rogueinladysclothing | [Duplicity] IC Inbox

[Aloïs' message arrives sometime in the early evening, and after the rogue's surreal meeting with a man who shares his face. He doesn't know how ready Amelia might be to receive what he has to tell her (she hasn't been ready for much recently, in his estimation) but he needs her help with this. He needs the old Amelia he can trust with anything, and who always seems to have sound counsel for problems that only get twisted up in his own head when he's left to his own devices.

Please let this, at least, be normal, he thinks. In a moment when he genuinely needs the partnership and unspoken understanding they've spent years building.

It takes some wrangling with his device, but Aloïs eventually he manages to figure out how to send a call Amelia's way.]

Secret Keeper. We have a new problem. Omen shit.

Edited 2022-06-04 22:56 (UTC)

[Ready for what's coming or not, Amelia answers as soon as she's able to pull the device out of her pocket.

This is an ill start to any conversation.]

Explain.

[It's better to start like this than to let herself say more.]

[This sounds more like her than what he's been getting lately. It's too early to tell, but it's a heartening start. Some of the tension in his shoulders relaxes as he dares to hope for normalcy.

And then Aloïs breathes out. How does he begin to explain Chris? What happened this afternoon?]

There's another man in this place running around with my face and body. Some differences [like wings, but those could easily be magic for how quickly the man was able put them away, Aloïs thinks] but otherwise it's a portrait-perfect likeness. Might as well be the twin I never had.

[His tone is laden with a suspicion and confusion she'll recognize. He doesn't like or trust what he's discovered. Even if it's not Chris' fault, on its (literal) face, it all seems like trouble.]

[The jump to 'this is devilry and dark magic' in his voice and choice of words is obvious. Being faced with someone who looks exactly like you would be jarring for anyone, but Aloïs is always more suspicious of things he can't readily explain.

She needs more information before she can move forward. It's going to push on her second, but he can handle it.]

How alike are you to this man? How does he fight and speak? How does he move? Can he do things you can't?

[A beat.] What did he say to you? [What's rattled her second so much?]

[The push to explain more gets Aloïs starting to think about his encounter with Chris beyond the wall of dislike and suspicion that had instantly come down the moment he saw the man's face. He doesn't like it, but Amelia's a secure source to give his honest impressions to. To wonder out loud to, when his typical instinct when faced with the unknown is to brace for impact.]

Some likenesses. He can sling a pretty word, seems to use his face the way I do mine, and also seems to be from a world like ours. Perceptive. He knows this place and had a few things to say about the gods that might be in it behind the scenes.

[A thoughtful, somewhat reluctant beat. He hasn't forgotten the strangeness of watching himself as a mage.] Has magic, too, but I don't know how much. We got into a fight and he used a quarterstaff, so that might be the weapon of choice instead.

[There. It's all laid out on the table. He needs to know what she thinks about it, and if it seems like a portent to her the way it does him.]

[Magic. The man has magic. No wonder her second is so uncomfortable with the situation. She frowns to herself, pulling her fingers through the strands of her hairpin as she goes over it all in her mind.

Aloïs is right to be wary. Another person in the city sharing the same face could be dangerous, especially as they're attempting to settle and begin again. Anything that gets in the way of that needs to be avoided at all costs. They've lost enough time around... recent goings on beyond their control.

At the same time, another skilled charmer with a pretty face? One who's possibly a mage as well? The Shadow Mistress can't deny how useful this Chris could be to them.]

His presence isn't ideal. I don't like an unknown element like this being forced on us so soon after our arrival. [That much is easy to say. She hopes it's a reassurance, because she needs more from Aloïs now that she has an idea of what Chris is like.]

What did he tell you about this city? About things happening in the Down or the general goings on in the city as a whole? What was his tone like with you? [Was he suspicious? Cautious? Withdrawn? Any details here are valuable.]

[This feels so much like the way their dynamic had been back home that it's easy to fall into simple reporting. The First and Second need to know the details of any problem and the outcome of each and every mission. It's how they make plans together to decide their next move. There's no room or need for lies or half-truths.

It's a relief, and something for him to slip into like an old and reliable pair of boots. That she lends some acknowledgement to the strangeness of the encounter helps.]

Aye, I don't like it much either. There's more coming down the bend as a result of this, trust. [It feels like a given to him, however nebulous the potential happenings to come are. Not that the sense grants any idea of what to do about any of it yet.]

He gave me information about the cutthroats in the Down. [The accuracy will require some reality testing, but that's easy enough.] There's at least one group called the Rubies. Hostile. Got into a confrontation with them ourselves. The gang activity here sounds like it's on a much denser scale than anything in Ragneux. Warring between groups is common, and territory is always being pushed for.

[On the note of Chris' tone, Aloïs hesitates. He can't deny that his doppelgänger had been helpful. Friendly. It's still twisting him around a bit. Something he would normally trust coming from someone he feels like shouldn't.] He was welcoming. Pointed me at a place in the Down called the Arena where people can seek out fights to keep their skills sharp.

[If she closed her eyes, Amelia could believe for a moment that they hadn't been transported to some fucked up, sex-crazed shithole of a city. To better keep her focus on the reality of the situation, though, she keeps her eyes wide open, focusing on nothing in particular as she looks out her bedroom window.]

I've heard a few things of them. If you have more information, bring it home to me. [Dreams, this isn't home, but if Aloïs is here, she can pretend it is.] We can go over all of it alongside pins I have on a map of the Down. [Anything to keep them both as safe and informed as possible.

Ahh, the Arena. This is one thing she can speak of easily.] I've been. Its fighters are very skilled, and it's worth both of us taking time there when we can't spar with each other any longer. Be warned - some of them have magic, and they'll use it while sparring if they get a chance. [Kainé hadn't used it at her during their match, but there's no telling if the other fighters won't. Amelia can't speak to them or their methods.

Exhaling a short sigh, the rogue takes a minute to think before continuing.] You don't trust him. [Best to lay that on the table.] But he didn't threaten you, and I assume he didn't turn his weapon on you while the two of you were fighting off the Rubies. Aside from the strangeness of his face and his magic, I don't see him as a direct threat right now.

[Still, something's not adding up here. Her lips press into a thin line and she tilts her head slightly.] What haven't you told me about him?

Aye. It's fodder for the map for sure. [The beginnings of mapping out the trouble in the Down and finding a way to squeeze a place for them both into it. Then, a thoughtful beat.] Pins?

[So she's been to the Arena. Good. When their impressions of the city line up, it makes it easier to build an accurate picture of what they're dealing with. He's already planning on visiting the place when the inevitable need for the release of a fight comes for him. To her impression, Aloïs only nods.

But the rest of what she has for him starts a pulse of indignation stirring in his chest. Nothing she's saying about Chris is wrong, but it doesn't line up with his own lingering suspicions. The vague and unnameable refusal to accept something that feels like a cosmic trick.]

There's no tale here I haven't already told. [There's a grimace in his voice. He wouldn't lie to her. Especially about something like this.]

But things like this --red skies on the eve of a job, three ravens all on a bough together-- they're ill signs. [Signs that, he's sure, have paid off well for him when he's been wary of them.] Someone's fucking with me.

[...right, if it's on his device, he probably hasn't seen it. Amelia swallows her momentary frustration and nods to herself.] I'll explain later.

[When he continues down the path of suspicion without reason, though, she sighs. He's always been one to see signs where there are none. Sometimes, it's helpful; it can keep them wary when they would otherwise assume safety. Now? While they're trying to lay down roots in a place that refuses to take any seeds? She could thrash him for this coming up now.]

Bullshit. If there was nothing more, you wouldn't be nervous. Even without seeing you, I can hear it in your voice.

[There is more to all this, and she can feel it. Aloïs hiding it only makes her more certain of it.]

Tell me or no, I will find out. This is important, and I need to know everything.

[She hesitates a brief moment.] There's nothing I won't protect you from. I will burn this city down for you if it comes to that. If you need to come home before we speak, that's fine, but don't speak of omens just because a man with your face helped you in a fight.

[The grimace on the rogue's face deepens at the insistence that he's lying.] I'm not holding anything back from you. It's not my way with you, and hasn't been for a while.

[The incident of Yvain notwithstanding. This is so far from that.]

And I'm not afraid of him, [he rebuffs. And he's not-- or so he thinks. He's wary of what all of this means.] If anything, he's afraid of me-- or was, anyway. [It's what settled some of his immediate hostility. Unless it's the result of a job being upended by the target unexpectedly, fear speaks to him of sincerity.

But she's been right about him letting his cart get ahead of the horse with his snap gut judgements before. Aloïs sighs.]

All right, then how would you approach something like this? [There's a touch of stubborn grumbling there, but he's listening.] Because the way I feel, I don't want touch this with a ten foot pole.

Edited 2022-06-07 16:23 (UTC)

[He sounds sincere as he says all this, but Amelia's still skeptical. This is different than what happened with Yvain, but there's still... something there. It makes her vaguely uncomfortable, even if she can't find the right words for it.]

The two of you obviously had a rough first meeting. I'm certain there's plenty on both sides that went poorly. [She'll give him that. It's unlikely Chris enjoyed meeting someone else with his face, especially one as aggressive and quick to judge as Aloïs.]

Then don't. Leave him to me. I need to speak to him, learn more about him, where he comes from, and what he can do. [This mage could be useful for a large number of reasons.] The meeting doesn't have to be anything outside a polite conversation and exchange of information, but knowing more about this other man can only help us going forward.

[She pauses, letting all that sink in, before speaking again.] What was his name? I can find him through the network and make contact there.

[Amelia freeing him to back off and leave the matter unaddressed strikes him as wise, even as the prospect of handing off a problem of his own to someone else feels like coddling. That rankles some. All of this seems obviously suspicious to him, but if it ends up something that genuinely requires dealing with, he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. He doesn't like the idea of handing that aspect off.

But Amelia seems to accept the matter as is, however cautiously. Even seems to be considering the idea of opening up the idea of doing potential business, if his read on her words is right. She doesn't seem to think much at all of his notion that this might be trickery.

Her judgment holds sway the way it always does, but he trusts his gut on this, too. Aloïs frowns.]

Chris. I don't know the last name, but if you look him up, the picture'll give him away.

[Ugh. It's hitting him all over again. Weird-ass unsettling shit.]

You really thinking of feeling him out for help?

Edited 2022-06-12 18:58 (UTC)

I'll find him. [A first name is all she needs with a network full of names and pictures at her fingertips. Once she has a full name, she can reach out to him and begin the next steps in all this.]

Yes. [No need to lie about that.] But I also need to feel him out, as a person. I need to know and understand who and what he is. We've never-- [An annoyed beat.] This is a new situation for us, and I'd rather take the time to investigate someone who isn't eager to attack us than to dig into someone who wants to tear us down.

[If what Aloïs says is true, there won't be any issues with her speaking to Chris and digging into his life. If there are, she'll be the first to admit her second's feelings of paranoia and suspicion were correct.]

I'd never contract him, but he may be someone we can bring in for the occasional job. A mage is a powerful asset in the right conditions. [And unless there was an overwhelming need to contract someone who wields magic, Amelia would never bring one into the family for Aloïs' sake. She won't say it aloud, though, to spare him the thought that she'd sacrifice an opportunity like that for him. It wouldn't be a pleasant conversation.

So, time to change the subject.]

Come home, if you can. One dust up is enough for today. We can pick up investigations tomorrow.

[He can't say any of her instincts or ideas are wrong. If he encountered someone comfortable in a fight and who seemed to have useful knowledge about their surroundings, the least he would have done is feel them out, too. Magic on its own is more iffy, but a lot of that depends on what kind it is, a person's opinions about their own abilities, and how they use them. Someone with practical powers and who has restraint is okay enough.

But he still doesn't like this. It's starting to seem like Chris' suspicion that they'd have trouble ignoring each other even if they tried is on the mark. Aloïs sighs gruffly. He just hopes Amelia knows what she's doing, even as he trusts that she can handle herself.

All other things aside, the invitation to home is compelling. He has a few minor wounds that need tending to, anyway. Amelia's right: the best thing for today is to pack it in for the night.]

I'm on my way. [And so he is.]

If you're really gonna do it [Check Chris out] you're gonna want to be politic about it. [Not that he thinks she wouldn't be, but there's a particular reason that he trusts she won't find surprising:] I pulled a blade on him. Didn't cut him, but came close. [It was the right move in the moment, as far as he's concerned, but he doesn't know if it'll cause problems for her or not.]

Edited 2022-06-12 20:41 (UTC)

[Home is safe, or at least safer than the streets, and Amelia can put her hands to good use checking Aloïs' wounds and patching him up. She'll feel better knowing he's not getting beat to hell again.

The revelation that he almost cut Chris doesn't surprise her. When faced with something so unknown and unexpected, she likely would do the same. It's probably best he didn't actually strike the other man, but it's doubtful she would've been angry if he had. So long as it hadn't turned into some larger, unnecessary incident and inconvenience, Aloïs has her full confidence.

A small, soft chuckle escapes her and she nods to herself.] I'll be as diplomatic as I can be with him. He may not even want to see me at all after this, but it seems best to try. If nothing else, I can assure him we don't intend to move on him or anyone he's connected to. That'll be enough.

[She hesitates for a moment, her expression softening. She almost drops her defenses enough to express her worries, but decides against it at the last second. He doesn't need her to say that; it's something they both know. This incident is troubling, but they'll make their way through. It'll be fine, one way or another.]

I'll be ready with physician's supplies and bandages when you get back, [she finally says.] You'll be ready to hit the streets again after a night's rest.

Aye, good enough. We made an agreement to warn our people about each other anyway, so... consider yourself warned. [His one and only 'people'.

But he's not worried about that with her. Between him and Chris, he's sure he stands out like a sore thumb to her. They've known each other too long for him to not assume that's the case. The thought makes him smile slightly to himself. He can trust her with this, and to take care of herself. He knows it right down to his bones, and the notion brings a certain kind of peace with it.]

Thanks. I'll see you soon.

Edited 2022-06-12 21:41 (UTC)

Secret Keeper. This one: Bela Talbot. She's a contracted dominant and lives in 029-A in the tower.

[In a separate text, Aloïs drops a link to Bela's directory entry.]

She used to be more of an independent agent, but we talked about information-sharing and gathering, and she's willing to pay. I'm thinking a partnership of some kind is a better idea. Not sure if she's a candidate for the Family [the new one] but she's something.

Edited 2022-06-19 16:40 (UTC)

[Interesting. Amelia takes a moment to briefly scroll through all of the available information on Bela before she speaks.]

I agree, based on your short assessment. Once I complete the contract we've taken on, I'll reach out. We'll start with overtures of partnership, and adjust our course as necessary.

Thank you. This will be invaluable for us getting started.

Sounds good. I'll talk to you soon.

[Having fed what he needed to her, Aloïs finishes their communication with their chosen phrase signaling as much, and then turns his end of the feed off to continue making his way through the city.]

Amelia. Wanted to thank you for lookin after Little Thunder, but I'm back now. Have done for a few days.

Trip was cut short, if you didn't see Jack's post on it.

Anyway, wanted to let you know I intend to take Thunder to the Midnight Theatre for a time, I'm moving in with my contract partner for the foreseeable future. My home is still available to you, should you have need, but I- [He cuts off and finds he's not sure how he was even intending to finish the sentence.]

I wanted to let you know. Thank you for helping and caring for her, you can always visit to take her out for a bit, if you'd like.

Edited 2022-08-14 07:21 (UTC)

[This is not the kind of message she expected to receive after seeing the message on the network. She has to take a few moments to breathe through a few thoughts and curses she'd normally throw at Aloïs before she can message Chris back (message, because if she calls, she might come off sounding like the over-invested, vaguely frightened mother she's currently playing at being).]

I would like to see her regularly, if possible. We've developed a routine with my visits, and she's beginning to learn commands and tricks. Nothing extravagant, but I hope you'll find her behavior more amenable to suggestion after my work with her.

But Chris - will you be all right? I'm certain your partner is there to help, but to move away from your home after the trip...

[No, best not to pry. It's obvious something is not sitting well with him. It's not her place to ask, either.]

I intend to leave your home in peace. It's not mine, and I've no reason to go if Little Thunder is with you. Should I need it for any reason, I will inform you immediately.

Please take care of yourself. If there's anything I can offer, as a friend, consider it yours.

[He's a little surprised to see the text, but he doesn't question it. Text was easier for getting words out, he'd only offered voice out of a thought she might prefer it, if she didn't....well.]

I think that can easily be arranged. You're welcome to take her out, even have her over as you like. She'll need trips to the up for the open air. I don't know how long I'll keep her there, but for now it's to keep an eye on her when I'm not staying the night with her.

I'd bring her with me but there's already a dog and a cat in the house.

[And he didn't know how she'd get along with Jon and Martin either.
Which....he debates a long moment before continuing.]

He's worried for me, he wants me close but he has other partners he can't simply leave behind to stay with me either. Plus, his house is bigger.

I appreciate the offer. Company is occasionally good right now, but I appreciate your talking with me and understanding as well.

[It's not... quite what she's expecting for a response, but it helps to know he's being cared for. Perhaps in a very crowded space, but there's still care being administered. That counts for plenty.]

Would it be better if I simply took her for a time? My lodgings are in the Up provided housing, and I make the effort to go out every day. She and I could practice a lot if she stays with me until you're ready to take her back.

[Not that she'll ask Aloïs before she does this, but they can make it work. Chris seems to need to get some amount of weight off his shoulders, and this is something she can easily take.]

Do as you need to. If someone has space and time for your needs, that is where you should be.

My offer will stand as you recover. You owe me nothing when I offer my time and presence freely.

[He smiles a bit to himself, some measure of affection in him for the offer. It was a silly feeling.]

Your offer's much appreciated, but I think I'd rather her at the theater. There's a courtyard and some other creatures there she might make friends with and I'll see her whenever I'm in.

Plus, I know one of my guys there will spoil her rotten, it'll give you plenty to work with meantime.

[She's not terribly surprised he declines, but it does leave her feeling a little useless. Another reason it's best this is a text conversation: she can brush off unnecessary feelings and move to end the conversation more quickly.]

I trust your judgment. I'll come by sparingly to take her out. I've grown fond of her, but I don't want to crowd you and yours as you recover.

If there's anything else, you know how to find me.

Thank you, Amelia. Your offer is much appreciated

[ It's not Amelia's inbox but her mailbox that contains a message. It's attached to a package wrapped in brown paper. Inside is a sleek black box containing an ornate throwing dagger with a vague glow about the inset stones. The note in the package with it reads: ]

Amelia -
Right now on my world it's a holiday called Satinalia. Its when we give gifts to those we're happy to have in our lives and while I'm not what you would call a religious man, I certainly am one to show appreciation to my friends.
When you throw this dagger, you need but think it and it will be recalled to your hand. Mind your reflexes though as it does return with a high amount of speed. I've seen you in action, I'm sure you can handle it.
- A. Hawke

[This might be one of the most incredible and well-made gifts Amelia's ever received. It's certainly the most practical of beautiful gifts she's received in her years. She takes time to test it out before sending Hawke a message, an eager smile on her face the entire time.]

The craftsmanship of this weapon is unmatched. This is truly breathtaking, and it works exactly as promised. Thank you.

When next we see each other, tell me of Satinalia. I enjoy hearing things about where you're from and why they're important to you.

[And then, maybe, she can find the right times to gift him things, too.]

[ He knew Amelia would appreciate something practical, though he couldn't resist putting a personal touch to it. She was one of the easiest on his list to get a gift for, which is hardly a bad thing. He appreciates someone who knows what they want. ]

There's not a lot to tell there. It's the holiday where you go around and make sure everyone has enough to get through the winter. Gifts are usually more like blankets and cured meat where I grew up. Its warmer in the north though, so the gifts tend to be more varied there.

I'm very glad you like it.
And that the enchantment is holding! Its one of my first so if you notice anything off with it, please let me know.

So I should be asking if you need anything for the winter now? I know you have money and can buy things for yourself, but if it was a holiday that you should be getting gifts for as well...

[That's a little forceful and she knows it. After their therapy session and all the struggles that brought up... She sighs a little to herself before sending a follow-up.]

You don't have to tell me. That was a very poor joke on my part. I can find other, more appropriate reasons to gift you things in the future.

[Is that better? It feels better. ...she will assume that's better.]

You did the enchantment yourself? I will certainly let you know if it ever doesn't work as promised, but I assure you it's working now. I'll test in more to be certain.

[ He's about to reply that she needs to calm down, it's just a holiday, when she does it herself. Tone is entirely lost in text and this is not the first time he's lamented it. He's relieved though, he doesn't want to have another discussion of boundaries. ]

I did. I've been learning a bit of magic outside what I would have been able at home and its fascinating. Enchanting isn't really considered magic in Thedas but in many other places its a core school.
I have to wonder if it does still work that way back home but we just don't know because we don't practice it in that way.

Sorry. Got a bit excited.
In any case, you don't have to get me anything but if you would like to, you have my permission so long as it's on your world's gift-giving holiday.
Apparently every world has at least one.
Earth has quite a few. One where practitioners get eight presents. Seems like quite a lot to me if you have a long list.

It's a possibility. Magic seems to have many names for the same thing, from what I've observed around Duplicity. I don't have any use of it myself, so take my word purely as an observer.

Why are you apologizing? I see nothing you've done that requires it. [She was the one who overstepped in this conversation. Hawke's excitement is normal and welcome in her mind.]

I imagine people who follow the holiday have ways of handling that, especially when there's so many other holidays to worry after for gifts.
Where I'm from, we give gifts as occasion calls for it. Natal days and anniversaries of important events are the main reasons, and holidays are... not quite the same. People celebrate a good harvest by spending time with those they love, having a bountiful table for a few nights, maybe a gift if it was especially good. But I'm not a farmer, nor did I ever have any reason to join people at their tables.

[Though, there is... one day... Amelia's hesitant to share it, but she knows she can hold parts of the story for it back when Hawke's not in front of her.]

My family had one occasion particular to them. The coming of Spring and opening of trade routes from regions covered over by the snows of Winter was a time for celebration for many merchants, and my family celebrated with an opening of our home to friends and family alike, offering from our table and sharing joys until it was too cold to stay outside around fires. It was something I used to look forward to, before I lost them.

[She'll neglect to offer that the celebration folded in with her birthday, and that she hasn't celebrated that since they died either. It's hard to keep traditions when you're the only one who remembers them, and when those you celebrated with were taken shortly after the last time said tradition was celebrated.]

That's a lovely tradition, one I think we would do well with here in the city.
I'm going to remember that, if it wouldn't hurt too much to celebrate in their absence.
We have something a little like it in Wintersend, but that's less about friends and more about everyone's mothers trying to set them up with each other. Or proposing to your sweetheart, if you're already so inclined.
But the spring part is the same spirit.

Does your lot do maypoles and cornhole too? I miss that from Ferelden in the spring.

[Dreams, why did she mention this? Why did she think this was a good idea? ~~Because she's the Queen of Bad Timing and Decisions, that's why.~~ He's giving her an out, but he wants to do this, so she can't really say no, can she?

It takes her a few minutes to gather herself for a response, and he's likely to notice a certain question isn't answered. Directly, at least.]

The beginning of Spring is often a time for proposals. New life brings with it a reach for many forms of new beginnings, including marriages. I don't recall mothers or matrons trying to set their children up, but I wouldn't be surprised if the nobles had taken that up.

Maypoles I know. The dancing with the ribbons around a tall pole or slim tree, yes? It was popular among younger people back home during the spring months after the weather was warm enough. You'll have to teach me about cornhole, though. It's not a thing I'm familiar with.

It would be good to have some amount of celebration in Spring.

Oh its a game popular where I grew up.
You have a propped up wooden board with various holes on it and each are worth different points when you toss a little bag of beans through it.
Used to have some ale and play it in the yard with my brother and father sometimes.
And Cullen when he was here. He's from my world, stuffy as anything. Used to run Haven, but he was from where I grew up, or in the same country at least.
Sometimes you just need to blow of steam with a countryman even if he's often a pain in the ass.

[ He can tell in how she's clipped that last sentence that this might be something that's a bit difficult for her, so he's letting the conversation meander to other things. Better that then feel poorly right now. ]

[She's grateful he doesn't ask more about the holiday. Focusing on anything else is far easier than that particular celebration.]

We would have to drink to make it fair between us. My aim is rarely off, and I've had plenty of practice here in Duplicity.

You'll have to tell me more of Cullen and the others of your world that you've known here. Even after everything you've told me, there's so much I don't know and could learn. I'm not asking so I can hold things over you - I truly want to know about your world, including you. It's my way to be curious and to understand before I try for anything more.

Should you need it to be an exchange, though... I am willing. There's little I feel important enough to share outside the large details, but I'd be glad to tell more to a friend who asked.

Oh really? Such confidence for a game you've never played! I'm a master of it so we should see if you measure up first before deciding who needs a handicap.

[ He grins at his phone, enjoying the friendly rivalry. He knows she's probably right; a successful rogue's accuracy should hardly be questioned, but where's the fun in that?

His grin fades into a more accommodating little smile at her talk of exchange and assurance that she's not trying to hold anything over him. Ah, Amelia...]

I didn't think you were and anything I share is freely given, not a commerce of information, though if you want to share in kind I'm certainly eager to hear anything you'd like me to know.

Cullen is a strange sort of story. I don't know if you have any in your life like this but we started out enemies. He was a ridiculous caricature of a man at first.
'Mages arent people like you and me'
Said that straight to my face, never realizing. Some templar he was, not recognizing an apostate right under his nose. And virginal to boot. Couldn't even say the word whore when referring to an actual brothel.
But for all his faults he still somehow kept in sight what is right. He spoke out against his commanding officer when she ordered him to kill my companions and me, even fought beside us against her. And he continued to try and be a better person even after.
Even here in Duplicity he ran Haven hospital and supported a magical healing wing of it for those that mundane medicine could not help, and he provided a cure for my love of an ailment that is heretofore incurable in Thedas.
We became friends
I think friends is the word but more importantly I respect him now, more than I ever thought possible.
I hope his life has gotten easier since he returned home.

[ Funny, he'd not really ever put all of that out into the world before. He's not sure he could, at least not to anyone from Thedas. He does wish a little now that he'd been able to tell Cullen of that respect. Hopefully he picked up on it, but Hawke has his doubts. Even if his heart is mostly in the right place, Hawke doesn't consider Cullen the brightest candle in the votive stand. ]

Best two of three? No need to place all our confidence into a single game.

[Hopefully it's not a game that runs too long. Otherwise they're in for a very long day when they get around to playing.

Hawke's story is a wonderful one, full of the kind of respect and appreciation one has for someone they care about as deeply as can be had between friends. She smiles as the messages roll in, taking them all in eagerly. She's glad he had a friend like this here, and she finds herself hoping he's found more of them as time has gone on. It doesn't need to be said for it to be true: Hawke deserves friends who care so well for him, even if what they truly need is someone to sit and play games with for a time.]

I hope the same for your friend. He sounds like a good person, and an even better friend to those around him. The world is too unkind to some of its best when they need it most, and Cullen sounds like one of them. He deserves some rest after what he's been through.

[As does Hawke, but... she won't say it again. That's a thought she can have, but not speak. Her smiles fades a little and she sighs.]

For this game, where is it best to play it? From how you describe it, we should be outside, but I don't have a yard for hosting such a thing.

He's alright. Certainly a good friend to those who he decides to be a friend to, though he can still be difficult to get along with for his rigidity.
He does deserve a rest though, you're not wrong.

[ The same can be said for everyone in Thedas, if he were honest. It's a frantic place with far too much going wrong. Everywhere. All at once. ]

Outside is right. We could bring it to the beach or something. There might be a board set up at one of the parks even.
If not, its easy enough to make. I'm handy enough with tools for that.

The beach or park sound wonderful. We can make an afternoon or day of it, invite any friends who might also need a game and a drink to get away from their thoughts for a time.

[Dreams know she could use it. She won't say it, but even she realizes it.]

Perhaps when spring comes again? Shaking off winter in the warmth of the spring sun would certainly be pleasant.

Perfect idea.
What about you? Any games from your home you miss?

[ Share and share alike, Shadow Mistress. ]

[Thinking about home, her real home, like this is painful. She's glad he can't see her face or hear her voice. She's even more glad she has an easy answer to this.]

Not particularly. I was head of the House - I didn't leave myself time for games. When I did play, it was usually while I was working. Cards and dice were the most common, though nobles and aristocrats always had a fancy for 'Never Have I Ever', especially when drunk.

Very easy to pick pockets or slip off jewellery while they're drunk and playing that game in particular. That was more sport than anything else for me.

You're a consummate professional

I've played that one, actually. It's so strange to me how nobility in particular are so afraid of anyone knowing things about them and then just go get drunk and spill it all at parties.
It makes them easy marks for more than just pick-pockets.

I have to be where I'm from. Someone has to make sure the House is always prepared and in order.

[The others need their freedom, not her.]

You're right about all that. Why they feel the need to hide compulsions or desires that are rarely cared about doesn't make sense to me, but it certainly made my life easier in many ways. Secrets are my trade, after all.

Seems nobles are all the same, no matter the world they're in.

[ He'd meant it as a tongue in cheek sort of joke but he's not really surprised tone is lost in text, especially with Amelia. She's not used to this sort of thing yet. ]

Absolutely true. Self interested pissants most of them.
You know one tried to feed me to his wyvern and then throw me off a cliff?

I'd ask what the occasion was that prompted this, but I suspect it doesn't matter. Nobles will find any excuse to have people fed to exotic pets or thrown off cliffs.

That said, if you want to tell me the story sometime over a drink, I'd like that. I can pull out a few of my own stories of crazy things nobles have done. None of them involve wyverns, but I do have one where a duchess barely half my size tried to throw me out a window.

I do absolutely have to hear that one
We can go for drinks later in the week? Exchange ales for stories.
For now I need to pack up and head across town for my other job.

Edited 2022-12-09 06:23 (UTC)

A sound plan. Choose a day this week and it's yours. I have nothing requiring my time yet this week.

Try not to overwork yourself, Hawke. I want you to be able to enjoy those ales.

Considering most of what I do at either job is watch people and walk around in circles, I don't think there's a danger of that.

I'll let you know when I'm free.

Apologies for making your visits to Little Thunder more cumbersome. I hope you and she have been well.

[Thank any gods in existence that he's returned. If he'd been asleep for a month as well...]

Think nothing of it. I worried for you more than my visits. Others let Little Thunder down for me.

Are you well? I'll not crowd you by asking to visit. You don't need that, I'm certain.

I will visit with you when next you come for my bird since that is already set, surely you won't mind babysitting two birds?

I'm annoyed for having slept, more annoyed for having gained additional memories in the sleeping, but the content of them was [How does he put this?] helpful. And some closure to a few things, even if I'd all but put them out of mind

It wouldn't be the first time I had. More time with both of my birds sounds delightful.

That sounds like a decent way to sleep, if one must. Closure with things going on back home is rare for those of us here. I've not asked before now as it wasn't my place, but if you wish to talk of home, know you have my ear. It's good to hear about worlds more like to mine than Duplicity.

Though... now that you are well again, I have a question to ask. A favor, if you need it to be one. [This seems a terrible time to ask, but if she didn't, would she really be the Queen of Bad Timing and Decisions?]

Aloïs' natal day is coming. I have a gift for him already, but I'd like something more akin to what we're used to from home to offer with it. You bake, yes? I've heard and seen you mention it before. Do you know how to make something like what one could find on a table from your home?

I admit, I wouldn't know where to start, bnut I'm not against it.

[Or if he should tell her of his fate...maybe not. Besides, there's this convenient request in front of him now and he'd much rather indulge that.]

I certainly can. Honey cakes with almonds or pecans if he's a preference? Maybe some figs or fig jam, if that appeals.

[She'll simply have to ask after his homeland again once she has him cornered in a kitchen. He'll make for an easy target then.]

Dreams, you can make honey cakes? It's been months since we've seen anything like that. Pecans would be best, I think.

What supplies do you need for them? I can collect them and bring them to you at Marzipan Terrace. Take Little Thunder out for a bit while you work. [And then relentlessly ask him questions, of course.]

I'll be happy to teach you, if you'd like.
But that's fine, I can do honey cakes with pecans.

I've got most of what I need here but the pecans themselves.

Oh no, you wouldn't. The most involved cooking I can manage is making tea. Everything else is best left to others.

I would gladly keep you company while you work, though. Choose a time and day and I'll arrive with pecans in hand - and anything else you or Little Thunder might want after your unexpected absence for the better part of a week.

[Amelia? Spoil her brats? Of course she will.]

Alright, then your company alone would be just fine.

What day is his birth specifically? Could make it up to three days in advance to keep it freshest.
But no, I'm alright, thank you Amelia. Just need a bit of time to get my head back on, but I'm doing fine otherwise.

[Which isn't a lie, at least. It was complicated, but not overwhelming.]

[She'll allow him that time. For now. He might be in for more than he's expecting when she comes over.]

The eighteenth of this month. The closer to his natal day we can bake, the better. I would love to give him fresh treats. Things have been

[No. No she won't finish that though, thanks.]

I want to make sure the day is a good one for him. He deserves a good day after recent events.

[What a dodge of her part in all this that is. She's going to take it, though.]

We can make that work.

[He reads over the message a couple times before deciding a push is in order. Something small to start.]

Did something happen?

[...no, she's not doing this right now.]

Everything is fine.

What day works best for baking for you?

Interesting

I would have thought lying would be easier through text

We're not having this discussion now.

Answer my question, please.

Really? Seems we're at an impasse as you need an answer and I'd like to have one of my own

I will sit in the yard of Marzipan Terrace for days until you invite me in to bake if you keep this up.

Let it be. I'll have more to say in person.

[Much of which will be forms of "everything's fine" but it still counts.]

Oh I'm sure.

[He's sure she's going to make it difficult, but he'll just have to make sure his usual tools are sharp that day.]

The 17th will be fine

[Finally. She sighs.]

I'll be there the afternoon of the 17th with the pecans.

[There's a few minutes pause before she adds:] We'll talk then.

as you say, dear lady.

[His voice on the line is crisp, tinged with an undertone of annoyance. There is no preamble greeting. He cuts straight to the heart of it.]

I'm assuming you did not sanction your subordinate to stalk me for the past several nights and openly threaten me over our most recent encounter.

This is my courtesy call to you in light of our previous business venture. He'll be walking home to you of his own recognizance this time to be dealt with as you see fit. Should he ever threaten me again, that will not be the case.

And should you and I have further business dealings, I don't want to so much as see his face. Whatever you need him for is in the background. Understood?

[Dreams. Of all the things to receive a call about. Amelia sighs before answering.]

You're correct in your assumption about my second's actions. Thank you for informing me of what's been happening. [She sounds less than pleased, though she's attempting to keep a polite tone.]

I understand where this leave us. Send him back to me. I'll see it taken care of, and my House kept in line going forward.

You'll not see him again. Thank you for your call, Mister Frost.

[She ends the call, then starts throwing knives into the cutting board she's pinned to the wall. Fuck.]

Ms. Royer, I have another business proposition for you. It's nothing like the first, and it would involve you alone. I'm soon opening a BDSM club in the Down and am in need of those with the proper temperaments to serve as professional dominants.

If you're interested, you can meet me at this address between the hours of 7PM-9PM to discuss the details. Come to the lit doorway in the alley to the right of the front door.

[He includes a map pin.]

I look forward to hearing your answer, regardless.

Edited 2022-12-03 23:08 (UTC)

[This is unexpected. Not that it's for her alone, but that he made the offer at all. She's curious, and she could use the chance to... not be in her own mind for a time. The requested time to meet leaves her a chance to prepare herself and some questions, too.]

I'm intrigued, and flattered that I came to mind in your considerations.

I'll be there to discuss your offer. I have many questions, some of which I'm sure you'll answer with the formal offer.

We'll speak soon.

Of course. I'll answer them all when you arrive.

I'm looking forward to it. Until then.

Tell me you're free sometime this week.

[An unexpected and very welcome message.]

For you, my dear sorceress, I can be. My evenings are a little less free than previously, but I still have plenty of days and a couple of nights.

What is your desire?

Namely? Fucking you until you forget your own name. Or letting you fuck me until I forget my own name. It could be both. They're not mutually exclusive.

[She never doubts how much she'll enjoy her time with this woman when her messages are so direct.]

Then we shouldn't let them be exclusive. We can each have a turn before we both attempt to best the other at the same time.

If I could have your mouth on me while I have mine on you, I might be satisfied enough to spend a few hours recovering with you.

Fair point. I can't say we've attempted that position yet.

A few hours was what I was envisioning. I don't intend for this to be a brief interlude.

Something we should rectify, then.

Nothing with you is brief. I wouldn't let you get off so easily, nor should you let me do so.

What shall I bring to you as an offering upon my visit?

Something you don't mind ending up on the floor very quickly.

Apart from that, I thought you could bring some of your knives to bed with us.

I'll have to purchase something new for the occasion. Hardly anything I wear is worthy of your floor.

Oh? I've used them only once here in Duplicity. You trust me so much as to do this for you?

[It's not asked lightly.]

You could wear nothing at all if you wanted, but I wasn't sure whether you'd prefer to chance it with the neighbors.

Why not? I have lingerie ribbons that are begging to be sliced off.

I want to make you work for my naked body this time. I'll find something appropriate for the task.

They're good for more than just silks and ribbons, if you desire it. For you, I'd offer all my best techniques.

Bold of you to think that impatience and chaos magic don't make a particularly destructive combination when it comes to complicated clothing.

You've left me somewhat curious about that, I'll admit.

Who said my clothes would be complicated? Maybe I crave something beautiful enough for you to see it.

I have a light hand when I need it, especially for delicate skin. If you've a mind to try something new, and you trust me to touch your skin with my blades, we can try something slowly. If anything should cause you alarm or push you to stop, I will pull back. Your safety is important.

Fair enough. I've yet to see you draped in something that accentuates your natural allure.

Slow would be preferred. The only blades I've had wielded against my skin before have had nothing to do with that sort of intention.

Choose your favorite color for me. I'd like some input before I go shopping.

I've experience with that as well, and I promise you now - no harm of that kind will come to you. This is for your enjoyment, nothing more. Should it cease to be so, they'll be stowed away and forgotten.

I'm sure you've likely noticed I have a particular fondness for deep purples. Or black.

Just like that? Then I suppose there's no harm in trying.

I have, but asking is polite. It also helps me find out if you're harboring secrets I should know.

Just like that. I will not hold you to completing anything that does not please you entirely.

And do you think I'm holding onto anything secretive?

Given that you've done nothing since please me since our first meeting, that streak has yet to be broken.

Not at present, and certainly not regarding me. I suspect that won't change anytime soon.

Trying new things leaves the door open to less pleasure. I'll not be upset or offended if something we try doesn't work as we'd like.

Regarding you? No. But I do have secrets to keep. As does anyone here, I'd imagine.

Just so we're clear, I do want to try fucking you with something thicker than my fingers.

Secrets make the person. I wouldn't dare pry yours from you.

[In another world, perhaps, but not here. A little mystery on both sides keeps things interesting.]

Have you acquired something fun for us to try? I'm delighted you'd think of me while shopping, if that's true.

Perhaps there'll still be the opportunity to learn.

I have some things that I haven't been able to put to use yet.
A cock strapped to a harness, for instance.

Don't offer them to me so easily. I collect them, but I'm known to use them, too.

I refuse to allow myself that chance with you.

It would be a first for me as well. Knowing you as I do, I've little doubt what wonders we'll share with it. Have it ready for when I next come by.

Then you'd find out just how swiftly I have ways of dealing with those who wield that against me.
So perhaps it's for the best you never learn what the taste of true chaos is like.

How would you want me to fuck you? From behind, burying it deep within you? Or letting you sit astride me and ride it as hard as you like?

I don't want your secrets, Yennefer. I never have. All I want from what's between us is you.

As desired as I might feel with your grip around me, not seeing your face might drive me mad. Let me ride you, stare into your face as take each other. You won't be displeased.

[ that... sinks its roots into her, maybe even more than she'd like it to, so of course, her first instinct is to not reveal how much it affects her and focus on the alternate subject of conversation. ]

I never have been.
And I believe I'd rather enjoy watching you take control while you move over me.

[It's a noticeable drop, but Amelia won't mention it. They each have their secrets and struggles, and they don't have to share them. Their relationship has never been about such things, and the rogue isn't eager to change that.]

Then choose a day or night you wish for my company. I'll make certain I'm well rested and properly attired for the occasion.

[ good grief, amelia, why did you have to make her feel things ]

Fair warning it's likely to end up becoming both day and night.
I won't be eager to surrender you immediately.

[Is it better or worse that she'll be oblivious to having done so until it's pointed out to her? She has a bad habit of stirring things when she doesn't mean to.]

Then you may have Tuesday or Thursday. I'll keep both clear for you, in case one day isn't enough for your satisfaction.

❝

DUPLICITY CITATION No. 17895
Violation: Behavior Unbefitting a Dominant
Fine: $250 + 1 day Realignment
Payments must be received within 30 calendar days, or debts will be handed over to the Remittance Facility.

❞

[A small box arrives in the mail, wrapped in dark red paper with a thin black ribbon bisecting it. Inside is a small blade with a hand tooled sheath and a note.]

Ms. Royer,

Welcome to The Crucible and Venia.
May our association be both long
and profitable.

Warm Regards,
Grayson Frost and Vanessa Ives

A bright red box with a silver ribbon is delivered to Amelia. Inside are pink snowflake sugar cookies and a fun selfie. The back of the picture reads:

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Thank you for being amazing! 💗 Elle

[A small box arrives in the post addressed to Amelia. Inside is a wooden comb carved in the shape of a phoenix. The note included is written in a fairly angular hand.]

Meels,

If you don't have phoenixes in your world, let me know.
I'll tell you about it. If you do, then I think you
already know what I'm trying to say.

Love you,
Cin

[This is a gift far more beautiful and meaningful than most she's ever received. Amelia considers it for a long time before sending something in return, a beautiful wooden mug wrapped in a soft, forest green handkerchief with Cinder embroidered in silver threads along one corner. A small note is attached to the bag the gift is in, written in Amelia's elegant hand.]

Cinder,

You honor me with your gift and your kindness.
Few are as precious to me as you.
I offer something as sturdy as you for your drinks,
and soft to wipe your brow.
Thank you, for everything you are.

-Amelia

Meels!

They're both so gorgeous. Did you do the needlework?
I'm gonna make me a leather harness for this mug
and keep the kerchief on me no matter where I go.
Woe to the asshole who dares to get jizz on it.
Thank you so much!

~Cin

[There's a present delivered the last day of the year, marked with a tag that holds the printed picture of a raven on it. A letter inside accompanies the present itself, sealed with silver wax that holds the signet press of two crossed feathers topped with a cluster of three six-pointed stars.]

May I share my bounty with you that you have plenty of your own for this new year.
A little something I saw and thought of you. Though the second one might be of use to you in the coming days.
Happy Candleglow
-C.S.

[Amelia will find two wearable presents inside the package, along with a small package of tea that has an additional note. "This is for when sleep is difficult for you. It's magical, I hope it helps."]

You know, I seem to remember you promising to make me scream myself hoarse. Not to mention sore enough to feel it for days.
When might I expect to collect on that?

[The network is having a time if she's getting this from a stranger.]

Did I, stranger? I believe a waiver and exchange of money is required for such things, as I've made no such promises to any of my regular lovers as of late.

[....Oh. Oh this is mortifying. But it could be more mortifying, as Kim looks at the message - not Chris, clearly not Chris - and then the name attached to it (also unlikely to be Chris) and then, finally, the strange name he realises is attached to his own missive, which isn't his usual. As embarrassing as it is, it at least affords him anonymity.]

My deepest apologies, I think something went awry.

So it would seem.

[It's certainly embarrassing for whoever's on the other end of this. For her, it's more information to be filed away for later, should she need it.]

Did you require assistance of some sort? A message like this seems a desperate one.

Why do you say that?

[It was flirtatious, thank you very much.]

[She hadn't meant it as an insult, but it seems it was taken as such.]

That's a mighty ask to collect on. If one is in need of such attention - sexual, I would assume - it seems a desperate plea to ask after via message rather than a call.

[This next part will not come off as teasing as she'd like, and she knows it. No reason not to say it anyway when they're far apart in understanding.]

Or is this your usual with the intended recipient of your message? They would enjoy hearing this from you, yes?

I very much believe they would, yes.
We don't always communicate this way, but it's not so uncommon.

The intended recipient is a very close friend.

[He's not insulted by the question, but it doesn't come off as teasing, no.]

[At least she can tell what she said didn't land right.]

Might I suggest a direct missive while the network is playing tricks on everyone? A handwritten note can be a very evocative thing to receive when a message such as this is included.

That isn't a bad suggestion at all, honestly.

You can add personal touches to such things, too. A scent across the page. A seal they'll know as yours. Perhaps a small gift or token evocative of what you're looking for.

The possibilities are nigh endless.

I appreciate the advice.

May it serve you well.

Best of luck getting your intended's attention.

[ A digital invite arrives! It's a photo of a very nice looking butt wearing lacy red lingerie, pulled up to show off a tattoo of a red heart with devil horns and a spade-tipped tail. Some might recognise said butt and tattoo as belonging to Harley Quinn.

Underneath, in flowy font, is written: ]

PLEASE COME TO OUR
TOTALLY ROMANTIC VALENTINE'S ORGY!

FRIENDS AND COMPANIONS AND +1'S WELCOME
BYOT (BRING YOUR OWN TOYS)
AT THE WAREHOUSE, VALENTINE'S WEEKEND (ALL WEEKEND!!)

~ LOVE AND KISSES,
HARLEY & HELLBOY ~
XOXOXOXOX

( the text doesn't come until the seventeenth, the first day that adrienne doesn't see amelia on display )

do you need a drink?
any bandages?
distractions?

[It's an appreciated gesture. Amelia's response comes several hours later, after she's finally home and showered.]

I'm all right for now. I need sleep more than anything. [And to reassure her partners that she didn't need to be fawned over.]

I take it you saw?

it was fucked up.
that drink offer's open for when ready.
make sure you keep your wrists clean.

[She almost asks about the last line when it occurs to her what that implies. Luckily for them both, Amelia's never been the type.]

I'm well, or will be soon enough. Rest and a night in will do me good. Safe arms are here for me, too.

If I'm unable to make time before next week, how would you feel about coming to mind on the 23rd for drink, food, and company? Aloïs and I are planning something that evening, and your company would be welcome to us both.

i've got no plans.
do i need to bring something?

Only your charming self. Something to drink if you're so inclined.

It's a housewarming party, nothing more. I'll send a formal invitation in a few days' time with the full details.

i'll see what alcohol i can find.
how big's the party?

No more than a dozen people if everyone agrees to come. We want it to be relatively small.

[She just wants people to fill her home for a few hours on her birthday without drawing attention to the date.]

small is good.
let me know if you need anything before then.
you helped me.

I will. Thank you, Adrienne. Expect a missive soon to--

Where are you settled of late? I'm writing the cards by hand.

i'm in the up now.
022-a.

Not so far, then. You signed a contract with someone?

i did. they gave me run of their apartment.
you should come over one day.

I'm glad you're feeling settled and comfortable in the relationship. It's my dearest hope that it works out well for you.

Once things are quiet again, after the housewarming party, I'd enjoy coming to see the apartment. I don't want to promise you time before then in case anything else should happen.

i keep an open schedule in case it changes.

the contract's still new. we're figuring it out.

I'll keep that in mind.

It takes time to settle. Aloïs and I have only recently found our footing after almost a year of attempts, and I wouldn't claim everything is easy. Patience will help.

it probably makes it easier when you see the guy. he's not in the apartment that often.

Possibly, but if it works for the two of you to have separate lives, that's equally well. At least one person I'm close to had such an arrangement with his Dominant before she left the city, and they had a good working relationship as a result.

i don't hate it. i'm not used to living with someone.
and if it doesn't work there are other fish to catch.

I have no doubt you can find someone else if this one doesn't suit your needs. You'll have another three months after the contract ends to find your next catch, too.

It will mean living in public housing again if it lapses, but there are worse things than that.

by then i might have a few other beds to crash in.
sex on the side, of course

Careful you don't grow so attached to them you don't find your way out before you have to go home for the night. City likes to keep track of that one.

Should you need to borrow one in my home for a night, though, I'm certain we can make arrangements for it.

they're already counting how much sex i have. let them

( because she doesn't yet realise )

[There's a reason to press here and keep Adrienne from landing in the People Zoo for such a ridiculous reason as not staying in her designated housing for too many night in a month. But as she did with many a young rogue in her care, she holds back. Sometimes experience and knowledge only comes from failure.

She won't laugh when it happens or remind her of this conversation. She isn't going to stop it from happening, though.]

They like to keep many counts. It's why they issue all of us a device when we arrive.

i"m almost glad it's automatic. it'd ruin the mood if i had to manually log an orgasm.

I imagine it would be headache for anyone managing the program, too. All the people claiming they forgot to log one alongside those who legitimately did would be too many to count in a single week.

especially if you have multiple orgasms.

That a usual thing for you?

not usual. but i'll never complain about it.

( it wasn't usual only because at home she'd gotten used to a quick bar bathroom fuck and go. dragging someone to her bed? she was more than content to make a longer go of it )

I'll keep that in mind for any future evenings in.

[Flirting is a good distraction from everything else happening right now. She doesn't know if they'll ever follow through on it, but Amelia like shaving more information - of any kind - on people whenever she can.]

😉
i wouldn't say no.

It gives us something to work for as we get to know one another more intimately. Something I am very amenable to.

from what i've seen so far i think it'll be a good friendship.

I heartily agree. And when I've recovered from this, we'll make time to see it properly begun.

Thank you, Adrienne. Your kindness is not unnoticed.

neither is yours.

Such is my way for those I deem worthy of it. You've endeared yourself to me and Aloïs, and we'll gladly welcome you to our home next week as a result. It'll be good to have you here for a time.

i'm looking forward to it.
and bringing a good drink.

I look forward to sharing it with you.

Until then, keep your head high. We'll speak again soon.

What waited for you on the other side of the magic door, Lady Amelia?

Do you ask what I hoped to find or what the city put me through? They're very different answers.

Tell me what you hoped to see. I'm certain we've had enough of what the city thought fair.

I hoped to find the days previous a trick, and everything as it was before the nightmares we all had. If I had to go home, I wanted it to be on my terms and not theirs.

What of you? What desires did your heart have for this?

My heart? That has been quiet for years now. There was no eager anticipation to walk through that door and return to what others call normal. They had to drag me and shove me through. I may be a puppet here but at least most of the life we have is enjoyable.

Well said. This life isn't what I'd expected it to be, but we shouldn't be stripped of it without the choice.

Is there nothing back home that you miss? Nothing you wish you could have once more?

Plenty, but why wish for things that are no longer in your reach?

What an unexpected answer. Most everyone has wants they still admit to here. Your honesty is refreshing.

Edited 2023-04-03 21:43 (UTC)

I would never want my daughter here, Amelia. She's far too young as it is, but I wouldn't put it past this place to manipulate that for their own gain.

My wife...I lost her long ago, though I'd rather her not see the man I became and how I left our daughter without a father.

[Daughter? Oh... She didn't know, and now she feels a bit churlish for pushing on him.]

I'm sorry for those you've lost. Such thing are difficult beyond measure, even when they're for the best in a circumstance.

It wasn't your choice to be here. None of us were allowed that. Someone will have taken in your daughter in your absence. I won't believe for a second you were without friends or family capable of caring for her.

It's fine. It's no one's fault but my own. I left her well before ending up here.

[ There is a long pause. It's not often that Jefferson opens up about his personal life with people in the city. He could count the number of people he's mentioned Grace and his late wife to on one hand. Even then, it was likely in casual passing. ]

There was no family, I'm afraid. Our neighbors likely took her in when I didn't return. I can only hope that's how she managed before the Curse. Anything else and it only confirms that Regina had every right to put her with a new family in Storybrooke.

[ There is another pause, a few indications of a message being sent before Jefferson finally does send a message. ]

I'm sorry for putting that on you. It wasn't my intention when I sent my first message. I wasn't entirely sure of my intention other than to see if you had returned, unlike a few others it seems.

[He's looking for someone to confide in after what the city's done to them. It's not her usual to listen in this way, but as always, everything a person wants to tell her is something she wants to hear. She's not usually the one people come to for things like this, though.]

You needed to speak this aloud to someone, in a manner of speaking. No one offers something this heavy without needing it off their chest. Perhaps you didn't intend as such with me, but I opened the door to something deeper with what I asked.

You speak many heavy things. Having no family, a curse to deal with, and a terrible loss. Those aren't things someone simply handles on their own. Not well, and not entirely.

Perhaps the next time we're offered the chance to hear from someone we knew at home, you might reach out to one who could answer your questions about how things are? I know several who were able to see loved ones from their homes this December past.

I had the opportunity to speak with Grace. Caitlin Snow, do you know her? She made it possible.

She's my Submissive, but I think we both know there are people here that are more than just their designation.

Which makes so much of this dangerous at times.

We've spoken before. I didn't know she had a talent for such things. [It's not the sort of thing Amelia would seek to use even if it was available to her.]

My Submissive is far more dangerous than the city would like, too. He was my second-in-command on my world, and he remains my partner to this day. Having him at my side makes it easier to breathe, even when my head's not clear or he's fighting to get me to listen to him, something he's done for me for over a decade now.

The city doesn't like things that don't follow its rules. Anyone here more than a few weeks is well aware of this.

She's brilliant but more with science. Tangible magic as a few from Storybrooke would call it. She used whatever gifts they had offered during the holidays. I still can't find the words to thank her.

Does he have to remind you to breathe as well? I could see that being something you would need that gentle reminder to do.

Many people seem to have used the magic for such things. I'm glad it wasn't some trick as I had feared when I saw the tables near the trees.

Some days. I try not to ask too much of him like that anymore. Things are different here than they were before. He shouldn't be my shadow anymore but my equal instead, even if the city claims otherwise.

[Maybe he's a little too buzzed for this. Maybe this is exactly the sort of shit that makes people fear Death Clerics back home.
Would that he cared even a little bit right now.]

got anyone who needs to be dead?

Always.

Where do you want me?

I need to make someone hurt.
Jacob Prince or Howard Bell. They're guards.

Will you hunt with me?

My favorite targets.

Of course I will. My blades are yours when you need them, as are my many other talents.

Where do we begin?

[She's already preparing herself to leave. She doesn't care the state he's in; they'll be able to hunt guards easily enough.]

[He lands some hundred feet from Shadow's Rest, dressed in his dark leathers and tall boots, the feather-shaped dagger she'd given him on one hip and the long pole of his unlit scythe on his back.]

Outside your door.

[He waits for her from there, but as soon as he sees her, he nods.]

I've an area in mind. I'll double check it with a Locate Person spell and we'll go from there.

[She's quick to join him, armed with more knives than what can be seen and dressed all in black. Her hair's knotted and pinned to her head with a wooden hairpin and her boots are silent against the street. This isn't something that was off the table for her by herself tonight from the look of her.]

I'll follow your lead, keep my eyes open for trouble or a target, if you tell me what our dead men look like.

[Down the streets they go, quiet save for their words. Amelia's fingers stray over her slingshot as they go, rock in the other hand to be ready to take down anyone who attempts to get in their way.]

Do you have a preference for one over the other? I'll serve them both up to you for the kill whether we find them both tonight or have to return to the streets another evening.

[Chris glances to her and shakes his head as he concentrates on pulling the energy to him he needs.]

Just the one, I think, tonight. He took a sick joy in hurting Jon, Jacob Prince. I don't want it done quick either. Matron forgive me, I want him to linger in knowing his end is coming and there's nothing he can do but weather it.

[Just as he'd done to Chris and his partner for the better part of an hour. Just as he'd done for far too long to Jon even after the other one had taken Chris away to humiliate him and degrade him. Chris had felt every cruelty done to his Archivist in that time. The whippings, the branding, the waxing, when they'd cruely shoved something into him without an ounce of preparation. He hadn't felt the shaving he'd done of Jon's pretty hair, but it had seemed to linger with his love longer than any of the rapidly healed hurts. And Chris wanted to make the man responsible know all of that and more.]

I want his blood and suffering.

[He casts Locate Person with the man's cruel sneer in mind. Chris had front row view of his face, held across from him the whole time, and it serves him now as his spell pings some 200 feet away.]

North by Northeast, a couple hundred feet. You're welcome to do anything you feel like.

She nods as she listens, taking in every detail and listening to all of Chris' wants without judgment. The want to torture the man is understandable, and Amelia's got several on her own list that will require such attention when it's her turn to choose a target.

But tonight? Tonight is for anything and everything the cleric desires. She'll make sure of it.

Her lips are pressed into a thin line as she considers what to visit upon the vile creature they're after tonight, but there's a visible darkness and delight in her eyes. "I want to make him doubt his own mind before we get too close. Make others tell him he's crazy or that he's seeing things in the shadows. If we push him into a crowd for a few minutes, I can really dig into him before we draw him someplace more quiet."

Whispers from all around him, mocking him and calling out his misdeeds. A flash of a knife and blood and the face of what will be his death staring him down as the crowd around him begins to whisper that he's lost his mind. A few grabs at his person, a clip across his ear or face with a well aimed rock, and he'll be an anxious mess by the time she's ready to release him to more physical pains.

Looking up at Chris, the corner of her lips pull up into a smirk. "What say you? Are you willing for a little show as part of all this? I'd gladly take your help if you can touch his mind while I work."

Chris' grin turns sharp with that feral note of his already settling in it.

"Oh...happily. As we go, my lady." He leads them on towards their target, the gentle pulse of his spell guiding them through to the market square he's visiting. He looks so small now, out of his element and comfortable with his own safety. It makes Chris want to destroy him all the more.

"Some tricks, then....to start." He mutters a word quiet enough for only them that roughly translates out to 'bells' and the dolorous clang of Toll the Dead begins in his target's head with mounting urgency. A necrotic, haunting, headache that only he could hear. He doesn't need to glance her way to know Amelia was already off to see her talents in play and Chris kept a vigilant eye on the crowd for any signs.

She doesn't need him to tell her who the target is before she makes her way into the crowd. She hears the cleric speak, and the sudden doubling over of one Jacob Prince is all she needs to see.

It's time to start her work.

Her weaves through the crowd are flawless, easily missed by untrained eyes. Each pass in one direction includes a touch to their prey's body - his shoulder, his waist, his hair, his hand - before Amelia gives him any peace. He's already beginning to spin in circles as he asks who's doing that and if others are hearing the bells. He gets pity and confusion from those around him, and that's when she begins a true strike.

A soft voice carries on the wind. "That's him. That's the man."

Jacob turns sharply to look over his left shoulder. Stopping in the middle of the crowd to spy who's talking about him. Or to him? It's not clear what's going on.

A low, gruff voice continues. "He's got a heavy hand. Did you see the state of them when they left Realignment?"

He's trembling now, hands searching out something to defend himself with from his pockets. To his surprise, the pocket knife he usually carries is gone. So is his device.

Another voice speaks, and finally tells him his crime. "I heard he tortured The Archivist for hours after he went catatonic."

Enraged and wanting to prove his own dominance, Jacob turns to the tall man walking beside him and shouts of his innocence, about how that damn Archivist should have just done as he was told. How everything would've been different if he'd been a real Dom to his Sub.

The crowd around him retreats, save for one figure who passes behind him, unknowable and just out of sight.

"You'll pay for your crimes," she whispers. "Death comes for you."

Jacob panics, breathing heavily as onlookers begin to question his mental well-being as he backs into them and swings about wildly, looking for his assailant.

Just as she wanted. She hopes Chris approves.

Chris watches, gaze passive as the man suffers. Good. It wasn't nearly all he deserved, but it was a good step. The look of confusion and desperation mixed with the pain as Chris reapplied the bells no one could hear. He wants more.

The man's frantic gaze falls on Chris, stone still in the throng of those around them and recognition rattles through him. "Hey! You! Submissive! Whatever the fuck you're doing, I command you to stop! I'll...I'll have you arrested!" There's a vein in his neck Chris can see a little more clearly now as it bulges lightly from his skin.

The cleric smiles serenely and turns to head down an alleyway with every expectation he'd likely be followed with arrogance and threats.

The crowd's starting to get restless around Jacob, murmuring becoming the occasional shout of "Are you sure you're okay? and "Take it home, buddy!" Incensed, he stomps his way out of the crowd, shoving people out of the way when they try to stop him.

A familiar voice whispers next to his ear, appearing as if out of thin air. "Do it. I dare you to try. I want to see you fail."

The man screams in frustration, pushing his way past the last few people to make for the alley Chris disappeared into. Amelia's already waiting for him in a shadowed corner, feet silent until he's a few yards in. By then, it's too late, and he realizes it when he turns around and finds the rogue blocking off any possible escape.

"Arrogance gets you nowhere," she chides, tone sickly sweet and dark. Her grin is wicked in all the right ways. "Except to the top of my list." She huffs a laugh. "Our list."

Her eyes flick behind their prey, lips parted it utter delight. There's no blood in the air yet, but this man is so close to it. He'll realize the truth of that soon enough. A low, dark laugh builds in her, spilling out into a cackle of delight at the end.

"Run, you piece of shit. At least make this interesting for us."

Chris is there when Amelia nods to him and the man turns. He's pulled the shadows of the alley closer and made his eyes black as voids as his wings stretch out to fill the alley wall to wall. The smile he offers is sharp and feral as Chris takes his hands from his pockets.

"Run...or beg, you worthless filth. Beg for a mercy you don't deserve and we'll see who's the better man."

There's a flash of hatred in Jacob's eyes and Chris can see how he seems to gather himself up and storm towards Chris even as the cleric doesn't move. "I don't beg to uppity subs, especially monster-fuckers like you. I bet you jerk it to him being a fucking little freak. He deserved it."

Chris' smile seems to flicker wider, unnaturally so and he cocks his head to the side. A single hand reaches slowly out towards the guard and there's a flicker of uncertain fear in the man's eyes Chris cherishes. Jacob's hand makes for the power nullifier under his jacket and at his hip and Chris doesn't pause in his movement, confident his accomplice would make short work of the man's pathetic comforts.

"Wrong answer."

Jacob moves, and it's not fast enough. Amelia's blades are at the ready, one across the top of his wrist and another across his cheek as she darts around him and then back again. All the man can do is howl in pain and hunch over, hands gripping at the cuts she's left behind. It leaves him open for the rogue to disarm and rob him, his depowering device and phone on the ground in front of him before he can blink.

"You won't be needing those anymore."

She forces him forward a step, down onto his device with a short jab with the tip of a knife between his ribs. He cries out again, trying to whirl around to see her, his feet finding only his weapon against people like Chris and Jon and Wolfe to destroy it. Unable to call for help, to prevent magic from being used against him, he tries to grab for Amelia. She laughs at the attempt, letting him brush a hand across her arm before spinning out of his reach, bringing an arm across his shoulder blades, and dropping him to his knees with a cut of her knives across the back of them.

He's made his last mistake, and the terror in his eyes as he looks up at the encroaching cleric says he realizes that. Amelia grins, grabbing Jacob's hair and yanking back hard enough to make him cry out once more.

"The only thing deserved in this place, is the pain we have for you. Only this time, you won't live long enough to enjoy it." She digs her nails into his scalp, drawing blood before she tosses his head forward and looks up to meet her cleric's eyes.

"Jon deserves better than what this place gives him. We're going to even that a little today."

Chris watches her dance with the appreciation and marvel it deserves. It is one of death and in its way it calls to him for its beauty. She jerks their prey's head back and Chris continues his approach, his attention still on her. She deserved it more.

"Even just a little is something...more than any filth of wasted life like you grant another." His eyes flick back down to the lump of flesh, panting and scared and doomed on his knees. He reaches out, hands calm and gentle as they cup the guard's face. Chris' smile is cruel and so satisfied in that breath of space.

"How terrible you only die once." It's another blink before the sickly black spreads through the man's veins, searing his blood inside his own body and pushing out. Wounds visibly spread and deepen across the man's skin and bleed him slowly. It runs over Chris' hands and their victim screams until he very sharply can't and falls to the ground. It's not a quick death, the cleric makes sure of that...but he kneels down by the man to watch every moment of it. When his final breath leaves him, Chris watches and cherishes it.

"There now...may your soul scatter as useless as dead leaves and no one else know the foulness of your touch but the barren soil you turn to. I'll be sure to tell my love you'll haunt him no longer."

Edited 2023-06-18 10:04 (UTC)

It is a pity that they can only kill this man once, but there are more where he came from. Another Chris has even mentioned to her by name. They'll find that one someday soon and end him the same as they did this one, perhaps with even more pain when they're clearer headed. Assuming he doesn't die of terror on his own first.

Amelia drops the dead man in her grasp after she's certain he'll take no more breaths, dusting her hands before noticing the blood on them. Something else to take care of, because she's not about to let this piece of filth stain her. She takes a black handkerchief from her pouch and offers it to Chris, using it or a second to start cleaning her hands of the last remnants of a life now gone.

"Have you a plan for where we should leave this example for the city?" she asks, calm and utterly without concern for how out in the open they still are in this alley. Given how dark it's become, she doubts anyone will be unwise enough to follow them in here. She finishes cleaning her hands and then begins to wipe her blades, glancing down at their prey with a thoughtful expression.

"I don't think he's worth making a statement out of, but I'll leave that decision to you. Whatever your choice, I have your back and support you." Even if all they do is stuff him in a trash bin or set the body ablaze, the rogue is ready to be fully rid of this asshole.

He holds up a hand to let her keep her handkerchief for herself. For his part, he lets magic do its thing and a gentle purple glow quickly sees the red on his skin gone without a trace.

"I've no care for the body of anything dead, he's simply a pile of meat and bone. I'm just as pleased to let carrion have him as I am to dump him in a dumpster." That said, he does take a quiet moment to offer a prayer of apology to the Matron. He was meant to offer a merciful death, even to those who'd wronged him or his...but he wasn't so good a person as that.

"Let's tuck him behind a dumpster. Lets living things eat of him as they like afore anyone's likely to notice the stain he leaves. It's all he's worth now." He pauses a moment as he turns to the body to consider where best to take it...and looks back to Amelia. "Thank you, darling. I hope that healed some small bit of you as much as it did me."

"You never need to thank me for this, Chris. My blades are ever at your disposal." The same way they are for all of her people. The corner of her mouth turns up in a smirk. "I always welcome the chance to rid this city of more filth, too."

They hardly present the kind of challenge she'd prefer, but dreams does it feel good to truly give back to this city what it deserves.

She's quiet as takes up the body and carries it to the first dumpster they can find, dropping it again without a single care for what disrespect this may be in the eyes of others. If the man didn't want to end up dead in an alley, he shouldn't have taken up the post he did with the city. In her eyes, it's that simple, and everyone else in the city's employ would do well to note the same.

Once the dumpster's been pushed into place and stopped with rocks in its wheels, the rogue cleans her hands once more as they turn their back to their work and make their way back down the way they came from. Before they step back out onto the street, she pauses them, a serious but fond smile on her face.

"May you sleep well tonight, my cleric. You deserve as much and more." She traces the air beside his face with a hand for a few seconds before withdrawing, still turned to him as she backs into the crowd on the street and disappears into them. "Call for me when you need me. I'm always here for you."

We should talk when you have a chance. Can you meet me in the Park in the Up in an hour or so?

Of course. Do you need me to bring anything?

[Is he asking for a hunt? Because she can be very ready for that.]

If you feel the need to bring anything, by all means do so.

[He's not averse to extracurriculars after they've cleared the air.]

I'll see you soon then.

One hour. [He gets a last word of acknowledgment before she hangs up and makes ready.]

As requested, she's waiting in the park an hour later, dressed in black and with a handful of hidden blades on her person. She looks as nondescript as she can as she adjusts her braid to something more tightly pinned to her head with one of her recently gifted wooden hair pins. He'll hear the faint clack of her two pendants striking one another beneath her shirt.

"Good evening, Mister Frost. What is it you wish to discuss?" She has a feeling it's about what happened during Realignment, but she'll hold for his confirmation. Best not to jump ahead of him.

When he arrives, he also looks non-descript, this time in a long sleeve olive green pullover, not a Henley, and slightly baggy black jeans with a different pair of athletic shoes than last time. These fasten with velcro. He has both hands tucked into his deep pockets.

"Realignment. I want to know if we're OK or if there are things that need to be said." He doesn't like the feeling of anything up in the air. It's much preferable with cards on the table.

He's not sorry for protecting Carver. He dislikes it felt less like something in his control than instinctive reaction. How she feels about it will largely frame his approach.

His state of dress tells her one thing: he's ready to hunt again, too. It seems they're of one mind on that after the bullshit the Creator pulled with all of LIEs.

"I'm fine. A few days rest was more than enough to get me fully on my feet again." She frowns softly. "I'm sorry about Carver. If there had been any other choice, I would have taken it. I didn't mean to hurt him the way I did, or to cause him to lose himself like that." But there's nothing to be done about it now.

"You took care of mine, when you had them. Others may have hurt them more or worse, and I'm grateful for that." There are still plenty to kill for what was done to them, to all of them, but where it comes to her own pain and what he did to Wolfe and Chris? Everything that matters is now out between them.

She nods to him and gives a little shrug of her shoulders. "If there's anything you need to say, I'll take it. Carver's had his words, so you're all that's left. Once that's out, I'll be glad to get back to the way things were." Or as close to them as they can get.

"You couldn't have known. I wasn't angry at you. I was just...trying to protect him. It kicked in harder than I expected, that instinct." He's fiercely defensive of his people, especially those he's bonded to.

"I tried to shield everyone brought to me in what ways I could. Some were easier than others." He considers Chris more than halfway one of his own, just as he does anyone who works at The Crucible, her included. "And you and I both knew it had to look real, or it would have been worse."

He shakes his head. "If you aren't angry at the strength of my response, we're good. I regret it but not the motive or the result for Carver." Only for the hurt he put on her.

She shakes her head. "We were all pushed to our limits. A few days of soreness and one bruised rib aren't enough for me be angry with you. You did what you had to, same as I did. That earns respect, not anger."

She won't say she deserved to be hurt for her part in Carver's dissociation or pain, but the thought is there. At least that was retribution that made sense. That was the only fucking part of what happened between the three of them that made sense.

This fucking city. She can't change it, but dreams will she burn and stain parts of it while she can.

"If there's nothing else, I'll ask who you'd like to go see tonight." Her lips pull into the barest hint of a dark smile. "I have plenty of suggestions, but last time we met like this, I led us. It's your turn now. Lead, tell me where you need me, and you'll have whoever you want wherever you want them."

He nods. They're in agreement. Not for the first time he finds himself grateful to be dealing with someone who understands him, thinks like him. It simplifies things when the city tries to complicate them. "We're settled." What he lays to rest stays there.

He lifts his head then, filtering out one scent from a multitude, the first to depower him after he knocked her away from Carver. "This way," he says, starting roughly northeast.

"We're going to have weeks of targets. They're going to get understaffed." He clearly relishes the idea. The malice of it contributes to his already more inhuman than usual appearance, paler, sharper. However, he's unhurried as they walk. All parts of a hunt are to be relished, not just the culmination. "I won't be using many powers tonight. I'm healing an injury. It won't hamper me. Consider it an opportunity for showcasing your skills, but leave me plenty of blood. I"m going to take as much as I can hold."

"If they don't want to be understaffed, they shouldn't behave so poorly." Anyone and everyone who comes after theirs has forfeit their lives. It's truly that simple in her mind. They don't like it? They'll learn to keep their hands, mouths, and everything else to themselves.

She walks beside him at a leisurely pace, nodding. She won't ask after the injury - if Grayson isn't offering details, then it's not her business - instead focusing on the more important part of the evening.

"I'll avoid gutting anyone." It's offered in a completely casual tone. "I can scare them plenty with directly laying blades on them, too. People are so much more breakable than they want to believe, even when they're well-built and muscled." It would be nice to snap someone's neck when they think they're so powerful and above it all. Dreams it's been a long while since she had that kind of satisfaction.

Her head tilts slightly to one side at the thought, her dark smile returning. "Anything in particular you'd like to see or have them experience? I enjoy taking requests for this kind of work." Especially given the circumstances that have them out this evening.

"Indeed." He has no empathy to spare for their captors. They've created their own problems by bringing them here and provoking them to the point of action. He behaved for months and would have continued to do so if they hadn't started tearing into his Subs. And by extension him.

"Good. They bleed far too much too quickly. Another time when resource management isn't part of the goal." He smiles thinly, eyes catching a glint of streetlight, bled of color. He chuffs a soft laugh. "In the 80s I favored gym rats when I felt particularly spiteful. The shock on their faces when they'd strike me." Something he always allowed when he knew he was going for a kill and not a clandestine feed. Why not?

"Powerless. I want him to feel powerless. If he has a partner or a spouse, he's going to watch us take them apart first. If he has children, quick, quiet kills. Leave them in their beds."

Ah, full cruelty. They're sending a message all the way up the chain tonight. Maybe not to the Creator's ears, but at least to those closest to him who manage the SIN guards.

Good.

"Done." Emotional torture before the physical. Fitting for anyone who laid hands on them during this latest round of bullshit. "Are we tailing the man home to make sure we catch all of them? If he's out, we can scare him into a false sense of security by allowing him to reach the house before we strip it from him. Let him think he's found some haven that doesn't actually exist."

Her lips purse thoughtfully. "We'll need to keep our eyes open for his phone. If he reaches for it, I can destroy it, but I need to see it and have a decently clear shot to keep him from using it."

He thinks about this question for a bit. "If he's out, I can still find his home," he says. "We'll split off. I can telepathically guide you in where to herd him." His telepathy takes less blood than his more active disciplines.

"He'll think he's running to safety when he's running to me." He likes this idea very much, his smile a scythe.

"I trust you can manage his phone. If you can"t destroy it, you can deprive him of the use of his hands." Hard to make a call when one can't hold anything. "If he's already home, we'll take different points of ingress, make him or them think they're facing one assailant instead of two." That's largely for the fear factor. He's not worried about resistance.

Her grin is wicked as she nods. "I'll manage something that keeps him from calling for help. His comrades will have to travel to his home to find out what happened to him. Even then, they'll struggle to put the pieces together with how little we're going to leave for them." The two of them are hardly going to leave a myriad of evidence for their captors to use to trace the 'crime' back to them.

She falls quiet as they get further along, eyes sifting through the streets for any wandering SIN guards, bird drones, or passersby interested in them for anything. So far, there's nothing out of the ordinary. An auspicious start to their hunt.

"Do you sense our prey? I'm ready to begin when you are."

"Yes, we won't leave much," he agrees. He'll take some blood. He won't exsanguinate. Not fully. If there are two or more there, he can be more circumspect.

He's equally watchful, senses extended, ears tuned for any hums of electronics or unnatural sounds. He nods at her question and tips his chin subtly in a direction to the East.

"I have his scent. I won't lose it." For all of that, he doesn't speed up, doesn't give an outward sign of the fact he's getting more excited. The anticipation is such an enjoyable time. It's more so with her since he knows he can rely on her now. He can tend to his own side of it.

There aren't as many out as the last time they hunted. It makes not standing out a bit more of a challenge but finding the target a bit less. Again, he simply tips his chin up and angles it. The man is walking with a determined stride and both hands shoved into his thin jacket pockets. It's a city issued jacket, the kind for the realignment staff, not the SIN guards. "I trust you'll keep him in sight. I'll see you at the house."

He peels away and even without using his powers, he's difficult to spot once he finds shadow, harder yet to hear.

Amelia's heartrate slows as she stares at the man's back, training and the calming stone at her wrist helping to settle her. There's no room for error in any hunt, but even less so now. These people tore into them, hurt the ones they love. So, as with Chris' captors months ago, this isn't merely about death. This is about vengeance.

Grayson slips away, and the Shadow Mistress makes her first move. She moves easily through the sparse crowd, exhaling the right word to be excused and ignored, bumping in the right way to blame someone else nearby. A ripple begins through their number, an agitation that spreads its way up to her target. He glances over his shoulder, seeing her but not registering who she is, then picks up his pace a bit.

Perfect.

As he pulls away from those closest to him, she slips up behind him, whispering of his fate. "You're going to die tonight." The man turns sharply, but no one is there. He glances around, trying to find the source, and eventually gives up. Amelia steps close again, drawing a finger up the length of his spine and ending it with another whisper. "It's time you felt what your victims did."

This time the man swipes for her with a hand before stopping and doing an about face, shouting for her to reveal herself to him. Again no one is there, and he digs into everyone who passes by him with a wary look on his face. Whispers begin about the state of him, about why a trained staff member would be waving his arms and shouting like a lunatic. This, as Amelia wanted, goes over poorly with the man, who shouts at the passersby that there is someone after him and that they should stop and help. The call goes unheeded save for muted laughter, and suddenly the man realizes it's time for him to go. He turns to leave, a shadow standing in his way.

"Run while you can. You can't escape your fate."

The Shadows Mistress advances, dodging past the man and into the crowd as he screams and tries to make a grab for her. When it fails and the crowd turns on him again, he panics, and immediately turns toward his home to make a run for it. A shadow follows him at an easy speed, eyes never leaving him and ears open for his panicked breaths and footsteps.

Now it's Grayson's turn for a taste of him.

Grayson doesn't hurry beyond the normal demands of night to night walking in following the scent. He takes care of his angles with regards to city cameras. In all other ways, he's unremarkable on his path. The home is one of the more detached ones in a quiet suburb. When he arrives, he realizes it has two occupants, not one. An unfortunate night and association for someone who isn't deserving of this. Pity her husband is.

He yanks the electric cable to the outside box and circles to a window at the back of the house to TK the locks and let himself in silently. The woman is in the kitchen lighting candles and muttering under her breath about the power grid, dressed in a robe and slippers, her hair in foam curlers. He lets her finish her task. When she turns with a candlestick in hand and spots him across the room, she shrieks and drops it, backing up and stammering. The candle hits wick first, extinguishing.

Closing the distance, he keeps his good hand up and visible, his sleeve over the damaged one altogether. "I have no quarrel with you," he says. "It's your husband who has brought this onto your head." He pitches his voice to command, easier to use a discipline than force her to what he has in mind. "Now come. We need to get you ready. He'll be home soon. Arrange the candles first, then meet me in your bedroom."

Her wide eyes are glassier now. She nods and turns toward the remaining lights to get them set in the kitchen and living room. By the time she joins him in the bedroom, she's carrying two. She sets one on a nearby dresser. He gestures silently toward the bathroom and follows her in.

By the time he hears the approach of hurried, panicked footsteps, he's back in the living room on the sofa with the man's well groomed, well dressed wife seated in his lap. She looks calm save for the tears staining her cheeks. He has left her enough will to understand what's happening. He'll ease up on that much control once the man is inside. Her fear will set him off, undoubtedly. Exactly what he wants and exactly why it's satisfying knowing Amelia is on his heels. His injured arm is clasped firmly around her waist. He sinks his fingers into her hair to tilt her head to the side and force her gaze toward the front door, easily visible from their vantage. His is intense from over her shoulder.

The man's rush to his home is so easy to follow a novice could do it. He's panting and muttering under his breath the whole way, fumbling with his keys as he curses about the front light being out. He calls out to his wife as he bangs on the door, his struggle sending him deeper into a panic as he looks over his shoulder and sees shadows in every person's face. It's to no avail, but eventually he overcomes his fears enough to let himself into the house with another curse and a stumble.

He's not ready for the sight that awaits him. His wife in the arms of another man, crying the whole while, sends him into a panicked rage as he reaches for anything long and heavy he can use as a weapon. The umbrella he grabs makes him looks foolish, but it gives him some amount of bravado as he turns to Grayson.

"Let her go!" His voice shakes as much as his arm does, but he stands his ground. "You don't belong here. Get out! Or I'll call the authorities."

The door closes behind him with a soft click. Too late, the man realizes he didn't bother to close it or to look one last time for his shadow. Amelia slips behind him, hand running down his arm to grip his wrist, her body far enough from his to not pin him but close enough for him to feel her warmth. She twists suddenly, wrenching his arm and forcing him to drop his improvised weapon as she pins his hand between his shoulder blades and forces him to his knees with a well-placed kick. Her looming presence just outside of his vision makes him begin to sweat in terror.

"You don't give orders here. Now, why don't you ask the man what he wants? I'm certain he has words for you." She kneels behind him slowly, searching his pockets until she finds his phone. A moment of shifting, and she smashes it beneath a knee before shoving it aside. "Don't worry. We have hours for you to get it out."

His single chuckle is a rusty hinge grate of sound. He allows the woman more control of herself, her struggles intensifying to no avail against the iron pin of his arm around her waist and his grip of her hair. "You're only hurting yourself," he murmurs to her, voice caressing. "And frightening him. Your bold protector." Some mocking makes it into the latter. All the while, he focuses his gaze on the man, hard and unblinking.

"I can't fault you if you don't recognize me. The lighting in here is regrettably low, and you were far more focused on my Submissive at the time, my Submissive and the Dominant behind you. You forced her to torture him beyond his ability to endure it. You showed no mercy to either of them and forced me to intervene." He watches his eyes widen. "Oh, yes. Yes, good. You do recall."

"I was doing my job," he protests, twisting his head to try to include Amelia in his excuse. "We all were."

He silently sends the memories of what he witnessed and felt that day to his wife, as clear as the day it happened. She stops struggling, eyes widening and more tears spilling as she looks at her husband with a different sort of expression than fear. Disbelief. Bewilderment. "I know," he murmurs to her, just loud enough to carry to the man and Amelia, too. "It's hard to see the truth about someone you love. To see that not only are they cruel, they take pleasure in it."

"What? What are you doing?" he demands, trying to start forward on hands and knees.

"I'm showing your wife what a sadistic piece of shit you are. When I'm not depowered, I can do that. More than that." He sets the feeling of an ember directly behind her sternum. Her scream echoes from the walls, body arching at nearly an unnatural angle and thrashing to try to escape it. He sustains it for close to twenty seconds before suddenly dropping the magic. Her sobs and breaths are ragged, desperate. She's shaking violently when she brings her hands to cover her face.

"I'm a sadistic piece of shit, too. I suspect worse than you. The only difference is I don't need to be told to do it as an excuse to indulge."

"I-it's not like that," he insists, looking between Grayson and his wife. "It's just a job. We're trained to be like that."

"You're trained to make us hurt others for sport?" Amelia's voice is sickly sweet and dark at the same time. "Or do you really believe you can 'teach us' to be better through physical and emotional torture?"

The man begins to tremble under the rogue's hold. The fantasy he'd built for himself, the lies he told himself, crumbling as he watches his wife recoil and cry. He doesn't answer Amelia, and she doesn't press him to either. She merely tightens her grip on him, leaning closer to murmur against his ear, just loud enough for everyone to understand her words.

"You're nothing compared to those you harm. That man with your wife in his arms is a hundred times more than you could ever dream to be. The man you made me hurt is worth a thousand of you. And I?" She chuckles softly. "You could never dream to be half of me."

Tears roll down the man's face as he tries to look over his shoulder at Amelia. Not looking for his pleas for mercy or pittance of excuses, she wraps her free arm about his neck and forces him to look toward the couch again. Her hold on him tightens to take some of his breath, the same way he'd insisted she take Carver's It feels good to give this back, even if she's not going to take it much further.

"Don't look at me," she hisses. "Look at your crimes. Face your shortcomings. You're not allowed to beg for death yet."

Grayson is silent while Amelia speaks. He forces the woman's hands down with Thaumaturgical control so she can't hide her face. He wants the man to see everything, every shift of fear, the moment when despair hits her, and she realizes there's no escape, no mercy or pity, the same realization he, Amelia, and Carver felt during the realignment. He remembers Amelia desperately begging Carver to come back to her, to be all right, watching her fear and being unable to help her any more than he could help Carver while he was depowered.

He slides his good hand up her throat and squeezes enough to cut her air by more than half. She pulls at him uselessly, clawing at skin she can't harm and breaking a few nails trying. One rips down to the quick and begins to bleed. He releases her throat to grasp her wrist and suck the digit past his lips. A preternaturally strong pull at the tiny wound takes enough blood to leave her dizzy. He feels her starting to sag against him. He could drain her dry like this. It's too quick.

The man is saying something to her. He's not listening. He hears her heart beating too hard, the sing of her vessels. He smells her fear, devours her trembling as his due. This time when he closes his hand over her throat he squeezes hard enough to fully restrict her air. Her wheezing cuts off as she claws at him and starts to kick. The man's voice rises in panicked begging, promises of anything. Anything.

He releases her again but only to prolong it. At some point, he lifts his gaze to meet Amelia's. The calmness in the pale depths speaks his satisfaction in this game of theirs together. He squeezes again, tighter, tighter. It's several more cycles of it, over an hour of it, until the man is sobbing, tears and snot making a wreck of his face and shirt. Each time she loses consciousness, he brings her back to it telepathically. Even on the final squeeze he doesn't snap her neck. He forces her to suffocate. He holds it beyond any hope of revival.

Only then does he bite her viciously, rend flesh with fangs to drink his fill and then toss her to the floor like discarding trash. "Bring him to me," he says, sanguine mouth a dripping horror.

Amelia remains silent as Grayson takes his time with their secondary mark. She holds the trembling man against her, still and unflinching in her push to keep his focus on the obscenity of having his wife taken from him in this way.

There's no escape for him. No chance of mercy. No release from the pain. Now he feels the struggle and helplessness he forced on them. Now he feels how much suffering he inflicted on them by making them hurt one of theirs. It's satisfying in a way she's needed since that first morning after they were all sent home when she was still sick with guilt, fury, and pain.

The rogue rises to her feet when beckoned, dragging the shell of a man along his knees with her. He's not worth hauling to his feet. She stops them next to the dead woman, holding his head down to look at her for a moment before she grips his chin and forces him to look at her.

"This is the prices of your cruelty and senseless need for suffering for suffering's sake." She leans close, breathing her last words against his lips. "I hope it was worth it."

A brief, angry smile pulls across her lips before she stands again, stepping behind their prey and holding his shoulders in front of Grayson. "As you like him. He's not worth the blood on my blades, but that doesn't make his blood entirely useless to you."

"Not at all." He doesn't need the gesture, raising his hand. He wants clarity for the man, awareness that he's the reason for what follows. Ribbons of blood emerge from him and not just orifices, the pores of his skin. They flow in strangely beautiful formation, like electromagnetic whorls, absorbing directly into his palm. He grows more flush as the man grows more pale. Weaker.

Before he can swoon, Grayson stops the flow, absorbing the last of what's flowing through the air. "Break his neck. We're almost done here." One last thing, but not before they're out and away.

He's going to burn the house down with such intensity, there will be nothing left for the forensics detectives to analyze save ash.

There's a brief moment where the man in her arms realizes what's about to happen and starts to panic. His eyes widen and his lips part to beg for mercy, only to be cut off with a swift movement of Amelia's hands and a loud crack. The body slumps to the floor as the rogue stands, dusting her hands off as if they'd been dirty by merely touching him. In a way, they were, and she's glad to be rid of his filth.

She kicks the man's body away from his former wife's, then steps aside. With no one else in the house and everything quiet in the darkness, she gestures to the bodies and then the door.

"Are we taking them with us?" He's mentioned the ability to dispose of bodies in the past, but she suspects it means removing them from a home filled with flammable objects. She's going to be very pleased to hear that they're setting the whole damn place alight.

"No. They were careless with the candles in the darkness. It will be a wonder if the fire doesn't spread." It won't. He'll see to that. They don't know who lives in the other houses. Simply being native to this place isn't enough to earn his ire.

"Come. I'll show you another gift of my blood." He stands and steps over the bodies to vacate the premises. He walks a good distance from the house, concealing himself deep in tree shadow before calling up the flames from the still burning candles, hotter and brighter than anything natural. In minutes, the house is a spiraling inferno of white hot destruction.

At the wail of sirens in the distance, he says, "That's our cue to head home. Good hunt. We'll do this again sometime soon."

The flames are a spectacular sight, brought about by magic she can't see and doesn't yet fully understand. Someday she'll ask him about it. Tonight, she simply enjoys the satisfaction the flames bring as they takes the house and its trash with it.

She grins as he calls an end to their hunt, eyes full of wicked delight. "Whenever you're ready, you know how to contact me. I have a list we can start on if yours becomes shorter in my absence." A small, dark chuckle falls from her lips as she turns from him.

"Good evening, Grayson," she whispers back to him. "May the rest of it be as pleasant as the start has been."

so
Wolfe’s birthday is in the 7th month

Do we have a date from him? Or does one of us need to seduce him into sharing it?

We could also simply call the entire month his natal day and celebrate him the whole way through. It would certainly get a good fluster out of him.

[Amelia? Plan to overwhelm their boyfriend like this? Heavens and hells forbid.]

I believe it's the 15th
He'll be 41 if we actually age here

It would, but I had a thought to that: spoiling him

We can arrange something for him. Together, if you like, or staggered to draw it out.

You had my attention when you mentioned his natal day. Of course we're going to spoil him. What do you have in mind?

I wouldn't mind together or seperate, as our plans shake out. Ultimately, I expect the gift he would want most is simply our time and company.

However, spoiling him into planning a day for him where he doesn't have to decide a thing is something I'd had thought of. Also absolutely wrecking him, of course. Should we take turns, we could certainly pass him back and forth.

However, I think a day where we decide how best he can help and take care of us might be a nice gift to him as well, if we can stomach it for a day.

Edited 2023-05-22 02:18 (UTC)

He'll have my time as he wants it. I'll gladly take a night or two off from work for him. It's far more important to give him my time than it is to work.

Would he be able to make it between us if we're both bringing our best? I might have to bring him to you in a cart if that's the case.

[Ah. That is a good point. Amelia takes a moment to think before she answers.]

I don't know if I could do an entire day, but I could certainly do a few hours. You're right that he would enjoy that, and I would like to give him some part of that.

He'd die happily, darling. I think a fucked-out Wolfe sounds very appealing, he does have a bit of a use kink to utilize.

Perhaps a few hours from us both then for that one? We could still decide the parameters if it makes it easier to bare.

Does he? I hadn't realized, but if that's the case, then we simply must pass him between us on and off the entirety of the month.

I'm not certain it would, but it would be worth the effort. Even setting a few boundaries could help enough to make this easier. Not that I won't struggle without having any say as he does as he likes, but that's for me to deal with, not him.

[And she can damn well keep it to herself if it means Wolfe gets to enjoy himself.]

That sounds like a perfect plan to me. We can leave marks for the other to find and decorate. Be sure to leave him messy now and again for me.

Boundaries are good. Guidelines will help.
Don't underestimate his ability to notice if you're struggling or forcing yourself for his sake, darling.
That won't make him feel good or happy

You want him messy from his time with me? [That's a thing? Dreams, she's learned something new today.

Sigh. Why is Chris so good at saying the quiet part out loud? Damn mirror.]

I know, but what else can I do? I don't let myself be that way for anyone, not fully. Not even him. Letting go completely to allow him to care for me is

I don't know how I'll do it.

I most assuredly do.
I want him well used, sore, and still wet from you when I bend him over to fuck him myself.
Or maybe I'd use the slick he got from you to ride him, I'll decide later.

[Sorry, Amelia, he's not sorry.]

Love, you don't have to do all that.
While the gesture would no doubt mean something, I think going all out like that would have him concerned and fussing the whole time.

Let him do little things. Pampering things. Give you a foot massage, help your bath, sit on his face for his trouble, that sort of thing. No need to fully submit. That should come with time and trust and he'd know it as well as you.

[...this is bringing thoughts to her mind that she's never had before. Dreams, that's... how do people phrase it these days? Hot.]

Then so it shall be. I expect you to send him back to me equally used.

I don't think you understand that they're all the same to me. Letting him have that, all of it, to its fullest extent? That requires letting go entirely for me.

There's never not too many things on my mind. There's no turning those thoughts off for me, no matter how much I love someone. Not unless I'm otherwise distracted by their body. [She might as well be honest about this part.]

I most assuredly will

[But for another time. For now, he's only growing more concerned.]

I feel you might not be understanding me as well.

Tell me what you're picturing when I invite this possibility of pampering?

Anything. Everything. Even so much as being still while someone else does something I can do myself makes me want to claw my way out of the situation.

It's not just with Wolfe. Anyone I love doing things like this for me makes me uncomfortable. I want to do things for everyone else. I don't know how to let them do things for me without going through all the stages of panic multiple times before giving up.

If I do this for him, tell him to care for me, there is no limit to what he can ask for. I can't do that.

[There's a few things there he needs to turn over, but one of them stands out the brightest. That first.]

I never said anything about letting him have his way. You would decide what he would do, what you could let him do, and then let him do it with the full understanding that he knows its an allowance by you. If you tried to sub for him on his birthday or anything so extreme, he would panic himself and turn you down.

Don't do that to the both of you.

There's no difference to me. Allowing someone to care for me? To do something I've told them to do for me when I could just as easily do it myself? It's the same thing.

There's no turning that off. I can't silence my thoughts. Ever.

You know that's the thought behind subbing: being able to turn your mind off a bit in safety.
A thought for you, unless you turn it away out of hand.

So no having him make you lunch and bring it to you where you're relaxing in your living room or preparing a drink to bring to your side? A bit of a shoulder rub for the tension?
All off the table.

[He's trying to make a point, and it still frustrates her to no end. Maybe he can find safety enough to let things go, but she can't.]

Chores I can't do for myself are a thing I would ask for, but that's different. I certainly won't be relaxing while he works. He knows I won't.

If he decides to put his hands on me, I doubt I stay still long enough for it to remain something simple. I don't stay quiet when my mind wanders and someone else is there to hear it.

Right well since all of my ideas sound abhorrent and like torture, how would you like to make the man who finds worth in himself in service feel special on his birthday?

[Dreams, it should not be this difficult. It takes several minutes before he gets an answer.]

I don't know. He wants to do the same things I do, and I don't know how to help that. I couldn't help myself if asked.

I don't want him to feel I don't love him when that's not true, but the best I could give him is a list of chores I won't

[Wait. That's it. Maybe.]

I could embroider something while he works. Let him do things while my hands are busy and I can still talk to him. There's always plenty that needs doing for a house as large as Shadows' Rest.

[There's a sigh on Chris' end, even if there's a tangle in him still. It's small and easily buried and not the point of this conversation anyway.]

There you are, darling. That sounds perfect. I'm sure you can find a way to thank him that'll please you both and he'll feel accomplished and helpful and you'll have your lovely work at hand.
I think he'll like the arrangement.

[Finally, she's done something right.]

If needs be, we can work something out together for his thanks. It may mean I take the upper hand, but I must properly thank him for all his hard work on my behalf.

I'm sorry for how much this burdens you, talking me through my panic. It's usually Wolfe dealing with it, though that's not really an option in this particular instance.

Of course you must, I'd expect nothing less.

What burdens me is not helping you, its your assumption of me. This is not easier or pleasant for me, that's why I suggested it. He'll know we're trying. For him.

[It's... not easier for him? For how often she's seen him simply give in Wolfe's prompting or not fought him when the mage started to fuss or offer care, this is surprising. Amelia takes a few minutes to sit with that before answering, eventually deciding she doesn't want to fight this right now. Chris can have his frustration and anger without her pushing back today.]

I'm sorry. Forgive my assumptions.

We'll do this for him. Struggle though it may be, you're right that he'll appreciate it. With so much time to think on it, I'm certain I can find a full list of work for him to do before I ask him to bed.

[IT's...something. Maybe if he'd said something sooner, but he hadn't thought it necessary. It's not something he wants to fight about and just as swiftly as the feeling had built, it drains away again.]

Wonderful. Feel free to send me pictures, if you like.

Pictures? Of Wolfe doing chores?

[Why would she do that?]

Pictures of the happy little smile he's going to get while he does something for you.

[Why else?]

[She is still so very confused.]

I didn't realize people took pictures of one another like that? I've heard plenty of people sending one another pictures of themselves in varying states of undress, but not simply

It's all right to do that? To take those pictures?

[She wants to be sure, but she might also be having a small panic about lost opportunities right now.]

Id encourage letting the person know since pictures here are released to others sometimes, but it is my understanding that kindly pictures are far more common than sexual ones in places with cameras

What do you take pictures of?

Things that are useful for work. Things I need reference of for later, in case I need help locating an item or am trying to find someone.

I don't have pictures of my friends or lovers just as they are every day. [Some for safety but mostly because she didn't know one could take those pictures.]

I used to be sane way. I only took pictures of foods or clothing I found interesting, buildings I wanted to inspect. But then I lost my first partner here without a single picture of him to my name.

I take pictures of my friends because I know Jon’s been here for four years and I can’t trust even my memory that I’ll retain every little detail I’d like to by that time for me.

Besides, selfishly, having pictures of those you love enjoying themselves in your presence is a kind reminder

[There's that panic she was trying to fight. She has only one picture of Cinder, and it's a terrible selfie the elf took while they were drunk on her couch one afternoon. She resolves to take a few of those she loves over the next few days after this conversation, just in case.]

You're right. I hadn't thought of it as such, but you're right.

Next time we see one another, I'd like to do something you enjoy, so I might capture that delight for myself. That selfishness is something I need to practice.

I think we can arrange that, lovely.
We'll take a walk along the beach and have a drink. Maybe I'll play some music for you.

That sounds wonderful. I'd enjoy that very much with you.

Thank you for all these ideas. I won't keep you longer. We'll speak again soon. Take care, Chris.

You as well, darling. See you soon.

The first thing Hawke is in the habit of doing when someone doesn't show where or when they're supposed to is checking his phone. It's not just to send them a message, though that's a handy thing he'll never not be grateful for after being left in the dark so many times without this instant communication method in Thedas, but to check and see if they're still in the city at all.

Alois' name is no longer listed.

He looks immediately for Amelia instead, losing some tension in his shoulders when he finds her easily but none of the ache of sympathy.

Are you at home?

Amelia's been ignoring the truth since she woke.

She hadn't checked to see if Aloïs was in when she got home from work, nor if he'd already left when she got up hours later. He wasn't in the house when she called, even though his boots remained by the door. His things were in his room, his knives left in various places waiting for sharpening or to be put into belts. Everything that he'd done or made for himself in Duplicity was still here, down to the latest, unfinished wood project he'd been carving at a table in the kitchen.

I am. Did you need something?

The truth is a letter pinned to a cutting board hanging on the wall in the kitchen with the feather knife she gave Aloïs at Candleglow. The only way it got there is if she opened it, read it, and slammed it there by hand. She refuses to believe it.

She reads her message to Wolfe again and sighs, typing one more before she lets it go.

I'm not expected at Venia today. I have time for you, should you need it.

Maybe she hasn't heard. But then, they usually send a note or something. It's uncanny how quickly the city officials get that sorted, especially considering the normal speed of bureaucrats.

I more thought you might need mine.
I'll be there soon, dear heart.

He even takes a cab, just to be there that much faster, even if Switch Street isn't far from their neighborhood in the Up. Stephen will just have to do without a guard for what remains of the day. It's not long at all before he knocks at the door.

She almost snaps at him that she's fine, but manages to think better of it. This isn't a time to start something. He has it in his mind that he's needed, and she knows better than to fight that. He's usually right as it is.

He's right. Of course he's right. Aloïs is--

No. No he's not. Fuck the city. It's a trick. He's just out without the things she expects him to have on his person. It's fine. He's fine, wherever he is and whoever he's with.

She manages a little smile for him when she opens the door. Her hands are raw from various work she's done around the house all day, but it doesn't slow her from reaching out for his hands. "Hey. Come in. Would you like some tea? I assume you've got something on your mind with asking to come by, so I've got water on that should be ready in a few minutes."

It's not obvious she's in denial, but it's on the edge of her smile, the corner of her eyes. There's worry and pain there, and she's keeping it aside. Wolfe is here, and he has her attention now. It's as simple as that for her.

She takes his hands and tries to pull him along but he doesn't budge. He holds her there too, gripping her fingers in his quietly and studying her face. He can see the worn edges, the beginning of dark circles, the furrow between her brows, but most telling is her immediate movement. She didn't even stop to greet him, her feet having tried to turn about face immediately upon getting her hands on him. It's a familiar state. Keep busy, keep moving, keep going so you don't have to think or feel, so it can't catch up to you and everything is fine.

Sometimes they are so incredibly alike.

He holds her still because that's what it takes to feel like this, because it's better it catch her here than in the dead of night, alone in an empty house. An empty bed.

"I don't need anything, love." He moves one of her hands to meet the other, holding both in a single grasp of his and closing the door behind him now that one hand is free. His voice is calm and soothing, concern apparent but reserved. He tilts her chin up towards him. "Tell me what you need. Really need, don't focus on me because it's easier."

He stops her from moving and her heart catches in her throat. That care. That gentleness. That stop for her. She doesn't need incredible insight to know what that means.

He knows the truth, the one she's ignoring. The one that isn't true.

"I'm fine, Wolfe." Her smile's too practiced, too perfectly warm, the way she tilts her head to look at him so calculated. She doesn't try to pull away from him, instead trying to reassure him of her truth. He wants to take care of her, but it's unnecessary. She's fine, because what the city says isn't fucking real. It can't be. They can't have threatened to take him away only to not and then do so less than two months later. They can't. They wouldn't. They didn't.

Her jaw tightens a little as her breath catches in her chest. No. No, she's fine. Everything is fine. Aloïs is only out for a few hours. He'll be back. He will be.

"I'm fine, I promise. Tired for all the chores I've done today, but that's all." He won't believe her. Of course he won't, but she's going to say it anyway. "Why are you asking?" Why does he want to make her repeat the city's lies?

"Don't lie to me," he murmurs low, sympathy but moreso disappointment clear in not only his voice but how he holds himself. Does she not think he knows her well enough by now? Or is she so shaken that she can't believe it?

"Don't lie to yourself. You're far away this time, Love. Come back to me. I'm here, I'll hold you together. It's alright to feel it." She's rigid, tense, so he doesn't embrace her as he wants to. He'll give her that space, but he does hold her hands to his chest, precious and close to his heart. He sighs softly, resolving not to be hurt because he knows this isn't about him. This is about Alois and Amelia, about the city, and about the lack of control or stability. But all they can do is be here for each other.

"'How can you know where you're supposed to be if you don't take the journey?'"

Edited (Typos :c) 2023-06-05 01:12 (UTC)

It's not supposed to be this way. He's not supposed to come here knowing, knowing her so well that he... that he can just... do this. She's stronger than this. She can wait out whatever time it takes for the last bit of her Family to return to her. He shouldn't be worrying over her when it's another of her partners. It shouldn't effect him. She should be better than this. She can be.

Her lip trembles as she looks up at him, tears threatening her vision as she tries to keep denying this. "I..." am stronger than this. "I'll be..." fine, until he comes back. "Y-you... shouldn't have--"

No. None of that. It's not fair when Wolfe chose to be here. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't important to him.

She curls in on herself, forehead pressed to his collarbone as she tries so hard not to cry. If she starts, she doesn't know if she'll stop. How can she when he's just-- when they didn't even say he was-- and then suddenly there was nothing where he had been.

"I can't do this y-yet," she whispers, voice thick with tears she's still trying to hold back. "If I just... If I wait, he'll come home, b-back to me." Not to the House where he's actually needed, where the Family is waiting for a leader that isn't so hotheaded he can't let go of his own needs for the sake of the many when it counts. Not to where he should be, but here, where they can still be in love.

Her fingers try to grip at his shirt, seeking something real to hold onto. "I can't, because it's not true."

"I know," he wraps his arms around her securely, one hand going to the back of her head to cradle as he envelops her against him. She can't do this right now but right now is all she has. All any of them have.

He knows this feeling far too well. Grief is an old companion for those who lose those around them one by one by one. Who knows what's missing too heavily. "I believe you can, though I wish you didn't have to. I don't want this for you, but I'm here to listen and to help carry the weight of it."

Of truth and if grief.

He kisses the top of her head, rubbing her back in gentle circles. "I won't let it bury you."

He can't stop it. He can't promise something like this and make it be true, much the same as she can't make Aloïs come back to her. But maybe if he's here, maybe if he's not suffering from watching her, it won't so bad he can't pull her out when she does drown in it.

Maybe is all she has, and it may not be enough, but they don't get a choice, do they? Not here. Not ever.

She slips her arms around him as she tries to hold out a little longer, any attempt at words lost to the chattering of her teeth and the fabric of his shirt. She wants to tell him again that she'll be fine and mean it, but she can't. She... can't.

Her chest tightens as the sobs start; quiet at first as she continues to fight it, louder until she's all but screaming in anguish when she simply gives in. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to lose anyone, not like this. If they were going to go home, they were going to do it together. Not be ripped apart like this. Yet here she stands, crying and gripping at another of her loves as she mourns the loss of the first she didn't even know she had before coming here. It's not fair to Wolfe, and she wishes she was strong enough to send him away, but she's not. Dreams, she's not strong. Not anymore.

Her legs start to give out long before her tears have any chance of stopping, physical strength failing her as the hurt settles in further. Someone might as well have taken a knife to her chest several times over for how hard it becomes to breathe. This isn't the end of everything, but it's the end of who she was. The last thing that made her a leader, a member of the Family, is gone, taking love and strength with him.

This city takes so much more than it ever gives, and she's never felt is so sharply, so clearly as she does now.

Amelia cries.

She weeps and it's all Wolfe can do to hold her quietly and remain a solid mooring. She may not believe him but he knows she's strong enough to get through this. He knows the wail of a breaking heart, knows it as the sound his own heart has made only a handful of times but a handful is far too many.

He sinks to the floor with her when the strength in her legs leaves her, carefully lowering them both to the cool tile of the foyer. He arranges himself so Amelia can lean into him however long she needs to but he can stay upright for having the wall's support at his back.

"I've got you," he murmurs soft and low, more sound than words, for as long as it takes. "I've got you, Love."

It's not fair that she's doing this to him. Deep in her mind, she rails against the fact that he deserves better than this from her. Supporting her through the loss of someone else she loved isn't fair to him. But fairness doesn't count for anything right now, and it's not a thing anyone can ever count on. It's the only realization that quiets the part of her mind that screams to pull back.

She's hoarse when she quiets sometime later, no less than an hour after he stepped through the door. Her face and his shirt are a mess, her entire body chill and trembling for how much it hurts and how stressed and tense she still is. She wants to cry more, but her eyes hurt so much that all she can do is close them and breathe through the urge to push more tears out through the pain. It won't help anything right now.

"Love..." Dreams, it hurts so much to speak. She winces, a hand coming to her throat as she curls further into him. "Water. Up... upstairs." Something to drink. A shower. Anything to get her hydrated again. She swallows hard, gritting her teeth against the feeling.

"Please. Just... somewhere else." She wants to be anywhere but the floor right now. Anywhere where he can be close for a while longer.

Edited (fixing some wording) 2023-06-05 06:02 (UTC)

Andraste bless her for telling him what she needs, even in pain. If it were up to him he'd stay there for fear of upsetting the exhausted calm that settles, doze against the wall with her in his arms. Instead he nods and brings her with him as he stands, first to her feet and then with one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, bringing them upstairs as she asked.

He lays her down on her bed and fetches water quickly, filling the glass from the bathroom sink just to be back with it all the more quickly. He hands it over and then slips in beside her, tucking himself around her protectively so she can curl into him as she likes.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to." As long as she needs him to as well, though he hopes that distinction is unnecessary. "Whatever you need. If you need to talk or scream, yell at the city or simply rest, I'm here through it all. As long as you'll have me."

He's here to support her, regardless.

In any other moment, she'd fight him carrying her like this - she's a grown woman, she has two working legs, and she can crawl if she has to - but right now she knows she's too weak for this. Without his support, she wouldn't be here, literally couldn't be. She'd tumble to the floor and simply remain there until... she doesn't know how long. Hours, days maybe. Longer than she should.

She stays upright long enough to drink the water, then carelessly sets aside the glass to tuck herself beneath his chin and against his chest. Laying down is easier, and it keeps her from having to think about... much of anything. Now that she's unable to cry anymore, all she feels is numbness. Not only in her heart, but in her body as well. It's the strangest thing, to feel nothing where not hours ago there was pain, trepidation, fear, rage, and sensation. It's as if she isn't pressed into Wolfe now, his scent barely registering in her blocked nose and body not registering his heat, his solidness against her.

It takes her wants from her, too.

"Stay." It's all she can think of as fingers that barely work grip at his shirt and swollen red eyes find fresh tears. It should hurt, but it doesn't. It makes her wonder something else.

Slowly, she tilts her head to look up at him, then finds his lips with hers. It's... not what it should be, and the idea of pain is there, but it doesn't register in her body or mind the way it should. Is this it? Is this all there is left to her now? She exhales a breath, her chest tightening as she kisses him again.

"Be with me." She shouldn't, and he shouldn't either, but she needs something, and the only one person she trusts to give it to her now is right in front of her. She just needs something until it all comes back. Until she can feel again. Until this all makes sense again. Until she can find herself again.

Edited (forgot a word) 2023-06-05 23:17 (UTC)

"I am with you, my heart." He lets her kiss him, kisses back the first time but firmly holds her still after the second, tucks her head back under his chin as if to protect her. From the world. From herself.

Pain and loss drive people to desperate things, things they don't want in hindsight, and Maker take him if he's going to be a regret for her or take advantage. He is a protector, a supporter, and he would hardly be either if he went along. "I'll stay the night and I'll be here in the morning. You're not alone, my love."

He doesn't mention that he knows what she thinks she wants. He'll let it go unspoken, pretend that didn't happen, and be the rock she needs.

He kisses her, but retreats, holds back when she wants to be overwhelmed so she can feel again. She doesn't want to linger in this numbness, to let this be about her grief for someone else while he's here. She doesn't want to wallow or cry or scream about this anymore. She wants this moment to be theirs.

"Wolfe... please." Her fingers dig into his shirt, not trying to pull at it but to get him to look at her as she tries to shift to see his face. It's hard when every part of her body protests and the only pain she feels is so deep in her chest it might tear her in two. He hasn't rejected her, but dreams damn her, right now it feels like it. Everything is wrong and backwards and going in directions it shouldn't.

She presses trembling lips to his neck, fighting the tears making their way down her cheeks and failing. "I need you." And she doesn't want to wait for feeling to flood back in to have him when they could be gone for good.

Heart squeezing, Wolfe almost lets her. He knows where this comes from, knows because he'd felt the same when he'd woken back up in the city and found Alaric and Anders gone. A hole in him that's still there but no one else can fill. Nor should they. That space is for them whether they're there to fill it or not, and so it goes with Alois as well.

Keeping the unhappiness from his face but none of the concern, Wolfe carefully tilts her head to look at him, tenderly brushing at the tear tracks from her eyes. "You have me, but not like this. When you're not grieving your loss, dear heart. I'm here for you now so you can mourn. It's alright, I promise I'm not going anywhere."

He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, and holds her tightly. "It hurts, I know. It's alright."

You can't promise me that.

The words are on her trembling lips, but can't force them out. The pain rushes back in, crushing her under its weight as it settles in her chest again: Aloïs is gone, and when Wolfe goes in the morning, she's alone. This house, this life, this... everything, it's hers and hers alone.

It hurts to cry. Her throat aches and her eyes are dry from waves of tears, and still she cries. What else is there to do until sleep takes her? What else can she say when words fail her completely? There's nothing, and that same nothingness forces out another wail as she buries her face in his chest and tries to simply exist for a time. It's all she can do. It's all she will do until she finds the breath for a single word - "Shower." - to get them to do something. Anything. Just to not lay in her bed and think on how empty it will be when he goes in the morning.

Maybe it won't help, but at least it will remove them from a place her heart can't bear to rest in right now.

"Shower," he confirms, getting up to go put it on but leaving the door open so she can still see and hear him. He's not sure in the wisdom of his getting in with her, though he imagines that's what she wants right now. He doesn't want to believe she'd try and coerce him into bed again like that but the state she's in...

He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror for a moment, and still has his clothes on when he comes back out to get her. "Shower's running, my heart. Nice and hot, and I put one of those little jelly things in so it smells nice. Careful not to step on it."

She watches him go, curled up on her side on the bed. There's a detachment to it, as if she's not fully seeing him right now, but she can barely open her eyes as it is. It's as much that she can't see well through red, swollen eyes as it is how lost she feels. At least with him here, she's not staring into nothing.

When he returns to her, she sits up slowly, hands already working to remove all her things. Her pendants and vial of memories first. The calming stone bracelet at her wrist next. Her wooden dagger-shaped hair pin last before she numbly starts reaching for the ties of her bodice. It would be easier to ask for his help with all of it, but he doesn't want her as she is right now, so she... doesn't. She strips herself of what clothes she can while sitting on the bed, then rests a hand on his chest as she slips off the bed to remove the rest. She can... do this, at least.

Her braids come out slowly as they make their way into the bathroom, her waved tresses falling almost to her waist. Has she thought of cutting it since she arrived? Has she ever cared about it? Does she even care now? No... not in the least.

She takes his hand to steady herself as she steps into the shower, immediately sitting on the bench to let herself be soaked. The water is calming, and even though she can't smell the lavender jelly, the oils it releases into the air are nice. It's more than she needs right now, but she knows this is how Wolfe is. If there's something more he can do for someone he loves, he'll do it. She knows, because she's seen it, and she does the same.

For a few minutes, she's silent, eyes closed as she simply exists in the spray of water and with him at her side. It's still too much, but it will always be too much.

"Thank you." She leans her weight into him, head pressed against his shoulder and hair draping over them both. "I'm..." tired. lost. unsteady. "...sorry." For him having to be here. For being the way she is. For asking so much of him. He deserves so much more than to suffer her in this state.

He'd not exactly intended to get in with her, kept his clothes on for that reason, but with her looking so sodden even before touching the water he can't bring himself to leave her. His shirt sticks to him as he leans into her in return, kissing whatever part of her head he can reach against his shoulder. He's glad he can be here for her, finds no awkwardness in her upset over Alois being gone. He's a very large part of her life and a decent man besides, of course she would be upset he was spirited back home without her. He would be the same over her, or Chris, or Morrigan. Flames, he would be the same over Jon, too. Any of his close friends and lovers here. Any of the people who have shaped him in the last year plus.

"You're welcome, Love," he murmurs, getting thoroughly soaked but preferring that state to ever leaving her alone to suffer. If he has his way, she'll never suffer loss again, not like this. Not if he can achieve his goals. "You're always welcome."

Edited 2023-06-12 07:51 (UTC)

Would you still love me if I were a fish?

[ This. This is the kind of shit that keeps Hawke up at night. ]

[Is it a good or bad thing that she's wide awake right now as well?]

It would make kissing you much more difficult, but I don't see why I wouldn't. It's still you, just shaped like a fish?

[Why is she good at pondering these things? No one knows.]

[ It's almost like he knew she'd be awake. ]

It would make sex difficult too.
Do fish even have dicks?
and I'd be cold and clammy.
Well, clammy anyway. Cold wouldn't be new.

I can be warmer if you want me to, by the way. I can do magic.

[ He means he can do magic to make himself warmer, but he's pretty sure she gets the message. He hopes. ]

[This is going in a lot of unexpected directions, but she thinks she's following? Hopefully.]

I have no idea what fish do or don't have. You'll have to look that one up for yourself.

Clammy isn't so great, but the cold I never mind. Honestly, it's stranger for me when you're warm. Not bad, but different in a way that doesn't feel like you.

[ There's a long pause before Hawke answers again. The reason why becomes apparent quickly. ]

Apparently only sharks have sex. Regular fish just make a mess in the sea and hope for the best.

[ Curiosity sated. ]

Is it? Maybe I should be colder then.
Would that feel more me, if heat feels less?

[ Asking the important questions. ]

[The fact that he took the time to look it up makes her laugh. Of course he would do that.]

I guess you should become a shark if you turn into a fish, then.

[...oh no, why did she type that? ~~Because it's 2:49 AM, that's why.~~ Moving on.]

I don't think you should change anything. I can tell a lot about how you're feeling based on your temperature. If you're stressed, if you're excited, if you're particularly happy.

It feels you when you're not like everyone else. I wouldn't want you to change that at all.

[Except during sex, but that's a very different sort of conversation.]

I don't want to turn into a fish
Or
Well
I have this soap that would turn me into a fish-man?
Me but with a tail instead of legs
The aquarium had it and it seemed safe enough and interesting
I haven't tried it yet though
Now I'm curious if I'd have a dick or not

[ Ahem. ]

Has anyone ever told you you're unbelievably sweet?
Because you are.
I love you, all the things that make you up.
Like telling my mood through my temperature
Or how your hands are deft in battle but also with thread
And other things...

We could always try it in a bath you think will be big enough to hold you?

[She needs to stop typing without thinking at this hour.]

I love you too, but some of those things are merely details I observe. I'm certain Chris or Morrigan know similar, if you ask them. You surround yourself with people who excel at noticing the smallest things.

Adalwolfe Hawke, are you suggesting you enjoy the way my hands do dishes over how they handle your cock? I never believed I'd hear it.
Read it? You know what I mean.

[...she ruined her own joke there, didn't she?]

Amelia Royer, are you suggesting we spawn together?

[ It's a good thing she can't hear him chortle to himself. And then see him drop his phone on his face accidently. ]

But I enjoy the way your hands do many things, whether my cock is involved or not.
I am partial to the times it is, though, I can't lie about that.

[She's glad he can't see the way she turns bright red. She should not be texting at this hour. Ever.]

I

am not going to answer that.

[The first smart thing she's said this whole conversation.]

I do enjoy those times above most. There's never enough time for my hands to be on it, or you in general. [Which means it's time for another bad decision.]

How long will you be up? If I make it to you in ten minutes, will you still be awake? My hands are disastrously empty.

My dear heart, for you I would stay awake until the sun was tired of crossing the sky another circuit.

[ Yes. Emphatically yes. ]

[She hadn't actually expected him to say yes. This is... unexpected, but very good. Getting out of her too damn quiet house right now feels like the best thing she could do to keep her mind steady.]

Then wait at the door for me. There's no cabs at this hour, but I know the way. I'll be there soon. Breathless, but I'll be there.

Be ready to lose yourself to my hands for a time.

More that I'm ready to find myself in them.

[ Damn he's poetic in the wee hours of the morning, or at least he thinks he is. ]

Physically, though, he's more stumbling and when she gets to his door, he's a rumpled mess that's clearly just crawled from bed. He's in boxer briefs that hug his hips and leave very little to the imagination and a loose sleeveless shirt with arm holes that dip from his shoulders all the way to his waist to the point where its more hole than shirt, but it's airy for the summer heat that's starting to creep over the city. His hair sticks up at odd angles and his beard is a bit unkempt, but the smile he gives Amelia when he sees her is radiant and earnest even if he's trying to look nonchalant leaning against the doorframe of the Cat House with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Really all the pose does is show off his enormous biceps.

Biceps he uses to pull her into an immediate embrace in order to steal a kiss as soon as she draws near.

Edited (coding) 2023-07-01 05:09 (UTC)

She's not much less of a mess when she makes it to his doorstep. Her single braid's falling apart from her pitiful attempt at sleep. Her jeans and the tight shirt she wore during the day rumpled and thrown back on for her run here. She managed to put on flats for the trip, but they're slipping off as pushes herself to the balls of her feet and wraps her arms about his neck while they kiss.

Dreams, it feels so good to forget everything and simply come here when she can't sleep. Sleep would not have happened if he'd told her no.

Her fingers are in his hair when they part for a breath, though one hand slips down his body to touch his mostly exposed chest. "I need to touch you," she murmurs against his lips. "Where doesn't matter so long as I can have you now."

"I believe there was some talk about your talented hands going very specific places," he breathes against her mouth with a bit of a hungry growl behind it, his attire making no secret of what's exactly on his mind.

Stealing another kiss, Wolfe swings them both inside and shuts the door behind them with his foot. His hands are otherwise occupied, one at her waist and the other brazenly cupping her ass, squeezing gently at that perfect handful.

The little growl and fluid way he draws her inside makes her laugh softly into their kiss, the sound cut off by his grab of her behind. "Give me space to do so, love," she teases, the hand inside his shirt slipping lower to tug at the waistband of his boxers. "I have every intention of keeping my hands on your cock the second I won't cause us both to fall over."

She won't make completely him wait until they're somewhere more stable. As they kiss again, her fingers slip into his boxers to wrap briefly around his cock to give him a heady squeeze. It's only fair and right given what she's promised, and in return for that lovely grab he's given her.

He's about to give some witty retort about space and falling over or... something, but Amelia's hand squeezing around his cock makes him gasp and shudder, curling his fingers harder into her for just a moment before immediately returning his grip to something less stinging. He'd not meant to hurt but worries his sudden grip did exactly that. He laughs, ducking his head into the crook of her neck in vague embarrassment at being so unbelievably easy. Very vague, though. How could he not be when she's so... her? Vivacious and coy and ready to have her hands on him at any moment when he knows she's usually far more hands off in general.

It fills him with appreciation and he kisses her neck, worrying little bites like punctuation. "Are you sure you don't want to just take me here in the hallway, helpless under your expert grip?"

Too tight a hold or not, Amelia's far more distracted by the sound of his laughter and the lightly cool breath at her neck to pay it any mind. She's never been one who requires being handled in a delicate way, and now's no different. It may be different from Wolfe, but if she minded every time things were different between them, she'd never get to appreciating him.

Besides, it's late, and the both of them should be asleep. What's a little slip between them if not an admission they're forgoing sleep for each other?

He presents a very good argument for not moving an inch further, one she's very happy to see to as he kisses and bites at her neck. An eager moans escapes her lips as she tilts her head to the side, offering more of herself to him. Yes, this is as far as they're going to make it tonight.

"I think you're right," she breathes, squeezing his cock again. "My legs don't seem willing to move any distance, and I don't want to either." Not when she's got her hands on him and he's lavishing her with attention in return. This is exactly where they need to be.

She leans one shoulder into him to force him against the nearest wall, stumbling after him without letting her hands off of him. Stable enough now, she pumps her fist over his cock slowly, not moving to remove his briefs. This moment is the culmination of a mess of emotions, strange thoughts, and heat, and the best way to mark that is by making more of a mess together. Of him to start, but from the way she presses hungry lips to what parts of his scars she can see on his chest while she strokes him, she's eager to have them both be a mess before they find their way to sleep.

She shoves and he stumbles, laughing as his back hits the wall. This is his favorite, no plan and no undercurrent of complications or remorse. Just enjoying each other in whatever form that takes, teasing and pushing at each other playfully and in Amelia's case stroking until he's full hard in her hand.

He shifts, pressing into her hand even as she moves it along his length, so he can wind his hands in her hair and make her look at him. It's not harsh, nothing forced about it and she can pull away easily if desired, but he wants to see that wicked grin as she teases him to the brink. Wants to taste it on his tongue.

So he kisses her, fingers tangled in dark strands, and revels in the joy of them.

She loves these moments with him, unexpected and fun as they so often are. They're both tired and know better than to push themselves, yet here they are, shunting everything that isn't each other for a little while. It's exactly what she needed tonight.

Her eyes immediately find his when he grabs at her hair, a sharp, excited breath leaving her at how unexpected it is. There's no resistance to him, her own eagerness to bring him pleasure easily winning over any other thought in her head. Why pull back when this is where she wants to be, together and with her hands on him? He can loosen her braid until all her tresses fall down her back for all she cares.

It's between kisses that another wicked thought comes to her, one she doesn't want to hold back on. She slows the pace of her hand over him as she nips at his lower lip, grinning again as she breathes against his ear.

"Is it only my hands you want tonight, Wolfe? My lips would happily work with them, if you'll let them."

At this deliciously unexpected suggestion, Wolfe's eyes fall close for a moment as if in silent prayer to steady himself before meeting her gaze again. "You know you have blanket permission to do what you will with me, love. I trust you emphatically."

Maker's breath, he needs to text her stupid things when he can't sleep more often.

"I like to hear you tell me how much you like my ideas." It also helps to hear that he's not completely averse to whatever she's suggesting. Given his reaction, she knows right away that he's as eager for what she offers now as she is to give it.

She gives him a last kiss as she withdraws her hand from his clothes, a hungry thing she barely breaks before traveling down his neck to his chest. Her lips find whatever jewelry he has in his nipples through his shirt, teasing him all the more as she sinks lower. When her knees finally touch the floor, she doesn't hesitate to pull down his boxer briefs, return her hands to his cock, and then take him into her mouth. It's intoxicating to taste him like this when her body is tired and her mind is so awake with him, and she readily pours herself into teasing him with her fingers and sucking at him with her mouth and tongue.

Every night can't be like this, she knows, but she'll happily take this one, especially if she can keep earning those wonderful sounds from him. There's little better than having all of this whenever they're together.

"You are intensely clever," he begins, now that she's professed to enjoying his praise. "Thoroughly mischievous; ready to jump on any chance for- ah! f-for turning-" He pants as she teases at his jewelry, the simple bars cold and heavy to the tongue which in turn makes him stutter. "A situation to your advantage."

He swallows and licks his lips, leaning back to look up at the ceiling instead of watch her slow decent. He'll not be able to concentrate anyway in a moment here, he'd rather try and give her all these kind words while he can.

Even if he is bunching his shirt up against his abs so she has full and easy access.

"I'm a little bit helpless for you, you know. You walk into a room and you're all I can see. Even when you're not there, my thoughts turn to you. The spill of your hair when it falls from your pin, the way your eyes sparkle when you're keen to chase down an idea. The way y-you float your hands above the shape of things, hesitant to touch, but not me. Me you grab and hold because you know I'm yours."

She takes him into her mouth and he groans, swallowing again. "Hopelessly, helplessly yours."

That's not at all what she'd meant when she said that, but it's a delightful confidence boost to hear him speak of her like this. All her most artful and pragmatic parts, and he loves all of them. They're all part of the reason he thought to text her something silly at far too early in the morning and submits himself to her experienced hands and mouth now.

It's thrilling to hear that he thinks of her so often when she's not around, too. She would never fight or ask for his thoughts if she's not with him, but knowing she's distracting him anyway is exciting. It gives her an idea to purposefully distract him someday, whether in person or with some sort of message that will inevitably drive him wild. There are so many possibilities available to her when he has such tells for how he's feeling...

Something to consider later. Her focus is decidedly on him here right now.

She hums her approval of his words around his cock, drawing her tongue along the length of him before taking him in more fully. Her fingers give the base of his cock a squeeze before she adds to the sensation with a hard suck, and the way he responds makes her shiver with glee. The whole of him is open to her right now, and she intends to enjoy every second of that feeling.

He may be hers in a hopeless sort of way, but dreams know she's equally lost in him, and nothing's going to stop her from making them both breathless and dazed in these last few hours before dawn.

I need to talk to you sooner rather than later.

[An unexpected ask from an unexpected person.]

In person? You may choose where we meet. I have to be at work by 9 PM this evening, but I can stretch that to 10 if necessary.

Shouldn't take long.

[She drops two pins, one in the Up with an ETA of ten minutes, one in the Down with an ETA of thirty. Both are outside bars, neither are anything special.]

You choose.

[The one in the Up lends itself to an easier time of getting to work after, so Amelia gathers all her things and finishes making ready to go.]

The Up. I'll be there in no more than ten minutes.

[And so she is. A messenger bag slung over a shoulder. Jeans, a linen shirt, and her bodice, boots, and knives on. At least she's consistent in how she dresses no matter the weather.]

Rosita, at least, is similar in this regard too; the Up is easier and safer for her to get to, and she has her own shift later so she has a pack with her uniform tucked in it on her back where she's waiting outside the building, absolutely no intention to go inside. She dresses a bit lighter in the summer but still in practical, fitted pants, a tanktop and mostly unbuttoned overshirt, fingerless gloves and her hair pulled through the back of a military style cap, her utility knife worn openly on one hip and boots.

She pushes off the lean of her shoulder when she spots Amelia, unfolding her arms to show her hands empty when she moves to meet her. She doesn't smile.

"You remember me?" she asks, nodding down the street so they can walk and talk, but waiting for her to agree to it before really moving. "And what you insisted on telling me last time we talked?"

This is truly going to place Amelia had no way of anticipating. Their last meeting went well, but given Rosita's reaction to her offer, she didn't expect the woman to take her up on it.

"I do." She gestures for the other woman to lead as they walk, falling into step beside her with a reasonable distance between them. "What is it you need?"

And indeed: "I don't need anything," she answers, but she doesn't like to play coy with things that matter at the best of times. They've barely made it ten steps before she goes on, voice even and sober.

"If Chris is one of your people, Carver is one of mine. I heard some shit went down at realignment, and that's one thing, but what was that shit on the finder?"

Edited 2023-07-25 17:20 (UTC)

Fuck. This could be bad. Amelia frowns, but doesn't look away. She can meet this woman's eyes as she speaks the truth.

"I tried apologizing shortly after Realignment, but he didn't want to hear it. I hadn't intended to reach out to him again when he made it clear he wasn't going to hear me about it again, but the finder came for blood and I was tired of it. I didn't expect him to answer at all, let alone start me down a path of answers that I lack context to fully understand."

Her lips press into a thin line. "There's something more to how he responded to me, to what I did and said. I don't know it, and I won't be asking him again." If he offers it in answer to other questions, so be it. She understands she can't push on him without breaking what fragile peace there is between them.

But now she has to know. "Did something happen as a result of the conversation? If so, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to cause any trouble or harm." She just also happens to be the Queen of Bad Timing and Decisions.

"Yeah, there is something more, because people are more than just a bad moment," she answers, not kindly. Amelia does her the respect of looking at her as she speaks. Rosita's dark eyes bore back steady and hard, pulled away only to keep watch around them or to navigate something in front of them as they move.

"I'm not going to answer that," she says bluntly, and it's not just how protective she is over Carver specifically, over her people in general. "Do you understand that you may never get to understand? That if he or anyone who knows anything about him answers you, it's his choice at this point? Not yours. And if you try to force the issue anyway - you may not have had much of a choice in that room, but now you do. And you'd be choosing to keep playing around in damage you don't know the first thing about. And that?"

She doesn't stop their momentum, but they're at a corner, waiting on traffic so she takes the opportunity to face her fully: "That's not something that can happen."

She's calm under Rosita's anger, not shrinking away or backing down. This is more the reaction she expects when someone's upset with her, and it's easier for her to take than what Carver threw at her in the wake of Realignment. It's clear where the other woman is at, what her thoughts are, and what she sees Amelia's failings as. Not for the first time, she's glad someone in this dreamsforsaken city agrees with her that she's fucking things up.

"I won't press him or anyone else about it," she answers, calm under the hard gaze thrown at her. "I don't like not understanding, but as you said, I can't change that if he doesn't choose to give me more context. That's for me to bear alone."

As for the rest, the corner of her lips tug briefly into a smile. "I want to keep the peace more than anything else. My attempts were for myself until now, but keeping everyone from each other's throats is more important. Carver and I work together, and we both need it to remain neutral ground. That's more important than sating my own curiosity."

It won't be easy at times, but she's good at avoiding people when necessary. If that's how it has to be from now forward, she'll make it happen.

There's something about the smile that burrows under Rosita's skin like a splinter, that touches a part of her that shed all the social niceties and contracts that cities like this rely on to function a long time ago, a part of her she's comfortable wearing on her shoulders like armor when she needs to these days. It tells the side of her that speaks no language and recognizes no authority beyond what literally can or cannot be done that she is being mocked, to do something to prove she's not the kind of easy fucking target to be ignored.

That's not how this city works. A lot of the people around her are lucky that's not how this city works, and Rosita herself is lucky that she's not so far gone she can't recognize that.

"In our own world, one or the other of us would have just killed you by now," she answers, not a threat necessarily - she's not even saying they could, in a world like this one where people have magic and abilities that simply don't exist on the Earth they both come from - but an unflinching, unarguable fact. Hurt someone like Amelia hurt Carver, and it's payback in kind if she didn't finish the job in the first place. Simple, straightforward, cause and effect. "Here, he has to figure out how to keep being civil, keep talking to and working with you no matter what he'd rather do, no matter what it costs."

She says civil like it's profane, lip lifting.

"I like you, Amelia. But that won't change anything if I see or hear you pressing him about it again just because you can and he's there. He owes something to Grayson, but I don't." This, too, is not a threat. It's a line in the sand, an expectation she wants to be crystal clear on so everyone involved can move forward without crossing it.

It's a fact that Amelia understands very well; it would have gone the same were they in her city. There's no anger or upset from the rogue as she meets Rosita's animosity with an even expression, head tilted ever so slightly to one side. It's curious that her word isn't being taken for what it is, but she supposes that can't be helped. After all, what have her actions done but show she's not good at keeping to herself when she should? It's a fair thing to ask, given the mess Amelia knows she makes with every breath she exhales into this city.

"Then you won't see or hear of it, because it won't come to pass. I've given my word, and I intend to keep it. I don't know how to prove this to you or make you believe it if you've decided I need to be watched closely." She holds her ground as the crowd around them starts to move to cross the street. One way or another, she's fairly certain the conversation won't last long enough for it to matter if they're walking or standing still.

"You don't owe me anything, either. You'll do what you need to in order to protect yours, the same as I will when the time comes. And that's all this is, isn't it? A courtesy of telling me who belongs to you so I leave them be? If so, then message received. Carver won't be bothered again." Until the city forces them into another corner together, though she'll do what she can to avoid it for everyone's sake.

Her shoulders rise slightly in a shrug, her palms turned upward in front of her to show she's not hiding anything. "Have I missed anything?"

Amelia, Rosita recognizes, comes from a place where giving one's word actually still means something; where swearing some kind of oath means something, where there are clear sides and lines that cannot be crossed without consequence. If ever Rosita herself believed in that, though, the time is gone: promises need to be proven over time. The best Rosita can do is this conversation, where if she had reason to think Amelia would outright ignore her or otherwise cross her, there'd be no warning at all. She'd just handle it.

So she listens, and she studies the other woman, considering: is there anything further? She wants to argue that Carver doesn't belong to her, especially with the connotations here in the city, but if she does that then she'll have to admit to something in its place and she's not interested in that.

Is there anything further? Just the matter of reparations. The foot traffic starts moving, and most of the other people who had gathered to cross have gone on, the next group hasn't yet accumulated. Into this lull, Rosita - already squared up from their conversation so far - gives no warning and no explanation, but punches as hard as she can with a solid, swift right cross for wherever it will land on Amelia's face.

There is and will be no follow up. This isn't a fight, or not from where Rosita is standing. It's fair and square.

There's no getting out of the way of the hit when it comes. Not that she would have tried unless this was a real fight or a spar. Rosita's been calm but tense throughout their entire conversation. Carver is one of hers in a way the rogue understands in ways the defy words and explanation, and she came here to make that - and her displeasure about the entire conversation she saw on the finder - known.

It hurts, but Amelia's had far worse. People twice her size have tried to break her in half, for example. A punch across the face hurts, and will leave a bruise for a few days, but makeup can cover the later and the soreness will pass. What doesn't pass is the few gathering bystanders who gasp and start to shout about what's just happened. Dominants fighting in the streets? Striking one another without provocation? Someone call the SIN guards to break it up!

Calmly, Amelia raises a hand and pushes it down slowly through the air. She looks to those around them who are gawking and smiles warmly. Her voice is calm but authoritative when she speaks, as someone used to getting exactly as she wants always sounds in escalating situations. "An aired grievance, and the last one we'll exchange. Be on your way."

Most of the crowd drops it immediately, and the few who don't leave right away head off once they're stared down for long enough. When the last have retreated, Amelia rubs at her jaw then smirks at the other woman.

"A clean hit." One that sends a clear message and doesn't require a response. "Anything else to add before we go our separate ways?"

It's not that Rosita isn't aware of the attention from the people around her; she is. Her fingers stay closed in loose fists at her side, ready to deal with anyone who might think about stepping in the middle of this, but her attention stays on Amelia. She is, for all her anger and all her buried hurt, calm and steady where she is, and she lets the other woman handle it without so much as a glance or a word for anyone else.

She waits. And when she sees the smirk, she knows that her hunch was right - and, for the first time since realignment, she thinks there may even be a way out of this for everyone. Just maybe.

That's for later though. There's still the matter of the promise, the line Rosita drew in the sand and each of them staying on their side of it. Given that, though, Rosita, anyway, is prepared to move forward.

"No," she answers. And, "We're square," she summarizes, earnest. She'd like to do more, but that's for back home; for here, she can make it be enough to let go of her desire to make someone else hurt as much as someone she loves did, and start over.

It's as simple as that in Amelia's world. Words and blows have been exchanged between leaders. There's no need for anything to escalate further unless more actions are taken on either side. For now, there can be peace. This can also be the end of it entirely, if that's what Rosita wants. Amelia won't be bothered either way.

"All is settled," she agrees, nodding. She holds Rosita's eyes a moment longer, then begins to withdraw, turning back the way they came. "You know how to find me should that change, as I do you." She smirks ever so slightly as she gives the other woman once last look, then turns away.

"We'll see each other again sometime," she calls back over her shoulder. "I hope for us both it's under better circumstances."

And with that, the rogue disappears into the crowd to be on her own way and to leave Rosita to hers.

[Vash is pretty sure this isn't real, but it seems fun so he's joining in.]

YOU'VE BEEN BLASTED BY THE


 (          )           )    *          
 )\ )    ( /(     (  ( /(  (  `     (   
(()/((   )\())  ( )\ )\()) )\))(  ( )\  
 /(_))\ ((_)\   )((_|(_)\ ((_)()\ )((_) 
(_))((_)__((_) ((_)_  ((_)(_()((_|(_)_  
/ __| __\ \/ /  | _ )/ _ \|  \/  || _ ) 
\__ \ _| >  <   | _ \ (_) | |\/| || _ \ 
|___/___/_/\_\  |___/\___/|_|  |_||___/

ONCE YOU'VE BEEN BOMBED, YOU HAVE TO BOMB 8 OTHER PEOPLE! IF YOU GET BOMBED AGAIN YOULL KNOW YOUR REALLY SEXY!!1 IF YOU DIFFUSE THE SEX BOMB CHAIN, YOULL SUFFER A VERY UNSEXY BRAIN INJURY! BOMB WHOEVER YOU THINK IS SEXY!!

[What in all the hells is going on?]

While I appreciate what I believe to be your reasoning for this, I doubt the city will let anything like this happen.

You're right. This city it would probably be some sort of sexy injury.

[That is not what she meant at all, but perhaps he understands what's going on more than she does. Still, this is ridiculous.]

I hope you didn't actually send this to the number of people demanded in this. Everyone in the city will have seen it if you and whoever sent it to you took this to heart.

Sure I did! Why not? We can keep calling each other sexy that way!

[Oh Vash, no.]

Why not tell someone directly? It's rarely seen as an insult in this city.

I can, but this is much more fun!

How so? I would think seeing their reaction would be far better than something like this? Knowing the immediate reaction and getting proper reciprocation would b much more enjoyable to me.

Hey, I know you're a friend of K's...he likes you a lot. So I just wanted to let you know he's in a coma. I've heard it happens here sometimes. I had a doctor and a sorcerer check him out anyway, but... Yeah. He's out.

[Dreams, not another one. Not again.]

I know several people who have been through this. How long has he been under? Is he physically well?

He just looks like he's sleeping. There's nowhere in his world for him to go. No future. I hope that means he comes back to us unchanged.

I remember the state very well. My partner came back unchanged, unlike many who come back with new memories. He may be exactly the same when he wakes as he was when he went to sleep.

If you've had someone in to look at him, he's likely to be all right. Disoriented when he wakes, but fine otherwise.

[Duplicity] IC Inbox

voice; @blade

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voice/text; @blades - Backdated prior to 6/10

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Voice; un: Ravens (Backdated to 8/11)

text; @LadyRogue

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cw: mentions of death

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Text; Un: Ravens

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text; un: yennefer

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