Cedar

“Oh, we were sitting in row E! He’s…hm.”

Olive turned to point out the teal-haired goth that was her sibling, only for her finger to fall once she realized that wherever Blixa was, it sure wasn’t where she left him. A look of puzzlement came over her face. Did he realize she got up and went looking for her? Maybe but in these sort of situations, he usually called instead of wasting time roaming around.

“Um. Well. I guess Blixa probably got up for a sec but he’s goth? Blue haired? He’s the one with the yellow glasses.”

But no, Blixa could, in fact, zoom off at the speed of light in the right circumstances, and as it should happen, the right circumstances involved a burly Sicilian and finding a private enough spot for ten to fifteen minutes.

Cedar scanned Row E, and D and F just in case she’d gotten it wrong herself, but there was no blue haired anyone, goth or glasses or otherwise. Her brother had just ditched her? Or maybe he’d gone to look for her and had turned the wrong corner.

Elsewhere in the place, another brown-haired woman sat down next to the Mnemoset. Blixa would have probably realized it wasn’t Olive in other situations -he might be legally blind but he still had some time to go before losing the rest of his vision- but there were three major roadblocks in place: one, the light was throwing him off; two, he pre-gamed on rum and absolutely continued drinking; and last and most importantly, all of his attention was focused on the handsome Sicilian fighter in the ring (he wasn’t sure if they were serious but he did know that he had absolutely no intention on introducing him to his sister because the last thing anyone needed was word finding its way back to their father and Oberyn calling him sobbing in the middle of the night because he was seeing a fighter and while he genuinely loved his father and had empathy for the trauma vaporvolphs went through on Vampiru, Blixa Bagni just wanted to get laid in peace) whose touring schedule rarely matched up with his touring schedule.

The match ended. Blixa mumbled an excuse of needing to visit the restroom and he might be gone long but they’d leave after. The woman next to him understood absolutely nothing of this  because she didn’t speak German. There was no way Olive would panic later because she couldn’t find Blixa or vice versa later.

Meanwhile, back to Olive.

“Yeah, I suppose not.”

Was she fiddling with her hair too much? She felt like she was fiddling with her hair too much. The thing is, she also didn’t know what to do with her hands when she wasn’t adjusting her hair or playing with a ring or otherwise messing around with an article of clothing. Olive didn’t know why she was so nervous -well, other than the fact that she was feeling the emotions of a hundred people at once in a place that she didn’t really want to be at- but nevertheless, here she was.

“Oh, oh no, thank you, I took a Fuber here. Thank you though!” she said. “Um. I have to make sure my brother gets back okay, I guess? He’s not really as familiar with the city as he thinks he is…”

Olive had concluded that Blixa (grown, adult, 30 year old man) did not really need his little sister chaperoning him but the fear that every single one of her family would fuck up and run into trouble if she didn’t look out for them won out almost every time. This was not really an unfounded fear considering Aphelion’s various arrests for completely stupid reasons and Blixa’s not-so-legal rebel misadventures and the twins’ natural swan aggression and the fact that her father was a man capable and willing to cause a scene in an ice cream shop.

Cedar let the young woman fret a bit, patiently hearing her out. All in all, this was not the worst encounter with a distressed and overwhelmed spectator she’d had. It was unfortunately common to find someone made ill or panicky by the violence on display to the point of making a true mess. 

Maybe she should just leave. What was she trying to prove? Blixa hadn’t invited her to come in the first place, hadn’t wanted her to be here, could manage well enough on his own…most of the time, anyway. Besides, her father always told her places like this were wretched and to stay far away from them, which is probably why her brothers liked catching fights so much.

(Most of the time left too much room for doubt. She just wanted everything to go smoothly and to have a nice visit where nothing bad happened at al for once in her life.)

Olive remained oblivious to any reptilian-looking men who might have checked her out but she startled out of her doubt at Cedar’s approach. Oh. Oh wow. Tall. Were those fangs? She looked so cool. Olive’s gaze might have lingered a second or two too long before she realized she was staring blankly like some kind of weirdo and she should probably say something.

“Great! I’m great. Thank you for asking, that’s really sweet,” she said a little too brightly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind one pointed ear out of nervous habit. “Um. Just taking a little walk. You know. For the sake of my legs.”

Olive was a real bad liar.

“Yeah...uh, not a lot of great places to walk ‘round here, sadly.” Cedar could tell Olive was uncomfortable, and was trying to be very careful about not being the source of it. While a cute young woman looking like a fish out of water wasn’t always who they appeared to be, Cedar would bet she was a vampire (and not some other pointy-eared, humanoid species), and also actually, truly out of her depth.

If she turned out the fool for it, so be it. This was still her job.

“No, it doesn’t get exceptions.” Tom’s throat tightened (knew that better than anyone), but he didn’t look away. His mind had gone to the same place. She’d already been sticking her neck out for him. Maybe too far, now… “They know you enough t’know you wouldn’t, though, I’d fuckin’ hope.

“But I don’t think you gotta worry much about that part, least. The bar. Y’know how many warnings I got over the years? Even Pep—she got one, for some shit or other. A warning’s… It’s an excuse to keep an eye on you, if they think you got a lead they want. They ain’t gonna waste their time ‘less you start really rackin’ ‘em up and catching their attention, though. So, as far as fuck ups go? Minor.”

It’s an excuse to keep an eye on you, if they think you got a lead they want.

Yeah, she had a fuckton, not that she was gonna speak them into the night air where anyone could overhear. The fight club, Lilius, the rebels in general, hell, even Skipper--all of it was connected to her. Which lead did they think they had on her, some meathead Brux?

Tom had never been especially good at keeping his expressions flat, and so, he had already been scowling as Cedar talked. What’d someone even have if not their family at their back? Bullshit, she did it. Shouldn’t matter how much more seriously Brux took it than others. This wasn’t some quiet cousin, visiting the first time, or some brother who’d been off missing doing who the hell knew what. They knew her.

“Warnin’s mean a lotta things. But you’re not—” (Like me?) “—stupid or some shit. Don’t catch their eye much and you’ll be a’ight.” He slowly tapped a finger on the table. “Family’s worried about the bar?”

“No, I...I don’t think so.” Cedar wasn’t sure, though, and it was clear in her tone. “I don’t fuckin’ know. Ya know we fuck up Brux who step out an’ actually make fledglings. It’s messed up. An’...an’ it shouldn’t have exceptions, right?”

If they knew who Tom was and what he did, well, that’d be damning in itself that she convinced her family to let him work there. She wouldn’t bring that up, though. Felt too much like telling him to get out and get lost, or to be grateful. Would be a fucked up thing to say, considering he’d already paid for his little stunt once.

And she was gonna be more used to him, he might threaten, except for the way she cut herself off. Tom slouched forward and frowned.

“People treatin’ you weird? Or y'mean… you beatin’ yourself up?”

“Yeah. You know Brux--or, ‘least, my fam--we’re real fucked up ‘bout fledglings and feedin’. Everyone wants ta interrogate me.” Cedar felt the ghost of bile in her mouth from when her own mother had asked if she’d done it. If she’d fed on a human. She knew why, but it still felt like something was broken between them ever since.

Tom would argue that, from experience, a couple of questions could definitely be an interrogation, when said in certain tones. Fortunately, Cedar kept on, and Tom kept his mouth shut. No making problems worse today.

“You’re good. S’it the—” He lifted his chin and looked pointedly at her forehead. “—concussion, or somethin’ else?” His grin turned momentarily wide and charming—the trademark Tom smile, like that hadn’t gotten him into trouble enough, too. “Me bein’ an annoyin’ Caligo, maybe?”

Cedar’s pitch eyes narrowed at him, but in the end she let out a huff through her nose and a wave of the hand. “Whatever. I’m used to ya. Things’ve just been...”

Uncomfortable. Alienating.

“Ain’t no on said I couldn’t be down here.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “Specially not when it’s empty.”

She wasn’t gonna eat? The fuck. A lot of how she’d been acting since her return, he’d been able to attribute to the concussion. If not that, then being in hiding and not talking to much of anyone for a while. But not that. Cedar wasn’t irresponsible like that. 

Tom gave her the quickest of assessing glances, then slung both arms forward over the back of the chair. Cozy, relaxed, like he might fall asleep hanging half way off the chair—and not about to budge.

“What’s with the interrogation?”

Until Cedar kicked out the chair, Tom stayed where he was. He still wasn’t clear on what’d happened, exactly—figured it wasn’t his damn business, until she volunteered it. It didn’t make him less concerned, though. If anything, more. Regs didn’t just… drop shit like that.

“Yeah, really sufferin’ seeing your pretty face more often ‘gain.” He winked and stepped forward, lazily spinning the chair around to sit backwards the same moment he slid into it. “Probably.”

Shocker—that just like the standard Caligo power set, control came easier with emotions less thoroughly bottled. Spooky shit worked the same way, and when Tom blinked over a pair of juiceboxes, he did so with just enough flair that the one he slid across the table still had a spark or two lingering when it hit Cedar’s side of it.

“Betting you haven’t thought t’eat since sittin’ down.”

Cedar felt her proverbial hackles go up at everything Tom did, but it wasn’t about him. She’d taken her break because she felt every little interaction pricking at her skin until she was ready to lash out. Her cousins hadn’t helped.

So, uncharacteristically, Cedar took a breath, let it out, and snagged the juicebox (maybe a little too aggressively). “I wasn’t gonna, but might as well, now.”

She had to get back to eating regular meals. This whole thing had fucked with her head.

[Note: though this takes place at Cedar’s new job at an industrial butcher shop, there is only passing mention of it. There is nothing explicit about harm to animals.]

Cedar smacked her back against the concrete wall outside of the industrial butcher shop, refusing to fully fold to the ground but deciding today was not the day for wall sits. Who needed an exercise routine on their break when processing several deer an hour was a full body workout?

The door next to her swung open as her cousin Chauncey strode out, cigarette already in his mouth. He held the pack out for her and, for just a moment, she reached for it. With a scowl, she twitched back.

“Aunt Fran know you’re smokin’ again?” She asked instead, mood sour.

“Yeah. She just pretends she doesn’t.” Chauncey shrugged and leaned against the wall with her. He was whip-thin and wiry, deceptively strong but always a little awkward in his glamour like he felt the loss of his tail and wings more than most. The Strigha, innately aware of how the wind was blowing, lit up and let the smoke trail away from the two vampires.

“She’s busy with those Brakmis meetings, anyway.” Cedar’s cousin continued the conversation idly, with an edge to his voice like he was waiting to launch into some kind of complaint. Cedar had fewer issues with her aunt’s community than her cousin did, but she figured it was only polite to indulge him.