived, has it not? You should go. You don't want to miss your ship."
Estelle hesitated for a moment, deciding on what to do. However, sentiment won in her mind and she went and hugged her father. "Goodbye."
After a moment, he rested his hand on her back. "Do not cause any scandal."
Estelle shook her head as she pulled back. Her father gave her one last nod of acknowledgement and she left.
The trip to Paris had been fairly uneventful, with the exception of Annalise suffering from motion sickness on the boat. The rocking of the waves lulled Estelle to sleep in comparison, but only until Annalise found herself feeling sick once more and needed someone to hold her hair. Their first day in Paris had been slow. Annalise had to meet with some of her father's friends as they owned the flat that her father had rented out for them for the week. Estelle played along, truly grateful, but she was chomping at the bit to get out and into Montmartre to the address that William had given her. She wanted to know what kind of place Christian had been living in. She wanted to see the people he interacted with, but most of all, she wanted to see him. She needed to know that he was okay, although somewhere in a place inside her that she kept hidden, she selfishly wanted to know if he missed her as much as she missed him.
After their obligatory lunch date, Estelle gave Annalise a pleading look.
"Fine. I'll handle tea with Father's former mistress myself. I always did like Cecile best. She at least had the decency to give me a gift whenever she saw me," Annalise said, rolling her eyes.
"Anna, you're the best," Estelle grinned.
"I know," Annalise winked. "Now, get out of here."
Estelle did just that, making her way out into the street. She found a carriage, giving them the address and soon enough she found herself outside of a slightly shabby building.
"He's living here?" she murmured to herself. Hastily, she made her way into the building, going up to the apartment indicated on the address. She knocked on the door multiple times, but heard no response.
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but, are you looking for someone?" a short man asked as he and another, taller, man came down the stairs.
"My friend," she replied, turning to look at him. "According to the address on this letter, he lives here."
The smaller man's eyes widened as he elbowed the other man in the thigh, but the other man had fallen asleep on his feet.
"Is everything alright?"
"I do apologize, but are you Mademoiselle Devereux from London?" the short man asked.
"I am... I beg your pardon, but have we met?" Estelle asked in confusion.
"Non! My name is Toulouse. I am a friend of your friend. You're just... precisely how he described," Toulouse murmured.
"You know Christian?" she asked excitedly. "Would you know where I might find him?"
"He's at the Moulin Rouge rehearsing," Toulouse replied, "We are going there now. Would you like to accompany us?"
"That would be lovely, thank you," she smiled, but then she looked at the taller man, "Although, I do believe he is asleep."
Toulouse sighed. "That's Santiago. He does that."
Estelle nodded, following them to a magnificent building with a windmill atop it. Her eyes widened in awe.
"It is quite a sight the first time," Toulouse smiled.
"It is," she murmured.
Inside however, was not an amazing sight. As Toulouse and Santiago went forward into the rehearsal space, she stayed a few paces behind, watching them from behind a pillar. Her eyes softened as she spotted Christian laughing, but then she noticed the other woman sitting in his lap. She was beautiful, with red hair and bright red lips. Her outfit had significantly fewer layers than Estelle's. Estelle felt her heart drop. Had she been replaced? She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to leave. She pushed her way back through the double doors and into the courtyard for air. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Perhaps she should never have come. Perhaps she should have just-
"Ellie?" a voice called out.
Estelle looked up, locking eyes with him.
"Christian," she said softly.
They stood in silence gazing at each other for a moment as if neither believed that the other was truly standing before them. The world had slowed, letting them hear their heartbeats in their ears until it sped back up again and they were rushing into each other's arms to hold each other tight.
"I don't understand," Christian said, pulling back, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm on holiday with Annalise," she replied. She didn't want to tell him that she had come here for him, not when he was clearly with another woman.
"How long are you here for?" he asked softly.
"A few days," she replied.
"Come, let me introduce you to everyone," Christian grinned, taking her by the hand and leading her back into the building.
"A-are you sure?" Estelle stammered.
"Of course. It'll be nice for them to put a face to the name."
Estelle blushed. A face to the name. He talked about her?
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Ms. Devereux. She's my friend from London," he grinned.
The red-haired woman's eyes alighted at this new information. "So you are the infamous Ellie."
"I wouldn't say infamous..." Estelle trailed off. She couldn't tell if the woman was kind, or if there was a hint of jealousy in her eyes, but the air between the two of them and Christian felt charged. Estelle was worried that she had disrupted something by being here.
Christian introduced everyone to Estelle and she learned the woman's name was Satine. Then, they had to get back to rehearsal.
"Christian, have you finished that scene yet?" Satine asked.
"No. I'm still working on the seduction scene," he sighed.
"Perhaps I can help you after," Satine winked.
"T-that's quite alright," Christian stammered.
Estelle looked away. "I should head back."
"Let me walk you out!" Christian replied.
The walk out of the building was silent, but once they were outside, he sighed.
"She's just a friend," he said.
"It's alright. After all, I'm just a friend, too," Estelle said with a sad smile.
Christian ached to correct her, but this wasn't the time, nor the place. "When can I see you again?"
"Annalise and I have things planned the next two days. Then, we have a fairly open day in case anything of interest came to our attention. The following day we leave," she explained.
"Then... I should like to take you out on that day. There's a lovely café that I think you'd enjoy," he smiled.
"Alright," she replied. She gave him the address of her flat and sighed. "I'm glad to see you doing well."
"And I am glad to see you," he said pointedly, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I'll see you soon."
Estelle nodded and got into her carriage to return to the flat.
When she got back, she found Annalise waiting for her with a piping hot pot of tea.
"Well?"
"He's at the Moulin Rouge, writing a play. I think... I think he might have found someone," she said with some difficulty.
"Nonsense. If she's from the Moulin than he's either paying her, or she's scamming him," Annalise said dismissively.
"You didn't see the way they were," Estelle sighed. "There's definitely more to it than that."
"Are you going to see him again?" Annalise asked.
"On our open day," she replied.
"Good. Well, we have dinner reservations. You may wish to get changed," Annalise sighed.
Estelle nodded and went about it, but her mind was still on Christian.
In fact, her mind didn't leave Christian the next few days. The more she thought about him, the more she wondered if she would actually be able to leave him again. However, then she thought of Satine and figured that he may be just fine if she did.
When the day finally arrived to see him again, she was a bundle of nerves. Questions swirled in her head about whether she had been foolish to think that they would be reunited and pick up where they left off in London or if she had been right and he did miss her. As they walked in silence with her hand on his arm, she felt as though she were suffocating in the confines of her own mind, and oh how dark a place it had become there. She didn't think that even the city of lights could illuminate her darkness.
"Darling, you've been awfully quiet," Christian murmured as they sat at the table in the café.
"I just have a lot on my mind," she replied with a small smile. "But, enough about me. How have you been?"
Christian gave her a look of concern, "Well, I've found some friends who are very supportive of my work. They're not at all like the fuddy duddies of London society that we had to interact with for the season. I've been working on something new. You saw some of the play rehearsal, actually, but I've honestly been stuck."
"Stuck?" Estelle asked, leaning forward. "That's not like you at all. Back in London you seemed to go on about anything that interested you without trouble."
"I know. I'm writing this play about a penniless sitar player who falls in love with someone well above his station, but I'm having some difficulties with it," he sighed.
"You're having a hard time writing about love?" she asked incredulously.
"I know. It's hard, though, especially when my muse has been in London," he said softly.
She blushed. "I'm sure there's some courtesans who would know more about seduction that I will ever know."
"There's a difference between just seducing a woman's body and seducing a heart. You've always been good at both, if I may be so bold," he blushed.
"Then, I shall help. After all, what kind of muse would I be if I didn't?" Estelle replied with a wink. Her fears about Satine drifted away. She felt like they were back in London again.
"I would love that."
"Well, would it be instant attraction?" she asked in amusement.
"Yes, darling, I suppose it would," he smiled. "Although he has followed her career for quite some time, but when he first lays eyes on her... oh, the world stops."
"But, she's a courtesan, and he's a penniless sitar player. I think he would have to seduce her a bit in order to have her even look at him twice," she replied with a small smirk as she took a sip of tea.
"S-seduce her how?" he asked. His tea cup trembled slightly as he put it on the saucer.
"You're the writer, you tell me," she replied, crossing her legs, a trick she had learned from Poppy. Her skirts slipped up a bit and exposed her ankles, causing him to blush harder. She knew he'd been spending a lot of time at the Moulin Rouge, and she could see the appeal, after all, he was a man. However, the fact that her childhood friend was still flustered showed that he really hadn't changed much since she last saw him in London all those months ago.
His eyes traced over Estelle's face as if trying to decipher her. She'd grown since she'd last seen him at the start of the season in London. Back then, he'd been just as much of a dreamer as he was now. However, that was one of the things she loved most about him. He was a dreamer. He didn't see life just as it was, but how it could be. Talking to him made her want to believe that anything was possible… that she could find a match that was made in love as well as good standing. When he left, it was like there was a void in the London scene, and in her heart that she could never fill. Sure she'd had marriage proposals, but they weren't from the man she'd wanted the most. In this moment, watching him study her, she realized that she wasn't content to just let him slip away again, not when talking to him made her feel so free. Part of her, though, was still upset with the way he'd left things. It was apparent in her eyes. The passion within them burned, keeping him in place with the heat of her gaze as she challenged him to acknowledge it and the hurt that he'd caused by leaving.
After a moment of silence, he spoke. "You're mad at me."
Estelle blushed and looked down. "Nonsense. Why would I be mad? I'm not your keeper."
"I should have said goodbye," he sighed. "I owed you that much. I owe you so much more. That night, my father and I had a fight and I just left. I didn't think anyone would care that the hopeless dreamer had left. I'd been there for multiple seasons at that point, and everyone's father was telling them to steer clear of me."
"I cared," she said quietly before taking another sip of tea.
"You were the only one that ever did," he said with a small smile. "Which was why I couldn't say goodbye. If I had, I would never have been able to leave."
"You hurt me," she admitted. "I worried that it was something that I'd done."
"No," he said emphatically, taking her hand in his. "Ellie, you were the one good thing about London."
"One person isn't enough of a reason to stay in a place where you are ultimately unhappy," she said with a sigh.
"Not if you love that person. Love is a many splendored thing," he smiled. "Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love."
Estelle chanced a look around the small Parisian café that he had chosen to meet in. It was more colorful than the one's they had frequented back in London, but somehow seeing him here… this felt correct. In a way, she'd always felt like he was out of place in London when compared to everyone else. The colors back then were muted and his personality shone like the sun in comparison. But here? Here she felt like he belonged. He still stood out, as only someone like him could, but he also was a fixture, a focal point in a painting. The eye was drawn to it, but it wasn't out of place. Love may lift one up where they belong, but she loved him enough to want him to be in a place where he already felt at home.
"Annalise will be looking for me soon," she replied with a sigh, gathering up her parasol and purse.
"Will I see you again?" he asked hopefully.
Estelle paused to take him in. "Would you want to? I thought you wanted to cut ties with all the… oh, what did you call them… 'fuddy duddies' of London society?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Darling, I could never call you that. You were always so much more than our peers," he replied, getting up to walk her back to the flat.
"I'd love to see you again," she smiled as they made their way through town, parasol shielding her from the sun. It felt just like old times, and she was not about to let him walk out of her life again. She chewed her lip in thought, choosing her words carefully. She felt like Christian had missed her, but she couldn't help but worry that she may be wrong. "Perhaps I could convince my companion to continue on without me on our holiday. I've found Paris to be a bit too lovely to leave."
"You'd stay?" he asked in amazement as they came to a stop outside her building. "But, how would you pay for your flat?"
She turned to him with a small smile, "I was hoping that perhaps I could stay with a friend?"
He flushed at the suggestion. If she were anywhere else, with anyone else, they'd remind her immediately that that wasn't proper. Estelle could even see it in his eyes that he was warring with himself on whether or not to say it now, but to do so would be to say he still cared about the rules he'd left behind in London.
"Are you sure you'd want to stay with a friend in Paris when your best friend is traveling on?" he asked tentatively.
"Of course. I'm sure I could help my friend with his writing," she winked.
He was speechless, something that she'd seen rarely. It made her heart ache. Surely her affections weren't one-sided. No, this was the right choice. She knew it in her heart.
"I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said softly, taking her gloved hand in his and placing a quick kiss across her knuckles.
"Good night, Christian," she replied with a slight blush as she entered the building, leaving him on the front step. Estelle picked up her skirts and made it up the stairs to covertly watch him from the window that overlooked the street. She stifled a chuckle as she watched him stand on the steps dumbstruck for a moment before breaking out in a smile. He turned to walk down the street, jumping and clicking his heels together mid-air happily before continuing on his way.
"How'd it go?" asked a voice from the next room over.
She walked in to find Annalise in her corset and changing into her dinner attire.
"It went well, but I have to talk to you about something," Estelle sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Annalise had a small smile on her face as she pinned up her golden hair. "You want to stay."
"How did you-"
"You're my best friend. I know he's the reason you turned down everyone else, and I know he's the reason you would never be happy with anyone else," she replied, looking at Estelle in the mirror. She placed her hands in her lap as she turned to face her friend. "How am I going to cover for you?"
Estelle smiled. Annalise was a schemer. "Well, I figured I could send you the letters for you to send to my family. That way, they'll think I'm with you."
She nodded, "Alright. That's one problem taken care of. Now, how will you pay for the flat? It'll be expensive on top of anything else you might need."
Instinctively, her nose scrunched up as she prepared to break the news to her. "I'll stay with Christian."
"I cannot allow my best friend to stay in some hovel," she sighed.
"It won't be a hovel," Estelle replied, "If Christian is there, then it's home."
She chuckled and shook her head at Estelle. "The two of you are a match made in heaven, that's for sure."
"Does that mean you'll go along with it?"
"If this is what you truly want. Just… include a letter to me along with your reports to your parents so that I may keep track of you," she replied, coming over to take Estelle's hands in hers. "And, if he even dares to break your heart again… I will break him."
With a chuckle, Estelle patted her hand on top of her's. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Annalise. I couldn't ask for a better friend."
"That's true," she winked, getting up to finish getting dressed. "Now, get changed. We have a standing reservation for dinner and then we're going to the opera."
With a happy sigh, Estelle pushed up off the bed and went to her room to get dressed. She was determined to make the most of her last night with her friend, but she was also excited to see what tomorrow would bring. Part of her felt like a Bohemian, turning away from everything she knew and living unchaperoned with a man. She wasn't as innocent as she once was, thanks to Poppy, but few people knew that Estelle knew about those kinds of things. Poppy had taught her many things about men, and she wondered how Christian would react to them. Then again, considering his current company, he may not even be shocked.
The rest of the night was spent with Annalise on the town. When they came back to the flat and were going to go their separate ways, Annalise stopped her.
"Stay with me tonight? Like when we were girls," she smiled.
"Just let me get changed," Estelle replied, disappearing into her room.
She emerged a bit later in her nightgown with her hair flowing around her shoulders.
The two of them laid next to each other, staring up at the canopy of the bed.
"Are you nervous?" Annalise asked, looking at Estelle out of the corner of her eyes.
She let out a sigh at her question. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."
"About living with Christian?" she asked.
After a beat of thinking, Estelle answered. "It's not quite that. I trust Christian. I'm more nervous about living with just him to rely on. What if… what if our relationship doesn't grow? Then I'm stuck here."
"You wouldn't be stuck," she reassured, turning to face her friend. "You'd never be stuck. I'd rescue you if you ever needed it."
"I appreciate that," Estelle said with a small smile. "Now, we should sleep. You have a long day of traveling tomorrow."
Annalise yawned in agreement and turned the other way to sleep. However, Estelle stayed up a little bit longer, looking up at the canopy, worrying whether or not this was the right choice. However, in her heart she knew it was. After all, the life here with Christian may not be what she was used to in London, but all she needed was love, and she felt as though Christian could give that to her. With that thought, her worries were gone and sleep claimed her.
The morning was a blur of packing and saying goodbye to Annalise. It wasn't long before Christian showed up after she left.
"Good morning, darling," he beamed as he picked up her luggage and placed it on the carriage she'd rented. He offered Estelle his hand to help her into the buggy, crawling in after she'd settled herself into the seat.
"I must warn you," he started nervously.
"Christian, you're an artist. I'm not expecting the Taj Mahal. A house is only a house. What makes it a home are the people inside," she replied pointedly.
He blushed. "Right. Of course, darling."
The carriage pulled up outside his building and he picked up her things. Not wanting to watch him struggle, she helped him by carrying some of her lighter suitcases. She had told him that she wasn't expecting much, but that still didn't prepare her for the apartment with a massive hole in the ceiling. Vaguely, she remembered his friends telling her they fell into Christian's life on the walk to the Moulin the other day. When she saw those same faces popping through the hole in the ceiling now, she realized they had meant it quite literally.
"Christian! You didn't say you'd be bringing home a woman," Toulouse smiled.
"Hello, Toulouse," Christian said, blushing awkwardly. "You remember my friend, right?"
"Oh, yes. She is hard to forget."
Estelle cleared her throat as she set about unpacking her things into the room.
"Toulouse, if you don't mind, would you talk to the land lord about fixing the hole in your floor? Now that there's a lady here, I'd like to give her some privacy."
"Of course!" Toulouse replied before disappearing back up into his own apartment.
"Sorry about that," Christian said sheepishly.
"No need to apologize. Your friends are sweet," Estelle smiled. Then, she turned to spot the portrait on the wall. "Christian... is that...?"
Christian blushed. "Yes, well, I was missing you terribly and Toulouse painted that for me to cheer me up."
"It's beautiful," she murmured, reaching up to straighten it on the fireplace.
"You are," Christian replied before sitting at his desk to write on his typewriter.
Eventually, she pulled up a chair and sat next to him.
"What scene are you working on?" she asked curiously.
"The one we were discussing the other day in the café."
"Oh, the seduction scene! Well, how does he end up seducing her?"
"I…well… I'm still working that out. That's why we've been going to the Moulin Rouge so much outside of rehearsals, but it hasn't helped inspire me in any way."
Part of her had to be happy at that. She was sure that Satine would have been a great help with this, but since she wasn't, Estelle figured she could implement some of the things she'd learned from Poppy.
"Well… you've always had a way with words. Why not have him make suggestive comments?" she suggested, a small smile toying at her lips.
"Like what?" he asked, turning to her.
She bit her lip, debating on whether or not to push her luck. Gently leaning forward so that her lips were inches from his ear, she whispered, "Well, he could speak softly into her ear."
He stiffened before shivering slightly at her actions. With satisfaction, she watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, "A-and, what things would he say?"
"Things like… sometimes at night I dream about what it would be like to have you underneath me as my hands slide up your chest," she murmured in his ear.
"I-is that so?" he stammered, blushing furiously.
Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his thigh. "He touches her thigh, slowly sliding it up as he tells her how much he wishes there weren't any fabric in the way."
His eyes nervously flicked to her's. This was a side to her that he'd never seen before, and quite frankly it scared him. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but rather that he wasn't used to it. She was so bold and confident. Her eyes looked like they would devour him on the spot, which made a flicker of a thought flash in the back of his head. Clearly someone would have had to teach her this in order for her to replicate it. Had someone else had her before he could? Yet, he couldn't talk since he hadn't been chaste either. There had been one drunken night that- He banished the thought away as he looked down, seeing himself start to tent in his pants and reluctantly he stayed her hand.
She took his chin in between her thumb and forefinger, turning his head towards her so she could search his eyes. "What is it?"
"He's supposed to be trying to seduce her," he said quietly, "Because he knows that she's used to being the one working for affections."
"He came from far away to see her for himself," she replied softly. "When his eyes fell on hers, it was love at first sight. He vowed he'd never let her go. He wants her."
His eyes bore into hers. "She wants him, but she doesn't think she has the right to love him after everything she has done."
"Everyone has the right to love," Estelle murmured, sliding closer to him. "He wants to undo her clothes and let them fall to the floor. He knows its a sight others have seen before, but it will be his first time, and that's all that matters to him. Especially since he didn't need to pay for it."
"She showed him willingly," he replied, cupping her face. "Because he saw her soul first."
"He wants to kiss every inch of exposed flesh and worship her," she added, "Nothing is too good for her in his eyes. He wants to use his hands and lips to memorize her skin, to show her how much he cares."
They had gotten so close in their word exchange. Her eyes were wide as they gazed up into his.
"What are some of the things he says?" Christian asked innocently.
"I know you're used to things being rough, but I want this to be loving. I want to kiss every inch of you, leaving little marks where only we'll know where they are, so that when you see them, you'll know you belong to me. I want to show you the stars that hide behind your eyes," she said intently.
Christian's eyes widened, feeling his pants unbearably tight. Estelle was just talking about the play, wasn't she?
"A-anything else?" he asked breathily.
"I want to make love to you until my name falls from your lips over and over again like a nun praying the rosary. Like it's reverent to you and sacred, because you are sacred to me and I'll worship you like the celestial presence on Earth that you are," she continued.
His heart was hammering in his chest. Her words were beautiful, but somehow he knew she wasn't talking about the play. She hadn't been since she sat down. Although, she was wrong about one thing. He was the penniless sitar player, and she was the woman who was out of his depths now, and he had done this to them. He wanted her so badly, his breath hitching in his throat as she opened her mouth to speak again. He knew he couldn't take another round of whatever she was going to say and instead he kissed her. It was a desperate kiss to shut her up, but she kept trying to talk, so he kept swallowing her words with his mouth until Estelle gave up. She slid herself across to sit in his lap, unable to straddle him like she wished due to the restrictions of her skirt. Christian let out a groan as she sat on his lap, reflexively wrapping his arms around her.
Panting for air, Estelle pulled back and rested her forehead against his.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she gasped as her breaths mingled with his.
"I should never have left you," he replied.
"No, this was the right decision for you," she said pointedly.
"But, I lost this. I could have had this so much sooner," he sighed."We both could have been happy in London. I could have belonged to you and been happy."
"At the cost of the freedom to be who you truly are, Christian. That is true happiness. I could never have allowed you to give up on that. I could never ask that of you. You're a dreamer, and I love that about you. I love that you challenge me to dream of a better life, of a better world. I love that you're trying to create that world with your art," she replied frantically.
His eyes snapped up to her's, blue like the sky. "You do?"
"I do, because I believe in it. I believe in all this," she replied, gesturing to the room around her. "Freedom, beauty, truth…" she trailed off to look at him, smoothing her thumb across his cheek as she softly added, "Love."
"The greatest of these is love," he replied with a small smile.
"I love you," she replied softly.
"I love you, too, Ellie," he grinned before kissing her softly. "More than anything."
Estelle sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I have to ask, though. What is Satine to you?"
Christian looked down in shame. "In truth, she's just a friend."
Estelle chewed her lip, dreading the answer to her next question, "Have you slept with her?"
"Once. We were working on lines and we were both very drunk," he replied. "It... it didn't go well."
"How did it not go well?" she chuckled.
"Well, I kept calling her 'Ellie'," he admitted.
Estelle sat up straight, "Oh?"
"And what about you? How did you learn all of... that?" he asked.
Estelle looked down, "I may have befriended a lady of the night on Grub Street?"
Christian chuckled. "Why?"
"I thought that was the kind of woman you wanted. Especially since you ended up here," she replied like it was obvious.
"Ellie, you're the kind of woman I want. I was just too dumb in London and didn't know how to admit it when I had everything to offer, and now I have nothing to offer but the truth," he said emphatically.
"That's not true," Estelle said softly. "You have love to offer. All I need is love."
6 notes · View notes
imjustthemechanic · 5 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Glockenspiel
Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly Part 4/? - The Future Part 5/? - Too Late Part 6/? - The Mystery of the Missing Time Machine Part 7/? - Underway Part 8/? - The Sierra Bunker Part 9/? - Cross-Country Part 10/? - The Pit Part 11/? - Calls for Help Part 12/? - Campout and Reunion Part 13/? - Apocalypse Bunker Part 14/? - Terrible Truths Part 15/? - Library Crystals
Peggy’s first reaction was to roll her eyes – of course Howard assumed a ‘civilian contractor’ was himself.  He did have a point, though.  Stark Industries was the company the SSR went to, again and again, because Howard built things nobody else could… and because Peggy trusted him.  The odds, on reflection, were pretty good.
“HYDRA obviously got most of the crystals back,” she observed, “because there were boxes and boxes of them in that bunker.” Not to mention the ones the supposed electricians had been using in London.  “I suppose we didn’t let you keep all of them.  Look up library crystals.”
Howard did, and came up with more corrupted documents. Somebody had wanted to remove every trace of the machine and its workings, and had very nearly succeeded. They had to hope Howard’s hunch was correct, because it was all they currently had.
They headed back to the hotel, since Toulouse would have to return there to pick up her luggage, but rather than waiting out front they sat down on a bench near the back hallway, where the entrance to the bunker was.  Toulouse would hopefully look for them there.  While they waited, Howard put some more thought into possibly locations for the library crystals.
“To extract the information from them I would have needed my own matter duplicator, or some other device,” he said.  “If I didn’t want anybody finding that, I would have destroyed it, but if the crystals themselves still belonged to the SSR I would have hung on to them.  You guys might have wanted them back someday.”
“Very wise,” said Peggy.  “Where would you have put them?”
“It would have depended on where I was living at the time,” Howard said.  “If I were still in Malibu, I bought some land on the point that I was thinking of building a house on, but the engineers told me there were caves in the rock and it wasn’t stable.  I could have hidden something there.  Or if I were in New York, I’d probably put it in the Mansion vault.”
“Because we both know that’s impregnable,” Peggy remarked.
“I’ve been fortifying it,” Howard informed her.
Well over three hours passed between them parting ways with Toulouse and someone coming to find them again, and when someone did, it was Kevin.  “Sorry we took so long,” he said, “we tried to text you, but then we remembered you lost your phones. We figured you’d be in the hotel somewhere but we didn’t want to draw attention to you while Cass was still here, and Toulouse doesn’t want to come back in anyway.”
“That’s quite all right,” said Peggy.  “How did it go?”  She hoped the meal hadn’t ended in disaster.
Kevin grimaced and held up a hand, tilting it back and forth.  Peggy had not seen the gesture before but it suggested a foundering ship – which already told her what the answer might be.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
They followed Kevin back out to the front of the hotel, where they found Toulouse sitting in the front seat of a car, in tears. Kevin got in the driver’s seat and Peggy and Howard climbed in the back, and then an awkward few moments went by in which the only sounds were the air conditioning and Toulouse’s sniffles.
“So what happened?” asked Peggy.  How had the situation just gotten worse?
“Nothing,” whimpered Toulouse.
“It actually wasn’t that bad,” said Kevin.  “Mostly I just talked about my work until Cass nearly fell asleep.  He’s probably gone to tell his father Toulouse is marrying the most boring pond scum scientist in the world.”
“Then why…” Peggy began.
“I’m stressed!” Toulouse wailed.  “The whole time I didn’t know whether Cass knows about the bunker and the stuff that’s in it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it!  Does he know it’s there?  Did he put it there?  He likes Klimt for some reason and he’s got like four Klimts down there so maybe he did!  But I had to keep smiling and pretending I was interested in what Kevin was saying… you’re not boring,” she added, to Kevin, wiping her nose.  “I was distracted.”
“It’s okay,” Kevin sighed.  “Pond scum is an acquired taste.”
“So now it’s all done I’m just venting,” Toulouse added, and hiccupped.  “You can only bottle things up for so long, you know?  Then they have to come out, and this is how mine come out.  Oh, god, I need a shower and I need to fix my makeup, but where are we gonna stay? I can’t go back in there!  I just can’t!”
Kevin shrugged.  “Last time I was in California I was giving a SETI Talks lecture on extremophiles,” he said.  “They put me up at a Super 8 in Menlo Park.”
They ended up finding a Holiday Inn in a questionable-looking neighbourhood further inland.  Toulouse once again expressed a hope that nobody would recognize her, and it seemed that nobody did.  Her smeared makeup probably helped.  Once they had a room, Toulouse took a very long shower and Kevin sat down with his computer to answer some email.
“People are gonna be wondering where I am,” he said.
“What are you telling them?”  Peggy was curious.  How would anyone explain this mess?
“Well, I’m definitely not going to say I’m hanging out with time traveling clones looking for a Nazi superweapon,” Kevin said.  “I think I’ll say I’m dealing with a family crisis.  That’s technically true, it’s just not my family.”
A few minutes later, the shower finally shut off. Another quarter of an hour passed, and Toulouse emerged, wearing a robe and with a towel wound around her hair, and flopped face-first on the bed.  She looked utterly miserable.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by the comforter.
“It’s all right,” Peggy assured her.  “Everybody has to break down sometimes.”  Even Peggy herself, although she preferred not to let anyone see.
“It’s not that,” said Toulouse.  She turned her head so she could speak more clearly.  “When I went with him, I thought I was going to subtly interrogate him, like people do in movies, or like you hear about Black Widow.  I would bring up the apocalypse bunker by telling him the maid asked me…”  Tears spilled over in her eyes again, and she pulled the towel off her hair to bury her face in it instead.  “And I thought he would tell me because he doesn’t know I’m with you guys, or at least he’d let something slip, you know?  But I couldn’t do it.  I was too scared.  I Just let Kevin do all the talking.”
“To be fair,” Kevin said, “get me started about my work and I talk a lot.”
“So now I went through all that and I didn’t learn anything,” Toulouse sniffled. “I wanted to help but I just couldn’t.”
Peggy patted her on the back.  “Honestly, I’m glad you didn’t,” she said.  “It might have been very dangerous to let him suspect how much you know.  But Toulouse, we need other kinds of help now.”  She was starting to hate using this young woman for her money, but it wasn’t as if they had a lot of choice.
Toulouse looked up again.  “What kind?” she asked.
“Well, while you were at lunch Howard and I did some digging of our own,” Peggy said.  She explained that they’d gone back to the Best Buy, and what they’d learned from their searches there.  As Toulouse listened, her eyes dried and she sat up and began drying her hair.  Peggy half expected to see rainbows appearing on the white towel, but evidently Toulouse’s hair was colourfast.
“Good for you,” Toulouse said, managing a tear-streaked smile.  “You’re getting the hang of the twenty-first century already.  I’m proud.”
“We’re quick learners,” Howard assured her.
“So the missing library crystals may be in Malibu or in New York,” said Peggy.  “We need to check both places.  This time I think we’ll start with the closer one.”  If they’d done that in the Sandhill Playa Del Rey, it would have saved them a lot of trouble.
“Oh, you don’t need to go to Malibu,” said Toulouse. She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe.
“Yeah,” Kevin agreed.  “Malibu’s out.  Your son built a house there, and a terrorist knocked it down.”
“What?”  Howard’s eyes widened.  “Is he okay? What happened?”
“Long story.  Christmas 2013,” said Kevin.  “But if you hid anything there, I’m sure he would have found it.”
“Definitely,” Toulouse agreed.  She got up and went to the desk, where Kevin was sitting with his computer.  “What’s the address of this mansion in New York?” she asked, reaching over his shoulder to access Google maps.
“1E 70th Street, Manhattan,” said Howard and Peggy in unison.
“That sounds familiar,” said Kevin with a frown. He typed it in, and a result came up.
“Oh!” Toulouse exclaimed.  “I’ve been there!  That’s the Stark Gallery – it’s an art museum!”
“It is?” asked Howard, surprised all over again.
“Absolutely,” Toulouse nodded.
Kevin selected a link.  “Yeah, says it was opened sometime in the nineties, in memory of Howard and Maria Stark.”
That didn’t sound like good news to Peggy.  “Then it can’t be there, either,” Peggy said. Surely somebody would have found a thing hidden in a museum.
“It still might,” Howard told her.  “One of the things I did when I repaired the vault was make sure it was better hidden.  I made it smaller, and I had plans to conceal the entrance.  If I managed to finish that, they might not have found it, even if they renovated the entire interior.”
“They’ve got a lot of rooms that still have the original furnishings,” Toulouse said.  “They might not even have done that.”
“You see?” Howard asked.  “They’ve got to be there!”
“It’ll be worth checking,” Peggy decided.  “Toulouse, you don’t have to keep helping us…”
“Yes, I do!”  Toulouse had already moved Kevin’s chair aside, and was looking up plane tickets.
“If your family really is involved in this, then it could be particularly dangerous for you,” said Peggy.  It was clear that Toulouse had already had a narrow escape during lunch with her brother, and by now HYDRA would certainly have noticed that she kept turning up where Howard and Peggy were.
“If my family is involved in this, then it’s my responsibility to do something about it,” Toulouse insisted. “Whatever they’re up to, I need to know about it!  I should have known about it already!”
“They deliberately hid it from you,” Peggy reminded her.  “It’s not your fault.”
“Well, I’ve been ignoring them because they ignore me,” said Toulouse.  “Maybe if I hadn’t been out shopping and getting degrees and stuff, I would have noticed something was up earlier!”
Peggy really didn’t know what to say to that.  Such things were always obvious in retrospect – she sometimes still lay awake at night wondering how she’d ever trusted Dr. Ivchenko.  “I understand you feeling that way,” she said cautiously, “and we do appreciate your help. But Toulouse, remember what I told you. If we say something is too dangerous for you, there can’t be any argument.  You need to sit it out.  Promise me that.”
Toulouse bit her lip, hesitating.
“Toulouse,” said Peggy firmly.  “Promise me.”
“I promise,” said Toulouse, but this time Peggy wasn’t sure she could believe her.
“How about you, Doc?” Howard asked Kevin.
“I work in Yellowstone,” said Kevin.  “If there are people who are planning to blow it up underneath me, then I shouldn’t stay there.  I’d rather be with the people who are trying to do something about the people trying to blow up Yellowstone. I know the geology of the region, too,” he added.  “So I might even be useful.”
“Looks like we’ve got help whether we like it or not,” said Howard with a smile.
In the morning they went looking for another thrift shop, because Peggy and Howard really needed more than two outfits each. Peggy found herself a blue floral blouse with elbow-length sleeves and a high enough collar not to show any cleavage, which was a relief – full-length sleeves were very uncomfortable in the California heat.  Howard, meanwhile, came out in a black shirt with a pattern of pink flamingos on it.
“If we were going back, I’d tell you to wear that just to see what Mr. Jarvis thinks,” Peggy told him.
“He’d probably throw something at me,” said Howard cheerfully.
Despite this banter, Howard was quiet on the drive to the airport, and Peggy was too.  She was sure she knew what he was thinking – her joke had reminded him, as it had her, that they were unlikely to ever see Edwin Jarvis again.  If he hadn’t died years ago, he would be very old now, and perhaps have lost his memory the way Peggy herself had.  So would Anna, and Angie, and Jason, and Daniel, and everybody else they’d ever met.  Even if they did see any of these people again, what could they possibly say to each other?  It wasn’t even as if anyone had thought Peggy and Howard were dead and would be overjoyed to find they were wrong.  In the minds of their friends, they’d been there all along, and now these imposters arrived out of nowhere.
“Peg?” Howard asked softly.
“Yes?”
“I don’t mean to sound like a schmuck,” he said. “But… I’m glad you stepped onto that platform with me.”
There were several things Peggy could have said in response to that.  She could have told him he’d better be, because if she hadn’t he would almost certainly have been shot.  She could have remarked that she wished he hadn’t felt a need to play with the bloody thing.  She could have commented on his use of the word schmuck, which was not something he would normally have said unless he were rolling drunk.
But instead she just squeezed his hand.  “It’s nice to be appreciated,” she said.
10 notes · View notes
displacedprincess · 7 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
psd by halvgods
NAME: Elen’yi “Elena” Cal’baan HOME PLANET: Avalor (Galactic Republic) SPECIES: Human OCCUPATION: Senator from Avalor AGE: 25 ALLIANCE: Galactic Republic (kinda) - Elena’s main allegiance is to the people of her planet, Avalor, and everything she does in the Senate has their best interests at heart. But Elena has a soft spot for the under represented; as Senator, she has struck up friendships with minority Representatives from across the galaxy. She raises issues important to them with the other Senators - which has earned her the ire of some of them. Elena feels for the Representatives because their Senators keep them around because it’s good PR and looks progressive, but they don’t really care. She tries to give them a voice. Avalor doesn’t have a long history within the Republic. They...didn't ally with anybody too strongly during the Clone Wars but toward the end, after massive loss of life during multiple attempts to take control of the resource rich planet, Avalor sided with the Republic for protection. Some Senators despise Elena because of that, because they see her and her whole planet as cowards who only do what is convenient for them. TITLE(S) IF ANY: Senator Elen’yi “Elena” Cal’baan of Avalor, (disparagingly) The Baby Senator (she was 21 when she became a Senator, among the youngest in known history) WEAPON OF CHOICE: Her wit, principles, and knives (just in case) HOME PLANET DESCRIPTION: Avalor is a pristine planet teeming with natural resources. Avalor is in a bit of a powerful position in their immediate region of the galaxy because while several planets around them have all but exhausted their natural resources. Avalor of course cannot give too much away to other planets because they must sustain themselves, but the leverage of “if you comply we will provide X amount of Y resource to you, Planet Z” proves useful from time to time. Avalor is now known to be a relatively wealthy planet, so struggling planets treat Avalor with a mix of envy and distaste. Some other Senators from wealthy planets dislike Senator Cal’baan because she cares too much about poor people and the underrepresented.
CONNECTIONS:
Goliath Cal’baan - adoptive father, took her in when she was eight years old. Elena loves him fiercely, her loyalty to her people is only matched by her loyalty to her father and sister.
Isa Cal’baan - sister. Isa was five when Goliath took them in and luckily she doesn’t remember how awful life was before. Elena loves Isa more than anything in the galaxy and she will fuck anybody up who comes near her.
Kida- A Representative of planet _____ and Elena’s secret lover. What Star Wars AU is complete without a torrid secret lesbian love affair?
Senator Toulouse Bonfamille - Hates him. He hates her. “Corporations are people” my ASS.
Gabe - Elena’s Jedi Knight guard and friend
wanted: citizens of Avalor, more political enemies, political allies
A LONG, LONG TIME AGO… :
tw: gore
... a girl by the name of Elen’yi, affectionately called Elena, was born in poverty in the slums of a city in the mountain region of one of the nine continents of Avalor. From the day she could form memories and surely before, Elen’yi was taught by the older children in the slums the arts of pickpocketing and getting rich folks to give you money. By the age of seven, she was quite skilled, and was teaching her four year old sister to follow in her expert footsteps. Elen’yi doesn’t remember when her parents died. Or if she even had any to begin with. So, she doesn’t know if little Isa is actually her sister or just some random girl, but she remembers in her earliest memories that no matter what, there was a giggling, babbling baby in the arms of Dai’a, the older street girl (girl was perhaps a stretch, as Dai’a was something like twenty years old at this time) on whom Elen’yi most heavily relied, and that Dai’a always called her “your sister.”
So, whether Isa and Elena shared the same parents or not...that was up for debate. But by seven, Elen’yi and Isa were inseparable: bathed together under the same small waterfall, Isa distracted people while Elena stole from them, and the older girl never settled in somewhere for the night without first neatly tucking Isa into her arms for safekeeping.
It was on a warm night, when the air smelled like an old bathroom after a steaming hot shower, after Elen’yi had peppered the top of Isa’s head with goodnight kisses, that everything changed.
Elena doesn’t remember exactly what happened next. Screaming. Fire. Bang! bang! bang! bangbangbangbangbang! The sound of a blade cutting through the air -several blades. She remembered Dai’a on the ground, bleeding, god, worse than bleeding, her insides - it made her sick even to this day to think about it. She remembered Dai’a being alive long enough to hand Elena her satchel of all the money and stolen items she had and telling her to take Isa and run until she collapsed, and to not look back, and never ever come back.
Years later, Elen’yi would learn that this was one of several government-observed but civilian-led attacks on slums and packs of street children. The Dahnnen (Dahnn, the region-state on Avalor where Elena was born) government wanted to rid their cities of the plague of “feral” children to give the tourism industry a boom so they started a sneaky campaign to make locals see the children as pests no better than leeches. 
The next...few months or so are quite hazy. Elen’yi was able to buy their way out of Dahnn and into the neighboring region-state of...well, she didn’t know. She didn’t know how to read or write, or anything about geography. She just gave the ticket teller machine a bunch of money and selected two train tickets to the purple button because she loved purple and when Elena and Isa stepped off the train, they were in the biggest city they’d ever seen! The...one of two cities they’d ever seen. The air wasn’t quite as clean as in the mountains, but breathing was still easy. And, as Elena would discover, this region-state’s government didn’t sanction the slaughter of orphaned homeless children.
Elen’yi stole fruit and vegetables from vendors when she could. She’d take a bite, maybe two for herself and tell Isa to eat as much as she could. Then she’d take one more, maybe two more bites and save the rest for Isa later. It’s what Dai’a did for her. And since Elena and Is were street kids without a pack leader, that made her the pack leader. And the leader takes care of the others first.
She thinks...that it was maybe about six months after the attack on her slum that her life changed again. For the first time, for the better, but Elena didn’t know that at the time. All she knew at the time was Snatchers - Dai’a’s word for people who tried to take street kids and sell them for money (Elen’yi as an adult would learn that these children, if young enough, were wold to wealthy families across the galaxy who wanted children, and if they were too old, sold to servitude) - were there.
Snatchers had followed Elena and Isa to the alleyway they’d made their home and were approaching the sisters. They spoke sweetly. Probably. They didn’t speak to her in a language she understood, but their faces were just like the faces of Snatchers she’d seen before. She tried to protect Isa, she really did, but the man was stronger than her and yanked her right out of her arms. Elena screamed “Give her back, give her back!” but she forgot they didn’t speak the Dahnn language here.
Even if they did...Dai’a had called that Snatchers, not Giver-Backers.
Elena kept shouting as one of the three men hoisted her off the ground. She kicked and punched to no end. When a fourth and even larger figure appeared out of the darkness, Elena shrieked because she was sure this was it - she was going to be Snatched, Isa was going to be Snatched, and they’d never see each other again!
And just when she was going to close her eyes, the figure socked the third Snatched in the jaw and send him into a building! Her jaw dropped! The figure wasn’t done - they grabbed the person holding Isa and wrangled Isa with one arm while picking him up by the throat and throwing him to the side with the other. The Snatcher dropped Elen’yi to the ground and she landed face-first. Disoriented, but not enough not to hear the figure’s fist collide with the last Snatcher’s face, she stood up.
“G-Give me my sister!” She shouted to them, holding her arms out for Isa.
“But you can barely stand straight, little one,” the fig - a man...sorta - said in Dahnn. 
“Give her back! Don’t bother Snatching us. I - I have a kn-knife!” 
The man nodded and knelt to her level, Isa in his one arm, the other extended to her. “You can stab me if you’d like. But I’m not here to Snatch you. I heard you tell them to put her down.”
“You...helped me?” Elena’s eyes softened before she caught herself and puffed back up. “Why? For what? Do you want to make a deal? Ain’t got nothin’. Stupidhead. I’m eight, pick on someone your own size!”
“Wooow, eight is young to be on your own like this. Can you tell me where your parents live? I’ll walk you girls home.”
“Ain’t got none. Stupid. Now give her back!” She swung the knife about wildly, as if she actually knew what do to with it against the largest man she’d ever seen with blue - blue? - skin. 
The man’s already gentle expression softened. And that startled her. She’d never seen anybody look like that before. It threw her off guard enough to not noticed he’d taken her knife. It stunned her enough to left him convince her to follow him to his home. He told her his name was Goliath Cal’baan after he placed a hot cup of tea in front of her. She told him her name was Elen’yi, but her friends called her Elena. When he asked if that meant they were friends, she kicked her feet as they dangled off the chair and muttered that she supposed so. 
Goliath told her that he spoke many languages of the galaxy and of he planet Avalor. That he was a Pantoran from...not really a planet. But a planet’s moon, a settlement called Wyv'rn, and after Wyv'rn’s destruction, he’d settled here. He’s a former military man, now an ambassador. No wife, no children, just him. He said he wanted to improve quality of life for all people.
Elena said he was nothing like the government men in Dahnn, said they killed her pack of street kids and only she and survived.
Goliath said children should never be seen as burdens or pests, and whoever killed them deserved to rot. 
Elena agreed. And she never did leave Goliath Cal’baan’s home.
He taught her the common language of planet Avalor and Galactic Basic. She told him she wanted to forget how to speak Dahnn and asked him not to help her remember it. He obliged. She asked if she could put Cal’baan as her last name on papers. He said she was welcome to. She asked if he was her father now. He said he’d like it very much if she thought that, but it was up to her.
“I think I’d like it if you were my father,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m going to bed now.”
Elena never knew another day on hunger after meeting Goliath. Isa never remembered what it was like before their father. Elena was thankful for that. And Elena discovered he wasn’t a stupid street mouse after all, that she was actually quite intelligent. She had a knack for languages and politics at an early age; she took an interest in Goliath’s career, and her father encouraged this interest.
Elena was fifteen when she asked to get the gold familial face tattoos his species got to identify the family they’re from. She was eighteen when she completed Advanced Schooling. And at twenty-one, she became one of the youngest Senators in history.
Elen’yi Cal’baan is a divisive figure in Galactic politics. She’s sees as either a symbol of new hope or a threat to the status quo - rarely anything in between. Though she advocates peace, her progressive politics threaten some old fashioned thinkers. She has as many enemies as allies - if not more. 
Her Jedi knight guard, Gabe, is perhaps her closest - and maybe only true - friend. They’ve known each other for over five years now and she trusts him with her life. Elena is sensitive to the Force, but cannot use it. From time to time, she experiences a sort of force sickness, that renders her weak. Sometimes she is stuck in bed. Most of the time, when she’s feeling ill, she’s in a wheelchair to get around. Otherwise, Elena usually walks upright.
Her weapons of choice are knives she’s been trained to use, just in case.
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The aim of this blog is to give you some idea as to why I choose a particular subject, how I ultimately produce the painting and the message that I want to get across in my art.
Toulouse is the nearest city to where I live in the south of France so it is the city that I know, that I am familiar with and it is a city which has a real homeless issue. Homelessness in France is a significant social issue, one that is estimated to affect over 140,000 people, including 30,000 children. I often go to Toulouse to meet the homeless, talk with them and try to help in some way weather that is buying someone a coffee or advising them as to what help that they may be able to get. I get to see familiar faces and then after about 6 months that person then disappears and move on to somewhere else. This particular day was fairly sunny and there was a warm atmosphere around the main square, there seemed a signifiant number of young homeless people and although they were in a desperate situation they all wanted to talk and share their story, they all seemed to have some hope for the future no matter how dire their current circumstances were. I left the main square to walk back to my car when I walked down a side street and all of a sudden everything changed. Where there was sun there was cloud, where there was laughter there was silence, where there were clouds of people there was just one person, an old homeless man,. My natural instinct was to approach the homeless man and engage in conversation but as I approached I noticed that there was no movement from the man, no acknowledgement or reaction as I got near to him. His eyes did not move, he said nothing to me even when I asked questions. The sadness hit my like a crashing wave, I had never seen someone so sad, there was no hope in his eyes, he had given up on this world and his mind was somewhere else, somewhere without all the sadness and pain. The scene reminded me of my favourite book, the first book that I ever read, Charles Dickens’ Christmas Carol. It reminded me of the step from Christmas present to Christmas Future. The ghost of the Christmas Future always tore at me and I felt it here. The young homeless people that I had just seen clinging on to hope, still full of life and laughter yet turn a corner and see what the future can hold.
I wanted to show in this picture my views on homelessness. I wanted to add visibility to those who seem invisible. I wanted the message to come over that in the world that we live where materialism thrives and where people always want more there are those who are victims of this pursuit of “Want”. We are all able to help the homeless, it is not an issue that we have no control on, we can buy a coffee, smile, talk and laugh, all emotions that mean so much more than the small initial amount of joy someone gets from buying something. “Men’s clearance” was the slogan that I added to the shop window to suggest that this man could be for sale, a reject, a clearance. I added a bar code on the jacket of the subject to tie this idea in. The bag with the broken hearts is something that I developed very slightly in order to make it look like broken hearts rather than petals. The brick work was really important to me as this gives a harshness, a cold truth to the image. The crutch has an image of an angel with wings on it and I also added under the bar code “Mt 25:35-40”, this is a reference in the bible to homelessness. It is not there for a religious message but I think the words are really warming.
3 notes · View notes
sunnysidehq · 5 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
◟˖﹡˙⊰ ᶤᶰᵗʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᶤᶰᵍ : TOULOUSE BONFAMILLE ⊱ ʿ﹡˖◝
NAME: toulouse bonfamille AGE: 22 - 24 PRONOUNS: utp GENDER: utp FACECLAIM: kian lawley, ross lynch RESIDENCE: silent springs gated community, silent springs BASED ON: toulouse, the aristocats INSPIRATION: click here !!
RUMOR HAS IT THAT…
the eldest of the bonfamille kids is also the most artistic one. i mean, have you seen toulouse lately ? there’s a pretty big chance that if you did, there probably was a sketchbook around somewhere too. or an empty canvas and some paint brushes. all of them have been seen hanging out with that greasy dude, thomas o’malley. i even heard someone say how toulouse is trying to imitate the charming ‘ alley cat ‘ – but that kid is too much of a softie to be like thomas, if you ask me. either way, i think that mrs. bonfamille is proud of those kids, all of them are pretty special and extremely talented. don’t you wish you could sketch like toulouse ? ‘cause i sure do.
toulouse has NOT BEEN SPOTTED around the streets of sunnyside.
0 notes
fanesavin · 7 years ago
Text
Long Way Back, Part II: The Crescent City
Words: 49281 Characters: @faye-andrews Fane, Cat, Beulah & Shady Shane. Synopsis: Situated in Louisiana down on the Mississippi River near the Gulf of Mexico, this quaint little city attracts all sorts of unique characters some more interesting than others. Nicknamed the "Big Easy", New Orleans is known for it's round-the-clock nightlife, vibrant music scene and spicy, singular cuisine reflecting its history as a melting pot of French, African and American cultures. One thing's for sure, however... secrets don't stay hidden for long in this city. Tag Warnings: Sex Mention, USFW, Exhibitionism, Murder Mention, Violence, Threat, Coercion, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Kidnapping Mention, Torture Mention, Child Trafficking Mention, Sex Trade Mention, Drugs Mention, Overdose Mention, Prisoner of War Mention/Implied, Human Experimentation, Body Mutilation Mention & War Mention
There is a house in New Orleans…
The city was just as Faye remembered. Hot, muggy, and full of life. The cobblestone streets of of the French Quarter were silent beneath their feet as they walked past the horse-drawn carriages waiting on the tourists and on weary locals - Faye stopping to give one or two a pat, past the artists selling their rich and vibrant work, and the food vendors selling everything from bits of fried alligator on a stick, to beignets covered in powdered sugar and served on a paper plate fresh to order.
From somewhere nearby, a street musician played a sad song on a trumpet, and laughter and the clink of glassware drifted out of the propped open doors of the bars and restaurants that lined the streets. A flash of cool air ruffled Faye’s hair every now and then. It had started to curl even more in the humidity, and though she was dressed in a tank top and a cotton skirt, her skin gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat. Fane however, looked nonplussed. They turned down a street that was a bit more narrow, one car width across, but still lined with the gleaming neon signs of hometown bars both famous and infamous. And when they came to a stop on the corner of Bourbon and Toulouse, Faye gave his hand a nervous squeeze. “Well, that’s her,” she said, tilting her chin towards a place down and across the other side of Bourbon Street.
The ‘Morgana’s’ logo - a tall, stylized ‘M’ inside a vertical ellipse - shone brightly in a wash of neon purple from above the double front doors. There was no name, only the logo. The facade was old brick, the kind that every studio apartment in the Northeast tried to replicate but never got quite right. An iron balcony skirted the upper floor, French doors leading inside all open to the night air, and they could see people standing out there with their drinks, laughing and talking.
Below, a large man in a black t-shirt stood by the double front doors that were flanked by large potted palms, checking ID’s and stamping hands. Faye smiled. Now that she was here, she couldn’t wait to get inside. “Come on,” Faye said, pulling Fane through the crowd and towards the bar front. Faye felt the familiar wash of her magic, still there from years ago, as they passed through the crowd and slipped past the man in black unnoticed and on into the bar itself. Her magic recognized her, and she would always be allowed entrance.  
They had woken up a bit later than usual for both of them that morning. And had actually been in the process of potential, and well past due, morning ‘reconnection,’ when the bedroom door had been flung open and in ran a squealing Eowyn followed by three very large, very happy dogs. The toddler had proceeded to jump on the bed and sequester herself between her mother and Fane, laughing madly as the dogs tried to follow, though only one managed it, heaving his 150 pound body onto the mattress and settling down like it was his personal space.
Faye could only look at Faye across the expanse of sheets, kid, and dog, and burst out laughing. Because there was nothing else for it. Breakfast had passed uneventfully, with Faye showing Fane around the house for the rest of the morning, and then after lunch she’d put Eowyn down for a nap and finally sat down with her Gram to tell her about Faye’s mother. Afterwards, they’d emerged from the kitchen not much worse for wear, and Faye’s Gram, while she looked a bit sad, approached Fane and pulled him into a hug. She didn’t say anything, just hugged him tight, and gave his face a gentle, knowing pat once she pulled away. She’d gone upstairs then, to lie down with Eowyn, and Faye had fallen into Fane’s arms and had a good cry after telling him that her Gram had already known. They’d ended up dozing on the couch in the library for a couple of hours.
Later, Beaulah had insisted on spending the evening with Eowyn while Faye and Fane went out. Faye hadn’t even gotten around to asking yet. But the old woman had practically shoved them out of the house as Wyn tugged her towards the living room and her DVD collection.
And now here they were, standing in the main room of Morgana’s, music from a live band that was playing a mixture of blues and rock thrumming all around them. “God, it’s just like I remember,” Faye said, putting a hand of her hammering heart. “What d’you think?” she asked Fane over the noise.
But before he could answer, a thickly accented voice called out from somewhere near the bar. “Faye Benoit, as I live an’ fuckin’ breathe.”
Faye turned towards the voice, the owner of which was a woman with skin the color of mocha, a head full of thick, wavy dark curls, and eyes the color of sunlit honey. She wore a blue dress that fell to her knees, printed with white flowers, and her middle was wrapped in a corset of the same color bound with red ribbon. She moved like she was floating across the floor, and Faye let go of Fane’s hand briefly to raise her arms and embrace her. “Catarina Dufraine,” Faye laughed as she embraced the woman who had run the bar for her for the last five plus years. “How the hell are you, my friend?” She slipped into French without even thinking about it, and the other woman laughed in return.
“I’m perfect. As is this ol’ place.” She gestured around as the two pulled apart. “What the hell’re you doin’ in town? I woulda thought you were dead, ‘cept those checks keep clearin’.” Her gold eyes slid past Faye to Fane, a slow smile spreading on her face. “Who’s your friend?” she stage-whispered to Faye.
“Takin’ a break from real life for a bit. It’s been too long besides,” Faye said, snorting and rolling her eyes in good humor at the comment about the checks. “And this is my boyfriend, Fane.” Faye reached for his hand and pulled him over. “Fane, this is Cat.”
They both needed a break, after their experience the prior night and Faye’s conversation with her gram this morning the moment they were all but shoved out the door Fane obliged. He’d been to New Orleans, about sixty years ago or thereabouts (dates really didn’t matter all that much) for some business dealings which left little time to enjoy the city to its true potential. So, being back here with a local more than willing to show him around and point out the things a casual passer-by might miss that the locals considered monumental. It was nice, and Fane happily fell into the role of pupil at whatever history or story Faye had to deliver to him.
He was taken by the architecture and design of the city, particularly the old quarter and every time they came across a horse he happily stopped to pet each steed’s neck. Despite it’s own unique values, there were some things universal to tourist traps; that being the street-artists, vendors and general attempts to pander whatever items could for the highest of prices. Still, even Fane couldn’t say no to the sugar-coated beignets when they were offered.
Whilst Faye had dressed simply, Fane opted for smart-casual considering they were supposed to be going out this evening and meeting Faye’s friends. He couldn’t help but want to set a decent impression, so a charcoal back panelled-grey waistcoat and tie with a white shirt tucked into matching charcoal trousers and for once finished with a grey flat cap tipped low at an angle over his eyes casting them a little into shadow despite the neon lights from the signs flaring all around them. The city was alive, and it breathed a measure of life into his veins to hear people simply going about their lives, living them-- happy, sad and anything between or beyond those scopes of emotion. He was excited to finally be going to the infamous Morgana’s and the sight of it didn’t disappoint, looking up at the grand old facade of the building he let out a low whistle of pure admiration “damn that’s one pretty building.”
Fane was hardly phased by the bouncer at the door, and soon enough he was being pulled through into the interior of the building feeling the ripple of magic and wards across his skin as they moved across the building’s threshold. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were going, it had been a while since he’d been to what was essentially a nightclub-- they weren’t normally his style but a bar was something he could work with well enough. The music vibrated through him to the bone, and the style did make a grin come to his features-- he hadn’t been entirely sure what he’d been expecting when he’d come in but trust Faye to have a club with decent taste just like its owner he supposed. Her question made him turn back to her from his wide-eyed assessment a grin splitting his features “it’s-” but his answer was quickly interrupted by another.
One who as soon as Fane set his eyes on her he knew his pulse would have sped in his chest out of pure excitement if he had one, and his gaze widened both in awe and shock at the woman behind the bar. He barely even noticed when Faye dropped his hand to embrace her too great was his excitement, because this woman, well, she was a Naga and that in itself was enough to leave him somewhere between awestruck and curious. He did register the slip of their conversation to French, able to decently keep up more or less with what they were saying but still taking in the bartender’s appearance with an almost gleeful grin on his features.
Still, he sort of managed to rein in his excitement for about 10 seconds as Faye introduced him “enchanté madame,” he greeted stepping forward to take Cat’s hand and dipping enough to press a lingering kiss to it in greeting before he drew back. Looking at Faye then he shook her arm firmly; as though he just had some point to make that she had to absolutely pay attention to him for, he launched into quick rapid French his Parisian tone curling his words in the language fluently “Faye why didn’t you tell me she was a naga! I mean-- do you know how rare nagas are?” he looked back at Cat then a somewhat cross of fascination and awe still in his features whilst he rattled Faye’s arm to further maintain her attention to this very clearly interesting fact. “Faye’s been keeping you a secret, which I think is unfair because we don’t keep gorgeous naga friends secret.” Another shake of her arm was given to emphasise his point “I mean, Faye! She’s a naga, oh my god and this is amazing. I love nagas! When I run into them that is… which have I said, is very rare?” Realising perhaps a little too late his excitement may have gotten the better of him he shut his mouth and his expression grew sheepish as he finally looked back to Cat “sorry-- I’m just, very excited.... It really is lovely to meet you darling.”
Faye thought Fane looked fantastic dressed as he was. A far cry from the ratty jeans and t-shirt that had been the favorite of the last man she’d walked down these streets with. But then again she always liked how he looked, whether it was a suit, pajamas, or casual attire like tonight. Her own wardrobe for the night consisted of a long skirt and a black top, accented with a necklace and bracelet set and strappy sandals. It was nice enough for a casual dinner and for anything else they might get into.
“Ain’t she?” Faye agreed about the old corner warehouse that had been renovated after a fire - set by a former coven member of Faye’s - had destroyed the original Morgana’s, which had been much smaller and much more outdated.
Once inside, Faye instantly felt at home. The crowd was a mixture of young people (21 and over only) and those that were closer to her own age, but all seemed to be having a good time. The music thumped and Faye could already feel the irresistible urge to dance rising up in her. But then she was very much distracted by much more important things.  
Faye didn’t see Fane’s good-natured gawking at her friend, but Catarina noticed. She was a watcher, Faye had already said. Noticed everything about everyone. As she slipped out of Faye’s embrace and swayed towards Fane, who was a good eight inches taller than her - Cat standing at 5’ 7” - she was already smiling. “Ooh, I like you already. Nice to see a man with some manners come around from time to time.”
She gave Fane's hand a small squeeze, noting the coolness of his skin and subsequent lack of heat signature and pulse. Releasing him as he turned back to Faye, Catarina watched the two with her golden eyes.
“You didn’t ask. And yes, I do. But keep your voice down,” Faye laughed. “This place is full o’ humans who don’t know nothin’ ‘bout us, hm?” While New Orleans was a pocket of magical and supernatural activity, it was nothing like Soapberry. This was a human city, populated by people who thought witches and vampires were just the stuff of books, movies, and tourism gimmicks. “Like I said, you didn’t ask.” She gave Fane a poke in the ribs for his excitement, though she found it utterly endearing.
Cat, for her part, looked entirely too pleased with herself as Fane kept on complimenting her, calling her gorgeous and nearly quite literally jumping up and down over meeting her. A sly smirk rode up one side of her mouth, and she leaned towards Faye, though she was looking at Fane. “I like him. Wouldn't mind wrappin’ my coils around him, if you catch my meanin’.” She bumped Faye's shoulder with her own. “You still into uh… sharin’?” Her grin grew positively wicked, and the tip of her tongue - which may or may not have been forked - flicked out to wet her lower lip.
Faye shook her head and pointed a finger at her friend. “Not no more. He’s all mine, darlin’. You keep them beautiful slippery hands to yourself, hm?”
Cat shrugged, though she reached up to tip Fane’s chin with a red-lacquered nail. “Pity. You woulda liked it.”
Faye shook her head at Fane, but it was with affection at his antics. “Well, I’m sure she’d love to talk to you all about herself. She’s vain, don’t let her tell you otherwise,” Faye grinned, knowing full well her friend could hear her.  
“I am,” Cat agreed without hesitation. “But I mean… look at me? Right?” She spun in a circle, revealing that the back of her calves were tattooed with what looked like a pattern of snakeskin that disappeared up underneath her skirt along the back of her thighs. She smiled genuinely at him as she finished her spin. “Why thank you, darlin’, that’s real nice to hear. Most folks that know what I’m really like get all freaked out. Like I’m gonna swallow ‘em up. Or spit venom in their eye. I don’t spit,” she said quite seriously. “It ain’t ladylike. Sides I couldn’t even if I wanted to now, could I? All these fools see is a pretty bartender, and that’s all they need to see. So… you be good and treat my girl right,” she laid a hand on Faye's arm, “ and I just might show you the real me, hm? Since you're so interested.”
Cat grinned at Fane one more time before turning to Faye and gesturing that they both should follow. “Come on… we’re drinkin’ tonight. To celebrate.” And she proceeded back behind the bar. She set three glasses out, a bottle of top shelf tequila - for Faye - and then turned to Fane. “What's your poison, darlin’?”
The differences in their styles was a rather amusing fact for them both; one that got pointed out more often than not whenever they looked at one another stood together. Still, he thought she looked gorgeous and it was a fact he reminded her of as much as he could throughout the night. Plus it suited the humidity of the place, to wear anything else would be a little ridiculous. If Fane actually had body temperature he would have likely been sweating by as such he didn’t and therefore could wear pretty much whatever he wanted regardless of what the temperature was like.
The music was practically deafening for him, but he did his best to tune it out to background noise bringing his attention to conversation instead. That was one issue with clubs and confined spaces playing loud music; more often than not he had to well and truly focus if he wanted to hear anything at all beyond the beat of the music.
Cat’s words made his grin grow, “manners maketh man I say shame not so many share my views but what can you do?” Fane didn’t mind her squeeze, knowing that she was simply deducing what he was which wasn’t an entirely difficult feat in itself considering the physical indicators.
Faye’s admonishments made him puff out a lungful of air, “well, how can I ask about something I didn’t know about?” he countered arching a brow at her and clearly looking at her you know I’m right look. Her poke to his ribs made him jerk and give her a small nudge back in kind, though he did note that Cat was practically preening under his attention. The three of them made quite a set considering they all well and truly lived up to the definition of attention seekers. Still, Cat’s interest only made him smirk in slightly smug self-satisfaction that he could draw such a reaction from someone within 0.05 seconds of meeting them.
Faye’s reaction to Cat’s question only made him look all the more gleeful, and Fane pointed at Faye a little before stage-whispering “she’s a little bit possessive over me.” And frankly Fane had absolutely no qualms about such a fact which made Cat’s eyes gleam with mirth.
The touch of her nail made his lips curl ever so slightly, no effort even being made to pull away “oh no doubt about it darling, I’m sure you’re coils are-- ensnaring.”
As she spun Fane couldn’t help his eyes drifting to the skin on the back of her legs, absolutely enraptured with studying her and letting his eyes skim back up not particularly bothering to hide the fact that he was indeed admiring her. Faye knew where his loyalties lay but why should it stop either of them recognising beauty in other people “darling you’re beautiful and a sight to behold, truly so. You know-- I think you’d be a wonderful study for drawing sometime.” He scoffed a little as she spoke of people freaking out about Nagas. “Ignorance, people think I’m on the verge of biting them the moment they find out what I am mind you some people quite enjoy me biting them” a slightly sly look was shot in Faye’s direction then before he chuckled heartily at Cat’s words. “I wish I could promise that, but I’ve a tendency for misbehaving so I can’t promise you good, but I can promise I have this lady’s best intentions in mind darling.” Still, the prospect of being able to see her tail did made him grin “oh interested for sure.”
Fane followed along with Faye to lean against the bar where there was some room. “Best whiskey you got hm? And maybe something special? I’d rather make the effects last than burn out, we are here for a good time after all.”
Cat chimed a laugh before turning to fetch a bottle of top-shelf stuff but also something slightly smaller, mixing a dash of the smaller bottle’s contents with the whiskey before serving it up with a flourish. “Try that darlin’, speciality brew that I think you’ll enjoy” to which Fane nodded his thanks whilst Cat poured the tequila out for herself and Faye raising one shot in a toast. “To old friends, and new” with a small tip at Faye then Fane she knocked the line she’d poured for herself back.
“To old friends, and new” Fane echoed tapping his glass with Cat’s, then Faye’s though instead of knocking his drink back took a sip the smooth whiskey running caramel smooth down the back of his throat.
An hour later they were all well and truly drunk. Not to the point of being sloppy, but well past the point of giving two shits about anything other than having a good time. They’d pulled up a table in the corner, away from most of the crowd. The music had changed from a loud thumping bass to something a bit more sedate. An electric guitar played the first few riffs of ‘The Sky is Crying’ as couples danced closed together on the floor, the lights on the stage fading into softer, more muted colors to fit the mood. The tequila and the whiskey and the little bottle of liquid that Cat had brought out special for Fane all sat in the middle of their table. Faye sat close to Fane, close enough that she could slip a leg lazily over his. One arm stretched along the back of their chairs, playing idle patterns across the skin of his neck. The other held a cigarette, which Faye took a long drag of before setting it in the ashtray.
They’d long gotten past the normal introductions of where everyone was from, and what they did for work, how they met etc, etc. Cat was from Louisiana, but not New Orleans. She’d moved down as a teen with her parents. Her dad had been an oil worker, working the rigs out in the Gulf for years before finally retiring after the Deepwater Horizon tragedy. They lived out in Metarie, him and her mom. Now Cat was telling Fane a story about the protestors that used to love to come to Bourbon street, carrying their signs about how God would punish all the sinners, and how Faye’s bar in particular was targeted because of ‘rumors’ - Cat made air quotes, her red nails flashing in the low light - that Faye was a Satan worshipping witch. Or well, it was more a story about how Faye got into it with the cops over the fact that the ‘peaceful protestors’ were blocking the entrance to her business.
“She tells this cop,” Cat snorted with laughter, banging her hand on the table and making the bottle jump. “She tells this cop to go fuck himself, and then… and then… and I told her not to… I told her… they cain’t arrest you for runnin’ that big mouth o’ hers, but then… she poked him. She fuckin’ poked this guy. Right in the chest. Jus’ like this.” Cat reached out and gave Fane a hard poke on the sternum. “Called him a - What was it?”
“A kawin…” Faye said with absolutely no remorse.
“A cunt,” Cat explained. “Only thing kept her outta the back o’ that cop car was me. You still owe me for that.” The Naga pointed at Faye, who had the good sense to look chastised.
“I gave you half my bar, what more do you want?” she laughed, pouring herself another drink.
“Thanks would be nice,” Cat teased, taking a drag from her own cigarette.
“I did say thank you. And that was what? Six? Seven years ago? God it’s been a long time.” Faye shook her head, sipping her drink slowly this time. She was pleasantly buzzed, and a fine sheen of sweat still covered her skin, though it was a bit cooler inside the bar. Fane’s skin was also cool beneath her fingertips, and she had an intense desire to press her face to his neck, both to soak up the coolness and to inhale him because Christ he smelled good.  
“It has,” Cat agreed, swirling her liquor in her glass. Her golden eyes moved between the two of them, and she found herself happy for her friend. “Though there ain’t been no shortage of strange shit goin’ on around here. Just like old times.” There was a pause, and then she spoke again, a smirk crawling over her lips. “I heard rumors-”
“No,” Faye said, coughing as she choked on her drink, though laughter followed. “No rumors, no crazy bayou bullshit, Cat. No way…”
“Fine.” She held up her hands. “Fine, I won’t tell you. She don’t like my stories,” Cat told Fane. “But… it’s a good one. So I’ll tell you instead…” She turned bodily towards Fane, leaning over the table.
“Oh, God…” Faye sighed, turning back her drink even as she smiled.
“Have you ever seen a white gator? Now I’m not talkin’ ‘bout the kind they got down at the zoo. No… no, I’m talkin’ ‘bout a gator the size of school bus. An’ he ain’t white ‘cause he was born with no color. He’s white ‘cause he spent his whole life underground. Down in them tunnels that run deep under the city. Under the swamp. And he grew and he grew, feedin’ on all the bad stuff folks toss into the lake, or flush down the drain. Feedin’ on sin.”
“Oh, good Lord, Cat, ain’t none of that true…” Faye huffed, giving Fane a look that said her friend was crazy.
“Ain’t it? That bridge that’s out down your way? The one that crosses down through the Black Bayou?” The Naga huffed, giving Faye a head tilt. “Weren’t no boat did that. Was him. I bet my ass.”
Fane had ended up slouched back in one of the booth seats, cap discarded on the table, one foot kicked up idly on another chair drawn in nearby whilst Faye’s was strewn idly over his thigh. The combined smell of tobacco and booze was heavy on the air from their three lights, the music a little more mellow than some of the more upbeat tracks that had formerly been on. His head tipped back against the cushions of the seating content in the soothing trace of Faye’s warm fingers whilst his own hand sat on her thigh drawing idle patterns whilst the other held a glass loosely.
There were all sorts of stories that had been traded over the past hour, Cat was a talker if ever he’d met one and he was happy to let her do exactly that, if anything Fane preferred to be regaled tales than he did tell them himself. But he’d shared a few of his own; how he’d been one of two people to kill Jack the Ripper probably being the most monumental tale that he’d shared himself, though others were thrown in about some of the explorations he’d been on in curse riddled temples that could put Indiana Jones to shame. He enjoyed hearing about the personal stories though, and whilst Cat told her story he lounged attentive to her every word up until her solid poke to his chest that made him snort forcibly before setting his glass aside knowing that if he didn’t he’d likely end up spilling it.
He patted Faye’s thigh then looking proud regardless of her own chastised expression. “I mean, this is Faye we’re talkin’ ‘bout there ain’t much that’s going to get her to shut up once she gets to talkin’--- even I have to get creative when I want to get a word in edgeways” he paused giving Faye a slightly mischievous side-eye and small scratch of his nails “gags and other things not included in that.” His accent had begun to mimic those around him, still vastly different but his enunciation had him dropping some of the typically crisp endings he usually rounded off. His head fell a little to rest on her arm grinning quite contently to settle back whilst they continued speaking his eyes going to the band on the stage momentarily, reaching his free hand for his cigarette and taking a lazy inhale breathing the smoke out his nose.
“Ooooh, please tell me someone’s bein’ manipulated by some voodoo doll or somethin’ ‘cause if they are I will never let Faye live that down if they are” Fane chimed jokingly a laugh shaking him a little where he slouched his head tilting to shoot a cheeky grin at Faye before returning to Cat. “Gator the size of a school-bus? That feeds on sin?” he echoed narrowing his eyes at Cat like he was trying to tell whether she was pulling his leg or being genuinely serious. He looked at Faye then trying to judge whether she believed this and returning back to Cat snorting out another lungful of smoke in his laughter at the concept. He shook his head a bit “nah, I mean white gator sure but a school-bus? Someone woulda noticed that they wouldn’t be rumours there would be… would be-- sightings not rumours if it was that big.”
Right?
The song that had been playing had faded out as the DJ took back over the music for a while to give the band a break, and all the conversation and sitting down whilst great and thoroughly enjoyable had made him a little restless. He wanted to move, wanted a lot of things but moving was the main thing in his mind shifting a bit to sit more upright he swapped his cigarette for his drink and finished it off feeling warm and pleasantly buzzed. “Mm, Faye baby?” his head lolled in her direction drawling out the words his tone having grown far more lascivious over the course of being plied with alcohol and whatever it was in that bottle Cat had gotten earlier “can we go dance?” He glanced at Cat with a lazy smile “I’ll dance with you too later darlin’ if you want?” He waved a finger at Faye “‘cause nobody leaves? puts? whatever baby in the corner.”
As Cat continued to talk, Faye felt that she should have warned Fane about her friend’s proclivity for storytelling. But he seemed genuinely interested, though he was starting to get a bit fidgety as they continued to sit still. “Watch it now,” she teased back as he drug his nails along her thigh. Though the motion only caused her to shift a bit closer, her skirt rucking a bit higher up her legs.
Faye and Cat both snorted in near unison as he mentioned voodoo dolls. “Half that stuffs tourist bullshit,” Faye told him. “Though I can safely say I’ve never been manipulated like that. Not by a doll, that is.” She eyed Cat across the table, knowing the woman knew things about her that no one else did. And as talkative and prone to sharing as the Naga was, even she knew when there was a line that didn’t need to be crossed. Or one that wasn’t her business to cross. She tipped an eyebrow at Faye as Fane looked back at the band, a silent conversation passing between the two woman.
Fane turned back to the conversation and Cat shrugged. “‘S true. An’ you know well as anybody else that if a thang like that don’t wanna be seen… it ain’t gonna be.”
Faye gave a shrug, not confirming or denying either Fane or Cat’s claims.
She had just finished off the rest of her drink when Fane turned towards her, asking to go dance. “Anythin’ you want darlin’...” she told him, her fingers sliding over his cheek lightly. “I’m gonna take him out there for a bit, else he’ll be bouncin’ around like a five year old,” Faye said to Cat.
The Naga grinned, her golden eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights. “I’ll take you up on that offer, Jack,” she said to Fane. “You two go on for now… I’m gonna find the little girl’s room anyway.”
As she got up and slipped off into the back of the bar, Faye turned to Fane, taking the hand that was on her thigh and sliding it just a little bit higher, teasing him, before she slid out of the booth and pulled him with her. They waded into the crowd of writhing bodies, the thump of the music and the pulse of the lights mixed with the press of darkness making Faye feel like she and Fane were the only two people in the room, despite the other dancers. She turned in his arms, pulling him close and wrapping her arms around his neck as her body swayed to the music, hips moving with unabashed intent, the alcohol in her system increasing the feeling of wanting to lose herself in him and the pulse of the music and just forget about everything else.
“I missed you…” she breathed into his ear, nails dragging slowly around his neck.
“Ain’t got nothin’ to watch unless you give me something to” he countered idly, taking full advantage of her positioning to rub his fingers with slow deliberateness over her warm skin exposed by the act. Liquid confidence and having zero qualms about this sort of thing anyway meant he was hardly deterred from paying her attention physically, plus Cat hardly seemed bothered so there was really no reason not to.
Their combined snort made him roll his eyes and pout a little at Faye, “I know that, hence why I was asking her to give me a reason why it wasn’t so I could hang it over your head and tease you mercilessly about it.” Still, you couldn’t win them all and her next comment though it piqued his interest he let be knowing that if she wanted to say more or had reason to she would have. His attention was prone to sliding here and there, especially in such a busy place as this and so he was oblivious to the silent conversation going on beside him.
With a slightly non-committal sound Fane shrugged, if it was true then seeing would be believing and nothing more than that would be the case. He was someone he tried to base his reasoning on what he experienced and it didn’t mean he would rule it out but neither would he agree until he’d seen actual evidence.
“Bah,” he puffed at her exclamation of him bouncing off the walls giving her a light nudge “you’re just jealous you can’t keep up with my sprightly energy levels.” Even so, he smirked at Cat “I look forward to it.”
For a moment they were left alone and he stretched his attention entirely fixing itself on Faye and her antics that only served to make his expression grow both curious and thoroughly amused. Any action that might have come as consequence paused as she all but shot from the booth dragging him along happily in her wake towards the floor where people danced happily to the music their hands always linked no matter where they weaved. The music when they stopped was far louder, echoed by the speaker’s positioning in such a way he could feel the music vibrating through his body, each note resonating in his ears and he could already feel himself getting caught by the beat even if he likely would be a little hard of hearing for a while later. When she finally stopped he sidled up behind her removing as much space between them as he could wanting to simply feel every part of her pressed up against him.
She turned then, facing him and his fingers grazed the skin of her waist revealed by the rise of her tank-top when she looped her arms around his neck. His body felt both loose from the alcohol and tightly wound from their continued interruptions but despite this he revelled holding her close like this in public swaying rhythmically both in time with her and the music in turn. There was hardly any space between them and every brushing pass of their hips made with a lax deliberateness on either part that made him grin smugly. This, he decided, was simply delightful.
Her breath rushed against his ear setting molten warmth coursing through his veins and causing his fingers to squeeze her waist scratching her skin lightly. He dipped until his cool lips brushed her ear when he spoke “did you? How much darlin’?”
Fane wasn’t one to lose his control of himself very often. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have control  now - he did - it was more the fact that he didn’t often imbibe in anything that would leave him in any sort of inebriated state. Whatever it was Cat had pulled from under the bar - Faye would have to inquire later - it had done the job. They were both well and truly gone, but still with enough of their wits about them not to fall all over themselves. There was something to be said though, for a proper buzz. One that came with having a good time and not from being sad or depressed. No, this buzz made Faye feel amazing.
She nosed along his neck as he leaned in, the slide of their hips doing nothing to temper the growing fire in her belly. Nor did his hands at her waist, squeezing enticingly. Her mouth found his neck as he breathed in her own ear, the alcohol making her even more hyper aware of every touch, every movement and brush of skin, than she had been before. Three weeks without him had run her to the top of her tolerance, and there was nothing stopping them now. “Enough that once I finally get you alone I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you don’t remember your own name…”
He had no idea what it was that Cat had given him to mix in with his drink, it was nothing that particularly affected the taste of whatever it was he had been given anyway which had made him in turn a little more curious. Most bartenders tended to mix in dashes of fairy blood but that only ever did so much considering it was usually rather diluted by the alcohol in the drink anyways. Whatever he’d had tonight left him feeling relaxed and more than pleasantly buzzed the edge taken off of everything.
It was hard not to laugh at how badly they both needed one another but they were both individuals with a rather high-geared sex drive and when that wasn’t met… Well, it was understandable to explain their behaviour lately- their frustrations in particular. Her words forced him to bite his lip the mere anticipation of such a thought positively thrilling in itself. “That better be a goddamn promise darlin’, and I’m willing to work for my reward” he drawled shifting to turn her and slot up behind her one hand pressing to her belly whilst the other slid under the material of her tank fingers splaying against her heated flesh and slipping upwards to graze the underside of her breasts.
His face buried itself against the dampness of her neck, unable to resist the call of her skin to his lips as he licked a stripe across the length of the beautiful column a sinful smile playing at his lips as blunt teeth bit down out of the blue on a particularly sensitive spot. Meanwhile the heel of his palm pressed down against her belly fingers resting just above the waistband of her skirt. “Is there something you need love?” the word rolled off his tongue without much thought, the term feeling just right despite the situation. “Go on,” he purred seductively “tell me what you want.”
Faye wasn’t lying when she’d told him earlier that she’d nearly called him up more than once over the last three weeks just so she could hear his voice while she brought herself off. She was a very physical person, and Fane was always more than happy to appease her, not suffering from a lack of drive himself. So the combination of them together and the lack of physical affection over the last little while was bubbling slowly to a head. Especially with the interruptions that kept coming over and over and over.
So the splay of his hand across her stomach, the brush of his fingers beneath her breasts… “I don’t break promises,” she said, covering his hand with hers where it teased at the waist of her skirt. She hummed in pleasure, tilting her head to give him more access to her neck. Her pulse sped up, and Faye wasn’t sure if it was the music or her heartbeat thumping so loudly in her chest. Either way, it was him that drew all her attention, and she pressed back into him, threading their fingers as she drew their hands further down towards the apex of her thighs.
She could barely stand it, despite the crowd and the music, and even without the influence of the alcohol, she would’ve been thinking the same thing. That she couldn’t wait any longer.
“You… I want you…” she breathed, turning her head to press her mouth to his jaw.
He was well aware she wasn’t joking, though neither had he when he’d told her he would have been more than happy to help her in whatever way she needed him to to help ease some of her stress. Whether that was literally coming over, or helping her across a call (the prior far more preferable but not always reasonable). Her hips ground back into his own; their bodies still moving in languid motions to the heavy bass. Despite being pretty much in the middle of the dancefloor between the volume of the music, the darkness and their shared enjoyment of exhibitionism this really was a perfect opportunity. Not one he intended to waste.
His hand shifted a little higher under her tank fingers expertly gripping one breast before his fingers pinched her firm nipples through the fabric of her bra “a part of me just wants to pull this down and tend to these with some proper attention” he muttered in her ear nipping at her earlobe whilst his fingers gave another tweak to the firm peak entirely at his mercy. From the outside it would have looked like he simply had her wrapped up in a tight embrace whilst they danced. The front was a rather vastly different image and a part of him was almost tempted to get them caught. Would they kick the former owner out of her own club? He doubted it. Still, the thrill of getting caught had him grinning ear to ear as she guided his hand down into the waist of her skirt his hand slipping against her flushed skin.
His arm tensed pausing her guided descent to where he had absolutely no doubt she wanted his attention, he was curious about what she was wearing under her get up tonight but his desire to tease her won out more than satisfying that curiosity. His head tipped as she pressed her mouth to his jaw. “You want me to what?” he wasn’t above teasing her, not even when he was on the brink of giving her a measure of the satisfaction she craved “prove it.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Faye had done something like this in her bar. But that had been a long, long time ago. And at that point she had felt more coerced into things than actually wanting to. But now… God she wanted to. Just the thought of getting caught, the thought of someone seeing them, or even better the thought of someone seeing them and wanting to watch… it stirred the warmth in Faye’s belly to a roar.
His hands over her nipples made her groan, and she pushed into him, wishing she had opted out of a bra tonight. She had nearly opted out of undies as well, but instead settled for a small lacey pair of  white bikinis. She huffed in frustration as he stopped with his hand even closer to where she wanted it. Faye even pressed into his hand, little sounds of neediness worming their way up out of her throat.
Her fingers tightened around his, and she muttered something obscene under her breath. “I want you to touch me… I need you to touch me… please…” If he wouldn’t do it here, there was a hallway nearby that led to the store room where the alcohol was kept. Faye was about to tug him down there and do as he asked, prove just how much she wanted him. The music reached a crescendo, and the DJ switched to something slower, but with just as much of a beat. Faye pressed against his hand harder, her body moving in a rolling sway against his own. If they hadn’t already known each other’s intentions, the way she danced against him would have been the clincher.
Perhaps tonight would shift wardrobe decisions in the future, he wasn’t sure but a part of him hoped so. His stubble scraped against her neck between the press of kisses and occasional moment where he would suck plum shaped bruises into her skin. Marks to show that she was well and truly claimed.
There was no missing her frustration, it was both audible and something he could feel in the increasing insistence of her body rocking back against his own. Fane had absolutely no intention of letting her drag him anywhere, not yet at least he was going to have his way with her right here that much was already certain in his mind. The music for the time being covered most of the noises working their way up her throat, and Fane was keenly aware he hadn’t even ventured between her legs yet. Now, that would be fun.
He would have preferred a little more detail but as the music shifted and her ass pressed against his cock he grunted softly nosing her salty skin his hand slipping further down until he gripped her firmly over her damp lacey panties letting her grind against his palm as a little offer of relief. But her pleas were enough to make him oblige her wishes, retracting his hand just enough to slide into her panties and over the curls nestled there until his hand found her sans barrier slicking his fingers through the wetness pooled between her thighs not bothering to wait as he pushed two inside her and pumped them to the same rhythm of the music around them. He didn’t even bother to bite back his own groan at the molten heat of her covering his hand as the heel of his palm ground over her clit “baby, didn’t know you could get so wet from a little dancing.” His other hand shifted down to wrap around her holding her up against him as a slight support.
Faye’s hand tightened against his neck as his hand finally slipped further down beneath the edge of her skirt. She was so tightly wound, and the night and his slow teasing touches as they had sat drinking earlier had only wound her up further. So when his fingers slid between her legs, into the slickness there, Faye let out a sound that was half sigh half moan. “Fuck…” came on the end of it, and the sound that purred out of him, vibrating against her neck, made her rock even harder against him.
There was no questioning him, no telling him to stop, no worrying about who would see them or if they would get caught. There was only the droning thump of the music and the rhythmic slide of his fingers between her legs. “Been wet since we left the house,” she panted, leaning her head back to nip at his jaw a bit harder than she normally did. “God, you feel so fuckin’ good…”
Her fingers pressed divots into the flesh of his neck under the anchoring dig of her fingers seeking some sort of purchase or grounding spot when he finally gave her what she wanted. Her arousal leaving next to no resistance for his fingers which slipped home with a certain confidence and familiarity of an individual well versed in the use of his hands in such activities. He made no effort to rush his motions, dragging his fingers almost all the way out before burying them in the warmth of her cunt grinning at the flutter of her muscles clamping down on his digits as though trying to draw him deeper inside of her. “Think you could take another one?” he breathed against her neck softly.
The rock of her ass against him made his eyes close knowing she’d likely be able to feel his hardening cock in the confines of his trousers losing himself simply in the moment holding her close whilst he gradually worked her higher to her own oblivion though all at his own sweet time. “The house?” he questioned sounding impressed though it turned into a grunted laugh as she bit down on his jaw, in retaliation he crooked his fingers on every thrust seeking out that one particular spot that would only help wind her tighter. Her clit was desperate for attention and every now and then between the graze of his palm he dragged his slick fingers up to toy with the bundle of nerves circling them before returning to fingering her with a deliberate singular intention of making her come undone. “No darlin’ you feel amazing, so good baby-- fuck you’re so tight. Bet you can’t wait to take my cock later, I’ll bend you over, stretch you out proper like you deserve hm? Fuck this sweet cunt ‘til you can’t walk straight ‘n’ you’ll feel me here for days.”
Whether people could hear her now over the music or whether they would frankly Fane didn’t give to shits, and he noticed a couple of surprised looks being shot their way by couples and individuals around them drawn mostly by Faye’s obscenities. “Baby, we have an audience” he drawled salaciously in her ear his fingers starting to speed a little enjoying how she was starting to writhe, pant and gasp a little more often from his attentions but also wanting to draw her attention to a couple of pairs of eyes that seemed clearly interested in the sight unfolding on the dancefloor. Fane didn’t really mind either way his focus only really on getting Faye to lose all coherent thought right here in his arms.
He slipped into her like she was made of honey, warm and pliant and nearly unresisting to his searching fingers. Though they knew right where to go, right where to press and touch and bend just enough to make her writhe against him. If the music hadn’t been what it was the act would have looked obscene. And even so it still was enough to eventually draw eyes. “I can take whatever you can give, baby.” She spread her legs a little to give him more room. The hand that was at his neck dropped down to reach between them, giving him a firm rub through his pants. He was hard against her, and she spared no thought for anyone else as she rolled her hips so that her ass rubbed right against him.
“Mmm,” she said as a yes. “Ever since I knew we were gettin’ an evenin’ to ourselves.” Her head fell back on his shoulder as his fingers slicked over her clit, and if he kept this up she wouldn’t last much longer. Even now she could feel herself climbing towards that precipice, his filthy words in her ear pushing her closer and closer. “I can’t wait… Christ, I want you… I want you to bend me over and rip my panties off… hold me down and fuck me ‘til you have to carry me to bed later… and then you can fuck me again, but you’ll have to take my ass because my cunt’ll be so swollen and bruised AH...” She let out a string of whispered expletives as he pressed just right on her clit. She was so wet… her thighs were soaked and slick... it wouldn’t take long now. And then she would show him just how appreciative she was.
A wicked grin split her face as his filthy promises changed to something else. Faye hadn’t been lying when she’d told him before that she wanted someone to watch them. And it seemed now they had their chance. “Let them watch… let them see what you do to me…” His hand moved faster, and she was practically hanging off him now as her legs refused to hold her up any longer. And when she came apart, she turned her head into his neck, crying out as her nails and teeth bit down hard across his own heated skin. She tasted the familiar tang of his blood, but just a drop or two before the skin had healed itself. Her climax rolled through her, and Faye opened her eyes as she eventually came down, boneless and momentarily sated, and meeting the heated gaze of one or two couples that had been standing close enough in the crowd to see what was happening. One looked scandalized, the other looked like they wanted to join.
And perhaps on another night, Faye would be so inclined, if Fane was feeling it as well. But right now, the man at her back was her only concern. She turned in his arms and pressed a fierce kiss to his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between her teeth. “God you’re amazing… now it’s your turn.” She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him with her, still kissing him as she backed towards a door down a small hall nearby. A wave of her hand and it unlocked, and Faye pulled him inside and slammed him back against the door. “I’m gonna suck your cock, baby… would you like that?” she asked, kissing him as she already worked on his belt. “Make you cum so hard they’ll hear you out there…”
He really didn’t care what or how it might look to other people, it was hardly as if they were the only ones in here tonight partaking in something of a slightly more kink-inclined nature. “That’s my girl,” he praised helping her to widen her stance with his foot just enough to allow his index and third finger to press together his middle settling over them. His hand was already coated in her arousal and with her widened stance it allowed him to reintroduce his fingers to her at more of a stretch than before not so deep but sometimes you had to sacrifice. His movements stuttered for a second and a quiet intake of breath could be heard at the hard press and rub of her hand if it hadn’t been apparent before well she certainly knew now.
It took everything in his power to not drag her off somewhere and do exactly that and take her home before seeing what else he might be able to get her to do. After all his blood both served as a potent healing influence and aphrodisiac for her so they were only limited by their combined exhaustion and though age might factor in he was willing to deal with soreness for the pleasure that would no doubt come with it. “Promises, promises… only if you return the favour sometime” he muttered in her ear giving it a quick nip. Though soon enough Faye was arching and bucking wildly in his hold and under the relentless stroke of his fingers but the sharp bite of her teeth and rake of her nails breaking skin caused Fane to throw his head back with a hiss at the same moment as her body seizing up and locking down on his fingers which worked her through her climax.
As the pain receded he let out a breathy laugh pointedly meeting the eyes of the few individuals looking in their direction as his hand slipped from her skirt his other arm holding her up securely by the waist until she could find her feet. He wasn’t the sort to have qualms about other people joining, they’d already had this discussion in the past and if Faye wanted to invite more people to join them then he’d happily accommodate. His mind right now was entirely for Faye kissing her back firmly his body shivering at the tug to his lip. She was dragging him away almost immediately and as she weaved through the crowd he took the time to lick off his sticky fingers. Only when they broke out the other side of the crowd their lips were locked again in another frenzy of kisses and he had no idea where the hell she was guiding him. One moment she was walking him back somewhere and the next Fane felt himself slammed forcibly back against a door.
The buckle of his belt clinked under her desperate hands and Fane leaned heavily against the door his words silenced by the sheer ferocity of her kisses. Helping to pop the button of his jeans and shove those along with his boxer-briefs down to his mid-thigh breathing a sigh of relief against her lips as his erection stood firm against the flat planes of his belly already leaking pre-cum down the shaft that he gripped pumping a little. His free hand went to her hair then yanking her away from his lips and staring at her pupils blown a sheen of crimson glimmering like brimstone in the depths of his eyes “why don’t you quit talkin’, get on your fuckin’ knees and put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.”
Her mouth pressed hard against his, one hand gripping his hair as she kissed him, the other working at his waist. Hot skin soon pressed against her hands, and she drug her fingers up the length of him, sighing into his mouth as she felt how hard he was for her. But before she could wrap her hand around his where it gripped his cock, his fingers were in her hair and she was yanked back. A rush of air left her along with a small sound of surprise, but as she saw the wicked gleam in his eyes, the red sheen that only appeared from time to time, either in anger or arousal, she smiled. Her tongue flicked out and across his lips, as she let out a breathy laugh, her eyes daring him to do his worst as she sank down to the floor.
It was dark in the storeroom, the only light filtering in from a window up high near the ceiling. But Faye didn’t need much light to see him. His cock was rigid and swollen, but she didn’t touch it just yet. Her mouth moved first to his inner thighs, nosing and kissing and sucking bruises that vanished as soon as they appeared back into the smooth skin. Her hand trailed after her mouth, soothing the skin and slicking the moisture from her kisses over it. Finally, only after she’d paid attention to all of him except the part that needed the most attention, did she turn her her mouth and tongue to his cock.
She wrapped a hand around it, and slid her nose up the soft skin covering the shaft until she could flick her tongue over the leaking tip. Looking up at him, she teased him with a few more flicks and tiny sucking kisses before before finally taking him slowly into her mouth. His hand was still in her hair, and she hummed in pleasure, closing her eyes as his familiar taste slid over her tongue and down her throat. There was no time wasted as she started moving, tightening her lips as she pulled back, slicking him with saliva mixed with precum.
Typically, Fane was a rather considerate man when it came to situations like this but alcohol ran his patience down and loosened his tongue considerably spilling thoughts that sometimes but usually didn’t make it past his lips. Right now though? There was absolutely no filter on his mouth or his thoughts, entirely uncensored and free for browsing. His hand wound her hair around his fist as he pushed her down to her knees to the point he towered over her where he stood over her a sinful smile slowly creeping onto his lips.
A low breath blew through his nostrils as she took her sweet time pleasuring his body; kissing, sucking and smoothing the lean lines of his thighs leaving him achingly hard and causing his cock to occasionally twitch. His fingers had curled tighter the longer she left him waiting and he’d been about to yank her to exactly where he wanted her when she did finally go where he wanted her most. The way she eyed him made his confidence swell, very thoroughly enjoying the sight of her down on her knees for him.
He leaned back heavily against the door as her fingers curled around his length, shaft pulsing hard in her firm grasp and his voice was grating as she teased him patience running thin. “Don’t tease me, I told you to put that mouth to us--- aah fuck” his jaw fell slack a throaty groan falling from his lips as she lowered her mouth to wrap around the swollen tip of his cock the warmth of her mouth causing his hips to buck and stomach muscles to clench. The vibrations from her hum shot through him making Fane’s head fall back with a sharp thud against the door, back arching off the wood his hips rocking against the tight vice of her lips ‘til she drew back with a wet pop a trail of saliva and pre-cum linking them still. “Now listen baby, you ain’t gonna stop ‘til you’re drinking me down ‘n’ I’m spilling from those pretty lips cherie, understand?” his free hand lifted, thumb pressing to her swollen lips pulling at the corner of them whilst he stated what he wanted in an authoritative tone, one that he hadn’t used in a very long time that brokered no argument though his hand moved to brush her face affectionately- perhaps an odd contrast of behaviours but also a display demonstrating that despite his words he still had her welfare in mind. “Don’t care if you choke, you ain’t gonna stop are you love?”
There was an utterly indecent thrill in what they were doing. Not only could they get caught - though it was Faye’s place, technically, and Cat had never given two shits what Faye got up to as long as it didn’t disrupt business - but there was the added factor that Fane was stronger than Faye. He could hurt her if he wanted, before Faye could even have the chance to fight back. Obviously he wouldn’t, and Faye knew that, but just the mere thought that the man with has fist wrapped so tightly in her hair could easily break her neck with just a twist of his hand thrilled the darkest parts of Faye’s psyche. The part where pain became pleasure, and danger became arousal.
Trusting Fane with that part of her, and being able to let him see it without fear of revulsion or timidness on his part, was like opening the doors on a part of her that had been stagnant for years. And letting the air in.
She felt the way his grip grew tighter as she teased and teased, the submissive part of Faye always seeing just how far she could push before she was punished. Before she was made to do as she was told. He was right on that edge, cock hard and pulsing, leaking and begging for the warmth of her mouth. And when she took him in, on the heels of his patience ending, Faye grinned even as she swallowed him down. God, he was beautiful.
One hand trailed up the smooth line of his thigh, cupping his balls while the other gripped the base of his cock, holding it steady as she sucked him. Pulling away with a soft, wet sound, she looked up at him, her eyes blown dark, a spark of violet shimmering around the edges. His finger brushed her face, and Faye turned into it just so, so her eyes never left his face. His tone was different, and it set her own arousal stirring again as he spoke. There would be no defying him, she knew. God, she couldn’t have even if she wanted. He looked utterly sinful, his shirt rucked up over the smooth flat planes of his belly, the gleam of wetness smeared over tight muscle from where his cock had tapped against him; the way his hips jutted forwards just so. Faye wanted nothing more than to do as he said, to drink him down and leave him writhing and boneless against the door.
His gentle touch to her face was the counter to his fist tight in her hair, just as his words, telling her not to stop even if she was choking on him, but rounded off with a word that Faye had only ever dreamed of hearing fall from his lips: ‘love.’ She sucked in a breath, and one hand rose to splay over his as she looked at him anew, and nodded. Not having heard him the first time back on the dance floor, with the music and the lights and the heightened state of need she’d been in, this time… this time Faye heard it.
And as she leaned back, teasing him with her lips and tongue as she had moments before, and then swallowing him down and doing as he said - not stopping - Faye had no room for thoughts that it might be the alcohol talking. Because he would never lie to her. Never. Even on her knees, his cock in her mouth and his hand fisted in her hair, urging her to take all of him, Faye knew that for certain.
There hadn’t been much opportunity for them to test out these particular areas yet, they’d discussed it in the past but talking and doing were vastly different things. She knew exactly what he wanted and he knew precisely what she was doing, and normally he would have tried to wait her out but weeks of building frustration led to little patience making itself known right now.
Even in his riled up state, the basest part of his nature that wanted to have her right here presently overtaking most consciousness there was a part of him that still wanted to take care of her; to make sure she felt comfortable and okay with everything. She’d made it more than clear that she enjoyed being made to play the submissive, and he didn’t mind letting her do exactly that still the brushing and searching stroke of his long fingers over the curve of her cheek was that sign that he wouldn’t betray the faith she placed in him. Whether that was here or in the future. Perhaps it was that notion, the trust they both placed in each other here and now combined with the ply of alcohol that caused the small admission casting an insight into his growing thoughts and feelings.
He heard her suck in a breath, feeling the pressure of her hand over his own touching her cheek causing him to gaze down in a mixture of affection and desire but soon enough his head was pressed back against the door when she returned to her work. Her mouth was pure heaven; licking and sucking with skill whilst his fingers remained wound in her soft tresses pulling her head up and down whilst she worked his rock hard shaft. His hips rocked matching her pace, groaning deeply every time the swollen tip hit the back of her throat his gaze fell to watch her devour his length “baby-- you’re so good, look at at you, look at you down on your knees for me, fuck Faye” his hand brushed her face again “god that’s it baby.” There was a major temptation to yank her off and shove her up against a wall, hitch her skirt up around her waist and have his way with her but he settled for her on her knees sucking him off like she was made to do it. He could feel the winding coil tightening in his belly, molten heat pooling warmer and warmer as he started to pump his hips a little faster more demanding in his growing desperation.
Before they left, Faye would have to remember to ask Cat for whatever was left of that little bottle. Not because she didn’t think she and Fane could have a good time without imbibing in alcohol, but because it never hurt to have a way to take the edge off, if there was a need for it. And besides, she wanted to know what the hell it was. Because my God…
She looked up and she could see the line of his neck as his head fell heavily back against the door. His back was arched, hip jutting forwards, taut skin pulling over the bow of his iliac crest. Faye couldn’t help herself as her slid her hand up and over, feeling the hard bone and tight muscle that trembled with each pull of her mouth over his cock. His hips moved with her now, and she could feel the frenzy building in the way he grasped tighter at her hair, in the sounds and the words that poured like sin and honey from his mouth, his crisp accent all but dissolved into something else. Just like he had. Something that was both familiar and strange, but something that she knew she would crave now, from time to time. Like she craved everything else about him.
Faye couldn’t return his words, not with the way he was moving into her touch, the slick slide of his cock hitting the back of her throat as she did her best to do as he said, to not choke, and to keep going until she felt the warm pulse of his release. It wouldn’t be long now. So she took him in, her hand curving over his hip, nails digging in as she encouraged him to his own climax.
‘Come on, love…’ she thought to herself, humming her encouragement around him. ‘I wanna see you when you come undone… I won’t let go… I won’t ever let go… God I love you so fuckin’ much…’
He was lost entirely in a world made up of sense and stimuli, the sight of his hands tangled in her hair encouraging and guiding cast in the filter of light from the window casting her into shadow and light, the wet sound of her sucking him off combined with his own pleas and cries echoing in the room, the taste of her from earlier still on his tongue, the slide of her hand and dig of her blunt nails into taut flesh muscle banding and snapping with every rock of his body. There was no way he’d last much longer, he knew that they both knew that.
Fane was unraveling under her attention, it didn’t take long after the sharp dig of her nails into the supple skin just above the curving crest of his hip. Just enough silent encouragement to get what they both wanted. He was done for, letting his willpower go as his nails dug a little into her scalp, thrusting a few hard pumps before his muscles seized up leaving him shuddering, arching and shaking against the door. His head thrown back in ecstasy, eyes  rolled back, a ragged gasping cry filling the room when he emptied into the warmth of her mouth. His mind had spun out of the atmosphere and his body eventually sagged boneless back against the door using it as support.
Taking a few moments to come back from the edge he’d fallen off he opened his eyes, easing his grip on her hair and watching her sit back, lips glistening with his spend utterly debauched and he managed a lazy grin. “Fucking hell Faye-- You’re so bloody beautiful.”
When he came undone Faye could hardly stand it. She wanted to rise to her feet and kiss him senseless, if he hadn’t already been out of his mind, and let him fuck her right there on the crates of Jack Daniels and seltzer water. But she was true to her promise, and when the warmth of his release filled her mouth, she swallowed him down, moving her mouth against him until he sagged against the door. Only then did she pull back, her lips shiny and wet with the mixture of their fluids. She stayed where she was, on her knees, caressing his thighs and rising up to plant soft kisses on the quivering flesh of his stomach, his softening cock brushing her chest.
She looked up at him then, and knew if he was such a sight - flushed with heat and hair in a wild disarray - then she must look well and thoroughly obscene. A smile split her face as he called her beautiful. And she rose to her feet then, leaning up to take his face in her hands. Instead of kissing him fiercely like she had before, this time she kissed him slowly, with the knowledge that he had called her love in the back of her mind. Fane didn’t use words like that lightly, and even as six sheets to the wind as they both were, Faye was certain it wasn’t said without some sort of intent. Whether he’d meant to say it just yet, that could be called into question, just like the night she’d come back from the Otherworld, and was so overwhelmed with so many things that she couldn’t help the word that had slipped from her mouth. She’d meant it, and didn’t regret saying it, though if things had been different she might have held onto it just a bit longer. But it was said and done, and Faye was glad she’d said it. There was no other word that would have been right in that instance.
Just as there wasn’t now.
“So are you, love… so are you…” she said breathlessly. She pressed her nose against his, stroking his face just as he’d done to her earlier. “Did you like it?” she grinned, kissing the corner of his mouth one more time.
He felt blissfully sated and unstrung from weeks of tension, and he matched her grin as she rose up quickly fixing his trousers back around his hips but leaving his shirt untucked. Letting her take a hold of his face he sighed into her mouth at the soft press of her lips and taste of himself there, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold her close whilst the other brushed her hair back tenderly. His mind was still pulling itself back together, and all he wanted to do was admire her in all her debauched and sinful glory. There was no lingering on what he’d said earlier, at least not for the time being-- perhaps later.
His brows lifted at her breathless remark but was by no means alarmed by the word as it left her lips, his hand smoothed down her hair the other rubbing the small of her back. “Like it? Baby,” he drawled deliberately drawing the word out in his husky tone “I loved it.” A hum left him as she kissed the corner of his mouth bumping his nose softly against her own.
Fane held her like that for a little while as he finally began to settle, eventually easing a bit of space between them with a grin. “Cat’s probably wondering jus’ what you’re doing with me. Shall we go find her?”
“I’m glad. I just wanna make you happy. ‘Cause you make me happy, hm?” She stepped back, taking a moment to adjust her skirt and her underwear as he righted himself as well, and when they were both situated, she took his hand again. “She probably knows. Girls got a sense about things.” Faye tapped a finger to her temple.
With one final peck to his mouth, Faye tugged him back out into the main area of the bar. The band was back, and the music was lower now, in the same vein as before. But Faye didn’t linger there just yet, instead making her way back to the bar. Cat was there, pouring shots for a pair of young men in khakis and polo shirts, their entire look and mannerisms just screaming ‘frat boy with daddy’s money’ to Faye. But she paid them no mind as they fist bumped and turned back their shots, Jagermeister from the looks of it. Faye cringed. Nasty stuff, Jager.
“You two have fun?” the Naga said, a sly smile on her face. “I thought you’d never come back.” She poured them each a drink and one for herself, leaning one elbow on the bar. “You still owe me a dance, Jack,” she grinned at Fane, sipping her drink.
Faye slid onto the barstool, still flushed and sated from their activities. She accepted the drink, glancing at Fane with a smirk. “Dancin’ might’ve already worn him out, Cat.” Faye was teasing them both, and if Fane wanted to dance with her friend she’d have no problem with that at all.
“Or she saw you drag me off like the desirous wild woman you are” he countered cheekily letting her pull him back out into the corridor back through to the bar where Cat was busy. A slight curl of distaste came to his lips at the sight of the drink the young guys were drinking, but he paid them little attention. Reaching the bar he leaned his side against it casually, an arm resting on the countertop idly.
As Cat spoke Fane looked at Faye then back at the Naga with an innocent shrug, “I’m getting old what can I say-- plus Faye got... hungry” his smile was positively shit-eating as he stood there, eyes dancing with mirth as he took the drink with a nod of thanks. “But, you’re right I do!” he tipped his glass a little in acknowledgement taking a sip “lemme drink this then I’ll take you for a spin darlin’, I’m between rounds right now” never let it be said he let an opportunity for a double-entendre go amiss.
A little while later after he’d finished his drink, setting the glass down he pressed a kiss to Faye’s cheek deliberately giving her ass a little smack before he waved for Cat to leave the confines of the bar. “C’mon darling, let’s show them a thing or two ‘bout dancing.”
“Or that,” Faye grinned back at him as they wound their way back to the bar.
Cat smiled at him. “Age is only a number, darlin’. Even for someone like you. And Faye’s always hungry for somethin’.” The Naga’s golden eyes slid to her friend. “Ain’t never seen nobody hungry as her. For all manner of things.” Her smile changed to one of silent conversation, though she didn’t try to hide it as she stared at the witch.
Faye tipped an eyebrow at the other woman, as if to say ‘don’t push it.’
Cat simply snorted and turned to her own drink. A bit later, Fane was sweeping her out onto the dance floor, Faye tapping the upbeat tune against the bartop with her fingers and she sipped her whiskey. It was good. Being back here. Remembering who she used to be. Who she still was in a way. Her thoughts drifted back to Nuadia, how they’d used to stand behind the bar just as Cat did now, listening to Faye’s troubles and making trouble of their own.
Her thoughts drifted for a bit, and it wasn’t until she felt the hair raise on the back of her neck that Faye stiffened slightly. She didn’t move, kept watching Fane and Cat dance, kept her glass raised to her lips, until she could pinpoint what direction the eyes she felt on her back were coming from. She closed her own eyes, and felt the magic surrounding Morgana’s, felt the wards shift and sway as she manipulated them to show her who was watching her. There was a crash of breaking glass to her left, and Faye’s head snapped in that direction, eyes opening. She slipped off her stool and pushed through the sway of bodies, letting the magic pull her to where it had hit it’s target.
There was only broken glass, spilled liquor, and empty space.
Whoever had been watching her was gone. Faye didn’t know whether to be glad for it, or afraid. Seeing that the mess would be cleaned up, she went back to her spot on the barstool, reaching for the bottle of whisky and pouring herself more. She drank it back in two swallows, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth to catch the excess.
On the dance floor, Cat grinned up at Fane as they swung back and forth to the music. “Never took Faye to be one to bind herself to someone like you. Not sayin’ you’re a bad fella, you don’t seem like it, just sayin’ that you’re kinda the opposite of what she’s drawn to: hairy, thick-necked, no brained, violent lumps. Last guy she was with owned the strip joint across the street. They hooked up ‘cause they was always fightin’ in the street. Yellin’ at each other. Faye broke a stipper’s nose one time, after she brought her skanky ass in here stealin’ customers.” The Naga grinned, clearly finding the memory humorous. “Buuuut anyway, what’re-” She paused then, eyes going suddenly unfocused as she stopped dancing altogether. After a moment, her head turned towards the bar as she felt the wards shift, so used to the hum of them by now that any disturbance was easily noted. “You feel that?” Cat asked, watching as Faye’s blonde head moved through the crowd and away from the bar. She wasn’t truly alarmed, but she knew what Faye had done.
She was searching for something.
But the magic settled then, going back to normal, though Cat had already started moving back towards the bar as Faye found her seat again. “What the hell was that?” she whispered, leaning close, her eyes shifting quickly to Fane as he came over as well before sliding back to Faye.
“Nothin’. Thought I saw someone I knew ‘s all.” Faye gave her another pointed look that said ‘not now’ and Cat let out a hiss - an actual reptilian-like hiss - of frustration.
“Bullshit,” the Naga said, slipping into rapid French, unaware that Fane could most likely follow most of it. “Who was it? You just moved all my wards, Faye, I-”
“My wards…” Faye said in an equally rapid roll of words, “and it was no one. I would tell you if it was. I swear, alright?”
Cat eyed her for a long moment, before conceding. “Fine. I trust you. Just… don’t freak me out like that, Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”
Fane was more than happy to entertain Cat, his movements languid and relaxed as the pair of them moved in time to the music. “I can be pretty convincing when I want to be,” he chuckled good-naturedly though his lips twisted a little. “Plus, I think I heard somewhere change is good right? S’long as she’s happy I’m not the sort to complain” he pointed out honestly his body rolling rhythmically letting him simply be carried by the beat of the music. Though almost as soon as Cat stopped moving he sensed something off, blinking he stilled and scanned the immediate crowd before he followed her gaze towards the bar. A tingle ran across his skin and down his spine, very much like the magic he recalled feeling when he helped Faye to set up the wards around her house. “Feels like magic,” if it was enough to stir Cat to caution he figured it had to be something similar “the wards?” He asked looking back towards where Faye had been when they left.
As soon as Cat started making her way back he slid his way through the crowd, already able to hear the conversation upon approach whether Cat was trying to be quiet deliberately or not. He situated himself to one side of the pair, a hand reaching out automatically to touch Faye’s waist.
Faye’s dismissive attitude got him wary, but Cat interjected and the switch to French was swift but he made no effort to interrupt merely listening. Until Cat receded but his own eyes narrowed a little fingers tightening in the side of her top gently “are you sure? Better we know in case it is something important” he didn’t want to press but felt the need to check.
Cat for her part looked a little surprised by his switch to French, but Fane ignored her look his attention focussed on Faye patiently but silently willing her to tell them if it was anything. But Faye seemed steadfast in her opinion of it being nothing and he seemed dubious before he gave a short nod. “Fine.”
“I thought I saw someone I knew,” Faye added on with a sigh, looking at them both, not wanting to lie even though it really was fine. She hadn't found anyone and no harm had been done. She laid a hand over Fane's and touched Cat’s arm. The Naga narrowed her eyes but gave a nod similar to the vampire, meeting his own over Faye's shoulder. Why the witch had deemed to flare the wards for the simple sake of seeing someone she knew? Cat was gonna call bullshit.
But the last thing she wanted to do was cause strife. “Lotsa people that still know you ‘round here, Faye. And not all remember you as fondly as me.” She gave them both another pointed look, and the conversation was done as she moved back behind the bar.
“Yeah. Yeah, I know,” Faye said, squeezing Fane's hand though she didn't look back at him. Instead she picked up her whiskey and downed it before finding herself a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, leaning her head on Fane's arm as she exhaled through her nose. They chatted and drank and smoked and finally the slight feeling of unease started to fade.
The bar grew busier as the night wore on, until finally Cat gestured that Faye should join her behind the counter. “Stop lookin’ so goddamn twitterpated and get your ass back here and mix a drink,” she called between pouring a round of six shots while shaking up a margarita.
Faye, who had been whispering something naughty in Fane's ear, looked over at her friend and snorted. “It's been years since I made anything that wasn't for me.” But still she got up and went to join Cat, pulling her hair up on top of her head in a messy bun. Within five minutes she was pouring shots, shaking mixers, and taking money left and right from thirsty college boys flashing their money clips - full of Daddy's money -like it  would impress someone, as well as staring openly at both Faye and Cat’s tits.
“That’ll be twenty bucks,” Faye said to one kid who who had ordered two shots of vodka.
“Twenty bucks? I thought shots were five?” he said, frowning and scoffing.
“They are. Starin’ at my tits is an extra ten.” Faye raised an eyebrow and held out her hand for the money, not joking whatsoever.
The kid huffed and forked over the cash anyway.
“Merci, babydoll.” Faye stuck the cash in the cash register as the kid moved off. She looked over at Fane. “Jump in anytime,” she grinned.
Fane was still dubious, it was hard for him not to be and his line of thinking was along the same route as Cat’s if he’d been able to read her thoughts. Even so, he let it be and drew up a stool near to Faye’s. At Cat’s warning he made a low sound of agreement in his throat, patting his pocket and pulling out a set of smokes tapping the box firmly causing one to slide out (a neat magic trick of his own). He plucked it out and lit it up popping it into his mouth as Cat poured him another drink that he drew over along with his cap that he’d left on the counter from their time over here prior to dancing.
Faye leaned up against his arm and he ended up tucking it around her letting her settle more bodily against him. He alternated between taking a drag on the smoke and drinking the whisky as the night drew on. Though he buzzed with laughter at Cat’s call interrupting Faye’s obscene utterances in his ear that gave him half a mind to drag her out and have his way with her. “Time t’get back in the habit then” he gave her a light nudge grinning at Cat as Faye went back behind the bar.
Some people might have gotten jealous at the blatant staring the young lads around him, but Fane merely looked on amused at the goings on particularly as some tried to get lucky and throw some insanely cheesy pickup lines Faye and Cat’s way in the hopes they’d get lucky. Some of the variety he heard were ‘are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see’, another put his phone on its selfie mode holding it up whilst declaring ‘I have to show you the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen’ and ‘you know, I’d love to go inside your wine cabinet and pull myself out a stiff one’ that had him rubbing a hand over his mouth if only to hide the snickers leaving him.
Though eventually he gave up and ended up snorting loudly grabbing one of them and pulling them over “oh you poor soul, does that actually work?”
“Um-- no.”
“No,” Fane echoed “I thought not” with another snort of laughter patting the guy on the face letting him stumble off before turning back to the bar. Looking at Faye hustling another kid he scratched his stubble a little as she turned her attention back to him waggling his brows at her cheekily figuring he could have some fun whilst he was at it and maybe make a few kids jealous in the process “you know if it’s a tenner just for looking I’m kind of curious what a hundred would get me darlin’.” He spoke eyeing her from where he perched head tilted a challenge glinting in his eyes.
Faye just grinned through all cheesy pickup lines, chatting back and forth and taking money and orders, not caring at all about the people that eyed her and her friend. The occasional supernatural passed through, Faye noting them when she took their money and their skin brushed - a few witches, an antronach or two, and one vampire - but Faye could take care of herself, and besides, Fane was there. Nothing bad would happen to her with him watching out for her too.
She watched as he came closer, looking every bit like the cat that just ate the canary, at the risk of being entirely cliche. But when she saw the teasing glint in his eye, Faye couldn’t help but play along. The crowd was loud, as was the music - though it was still the live band and not the DJ - but it was quiet enough here that the conversations of those around could be heard. A few curious heads turned, both at his accent and at the words ‘hundred.’
Faye slid over and leaned towards him over the bar. “Pay up and lets find out handsome.” She held out her hand for the cash, and when he gave it over she made a show of holding the $100 up to the light to check it’s authenticity. “Seems legit… now… what will a Benjamin get you, hm?” She reached out for him, snagging the neck of his shirt and pulling him over the bar to meet her in the middle for a searing kiss. Faye kissed him like she might crawl on top of the bar and have her way with him right then and there. And when she pulled back she drug his lower lip between her teeth, soothing it with a flick of her tongue as she released him. “Does that suit?” she asked, knowing that one or two people standing nearby had seen them. Even now she could hear wallets opening.
“Should I take their money?” she whispered to Fane with a grin. “Though I’d rather not kiss anybody else tonight, if it’s all the same to you.”
He took his time in fetching the money, deliberately holding it up in two fingers but before she could take it from his grasp his fingers jerked back hovering a few inches from her hand. “How about your name first gorgeous? I’d say a gentleman deserves a lady’s name if he’s gonna treat her right ‘n’ proper like she deserves” his eyes glinted and only once he had a name did he pass over the bill.
His body was pliant and bent to her will, not even bothering to resist as she caught him by the front of his waistcoat and drew him in; his eyes dropping to her lips before she was kissing the hell out of him. His head tilted returning the kiss passionately his tongue pressing a little into her mouth as he propped himself up on the bar for support. The tug of her teeth to his lip as she pulled away had him chasing her lips half having leaned up and over the bar in an attempt to chase her retreat. “Decent start I suppose, but the night’s still young” he murmured crooking a finger to get her to come closer, enough for him to whisper in her ear.
“Might as well, though if you don’t want to kiss them you could always dance for their notes? Same difference but maybe later.” He nipped her ear before drawing back, “would another get me some body shots from you cherie? I promise, I’ll behave myself but I won’t deny you look... delicious” his finger dragged an exaggerated cross over his heart as though to emphasis his promise. The inside joke between the supernaturals present evident considering just how delicious she was indeed for him.
They were most definitely making up for the lack of contact over the last three weeks. Even before their turn on the dance floor and in the store room, they’d barely been able to keep their hands off one another. Even if it was simply a touch on the arm, or feet brushing together, or a passing stroke of a hand, they’d needed to touch one another, and reestablish that connection that was such an important part of their relationship.
“I’d rather kiss you, and dance for you,” Faye said. “But you’re damn right it will. Though I believe you’ll behave like I believe my name’s Yankee Doodle.” She said it loud enough for the people standing around to hear. “Two hundred bucks from this fine gentleman,” she drew out the word ‘fine’ in a long drawl, “for skin shots.” Faye took Fane’s money, slipping it into a pocket on her skirt just like she had the last one. He’d never have to pay for a thing at her bar, and she’d give it all back to him later. It was all just for show. And apparently it was a good one.
Hoots and catcalls came from all around as Faye set out the necessary ingredients for this particular piece of debauchery: tequila, salt, limes. Before she hopped up on the bar Coyote Ugly style and stretched out on her back. Room had already been cleared, and Faye gave Fane a smirk. “Do your worst, baby.”
“Babygirl, you’ve got all the time in the world to dance and kiss me” considering how physical the pair of them were, it was no real surprise how for almost the entire night they’d been in contact someway or somehow. Where other people might have enjoyed a little affection the pair of them tended to take it to such levels that one almost always ended up sat in the other’s lap. Letting her pluck the note from his fingers he smirked, but pouted and looked hurt the crowd that had started to gather around the pair of them laughing at Faye’s words “I have no idea what you’re on ‘bout, ‘course I’ll behave.”
Whilst Faye was busy getting the necessary items he cleared some of the glasses and tossed his cap out of the way behind the bar somewhere figuring he’d fetch it later. She didn’t need to give him the notes back, it wasn’t as if he really needed it even if this was all for show frankly he wasn’t even thinking about that just enjoying getting lost in the antics of the evening. Once Faye was situated on the bar he pushed his stool out and helped to roll up her shirt exposing the smooth curve of her belly taking his time to drag his palms over her skin, next he grabbed a lime and slid a little up the bar running the flesh of the fruit over the curve of the top of her breasts before letting her hold the rind in her lips whilst he switched for the salt. Noticing a few phones being pulled and held up in his peripheral vision he saw no point not to make a show of it, of her. Getting deliberately low which earned a few whoops he ghosted his lips along her jaw and neck nipping lightly with his teeth his stubble scraping her skin with the act whilst he tapped out the salt onto the spot he’d put the lime juice.
Satisfied that it was more or less set up he grabbed the tequila and returned to her belly casting a look up at her with a grin before he set a cool palm to her flushed skin, tipping the bottle up and filling up her belly button spilling a little excess over onto her skin. He immediately dipped down keeping a hold of the bottle to lap and drink up the tequila nosing her skin a little as he drank before moving on; ducking down to lick up the salt from either side of her breast with a quick drag of his tongue before he pivoted and bit the lime pulling back whilst he chewed on the fruit. Setting the rind aside Fane brushed Faye’s face shifting to lean over and slot his mouth over Faye’s kissing her firmly the taste of the shot still on his palette whilst the crowd cheered again, he only broke away to lick any excess salt from her skin before he finally did sit back looking incredibly smug, eyes glinting mischievously. “Hm, yep, you’re delicious baby.”
“Do I?” she asked, a gleam in her eye. “And we’ll see,” was all she said to the promise to behave on his part.
Stretched out on her back on the bar, she watched as he rolled up her shirt, squirming a little at the touch of his hands. There were shouts of encouragement and a few whistles here and there as he slipped the lime over her chest, depositing it in her mouth with a grin. She watched him, giving him a look as he finally pulled back from nosing and nipping along her skin. The cool slide of alcohol into her navel made her squirm, and a little spilled over at her barely contained laughter. But he quickly followed it with his mouth and tongue, and Faye’s back arched up off the bar a little, to shouts and call and the flash of phone cameras.
And when he kissed her, the people standing around watching cheered and catcalled and a few even patted Fane on the back. They were pressed close around them, a mass of people on all sides, but they were all just having a good time. Faye couldn’t fault that. This was New Orleans after all. What better place to let loose and let you inhibitions go? Especially when you were here with someone you loved and who was currently licking margarita salt off your breasts in front of sixty people.
“So are you,” she grinned, and plucked a cherry from a serving tray just behind the bar. She dropped it in her belly button and tipped an eyebrow at him. “You gonna get it? Or am I gonna have to ask someone else?”
Hands flew up in the air around them to try and vie for the chance to suck the cherry out of Faye’s belly button. “Better hurry,” she teased him.
She looked absolutely beautiful right there; back arched in a perfect bridge off the bar, writhing just a little under his lips, pushing her chest up with the act and Fane hummed against her skin making sure to savour every single moment of it. The whoops and cheers of the crowd only serving to bolster his sky-high confidence. It had been a while since he’d behaved in this way, let loose and given into the depraved side of his mind which told him to wrap a hand around her throat and have her right here on the countertop but instead he opted for something different.
Licking his lips as he eyed the glint of alcohol and wetness from his work on her stomach the smugness only seemed eternally fixed in place. He loosened off his tie shoving this in his pocket, undoing the top button of his shirt whilst he spoke “careful baby or I might let you take a bite of me, ‘n’ we both know what happens then” he said the last bit lower just enough for her to hear watching as she dropped it into her belly button. The challenge in her eyes was one he couldn’t deny, he could never deny.
Instead of remaining on the floor Fane judged his options knowing time was running out, but ultimately decided for something else. Making sure the bar was clear he pressed a hand to the counter before he hopped up, crawling up the bar until he sat down straddling her hips. Making a show of moving his hands behind his back so they were out of the way he smirked down at her before his body levered forwards and he press a kiss to the left side of where the cherry rested, next he moved North, South and East only pausing on the last one to suck a plum coloured bruise into her skin. Throughout this display his eyes remained fixed on her, enjoying the small leaps in her breath and chest from these little ministrations of his. He took his time before finally coming back making a show of opening his mouth wide, teeth dragging down her skin as they closed over the cherry plucking it from her body before he sat back on his haunches slowly chewing the fruit before swallowing it.
Faye had darker urges as well, things that were rarely given the chance to breathe. Her dalliance with Teddy Aynesworth had been the last time anything had come close. Not that she and Fane hadn’t done things that would make most people blush, but neither had truly pushed the limits and delved into the more perverse side of their sexual tastes. Faye knew Fane could hurt her. She knew it would take no effort on his part whatsoever. But she also trusted him implicitly. So even if he had wrapped his hand around her throat and cut off her air, taking her right where they lay (though even New Orleans had it’s laws and the last thing Faye wanted to do was end up in jail), she would have let him. Because she trusted him.
But as it was, his hands stayed where they were, and Faye watched with hooded eyes as he stripped out of his tie and - Good Lord - hopped onto the bar with her in one smooth motion. “You’re insane,” she cackled, grinning as he straddled her and proceeded to make a crowd-pleasing show out of getting the cherry without using his hands. Faye arched into the slide of his mouth, warm and wet and teasing, as he finally plucked the cherry from her belly button, chewed, and swallowed.
Grinning at him, Faye pushed up, nearly meeting him face to face. A finger reached up and traced the visible skin beneath the open buttons of his shirt. “You stole my cherry,” she said, pouting a little bit. “I think you owe me another kiss for it.” She pulled him in and kissed him fiercely, which caused more cheering and hooting and cat calls among the crowd.
“Alright, alright… jesus christ you two I’m gonna start chargin’ like the titty bars do after that. Come on… get your fine asses off my bar.” Cat was grinning at them, but motioning them to get down. “Come on… crowds thinnin’ out anyway.”
“Not the worst thing I’ve been called” Fane responded with a bright grin flashed in her direction before he focussed himself entirely on fetching the cherry as per requested. He was struggling to keep a straight face and ended up laughing between kisses the sound rich and whiskey-toned enjoying the warmth of her skin under him. Her own cackle only served to spur his laughter more, he could have stayed here all night.
Faye rose from her prone position and he let out a satisfied sound at the drag of her fingers over his skin a heated trail left in its wake. “I’m going to steal more than that from you tonight” his words held promises left unsaid but he hardly had time to even acquiesce before she was pulling him in for another demanding, all-consuming kiss the left him grasping and desperate for more. Had it not been for Cat’s voice he was sure there wasn’t much keeping him from enacting his earlier thoughts.
With a petulant huff he shot a baleful look over at the naga, “you can charge away I’m really rather enjoying myself right here” he made a point of indicating to Faye’s lap which he still straddled nonchalantly. “Pfft,” he blew the sound out “is this ‘cause you weren’t invited to join the fine ass party goin’ on up here? Nothin’ stopping you from joining” Fane pointed out with a jocular smile as he finally slid off the counter landing on his feet as per Cat’s request. Offering his hand to Faye to help her down from the bar in a rather gentlemanly fashion despite what they’d both been doing a few moments prior.
Faye loved Fane's laugh. Especially when it was full and unencumbered and rolled from his lips like fine wine and dark chocolate. “I bet,” Faye laughed in return. Her mirth turned softer, into little breathless huffs of laughter and familiar (to Fane at least) sounds of encouragement as he worked his way towards her cherry.
“Are you threatenin’ my virtue?” she teased, sounding mock scandalized. “I'm a good girl, I'll have you know.” And then she was kissing him again, the rest of the world falling away as she got lost in the taste of whiskey and tequila and the sweet tang of cherries that was lingered on his lips. Cats voice made Faye pout, and she could only look over at her friend as Fane teased her.
The Naga shot him a look back that was both enticing and indicative that she wouldn't have minded joining their party of two. “Some of us have to work… Though I will keep that in mind, darlin’, don't you think I won't.”
Faye let herself be helped down from the bar, rolling her tank top back down and leaning heavily over the bar. “You should come up to soapberry some time. Fane has a hot tub. And you wouldn't have to hide anymore.”
Cat looked over at Faye, smiling at her and Fane  before leaning over and cupping Faye's chin in her hand. She pressed a quick kiss to Faye's mouth. “I ain't hidin’ darlin’. I've always been who I am. Just… ain't everybody deservin’ to know the real me. But… thanks for the offer.”
“Me?” he asked eyes widening comically and looking offended though it was all in play, “I have nooooo idea what you’re on about” though as Faye declared herself a good girl he snorted unable to help the laughter bubbling up in him. “Good girl?” another snicker sounded from his lips “right, and I’m the king of fantasyland.”
Fane wasn’t exactly the sort to say no to such opportunities, and if Cat really wanted to then who was he to deny her? Her excuse of work made him tsk and give her a pointed look, “darlin’ there’s no fun in working all the time but if you’re sure.”
Cat merely offered him a tilt of her head in contemplation, “this time. But” she paused stepping over to brush a hand over his chest a playful light to her eyes “maybe if you’re lucky there’ll be a next time.”
“Awh Cat you tease,” he shot back with a slanted smile over Faye’s shoulder as he helped her down touching her waist lightly as she righted herself after their antics also speaking of his estate. “I have a sauna, indoor pool, outdoor pool and a hot tub which are all free for use but out of them I’d say the sauna and hot tub are the best parts,” his eyes trailed Cat’s movements as she leaned over to kiss Faye the sight causing him to raise a brow though no point of issue came from him. “Though people might get excited, Naga’s aren’t all that common over there-- mind you I did run into one the other day but-- point being you’re always welcome to come stay at mine if you do fancy a visit. A friend of Faye’s is a friend of mine.”
His words made Cat look back to him once more with a smile, shifting over so that she could walk her nails up the front of his shirt before they looped into the material and tugged lightly pulling him over the counter to press a languid kiss to his lips. “This one’s a charmer,” she said, eyes roaming over to Faye whilst she held fast to Fane’s shirt “watch him Faye” with another quick kiss she let him go and Fane merely breathed out a laugh raising a hand to rub his lips whilst moving back to Faye’s side.
The night wore on; a little more dancing, some time up on stage with Fane playing the piano and Faye singing eventually it was time to start turning for home. At the door his arms wrapped around Faye’s waist and his lips pressed into her neck he listened to Cat speak.
“It was nice seein’ you darlin’s,” she chimed smoothly pulling out two cards that she pressed along with his cap into Fane’s palm with a squeeze a tingle of magic warming his palm from one nearest his skin that made him look down and back to the Naga “not sure how long the two of yous are in the city for but… If you’re here in a few nights there’s a little thing going down I think you should check out.”
Fane beamed chin resting on the slope of Faye’s shoulder, “only thing I’m checkin’ out is this one and maybe a pretty Naga” which served to make Cat laugh and swat his shoulder playfully with a tsking sound. He pressed his chuckle into the curve of Faye’s neck “and the gator thing… ‘cause I can’t deny that I don’t love a good bit of mystery.”
The evening had been enjoyable for all of them and after a few more farewells he tucked the cards into his pocket and stepped off the pavement starting to amble along in the direction they’d come when they first entered the city. The city was still buzzing with activity, though a little less so than it had been earlier and he sighed contently as he breathed in the atmosphere the air helping to start clearing his head a little but making no effort to part his arms from Faye. After a little while of walking he glanced at her “you ever think of leaving Springs?” he asked thoughtfully no real point to his question beyond simple curiosity “findin’ somewhere… quieter to settle down?”
“King of my fantasy,” Faye smirked, utterly unashamed of the terrible joke.
She hopped down off the bar, feeling just a little bit sticky but not really minding. The kiss caught her off guard, but she smiled into it. There was nothing overtly sexual about it, other than the manner in which it was delivered. Same as the one she delivered to Fane, which had Faye biting her lower lip. She knew where Fane’s loyalties lie, just as he did her, though the prospect of giving into the darker desire to watch him with someone else was a heavy one. And Cat would have no qualms, as she made very apparent.
“Oh, I plan on doin’ more than watch him,” Faye said, earning a snort and a cheeky grin from her friend.
The night wore on and soon enough they were heading home. Faye bid farewell to her friend, and promised to come home more. She looked curiously at Fane as Cat pressed the cards into his hand, but didn’t ask just then. It sounded interesting, whatever it was. As did the rumors Cat had talked more about over the course of the night. Though Faye was more interested in the event than the hunt for a gator. Though if Fane wanted to check it out, she wouldn’t say no. Especially not with his arms around her like they were, his mouth on her neck, and filthy promises in her ear. “N’awlins has got plenty of mystery, that I can guarantee.”
The night was warm, and people still strolled the streets, laughing and drinking and generally having a good ol’ time. They walked back towards the river, the lights of the steamboat casinos lighting up the skyline. His question caught her off guard, but she merely gave a thoughtful look and considered it. “No. I haven’t really had a reason. I mean… we moved there to be safe. So that Eowyn would be safe. Everyone I care about, ‘cept for Gram, is there. But I mean… I suppose maybe… one day… if I had reason to move I would.” Faye didn’t know if he was asking just to be asking, or if he had a particular reason for it. It made her only a little bit leery, because what if he had been thinking of moving away? Surely he wouldn’t? Not now at least.
The thought made Faye frown a bit, and she looked away off towards where they were passing Jackson Square. There was a man leaned against the statue that gave the Square it’s name. A man Faye recognized. She paused, so struck was she to see that face, and nearly let go of Fane’s arm to move towards him. But a horse-drawn trolley passed between them, and when it had moved on, the man was gone.
It all happened in the course of about ten seconds, and Faye immediately started walking again, thinking she was still drunk and seeing things. That being back here was making her paranoid.
“Quiet is nice,” she added, looking back at him. “I like quiet.” Though that niggling feeling stayed the base of her spine. And she couldn’t shake it as they walked on.
He maintained the very little distance between their bodies as they walked having taken her hand loosely in his own both swinging loosely between them. He was happy to take in the atmosphere of the city, vastly different to that of Soapberry at night at heart he always had been a city person; being drawn back to the bustle of life and people from all around the globe hurtling through their daily rituals. Especially at night, more nocturnal than anything even before his turning Fane was drawn to nightlife like a moth to the flame it simply struck and interested his nature more. Plus, who could deny the potential a kaleidoscope of culture and booze would be for a night of fun?
Perhaps it was this that explained his question, his urbanite nature but also a memory from the prior night- him working at his laptop whilst rain trickled down large open windowpanes looking over the Parisian night, Faye with her head in his lap stretched out reading and a bottle of wine open nearby. The glimpse struck him as peaceful, quiet and blissful in its pure simplicity away from the stress that sometimes came about with living in a small community of people. “Mm, yeah I know what you mean but don’t you find that for all it’s supposed nature as a safehaven… There’s not been much safety there at times?” He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye and gave her hand a squeeze, Fane knew Faye well enough to understand her fears associated to this question but he felt inclined to ask her anyway, “I’m not asking for any reason… just curious if the thought had ever crossed your mind that’s all.”
But there was a sudden pause and tenseness about her that struck him as odd, and Fane’s gaze skimmed in the direction she’d just been looking wondering whether it was something he’d said or if there was something else at play now. Or maybe she’d just been looking at the square? But why would a square make her tense as she had? “What’s wrong?” he edged closer when he voiced the question lowly not quite sure what to make of her behaviour as she picked up their conversation despite the pause. He recalled her behaviour earlier in the night and glanced back to the square as they resumed walking feeling a little uneasy as they walked.
Faye liked the nightlife as much as anyone else. She’d grown up here, and had lived most of her adult life in an apartment above the bar, so she was no stranger to the lights and the bustle and the noise. But Faye preferred quiet. She wanted to sleep next to an open window on a cool spring night, hear the crickets and the wind in the trees, feel the warm press of her lover at her back, the fluttery sighs of her daughter as she slept in her crib. She didn’t know of any city she’d been in where she could find that. It didn’t mean such a place didn’t exist, merely that Faye didn’t know of one. The memory that swept back into her mind was of fields of lavender as far as the eye could see. Dogs and chickens chasing after Eowyn as she ran through a spacious yard surrounded by trees that looked ages old. She and Fane lying among the sea of purple, on a blanket under the setting sun.
“I s’pose nowhere’s completely safe,” she agreed, though a bit back-handededly. “At least there we don’t have to worry about Hunters and people that don’t know about us.We don’t have to worry about hiding. Though it comes with it’s own troubles, you’re right.” She squeezed his hand back. “It has. From time to time,” she told him with a small warm smile.
And then just like that the mood shifted. There was no way she was hiding the sudden pause, or the way her breathing was held tight in her chest, or the thrum of her heart as it sped up. She felt him step up behind her, though he didn’t let go of her hand, for which she was grateful. After a few more seconds staring at the space where the man had been, and letting her eyes shift around the areas of the Square she could see, Faye shook her head. “Maybe nothin’.” They started walking again, though this time Faye held Fane’s hand loosely in her own, instead of the firm grasp of her fingers that she’d had earlier. “I thought I saw someone.” Faye let out a heavy sigh. “I thought I saw him earlier too. At Morgana’s.” Faye side-eyed Fane to see what his reaction might be. “Thought it was just my mind playin’ tricks…” She shook her head, but kept walking. She didn’t say much else, the streets getting less well-lit as they headed out of the Quarter and back into the larger part of the city.
Faye had been casting out with her magic as they walked, little clouds of gray swirling from her hands here and there, like she held a cigarette no one could see. Someone was there, about a block behind them. Faye slowed her pace, pulling Fane into the small inlet of an alleyway between two tall buildings. “Kiss me, and make a show of it,” she said, giving him a look that said he needed to please trust her in this.
“I guess it’s just wishful thinking to think that one day we’ll finally manage to find a place where we can simply be without having to be afraid of persecution or some haywire magical shenanigans.” Fane agreed idly a small breath escaping him as they walked.
But soon enough the both of them were occupied with something else, something different ad Fane wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. His step to close the distance to her was deliberate; shielding her back with his own body as his free hand went to lightly touch her waist as a secondary point of support casual enough but also serving to further block her back should anything come up behind them. After all, despite all her power that he fully respected she was still mortal at the end of the day. The admission of having thought she’d seen them earlier at Morgana’s made him huff clearly not particularly pleased by this admission but not blowing it out of proportion despite the fact that there could have been a little more warning. “You should have said something… If this ever happens again promise me you’re gonna tell me right away the moment you even for a second feel like something’s wrong” his words were uttered under his breath solely for her to hear. There was no malicious intent behind them, simply a request to not shut him out on something that might potentially be important. He’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime by now.
Whilst Faye spread her magic; its colouring barely discernable in the darkness of the night and streets Fane merely kept his senses alert. Mindful of anything that struck him as odd or out of place though that was one issue with a city; there were thousands of noises all blurring over one another that made it near impossible to truly detect just one thing. As Faye slowed he came to a stop eyeing her questioningly but understanding her ploy almost immediately, it was his trust that already existed in her that allowed him to immediately follow her wishes without needing to stop and question.
With a tilt of his head he prowled nearer, backing her into the wall whilst one hand grasped her hip tightly seemingly pinning her there the other curling around the nape of her neck. It was a hold she could duck out of if needs be but still convincing enough, “‘m not sure I can wait to get you home after what you did to me earlier” he drawled easily letting his desirous nature slip into roughening his words. He ducked his head drawing her into a fierce kiss that was a clash of teeth and tongues in a passionate collision that to any onlooker would make them appear like any other horny couple fuelled by a night of booze out on the streets at this late house and if he was being honest only a part of it was truly an act.
He heard the passing footsteps, but Faye had asked him to trust her and thus he led her take point on whatever went down next.
“Maybe one day,” Faye said. “Que sera sera, right?” And she meant that, her smile hopeful as she looked up at him.
Though as he stood at her back, whispering low enough for her to hear him, she frowned. Not at him. But at herself and the situation, whatever it might turn out to be. “I didn’t feel like anythin’ was wrong,” she said a bit sheepishly. “I mean, okay yeah, I got creeped out a bit earlier, but nothin’ that was worth spoilin’ the night over.” Faye sighed, knowing he was right. “I’m sorry. I shoulda said somethin’, even though it wasn’t a big deal.” And she would have, if it had been someone other than the man she thought she’d seen. She would never shut him out; she’d promised not to. Promised to always be honest. And she had been. There were just… things… that she wasn’t ready to tell him yet. Things about her past. About who she used to be. And if the person potentially tailing them was who she thought it was, those things might come to light faster than she’d like.
Much, much faster.
So when Fane backed her into the wall, as good as it felt - Christ it felt good - she did her best to keep her eyes towards the dark street outside the alley entrance. Even when he kissed her - God he was fucking distracting and she was nearly undone enough to say fuck whoever was following them - she tried to keep an ear out, and listen to the magical threads she’d left in their wake.
Sure enough, footsteps, heavy and booted from what Faye could tell, walked slowly down the sidewalk. Faye broke the kiss, one hand directing Fane to her neck so she could get a clear view. His hold was one she could slip out of easily, and the moment the man’s face passed into view - a face she hoped never to see again - Faye huffed out a sharp breath, and felt anger and fear rise up in her chest. She cast out a hand, and tendrils of shadow like ribbons of oil shot out like rubber bands and wrapped the figure bodily in their embrace. He cried out, cursing and tried to run, but the shadows had him.
Faye moved away from Fane, the hand controlling her magic swiping sharply to the left. The bound man slammed hard against the brick wall of the alleyway, grunting at the impact, and Faye strode towards him. He looked stricken, and his bald head gleamed dully in the low light as he struggled against her. She walked right up to him and wrapped a hand around his throat. The bindings tightened. The man let out another grunt, glaring down at Faye with wide-set dark eyes over a broad nose and a long jaw.  
“You have five seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re following me, Shane, or I’ll squeeze the life out of the useless sack o’ skin you call a body before you even have time to shit on yourself.”
The man called Shane, for his part, grew very still, though even Faye’s hand around his throat, or the murderous look in her bright violet eyes couldn’t deter the smirk that crept over his face. “Thought them rumors was bullshit, Faye. That’s you’s back in town. I said… naw. Not Faye Benoit. She bounced a long time ago. Why… last time I seen her was after we-”
“Shut. Up.” Faye said,slamming the man’s head back against the wall. “I told you to stay away from me. I told you I was out. Done. That if I ever saw you again after Chicago I’d fuckin’ kill you myself.” Faye was livid. She hadn’t been so angry in a long time. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you?” she growled, slamming his head a third time.
Shane winced and gave a pained, angry look at Faye, though it seemed he was smart enough to knock off the bullshit. His nose started to bleed just a little. It dripped down his chin and onto Faye’s arm. She paid it no mind. “Maybe ‘cause that feller there might not wanna help you commit murder.” His eyes shot to Fane who was still standing behind Faye. “Unlike me, ‘course.” He grinned, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth.
“You fuckin’ cunt…” Faye spat, though there was fear and a bit of anguish behind her words this time as the shadows followed her silent commands and squeezed tighter. A capillary in Shane’s left eye burst, and half his eyes bled red as once more Faye let her emotions take hold of her actions.
There wasn’t much they could do now, if this was the situation they were in then… Well, they were just going to have to deal with whatever was coming but a little warning would have been nice either way. Either way he merely sighed, lapsed into silence and continued walking until their staged rendezvous in the alleyway letting her guide him down to her neck and as fast as they were together in the next moment she was slipping from his grasp and Fane heard the rattle of some trashcans as their tail was pinned like a prize up to the wall.
Faye seemed to vibrate with unbridled rage, it was a side to her he’d never seen. He’d seen her fear take control and manifest itself as determination but this was… something else entirely and he found his eyes going to study the man at the wall. Nothing exceptional, but he wasn’t too bad appearance wise but his words set Fane on edge. Still, he hung back trying to figure out what the fuck was going on because Faye hadn’t given him much to go on. They clearly knew each other, but the blaring question he didn’t have the answer to was how or why. But it had to be bad if this was how Faye was reacting.
Shane’s smirk earned a slight grate of his teeth but his potential explanation was interrupted by Faye slamming his head into the wall and his lips twitched a little in frustration. Like she was trying to… hide something or stop him from saying something. But to see her slipping here, to reduce simply to threatening murder just because she felt threatened? He wasn’t sure what to make of that beyond a slanted uncertainty about what parts of Faye he’d truly seen so far.
The explanation came soon enough and Fane’s lips thinned into a bloodless line, his head snapping to Faye as the man’s eye bled red. “Faye,” he snapped tone short the name rolling off his tongue on a harsh chastisement. Movement came to him then brushing past Faye where she trembled and vibrated spitting venom at this merc or whatever he was. Reaching up through the coil of shadows his fingers laced around the man’s thick neck his enhanced strength making little work of ripping him out of the coils and tossing him down to the ground like a ragdoll a shined shoe smoothly finding itself pressed over his jugular with just enough force to make the man claw and gasp struggling to escape. Fane opted to ignore him peering over at Faye “go down there and get your shit together.” He waited giving her a look that brokered no argument and with that said he looked down at Shane who by now realised struggling wouldn’t get him anywhere out of this situation, “now, point one fucker you don’t know me and one thing you should definitely know about me is that I don’t take none too kindly to people around me being followed.” He eased the press of his foot observing passively as the man sucked in and wheezed for the air he’d been denied trying to smirk through this but found the foot near immediately replaced by Fane’s hand.
Crouching down Fane hovered over Shane leveraging him to the ground whilst he spoke, his threatening tone slipping into something else, honey laced temptation and conviction that dripped with absolute charisma but barely spoken more soothing suggestions for Shane to hear. His words were softer now, enticing him to speak the truth “you don’t want this to hurt do you? No… of course you don’t. It doesn’t have to be this way,” Fane could sense every attempt of a barrier each failed blockade trying to get in the way of the compulsion but with his age and experience in the matter it was like swatting an irksome nuisance out the way picking right where he left off. “You want to tell me don’t you hm? Go on Shane, give in to what you want, what you desire tell me the truth about why you’re looking for Faye, about what happened between you. Not too loudly hm? Just between you and me.” Perhaps it was unfair but right now his mind wasn’t on what was just or right or wrong simply on trying to figure out the pieces of this puzzle. Faye’s attempts to conceal whatever this was is what got them here in the first place and if he was going to have to get them out of it without there being even more bloodshed here tonight he was going to have to understand as best he could. “Now, I’m going to lift my hand off now. You’re going to stay right here hm? And tell me everything no moving or I’ll have to hurt you… and neither of us really wants that do we?” Another shake of Shane’s head was earned and with that Fane gradually lifted his hand to allow the other man to spill whatever he had to say.
Fane never liked using compulsion, never would and a part of him felt guilty about manipulating the situation but he needed the truth and this was the quickest way to get it. He kept an ear out listening to what Faye was doing but maintaining a fixed point on the man here.
For the second time in the last month, Faye heard Fane call her name in a voice that she knew she couldn’t argue with. Both out of respect for Fane and because it was the type of tone that broke her out of her haze of anger and fear. Made her think. But thinking about this was the last thing Faye wanted to do. About the possible reasons for this man… this fucking guy… of all people to be back here in New Orleans at the same time as her. And what he had to say wasn’t something that Faye had lied to Fane about. It was simply a part of her that she hadn’t felt like dredging up at this point in their relationship. And she meant dredge. From the very bottom of the deepest, most terrible part of who she had been before coming to Soapberry. Who she had been forced to become. Who she’d had no choice to become.
Faye’s magic fell away as Fane took charge, tossing Shane to the ground and grinding a foot over his neck. A part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, it would turn out okay. And then Fane was looking at her, his gaze burning into her - not quite angry, but perhaps getting there - as he told her to go and get right. It was the first time he’d ever spoken to her like that, and while it wasn’t cruel, it was most definitely a reprimand. And a sharp one at that. Her face showed the slight sting of the words, but she swallowed back her fury and her stubborn pride, wiping at her eyes before she lowered them and took a few steps back before turning and walking off down the alley.
When she was far enough away that she could hide herself in the shadows but still see what was happening, still hear it, Faye paced a few times before collapsing to a squat against the wall, and burying her face in her knees. She curled her hands over her head and tried to breathe. Because Shane would spill everything. And he would make her out like she was nothing but a cold-blooded killer with no remorse, no rules, no honor. And maybe she had been. Maybe Fane needed to hear it from someone besides her. Maybe this was meant to happen.
Que sera sera, right?
Back at the front of the alley, Shane wheezed nodded as Fane spoke to him. His pupils dilated under the vampire’s gaze, and his body went a bit lax. “I heard she was in town. Knew her years ago, ‘fore she left after her coven got killed. We fucked once. It was nice. Knew her later, after that fucker she used to run with looked me up in Chicago. Heard I was a merc. Wanted in. So I let him. Lotsa folks needed killin’ up that way. Lotsa folks down here still need killin’. There’s just a lack of folks willin’ to do it. So like I said, heard Faye was in town. Wanted to see if she was still in the business of huntin’ down folks what deserved killin’. She was the best I knew, back in Chicago, and I know a lot of folks that would kill anybody for the right price. Not Faye though,” Shane grinned, almost like he was proud. “She’d never kill just anyone. She needed a reason. And a good one. That fucker she run with though, he’d take on almost anythin’ long as he could get paid. I think it was mostly his fault she got involved. Was a shame almost. She was a real nice girl when we was younger.” He seemed to drift off for a moment, but then snapped back. “She got real mad at me last time we spoke. Turns out she was gon’ be a mama, can you believe it? Didn’t want no more part o’ that life. Not one bit. And well,” Shane shrugged, “I wasn’t real nice about it. So she told me if she ever saw me again she’d turn my insides outside and make me eat my own asshole.”
Shane looked up at Fane, eyes wide and compliant, almost like a really big, really dim-witted dog. “Did I do good?”
Fane was sure there were bound to be reasons why Faye had kept this from him, no doubt about it, but it didn’t mean he appreciated finding out this way either. Even if the circumstances were outside of her own control, his rising ire at the situation could have been avoided if she’d just trusted him enough to clue him in. At least before they came here of all places.
But no, now Fane after what had likely been the best night he’d had in a while found himself crouched over a mercenary being told about yet another dark chapter of Faye’s past. Perhaps he should have let her tell him herself, but a part of him needed the assurance that it wasn't just the bits and pieces of the story that made it out to not be the worse case scenario. Not that he thought that Faye would do that, but self-preservation was a human condition; integrated into their very being to try and maintain the relationships with people that mattered by downplaying certain events or vice versa overplaying them. He trusted Faye, he did but he would never compel or forcibly get her to tell him these things. That was a line in the sand he would never cross and hadn’t so far.
So as Shane started speaking Fane merely hovered over him, listening and studying his expression and body language for any sign of deception or a lie. But none clued out, and ultimately it seemed that it was indeed the truth he had received. Taking a long look at the merc he huffed out an annoyed breath as he finished and asked whether he did good. Stupid fucking twat. Fane didn’t bother rewarding him with an answer instead gripped the front of his shirt and yanked him up to eye level once more. His pupils dilated before shrinking summoning every ounce of his innate ability and lacing them into his next words. “You’re gonna forget this ever happened, you’re going to forget my face, my name, you’re going to forget Faye Benoit entirely if anyone asks about her you don't know. If you even hear a mention you aren’t interested and you are never going near her home, place of work or anywhere near her ever again.” Rounding off he dropped Shane to the alley rising up to his full height before stepping over him. “Get the fuck out of here and pray I never see you again, I’ll only be merciful once this time.”
He heard rather than saw Shane scramble off his mind turning over the facts of what he’d learned, pulling them apart and putting them back together a piece at a time. He approached Faye where she crouched cautiously stopping in front of her and bending down, reaching a hand out he paused before touching her shoulder steadily despite his present uncertainty. When he spoke his voice was back on a more level platform no measure of compulsion now present. “Faye, we’re going home c’mon.”
Faye couldn’t hear what was happening at the top of the alley. She knew Shane, and she knew he would spill anything Fane asked him to spill. And he’d spin it out of control. Try and make things more than they were. And because of one stupid mistake, one thing that she truly, honestly hadn’t felt needed mentioning, now they were here, and Faye was freaking out in a dirty alley after she’d nearly killed someone.
Why did this always happen to her? This night had been nearly perfect, and then because Faye had never thought in a million years that the past she’d left behind in Chicago would come back to find her here, in New Orleans, she’d seen no reason to mention anything about it.
There was a scramble of shoes on pavement, and Faye just pressed her hands harder over her head, gripping her hair as she listened to another set of steps come closer. Fane’s footfalls, she knew.
She didn’t flinch when he touched her, but neither did she move. “Why? What does goin’ home matter now?” Faye looked up, but couldn’t look him in the eye. Her makeup was smudged, and her eyes were puffy from crying. But the desolation on her face was the most apparent. Like she’d just lost what was most important to her in the world, and she knew she’d never get it back.
“He told you, didn’t he? About Chicago?” Her voice was dull and lifeless, and she stared straight ahead for a long moment before finally pushing to her feet. She wiped her eyes, but still couldn’t meet his. “I was going to tell you. Just… not like this.” Faye started to step past him, figuring she would just walk home alone. Because alone was how she would end up anyway. It was always how she ended up.
“I’m sorry Fane. I thought… I thought I’d have more time.”
“Your family matters now, your gram, your daughter” he shifted from a bend to a crouch his hand tucking into his sleeve and pulling it down so he could dry her face off. It was clear that she was taking this hard and her lack of ability to meet his eye hurt. But Fane had done what he needed to do and at the end of the day that was all said and done now. No going back and changing the past… only dealing with the present and the future.
The change in her was so drastic, and it was so paramount that his concern for her well-being… his concern simply for her took precedence over anything else he was feeling. He knew this was hard for her, it was visible in how she sank into herself but he wasn’t willing to let her regress from the progress she’d made. “Yeah, he told me” he said quietly shifting as she did to stand in front of her. Faye went on to try and explain herself he shook his head, hushing her softly and raised a hand to press a finger to her lips. The act was overly gentle a silent display that she didn’t need to talk to him yet “I know,” he reaffirmed “but life likes to screw us over when we’re least expecting it…”
As she started to step past him Fane reached out catching her arm and pulling her back in front of him. Drawing her back to him he looked at her through dark seemingly fathomless eyes. “Well, I know now… there’s nothing to do ‘bout that but I never took you as one to give up so easy Faye” there was nothing accusing in his words more a statement of fact. Faye had gotten through worse than some bitter truths and her reaction he summarised was likely one of fear and self-preservation from more hurt. His other hand lifted to touch her face soothingly much like the many other occasions throughout the night falling to her arm before sliding down and taking her hands in his own. 
“He told me the truth of it as far as I know and from what I heard it sounds like it was Chris that got you involved in it for the most part…” he shifted their hands to tip her chin up. “Hey, look at me” he insisted waiting, hoping for her to look up “I have… thoughts and questions… ones that I won’t lie… I will need some time to think over… But if you think this will scare me off you don't know me very well.” He held her gaze for a long moment trying to convey that he wasn't planning on running. “You still have time… I'm willing to give you more time. You know I’m never going to force you to talk to me but I hope you realise that I’m in this for the long-haul. Good, bad, everything in between” he waved his hand vaguely “I can’t promise I’ll always understand why you’ve done the things you have but I’m willing to give you the time to explain them to me. I’ll always give you time.”
Hoping he made his point clear he gently pulled on her hands to get her to start moving again keeping her hand loosely laced in his own, “think on it, don’t rush to explain now but… I want to hear it from you when you’re ready to tell me.” With that he lapsed into silence as they walked.
The stubborn urge to pull away was strong as he wiped her face, but the need to be touched by him was overwhelmingly stronger. She must look like a mess. She sure felt like one. The sheer happiness from earlier bleeding away in the face of her fear and her anger. And now her shame. How could Fane even touch her, knowing what she had done?
Faye huffed, sniffing back tears. “Bet he couldn't wait to spill about all the things I did back then. Or his version of what I did. Bet he had a grand ol’ time makin’ me out as some sorta villain.” She hadn't heard the conversation between the two men, so she didn't know it was Fane's compulsion that had gotten Shane to speak the truth. And that he hadn't painted her as a heartless killer. A killer, yes, but not the sort Faye thought.
She huffed. “Life loves to fuck me in particular. Especially when I'm happy. So…” Faye shrugged, disheartened. What else could she say?
But he reached for her as she tried to move past, and Faye stopped. She let him pull her back, but still didn't look up, keeping her eyes cast down. They fluttered, and her chin trembled slightly as he reached out to touch her face. God, she wished she could still feel him like before. But as she made herself keep looking at him, she didn't see anger in his eyes, or revulsion. Confusion, questions… even a bit of disappointment maybe. Or maybe Faye was just seeing things that might make her feel better.
“How do you know it was the truth?” she asked. Though what he said next made her jaw tighten. Faye nodded. “Yeah. Initially. Shouldn't have let him, but… I was past the point of caring what happened to me at that time in my life.” Her eyes fell to their joined hands. Until his fingers tipped her chin. Only then did she look at him. And only because he asked.
A sad smile crossed her face, and she squeezed his hands, her eyes falling shut momentarily. “Don't make promises you can't keep, Stefan.” Her use of his full name was something that she rarely did, and then only to convey the seriousness of what she was saying. She wanted to believe him and she did…. but a small part of her still waited on him to eventually leave. To fall into being like everyone else she'd ever loved, even though she knew in her heart that he was nothing like them. That he was different. That he was a good man and felt deeply for her. And she ad no doubt Fane already understood the seriousness of the issue at hand, and Faye would tell him everything. And she would believe him, as best she could, when he said he wasn't running.
“I'm not askin’ you to understand,” she said gently. “I know you can't always. I just… that's not who I am anymore. Not for a long time. I don't think that's ever who I was. Not really. I just… followed. Did what needed doing to make it through the day. Doesn't make it right. And I believe you.” That he was in it for the good, the bad, and the ugly. “But I'm scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking over the word. There were much darker things associated with that time of Faye's life. Things besides what she had done. Her state of mind for one. And Faye would tell him about that too. But not here. Not standing in a dirty alleyway. So when he promised her time, she nodded gratefully, and they lapsed into silence as they started once more for home. Faye was glad for his hand in hers, and it was that, and his words that she knew in her heart to be true, that kept the tiny flame of hope that flickered in her chest from guttering out completely. 
Fane had swore the night he’d returned that he’d do his best to give her no reason to cry, and seeing the gleam of wetness in her eyes made his heart ache. “Nothin’ of the sort, I don’t think you’re a villain” Fane continued to take his time wiping away the tears until they gradually began to slow.
There was no way he was just letting her walk away from this, from him, and his grasp was secure and determined in its placing always maintaining that small point of contact between them. A silent sign that despite everything he was still here with and for her just as he’d travelled all this way in the first place. He wanted to try and understand but that meant he had to think about what he was going to ask before he did utter anything.
Her inquiry into how he made Shane tell him the truth made Fane’s lips twist a bit, “I used my compulsion, and that’s an ability that only gets stronger with age and time… I can be pretty… convincing when I choose to be.” The look on his face showed his distaste over the ability, taking away someone’s free will was one of the basest form of torture and power abuse in his mind but sometimes you had to cross certain set lines for the sake of finding out the truth of a matter.
The sad smile and pressure she applied to his hands was an indicator that they were taking a step forward, “you know I don’t make promises that I don’t intend to keep. I am not going anywhere, you hear me?” he reaffirmed staring at her seriously. “And I’m going to keep on telling you that, keep proving that to you ‘til you get it in that” he raised a hand to lightly press her forehead with his index finger “goddamn stubborn skull of yours that I really am all in… That’s not me saying I’m going to excuse it or justify it” because what justification for murder is there really? “But, that being said I can’t judge you for having killed people… Because I’ve done it too” under different circumstances sure, but the point still stood. Fane had never let himself take a person’s life without a reason even if that reason was as base and twisted as revenge but he’d done it regardless and he carried those weights much as she did. Her weights might be more recent in terms of her lifespan, sure, but it no less diminished the heaviness and self-loathing that came with sinking to such levels.
“D’you think I’d still be stood here if that’s who I thought you were?” Fane pointed out once more levelling out her complexities to something more simple, something that she could grasp onto and understand. “D’you think that I look at you and see you as solely a killer?” he posed to her but answered the question himself, “no, I don’t. I see a history of pain, grief and anger that have tempered and strengthened you to steel, I see a woman who has endured hardship after hardship ‘til you were left standing here with me today… I look at you and I see a survivor, one that’s struggled, battled and suffered… You might never have taken up the mantle of serving your country but that doesn’t make you any less of a soldier and what is every soldier but a survivor at the end of the day?” His own emotions and experience gave the weight to his words, to make his point that he saw her not simply as one thing but a culmination of so many other things good and bad all included. “But of course you’re scared, every survivor is scared but sometimes the only way to get over that fear is by turning to confront it and when you’re ready I’m willing to help you do that.” He only blinked when he finished speaking giving her hands another squeeze to absolutely reaffirm what he’d said, it was easy for him to slip back into the role of support to set his hotter emotions aside for the rational and calmness that ruled him.
They were walking eventually, leaving the darkness of the alley behind but the weight of the event hanging over them back. In his silence he pondered over the revelations himself, Faye had admitted to killing a man before they’d left on this trip and he’d managed to understand that. Fane had no doubt that there had to be a reason behind why she’d done what she’d done and it was for that reason he was willing to let her explain when she was ready but first he’d need some time to process everything with a little space.
The walk continued silence until they reached the track road, the beautifully decrepit building coming into view as they walked, letting themselves in quietly so as not to disturb the other occupants who would no doubt be asleep by now. “You should get washed,” Fane suggested softly when they reached their room immediately starting to change out of his clothes needing something more loose than the confines of his clothes for whatever came next. A wash would cool her down and help to clear her head after all they had both had to drink through the night and it would give him some time to try and get his own thoughts straight before she further explained that is if she was going to do so tonight.
To hear him say that he didn’t think her a villain made Faye’s chest tighten. She didn’t think she could bear it if he did. And he wouldn’t lie to her. If he thought she was abhorrent he would have said. Wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t say things just to make her feel better? Just to spare her already shredded feelings? No. No, Fane wouldn’t do that. They’d promised.
Faye sank a little bit as he confessed to using vampire compulsion, her face twisting into something like anger but more like shock. “You compulsed him? Before you even asked me to explain? Jesus, Fane…” Faye’s head dropped heavily, her hair falling across her face. But she didn’t try to pull away. Instead lifting her head and looking off down the alley as her jaw muscles jumped as she tried to decide how she felt about it. In the end, it didn’t matter. At least a compulsion would have gotten him the real truth. Instead of a truth made up by a waste of humanity like Shane. Faye sighed. “No… no, of course you did. I don’t blame you. I might’ve done the same thing in your shoes.” That wasn’t supposed to make Fane feel better, as forcing someone to do anything against their will was - in most cases - abhorrent, and they both shared that thought. It was merely to let him know she wasn’t angry at him. Not really. How could she be?
Especially not as he continued, stubbornly  declaring that he wasn’t going anywhere. A genuine smile touched her face as he poked her forehead. But it fell as he admitted to taking lives as well. Though Faye highly doubted their experiences or reasons were the same. Fane had been a soldier. Faye had just been… an eliminator. But all in all, perhaps six people had truly died by her hands. And all deserved death in Faye’s mind: child traffickers, rapists, murderers and kidnappers. But did that truly justify it? Probably not. And her eyes conveyed the sorrow she felt that he’d had to go through such a thing.
She let him continue on, shaking her head when he asked if she thought he’d still be here debating with her in an alleyway if he thought she was nothing but a heartless murderer. That he likened her to someone like him, someone who had fought and struggled and given bravely of themselves… Faye felt her heart swell. Because the people who saw her, who really saw her, were few and far between. And while Faye knew that Fane wasn’t perfect - there were things about him that irked her, things they’d argued about - God she loved him so much.
More and more with each passing day. And that’s what scared her the most. That she’d let that love have free reign, and not held it back other than keeping the words to herself for now. And if she lost him… she didn’t think she would survive another heartbreak. Especially not the heartbreak of losing her other half. Because that’s what it felt like. Like in that cheesy 90s movie, Jerry Maguire: ‘You complete me.’
He offered to stand with her to face those fears, and Faye could only nod. There was nothing she could say to even compare to what he’d just said to her. So she leaned up and bussed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering long enough to brush her nose gently along his, before they started the walk home.
She followed Fane up to their room, standing next to the bed without moving for just a moment. When he told her she should get washed up, Faye nodded, grabbing her pajamas - her usual cotton shorts and t-shirt - and closing herself up in the bathroom. She pulled her clothes off slowly as the tub filled, letting the glamours she’d kept up for most of the night fall away. Scars and bruises appeared in a shimmer of magic, and Faye stared at herself in the mirror for a long moment, trying to see past the outside and find the woman that Fane saw. When she couldn’t, she turned away and stepped into the tub, letting the hot water rise over her and wash the day away.
If only it could take the past with it as well.
His expression grew a little defensive as she questioned his actions drawing a little straighter and merely giving her a slight look somewhere between disbelief and simmering ire that she was choosing to judge him over that after what he’d just learned. He half expected her to pull away, but she didn’t and it left him looking at her steadily. “I did what I felt was right. Nothin’ more to it than that. He’ll have forgotten you too, your name, your face and mine so...” he wouldn’t be a problem again, was essentially what Fane left unsaid. You’re bloody welcome.
The point he had to make was that he didn’t absolve her of her sins, didn’t hold her accountable to them but also was willing to go through them and view her efforts now measuring them up against what he knew of her history. Fane had no sort of intention to go anywhere, as long as he had the truth of it now then there was nothing more she could try to push against him to try and make him behave like everyone else in her life. All the people who’d left ultimately because of one reason or another and he was digging his heels firmly in the ground to stop her from succeeding. Because as he was realising more and more on this trip he didn’t want to leave, because as he was gradually coming to realise his feelings ran so much deeper than simply caring. That was terrifying. Because the thing about love and feeling on top of the world was that there was so far to fall from there and the damage often felt irreversible.
Whilst Faye went to the bathroom Fane sought out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, stepping out onto the balcony and lighting up the soft orange filter a beacon in the darkness of the evening. Normally he would have offered to help her wash up, but they both needed some space right now. His shoulders drew back as he inhaled filling his lungs with the comforting pressure of smoke and breathing it out watching it dance and fade in the evening breeze. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there mulling over everything, but eventually he pressed his fingers into his temple rubbing small circles there feeling a pressure that felt somewhat akin to a headache growing there. Eventually Fane pushed off the bar he’d been leaning on, leaving the bedroom to go to the kitchen and rummaging around for a couple of glasses and jug that he filled up with water.
Bringing them back he set them down on the bedside table figuring Faye would probably do best with some rehydration after the drinking they’d both taken part in tonight. He returned to the balcony leaning there until he heard the familiar click of the lock and the rustle of fabric when Faye reemerged. There were no words of greeting or welcome simply silence; a silence that perhaps said more than words could, it spoke that he was here and he was listening and that if she was going to tell him things that now likely would be the best time to do that. Fane would more often than not give her the first word he much preferred settling back to listen before he jumped in.
It was only Faye's fear that had caused her to question Fane's actions. And her hatred of Shane. She knew he had done what he thought was right, and who could blame him considering the information that he'd just been given: that his girlfriend had once been a mercenary. Of a sort. It wasn't exactly something to be taken with a grain of salt. More like the whole damn shaker. So as he continued, letting her in on the fact that he’d basically wiped Faye from existence when it came to Shane. So Faye's features tightened as she reigned in her own misdirected ire. She looked away, nodding once in acknowledgment of what he'd said. Later she would apologize for how she acted. For snapping at him. But right now she was just grateful he didn't pull away, that he didn't let her pull away despite her stubbornness.
She spent longer than she should have in the bath, partly avoiding the coming conversation, but partly lost in thoughts of what that year and a half had been like. She remembered the shitty apartment that her husband had weaseled his way into after Faye refused to use her magic to get them someplace nicer. She remembered sitting in the bath much like this, except the acrid scent of a half-smoked joint filled the damp air, and not the smell of lavender. She remembered the blare of the tv from the other room, the loud laughter and complete disregard for how she was feeling that had drifted through the closed bathroom door. She remembered wishing she could just sink under the water and never come up.
She didn't feel like that now. It had been a long, long time since Faye had had any sort of depressive episodes. And she didn't plan to start. Was she scared? Yes. Did she think Fane would think less of her after she told her story? No. Not really. Did she want to tell it regardless? No. But she needed to. She had to. She owed it to Fane. He deserved to know everything.
When she came out of the bathroom her hair was still damp. It fell in dark waves down her back, wetting the back of her tshirt as she eyed the water for a moment before taking a sip. She then followed the smell of cigarette smoke to the balcony, helping herself to one and lighting it with a flick of her hand before folding herself into one of the deck chairs. Her knees pulled up under her chin, and she stared out into the night for a long time before finally speaking.
“I never killed anyone until the man I told you about. The man that tried to cut my throat. After that…” Faye shook her head and ashed her cigarette. “After that I sort of… shut down. For a long time.” She paused, waiting to see if he had any specific questions before continuing.
They had promised one another honesty, the absence of that tonight had led to a situation that could have perhaps been better handled had it not been so. It could have gone far worse than a mere confrontation in an alley and for that he was thankful but there was nothing more to be said and done about that now. What was done, was done. They would simply have to deal with the ramifications now.
Fane silently recalled the rush of power that came with killing, he’d done it enough across several wartimes to know the heady almost addicting feeling of bloodlust. He’d never given in to it in the sense of feeding, and in a way it would have almost been excusable if he could claim it was merely his starvation that drove him to take another’s life. Unfortunately, he couldn’t claim starvation to be his reason. Revenge however? Yes, that had been an entirely valid reason where the occasion arose. Though by giving in to such emotion it still equated to a conscious decision, a decision he’d made to deliberately remove another individual from existence. But it had been near enough seventy years since he’d made any decision like that.
He wasn’t sure where he was going to start with his question, plenty rattled around in his head but he sensed her presence; the faint scent of lavender clinging to her skin, the beat of her heart and the warmth that seemed to radiate from her every moment he was with her. His head shifted marginally in the direction of the creak from the old furniture as she settled herself onto it but not properly turning to look at her yet. He needed his focus and not looking at her provided him some measure of clarity.
Fane remained looking out over the gardens as she spoke, not making any move to acknowledge what she said merely listening to her. The silence seemed to stretch out into an eternity as he took a drag from the burning stick causing it to glow brightly before fading. “How long ago was that first one? How long ago was your last?” he asked around breathing out the smoke his head tilting back to peer up at the moon, it was as good a place to start as any.
Faye was glad when he finally asked his question. And she thought about it briefly before answering. “Five years? Maybe six now? I've been in Soapberry for just over three, spent a year or two in Chicago before that. And then just drifted before that. It all runs together. But… the last one?” Faye thought again. “Maybe a year after the first? Eighteen months? There were only five.” She paused, chewing her lip as she debated on telling him about the three in Soapberry.
Finally, she did. “I killed three sirens when Wyn was a newborn. They killed my friend, Iann's wife. They nearly took me too, but she was human, and couldn't fight them off. They ripped her right outta my hands and drowned her.” Faye's voice was strained with the memory, and she wiped at her eyes. “I ripped them out of the water and crushed them with my magic.” Even now she could feel the warm spray of seawater and blood, and see Iann carrying the tiny lifeless body of his sweet wife. She could also see the fourth siren. “My husband took the fourth and locked her away in our shed. Chained her and kept her there. I don't think he ever hurt her, but he wouldn't let her go. Once I convinced him to, I wiped her memory of her time there, changing it so she'd think we had helped her. I couldn't risk my daughter’s life if her pod found out.” The words were flat and dull, and Faye stared straight ahead as she said them.
“I think we started to slowly fall apart after that. When I wouldn't do what he wanted. Or maybe it was years before. In Chicago. There were others Shane found for me to kill. But some didn't deserve it. They were innocent. Or just ignorant. I always made sure. I always used my magic to see into their minds to make sure they deserved punishment. The five that ended up dead did deserve it. One trafficked supernatural children. One was a serial rapist. One sold young boys and girls into the sex trade, and that was after kidnapping them and addicting them to drugs first. One was an ex-Hunter who ran an underground fight club. Pitted humans and other hunters against people like us. The last one… he ran a torture ring. Capturing supernaturals, drugging them with Purge, and letting people pay to hurt them. However they wanted.” She ashed her cigarette again, her body stiff and tense. “Do you want their names? And how I killed them? Because I can tell you every single detail. I'll never forget. I don't deserve to forget.”
When she answered he tipped his chin down onto his chest, leaning on the bar still to look down at the gardens below as he mulled the information over. “So all in all a year or thereabouts?” he clarified the muscles in his shoulders shifting as he adjusted his positioning ever so slightly. But then she went on to speak of Iann, and he’d failed to mention that particular fact in their last conversation. Hanging his arm a little over the rail he closed his eyes as he added this to the growing list of things “I knew about his wife, knew you were there that is-- didn’t know about your role in all that though.”
If there was one thing he particularly didn’t agree with it was taking people captive, and that particular fact was perhaps the one that took precedence despite the genuine severity of the others. “And you didn’t try to stop him from doing it? What was the point of that? Why would you let him take someone captive without having any purpose to doing it in the first place?” Fane asked his tone a little sharper regarding this matter in comparison to their discussion of killing. His views were rather skewed on these particular things, strongly biased against taking people captive with no ultimate reason behind doing so in the first place. There was no part of him able to comprehend what the point of taking someone captive simply for the sake of it would be, unless you were trying to keep them safe from something or trying to learn something. But what would Chris or even Faye for that matter have to gain from a siren? There had to be some sort of reason behind it, but it seemed as though there was none. Or perhaps it was revenge, but Fane had no idea if that was the case. Either way his own personal experiences with the topic of captivity coloured his views and explained why this in particular pushed him in a more negative direction than generally taking the lives of bad people or those who hurt the ones you loved. Faye eventually let the siren go, with an altered memory at that but at what cost?
Faye went on to elaborate about each of the people she’d killed and Fane made a slightly disgusted sound at the things they were involved in, the fact that she made sure they were truly guilty of the things they were accused of made it a little easier to comprehend. The passing mention of the Purge caused him to shift again raising a hand to rub his ear a little uncomfortably but nothing too overt the act would be viewed as out of place. “Sometimes I fucking hate humanity, I mean who the fuck is depraved enough to… And to kids?” Fane uttered distaste colouring his words whilst he stubbed his cigarette out on the metal railing shaking his head with a small tsking sound that showed his disapproval. “Fucking twisted… Frankly a part of me says good riddance and I hope they burn in the deepest layer of hell for doing shit like that” Faye offered to tell him how and he ran his tongue along his teeth as he debated eventually coming to a decision. “Might as well whilst we’re talking about it and tell me why you even went along with this in the first place. Dark place or not why’d you go along with all of this?”
“Thereabouts,” she answered flatly, doing her best to just tell the story and answer his questions and not let emotion cloud her thoughts. Though underneath she was trembling with fear. And with regret. She shook her head as he spoke of Iann. “He wouldn’t have told you. Not his part of the story.” And she left it at that.
“I was a bit preoccupied with the death of my friend and my week old daughter to notice,” she said with a bit more bite. “And I didn’t let him do anything. I didn’t know. Not until almost a week later. I remember him… dragging her by the hair. I remember her screaming and cursing at him. I thought… I thought he was gonna kill her. And in the moment, after what I’d just seen, after what I’d lost, and after what I’d just done, part of me wanted him to kill her. I never thought that he would-” Faye closed her eyes, a minute shake of her head the only indicator that the memory was affecting her outwardly. “I found her in the shed, dehydrated and terrified. And his plants they… they wouldn’t let me near her. He got angry when I confronted him about it. Said I needed to mind my own business and that he’d do with her what he wanted. I told him he should’ve never brought her there. And eventually I convinced him. With her memory modified, both for our safety and to erase the… trauma of it from her mind.”
Faye took a long drag of the cigarette, the cherry burning bright in the darkness of the balcony. She blew smoke out through her nose. “I’ve hated humanity for a long time, I’ve not seen near as much of it as you have. Makes you a better person than me I s’pose.” There was nothing in her voice but flat fact. Fane had seen war after war after war, and if he still held any sort of faith in the human race, or the supernatural, he was by far a much better person than Faye. She could only nod in agreement at his remark about hoping they burned in Hell. “If there is a such thing as a merciful God, any God… they’ll get what they deserve for eternity.”
Her legs shifted a bit tighter under her chin, and Faye wrapped her arms around them before propping her chin up. “Dimitri Franco, child trafficker: I cut his throat. Police came and got the kids. Took ‘em back to their families. Robert Johnson, rapist: I cut off his cock and shoved it down his throat; he choked to death on it just before he bled to death. Paul Bernadino, sold teens into the sex trade and got them addicted to heroine; I pumped enough of it into him that he died pretty quick. An anonymous tip to the police got all those kids out safe.”
Faye took a deep, shaky breath. It had been a long time since she’d been forced to revisit that time of her life. And it made her feel like absolute shit. But she was almost done, so she pressed forward. “Danielle Scapario, fight club owner. I drugged her and tossed her in hers own ring after releasing all the supernatural he was keepin’ locked up. They ripped her apart. And the last one… was Alexander Chamberlain. Ex-Hunter turned entrepaneaur.” Faye scoffed in disgust, her thoughts clear on just what kind of man this Alexander was. “Purge was his favorite. It’s where I got the bit that I have. And the antidote. He called himself The Red Baron. Nice, right?” It was so very not nice. “He almost caught me, almost dosed me. There’s a little scar on my back where the needle cut through my shirt.” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “Him… he died with my hand wrapped around his throat. Screaming for his mother. The mind’s a powerful thing. Take control of it and you can find out a lot of things about people. Their secrets, their fears. He was afraid that one day someone would do to him what he let others do to supernaturals. So I made that fear a reality.” Faye ashed her cigarette again. “His heart couldn’t handle it.”
As for why she’d gone along with it… “I don’t know. I was… there was nothing left for me to care about. Not really. I couldn’t save myself. I couldn’t save my coven. So I thought maybe… maybe I can stop these people from hurting anyone else ever again. Maybe I was lookin’ for absolution. Maybe it was better than bein’ alone. Or…” Faye huffed through her nose, watching the ash disappear from the end of her smoke. “ Maybe I was just hopin’ one of them would kill me and save me the trouble.”  
It was the first time she’d ever admitted that out loud to anyone, that she’d wanted to die at her lowest point. Her husband hadn’t had a clue, never caring enough to ask about how she felt, only wanting her to do what he wanted. And when she didn’t, when Faye refused to kill someone, or let them go, he would sometimes go after them himself. He wanted the violence. He craved it.
Faye had just wanted it to all end.
In the most permanent way possible.
“How can you not know there’s someone being held captive in your shed? I mean,” he waved his hand a little his fingers curling into a fist as it dropped back down to the railing his body growing more tense with every second that passed “that’s right outside your house. That’s like...” he blew air out through his nose glaring at some invisible point out in the gardens with such intensity it might very well implode. It wasn’t very often that Fane projected on situations, but there was a part of him, a very broken and mangled part that he’d tried to suppress for seventy odd years that sympathised with this individual left in solitary confinement. Whether they killed a person or not, whether Faye wanted revenge or not there were few greater atrocities in his mind than being held against your will. He blinked hard as she said she didn’t know, his jaw tightening “so you didn’t notice him vanishing for however long? Didn’t wonder?” He was being unfair but the nerve had been tapped and he was getting worked up over the matter, but there was one question that came to mind and it seemed as though the agitation pooled into a deathly calm aura. Finally turning to peer at her, his eyes dark and piercing his tone steely “did he hurt her or didn’t you take enough time to notice that either? Just enough to remove the trauma of the event hm?”
His lips twisted a bit arms coming to fold over his chest in a closed stance, definitive and clearly not happy though his mind was drifting somewhere else. Somewhere he tried very hard never to let himself pass to. “Maybe, maybe not” his voice still held a particular chill to it Fane believed in people but humanity as a whole? They could go rot in the abyss for all he cared.
He leaned back as she started her list, listening and peering inside to their room the only sign that he was paying attention to what she was saying being the odd noise low in his throat or movement of his head to acknowledge her. No words left his lips, he didn’t need them. For the most part he really wasn’t thinking about what she had to say, he’d already heard enough to feel that ultimately these deaths were justifiable. Morbid though it might be. There was a sound reason behind them, and if he was being honest he’d forgiven her for such transgressions a long time prior to this moment here and now, that was no choice, it was falling in love but his mind kept coming back to this one solitary act, his own history making it hard to surpass and acknowledge like most of these other acts and deeds.
But what she had to say next made him finally blink, breaking the stare that for a majority of her time speaking had been fixed on a solitary spot inside the bedroom. His head shifted, gaze moving to her and eyes narrowing a little at the admission some of the chill receding and being replaced by the concern that tended to spark in him when she seemed low or sad. His arms tightened around himself momentarily debating what to say to that admission, what was there you could really say? “It never happens that way, no matter how much you hope or pray for it life’s a bitch that way” there was an odd look in his expression stuck somewhere between melancholy and present as though he spoke from similar depths of emotion without having explained the source of such understanding and comprehension. Most survivors of the events through which he’d endured were supposedly hungry for life, wishing to live every moment to the max and for a time it was true but with time there gradually proved to be a resurgence of such trauma after having suppressed it for so long.
Fane had been suppressing for seventy-two years, and apparently that emotion was starting to bubble up here and now. Finally, his gaze returned to her giving a short nod “but… sounds like they got what they deserved in the end either way…” That was no acknowledgement to it being the right thing to do, but that he understood more or less and accepted that perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all. It was in her past and she wasn’t going back to that way of life, so he’d work his way through it like he did with most other things.
“I told you,” she snapped back, finally showing more than just the numb facade she’d held onto since coming home, “I had my child and my friend to think about. I didn’t live where I do now. Our other house was further up the coast. There was a beachshed, shack, whatever… a good walk from the house. He took her there. I never saw her until I went looking for something.” She glared at him for a long moment before turning away again. “I stopped wondering where my husband went a long time ago. He disappeared for days at a time without a word. It’s not like I was going to leave my baby in the house alone to go look for him either. So no. I didn’t wonder.”
Something niggled at the base of her spine though. Something that didn’t sit quite right. The entire conversation and it’s way of coming to be was fucked, but something else felt off about things. But she didn’t have time to continue to think about it too deeply. Fane was asking more questions, his tone and the look in his eyes sending Faye looking away once more. She dropped her spent cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the little table by her chair. “No. He didn’t. That I did notice. And I took away her pain because she didn’t deserve to be locked up like that. I’m not-” A monster, she started to say, but realized how fucking stupid that would be to utter. How the words would be a lie if she ever told one. Faye was a monster. And had been reminded of it too often to think anything else.
She hummed a little to his ‘maybe, maybe not.’ Her way of answering without really answering. It would do no good at this point to debate who was the better person. Faye knew she couldn’t be. And what did it really matter in the end anyway? What had happened, happened. It was done. And nothing could change it. They would either get past it… or they wouldn’t.
His next reply though, turned Faye’s head without her doing. She looked up at him, and could see enough of his profile from the bedroom light to see the haunted look on his face. A low breath left her. He knew. Of course he knew. In four hundred years, how could he not long for death at least once? In some part of his life. The urge to go to him, to hold him close and tell him she was glad he was still here was strong, but Faye stayed put. She turned back to the darkness of the garden below, the dim glimmer of the greenhouse could be seen in the distance. Had what they’d seen there been real? Had what the Wisp given them just been a projection of what they longed for? If it had been true, or possibly true, then this too would pass. This strife between them. This digging up of some of the darkest oldest skeletons in Faye’s very large, very cluttered closet.
“Sounds like it. Yeah.” She was quiet for a long moment. “For what it’s worth,” she said finally. “I’m glad we’re both still here.” The words were quiet. Soft. Low and mixed with the sound of the wind rushing through the oak branches all around them.
“Did you wanna ask me anythin’ else?”
Faye clarified once more, but it only shifted his thoughts on the matter a little. He was stuck, and until he had a chance to detach and separate himself from the situation he would continue to be stuck on this particular topic. “Then what the fuck was the point of it? Who does that to another person?” Fane’s words had grown more rhetorical now, not expecting an answer from her on the matter. Why had the same thing happened to him? Why had he been targeted? His rank? Purely for his abilities? His species and nature? Was he picked because he was special or just because he wasn’t good enough? Clearly he wasn’t good enough in the long term considering he recalled fragmented conversations about disposing of him shortly prior to their liberation. He was lucky to be here, Fane was well aware of that.
He merely pressed his lips together as the air left her lungs with his words his chin dipping low with the admission. That wasn’t the only thing that had made him consider ending it all but it was certainly the most prominent and strongest crux. Returning to Soapberry had been his lowest point and he’d come close, but it was only at the efforts of his progeny that he’d rebuilt himself-- into the very person who roamed those streets now. The person who fed from the attention other people gave because it made him feel validated, made him feel like… well, like he was worth something after all that had been taken and humiliated out of him. His confidence simply tape holding the shards of him together in a complex 3-D jigsaw threatening collapse at any moment. He heard her words and made a low sound, somewhere between agreement and acknowledgement “yeah… so am I.”
“If that’s everything you think I need to know… Then no… I don’t want to ask anything.” He paused whilst he stood there debating what to say and unsure what to think feeling torn both ways. “I need to think ‘bout some stuff but… I’ll be back in a bit, don’t wait up if you want to sleep” there was no given time frame to how long he needed to think or when he’d be back but Fane knew he needed to clear his head. Pushing off the railing he let out a breath rubbing his hands over his face the pressure from earlier having returned in his temples as he stepped towards the doors pausing long enough to touch her shoulder a brief passing touch but enough to communicate a small reassurance. He would be back.
With that Fane departed heading to one spot in particular, sitting down on a wrought iron bench perched overlooking the pond in which the colour-changing fish swam in lazy patterns. Raising his hands to rub through his hair leaving it stuck up wildly he set his elbows heavily on his knees his eyes closed both in an attempt to calm himself and also to try and help clear the pound in his temples. The night had been so long, started off so well and now… He wasn’t sure what to think or do or say. Too occupied in the throb of his head Fane missed the sound of approaching footsteps entirely.
“There was no point other than he could!” Faye said, rounding on him from where she sat. “Other than it gave him an excuse to be cruel, to frighten someone, to feel better about himself because for whatever fucked up reason it made him feel like he was…” She cut herself off, breathing hard before she turned away again. “He wasn’t always like that,” she said quietly. “Not when we first met. He was always a bit of an asshole, but… he wasn’t always... bad. He was… troubled though. And I couldn’t see past my fear of bein’ alone to do anythin’ about it. Nothin’ that mattered at least. It wasn’t right. And I’m just as much to blame for not tryin’ harder to fix it.”
Faye didn’t know the thoughts raging through Fane’s head. If she had she would have tried to understand better than she did. She would have definitely understood why he was so fixated on the captivity of the siren, and not on the ones Faye had killed, or the five people before that. It would kill her when she found out, to think of him like that. To think of him being tortured and torn apart and experimented on just for being what he was. No one deserved that. Especially not the sweet, brave man she loved. But she was so overwrought, she was lucky to even form coherent thoughts, let alone think about the deeper part of anyone else's. That didn’t mean she didn’t notice the way his head tipped with the admission that he’d wanted to end his life at one point, or the look on his face after he said he didn’t have any more questions. Part of her wanted to scream, part of her wanted to cry, part of her wanted to beg him not to hate her.
Not to leave.
But she didn’t say a thing, just sat there and stared at her hands. She’d told her story. The ball was in Fane’s court now. She had to trust him to send it back to her once he was finished. Either that… or he’d tuck it away and go home. So she nodded, knowing that he needed time. She did too. Perhaps she would go to bed. Lord knew she was exhausted. But she didn’t know if she could stomach going to bed alone, knowing she might wake up that way. Or fearing she would.
“Alright,” was all she said as he touched her shoulder. Her hand raised briefly to touch his arm, feather light, her own acknowledgment of things unsaid. And he was gone. It was a long time later when that niggling thought finally snapped to the forefront of Faye’s mind again. The unease of why he’d been so worried about the captive siren. Faye tried to think, to puzzle it out. He’d killed before, at his own admission. He knew she’d killed. He’d even said they deserved it, in part. He didn’t go on and on about the terrible things those people had done, though his thoughts and his disgust were clear as day. He’d let the events pass as Faye had spoke of them, acknowledged and tucked away in his bank of information about her. And that hadn’t upset him near as much as-
Oh.
Oh fuck.
The realization hit Faye like an out of control freight train, her brain going into overdrive as it started putting together the bits and pieces she’d learned about him, and the evidence she’d seen on his body over the last several months. It hit her so hard that she felt it over her entire being. She nearly doubled over, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise of her anguish. He hadn’t been able to move past it because… because at some point in the recent past… the same thing had happened to him.
Jesus…
Faye couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She buried her face in her knees and sobbed. For the things that had happened to Fane. For the things she’d done. For the way she’d hurt him without even knowing. Because no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she loved someone, she would always, always hurt them in the end.
He would be a fool to stay with her now.
******
Down in the garden pond, the fish blinked and changed color lazily, unconcerned with the troubles going on around them.
beulah had sensed the strife going on upstairs, the wards trembled with it, but she had kept out of the way. It wasn’t her place to interfere in her granddaughter’s love life. Making sure Eowyn was still asleep snug in her little cot, when she sensed the vampire venture outside, she made her way slowly downstairs and into the pantry. He wouldn’t drink her moonshine last time, but maybe now he would want a sip or two. Not for the telling of truth, but because sometimes you just needed a damn stiff drink. And if she knew one thing about Marie, it was that the girl could drive nearly anyone to it with her stubbornness.
“Mind some company?” she called out as she approached, her dressing gown pulled snugly around her and her hair in a long wispy braid down her back instead of the bun from before. She didn’t wait for an answer before setting down at the opposite end of the bench, the extra glass between them if he wanted it. She sipped from her own, watching the fish swim and eat the bugs that fell on top of the water. “Marie loved these fish when she was little. I’d always catch her out here layin’ on her belly, reachin’ down in the water tryin’ to catch one. Now she knew she wasn’ s’posed to. I done told her that a thousand times, but she just kept on and kept on.” She took another sip of her drink. “One day… she finally caught one. Wrapped her little hand around it and pulled it right up outta the water. I was watchin’ to see what she’d do. For about three seconds she was the happiest child in the world… but then that little fish started gaspin’ for air. Fins flailin’, little body thrashin’ around in Marie’s hands.” beulah shook her head. “She was horrified, scared to death, and she put that fish back so fast that she nearly fell in herself. He was alright, but well… never fully recovered.” She pointed to a fish that was a pale white color, and didn’t flash like the others. “Lost his color.”
There was a beat of silence. “Marie’s got a big heart. She loved these fish so much that she wanted to get as close as she could. To show them how much she loved them. And when she did, when she finally had what she wanted most, she accidentally hurt it. By tryin’ to love it. Without meanin’ to. And without knowin’ better,” beulah added quickly. “But the pain was real. On both sides. And you can’t excuse that, can you? You can never say pain don’t matter. You can forgive it, even move past it, sure… I mean he still swims like he used to, still eats bugs, was eating food Marie threw to him a few days later, but… there’s always that reminder.”
The old woman didn’t know if her story made any kind of sense, or if Fane thought she was just senile. Either way, she sipped her drink and lapsed into silence.
Fane was adrift, his mind drawn back to the stinking scent of death and horror that hung on the air, the distant ring of screams that almost became a comforting reminder that he was still alive. One more day. Just one. Maybe they’d get out today. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Either way it meant one more day of being incoherently strapped to a plinth with his body ripped open and turned inside out, the scrape of every scalpel masterfully wielded and nothing but his own disassociation from it all to stop the pain setting every nerve in his body on fire as they were broken and forced to mend again and again and again. His body ached. The guilt he felt strife, why did he survive? What had he done to deserve to survive over so many others who… The thought alone made him feel ill.
Fane vaguely recalled fragmented images of a slightly built man with scarcely a hair out of place, tunic pressed and those dead gimlet eyes that still to this day made him shudder.
He almost jumped out of his skin as Beulah called out, too caught up in his memories to even notice her approach raking a hand through his hair he pressed his eyes closed for a long moment trying to pull himself together. “Can’t say I’ll be good company,” he admitted plainly not having the effort for pretenses right now whilst he sat, shoulders hunched; hands having dropped to hang between his knees in the arched forwards position. He stared at the pond rather than lifting his eyes to the old woman as she took her seat (likely regardless of whether he said yes or no).
His jaw wound tight as Beulah spoke of Faye and the fishes, watching them closely as they swam in almost hypnotic motions; oblivious to the strife that was going on in the world around them. He listened to her tale his head tilting to look over at the white fish where it swam a sad smile on his features as he looked at it. Eventually he reached for the drink she’d brought out, feeling the need to take the edge off his thoughts though instead of sipping it he took a large gulp. The liquid ran down his throat and warmed him immediately tingling through his senses but as the enchantment on the drink began to work; washing away any pretenses and facades to which Fane wore daily it left him to pull his knee up hugging it to his chest and pressing his face down against it in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. As though doing so would help him fade to oblivion, it didn’t work but the blocks he put on things he felt a long time ago were dissolving and it was enough to make him tremor in an almost negligible way. The guilt came crashing down after another swallow of the drink as Beulah continued to speak.
“She does it with people too” Fane mumbled after a little while of silence his voice suddenly thick with unbidden emotion and an accent thickly European that was unwilling to clear or shift. “You can’t excuse it but-- but if you love someone enough you can learn to accept it. You can find ways to try and accept it, doesn’t make it right but it’s what you do for people you love… You learn to forgive them with time.” Another small tremor ran through his body as he drew in a breath, his eyes closing only to snap open as images flashed through the darkness of his mind. “She didn’t know she was upsettin’ me… I couldn’t… I was unfair, always so unfair and undeserving of the things I have and… she’s angry. I couldn’t talk to her like that-- it’d only make it so much worse, I always make it so much worse ‘cause that’s what I do… I fuck up all the time and I don’t deserve the things I have… There are so many better people than me who, who should be here instead of me.” He laughed bitterly the truth flowing now that he’d started to speak; a floodgate opening that could hardly be stopped now til it ran its course, “I can’t even be a parent right. Can’t even tell my own kid how much they hurt me because I’m… I’m terrified ‘bout losing them again.” He could feel the sting of wetness threatening to spill, which eventually it did “I won’t…. I won’t survive losing them again and I know that’s unfair to say because I have Faye and so many other people but my daughter, my child. It makes me feel worthless and useless at something I finally thought… I finally thought I’d done right.” He shook his head rubbing at his eyes “I can’t lose Faye like that but… I’m terrified of opening that box because she’ll finally see that all this is… It’s not true. I’m not true… I’m just another number who doesn’t deserve to be here” whilst he spoke his hand raised to scratch at the inside of his left arm, over an area of silvery raised skin barely four centimeters in length.
On the balcony, Faye cried until she was wrung out. Until she thought there couldn’t possibly be any tears left. She was a terrible person. She always messed things up. Always destroyed her relationships eventually. Something must be wrong with her. She was flawed and used up. That’s why everyone always left. Because in the end they realized that Faye wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth their love. Or their time. She was damaged goods, and what good was she to anyone? Especially someone like Fane? Who had done so many good things over the course of his life? Who had been brave and selfless? Who still to this day would give more of himself to a stranger than most people would give to people they knew.
And someone had hurt him. Terribly and without remorse. And it was the little details that helped Faye start to string things together. The scars that Faye couldn’t quite wrap her mind around, one that was the result of some sort of trauma, the other done with surgical precision; the way he sometimes flinched when she touched him on that shoulder without warning; his fury at her over what she’d been a bystander to in the captivity of the siren.
Faye wasn’t stupid. Ignorant maybe. But not stupid.
Someone had held him against his will. And someone had hurt him.
And she’d just revealed that she was just like them.
How could he ever love someone like her?
God, she was so foolish.
A broken sob wormed it’s way out of Faye’s mouth, and she covered it with her hand before getting up and going inside. She climbed into bed, breath huffing with spent tears, and reached for the hoodie that Fane had left there this morning. The fabric was soft and warm as she pulled it to her, burying her nose in the familiar smell of him, trying to memorize it for when it was no longer hers to covet. After a long time, she fell into a fitful sleep.
*******
Down below, Beulah waved Fane off gently when he said he wouldn’t be good company. “‘S alright.” She didn’t require good company, or any company at all really. Being alone was something she’d grown used to. She was simply content to sit and wait. To listen if needed. And perhaps offer a word or two of advice. If needed.
When he took a sip of the drink, Beaulah took another one of her own. Though she watched with a slightly tipped brown as he drank it far faster than she would normally recommend. But who was she to tell him no? She didn’t miss the way he curled in on himself, a protective move that she noted before turning back to the fish.
“She does,” Beaulah agreed with a small nod. As Fane continued, she reached into the pocket of her house robe and pulled out a packet of Clove cigarettes. She lit one with a flick of her hand, just as Faye always did, and took a long drag. Her mouth tipped up at the corner as she blew out smoke, listening as Fane talked about forgiving the people you love. “If you love her, then you’ll find a way, this is true. We always do, don’t we? But…” she pointed at him with the two fingers clasping the cigarette. “That don’t mean you need to pretend whatever she told you didn’t hurt you. Obviously it did, or you wouldn’t be sittin’ out here with an old woman, ‘stead of upstairs with her, hm?”
She took another slow drag, blowing it out through her nose. “How were you unfair? Other than maybe she didn’t know the real reason why you was so mad at her? Marie is a lotta things: she’s goddamn pigheaded and stubborn, and reckless, and half the damn time she jumps and then looks where the hell she’s goin’. But she ain’t stupid.” A small chuckle rolled out into the night air. “Not talkin’ to her when she’s angry is prob’ly best, oui. Though I sense the same for you maybe, hm? It’s the Lion in you, the star sign you share. Though it’s a good thing your moons are opposite...” The smiled faded though as he went on. The old witch sighed. “We all fuck up, darlin’. Some days it seems like all we do. And maybe you’ve done more than your share, considerin’. And Lord knows there’s people better’n all of us who should still be here,” she agreed, giving him a pointed look, though not an unkind one. “But they ain’t. We’re here. You’re here. Don’t sully the memory  of folks passed on by not grabbin’ life by the balls and livin’ it for all it’s worth. The past is the past, and we can’t ever forget it because it made us who we are… but son…  you can’t move forwards if you keep goin’ backwards.”
His words about his child broke her heart, and her own eyes shone with wetness. Beulah turned towards him, reaching out and stroking a soft, soothing hand down his back. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’ve failed. To not want to hurt the one thing you love more than your own life. But sometimes… sometimes hurtin’ them is what needs to happen. Sparin’ their feelin’s at the expense of your own… sometimes it works. God knows we’ve all done it. But sometimes it festers. Turns sour. If this child of yours loves you, which I’m sure they do, then you need to be honest with them. Drop all the… Smilin’ Sam bullshit. Be angry. Be upset. Be furious. Be weary to your bones if you feel you need to. Because if you never say anythin’... if you never tell them how you feel… never let them in to see this,” She gestured at his current state. “Then how can you expect them to know anythin’ different than what they see? How can you expect them to change? To know they hurt you? And that... “ She pointed at him with her cigarette again. “That would be your fault.”
She saw the slid of wetness down his face, and her heart broke for him. “And why haven’t you done it right? What’s made you feel that way? Because they seem to have a mind of their own? Because they made bad choices? Didn’t listen? Because they were selfish and hurtful and didn’t think about how their actions would affect others? Would affect you? Because maybe they still don’t?” Beaulah shook her head, patting his back soothingly. “That’s the summary of every parent who ever raised a child to adulthood, darlin’. Don’t make it any less hurtful or frightenin’. But… talk to them. Be honest with your love, and with your own fears. They’ll understand. Or they won’t. But at least you’ll know you tried. It’s on them after that. Not you.”
She tipped his chin as he went on to talk about Faye. “You think Marie doesn’t already see you? That she don’t already know, or suspect, what’s underneath?” She shook her head, and small smile forming. “I ain’t never seen her look at nobody the way she looks at you, ‘cept that sweet baby in there. There’s love there, the kind that only ever comes once, if you’re brave enough to let her in.”
Beaulah looked down at his arm then, frowning. She reached out, not touching, but letting her magic tingle over the scar he was scratching. A thin line of black numbers shimmered into existence over the mangled skin. She recognized it for what it was, having known people in the past with the same markings. A small curse slipped out with her long sigh.
She let the spell fade away, not wanting to frighten him with seeing the numbers that someone had tried and failed to burn into his skin. Her other hand still rubbed up and down his back. “You ain’t a number. You’re someone who survived things most people would have let break them. Things that no living creature should ever have to endure. You’re here. You were stronger than them. You’re alive. They’re not. You carried on when you could have given up. That has to mean somethin’.”
Fane was unaware of the spell that the drink contained, though the strength of it was helpful in taking the edge off of everything he was feeling. Little did he realise that consequently anything he said would be free from falsities as well as the general appearances he tended to put on stripped back to his core being. Fane didn’t bother to take out or light up another of his own cigarettes, the taste of the one he’d had earlier whilst talking to Faye still lingering in his mouth. Fane remained where he was, still hunched over slightly. “I know, but it’s also ‘cause stayin’ there would’ve made it worse.”
Pressing his tongue against his canine he looked down at the water, “I took my feelings out on her when she didn’t even know what she did to make me act that way, which isn’t fair of me” he made a quiet sound of agreement “she isn’t… She’s smart course she is but it doesn’t make it easier to talk about these things.” A faint smile edged his lips as she made her observation about him and their signs a hand raising to rub his temple lightly “yeah, I’m not sure what would happen if we were the same for both a lot of butting heads.” What she said was exactly what he’d done his best to do but it didn’t mean that the traumas simply went away. “I try not to, but it’s easier said than done not to look back at times.”
Talking to Beulah was nice, if only for the fact that she could understand somewhat about how he felt… After everything he’d heard about Faye’s mother there was hardly anyone else who could probably understand more than her. “Faye said the same thing the other night,” he sighed knowing they were both were right but it didn’t mean it made it any easier to actually do it. He’d do it eventually but finding the right time? Considering how long it had been was harder to figure out. “I’m just not good at confronting stuff especially if it’s about how I feel, never have been. I’ve always preferred keeping peace than disrupting it.” It was a weak spot of his, avoiding matters that upset him than dealing with them head on- the present one being a prime example of that avoidance.
“It’s not that she doesn’t already see, but-- it’s one thing to suspect to know the real truth? It’s not that I’m trying to protect her Faye’s strong, stronger than most people I know but she’s been hurt so much that I don’t want to give her more pain to endure and carry” Fane admitted after a moment but grew quiet as Beulah spoke of how Faye looked at him. He smiled slightly rather pleased if he was honest hearing someone verbalise it, “doesn’t make it any less terrifying… But I’m trying to be open to these things, can’t help that I’m cautious by nature.”
He felt the trickle of magic washing over his skin and blinked hard as the dark ink grew more visible from where he’d tried to burn them away his mouth pressing into his shoulder when she cursed knowing she recognised what it was. The rub of her hand over the curve of his back soothed him, and a breath shuddered from him. “But, it did break me, there’s no greater meaning to it… But it’s why… why I am the way I am.” He wasn’t sure whether it made any sort of sense, but it was the truth.
Raising a hand he rubbed it through his hair with a shake of his head, “sorry, this probably wasn’t how you wanted to spend your night” he murmured feeling bad that this was how her evening had gone. Even so, Fane drew in a breath and sighed “guess I should talk to Faye sooner rather than later... “ he knew her well enough to know that there was a point of spending too long away when she might start making assumptions about his intentions after everything that had happened tonight and Fane wanted to try and explain himself if she was willing to let him.
Beulah chuckled. “Probably. No… walkin’ away was a good idea. There’s fire in one of you and gasoline in the other. A bad mix when things get heated.” She ashed her cigarette. “No… it weren’t fair. But neither was you havin’ to find out about who she used to be like you did.” The witch gave him a look that said she knew about what had happened in the city. She had her ways. Though she wouldn’t go into any detail. It didn’t matter. “Though in the same vein things like that ain’t easy to speak about, you’re right. Some things take time. And she ain’t always the most secure person when it comes to relationships. Sees some fault in herself that keeps ‘em leavin’. That last man of hers…” Beulah made a disgusted noise. “I told her he was bad news. Told her I’d seen it. And I did. But she wouldn’t have none of it. Though I guess I got another grandbaby out of that whole mess, so I’ll just count my blessin’s there.”
She laughed once more. “Two Leos under the same moon would be the equivalent of a car on fire rollin’ down a hill out o’ control. Disaster.” She pointed at him, an amused look on her face. “You can literally count your lucky stars for that one, hm? But as for the past… it’s much easier said than done,” she agreed.
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wantin’ peace. You were a soldier, right? You should know more about wantin’ peace than most. Though sometimes to get there you gotta go through the trenches, hm?” She wasn’t trying to make light of anything he’d experienced or gone through, she would never do that, she just found that in terms of war - relatively speaking - or peace, life in itself could be very similar.
“Did you suspect things about her? Before you knew them? And then once you did you realized that you were glad you knew? That you were glad to be able to help her carry that weight?” She gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “Don’t treat her with kid gloves. You say you know she’s strong, so let her be. Let her carry your burdens just like you do hers.”
The smile that crossed his face, though it was small, made the old woman feel a bit better. “Oh, I’d be terrified if I were you,” she laughed. “My late husband, God rest his soul, told me on our weddin’ night that he’d never been so terrified of anything in his life as he was of me. Or well… as he was of me when he realized that I had my heart set on him. So caution is good. Caution is very, very good. For many reasons. Not just because it’s Marie. Love’s a tricky business it is. Best to keep your cards close to the vest ‘til you’re ready. Prob’ly why she ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout it yet.” She nodded and laughed to herself again, the drink they’d been sipping over the course of the last half hour making her relaxed as well.
She looked at him then, the faded violet of her eyes seeming to become darker than it had been a few minutes before. “But did it truly? Or just in that moment? And in those years that followed? Because the truly broken can’t be fixed. They’re lost causes. What happened to you made you this person that guards and shields himself from anythin’ that might ever hurt him. And you have every right to be that person. Every reason on God’s earth. But even a once broken thing, once pieced back together, can still resemble what it once was. You’re still that man who longed for life. For adventure. For knowledge. So much so that you gave up everythin’ for it. Did it break you, truly and irreversibly? Or did it change you? Do you still long for life? Knowledge? Adventure? Love? Or are you ready to set down your sword and armor and fade away?”
She waved off his apology. “I’m almost 80, darlin’. I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t wanna be.” She sipped her drink and turned back to her fish. “You go on and talk to her. She’ll probably have worked herself into a fit anyway, knowin’ her, and be sleepin’ it off.” Beulah looked up as he moved to leave. “Just be honest. You won’t be sorry.” And she turned back to the pond, leaving Fane on his own.
Faye had warned him about Beulah’s own opinions about Chris, though hearing it inself from her had him feeling a little better but she also made a decent point about Faye. One he’d also come to realise himself during the course of both their friendship and relationship; Faye’s insecurity over not being worthwhile, over the reasons behind why she was left being her own fault. It was something he was working to convince her otherwise but it was easier said than done.
“I’ve been a soldier many times,” he admitted with a small nod of agreement but once more she made an incredibly valid point of comparison one that he really didn’t have much to say or add. “I had my thoughts yeah, partly why most of what she said didn’t really come as all that much of a shock to me” Fane said sitting back finally seeming to start to unfurl from his closed position throughout the course of their conversation but again, the old woman cut to the heart of the matter once more. After this he was going to try and do exactly that, even if he had spent so long trying to bury these memories but Beulah was right… Faye had trusted him tonight even if she hadn’t initially been planning on doing so. She’d been honest with him and the only thing he could do was try and be honest in turn.
Hearing Beulah speak of her husband caught his attention, he’d never heard much about the man and found himself being left curious. “When did you get married? What about you? Were you afraid?” he’d never felt the inclination towards such commitments himself but it didn’t make him any less interest in other people’s decisions to commit themselves so entirely to another person. Scratching his ear his smile widened to a bit more cheerful “well, guess I’ve got that down then.”
He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet her gaze because whilst he hadn’t felt that way in a fair while it didn’t mean he hadn’t felt that way before but as he’d come to realise. The people in his life, the people he depended on had helped ease those feelings and replace them with a desire to stay-- a desire to come back despite the pain that returning brought and Fane merely tilting his head back. Beulah made everything seem so simple, but perhaps at the end of the day it was really that simple and all it took was something to point it out. To shine a light on the evidence that whilst a part of him still hurt over those experiences they no longer made him feel weighted or chained down. “I think I’m still trying to figure out what it made me but I do know that it’s been a long while since I have felt that way.”
She waved him off again much as he tended to do to other people when he felt they didn’t need to apologise to him though before he rose and went to leave he shifted a little unsure whether he could say what he wanted to next. But he eventually, went ahead and spoke “I’ve always wondered what it was like to have a grandparent-- I never knew mine I mean-- maybe this is kind of backwards considering the ages here but… Um, thank you… For listening no one back home actually knows about any of this...” Offering a more genuine smile he pressed his hands on his thighs drawing himself up and turning back towards the house. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
--------------
Returning to the bedroom Fane lingered in the doorframe looking over at Faye where she lay curled up in the bed that seemed to dwarf her tucked up frame and he felt his heart ache. The room was dark but Fane could see her clearly in the moonlight filtering through the window observing the slow rise and fall of her chest whilst she slept but knowing what he had to do he finally left the frame moving over to climb onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight where he knelt beside her. “Faye?” he asked the softness of his voice breaking the silence of the room whilst he reached out lightly touching her arm and shook her gently in the hopes of rousing her “Faye… Wake up. S’me.”
Beulah could have gone on all night about how Faye’s ex had been a dick. But she didn’t. He was gone. Fane was here. And all the better for it. On both accounts.
“Soldier never stops bein’ a soldier. Not really. Or so I’ve heard. It’s an honorable thing though, takin’ up that mantle for your home. For the ones you love. And I respect that greatly.” She gave a small smile. “I won’t ask why you suspected that of Marie, ‘less you’re just more intuitive than I thought.” She was glad that at least some things hadn’t come as such a shock to him. One emotional dilemma was enough for most people on most nights. So dealing with how he felt about what Faye had done to the siren, which in turn drug up ghosts that he’d tried to push away  for decades, was enough. But she hoped something good could come of it.
“Oh, I was a young thing. Seventeen, if I remember right. 1954.” Beulah smiled fondly as she remembered those days. “And oh yeah… I was terrified. He was older than me. Twenty. But the sweetest, most handsome boy I’d ever laid eyes on. I fell in love with him nearly the moment I saw him. And we had nearly thirty years together. He was human, see. Cancer took him when Marie was ‘bout… four? Maybe five? So she don’t really remember him much. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, sayin’ goodbye to him.” She patted Fane’s leg. “But I wouldn’t have given up those thirty years for nothin’. Even knowin’ what I do now.”  Another pat followed as he smiled and seemed to perk up a bit.
“That’s fair. Thing like that… they take time. Ain’t nothin’ important never did. It’ll come. Just have faith.” Feeling that the conversation was coming to a close for now, Beaulah didn’t say much else. But she did look over, tilting her head curiously at him. A slow grin spread across her face. “Well, consider me your surrogate gramma then. And you’re welcome, darlin’. Thank you for lettin’ me listen. I won’t tell nobody. Old witch’s honor.” She reached out with one wrinkled hand and gave his cheek a soft pat. “See you tomorrow.”
----------------------
Faye hadn’t been asleep long, and what sleep she did manage was restless and fitful. It was only the familiar smell of Fane that lingered on the hoodie that let her get any rest at all. She didn’t move as the bed dipped, nor when a cool hand reached out for her the first time.
It was only the second time he called her name that she sucked in a sudden breath, her eyes sliding open as she tried to orient herself in the dark. “Fane? Is… is everythin’ okay? Is Wyn okay?” In her sleep-muddled state, she was slightly confused at first, but after she blinked a few times she remembered the previous events of the night. Her eyes slid back closed for a long moment, and she didn’t make a move to close the distance between them, simply staying where she was. “Are you alright?” she asked, caring more about that than anything, even herself, at the moment.
If it wasn’t for his supernatural abilities alerting him to the signs that she was sleeping he might’ve thought that she was ignoring him, he couldn’t blame her if she was after how he’d acted earlier. Not the most sympathetic ear that he would typically lend but Faye had unknowingly hit a nerve that in turn had made him act in ways that he wasn’t proud of. So, he knelt there beside her until she roused and gave her a little time to get her senses.
“Yeah, s’me,” he murmured again not wanting to startle her “everything’s fine…” Kind of. But he could tell she was still out of it and so he waited for her to wake a little before he answered her posed question. “Yeah… yeah,” Fane assured her gently, using his touch to her arm to pull indicating that he wanted her to turn over so he could look at her “I…” he blew out a little air to give him some time to get his thoughts together into a more coherent order but lowered his eyes to look at her “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, it was wrong of me and… I shouldn’t have done or said the things I did.” He waited a moment before continuing not quite sure how to broach the topic, “you um... You wouldn’t know but you… inadvertently hit a topic that I’m not… comfortable with and I just want you to know that I’m not mad at you for it ‘cause you had no idea ‘n’ I’m not mad ‘bout your history… okay?“ It was a starting point but he needed her to know that he didn’t hold this against her first of all.
He drew his hands back, clasping them in front of him to try and stop the tremors broaching this topic raised as well as giving him a focal point to think and talk to. “This isn’t something I’ve talked to anyone besides my progeny about-- not even Dani knows, I don’t want them to know.” If that didn’t explain the severity of the matter then he wasn’t sure what would, Fane grew silent waiting for her before he would continue.
His voice sounded different. Maybe it was her sleep-cushioned brain, or maybe it was the quietness with which he spoke. Or maybe it was something else. Either way, the gentle pull of his hand had her turning over to look at him, pushing up on one elbow and moving just a bit closer. But she didn’t reach out to touch him just yet, not knowing what he was going to say. Or if anything had changed between them now. She barely breathed, yet her heart hammered in her chest. She felt like a live wire, on edge and trembling slightly even as she sat so quietly. And goddamn him for being able to detect it even as she tried to hide it.
Her face turned slowly to a frown as he started to speak, apologizing to her about earlier. “Fane… you don’t have to apologize to me.” And she mean it. There was more she wanted to say, but she waited, as he seemed to be building up to something else. And as he went on Faye felt her chest tighten as she remembered the pieces she’d put together. She hoped she was wrong, and that wasn’t the case, but something in her gut told her that she had hit very close to home. The tiny sense of relief that she felt that he wasn’t made at her about what her past held paled in comparison to the fear she felt tightening in her bones for what she could only imagine had happened to him. “Alright,” she said. “And… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. ‘Specially before we came here. I should have.”
As he moved on, revealing that not even his own daughter knew what he was about to tell her, Faye sat up. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she moved slowly, so that she was soon sitting in front of him, legs crossed. His hands trembled, and she reached out to cover them with one of hers. She wanted him to talk if he felt he needed to, to explain, but the last thing she wanted was for him to relive old traumas needlessly. But it seemed as if he was determined. And she wasn’t going anywhere. The look she gave him said that she would take whatever he was about to tell her to her grave. He was going to trust her with it, so she would hold it for him, help him carry it. No matter how terrible it was.
He didn’t have to do this alone.
“Someone hurt you. Didn’t they? A long time ago?” she asked gently, squeezing his hand and hoping that it might make it easier for him to say what needed saying if he knew that she’d already put the pieces together. At least partially.
Fane didn’t particularly want to talk about the troubles that he carried, they were a thing of the past but Faye deserved to know but to talk about these things he needed her attention, which meant he needed to be assured she was indeed listening to him. He sat quietly as she shifted, the covers she’d already stolen only wrapping more around her body as she turned and her features were cast into the pearly luminescence of the moonlight. His own features were half-shadowed from the angle at which he sat side-on to the window, he could hear her heart slamming away but he chose not to focus on that. He didn’t need to hear her heart to tell she was nervous about what he had to say.
“Yeah, well I say the same thing to you and you don’t listen t’me so... “ he shook his head making the point that he needed to do this-- he needed to apologise to ease some of his own guilt about how he had behaved earlier “I’m sorry I lost my cool, I promised I’d listen and… I should have done that better rather than letting my own feelings interfere with it… Because that hurt you, and hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do” getting that out was a start to what he had to say but he needed her to understand this first. He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to upset her but he’d managed to in a roundabout way do both tonight which made him feel horrendous. Her own apology was met with a small dip in his head, the bob an acknowledgement to her words “s’alright… Like you said, you didn’t know this was going to happen and that’s not the sort of tale you bring out on a whim… So, I understand. At the end of the day, it’s your history not your present and I’m not going to let that define the person I know you are now. Fane more often than not did try to focus on the here and now, it didn’t mean he couldn’t be biased against people’s histories but he tried incredibly hard not to be.
The downwards tilt to his head and chin that came with the admission that Dani didn’t know this particular fact about him combined with the thinned frown that curled his lips casting his features into sombre relief proved that this wasn’t easy for him to approach. She shifted to sit opposite him and his eyes lifted, looking at her under his lashes a little unsure quite how or where to start but Faye seemed to sense the disquiet he felt regarding this topic. He looked down as the warmth of her hands enclosed over his own and he smiled gratefully for the effort on her part but her words caused his shoulders to tense fractionally before they sank with a slight sound of resignation from him. “Yeah… Hurt… I guess that’s one way to put it...” he stared at their hands for a little while.
“This is… hard to explain without giving you the history first. World War Two and Hitler’s rise to power essentially came about due to the combination of the American Stock exchange collapsing in 1929 triggering the economic depression, America called in all of its foreign loans-- which essentially destroyed the German economy.” Fane spoke in slow and measured tones, knowing that she was probably still tired and worn out but he needed to tell her this and the background was perhaps as important as the actual story itself.
“Unemployment rose and the leader prior to Hitler forcibly passed his measures to further cut wages causing many workers to look favourably on communism. Now, communism to many businessmen is a scary money-losing prospect, so with a government on the verge of collapse, your people on the verge of revolt what do you do when a leader of a seemingly organised and smartly dressed party turns up with a manifesto of what the country could be?” Fane paused, the answer rather blatantly clear “obviously they fund this leader. Hitler also had the resentment of his people regarding the Treaty of Versailles which held Germany culpable for their aggression in World War One making them pay reparation costs for that damage… Add on more scapegoats and propaganda to place blame for the state of their economy on? That’s the long-story short of how he eventually rose to power.”
History, now this was something Fane could talk about for days and his enthusiasm and interest in the topic and reasonings behind these events was evident in how he grew to be passionate in his choice of words and the inflection placed on them. It was that very same enthusiasm that made it easier for him to tell her these things because right now they were simply on the background facts. “You asked me once about my service… I told you I was involved in the North African Campaign... Which is true, I was-- it’s how Ryan became my progeny but… the story I’ve always told everyone is that after that campaign ended I came back here… I never give a date and people assume that war effort must have finished in ‘45-- the end of the war.” Fane’s eyes drifted back to their hands for a moment “thing is, if you research it that campaign ended in ‘43 and… there’s no record of my return to the states until ‘45. Truth of it is… I didn’t come back here after that Ryan did but I didn’t, I travelled from Tunisia to Italy to help continue the invasion there.”
Fane grew quiet, looking up at her hesitantly it wasn’t that he’d lied about this but he didn’t correct people’s assumptions regarding the matter. “Ask questions if anything doesn’t make sense, I don’t mind explaining.” For the most part this was simply the background dressing, to help try and get her to understand the political and cultural climate which even allowed the war to come about as a thing in the first place.
Faye dipped her head, a small smile tugging the edges of her mouth as he called her out. It was true, and she didn’t bother to deny it. Looking back up, she let him finish, and then nodded that she accepted - of course she accepted - his apology. “It’s okay. We can’t help what makes us upset. I know you’d never mean to hurt me.” There weren’t many things Faye could say she was certain of in her life, but the fact that Fane would never hurt her on purpose was one of them. He wasn’t cruel or spiteful, she knew. Glad that he wasn’t angry with her for not telling him about her past before they came back to the city, Faye relaxed, but only just. “I don’t want us to live in the past either, Fane. Mine. Yours. So whatever you need to tell me, it’s past. It matters, but it’s not who you are.” Her thumb brushed over his hand, silent support for him to continue.
Faye frowned too as he tensed, hoping she hadn’t made things worse in trying to help. But he seemed alright, as alright as he could be, so she just kept holding his hand, kept listening, her attention focused solely on him. Nothing else mattered right now. Only him. Only what he had to tell her. He began, and Faye followed fairly well, knowing as much of world history as the next person, but not the fine details. Some of it slipped past, and any other time Faye might have asked who and what and how, but she got the idea. Hitler was made out to be a Savior of the German people, and he eventually got the top job. She nodded that she was following, her frown easing slightly as he seemed to at least not have trouble with the retelling of this part of the story.
He continued on, and Faye jotted down the mention of Ryan, Fane’s progeny, in her memory bank. He paused, looking at her and prompting her to ask about anything she might not understand. There was really only one thing that tugged at her thoughts.
“Tunisia,” she said, nodding that she remembered him telling her about it. “It ended in what? ‘43? And then D-Day was… summer of ‘44? How long were you in Italy?” she asked, her frown deepening. Because here was where Faye’s trepidation grew.
Because somewhere in the span of time between 1943 and 1945, something terrible had happened to Fane. Something unthinkable. Something that even now raised the hairs on her arms as the ghost of it hung in the air around them. In the tremor of his hands beneath hers. In the tension of his shoulders, one scarred and set just the other side of right. In the hesitant look in his dark eyes as they reflected the moonlight streaming through the curtains.
Somewhere in those long months lay a terrible secret. A secret kept for nearly three fourths of a century.
Her assurance managed to gain a faint smile from him along with a minor nod that he knew that, but he couldn’t help but feel shaded by the experiences he’d lived through. Four centuries was a long time in which to experience both the wonders and horrors that the world had to offer from its vast array.
“Yeah, Tunisia.” The general background of everything was something he could talk about with relative ease, but they were nearing the harder parts; signified by the way he struggled to look up at her and how he fixated his attention on playing with her fingers. Faye was well aware that he had a tendency to fidget by now and this grew even more apparent when he didn’t like a topic he was on about: always brushing his fingers through his hair, rubbing or pulling at his ears or wringing his hands. With his hands occupied that ended up becoming a fidget of playing with her hands rather than his own, exploring the rough callouses on the pads of her fingers work worn but tender despite the battles they’d pulled her through.
“June sixth was D-Day and I was in Italy from July ‘43 to May ‘44...” She was right, the summer of ‘44 was where it happened. Perhaps the most life-altering experience of his life. His shoulders seemed to set; as though bracing for impact of an imminent collision which it felt like he was hurtling into on a nose-diving plane at a thousand miles per hour with no way out. “Your um-- gram, she did a spell” Fane took her hands with his right hesitantly pulling his left arm out and turning it palm side up for her to see. He pulled her hands up then to the flat-ish scarring three-centimeters in width and about four in length “I don’t know if you can do it-- see what was here?” His brows were pinched tightly whilst he waited to see if she could, if the spell worked a string of six numbers would appear in a hashed ink tattoo: 132256. He couldn’t meet her eyes as the numbers appeared his body wound up tight like a spinning top at the impending revelation hurtling up on them.
Faye listened. She listened, and she watched as he slowly grew more agitated, hands fiddling more and more with her own. She let him, doing her best to comfort him in the retelling. But the closer the timeline got to the inevitable, the closer he got to telling her about what had happened to him, the worse it became. Part of her wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to do this. That he didn’t need to reveal something so deeply personal and traumatic just because he had popped off at her. Faye didn’t care about that. She was already over it.
But another part of her knew that stopping him now might be worse. That if he didn’t tell her, if he didn’t open those gates and let out whatever it was that was affecting him so much, that it could be sucked back in deeper this time, and it might never again see the light of day. And then it would continue to fester and rot.
He tensed, and when he took her hands she squeezed his own tightly, letting him know that she was here. That she wasn’t going anywhere no matter what he had to say. He lifted them then, and Faye’s eyes drifted down to his left forearm. She’d seen the the little burn scar before,knowing full well what they looked like, but thought it something that had happened to him when he was human. It was innocuous enough at a glance. Nothing terribly large or gruesome. But as her fingers were drawn over the ridges, and as he elaborated that there had been something there at one time, Faye felt herself go icy cold. Her hand curled around his forearm, holding it firmly as she closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. Her thumb brushed his skin, trying to soothe a hurt nearly a century old.
Please, God…  she prayed. Please… not him…
But even now He didn’t answer.
Faye opened her eyes and her hand slid away from the scar, the tingle of her magic revealing the inked on numbers beneath.
Jesus…
She sucked in a sob, biting down on it as she cancelled the spell, covering the mark with her hand again.
The mark of a concentration camp prisoner.
Now Faye understood his anger with her. His hesitancy. The fear and anxiety that wound him tighter and tighter as he spoke.
And God she felt a fool.
But she didn’t release him, didn’t let go, didn’t pull back. She wouldn’t. Not from this. Not from anything. She continued to brush her thumb across his arm. If she could, she would pull the mark from his skin and he would never have to look at it again. He was tight as a spring beneath her hand, and the tension radiating from him was palpable. She turned to look at him, but he wasn’t looking at her.
If he couldn’t, then she wouldn’t make him. They would go at whatever pace he decided to set. This was his story, and Faye would stay until it was finished. She would always stay. The fingers of her other hand raised to touch his cheek, so lightly it might have been a breath of air, and she pulled him gently in, pressing her forehead to his temple. It was hard… so fucking hard… to hold back the words she’d been longing to say for weeks now. To not let ‘I love you’ slip from her mouth into the trembling skin of his neck. Because she wanted him to know. She wanted him to know so badly.
But now wasn’t about her. And telling him now, as deeply as he had sunk into the trauma of his past, it might be taken as simply a method to try and make him feel better. And Faye wouldn’t risk that. So in the end she locked the words away for a bit longer, knowing they wouldn’t stay that way forever.
“I see you, Andrei Alois,” she said quietly. “I see you, Stefan Savin.” Her hand gently turned his face so that their foreheads were pressed together, her nose brushing his. “I see you. And only you.” Not his scars. Not his past, his history, or the numbers he’d tried to erase from his body.
And though I love you remained only a thought, it bled through the card of her fingers in his hair, the protective curl of her hand over his arm. It was in the tears that slipped down her face for the terrible things that had happened to him. And in the words that said one thing but meant so much more.
“I always have…”
This was a particular tale that had already been left to fester for over seventy years because whenever his progeny tried to bring it up he shut it down immediately. Perhaps it was denial. A part of him unwilling to acknowledge the things through which he’d been put through for the sake of science, to admit that he was a victim and the atrocities he’d experienced. So Fane brought her hands to the scar, self-mutilation by his own doing to try and remove the evidence of what once existed there. His body felt numb, the old feelings and emotions leaving him feeling detached whilst talking about it. The brush of her thumb, with such genuine and pure intent was almost enough to set him off right there and then, he had to forcibly swallow down the sob that wanted to leave him.
He felt ridiculous. He felt pathetic. He felt guilty. Humiliated, debased and so many other negative emotions that all culminated in a boiling pot of shame.
That shame is what made him look down, because he didn’t want to see her reaction be it pity or something else of the sort because what else could he expect to see in a situation like this? After this sort of admission. He felt the wash of her magic moving over his skin, familiar and welcome despite how uncomfortable he felt in his own skin in that very moment. His eyes studied the bedding knowing what she’d see but feeling the pressure of her fingers curling into his arm and a shuddering breath left him.
Fane wasn’t sure what he expected, he knew she wouldn’t let go but whether she’d say something he didn’t know. So he sat stock still, barely moving under the brush of her thumb but his body despite its tension was pliant to her touch. The insistence of her fingers drawing him in until their heads touched, his tipping into the press of her forehead marginally and feeling just a little of the burden slip away a warmth settling in his chest that made it feel just a little easier to breath. Her words only served to make that feeling sink deeper, the cold press of this weight lifting with every passing brush of their skin but it did little to stop the thick feeling in his throat and the slip of wetness that tracked silently down his face.
Tipping his head he pressed his lips to her own, the kiss conveying what he didn’t speak aloud but felt better to show her through his actions. I know, just as I see you and perhaps most importantly of all I love you so much. He drew away, her presence giving him the strength to voice these demons that lay dormant and present every day and night. “I got taken, I-- can’t say how or why, all I know was that I was on a routine mission and then the next all I have are moments.” Every now and then when he spoke there were long pauses like he was trying to muster up the courage to speak. “I was strapped down on the train, dosed with… some concoction of herbs and chemicals I guess all I know is that I couldn’t feel my body” his features twisted a little raising to rub at his hair “there’s no way to put into words how it felt to not be able to do anything whilst they… They took everything from me-- hair, clothes every part of my identity… and replaced it with...” he gestured vaguely to where her hand remained curled over the scar.
His shoulders hunched his words dying again for a time as his head dropped, chin pressing into his chest. “I wasn’t put to work… I guess they knew enough that there was too much risk… They had other reasons for taking me.” The deliberate inflection on the word made his point clear and he drew away from her touch his arms coming to wrap around his body in a protective act “Mengele took me,” whether the name meant anything to her was of little consequence ���six months, I was kept there with other supernaturals for six months and so many… so many died from what he did.” Fane’s tone was bitter and dripping with hatred, a rare tone to ever hear him adopt but the loathing was so very clear in his absent glare at something and nothing all at once. “The things he did to us… Injected us, cut us open-- he carved my insides out, bled me dry, split my nerves ‘til I couldn’t feel a thing just to study how they healed… Just because he could, for science.” His eyes shone as he sat there, hugging himself more tightly though he raised a hand to press into the scar on his neck which ran the length of his spine. “All whilst I lay there and the only thing I could do? All I could do was scream for it all to end but it never did” there was a look in his eyes, similar to earlier when she’d made such a similar statement “over and over and over his own labrat… his own jigsaw ‘til he decided to Purge me.”
Despite the warmth of the room Fane felt stone cold and his voice grew more absent, detaching from the situation. “It didn’t stop, he watched me suffer and made his notes before he gave me the cure no matter how much I prayed for it to stop, for it to end and then… when I thought” his voice broke then and his eyes narrowed. “When I thought it couldn’t get any worse...” Fane’s agitation was growing by the moment and he curled his fingers into the material of his t-shirt “he took my finger, and when that healed he took...“ in his agitation he ended up pulling his shirt off in one violent yank knowing she could see the misalignment of his shoulders from where she sat “he took to butchering my arm.” He was shaking by the time he was done, mouth quivering, fingers pressing into the muscle tissue around his ribs having resumed hugging himself and staring at the bed the wet slide of tears returning heavily ‘til they dripped off his chin.
Many times over the past months Faye had wished she still possessed the ability to feel Fane’s emotional state through her magic. Right now she wished for it more than ever. Because she knew that even with what she could see on the outside, with the way he was slowly growing more tense and yet more withdrawn, shutting down in an attempt to be able to say what needed saying, that the inside was much, much worse. It always was. Having your will beaten away, your choices taken, having the most basic things that made you human - supernatural or not - stripped from you… there was nothing as humiliating or debasing. And for someone like Fane, whose very existence was based on his independence, his ability to choose how he lived his life, on his pride, and his reliance on himself in all things, there was no worse thing that could happen to him.
He would probably have sooner let them kill him.
And as much as Faye was glad he had survived, that he was in her life, she would almost agree. That death would have been better. If it would have saved him the pain. The humiliation. The trauma and the lifetime after lifetime of demons left scrambling for a foothold whenever life took a turn for the worse.
But Faye didn’t pity him. She would never, ever pity him. Pity was for the weak. And Fane was not weak. Faye would have told him that. Just like she would have told him he wasn’t being ridiculous, that he wasn’t pathetic, that there was no reason for him to feel guilty. They had hurt him. He had done nothing. Humiliation Faye could understand. She’d felt it too, day after day, hospital after hospital, pitying look after pitying look. Not that what she’d experienced was anything close to Fane’s past, but the empathy was their, in it’s basest form.
She felt him turn a bit towards her, glad that he wasn’t withdrawing completely. Faye felt the trickle of wetness over her fingers, and gently wiped it away just as he had hers earlier that night. God, she never wanted to see him cry. All she ever wanted was to see him smile, to hear him laugh, to see his eyes light up with joy.
The kiss was unexpected, but she pressed into it, sucking in a breath through her nose as something flared in her chest. Something that was just a little bit different about the way his mouth pressed to hers. She couldn’t place it, but she drank it down, letting it loosen the tight coil of tension at the base of her spine. He pulled away then, and she stroked his face one more time before her hands dropped back to his own, giving him space to speak.
The first thing she felt was pain. A bright spot in her chest that felt like a branding iron slowly being pressed harder and harder against her skin. When a pause would come, the searing pain would ease, only to be replaced again, pressing harder than ever as the story continued. But her hand never left his arm. Never left the mark that had changed his life forever. As if blocking it from his view might help ease… something. Anything.
Faye sat quietly, shifting a bit closer so that she could both hold his arm and rub a soothing hand over whatever part of him was closest. Letting him know there was no rush, and giving what small encouragement she could. Her movements froze as he dropped a name that was both familiar and foreign to Faye. It took her a moment, and her eyes went unfocused as she searched for where she’d heard it before. And when it finally slid to the forefront of her mind, she sucked in a breath, muffling a tiny pained sound from behind the hand she’d raised to her mouth.
“The Angel of Death…” she remembered him being called, not realizing she’d said it out loud.
Nonononono… not that…
A selfish part of Faye didn’t want to hear anymore, but she knew she had to. She knew it was vital that she let him finish, that she listened to every single horrible, nauseating detail of what had happened to him. The thought that someone could commit such crimes against another human. And that it had been Fane who lay on that madman’s table for… Christ in Heaven… six months. It might as well have been six lifetimes.
Faye thought she might be sick.
The tone of his voice would have been reflected in Faye’s own had she not sat quietly. She didn’t bother to wipe at the tears as they streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her jaw and falling warm and wet between them. She didn’t bother to hide the tremble of her hands, or the sobs that broke through her tightly pressed lips as the horrifying details emerged one after the other. The raising of his hand to his neck made Faye’s eye fall shut. So that was why. She’d seen the evidence months ago, and been curious. Never could she have imagined this.
She felt a wellspring of hatred like she’d never felt before spread inside her, overwhelming even the lifelong, teeming disgust she’d held for her mother. And if Joseph Mengele hadn’t already been dead, Faye would have gone to the ends of the earth to make sure he suffered in every way possible, every way that Fane had, and more, before she finally let him die. In this, revenge would have been sweet.
Already feeling like she couldn’t breathe properly, Faye was deliberately controlling each breath that came and went. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. Out. Because she might hyperventilate if she didn’t keep it tightly reined. Even now, all she wanted to do was pull him in, hold him and tell him that she would never let anything or anyone hurt him ever again. But she was too afraid that she might push him off that edge into true remembrance. Into a living nightmare that would be as real as the two of him sitting her now. So she only kept the press of her legs against his, and didn’t reach of him as his arms wrapped around his torso. He looked so lost.
But then… when she didn’t think it could get any worse, then came the crescendo.
Purge.
Faye had always suspected that it had its origins somewhere around the turn of the century. In the great wars. From what little records she could find, there was nothing dating pre-1930s. But for someone like Joseph Mengele to have such a thing in his hands….
Her thought remained unfinished as Fane’s agitation rippled higher, and his voice cracked and broke and then his shirt was off. Faye could see the scars in stark relief in the moonlight. The shoulder she’d rubbed the tightness out of so many times, the marred skin she’d touched and kissed and that she loved just as she did the parts of him that were flawless and whole. And now she knew.
Fane had been Purged, and the sick, sadistic bastard had… he’d taken Fane’s arm. Faye felt bile rise up in her throat, but she swallowed it back. The scars were the result of a botched attempt at healing. Faye could barely even process such a thing, even with everything she’d seen and done herself. She couldn’t take it anymore, her will to let him withdraw a bit if he needed to was gone. The way he curled into himself, looking lost and alone and frightened… she couldn’t watch him suffer and do nothing.
But she didn’t want to make it worse. “I’m here… I’m here, baby… I’ve got you...” she said, her own voice breaking past the raw tightness in her throat and the thickness of her own tears. She shifted slowly, reaching out a shaking, slightly hesitant hand to try and pull him in. He was so tightly drawn, like a bowstring waiting on release, that she didn’t know what would happen if she touched him. But she had to try. She wouldn’t leave him floundering. She couldn’t.
The utterance of that moniker. That name had him stilling entirely. He’d stopped breathing a while ago in his explanation but this name if he’d heard it would have set stopped him entirely. The name rattled him to his very core and every fibre of his body set as still as stone save for his fingers which curled into tight fists that bled any remaining colour from his knuckles. He barely registered her reaction, the face looming in his mind dwarfing all other higher cognitive functions. Fane’s eyes unfocused the room starting to slip away, the comfort of the mattress under him being replaced by the memory of cold, unforgiving metal. There was a small shake of his head which started minute at first but as past and present began to collide Fane hardly had any way to separate the two not even Faye was a strong enough anchor for him to latch onto.
To keep him grounded.
To keep him sane.
His tee was grasped in his hands as he made his final statement, but the tension with which it was grasped cut through the silence after he spoke until it sheared straight down the middle his fists breaking apart forcibly. Her voice might’ve normally been able to snap him out of these thoughts but the sheer weight of opening this door was like being attached at the ankle to a weight and dropped into the ocean. He was being dragged further and further down, his chest starting to move as his base instincts kicked into overdrive pumping air too fast and too hard. Sitting here felt like someone had taken scalpel and begun to scrupulously lay him bare for ancient horrors to attack once more.
Her attempt to pull him in was the breaking point, the point of no return and there was no controlling the almost violent reaction that came as a result. Wrenching away from her, eyes barely taking in his surroundings. No doubt he looked like a startled animal, and what did a frightened animal do when confronted with the possibility of threat or harm?
Bolt.
In an instant Fane’s body was up and moving, heading straight for the open french doors which led onto the balcony. His hands touched the rail serving to aid in vaulting up, over and down landing awkwardly but scrambling up and taking off once more head pounding and the sounds around him fading out to a white noise. The gardens were a blur, the greenhouse as he cut a sharp turn right. Fane’s bare feet pelted the ground as solid grass and dirt grew gradually wetter and sludgier running blindly into the swamps. The panic and paranoia gripped him in an iron fast clasp until the mud grew thick and jagged rocks cut into his feet ripping the soles open as fast as they healed.
He fell eventually, somewhere between the mud and pain in his feet, collapsing down to his knees as the sobs choked their way up his throat his palms pressed hard into the ground as he struggled to control his anxiety at its peak.
One moment Faye was reaching hesitantly out to Fane, trying to offer what comfort she could in the face of everything, and the next he was… just gone. There was enough time between the moment her fingers brushed his bare skin, and the moment there was nothing but empty air in front of her for her to see the sheer panic on his face. The fear. That look of something wild that had been caged and beaten and starved… it saw an opening and it took it.
And so did Fane.
Faye was left reeling, blinking and spinning around on the bed in time to see the curtains start to settle and the door moving backwards on it’s hinges. Jesus… he was running into the woods. Which led to the swamp. He’d get lost before he could slow down enough to even realize where he was. And then add that to his fragile state of mind…
Faye was up and moving then too. Out onto the balcony, taking a short second to look in the direction of where the back gate still swung in Fane’s wake. Throwing a leg over the rail, she grabbed a hold of the wrought iron railing and climbed down the twisting iron of the back columns, just like she’d done as a child. Jumping down, she took off at a run, following Fane’s trail, what she could see of it in the dark, through the garden, and out into the woods. She tossed out bluebell flames, and they rushed ahead of her, lighting the way once the canopy of cypress and pine and oak started to block out the moonlight.
Her legs were speckled with mud and pine-needles, and her feet were scraped and bleeding from the briars and the low brush. But Faye didn’t stop.
Goddamn he was fast… and her magic did little to help find him. But he still left a trail. Though every so often Faye had to stop, sometimes even backtracking, and finding a different way. Through pools of black water and sticky mud that threatened to suck her down if she wasn’t quick about it. All around, the sounds of the swamp clicked and burred and slithered, and Faye could feel eyes watching from the trees and from the water’s edge when she crossed close by.
But let them try. She was in no mood to be bothered by swamp magic, her focus only on finding Fane. Before something else did.
It seemed like hours before her efforts paid off, but could only have been a half hour, maybe a little more, and it was his sobs she heard before anything else. Great heaving cries of agony and despair. And it broke Faye’s heart into pieces. This was her fault. In part. But as she pushed out of the juniper and the scrub and the kudzu vine, and saw the defeated arch of his back where he knelt on the muddy embankment, all she could think about was him. About getting him home.
“Fane…” she called out quietly, stepping towards him, her footsteps silent in the wet earth. “You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to hide.” Sinking to her knees beside him once she could see his profile, Faye let the soft gray of her magic flow around him like fog, not holding, not even touching really, but letting him feel it and hoping that something in him would recognize it. Recognize her. She could hold him here if she had to, but Faye knew that if she bound him or held him against his will now… that he would never forgive her. Not for that. Not after what she’d just learned. She would never do that besides.  
So she stayed knelt in the mud, breathing hard even as she tried to control it and the rushing beat of her heart, her knees barely touching his own, and waited. Ready to chase him again if he ran. Ready to hold him if he was done running.
Ready to do whatever was needed to bring him home.
His mind was afog with too many things, sensory and mental input overloading until his brain simple short-circuited from the sheer number of things it was attempting to process. There was a reason why he never opened this door. A reason he’d left it firmly sealed and shoved down in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. That reason being he was afraid of what he would do, what he’d consider if he ever opted to unlock that again. The panic was a wild and real thing, something that shook him in so many more ways than he would ever be able to explain.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d knelt there, his fingers curling, clawing into the mud he’d finally come to fall down in. By the time Faye found him he’d sunk onto his haunches, his head bowed low and his hands against his knees. Had it not been for the mud clinging to seemingly every aspect of his figure half-bare from the waist up it might’ve looked like he was praying for something. In the time he’d spent kneeling there, he’d slipped his daylight charm from its placing on his finger grasping it in a tightly clenched fist that tremored occasionally muscles in his rotator cuff especially wound like he was some point between keeping it close and simply launching it into the undergrowth and being done with it because the mindset he’d slipped into was a dark and treacherous path. One he struggled to venture successfully.
It was the shadow of her magic, that some might consider ominous or threatening that eventually began to help him find a footing on the path back. The magic to Fane was as much a comforting blanket as his own hoodie tended to serve for Faye; much like it had earlier in the night when she’d bundled herself against it in the fear of it being her last ever memory of him after everything that had occurred tonight. That didn’t mean it was quick, the process was slow; a gradual transition from panic, fear, pain, grief to a state somewhere approaching something more stable. His chest began to steady and his eyes flickered around as though only just taking in his environment for the first time despite how long he’d been knelt here.
His eyes were puffy and red from the force of his tears and emotions, gradually spent on his directionless sprint when he finally did look up to her and immediately a guilt wracked up full force as the potential harm he might’ve put her in by running. He was swinging in so many different directions he could barely figure out which way he wanted to head, and it was when she settled that he stared for a long hard moment at her as though trying to decipher what she wanted. But Faye wanted nothing more than his own happiness, and that was a fact he knew in perhaps one of the most honest and trusted parts of his mind.
She was here. Now. She’d chosen him.
And that dawning realisation is what shocked him down from his spiral, causing his entire body to sag. If there had been more tears they likely would have run their course now, but he was tired and spent of all his energy and then some. He stared down at his fists looking almost abashed “‘m sorry-- ‘m so sorry-- I--” there was no explaining it and Fane struggled to form any sort of explanation for what had happened.
It took awhile, and her magic had rolled around them like a thick mist, nearly blocking out the reeds and the rushes and the black water of the swamp in it’s attempt to calm him. The whole time Faye sat quietly, not rushing, not pushing, just being there until he was ready.
He was filthy, but so was she. Both covered in a layer of brackish water and thick mud that smelled like rotting vegetation and things best left to the imagination. But none of that mattered. What mattered was the moment he finally seemed to settle. His breathing became less erratic, and the tension of his shoulders and back eased ever so slightly. It was still there, the pain and the panic and the fear, but she was making headway. Bit by bit.
When he finally looked at her, it almost broke her. There were so many things behind the wet shivering of his dark eyes. But what took Faye’s breath and broke the remainder of her heart was that he honestly looked surprised to see her. Like he hadn’t expected her to come for him. To chose him over her own feelings. Or over anything else.
He came back to her in a defeated, exhausted sagging of his frame, and Faye tipped forwards as he did, catching him and pulling his head to her shoulder. Her lips pressed to his temple. “Don’t ever be sorry, love… ever. Not for this.” Her hands slid down his arms, over his still clenched fists, and she gently curled her fingers beneath the tips of his, trying to coax him into taking her hand. Finally he relented, but Faye made a small surprised sound as something fell into her palm. She pulled just enough to look down between them.
His ring - the ring that contained his daylight charm - lay in her hand.
He’d taken it off.
Part of her wanted to rage at him for such a thing. But she knew what it felt like to want the horror to end. And caught up as he was in his panic as his blind fear, Faye couldn’t blame him for just wanting to make it stop.
And she thanked whatever God was listening that it was the moon that shone down on them and not the sun. Else she’d be weeping over ashes.
But she didn’t say a word, just clasped the ring in her hand, feeling the bite of the metal against her skin, before unfolding his hand and sliding it back in place.
She threaded their fingers once the ring was secure. Her other hand curved gently around his head, pulling him in as she pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m not ready to lose you yet.”
This, here, collapsed against her shoulder with them both soaked and muddied was not how Fane had seen this evening ending. Though there was hardly any way to predict this outcome as well. There was no fight left in him, not will to try and deny her because what point was there? There wasn’t and so Fane scrunched up his eyes and pressed himself against her, opting not to speak because what could he say? He barely registered the press of metal in his palm and so as she coaxed his fingers open so that she could take them the ring passed from him to her in a matter of seconds.
She could have raged at him, could have sworn and screamed and shouted but Fane was worn out that the only reaction she would have likely got was him sat mutely thought it barely remaining in any state of genuine consciousness without wanting to slip away to sleep. Which was all he wanted to do right now. Sleep. Forget this evening or try to.
He barely even took note of what time of day or night it was, the fact hardly mattered in his panic ridden state because all he had wanted was for it to stop. To let him be and let him go. But Faye, she had chosen him and that mere fact alone was enough to get him to wrap his arms around her. She wasn’t willing to let him go and the relief he felt over that was something he couldn’t articulate. Like always he bent to her will, so at the insistence of her fingers the ring was soon set back in place on his finger where it belonged and soon enough their fingers were laced together once more.
Fane could feel the curl of her fingers against his head the pressure only serving to push his head further into the damp but familiar crook of her shoulder whilst her lips brushed his temple. “I’m tired Faye… I just want to sleep...”
Faye couldn’t have screamed at him now if she wanted to. There was no fight left in her other than to make sure he was safe, to make sure he was alright and unharmed. He’d been through enough tonight, and he knew better than anyone what taking off the ring meant. That’s why he’d done it. Later, perhaps, they’d have a talk about it. About what could have happened if it had been daytime and not the dead of night. If it was needed. But otherwise Faye wouldn’t bring it up. She didn’t think Fane wanted to die. Not anymore. And one rash decision while in the clutches of a living nightmare was not something to dwell on too deeply.
So as he folded against her, weary and spent and wanting nothing more than to sleep, Faye nodded. Words weren’t really needed, but she spoke anyway. “Let’s get you home then.” Using every ounce of strength she had left in her bones, Faye helped him to his feet and pulled his good arm around her shoulders. He was so much taller than her, and she stumbled a little as he sagged against her, but with the help of her magic she got him upright.
And walked right into the gaping jaws of an enormous white alligator the size of a school bus.
Faye balked sharply, pushing Fane behind her as best she could as the creature let out a subsonic rumble that reverberated through Faye’s chest, shaking the wet ground and the dark water that had silenced it’s approach.. “Don’t move,” she said to Fane, gripping him tightly. Any other night she might have told him to use his vampire speed and get them out of there, but he could barely stand, much less get the both of them out of there in time to avoid being crunched between teeth the size of fence posts. But the creature didn’t move, merely let out it’s rumble as it watched them with a pale, blue eye the size of a dinner plate.The longer Faye looked at it, the more she realized that it wasn’t actually white. But the palest shade of green she had ever seen. More like a white that hinted at color. Like a plastic lawn-chair left to bake in the sun for too long, or in this case a creature that hadn’t seen the light of days for ages. It’s blinked it’s double-lidded eye at them, and it’s jaws slowly closed as a low hiss sounded from somewhere deep inside it’s huge body and it’s head sagged to the ground.
Faye settled slightly too, but certainly didn’t relax. It didn’t seem intent on hurting them. Faye had seen gator hunting tactics. Hiding below the water, waiting on prey to get close enough. This one had had ample opportunity to snap her and Fane up as they had been occupied on the muddy shore. But it hadn’t. Faye frowned. What was it doing here? Was this the animal that Cat had spoken about? The one that had caused the bridge collapse? Christ… then that meant…
As if on cue, out in the water on the other side of the cattails and the reeds, small lights appeared. Torches and lanterns on the prows of small fishing boats and swamp rafts, some powered by motors, some steered with poles. The alligator let out another rumble, and only then did Faye notice that along it’s back it was riddled with missing scales and old scars. There were even the remnants of arrows, spears, gaffs, and all manner of tools that had been used to try and capture or kill it over the last… Christ… century maybe.
And it was hurt now. Dark red blood oozed from a gash in it’s side. Nothing fatal, but it was wounded enough that it had sought refuge in the tall grass. And now the Headhunters were closing in.
Well not if Faye had any say. “We have to help it…” she told Fane. Nothing else would be hunted down and captured without consent. She couldn’t change what had happened to Fane, but maybe she could help this creature. So pulling Fane’s arm back around her shoulder, she took a step forwards and pressed her hand, as slow as she’d ever done anything in her life, to the creature’s massively muscled jaw. “We’re gonna help you,” she told it, tightening her grip on Fane as well. Without anymore talking, Faye cast out her magic, feeling it suck the energy from her as a thick white mist swallowed them up; the vampire, the witch, and the white alligator. The magic was so strong, and the fog so untraversable, that the hunters in the boats were forced to turn back when even their own magic couldn’t help them.
Only when they were far enough away did Faye release the spell. The magic fog faded, and Faye sagged under Fane’s weight. But she would make it. She would get him home. The alligator seemed to study them again for a long moment, blinking twice, before pushing it’s hulking form into the water and disappearing as silently as it had come.
But even the presence of a creature as rare and beautiful as the one which she’d just saved from annihilation didn’t take precedence over the man in her arms. Faye steadied Fane once more and without a word turned them on the journey home.
His legs felt spent under him and it was a struggle to get up; fighting against the suction of mud and his own mental fatigue both of which were trying to pull him down. Fane felt her shift, heard her words and knew he couldn’t stay here. She ducked under his arm and he felt the coil of her magic wrap around his body; grey tendrils that together with his own effort got him up and stabilised. His body felt like lead, but soon enough they’d started to move that is until they were stood face to gaping face with a giant set of jagged teeth with a direct view into the cavern of its throat. Even his weary brain registered the shock and he swallowed thickly coming very quickly to realise the danger they were potentially in.
Faye pushed him back, behind her and a part of him wanted to protest but no sound left him as the gargantuan creature rumbled the ground shaking like a low-rating earthquake on the Richter scale had just trembled through the area the sonic vibrations resonating through his body and sent water shifted nearby. Faye didn’t need to tell him to not move, he had absolutely no intention of moving. His eyes never left the creature and for a very tense few moments the three were at a stand-still. He could vaguely detect the pastal honeydew shade of its skin, the lower portion of its belly submerged in the swamp nearby but by no means making it look by any smaller than it truly was. He might’ve been fascinated if he wasn’t so aware of Faye’s presence here. He could heal but Faye? She was still essentially human at the end of the day. But soon enough the jaw hinged shut as it seemed to deem them not a threat.
Only then did some of the tension leak out of his body, leaving him to study the ridges and scarring on the ancient creature’s body the story Cat told them of this very animal coming to mind. Despite the differences, he felt an odd sense of connection to the animal with its worn body likely just as tired of running as he felt. Or perhaps he was just imagining it. Either way it was the drift of engines that drew his attention, and Fane’s head finally turned from the animal towards the sound his eyes picking out the flashlights and beams cutting through the darkness of the boats all navigating the waterways.
They both had the same idea upon seeing the gash in its side, and he grimaced but managed a nod. This creature didn’t choose its fate, what did it do to deserve being hunted down? As Faye stepped forwards he did too stiffly but let her get to work pulling and manipulating the darkness of her magic to form a fog which engulfed them all until they were shrouded from outside eyes. He felt her own body beginning to sag under the drain of her magic and he tried to support himself a little more his own arm moving around her waist to support her in turn.
As the sound of the hunters faded into the distance, Fane could only look at the animal which blinked its double-lidded eyes at them. Made another low rumble deep in its belly before it too was slipping silently back into the waterways. To go… who knew where and soon enough they were alone once more. Fane studied the water that settled soon enough a mixture of satisfaction and sadness filling him as he wondered whether the creature felt the same sort of pain he did at times.
Soon enough though his focus was on Faye, on getting back and though it was a struggle between them they eventually reached the house which came into view and the relief was palpable in them both. Barely a word passed between them, both too exhausted to speak when they got inside and stripped off their sodden clothes proceeding to get washed and changed into fresh pyjamas until the pair of them collapsed into bed. Fane automatically curled his body into Faye’s, hugging her tight and burying his face against her as his body and mind finally began to settle. He sought her warmth like a heat-seeking missile that left him hugging her tight.
The encounter with the alligator had shaken Faye, but not nearly as much as what happened with Fane. The creature faded from her mind as they made their way home in a slow haze, numb to anything but their arms wrapped tightly around one another. Faye’s feet hurt, and she felt like she would fall over with every step she took, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered right now but Fane.
She helped him undress and get into the shower, and for once he didn't protest. He was eerily quiet, and just stood under the spray as she rinsed the mud from his skin and her own. Later, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled the covers up as he buried himself in her chest. Her hands soothed up and down his back, soft lines of comfort even as she tried not to touch his scars too heavily. She wasn't avoiding them, never that, she simply didn't want to raise his anxiety again now that he was setting down. Her nose buried itself in his hair, and she breathed him in, watching the curtains sway in the breeze, a thousand things running through her head as she started to hum quietly.
It was only in the quiet period of washing each other that Fane realised Faye’s absence of shoes in chasing him down, and when they were settled after a while of tight hugging during which he sank down into the brushing caress of her hands almost dozing that he remembered. He shuffled up a little, nudging a little space between them whilst he brought his thumb up to his mouth and bit down, pressuring a few droplets to bead up he gave her a look that she he wanted her to take the offering. A few drops wouldn’t hurt her, but it would ease the aches on her body by tomorrow at least.
Only once (at his stubborn insistence) she had taken the offering did Fane properly settle down in his original position. Normally he was the one who liked to hold her but tonight he needed the comfort of her arms, her voice and simply her presence. It took a little while, but eventually Fane drifted off into a state of sleep too exhausted to keep fighting the fatigue from the emotional toll the entire evening had taken on him mentally and physically, anchored by his secure hold on Faye.
Normally, Faye would have protested a good bit more over him giving her his blood. She was fine without it. Or so she said. But whatever he needed right now she would give. And if accepting the offering would help him rest, Faye would do it. So she acquiesced, and sucked the red droplets from the pad of his thumb. The aches and pains slowly eased, as did the pain in her feet, and as he finally settled back against her - taking care of her even when it was him that needed it most; and she loved him for it even as she sighed at his stubbornness - Faye wrapped him in her arms.
She sang until he drifted off, slowly going still as stone in her embrace. The only indicator he was alive were the occasional small movements as he slept, and the warm, soft pliancy of his skin beneath her hands. It might have been disconcerting to some, but Faye was accustomed to it by now. She had grown accustomed to many things where Fane was concerned. And there wasn't one thing - from his often times terribly silly sense of humor, to his massive collection of dog videos, to the way he gave more of himself than he ever hoped to get in return - that Faye was willing to let go.
Because she'd been telling the truth when she said she wasn't ready to lose him yet. She didn't think she would ever be ready. Not now. Not a hundred years from now.
Not ever.
FIN.
2 notes · View notes
tylerbiard · 8 years ago
Text
Still in Edmonton
So it’s Spring in Edmonton.  The weather is warmer, the snow is melting, and everything looks ugly.  You know, the melt is dislodging the garbage and gravel that was embedded into the snow, creating a muddy mess, and where it isn’t a muddy mess, everything is simply brown and dry.  The grass truly is not greener here until May.  Still, there’s something about this season that makes it synonymous with change, and with change comes reflection.
I had to do this assignment in one of my classes this semester on “material culture.”  Basically, I needed to figure out a material aspect that represented my culture and then present.  I was gonna be cliche and just pick my camera or something along those lines, but I decided to be innovative and pick something that literally both represents me and my background.  So I went with the perogy, an Eastern European dumpling. 
The reason I chose it was two-fold: it represents my ethnic background on one side and it also represents my home.  The Parkland region of the Canadian Prairies, roughly corresponding with the Yellowhead corridor, from Edmonton to Winnipeg, is home to a huge Ukrainian diaspora.  When the Canadian West opened up in the late 19th century, Ukrainians were among the earliest settlers to the untamed flatlands, and were pivotal in converting the land into arable farmland.  They were chosen due to the similar climate of Eastern Europe and the Canadian Prairies.  Most Ukrainian immigrants stayed in rural areas, like the Edna-Star Colony, and did not migrate into the cities until after World War II.  As a result of this diaspora, Edmonton has the nickname “Edmonchuk” (-chuk is a common suffix to Ukrainian last names) and as the diaspora integrated and mingled with wider Canadian society, certain aspects of Ukrainian culture were annexed into the wider culture here.  This was largely in the form of food, especially perogies, which is a popular dish here, regardless of ethnic background.  But even things like pysanka and the presence of Ukrainian Orthodox churches on the landscapes show the influence of Slavic culture in the Parkland.  So, in choosing perogies as my “material culture,” I wasn’t speaking merely about my heritage, I was also speaking directly to the place I inhabit and its own culture.  Someone born in Edmonton, but of an Belgian or Bengal or Brazilian background could’ve chosen perogies too and it would’ve been accurate.
I actually thought, knowing the strong Ukrainian slant here, that maybe someone else in my class was also going to use perogies as their “material culture” example.  But no one else did. The whole perogy thing kind of reaffirmed how embedded in this place I am, to an extent that few people seem to be.  Maybe that’s arrogant.  I mean, there are other tokens of Parkland culture out there, and Ukrainians weren’t even the only people settling the West in the 1890s and 1900s.  Hell, the other half of my family didn’t even arrive in Canada until after World War II!  To be fair, with regards to the “material culture” assignment, there were other people in my class that could’ve been just as embedded into the psyche of this place, but their examples were more broad.  Like coffee was a common example of “material culture” that a few people used, but that’s more of a wider Western thing, and someone doing the same assignment in Toulouse or Tuscaloosa could’ve said the same thing.
When I look at the people around me, I often find it hard to come across people who are as embedded in Edmonton and Alberta psychologically as I am.  I really feel like I am of Edmonton, for better or worse.  A lot of people, especially since the mid-2000s boom, are relatively recent to Edmonton.  People from across Canada have been coming in droves for the “Alberta Advantage” and cities like Edmonton have ramped up the intake of foreign immigrants.  It feels like everyone here is more tied to somewhere else. In a lot of ways, this demographic change-up is great.  Objectively, Edmonton is a far more progressive, vibrant, diverse, and all around simply a better place than it was in 2003. 
At the same time, though, it’s kind of alienating being surrounded by people who are out to make a quick buck off of oil, and funnel money back east or overseas, without a care for what this place actually is.  There’s a transiency to Alberta, which is felt most acutely during boomtimes.  It happened in the ‘80s, it happened in the mid-’00s, and again in the early ‘10s.  It’s tapered off somewhat over the past few years as oil prices dropped, but there is still a large amount of people here who aren’t really connected to this place the way that multi-generational Edmontonians are. To be totally fair, I know people who’ve come here from near and far and absolutely love Edmonton and are interested in knowing what it’s about, but they seem less common. I’m probably complaining about nothing; like I said Edmonton is objectively better off now and I objectively like the way things are improving. 
But feelings are never objective.  It’s weird how you can be nostalgic about eras that, when you look back critically, you can be like, “yeah, no, I’ve definitely got it better now.”  I feel that way with Edmonton a lot of times.  The sleepy, parochial, depressed Bill Smith-era city I grew up in was unequivocally a shitty one, riddled with a small town mentality that made anyone remotely progressive cringe.  And yet, I somehow miss it occasionally.  For years, I lamented how dead downtown was, and now that the stunning new arena is built, with spillover development well underway, I can’t help but think just how much of a scene downtown is now.  It’s, like, too popular now, or something.  I’ve been thinking of going to spots that remind me of the Edmonton of yore and photographing them.  I sorta already did one photo like that, here.
Yet on the flip side, I am routinely forced to contend with just how far behind Edmonton feels in terms of urban planning compared to every other major Canadian city, even smaller ones like Winnipeg, Quebec City, and Halifax.  I’m confronted with signs on Jasper Ave that, as a pedestrian, tell me to cross the street on the other side of the road.  Like, what the hell.  It’s Jasper Ave, not Saddleback Road.  Even when there’s progress, it’s half-assed.  New LRT?  Great!  Forgetting we dodged a bullet with underground LRT downtown and deciding to build above ground a la Calgary?  Dumb!  Deciding West Jasper Ave needs to stop being a stroad?  Fabulous!  Forgetting to bother with benches and trash cans and the like?  Fail!  Committing to more cycling infra but cheaping out with sharrows?  Why bother?  You’d think being the liberal bubble of the province, Edmonton would be open to more sustainable forms of planning.  Realistically, I think a large part of the issue stems from just how far Edmonton fell behind by circa 2006, after being stagnant for a generation, and so there’s still much catch up to do.
Basically, I am nostalgic about the stagnant Edmonton of yesteryear while still complaining about lack of progress.  Makes sense, right?  I want more people from a myriad of places to come here and expose this place to new ideas but dislike that they will never know the Bill Smith Edmonton I grew up with.  I’m basically an old man barking at the clouds and can’t be satisfied.
At least not here.  I feel stuck here.  I know Edmonton’s really not a bad place and there’s a lot of momentum here, but I’m just so disengaged with the place that the only thing holding me here is the people.  Perhaps that’s part of the issue.  I didn’t move around much in childhood, which further cements me in this Parkland metropolis.  While many of my friends have family scattered around the country, from where their families first settled in Canada (or the US), almost all of my family is here, in Central Alberta.  Both sides of the family came straight here from Europe.  So I don’t have some distant aunt in Montreal or a cousin in Moncton, which, again, entrenches me in this place.  Also, unlike first-gen friends of mine, who have some ties back to the old country, I don’t really have connections across the Atlantic.  What ties there were pretty much evaporated with the passing of my grandfather.  Thus, I am very much “Canadian” (not to say first-gens can’t also be unequivocally Canadian, but that I have no alternative), but also very Albertan and Edmontonian.  At least in some ways.  I suppose I’m more of an Albertan-by-birth than an Albertan-by-choice; a lot of the values here don’t align with my own.  I was thinking of this recently within the context of my Canada project, and maybe there’s something there about wider Canadian culture and values resonating with me in a way that Alberta doesn’t.
I probably just need to get out of here, even temporarily.  Being in university distracts me a bit from the limitations of Edmonton as a place for me, but it only goes so far.  It’s hard to leave, though.  I’m very embedded in this place and most of my connections are here.  It’s hard to give that up.  Maybe I’ll move to Toronto or Halifax eventually, or maybe I’ll do that term abroad in Holland.  I’m locked into Edmonton for another year, though.  I’ve heard on multiple occasions that moving away from Edmonton, after having grown up here, presents an opportunity to really appreciate Edmonton and it makes for a more enjoyable place upon returning.  Or I could just be like “bye bitch.”  Or maybe I’ll stay put, settle down, and come to terms with being of Edmonton.  But it hasn’t happened in the many years I’ve felt this longing to leave, so I’m skeptical. 
There’s also this other thing with Edmonton that is kind of special.  Because of how stagnant things were here through the ‘90s and into the 2000s, Edmonton did fall behind, as previously mentioned.  But from that, there is a lot of potential here to inflict change.  It’s in part the whole big fish in a small pond thing, but it also has to do with how much of the city feels like a blank canvas, and through those things, how much easier it is to have a positive impact on Edmonton’s future in a way you can’t in Toronto.  Edmonton is far less established as a place, so being here, especially now, not only can you put in the tokens that will churn out progress, you can also watch it happen before your eyes.  I’ve witnessed a lot of progressive change happen to Edmonton in my lifetime and it really makes you feel apart of the process and makes you appreciate all that has gone in to make Edmonton better.  You wouldn’t get that if you fucked off to Montreal or even Vancouver.  Still, the progress, although palpable, does take time.  It took 6 or 7 years before the City finally started upgrading the streetscape of the Quarters after the initial Area Structure Plan came out in ‘08 or ‘09.  Essentially, I don’t want to be 70 before Edmonton gets to the point where it’s the kind of place I am happy with.  Some days, I just wanna go somewhere where that stuff is already in place.  Sure, it’s the easy route (in a way), but it makes sense in a way to not waste your life hoping your hometown will finally change to fit your definition of better.
All I know is that I’m still here.  For now.  Actually those t-shirts are really resonating with me right now and I should probably get one.  They sum up my mood with this oil-drunk Parkland metropolis I call home.  So how’s that for Springtime reflection?
2 notes · View notes
eatingexeter · 6 years ago
Text
The world of blogging and food writing takes me all over the place, with Devon having many a fine offering in cities, towns, villages and back lanes, it’s a privilege and a delight to discover said places and share them with our audience.
Like any other person, sometimes you don’t see what is right in front of you and that’s why I love a staycation. Sure you can choose another county to go and have a mini-break in, but frankly I love it so much in the South West, I don’t feel the need to go too far. Having the opportunity to relax somewhere and then build an itinerary around it that I wouldn’t normally experience.
A while ago, I visited Exeter’s Hotel Du Vin for their French Market Table Sunday Lunch for my birthday, and more recently for business meetings.
So I was delighted to have been invited back to enjoy a family stay at their hotel.
Based in a ‘centroid’ position of Exeter if you will, it is in a prime spot to access city centre by walking up South Street, meandering to the very independent Magdalen Road, or just a hop, skip and a jump down to the Quay – what more could you need to explore Devon’s capital and gateway city?
The very grand building has been reincarnated a few times and although this chain of hotels is across the country, they do tend to choose buildings with individual style and have certainly done so here in what used to be a more clinical environment. “Take a step inside this iconic building, formerly an Eye Infirmary, where historic walled gardens and striking architecture create the backdrop for a truly special experience.”
The downstairs area is certainly modern but what I enjoyed more, as we were shown to our room, was the different style and feel the upper floors had; soft lighting, sumptuous grey carpets and beige accents giving a very calm feeling, and what I loved more were the fantastic curved walls and doorways which caught my eye too. In the rooms, there are a few hints to what once was, including drainage holes in the floors from back in its surgery days and the benefit of high ceilings, and tall windows giving rooms a spacious feel. Yet modern touches have been included for the demanding traveller such as mood lighting and speakers in the bathroom.
I was delighted to be greeted by the Nespresso machine and complimentary pods, but surprised at the charge for bottled water – for me the Nespresso is a win so it didn’t bother me but I was mindful that many travellers would expect a bottle of water for the price point of the hotel. There is a very well stocked snack box, with clear pricing, for those who have the munchies.
Tumblr media
A perfect amenity in this hotel after a day out in the city or a brisk walk along the quay, is the ‘indoor outdoor’ swimming pool. A warm haven of bubbles and seating indoors for relaxing, and enough room outside for a swim or float whilst contemplating dinner time. They also have a small spa in the gardens if you have time for a pamper.
Dinner is set in their main restaurant, which is like a large conservatory, overlooking the garden. Tear drop lighting enhances the feeling of the high ceiling, without being over the top.
There’s quite a good choice, almost too much as the menu includes the lunch and evening options All on one big card and I think this makes it harder to focus on what you might like to eat – but there is certainly something for everyone.
Starters of moules frites and meat sharing platter kicked off our dinner, all very generous in portion size and tasty.
Cassoulet Classique for the main event consisted of a hearty casserole of white beans, confit duck, smoked Toulouse sausage and pancetta which kept hubby pretty happy! My son and I opted for some red meat options, including ribeye steak and onglet steak. The rib eye was cooked medium rare as requested and was juicy and tender, but the surprise of it all was the onglet steak – onglet (or hanger) steak is an incredibly tasty piece of beef not often used. This steak was a bit like a chopped steak burger, except it is incredibly herby which quite frankly resulted in a delicious bit of meat, and at a fraction of the cost of a normal steak, if you are keeping an eye on the pennies.
For dessert the boys opted for ice creams (hubby had no room left for the very impressive cheese trolley) but I went for the il flotante which I had eaten there recently – a wonderful crème anglaise (ok yes it’s custard – but very gooooood custard) with an unctuous caramel bottom and a floating meringue quinnelle on top. Perfectly sweet and light to finish off dinner.
We awoke the next day, well rested thanks to the comfy bed and high quality blinds and curtains keeping the light out. After squeezing in a quick morning swim we were treated to a delightful breakfast of omelette Arnold Bennett (smoked haddock and parmesan) and eggs benedict with bacon – they even happily fulfilled my request of a side order of avocado and it was all really tasty. The French Market Table had plenty of other lovely things to help yourself to as well.
All in all, we had a very comfortable and relaxing stay with tasty food in the heart of Exeter – it certainly is a great spot as a base for a city break or staycation, whatever you’re up to or even just a meal as non-residents are most certainly welcome.
Hotel Du Vin Exeter, Magdalen Street, Exeter EX2 4HY
Website Twitter
City Break Staycation at Hotel du Vin, Exeter – by Lauren Heath The world of blogging and food writing takes me all over the place, with Devon having many a fine offering in cities, towns, villages and back lanes, it's a privilege and a delight to discover said places and share them with our audience.
0 notes
dancewithmeplano · 7 years ago
Text
A Zouk orchestra galore, along with some piano science: 3 music that is Unique shows to Grab
SINGAPORE: Looking to grab a concert which takes things? Whether you’re in rock, dance or classical, daring music lovers can look forward to 3 shows which do.
One of the shows at the continuing National University of Singapore (NUS) Arts Festival is Vibrational, by experimental rock band The Observatory. It sports 30 additional guitar players at a juggernaut of a show. On the opposite end of the spectrum, The Quantum Music Project is what happens once pianists hang outside using nimble-minded quantum physicists.
And if you would like your clubbing with some of those sudden, there’s The Henderson Project’s One More Time tribute to Zouk — a mash-up of your dance hits done with a orchestra. Prepared to listen to find out more?
Longtime Zouk resident DJ Aldrin (seen here at ZoukOut 2008) has come up with a 90-minute set that has been transposed to an orchestral score for Just One More Time. (Photo: Aldrin Quek)
1. ZOUK OUT WITH AN ORCHESTRA
Perhaps you have considered partying into an orchestra’s audio? Well, there’s always a first time for every thing.
A throwback concert next week is celebrating its Jiak Kim Street times at a way, although iconic dance club Zouk might have already moved into a new home in Clarke Quay.
Instead of DJs carrying court, a occasion titled One More Time will feature a 48-piece orchestra performing a pair of Zouk staples.
Held at the iconic Capitol Theatre, which will be cleared to become one dance floor on March 24 and 25, the concert is the most recent production under theater company Dream Academy&rsquoexperimental stage The Henderson Project. Aside from the orchestra, there are guest vocalists and musicians which include X Rani Singam & rsquo;ho violinist Lynnette Seah Zouk resident percussionist M S Maniam, among others.
Basically a portrait of Zouk over the last quarter of a century has been that the brain child of Dream Academy’s her husband and Selena Tan John Pok. The couple had had seen a functionality in London by the Heritage Orchestra, which performed music by drum and bass music legend Goldie. When information of Zouk being sold and proceeded came they decided to push through with the project, roping in preceding Zouk resident DJ Aldrin Quek, a friend and collaborator.
Quek, ” the show’s artistic director, suggested they take the dance-meets-orchestra idea one step farther.
“” I believed it would be fun to make it like a DJ set where the audio is non-stop,&rdquo.
Tasked with constructing the tracks which music director and conductor Indra Ismail would later transcribes to an musical score — it was a undertaking for the DJ.
“We had to select the best of the best of the entire 25 years, but we also realised that not many might all have lived through it, and only a couple of us would know all of the music. So I had to take that under consideration,” stated Quek.
The show will not only require Zouksters down memory lane but even through the signature sounds of this club’s rooms, like the chill out songs at Wine Bar into the breakbeats and hip of Phuture.
The setlist contains rsquo & the show;s titular trail from Daft Punk, Faithless’ Insomnia and Ame’s Rej, but Quek desires the rest. As for almost any nods to Zouk’s most Mambo Jambo nighttime, he conceded that there’ll be a Fatboy Slim remix in there somewhere.
“I had to make certain that that the music flowed together concerning style musical keys and groove. We would like people to be more dance from the start,” he explained.
And also make sure there’s lots of them, too. While employing an orchestra is costly, organisers recently decided to slash costs for tickets on the dance floor department (aka “posh pit”) into S$88 to lure more audiences to get a appropriate party vibe. The cost change begins at 9pm on Thursday (March 16) on Sistic.
Meanwhile, the tasked with keeping the audio is that the music director in charge of the 48 musicians enjoying non-stop. Transposing dance music for the orchestra was the initial part — come show time, Indra Ismail are also right there at the thick of things, running the whole thing from begin to finish.
“To be truthful, I’m not sure I’m likely to sustain but I must! I’ve must visit the gym and be in good shape mentally and emotionally,” he quipped. “But I have to ensure that I have the support of everybody, particularly and enjoying” stated Indra.
Added Quek: “Plenty of dance music is all digital loops, drum or tune loops for a musician to play a hundred over pubs of exactly the exact same issue isn’t straightforward! I hope they get used to it. ”
Regardless of the physical challenges for the musicians, they assert to make it a memorable night with.
“rsquo & We;re still playing with house music using instrumentation,” said Indra. &ldquo what, for 90 minutes, it’s oomph oomph oomph all the way! ”
In 2015, The Observatory conducted Vibrational in France using 20 extra guitarists. This time around, they’ve roped in 30 of them for the NUS Arts Festival. (Photo: The Idealiste)
2. FEEL THAT 30-GUITAR ‘WALL OF SOUND’
For their second gig, Singapore experimental rock band The Observatory has roped to help create a gigantic “walls of noise&rdquo.
But throughout the band’s meeting with their youthful collaborators, they had to begin with some rock guitar principles — the necessity to actually possess a guitar strap.
“Some of them were sitting down because they didn’t even have any! ” recalled drummer-percussionist Cheryl Ong.
The show Vibrational, which will wrap up the continuing NUS Arts Festival 2017 on March 25, includes the band performing with members of the NUS Guitar Ensemble (GENUS) along with other student guitarists. It’s this show’s next iteration — together with all the guitar outfit Guitarkestra, the band performed in Toulouse, France along at 2015.
The Observatory will perform tracks from their albums August Is The Cruellest along with Oscilla. Their guitarist collaborators can come in for the composed titular tune as well as the next half to perform in a few of the songs. Helping out at the performance are band alumni, Dharma and guitarists Victor Low.
Rehearsals started in January, and it’s been a steep learning curve for those students, said keyboardist Vivian Wang.
“They all had guitar wallpapers, but a number of them had never played with with the guitar; re not enjoying standard tuning & rsquo; we and there’therefore these time signatures they must manage. But they’ve worked hard at it — we keep telling them to just loosen up, use your own ears and don’t rely about an score,” he explained.
It helped too that a number of the band members understood where the students were coming from. While direct vocalist-guitarist Leslie Low and musician Yuen Chee Wai learned that the “DIY” way, Wang and Ong are classically trained musicians.
“I arrived out of a conventional backdrop,” said Ong, who plays with classic music trio SA that was experimental. “When I look at them, ” I’m reminded of myself. I keep telling them that it & rsquo; s difficult to go beyond that barrier, but I let them let go and I understand their worries about following a score. ”
So can a “walls of noise” sound like?
“The first idea was really to earn a performance which you just don’t only hear concerning volume but you really feel it in your chest and tummy,” explained Wang, who cited other bands which have done something similar, like American guitarist Rhys Chatham along with his own 100-guitar orchestra.
She continued: “Envision six vibrating strings on one guitar; 34 guitars, which are different; that’s 204 strings vibrating and amplified, also drums and voice along with other items. It’s not about busting your ear buds; we wish to have an kind of sense in regards to noise. ”
The thought of using many guitars to create a layered sound experience was partly inspired by the band’s earlier experiments gamelan music, in which occasionally the very same notes have been tuned just a fraction apart, making a vibrating feeling called the “defeat frequency”.
Wang included: “It’s like a pantone chart where there’s not only one form of yellow or blue but a wide assortment of them — so when you playwith, you’re likely to get this richness of tone and noise, and you truly feel the vibrations. ”
The gamelan experiments also opened their own eyes (and ears) to the idea of “enjoying slightly off”, which they expect can also be observed in Vibrational.
“When you see a gig, you don’t even need a fantastic CD quality functionality right? You need to observe the musicians kind of teetering on the edge of falling apart, fighting to vibe with the crowd. (Vibrational) is a little bit like that,” said Wang, who disclosed it’ll also be their final show in a little while, as they take a hiatus to plan for their next album.
“rsquo & there; s things, such a wealthy wall of it and I believe when sound is imperfect. It’s likely to excite your own ears far more than the crafted concert you’ll be able to sip tea at. ”
Experimental piano collection LP Duo will be doing “hybrid pianos” which are plugged to a computer creating quantum mathematical equations – all for the listening enjoyment. (Photo: LP Duo)
3. LEARN QUANTUM MECHANICS WITH PIANOS
It’s not every day get a lecture on quantum physics like a bonus and you choose to see a piano concert.
But that’s exactly what you’ll get when you catch The Quantum Music Project (QMP), which will be held on March 21 and 22 as part of this continuing NUS Arts Festival 2017.
Belgrade pianist team LP Duo will be doing experimental bits while at exactly the exact same time, physicists will go up to explain the relationship between audio and quantum physics.
The Singapore concert is the under this distinctive project between scientists and musicians. It started in 2012, using sound engineer Dragan Novkovic and quantum physicist Vlatko Vedral thinking up of ways to flake and hang out outside “playing dolls and drinking beer,” quipped the prior.
Hitting upon the notion of a job that combined their two disciplines, LP Duo was roped in by them.
Bespite being rather daring and musicians themselves, the pianists admitted it took a while for them to get it.
“Dealing with laws of quantum physics? This was very hard to imagine in the start. But things like a particle in the instant in similar quantum phenomena or two areas are extremely inspirational to be shown through audio and sound,” stated LP Duo’s Sonja Loncar.
So what exactly is the link between classical music and also quantum physics?
“Math, physics and acoustics are areas where these meet very readily,” said LP Duo pianist Andrija Pavlovic.
“There were lots of experiments by several composers from the 1960s, but we’re carrying it a step forward. Play and we chose to make the audio of this 21st century, combining acoustic pianos using also and analog synths digital noises; whereas the physicists do simulations of the quantum sounds, which we then manipulate. ”
For the concert, each key in both grand pianos is attached to a detector, which feeds to a computer which alters the sound generated.
Even though QMP did something similar at the Keyboard Times Belgrade Festival this past year, the hybrid-pianos will be making their debut. (NUS Centre for Quantum Technologies’ Andrew Garner is also highly involved in QMP.)
Their show here is a dry-run for bigger things for the project. Back in September, a premiere of their multimedia show will be held at Copenhagen, which will then be followed with a Europe tour.
“And we really hope to have the ability to bring the entire show here in Singapore at 2018. That’s most one of our goals and such concerts are an essential step to generate something like this possible,” stated Novkovic.
So what if you’re a music lover who knows next to nothing? Don’t said Loncar.
“There is not any need to be prepared, because one of the aims for us is to exhibit the laws of quantum physics in a way that everyone can easily understand. ”
And if you believe they’re folk that is extreme and serious, well, there’s of them playing blindfolded a video floating around.
“because we wished to show our virtuosity This began at the same concert – but Dragan and Vlatko were inspired and discovered a link between that and the quantum world. Come and see the show! ”
The post <p>A Zouk orchestra galore, along with some piano science: 3 music that is Unique shows to Grab</p> appeared first on dance withme plano.
from dance withme plano http://www.dancewithmeplano.com/a-zouk-orchestra-galore-along-with-some-piano-science-3-music-that-is-unique-shows-to-grab/
0 notes
imjustthemechanic · 6 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
Glockenspiel
Part 1/? - Transmission Part 2/? - The Sandhill Hotel Part 3/? - Piccadilly
The front doors of the hotel were locked, but Toulouse apparently knew the code to open them, which gave Peggy a moment of pause.  The last person who’d had a code for anything was this Mr. Smith.  Could it be they were walking into the lion’s mouth?  The door opened, and as they stepped out onto the street, Toulouse pulled out a black slab very like the one Sutcliffe had been using, and started to play with that.  That made Peggy wonder some more.
Then she looked up at their surroundings, and everything else was forgotten.
They were right on an intersection of multiple streets, with traffic and pedestrians moving in all directions.  It was getting late in the afternoon.  The air was damp and chilly.  Lights were on in the buildings and vehicles, and the sky was overcast.  That much would have been completely normal for London and wouldn’t have bothered Peggy at all, but everything else she was seeing was wrong.
The cars were wrong.  They were tiny and oddly-shaped, low-slung and streamlined.  Even the double-decker bus that went by wasn’t the type she remembered.  The people were dressed in tight, form-fitting clothing, and many of them were walking along looking at those same little slabs, or holding them against their ears as if talking on a telephone.  Strange music, thumping with bass that shook the air, was coming from several directions.  Across the square was a building covered in huge glowing advertisements for Diet Coke and something called Hyundai and the big staring image of a man’s face with the words The Martian overlaid on it, all of it moving and changing as if on a theatre screen.
And yet… the buildings around her were familiar.  Peggy’s stomach turned itself upside-down as she recognized them.  That must be Regent Street, and there was Piccadilly, and the Barclay’s Bank… but it was all changed.  All a little older, a little patched, retrofitted with this new veneer of brilliant colours and cars that looked like they were designed to fly.  Peggy hadn’t been back to London in more than two years but surely that wasn’t enough time for it to have all changed so much.
She finally remembered that there were other people with her.  Toulouse was still staring at her black slab, tapping a foot impatiently.  Howard was standing behind Peggy, as astonished as she was.
“This doesn’t look like London,” he said quietly.  “Course, I haven’t been there since VE day…”
“No, no this is London,” said Peggy.  “This is Piccadilly Circus.”
Howard visibly relaxed.  “So it’s okay, then,”
“No,” Peggy repeated.  “No, it is not.”
“Ugh,” said Toulouse, shaking her head.  “Five minutes away, my butt!  Where is he?”
“Toulouse?” Peggy asked.
“Yeah?”  The young woman looked at her.
“Where are we?”
“Oh, this is the new Piccadilly,” said Toulouse, gesturing to the building behind her.  “It’s supposed to open next month but they’re way behind.”
Peggy looked over her shoulder and up.  The hotel they’d just come out of was glass-fronted and irregular, as if it were made of several buildings in slightly different architectural styles haphazardly stuck together.  Part of the front façade was covered by an immense piece of canvas with a wading crane logo, and the large words Sandhill Piccadilly in the Heart of London – Opening May.
“Next month?” Howard swallowed.  “It was July.”
“What are you doing here if the hotel isn’t open?” Peggy asked Toulouse.
“Working on my master’s degree,” was the reply.
“You have a master’s degree?”  Howard was interested.
“I’m working on my master’s degree,” Toulouse corrected him.  “I’m visiting the National Archives and Daddy said I could stay in the hotel.  I’m leaving tonight,” she added firmly.  “I’ve had enough – I’ll have somebody pick up my stuff and I’m out!  I don’t want a cow or a car to come flying into my room in the middle of the night!  Who are you?”
“We were investigating an incident in Los Angeles, which also involved cows and cars, oddly enough,” Peggy went on, “and we found a strange machine that apparently transported us here – there’s a matching one in the basement.  They must have a third somewhere,” she realized, “or they wouldn’t have Zola.”  Perhaps they’d nabbed him at the airport.
“I knew there was something up with the men in the basement!” Toulouse exclaimed.  “Daddy told me they’re here to work on the electric and I could stay as long as I didn’t bother them, but I don’t believe it.  The lights keep flickering at all hours and things go bang in the middle of the night, and yesterday a car crashed through the front windows with nobody driving it.  I’ve rung him about it twice now but he never listens to his voicemail.”
What’s your father’s name?” Peggy wanted to know.  She hoped it wasn’t Smith, or else they’d accomplished nothing.
“Dalton Sandhill,” said Toulouse, as if everybody should know that.  Then her eyes re-focused from Peggy’s face to something behind her, and she stood on her tiptoes and waved an arm in the air.  “Finally!”
A dark blue car pulled up beside them, and a black man with short dreadlocks reached over to open the door.  “Lambeth Wilton?” he asked.
“That’s us!” said Toulouse.
Peggy climbed in the back seat and moved over so Howard could do the same, while Toulouse got in the front and strapped herself in with some kind of safety harness.  That was odd, Peggy thought.  They were only going for a drive.
“Come on, seat belts,” the driver said.  “We don’t go anywhere without them.”
Peggy was about to ask dryly whether he were that bad a driver, but then out of the corner of her eye she saw the front door of the hotel open, and there was Sutcliffe, looking around frantically.  She buckled her belt in a hurry and Howard did the same.
“We’ve got them!” she said.  “Now go!”
The car pulled away again as Sutcliffe came running out, waving his arms to tell them to stop.  Howard waved goodbye to him through the window.
There were a million and one more questions Peggy wanted to ask, a thousand things she wanted to discuss and needed to think about, but none of them were anything she could just blurt out in front of strangers.  That was a problem because Howard was doubtless thinking the same things, and Keeping One’s Mouth Shut was a concept he understood only intermittently.  Peggy looked at him and found him on the verge of opening his mouth, so she gave him a fierce glare and pressed a finger to her lips.
Howard quickly shut his mouth, and made a zipper motion across it.
Instead of talking on the way to the Wilton, then, they let Toulouse regale the driver with her tales of strange men in the basement and cows wandering around an unfinished hotel, while Peggy herself stared out the window, listening to her hammering heart.  She’d been in some strange situations before, but she had a feeling that this one, once she confirmed her growing hunch, was going to leave them all behind.
“One day there was even a cow in the lift!” Toulouse was saying.  “What would a cow be doing in a lift?”
“Didn’t you know?  They can’t use the stairs,” the driver said.  “There’s this story about a prank at a university somewhere in America…”
Streets flickered by, teeming with strange people driving strange cars, odd motorcycles and even peculiar, bright yellow-green ambulances.  Many of the buildings were familiar ones, like the National Gallery and the Astor House, but even those weren’t quite right.  Different street signs, different colours of paint and garden features… and as they drove alongside the Thames Peggy saw things that looked like they came from another world.  There was a giant ferris wheel, studded with coloured lights and turning slowly, and tall glassy buildings that looked more like artworks than skyscrapers.
She could hear her blood roaring in her ears.  Peggy had assumed, as had Howard, that what Zola’s kidnappers had built was a teleportation machine, but it didn’t have to be.  There were other ways to vanish in California and reappear in London, especially if a great deal of time elapsed between the two events.
They passed the Monument, and pulled up outside the Lambeth Wilton hotel – Peggy had stayed there before, but this was not the same building.  It must have been razed and rebuilt at some point, and even that would have been some years ago, because the new version had obvious repairs to its stairs and some parts had been re-painted a slightly different colour.
“Lambeth Wilton,” said the driver.  “Here we are.”
Toulouse seemed to pay him using the black slab again, then grabbed her larger silver object, and they headed indoors.
“I hope nobody recognizes me,” she murmured.
Peggy thought it would have been difficult not to pick Toulouse out of a crowd.  “Whyever not?” she asked.
“Because this is a Wilton – that’s why nobody will look for us here,” Toulouse replied.  “Why would a member of the Sandhill family stay at a Wilton?”
“So your father owns the hotel chain, then,” said Peggy, putting a few pieces together.
“He used to,” said Toulouse.  “He passed it on to Cass when he got into politics.”  She gave Peggy a funny look.  “I thought everybody knew that.”
“I think I may be a bit behind the times,” Peggy observed.  She caught Howard’s eye, and saw him nod.  He’d come to the same conclusion she had.
The lobby of the hotel had once featured an extensive fountain, which had since been filled with wood chips and fake plants to try to look like a garden instead.  The result fooled nobody.  Toulouse gave it a frown as she went to the desk to get them a room, but she was sweet and polite to the clerk there, and thanked him with a smile as she escorted Peggy and Howard to the elevators.  There was some clear trepidation on the young woman’s face as she watched the door open, but the car beyond was empty.
“That’s one thing the Wilton can say they have that we don’t,” she remarked.  “Cow-free lifts.”
The elevator began to ascend, and Peggy couldn’t take it anymore.  Now that they were in private, she had to say something.
“You said we were in London,” she said cautiously.
“Of course,” Toulouse replied.  Her thumbs were flying madly over her black slab.  “We saw the London Eye on the way over here.”  Clearly she thought Peggy and Howard were very strange people indeed.
“Humour me a moment let me ask a very odd question,” said Peggy.  “What year is it?”
“Huh?”  Toulouse finally looked up from staring at her slab.  “It’s 2015.  Are you supposed to be time-travelers?”
“Ah…” Peggy glanced at Howard, but he of course was no help.  There was absolutely nothing for it.  “Yes, as a matter of fact.  Where we came from it was… uh…”
“It was 1948,” Howard finished for her, although clearly even he had trouble believing it.  “Sixty-seven years!”
The elevator doors slid open, but Toulouse was too stunned to walk through them.  “Wait, wait,” she said, shoving the slab in her pocket.  “You’re telling me now, that the men Daddy hired to fix the electric are actually building a time machine in the basement ballroom?”
“Yes.  That would be exactly what they’re doing,” said Peggy.
“That’s who kidnapped Zola!” Howard exclaimed.  “Peg, you thought you rooted out HYDRA, but they escaped into the future, and then they came back for him!”
Peggy grabbed his arms.  “You really think so?”  The implications were utterly terrifying.
“Oh, that explains it!” Toulouse said eagerly.
Peggy still wasn’t done processing the idea that HYDRA might be active in the future, she certainly wasn’t ready for that.  “What?” she asked.
The elevator door began to close again, and Toulouse quickly put an arm out to keep it open.  “That’s how they got into America!  There was that whole thing with the helicarriers in Washington… you missed that!”  She tucked the silver object she was still carrying under her arm so she could unlock the door of the hotel suite, using a little card with the Wilton Hotels logo on it.  Inside, she hit the light switch with her elbow, and pulled out her black slab again.  “Let me find you the Wikipedia article.”
They were seventy years in the future, HYDRA was here, and… and Toulouse, she realized, had barely questioned the idea that the two odd people she’d found in a safe in her father’s hotel were from another time.
“So… you believe us?” Peggy asked.  “That we’re time travelers?”
“The world’s gotten weird,” said Toulouse.  She turned the card key over and murmured letters to herself as she entered them in her slab.  “I might believe anything.  Even if there weren’t cows in the lift, aliens attacked Greenwich a couple of years ago and Thor was riding the tube.”
“Thor?” asked Howard with a frown.
“Yes, Thor the Thunder God,” Toulouse agreed.  “You’re gonna love him.  You’ve got the standard scale of one to ten, and Thor’s like a fifteen.  He’s got abs you could do your laundry on.”
“Sounds like your type, Peg,” Howard observed.  Peggy gave him a dirty look.
“He’s way tidier than stodgy old Ca… here it is!”  She held up her slab triumphantly to show something displayed on its surface.
Peggy put out a hand and gently pushed it down.  “Toulouse,” she said.  “That’s lovely, but we need to figure out what we’re going to do about this.”  If everything she’d just heard was true, then Peggy and Howard were seventy years away from home, and that still might be the least of their problems.
8 notes · View notes
solaristraveller-blog · 7 years ago
Text
I recently walked to the Cascade D’Ars waterfall in southern France from Aulus les Bains. The Cascade d’Ars waterfall is a major tourist attraction – and there is more than one reason why. The area is of outstanding natural beauty in the Pyrenees, about three hours away from Toulouse. The trail takes about an hour and a half from the old spa town of Aulus les Bains at the bottom of the hill all the way up to the Cascade d’Ars.
The Area Around Cascade d’Ars
Here, clouds often cover the entire mountain area in the spring and autumn. It was the same during my visit – it rained there for about three days. Walking around here is quite a nice experience because the Cascade d’Ars is only about an hour and a half away from the cave of Grotte de Niaoux, which is one of the oldest cave paintings in Europe. Those people were the hunters and gatherers of their time about 28,000 years ago. And this is the same sort of area around the Cascade d’Ars as we are only about an hour away from the cave.
#gallery-0-17 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-17 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-17 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-17 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */
The cloud on the mountain
The lower Pyrenees
Mountains behind Aulus les Bains
The countryside near Aulus les Bains
The entire trail has sign posts, marked by bear signs. Each checkpoint is a different colour from brown to green. The white-red trail takes tourists further into the mountains.
As I was inside the cloud, there was some water dripping down from the trees around me which made it feel quite interesting. It was raining so heavily by mid-morning that I’ve had to put my hood on, but I didn’t mind it at all.
The Concrete Bridge
Once you pass the concrete bridge you will need to follow the white and red signs along the path, just past the brown bear sign. The waterfall here is super tall, I would guess that it is at least about 40-50 meters high. As I got closer it became proper windy and I as I was recording I didn’t even know if people could hear anything from what I was saying .
#gallery-0-18 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-18 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-18 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-18 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */
Small Waterfall on the way to Cascade d’Ars
On the trail
Somewhere in the forest
When I was at the Niagara Falls in October 2016 it felt a little similar to this waterfall, with all the rain and wind hitting my face.
The Way Down
As I started to descend on the way down to the bottom of the hill – it became a bit slippery with all the rain but it was still the same enjoyable. I was walking in my running shoes that I normally use to run in when I am in London. Obviously these are not exactly suitable for this kind of hill but it did the job. But if you want to be super careful and be on the safe side just bring proper boots and waterproof clothes.
Click Here For The Full Weekend Itinerary
This was my second time in the Pyrenees and the second time rained so basically it’s quite a wet area. I quite like walking around these beautiful areas like the French mountains or in Spain.  In fact, I’ve been to lots of nice areas like the northern Turkish mountain areas or the Transylvanian Mountains and so on. A lot of people think that walking in the rain is not exactly nice but I would say it’s quite a good experience. That’s because you are not sweating your ass off and also it’s much cooler so you can just enjoy the scenery without feeling exhausted all day.
#gallery-0-19 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-19 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-19 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-19 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */
The cloud on the mountain
The Cascade d’Ars
Another small waterfall
If you’ve watched the video some of you might have wondered why I kept looking at my feet when I was walking downhill – so here is the explanation. It’s quite a rocky path and every now and then there are some pretty big boulders. So I just didn’t really want to break my ankles there.
The Best Time to Visit
June is the best time to visit the waterfalls. That’s because all the snow melts at the top of the mountains and the waterfall swells with the help of the rain as well. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill the rain stopped and it was also getting a bit warmer. Luckily I managed to avoid all the crowds by leaving early. I really enjoyed the walk and I would encourage everybody else to do the same. Well, thanks for reading and check in again later.
#gallery-0-20 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-20 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 100%; } #gallery-0-20 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-20 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */
Aulus les Bains Hotel
Main Street in Aulus les Bains
An abandoned Aulus les Bains hotel
The River
The high street
Town center
There is more…!
Read my article about the following subjects if you are interested in a road trip around southern France. I did it myself in a couple of days so it’s perfectly doable. If you like to watch videos, check out my youtube channel as well.
Marseille Weekend Trip by TGV in France
One Day in Medieval Foix Castle & OId Town
Europcar Weekend Road Trip: Toulouse & Southern France
Cascade d’Ars Waterfall – Hiking from Aulus les Bains
Maison d’Anjali in Toulouse – Hotel Video Review
Weekend Itinerary for Toulouse in Southern France
Cascade d'Ars Waterfall - Hiking from Aulus les Bains #pyrenees #france #hiking #hills I recently walked to the Cascade D'Ars waterfall in southern France from Aulus les Bains. The Cascade d'Ars waterfall is a major tourist attraction - and there is more than one reason why.
0 notes