with your shield or on it.

“If you’re an old dog, then I’m a wily old cat,” Penelope said with a smile— “Just slightly more adaptable, but always seeking out a sunny spot to spend the afternoon.” She let out a breath, looking at Cal with immeasurable fondness. He wished peace for her, and she wanted the same for him. Perhaps he would never put down his sword, but she wanted him to stop feeling that he had to reach for it, to know what it was like to sleep deeply and without worry— without threat of having someone take whatever warm moment he had away. Cal’s immediate distrust made her settle back down in her seat, reaching for her wine glass to swirl in her hand. The contents were ruby, and they sloshed along the sides before she took another sip, considering his question. “What I believe is that he thinks them to be true,” Penelope said, though her brows knit. She looked over at the fellow Spartan, a faithful friend, and she felt a flash of shame for her weakness. “And I want them to be true. I want for it so badly.” She set the glass down in fear that the stem of it would shatter in her hands. “I’m tired of losing love to time, to mortality. Cal, I can’t bear it.” Athena had chosen her for her wisdom, but the goddess had failed to see that she was a wretched creature too— her heart was foolish, so easily given, as though it had never quite felt comfortable in her own chest. “He promises forever, how can I turn away what I’ve always wished for?“

+

Perhaps it is unfair of him, to bring down Penelope’s happiness. But his concern for the woman comes from a place of love, to not see her so hurt once again, the pieces she had been broken into by the incubus before. She has always deserved more than that, even if Penelope is willing to settle for otherwise due to the sake of her loneliness. “He has made you many promises before, and broke each of them.” Cal reminds her, though his words come out gently. In the end though, it is not his decision to make for her, and Cal understands that. “I only wish to see you protect that heart of yours. It has been broken too many times.” Penelope, he thinks, is perhaps drawn to the tragedy, much as she would wish otherwise. There are many other choices that exist out in the world, and yet he has watched his friend fall into the same pit over and over again, whether it be her mortal lovers or ones like Mahendra. “If you think he is true, then it is your call to make. I only heed caution against trusting him so quickly. He is a pretty liar, but a liar all the same. Make sure this time is different than the last.”

“I don’t know,” Emma said with a sigh, despite not needing to breathe it felt necessary in this instance. “I don’t want to, and I don’t need to. He told me that my mother chose to die, that he offered to turn her and she refused.” In the end both parents had opted to leave her, Emma hadn’t expected the news to sting as much as it did. She didn’t think that anything Leighton could say would get under her skin, but this itched like a fresh wound that couldn’t heal so long as she kept reaching for it. “Your parents,” Emma asked instead, Cal was made of stories, perhaps he could share one. “what were they like?”

+

“This is not a life that is suited for all.” Better that her mother understood that before the transition, than being stuck in an eternity afterwards. But that might be a hard thing for Emma to accept, to look at it objectively rather than abandonment by another parent. While Cal would never willingly choose to look back, there are those who do not agree, and he cannot fault them for it. “I do not remember them,” he answers honestly. They had been wealthy, powerful, that much remains. But their names have long gone to time, no faces left to his memory, no tender moments of childhood like those of this age might cling to. “When I came of age, they gave me to Sparta, where I began my training to become a soldier. It is with those men I found my true family.”

“Hey now, I”m not saying I’m setting him a plate at dinner, but he’s alright.” Even though he almost thought that he and Hyacinth probably shared some of the same views regarding Cal. Which meant he was just fine in his book, but Eli wasn’t about to say such a thing out loud, not in public, where they could argue even more. And yet, Cal had presented the argument right there in front of him, just dangled it there and as per usual-

“We talked about it.” He takes the bait, he can make this not an argument, he can surely just communicate his issues. “About this cure.” The mere idea that the Patroclus was around was still a little shocking, but he swallowed the swell of admiration along with his sip of wine. Swallowing, he shifts in his seat to angle himself to look at his partner of centuries. “This is hypothetical. But what if I were to take it? The cure that is.”

+

“I don’t think Hyacinth would enjoy the same sort of dinner as we do, anyhow.” Pretty though they were. The thought brings a smirk to his lips. But it slides away quickly, as the conversation turns more serious, and Cal shifts in his seat to face Eli more directly. “That is not surprising.” Hyacinth does not agree with his decision, he already knows that, but the matter hardly bothers the ancient vampire. He’s too set in this life, the idea of returning to a frail human form is unappealing at best and deadly at worst. It’s not something he can willingly walk into — not even to follow after Eli. “The decision is yours to make, and if you chose it, then I would support you in it. And we would spend the rest of your days together, until you pass from this world and into the next, if it is still what you desire.” His voice is low and his words are serious, collected but not cold, as he looks at Eli. “Hypothetically.” 

“Oh I know you invited him over.” The annoyance he’d felt that day when everything sunk in had long ago dissipated. They knew each other too well, Cal knew he could lead him to water but making him drink was nigh impossible. And so he’d simply invited the water into the house where he had to just dive headfirst into it. Begrudgingly, Eli was fine with the concept, perhaps a little thankful. He didn’t think he’d have sought out the Spartan prince on his own, in fact they both knew he probably would have refused to. “He’s not…” This part though, admitting he was wrong in any capacity over something he’d felt so strongly over. “He’s not terrible.” Hyacinth was actually kind of likable, but that was as much as he was willing to admit out loud. Eli’s elbow nudges Cal’s side and his eyes narrow for just a moment, but it’s more playful than suspicious. On a surface level, he gets it, they’d been brothers in arms, they were attached to one another. He himself hadn’t really connected with another person the way he’d connected with Cal and therefore he was intent to cling to the man from time to time, the idea of losing him was irrational, but it still sunk in every so often. “I think I’d be lying if I said it didn’t. But it’ll pass.” He pauses, doesn’t make any move to slip away from where he’s tight against the other vampire’s side as he takes a slow sip from his wine glass. “He said he offered you a way out of this.”

+

“I take it he’s already been by, then.” Good. That will make things easier going forward, hopefully. Now that the proverbial ice has been broken. There is little more that Cal wants, then for the two people that have mattered the most to him in this life to come to an understanding. Even if it does not go anything beyond that. “That is high praise, coming from you,” his words come out light and teasing as he smiles, knocking Eli’s shoulder gently with his hand. It’s about what he can hope for between the two of them, at least at first. Eli has never been particularly quick to take to anyone — perhaps Cal himself being a bit of an exception. “He would be a good friend, if you allow him to be.” One of the best he has ever known. The bond they had formed in Sparta is inexplainable to anyone who did not live through it themselves, to know what they had gone through. He can understand, why it would both Eli to some degree, to know things had also been physical between them. “You know you are the only one who matters such to me now.” The only bed with which Cal would share. “He did. I chose not to take it. I have no interest in being a mortal man once again.”

Felix rubbed at the back of his neck, unsure how to go about what it was that he wanted to ask. Perhaps it wasn’t even an ask— it was simply something that he thought Cal should know was on his mind, and he hoped that it wouldn’t disappoint him in the end, not when he had done so much for him in his short life time. “I—“ He let out a breath, a habit that he had held onto from being human, and he sat himself down in one of the chairs that was set on the balcony, looking up at his sire with his dark eyes. “I’ve been talking to Freya, and to Eli and,” he paused, biting his cheek. “Roman. There’s a way, I’ve learned, to make me human again.”

+

There’s something weighing on his progeny, that’s easy to see from the way that Felix carries himself. It makes him slightly concerned, but Cal waits silently rather than speaking, allowing Felix to say what is on his mind rather than attempt to drag it out for himself. He isn’t expecting what the young vampire has to say, though, Cal’s expression softening into one of surprise. Oh. “There is,” he confirms easily, there is no reason to lie about such a thing. Hyacinth’s offer echoes in the back of his mind as he looks down upon Felix. “Is that something you want?”

“You’ve been with the same person for centuries, right?” It’s a careful question over tea. The new place, the villa he and Hippolyta had settled into, he felt it was finally ready to have people over. Not like he thought Cal would care too much about the state of the place, it was Leighton’s own stuffiness, his need for things to be in order that had him hesitant over having anyone over yet. But a lot had happened and frankly, he was going to take advantage of the fact that his sire was in town, their meetings were too far and few between trips. They’d come a bit full circle now, he’d gone back to his family once upon a time, now part of that family had come back. He’d been looking to maybe create a new life with someone else and a part of the past had come to remind him of what he’d left. He wished she’d just show up on his doorstep, that they could just fix everything, but that didn’t seem feasible. @calxlaskaris​

+

“That’s right,” Cal says, nodding his head once. Though Leighton and Eli have never officially made each other’s acquaintance, he’s had no issue speaking of either with the other. Both are a part of his life, and Cal holds so many secrets already close to his chest, he sees no reason to unnecessarily add to them. “He’s here in the city with me, along with another of my progeny.” Perhaps it is time for them to meet, he thinks. There would likely be no more fitting of an opportunity, with everyone in such close proximity. His eyes linger on Leighton’s face, wondering what provoked such curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t think it changes anything.” Emma answered simply, Leighton was a stranger to him, he didn’t know her nor she him. He didn’t owe her anything and she didn’t want anything from him, certainly not a relationship. “In hindsight I’m not sure there was anything he could have said that would have been satisfactory,” she admitted after being able to reflect on as much. “But we had words and now he knows I exist. And I’m not going anywhere.” Emma had used a few choice words of her own but she opted not to repeat them now. “He’s very fond of you, he’s fortunate to have you and Eli.”

+

“Now you know.” Whether it was what she wanted to hear or not, if it gave her any sort of peace about the matter, now she has the truth of what happened. It may be little consolation, but to Cal, the choice of information is always one he would take. “Do you intend to speak to him again?” If he offers her no value, then Cal would not fault her for choosing to cut off the relationship entirely. Even if they share a city together, a stubborn enough soul could make a stranger of near anyone, and he does not doubt Emma’s capability in that. “As he should be.” It is not arrogance, but simple fact, in the matter that they had saved Felix’s life and took him in under their wing. “But the sentiment is returned.”

“Ye could have opened wae that.” Jamie’s eyes narrow for just a moment before he’s relaxing his posture a bit but he doesn’t step back from the door. Because what the hell was Hyacinth doing hanging around another vampire? The familiar sting of jealousy tries to set in but he’s quick to dismiss it, thoughts immediately going to their last meeting at the temple. No, he didn’t have a reason to be jealous, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. “He’s not home, but he’s never away that long.” The man before him was definitely older than him, or just that blunt, to be so flippant. “What business do ye have wae him?” 

+

“Then I will wait,” Cal says simply, leaning back against the wall of the house. Though he figures to simply shove himself inside would be no particularly difficult battle, he understands the fact that Hyacinth would likely be displeased were his companion to come to harm by Cal’s hand. The Spartan had spoken with immense fondness for this man, and though he himself sees little appeal from first glance, the idea of such an attachment is understood. “He is an old friend, and I wish to speak with him.” And little desire to speak of it with the other vampire, who he knows so little about. Cal’s lack of trust has kept him alive for a long time, where others had died, and he does not give it so quickly simply because of well spoken words from another. “It is not a matter that concerns you.”

for: @calxlaskaris​

“I’ve been looking for you.” It was a hectic way to start any conversation, but Felix barrelled through the living room and onto the back porch that Cal was standing, feasibly in an attempt to enjoy the warmth of the sunrise without having anyone interrupt. There were thoughts that had been intrusive, ones that he hadn’t been quite able to shake— after his conversation with Freya and with Eli, he needed to seek out Cal, the one who had given him such a chance— and voice what it was that was overtaking his thoughts. Felix paused, shutting the door behind him, remembering his manners. “Can we talk?”

+

Cal’s head turns in his progeny’s direction, brow rising just slightly at the sort of hurried tone to Felix’s voice. He twists to face him, leaning his hands back against the wooden railing of the porch. “Of course,” his head nods lightly, eyes lingering on Felix’s face. There’s a nervous sort of edge to it, and for a moment, Cal cannot help but wonder what sort of trouble the young vampire has gotten himself into. Still, it’s better that Cal be aware of such things rather than attempting to hide it, so he does not intend to be unsympathetic. “Is there something that troubles you?”

“My father’s alive.” Emma said simply, “As alive as you or me, at any rate.” She added, though her voice quieted and softened towards the end. It was the first time she’d said as much out loud, hard even to admit to herself that not only was he here, but he wasn’t anything like she’d hoped he’d be. “I came here looking for him because I wanted answers: why he left me, why he stayed away. Foolish, I know.” There was something to be said about not meeting your heroes, every night for years she’d placed a candle in her window hoping he’d come back. He never did. Emma realized then that she was wringing her hands together in her lap and set them on either side of her, “I met Felix,” she said, her tone laced with approval. “he seems nice.”

+

“Is that a good thing?” He questions lightly, looking over at Emma. He knows a bit of the story, things that she had told him before about her history. It’s no doubt a spot of contention for the woman, the way things were left between them, the desire for answers that it left behind. “To wish to know the truth is not an act of foolishness.” Cal shakes his head. Emma has as much right to know what effected her life as anybody, and no one is immune to the want of answers. “Did he offer anything of satisfactory to you?” That is perhaps the real question, wither or not she came away from the conversation with any insight that means anything to her. For Emma’s sake, Cal hopes that she found something to give her peace. “He is nice. He’s a good kid. Young, still learning, but good. You two would likely get on well.”

“I see it,” Penelope said, looking over Cal’s face. “How it sits under your skin.” Some species carried an animal under the flesh, but the Spartan held a warrior: to be anything but was to be domesticated— a fate that she would never wish upon someone such as him. No, he would never find comfort in quiet times, not when his hands had grown callused and used to the weight of a sword in them. She wished him a gentler life, but more than that, she wished him to be content. “Perhaps peace is not for me either,” she noted, looking at Cal with a shifted smile. “I have known so little of it, maybe it just exists like fragments of a dream, something just out of reach.” Penelope tapped a finger against the side of her wine glass, “For some, but not you. I would wade into Archeron before I lost you to something as banal as death. Not even Persephone herself could steal you from me.” He was one of her oldest friends, and as a result, one of her dearest— which was why the change in his expression made her feel foolish, like a lovesick girl, bound to make a poor decision. She had gone to Cal first, inconsolable and wretched, and he had helped to piece her together, setting her back on her path when she was patchwork once again. And so, she avoided his gaze, looking out at the stars. “He said he loves me.“

+

“Perhaps I am the evidence of what they say, about old dogs and new tricks.” Though he can no longer carry a sword in hand, in this day and age, Cal still considers himself every bit as much a warrior as he was before. Even if the battles are different. It is a mindset that cannot so easily be put down, even if he wants to — and furthermore, the vampire is not sure that he does. The simple truth is what he told Penelope; that Cal is not sure who he is, if not a warrior. It is not a question he longs to know the answer to, either. “You deserve peace, if it is what you desire. More than someone like myself, at any rate. I hope you can find it.” And Cal would cut this city a bloody red in order to give it to her. He does not mind shouldering the burden, for the sake of Penelope’s happiness. There is too much stain on his soul to make of any difference. It is all he wants for her, for her to find a contentedness in this life he worries she never has. And it is also what makes him concerned for the incubus’s arrival. He has seen her fallen apart before, due to the carelessness in which he treated her heart, and Cal would not see her suffer the same. “He says many things. It is his way.” She is a woman of thousands of years, capable of making her own choices and guiding her own heart, yet he finds himself in disapproval regardless. “Do you think his words are any more true this time around than they were before?”

It’d been centuries together, they’d learned each other’s languages, they’d gone around the world, they’d hunted and fed and managed to somewhat flee a cult of fanatics. They had a home together, they had a progeny that they had practical joint custody of. Eli’s love for Cal, his loyalty to him, was more important to him than any petty squabble they could have. He trusts Cal to get them out of this, all of them. He finds one of his hands clutching at the side of his partner’s shirt and suddenly he wishes they weren’t in public. They’re decently out of the way of the other bar patrons at least and so he doesn’t mind pressing his lips right below Cal’s ear, tucking just a bit closer to his side. He’s allowed to be sappy for a moment, their time in Corinth has been a whirlwind of worry or trying to meet up with old friends. “He came by the house you know, that friend of yours. Were you not going to tell me the two of you were involved?” He can’t be angry about the past, not here, and yet…

+

“I invited him over.” What he hadn’t mentioned was the fact that Cal had no intentions to be there when it happened. It wasn’t that he had no wish to see Hyacinth, it was that he thought things would perhaps go smoother between the two in meeting without his presence there. Though he loves Eli, he would be a fool not to note the other vampire’s possessive streak, and thought that perhaps by removing himself from the equation it would allow them the chance to speak more freely. His brow furrows just slightly at Eli’s words, the way his tone raises in octave at the implication. It is not something Cal has even considered, merely just a fact of their relationship, the history that existed between him and Hyacinth in another time. “It was long ago,” he says, a slight tilt of his head as he looks upon Eli. “Such things were not uncommon in the time.” Between those that had grown together, fought together, survived life by standing at each other’s side. “Does it bother you?”

“I am so tired of war,” Penelope said quietly, her words between them as she drew a hand to her temple. “Of violence, and death. I crave peace, when have we ever known it to exist outside of just a small moment at a time?” For those who bore eternity, it seemed to only be the span of the duration of a breath that the world quieted itself and was content before something started to create noise once again. “I could do nothing for them even if I wished. It is beyond my abilities.” It was a sad admission, but one that she had come to on her own. They would have to fight, or to call upon other ancient powers to draw out the ancient tyrant that they had allowed into their home. Still, she had seen the faces of the Vidalis children, the fear on them as sickness had begun to throttle away their strength, and as she usually did, Penelope was wrought with pity. She tipped back her glass and the crystal edge of the glass caught the light and glinted back, before she set it down with a swallow. “The world is not so linear, death is not always a finality. The past is like a pool of water, sometimes— things resurface,” the rift noted, and her brows pulled in. “And when they do, they are beautiful and full of promises.” Her thoughts returned to a particular cubi, with his dark eyes and his charm. “Mahendra is in Corinth.”

+

“I do not think I know how to exist without war,” Cal replies honestly. It’s a thought that’s been on his mind, how he is never truly content in peace. There is always a part of the Spartan that is waiting for the fallout, for the fighting to begin, and can not truly relax even in times of tranquility. Perhaps therein is the problem that divides him and Eli the most — that while his partner seeks the quiet and the calm, Cal cannot help but hear the ring of war drums. “But I hope that you find the peace that you desire. There are none so worthy of it.” He has no sympathies for the Vidalises, but it strikes to Penelope’s gentleness that she does. It’s a small miracle in itself, that she has remained so kind throughout the ages; that the world has not corroded it away with sharp cuts and acidic touch. Not many people would survive as such, not even a rift. “For most of us, it is,” he reminds. There are not so many with her gift, the ability to reach beyond the veil and into the grasp of death, to return a soul to this world. “And for those of our time, I believe they’ve long moved on.” He cannot quite control it, the way his lip twitches at the mention of the incubus. There is no love lost for the vampire, he had seen the wreck in which the man’s cruelty had left Penelope, an anger set in Cal’s chest that still hasn’t dissipated to this day. “Is he, now?” His words come out cold, but carefully calm, a far cry from the warmth of their previous conversation.