Aurelius

Eva would have definitely heard Aurelius coming towards her if he wouldn’t have teleported. So when he suddenly appeared in front of her, she tried not to look too surprised. At this moment in time, she thought it was best to try and do things the easy way. Disappearing into thin air would definitely cause problems for when she arrived back home later. She’d decided it was worth a shot to try and sweet-talk him and see if that worked before taking the drastic route. So she covered up the dark and bitter mood she had found herself in and gave him her best smile.

“Auriiii…..”

She drew out the end of his name in an endearing way, taking a step closer so that it didn’t look any different from how she usually was with him. Auri was someone she loved–someone she looked up to and that would never change. Though like Arran in a way, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t get pissed off or aggressive if he stopped her doing what she wanted. The only difference was, anyone she didn’t care about, she would be violent and not forgive them. Whereas once she had calmed down, Eva would always be back to normal with her loved ones.

“It’s a lovely evening yes. I wasn’t expecting you to be out here. You gave me quite the startle….”

Large blue hues remained on him and she smiled again.

“I was with my father just before. I think he was heading away to look for you. I am sure I recall him mentioning your name.”

There was a slight agitation building below the surface, but she still maintained a pleasant mood.

The moment Aurelius slid back into reality, feet firmly planted on the path between his niece and the way out of safety, he began steeling himself for what had to be done. He could not let Eva leave the Estate, not now, not alone and sneaking off to do something likely to be more dangerous than an idle stroll, regardless of the fact that wandering around the town seemed to be getting people killed these days. He’d been loitering within earshot of the gates for a reason, and this meant that his foregoing a more comfortable reading spot had been worthwhile. Now he just had to convince a strong-willed young Mordecai who’d had him more or less wrapped around her finger for centuries to come with him back to the Estate proper. 

The smile wasn’t unexpected, nor was the casual sweetness to her tone. Aurelius’ lips twitched into a small smile in reply regardless, his stance just as casual as hers, though he remained firmly in the way of her escape. “Apologies. Yes, well, I thought I’d take advantage of the clear skies and read outside tonight. I imagine once the sky darkens a bit more the stars will be nice- you could sit with me if you’d like, enjoy how lovely it is.” The suggestion was an offering for de-escalation that Aurelius was practically certain Eva would not take. It was worth a try regardless, anyway.

“Really? Well, I’m sure I’ll run into him soon.” Aurelius played along, tapping his book absently against his thigh as he looked over at Eva carefully. 

“As well you shouldn’t, I’m an absolute delight.” he said with a small chuckle. Or at least, he could be a delight when he wished to be, though even when he dropped his little act Arran was still fairly easy to get along with, provided they were also a vampire and not an idiot. Aurelius was a marvellous vampire so he needn’t be worried in either respect. He raised an eyebrow, “That always was one of my best traits,” he said lightly, “One has to be endearing when they’ve no power. And even when you’ve power it doesn’t hurt.” And there was something nice about being liked by people, he didn’t crave it but it made life much easier.

He inclined his head slightly and made a small noise of contentment, pleased the other and himself had built such a close relationship. “Not selfish, we all want to be needed, don’t we?” he asked lightly, “And you and need each other; more importantly we’re happy to be needed.”

“Oh I’m sure fate would’ve found a way. While I may not hold the gods in such high esteem as mother does, I do think there’s some plan to the whims of our outcomes.” A small way of comforting himself perhaps? Though he didn’t dwell on it much.  

He was quiet for a moment, thinking on the other’s words before nodding slightly, “I suppose, though I’d rather just be presented as I am then by how an artist see’s me. But maybe I’m not understanding it fully. I’ve always been a better appreciator of music than I have been of art.” Oh he enjoyed looking at (and indeed being in) a fair number of artistic pieces, but music and singing truly held his heart. He laughed, “Only to you, I assure you I was much worse, though you weren’t too much to see me being so rebellious. Ronan had nothing on me.” It shamed him how he’d behaved, though Aurelius knew that better than anyone.

“That she is.” he sighed, “From the moment she was turned, and even a little before, I’ve been cleaning up her messes. Though since I helped her make them most of the time I suppose that’s rather fair. But, given the severity of what’s happening lately I don’t think it would be wise to leave her to her own devices for too long.” All this came from a place of love; Eva hated being told to remain in one spot more than anything and the more stringent security measures in the Estate weren’t likely to sit well with her. Arran shrugged slightly, “It’s all for the good of the coven; besides one would have very foolish to try and throw an accusation our way.”  

“Careful, if you keep saying it people might begin to doubt you.” Though that seemed nigh on impossible. Even when he wasn’t playing into the act, Arran was a likable vampire. And perhaps Aurelius was already tragically predisposed to falling for the charm of Mordecai’s, but Arran had a powerfully sweet smile. Either way, the soft spot he’d developed for his nephew was undeniable. “Hm, a fair point. Though I’d qualify endearing as at least a hint of power in its own right.” 

Aurelius nodded, the gesture unhurried, the pause between Arran’s thoughts and his response thoughtful. There was no hurry, after all. Outside the window the snow would continue to fall, inside these walls they would stand, unchanged by a changing world. “That’s true, yes. I imagine if I could spare you needing me I would, though. Arguments can be made for the importance of worries and concerns to growth and life, but as much as I will admit being needed and knowing you will be there are both nice, I do wish you didn’t have to worry.” The older vampire shrugged, and the gesture was just as unhurried as his nod, “Just an idle thought, though.” It was impossible, and probably not the best thing for anyone, to protect anyone completely from the stresses and anxieties of life.

“You think so? Interesting. I’m undecided on fate.” There were intricacies to the world to such an extent that Auri would never claim to know how things worked. “It’s a nice thought to think I’d have found myself here without meeting your parents when I did. An interesting one, anyway.”

The quiet between them as Arran thought was comfortable, Auri’s gaze slipping away to linger on the snowfall out the window. When his nephew spoke again, Aurelius’ attention returned, an inclination of his head marking his attention, “There’s no right or wrong to interpretation of art. Or at least I think so. That does make sense, yes. It simply depends on where you’re putting the value of the work.” 

His laugh was a quiet exhalation of air, a huff of a chuckle as Arran laughed across from him. “Ronan still has time to scare years off my life. So do you, for that matter, though less so now you’re older.” He shook his head, the laughter leaving a hint of a smile behind on his lips, “And they’ve got the benefit of you looking out for them, which I’m very thankful for.” 

Don’t get in my way|| Eva & Auri

Eva had been talking to her father for a while before leaving him and heading to her room. She’d tried the games room earlier and had grown bored after a short time in there. Unfortunately, there was still that burning desire to get the hell out of the estate before she went insane. There was always something about Eva which ignited the agitation that always resided in her stomach when she was made to stay somewhere. It was almost as though she got claustrophobic in a place that was actually very spacious. It was being told she had to stay there, knowing whoever was doing the murders, was strutting around like they were untouchable. Oh, they’d be untouchable alright if she could get a good chance with them, because she wanted to rip them limb from limb before making it impossible for anyone to fucking touch them again, apart from the blood that would be painted across the town.

Yes, she was angry–yes she had been upset, which resulted in her being angrier and when the youngest Mordecai reached that stage, there was no real chance of talking her down, not unless it got physical. Now very few knew they could touch her without more chaos being caused and her family and close loved ones were in that small circle.

–which was why she had avoided them and made sure she’d known their whereabouts for the last hour. The only one she couldn’t track right now was Aurelius but figured he wouldn’t be looking for her so it was fine.

It didn’t take long before Eva was out of the estate and near the gates to the boundary of it. The first thing on her list was compelling a human to do the dirty work for what she wanted and having them head into witch territory.

@aureliusshepherd

The coven would not accept more loss. Thalia and Brandyn had been attacked and overtaken, and they were both powerful primes. There were plenty in their number who were younger, weaker, less experienced, and if any of them were out alone- or even in pairs, because being together hadn’t saved Freyja’s parents- they were in danger. And so, the coven had adopted a vigilance in defense that they hadn’t needed since the Accords had been signed, all those years ago. 

And still Aurelius worried. Thalia had been Eva’s age. Brandyn, still gone without a word, most likely lost, was Arran’s. Ronan was a newling still, and for all the coven was strong and filled with capable vampires, they had glaring weaknesses that could only be mitigated somewhat. That was why, he supposed, he’d chosen to take a book out with him and settle in a spot cleared of snow at the foot of an oak tree in the wooded area that bordered the estate’s property, flashlight tucked under his chin so he could see to read in the otherwise near complete darkness of the woods. His fingers, mid-way through idly turning the page of the book open on his lap, froze. Footsteps on gravel. One person. Light.

Snapping the book shut with one hand, and turning off the flashlight and tucking it in a pocket with the other, Aurelius stood and teleported to the gates in one swift movement. He returned to reality standing in between his niece and intricately molded iron, book in hand. 

There was no fear in Auri’s eye as Hadrian circled. There was never any fear. It was one of the things he’d admired the most about his brother. To him, he was not an Elder, not an ancient vampire who terrified all in his presence, not a father, a leader, no. To Auri, Hadrian was his equal and that had meant more to the old man than anything else.

His smirk returned as he quit circling, facing off with the vampire before him. He listened intently to his explanation, one he’d heard many times before. Always the philosopher. Mid sentence, Hades lunged forward. A flash of movement so fast, even the vampire would have a hard enough time tracking it. Landing a blow to his ribs and throwing an arm up towards Auri’s face that was promptly blocked, he pulled back on bouncing toes.

“Well for me, it’s still 42.”  

Hadrian stopped pacing circles around Auri, but his stance was still purely predatory. The smirk on his face was as well worn as the space between them, and the floor would be if Hadrian kept up his dramatics. 

“When we first met? Not at all,” Arran laughed slightly; he’d been unable to read Aurelius for the first many years of their acquaintance; it wasn’t until Ronan that he felt the two of then truly became close to one another. “Now, you can’t hide anything from me.” He finished with a small smile, leaning back in his chair.

Arran had never been one to trust other’s with his worries, often it was the opposite and he preferred to be the one doing the listening; it was a habit he’d picked up out of necessity during his humans years. Being in the weakest place socially information had been what he’d supposed would see him rise in the ranks and as such he couldn’t afford to give any of his own away without good reason. Over the years he still kept his worries mainly to himself but now it was out of a desire not to let down his parents or to worry Eva. Aurelius was in that wonderful grey area in which Arran felt he could at last let down his guard a little.

“You will, I’m sure. Though I’d rather you didn’t have to.” If he had his way, Arran wouldn’t ever need to worry another with his problems; but the world wasn’t built for such a luxurious life. “As fates go I think you’ve struck it rather lucky.” His mother was a delight to be around… ninety percent of the time.  

“And in some cases a portrait always suffer’s from the inspiration and whim of the artist; it’s a rare thing to find a person capable of simply drawing what they see without adding a few touches of their own design.” With a photograph (especially such old ones) they were on display as they truly were in a time where no human’s could remember. “Such and adventurous youngling they were,” he chuckled softly, “Though a refreshing change to have someone who could finally admire music as much as myself.” He’d found a friend in them via music and still did to this day.

“Well, if I might call upon you in one more way, Uncle,” he smiled, though that too faded into seriousness as he continued, “I know you shall regardless but please keep a close watch on Eva, I worry that of the two fo us she’s more likely to give into her emotions should anything,” he paused and gestured slightly, “Happen. I don’t want her running off and getting into trouble when I’m not around.” And while he knew his sister was more than capable of defending herself he wouldn’t risk her in any capacity if he could avoid it. “They won’t type against us, I’ll make sure of it,” his smile returned, a mask so easily restored, “After all, the entire city sings my praises.” Wolves, Witches, Hunters and Vampires, he was a friend to them all; so long as it suited his family’s needs.

“And I can’t even bring myself to regret it.” And he didn’t, not really. He’d held himself at a distance from Arran ostensibly for his protection for a long time, at first because he thought it might work, and then, later, in denial that the circumstance of their connection was such that closeness was almost inevitable. But now, with a greater understanding of one another, Aurelius valued their friendship. It was selfish, maybe, but he needed Arran. He hadn’t really known that with true depth until Ronan, when Arran had been the only one who could understand, could tell him what to do best for the new young vampire. “I’ll blame that on your being endearing, I think.” 

Aurelius was still sitting, loosely relaxed, in his chair, but his expression was that of utter sincerity. “As do I. It’s selfish of me to wish you had a life with no conflict or worry, but I do. Being able to listen, and maybe help, is an honor, really. And knowing you’re a willing ear is nice.” 

His smile returned, small and quick, “I can’t think of how else I’d have ended up here, as I am, anyway.” Luck had given him one good turn almost a thousand years ago, and many more followed, direct results of that first encounter. 

“Hm, and therein lies their value. Portraits are an interesting type of artwork, halfway portraits of the artists themselves. But you’re right, a photograph has a different sort of power.” One that would perhaps be more impactful in this instance. Aurelius shook his head slightly, a fond gesture, “Terrifying seems more fitting.” He was more or less constant worried for Ronan, but they’d been even worse then, in the beginning, when it seemed like a stiff breeze might break them without their noticing. “Yes. You’re welcome.” Auri’s words were laced with dry humor, a faint smile at play on his lips.

If she’d conscripted anyone other than Auri into the archaeological dig that was sifting through the attic’s contents, she might have been annoyed with discovering her ‘assistant’ lounging on a trunk and not buried up to his eyeballs in donatable antiquities. But, since it was her dearest Aurelius, Amory couldn’t manage so much as a reprimanding eyebrow raise as she approached him.

Were Amory the type of person who was brutally honest with herself she would acknowledge that she hadn’t truly needed the help. At her age, with her blood purity, she could lift the heaviest of clutter without breaking a sweat. It was little more than a lousy ruse to spend more time with her most treasured friend, the man who hadn’t been born her brother, and was much more dear to her than the word could articulate. Fortunately enough, the last thing that Amory was, was honest. Least of all with herself.

Tome relinquished into her possession, Auri fell back into a more comfortable position. From the corner of her eye she could see a smile similar to hers surface onto the male’s lips, and the sight of it made the warmth in her rib cage burn that much brighter. If she wasn’t so caught up in the memory of their time in France those centuries ago, she might have marveled at the honor it was to be on the inside of those impossibly tall walls he’d built around himself. There were precious few with whom he deigned to smile so freely.

Gods, there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for him or his happiness.

“Werewolves,” Amory muttered with a headshake and an eyeroll. “They do have a talent for getting themselves into all kinds of trouble, do they not? Oh, while we’re on the topic… we haven’t heard much from the Corbeau’s since then, have we?” With a lifespan as impossible as theirs, it was an effortless thing to let decades and centuries pass without communication between covens. A decade could pass unnoticed. If it was a good few decades, a century could just as easily slip by. Which was likely why they were such an unhurried lot.

Distantly, thoughtfully, Amory commented, “With Arran in his eighth century and Eva well into six, I was considering reaching out to the other covens about their unmated Primes.” Incisors pinched down own her bottom lip and she thumped her fingers on the tome’s spine as she considered the wisdom in arranging such a thing for either of her spirited children.

Knowing the both of them, they wouldn’t take to the idea without conflict. Her children rather enjoyed their independence. More than love, apparently. Gods, what was she to do with them?

A resolute sigh served as prelude to the confession of, “I say that as though my standards for any future beaus of theirs aren’t downright unachievable.” The tome was set down and she shrugged, an absent shake of her head dismissing the idea of arranged matings or betrothals. “Let’s not fool ourselves, Auri. I wouldn’t know what to do with an empty nest anyway, would I?”

Talk of daguerreotypes chased away her worries about her children’s love lives. “A map,” Amory parroted with a sage nod, hands back to her hips as they both eyed the maze the attic had become over the centuries. “Bran’s a rather avid cartographer, is he not? Perhaps we can recruit his talents.” The edge of her mouth curled a bit with the thought. A legitimate map for their attic. How positively preposterous, and equally delightful. When she saw Bran next she’d demand it.

Amory’s attention was pulled back onto Auri when the male unfolded himself from the trunk with a folded mess of fabric in hand. Absently she corrected his guess, “Late 18th century, actually,” before shaking her head.

“Just this,” repeated Amory incredulously when Auri flapped the fabric loose to reveal a cloud of duest and a patchwork tapestry in an intricate design. She recognized it immediately, and fought the smirk that surfaced to her expression in favor of a aghast stare; as if she couldn’t believe the male would ever consider pawning off such an ‘heirloom’. “Do you not recognize the masterpiece you hold aloft and offer up so unceremoniously, oh beloved brother mine?”

With a wave at the thing between them, Amory reminded him –likely needlessly, “You recall that quaint early American tradition of quilt making, don’t you? Where the young women of the time were expected to have made a certain number of quilts for a number of occasions to prove herself fit to run a household… or whatever silly massageinistic idea was circulating at the time.” Amory rolled her eyes in a silent ‘humans, I’ll never understand them,’ before further explaining, “Lana and I were tickled by the absurdity of the logic and took up the practice in a most unbecoming fashion. A woman with a sense of humor was such a crude thing back then, wasn’t it? Anyway, this quilt was stitched for Lana’s accent into Elder. After all, how fit could she possibly be to run a house without a single quilt to her name?”

Amusement huffed out of her before Amory cocked her head to the side, staring mildly at the tapestry’s pattern in stitch-work. “I suppose that since it was made in jest we can stand to part with the thing.” Her nod was final. If the quilt had any true value it wouldn’t have gathered so much dust up here in the attic. There was no use in holding onto the thing.

“Indeed,” she agreed with a quiet smile, a laugh alight in her gaze as she regarded the tall male. “Generous of them to pass these down to us.” Amory took the quilt from Auri’s hold and began to refold it more delicately than it had been the first time. It was set down atop of the trunk he’d vacated as Auri mentioned having spotted promising looking boxes nearer to the front of the building. She nodded, remembering how some of the boxes had been labeled.

“Doilies, I think. Lots of doilies. Oh and the porcelain dolls we stuck up here because they were making Hades uncomfortable.” As a brilliant idea came to mind, Amory grabbed hold of Auri’s arm and gave it a squeeze, grinning the suggestion, “What do you say we take them down to our room and stack them on the bed for him to find?”

Amory’s musing on werewolves and their propensity for getting into trouble earned her a raised eyebrow from Aurelius, an unvoiced and we don’t? lingering between them for a moment before he let his attention be pulled along to other things by Amory’s train of thought. He was more than happy to let the eddies and flows of her mind carry him along behind her, had spent so long learning the intricacies of the older vampire’s mind that he felt arguably more comfortable drawn into her thought process than following his brain down all sorts of rabbit holes. 

“No, no, it’s been a while. A handful of decades at least, maybe we should check in at some point.” With the longevity of vampire covens, and the geographic distance between them, a few decades silence was to be expected. Auri didn’t think they’d officially spoken in at least a few years before the Corbeau’s had reached out to them for help with their territorial dispute, but they’d made a trip out of it anyway. They were on friendly, if rather nonchalant, terms. 

Looking off where the horizon would be if their world wasn’t just exposed beams, sloping ceilings and boxes, Amory’s voice was distantly thoughtful. Auri was perfectly content to watch her think, holding his tongue until she shook her head, putting the book down. His response, when it came, was dryly amused, quietly teasing, “Of course you would, you’d just have to go back to mothering me.” 

His humor, such as it was, was replaced with sincerity, and he sketched out a small shrug, “That’s assuming your two would leave, though, spouses or not. It seems to me your nest seems safely filled for the time being, Ori. Eva, maybe, I could see setting out into the world for a while, and if she were to go I imagine Arran would follow, but they’re devoted to you and Hadrian. They’d always come back.” The same could be said for him, really. Amory and Hadrian seemingly had a talent for inspiring utter loyalty. “As for looking for matches, if your standards don’t weed everyone out, there’s Hadrian’s and mine to follow, so I can’t say I’m entirely optimistic for anyone’s chances.” For everyone’s sanity they’d likely all be better off letting things be. Amory and Hadrian were almost astoundingly good together, a lucky match if Auri had ever seen one, but the same could not be counted on to happen again. Arran and Eva deserved the best of the world, but Auri was willing to bet if they were to find mates it would be on their own terms. The Mordecais had raised their children to be strong willed, after all. 

The curl of Amory’s lips was as good as a promise that soon poor Brandyn would be strong armed into spending more time than he ever had in the attic, papers in hand. Aurelius would have to apologize for putting the idea in Amory’s head. Though he had to admit that the idea of a map for the attic was pleasantly amusing. “I’m not sure he has any experience in the realm of plotting out terrains quite like this, so it would really be doing him a favor.” 

His back half-turned to Amory, she didn’t see the flash of his smile broadening as she corrected his haphazard dating of the quilted tapestry he was unfolding. When his attention slid back to his sister in all but blood, his brow furrowed slightly at her expression of abject shock that he’d so much as hold the fabric in front of her like this. That he was entirely certain the indignation was all for effect didn’t mean that he didn’t blink down at the quilt again once more as he cast back through his memory once again to try to remember if it was significant. It’d all been a joke, and Lana seemed to have found the whole process of making the thing, chipped away at while a handful of members of the coven would lounge about and talk, funny. He looked at her again, blinked once more. “Not really, no.” Playing along when it came to Amory was second nature. Also, though he would readily admit he probably couldn’t do any better, he wasn’t sure he’d call Lana’s quilt a masterpiece.

“We could ask Lana, anyway.” He shifted his hands, wiggling the quilt and sending out another puff of dust for no particular reason beyond the fact that he could. “And to think, only a few decades later I didn’t have to make any quilts at all. Even though the human women were still hard at work.” Humans were baffling and interesting, but often close-minded and fearful. They all knew that in any number of ways. They were different by virtue of being another species, but plenty of them had features to set them apart even further. 

Amory took the quilt from Auri, folding it with much more care than he would likely have put into the task, and he let out a quiet huff of a laugh, the coopting of an exhale. As much as humans feared the unknown to the point of occasional violence, they were generally ready and willing to accept the easy answer to suspicious things. Roseville had accepted the long lives of many of its residents through a delicate balance of fictitious family lines and careful distance. 

“He’s a busy little bee under our whims.“ he said with a little laugh, “Though I’m sure he’s satisfied with his lot.” he raised an eyebrow, reading the humour in Aurelius’ words, even if it wasn’t there to be heard. In lieu of a response he smiled slightly before speaking, “You love all of us.” It was the truth. It may have taken he and Arran a little while, but they got there, they were a family.

“There are few better than you to keep a secret with.” Arran had confided more of his worries and woes to Aurelius than even his parents and sister. He knew more than anyone how much pressure Arran put himself under to atone for old mistakes.

He laughed slightly, “They’re already proud of me but a little more could never hurt.” He needed that approval, desperately.  

He sighed good-naturedly, “When Mother gets an idea in her head there’s nothing one can do to change it.” Her ferocious maternal instinct was one of the strongest factors that kept him returning home even when he felt there was no place for him; Eva’s early years hadn’t just been difficult due to looking after a toddler. “Make sure you do, perhaps Freya might enjoy looking at them as well.” He was certain the young soon-to-be vampire was feeling nerves and excitement at once about her upcoming transformation. Seeing proof of immortality in another timezone might interest her. Arran preferred to focus on the future for happiness, his past was tainted in ways only he could see… But it was enough to cause his view of it to always be skewed.  

He smiled and nodded his head, “And I appreciate that but your concern is unnecessary. I paid a few visits to some Witches and the Alpha Werewolf, just to ensure them we should all be sticking together while reminding them of how little they can really trust one another.” he explained lightly with a small shrug, “Honestly? They’re all ready to tear at one another’s throats but too scared to make the first move, the second more proof comes out I think things will get messy.”

“Ah, I’m that transparent?” Aurelius was anything but an open book, but he had his exceptions. Amory and Hadrian could read him better than he could often understand himself, he imagined, and it would have been impossible to hide the depth of his devotion to the family Mordecai. It simply ran too deep. 

His nod was more an inclination of his head than anything, a silent acknowledgement that held its weight in his eyes. Arran came to him with his thoughts and concerns and it was not an honor that Auri dared take lightly. Theirs was a confidence that went both ways, after all. He’d surprised himself by going to Arran after he’d turned Ronan, but it made sense. The younger vampire’s insight was different to that of his parents, but no less valuable for it. Arran was an important part of Aurelius’ life in his own right. “I only hope I can continue to help.” 

Arran’s sigh pulled the faint curve of an amused smile on Auri’s lips. He knew all too well the supernatural force of a determined Amory. “Yes, I’ve resigned myself to my fate.” Though there were worse affairs to be pulled into by one’s collar on the command of the woman Auri had spent centuries thinking of as a sister. The attic was a positively tame divergence, really. 

“Perhaps. That’s a good point- portraits are all well and good, but early photographs are a more robust sort of artifact.” It could be difficult to wrap one’s head around just how long vampires stood to expect from their futures. And Freyja, who was still so young that Aurelius was half concerned she might break, didn’t even have the benefit of a handful of decades to start to grapple with the concept. “I’ll pass them off to you and you can do show and tell. Or you could rope Ronan in, they were hardly older than Freyja then.” 

The day had passed by in a blur. Willow had been going about her motions as if her body had been set to auto pilot, her mind having temporarily checked out. Every so often, the perfectly manicured fingers of a dainty hand would raise to her chest, right over her heart. Rubbing it mindlessly, as if she could soothe the dull ache that that settled over it’s core and remained, unyielding.

It had started this morning. A wave of grief washed over her so strong, her knees had buckled and she’d cried out from the pain. Much later, she’d discover it was due to the proximity her apartment had to the Vampire Elder who found the ruined form of his beloved friend, who stood in the wake of devastation as the other half of the woman found dead disappeared in a crack of grief.

The wave of turmoil that washed over her had been so strong, like a hundred souls crying out to be heard. All day, she had felt disconnected from anything but the reminder in her chest that something was not right. Willow had forced herself to keep busy, knowing full well what had happened. There had been another body found.

The only sliver of solace had been granted when she texted Arlynn, making sure it wasn’t one of their own. The reply took a while to come, most probably due to her High Priestess needing time to do some digging. It hadn’t been a witch, at least not this time. She still felt the loss of Malcolm, and knew the pain all over again as she felt the town weep each time a life was taken from them. They’d find out soon enough, who was gone. She only prayed that the answers they were so desperately seeking, would come before even more fell victim to this monster.

When twilight fell, Willow wasted no time getting gone. Shutting the store earlier than usual lest she be caught out in the streets at night. She was glad to be home, locked and warded safely inside the confines of her penthouse apartment. The thirty minute hot shower she took provided no comfort, her mind still a jumbled mess of thought and emotion as she dried off, tugged on a pair of soft cotton leggings and a soft blue, oversized woollen sweater. The fluffy socks on her feet matched the top half of her as she padded out into her vast living room, stepping past the lounges towards the kitchenette. Flicking the kettle on, she hoped some chamomile might help calm her fraying nerves when suddenly, a large figure appeared in the middle of the room she’d just occupied.

Aurelius.

One of the few who had the ability to pass through her wards. The younger witch opened her mouth to greet him when she realized that whatever had happened… whoever had been taken so brutally that morning, was a Vampire. Someone close to him. It didn’t require an empath’s ability to deduce, one look at that handsome face told her all she needed to know.

His apology broke through her concern, replacing it with mild confusion. Searching for something to say, she crossed the distance between them just as he continued speaking… backing away from her, towards the door. “Auri? Auri, wait a minute…” A small hand raised to his muscled bicep, as if the gentle touch would anchor him long enough to stop him from running.

“I’m not a victim,” her voice was soft and low, a gentle murmur. She didn’t want to frighten him away… “I’m safe, I’m right here. Nothing’s going to hurt me, you won’t let them. I know you won’t.”  She continued in a melodic fashion, talking only to soothe him, guiding him away from the door and back towards the couches. “You are always welcome here, what’s happened? Talk to me.”

It was only when he was stepping backwards, moving towards the door he hadn’t entered through, that his attention flashed quickly across his surroundings, taking in what he’d registered belatedly, after a few more tapering steps, was Willow’s home. The quiet, bubbling hum of a kettle, a couch and the sprawling space of the living room, Willow, in a large sweater and with widened eyes. The calm of a space he’d slipped into uninvited. His presence was a disruption, a disturbance. He didn’t dwell on why some part of him had pulled him to his old friend now, he just shook his head again, a small, soft gesture. 

The coven had always been a challenge for Aurelius. There was power in numbers, protection and contacts and a greater peace to be found in organization. He knew all of this, had seen it in communities, and armies, and other covens. And when he found himself- reluctantly, though if he were honest he’d been desperate for a connection then, had clung to them for all his wariness- inextricably tied to the Mordecais, he’d promised himself to protect them with his life, so if they were to fall under whatever dark cloud seemed to follow him, he’d do anything he could. And the Mordecais had led to Grayshadow coven, and the circle of people whom Auri had to brand as important grew larger than it had been in centuries. Perhaps calling it a challenge, especially when he’d become an elder, was an understatement. Aurelius felt the responsibility he had to his family and to his coven deep in his bones, and the ache was an old one, one that could be retraced back a thousand years. 

And it was the coven, in a roundabout way, that had brought about this. He’d gotten complacent, grown used to a modicum of peace with the coven strong, seemingly unbreakable. It had been easy, too easy, to find himself slowly forging friendships beyond the walls of the estate, finding himself in the company of a select few others who broke up his long stretches of time sequestered off alone with a pile of books. 

This, of course, was where that had always been leading him. To the living room of a witch who was touching him on the arm and staring at him with concern in her eyes. One of many, too many, good people who he could spell the end of.

Aurelius let himself be guided along, putting up no resistance to being steered back to the couches. His expression slipped into practiced neutrality on an exhale, heavier than usual, halfway to a sigh. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your evening,” though he was sure the mutual nature of the surprise at his arrival had been obvious. “I’d imagine you probably know. Or at least suspect. I can’t claim I was particularly surprised either, really.” He was dancing around the subject and knew it, and once he found the words they came out blunt, unembellished. There was no pretty bow to wrap around truths like this one, “It was Thalia. And Brandyn ran, probably gone too, now.” The sun was unforgiving, and judging from what Hadrian had said he wouldn’t have had much time to find proper shelter even if he’d been able to think clearly enough to do so. “They were Arran and Eva’s ages, they should have had centuries ahead of them.” 

The great irony for Arlynn was that as much as she wondered after the future, and as much as she had the ability to see the future in some instances, she never had control over it. It was almost worse, in a way, she thought at times, to see fate unfolding before her without a say as to how to change it. She wondered if she’d seen Malcolm’s death–– if she’d have been able to prevent it then.

She suspected not. Fate was fickle that way. It would let you see from the window but wouldn’t open the door when you knocked. It never did for her, no matter how many times she tried. No matter how many times she begged.

“Maybe I should,” she mused with a small smile before taking a small tin with her favorite green tea and grabbing the kettle to boil some water. She put the water on and leaned against the counter, nodding in his direction, “thank you for checking on me, Shep….it’s…I appreciate it.” Another small smile and dipped head, glad that for his presence, more than she’d initially thought.

Without Dean by her side (and he couldn’t always be as he also had duties to attend to), there was a loneliness that settled in the witch. It was the sort of loneliness that went hand-in-hand with the burden to lead, one she shouldered with pride and determination, but a burden nonetheless, especially in times like these. Having another shoulder to lean on, to even lend her support to, well….it helped. Aurelius knew what it was to lead and to have to keep face and so it made it easier for Arlynn when she didn’t feel she was able to do just that.

While she might not have said all of that, she knew he’d understand why she said what she did. His presence chipped away at the loneliness and isolation she might’ve otherwise felt, when she was unable to show what she was truly feeling to those she was supposed to be leading. She knew she didn’t have to do that with Aurelius and it made the burden even slightly easier to bear. That meant a lot to Arlynn.

Arlynn’s discerning eye when it came to books and the literarily adjacent was what had originally prompted Auri to move beyond the wary camaraderie of two leaders of their respective peoples connected by an understanding and alliance to something more. There were plenty among the coven that appreciated a good book, but Aurelius had centuries of evidence to support the importance of an occasional new opinion. And Arlynn’s opinions were ones worth listening to. The witch’s curated tea selection displayed a similar sort of taste. He nodded at her musing, settling idly next to the counter far enough along in the small space to give Arlynn room to move as she boiled the kettle. 

“You’re welcome.” The words came easily, despite the fact that visiting Arlynn now wasn’t something Aurelius felt he particularly deserved to be thanked for. He understood, at least as much as someone could hope to, the burden on the witch’s shoulders, the bone deep conflict of grief and duty. It only made sense that he tried to lend whatever aid he could to her. It would be hard to have lived the life he had and seen what had happened to Malcolm, and to Arlynn and her brother as a consequence, and turn a blind eye to it all. Especially considering he’d let himself slip into the friendship he shared with the witch. He couldn’t help her, outright, but he could be there. 

There were selfish motivations, too, there were always selfish motivations. Both the vampires and the witches benefited from each other’s continued aid and support, and maintaining good relations where possible in such a tumultuous time was second nature, really. But those reasons were peripheral in comparison to whatever had compelled him to come drink tea with Arlynn and simply be present. 

“I am.” he nodded, “He saw me coming and just seemed to know I was bringing more work.” A short chuckle followed, “Though I’m convinced he plays at being put-upon just for the fun of it.” It was no secret the architect loved his work, and he’d only been able to build one greenhouse before. “I think they will, I’m trying to keep the true purpose behind it a secret though, so don’t go spoiling anything now, hmm?” he asked, putting a finger lightly to his own lips for a moment before dropping it, “Plus all the planning required is a good excuse to leave the estate and be around the city. Excellent for avoiding the construction work, amongst other things.” That he’d soon get into the more they spoke.

“Oh I don’t know,” he smirked, “It gave them something to do, kept them out of trouble and they got to hear the music as well.” he shrugged, “Personally I think they should’ve been a little bit more grateful for the privilege.” his dry tone hinted at the sarcasm of his words.

Even amongst their kind there were some who simply couldn’t appreciate the joy to be found in silence; in nostalgia and the tide of good memories. Those vampire’s he tended to avoid. Older beings than himself understood this best, his parents, Aurelius, they had even more memories than him and, he supposed, they fell into their pasts and could reminisce for hours. “Do, won’t you? Now that we’ve talked about them I find myself wanting to see them a little more. I wonder if my old suits are up there too.” The amount of things they’d acquired over the years meant their attic was an antique collectors dream.

He flexed his fingers a little, a small smile on his face before answering, “Now, now, Uncle you know I always satisfy an audience.” he teased slightly, “I’m simply floating a few connections with our fellow factions I think could prove profitable, reminding them of what a kind soul I am while ensuring they’re aware of their fellow’s creatures’ violent tendencies.” he chuckled softly.  

“Poor, poor Caius.” Not that he imagined the other vampire was particularly burdened by Arran’s suggestion. “Another poor soul condemned to an eternity at the whims of the Mordecais. I empathize.” His tone didn’t waver from his usual steady seriousness, but a smile threatened at the corner of his lips. He didn’t need to tell his nephew there was no place he’d rather be, no place he could imagine being otherwise. Arran knew.

”I imagine it is. You can’t have nothing to fill the shell, after all. Your secret is safe with me though, of course.” He’d probably pay Caius a visit when it came time to turn his plans into reality. Architecture was a fascinating art, after all.

Aurelius’ smile, before little more than the hint of a curve, broadened at Arran’s response. “How benevolent of you. Your parents would be shocked.”

Aurelius could conjure up an image of them despite not seeing the daguerreotypes for years. It’d been such a novelty then, the production of an image in minutes rather than the hours of sitting required for portraiture. He shrugged, a subtle movement of his shoulders, almost lazy, “I’d imagine they are. I haven’t properly poked around in a while, but while we at Floriade, Amory implied I should expect to be roped into some rummaging. If I run into them I’ll let you know.” Aurelius found himself in the attic much more regularly than most of the other residents of the estate, or so he assumed, but his intentions were generally less inclined towards looking at the space’s contents than banking on the fact that no one was likely to stumble across him there. It could usually be depended upon for a bit of quiet.