Dagger Axston

The corner of his mouth tugged upward as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The rain had settled into a steady rhythm against the pavement, turning the city into a blur of reflections and distorted lights. There was something strangely calming about it. Maybe because storms were honest. They didn't pretend to be anything other than what they were. His gaze flicked toward Dagger at the mention of the desk waiting for him. "Yeah," he said knowingly. "That's the worst part. The stuff we're avoiding never has the decency to disappear on its own." A pause. "I've checked."

The smile that followed Dagger's agreement caught Dawson's attention more than the words themselves. There was something different about it. Not dramatic. Not earth-shattering. Just enough to notice. Maybe that was the thing about surviving impossible situations. People changed. Not all at once. Not in ways they noticed immediately. Just little shifts over time until one day you heard yourself say something and realized an older version of you would've disagreed. Dawson looked back out at the rain-soaked street.

"I don't know," he admitted after a moment. "I think after a while you either learn to laugh at the insanity or it starts owning too much real estate in your head." His expression softened slightly. "Not saying ignore it. Just..." He searched for the right words. "There has to be room for something besides surviving all the time." Thunder rolled again in the distance, lower this time. Dawson watched the ripples spreading across the puddles at the curb and shrugged one shoulder.

"Besides, reality's got enough people taking it seriously already. Feels like somebody should occasionally remind it we're allowed to enjoy ourselves." The grin returned then, easier this time. "Or at the very least procrastinate with confidence." He nudged Dagger lightly with his shoulder. "For what it's worth, I don't think changing is always a bad thing. Most people spend their whole lives doing it anyway. They just don't usually get a front-row seat to the process."

"I'm Dagger." He offered his hand to male, but hesitated and drew it back a bit. "Axston." He added quietly. Better to put who he was out there front and center than mislead someone into befriending him only to find out later. At least, that was what he thought.

he glanced down the road ahead, pretending to give the question serious consideration. “today's itinerary?” he repeated, a faint grin returning. “well, the original plan was coffee, a bookstore i keep meaning to visit, and maybe convincing myself i needed absolutely nothing from the farmers' market before inevitably buying something anyway.” he looked back at dagger then, the grin widening just a fraction. “not exactly high-octane, i know.” a small shrug followed. “but i've started figuring out that not every day has to earn a place in a report.” his gaze stayed on his brother for a moment longer before he nodded toward the street ahead. “come on. if we're both terrible at making our own plans, we might as well be directionless together.”

"Coffee. Mystery book shop. And a farmer's market trip?" Dagger contemplated the idea for a moment. "Yeah, sure. Why not? Give us some time to hang out." He offered a smile to the man. It was interesting seeing all the little traits and details inherited from their father, but in a man that wasn't issuing him orders or staring him down with authority. The thought made him think to his most recent conversation with his father - and the unexpected words the man had offered him that night. Shaking his head, he glanced around. "Do you have a favorite place to get coffee?" He questioned.

"You thought you hallucinated me?" The question wasn't mocking. If anything, he sounded entertained by the possibility. "Dagger, that's either flattering or deeply concerning. I'm not sure which." His gaze drifted briefly toward the path ahead before returning. "For what it's worth, I was pretty confident you were real. Mostly because I don't usually invent people." The deadpan delivery lasted all of three seconds before another hint of a smile appeared.

Then Dagger answered the actual question.

The humor didn't disappear entirely, but it settled into something quieter. Evander understood that answer more than he wanted to admit. The road stretched around them, winding between districts and destinations neither of them seemed particularly eager to reach.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I know that feeling." His hands remained tucked into his pockets as he shifted his weight slightly, gaze following a distant group of people crossing an intersection before returning to Dagger. "There comes a point where work and home stop being opposite places. They both start feeling like obligations you're trying to recover from."

The words slipped out before he could decide whether they were too honest. Evander let out a quiet breath through his nose and glanced upward briefly, as if checking whether the sky intended to comment on that admission. Fortunately, it didn't.

"So the official answer is we're both just wandering around trying not to be where we're supposed to be." A faint smile returned. "I can work with that."

For a moment he simply studied Dagger, taking in the nervous energy that still hadn't fully left him. The way he seemed caught somewhere between wanting to stay in the conversation and wanting to apologize for existing inside it. Evander decided to make that easier.

Nodding toward the road ahead, he asked casually, "You headed anywhere in particular, or are you committed to the highly strategic plan of seeing where your feet take you?" His gaze lingered on Dagger for a second before a trace of amusement returned. "And before you answer, I should tell you that if your plan is actually just wandering aimlessly, I'm in a terrible position to judge because that's exactly what I've been doing for the last hour."

"They're... one and the same for me." Dagger said quietly and pointed - out down the street and across the various rooftops of the district to the distant, looming outline of Triad HQ. "Home sweet home." He muttered and for the first time he could really recall, there was shame in those words.

He shook his head a few times and tried to backpedal to their lighter conversation. "Wandering." He stated as if setting himself back on course, "Uh... well, if we're both just wandering aimlessly, do you want to wander aimlessly? Together, I mean?" He asked. "Maybe we can, I don't know, talk or something and hope we don't wander into too much trouble?"

he settled beside him without expectation, looking out over the road where travelers crossed between districts that still felt stitched together by chance rather than design. “funny thing is, i spent years wishing for quiet,” naveen admitted after a moment. “thought having nowhere urgent to be would feel like freedom.” he exhaled softly through his nose. “turns out it mostly just leaves you alone with questions you kept putting off.”

"I guess that's something we have in common. That means it had to have come from our Father's side of the family, you know?" He joked, but nodded his head once. "I'm not exactly the greatest at carving my own path through things. Everything's always been laid out in front of me with memos and meetings and training sessions all planned and prepared." He looked around them for a moment. "Nowadays, I'm not even sure I'm remembering to wake up at the right time, or to eat when I'm supposed to."

Dagger let out another small chuckle, though it lacked humor. Shaking his head, he turned to the man. "What did you decide to plan for today? Maybe I'll hijack your itinerary."

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully. "I think my contract technically requires me to leave the rink at least once a week."

His gaze flicked toward Dagger, catching the way he immediately tried to walk back the comment. The fumbling. The quick redirect. The complete lack of composure compared to the man he'd met a few weeks ago. It was... oddly endearing.

Evander decided not to mention that.

"Hi," he returned simply.

The teal-skinned fae disappeared around a bend in the road, taking the subject with them. Or trying to.

Dagger's immediate defense earned him another faint look of amusement.

"I didn't say you were," Evander pointed out. "You got very specific very fast, though."

A beat passed.

"Which is usually how innocent people sound."

His tone made it clear he wasn't actually accusing him of anything.

The question turned back on him, and Evander glanced down the road they'd both been occupying before this conversation hijacked it.

"Walking."

He let the answer sit there for exactly long enough to be annoying before adding, "I had the afternoon off. Didn't feel like staying inside. Thought I'd see where I ended up."

His shoulders lifted in a small shrug.

"Apparently the answer was here."

The words came out easier than he intended. Casual. Honest. Maybe a little more direct than necessary.

Evander cleared his throat softly and nodded toward the road stretching ahead of them.

"So if you weren't planning to follow the fae," he said, rescuing them both from that statement before it had time to become anything else, "what were you actually doing?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in mock consideration.

"And before you say walking," he added, a faint curve tugging at his mouth again, "I should warn you I'm prepared to find that answer extremely unhelpful."

"You caught me off guard." He finally said once the man's tone registered. "I.. wasn't really expecting to see you. Here. I mean, I had thought for a minute I had just imagined the other day in some sort of vivid daydream kind of thing." Dagger explained; the sudden wave of nerves that washed through him pushing the words out too quickly.

At the question about what he was doing, Dagger indeed opened his mouth to return the sentiment. When Evander warned him he was prepared to debate that, Dagger just sighed. "Just... trying to escape work? Home? Both? It all kind of blurs together for me." He finally answered.

"See, now that's relatable." He gestured vaguely toward Dagger with the hand holding the cigarette. "Not the apocalypse part. The avoiding-things-you-should-be-doing part. That's basically a citywide hobby at this point."

Thunder rolled again, louder this time, and Dawson glanced out at the rain cascading from rooftops and awnings. It came down hard enough to blur the far end of the street into a watercolor smear of lantern light and movement.

"Honestly, I don't even know what counts as responsible behavior anymore." The corner of his mouth tugged upward. "Three years ago? Sure. Go to work. Pay rent. Don't get arrested. Simple." He paused. "Now? Half the city is displaced, the other half is technically from different centuries, and every time somebody says, 'Don't worry, we've got it under control,' something catches on fire."

He pushed away from the wall long enough to lean over and inspect one of the rapidly growing puddles at the curb before settling back again.

"Besides, aimless wandering is underrated." His tone turned mock-serious. "You call it avoiding responsibility. I call it gathering information. Very important distinction."

A beat passed before he glanced sideways at Dagger again.

"Let me guess. Whatever you're avoiding is still gonna be there after the rain stops, isn't it?"

The question wasn't really a question. Dawson had enough experience with procrastination to recognize the look of somebody carrying something around because they didn't particularly want to unpack it.

He scratched the back of his neck and looked back out toward the storm.

"For what it's worth, I figure if reality gets to take a break from making sense every now and then, we probably do too." A faint grin appeared. "That's my professional opinion, anyway."

"Granted, my profession is pouring whiskey for people making questionable decisions, so maybe don't put too much stock in it."

A smile worked its way onto his lips. "You know what? That's totally fair. You're right - if reality doesn't have to play it serious all the time, why should we?" He questioned in the voice of someone he didn't recognize. The Dagger Axston he knew would have scoffed at the idea of not taking things serious whenever possible. Had he really changed that much?

“Ah. Good,” she said, nodding once toward the bow already in his hands. “I was worried I would have to protect you with stolen potato chips.”

The bag was still sticking halfway out of her jacket pocket.

Priorities.

Another crash echoed from somewhere deeper in the store, rattling the shelves hard enough to send a box of cereal tumbling to the floor. Stasia's eyes tracked toward the noise, then back to Dagger.

“I would put odds at..." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "...three percent.”

A beat.

“Five if it is raccoon.”

Another heavy thud shook the floor beneath them.

Her expression deadpanned.

“Two percent.”

She rolled her shoulders once and started moving deeper into the aisle, knife loose in her grip. The emergency lights painted everything in ugly shades of red, turning grocery shelves into narrow corridors and familiar products into looming shadows.

“Every horror movie starts exactly like this,” she muttered. “Suspicious noise. Questionable lighting. People making objectively terrible decisions.”

The sound came again.

Closer this time.

Something scraped against metal shelving with a long, unpleasant screech.

Anastasia stopped.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Tell me if you see glowing eyes.”

A beat.

“Actually, do not tell me.”

Another beat.

“Just shoot them.”

She continued forward carefully, every movement controlled despite the sarcasm. The red emergency lights flickered overhead as another crash sounded from the far end of the aisle.

Then she saw it.

A shape.

Large.

Moving.

Definitely not human.

The glow caught several pairs of eyes at once.

Too many eyes.

Far too many eyes.

Anastasia stared at it for exactly one second before letting out a long, suffering sigh.

“See?” she said quietly, gesturing toward it with her knife. “This is why I do not buy groceries.”

The creature shifted, turning fully toward them.

Its eyes reflected crimson beneath the emergency lights.

Anastasia immediately pointed her knife at it.

“Rude.”

Then she lunged forward.

"Whatever this is would have to be fae, right? Vampires and werewolves don't make these kinds of sounds. And witches--" Dagger stopped rambling as another loud thud shook the shelves and far too many eyes gleamed at them from the mass that slid into view at the end of the aisle. "What the.." Was all he could mutter before Stasia raised her knife and sprang forward. Shit.

An unearthly growl escaped the creature as it reared back and peeled back a pair of thick lips to reveal rows of jagged and broken teeth. As Stasia moved forward, the beast swiped a thick, meaty arm between them - snapping the thin, carbon-fiber shaft of the arrow Dagger loosed in response. "Stasia, careful!" The hunter called out and dug into his jacket for another arrow.

He could see the beast more clearly now, despite the crimson wash throughout the building. Its form was neither humanoid or bestial, rather the creature before them seemed to be not more than a mass of thick, sinewy muscle and skin. The multitude of eyes upon what Dagger could only describe as its 'face' rested not on a distinct head, but rather the topside of its large body. A tadpole, Dagger decided - the beast was like some halted growth between a tadpole and fully developed froglike creature. Round bodied; a quadruped means of movement; and if the creature possessed any tail of sorts, Dagger couldn't see it beyond the length of the aisle the three of them occupied. "God, I miss when things were only as complex as 'stake to the heart'...." Dagger muttered.

Not unusual in itself. People stopped for all kinds of reasons in the Broken City. Strange architecture. Passing dragons. Arguments that looked like they might become somebody else's problem.

A teal-skinned fae, however, was admittedly less common.

His gaze followed the same figure for a moment before settling on the man who seemed equally distracted by them.

"Dangerous habit."

The words arrived without warning but without hostility, delivered in the same tone someone might use to comment on the weather.

Evander slowed to a stop nearby, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. The evening air was cool enough to be pleasant, carrying the scent of damp earth from the Bayou and woodsmoke from somewhere deeper in the city.

"Staring, I mean," he clarified after a beat, a faint curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. "People either think you're interested in them or planning to rob them. Sometimes both."

His gaze drifted briefly back toward the departing fae.

"Though in your defense, they're probably used to it by now."

He shifted his weight, posture relaxed and easy despite the fact that he recognized the face. Not personally. Just enough.

Dagger.

"You look like you're trying to decide whether to keep walking or follow them," Evander observed. "I'm curious which one wins."

"What? No, I'm not going to follow them." Dagger stated with the slightest bit of shock at the suggestion. "I'm not interested in them or going to rob them either." He added quickly, remembering the earlier remark. "What are you doing on this side of town anyway?" He quickly asked, if only so he would quit making a fool of himself.

Once. Twice. Then the entire building went dark with a low electrical groan.

The cashier swore somewhere behind the counter.

“Fantastic,” Anastasia muttered, holding the chips up toward the dead fluorescents. “Very dramatic. Ten out of ten haunted grocery experience.”

Outside, thunder rolled low over the Broken City, close enough to rattle the windows. The storm had come in fast — thick clouds, sharp wind, the kind of air that made every instinct in her spine sit upright.

And then the emergency backup lights kicked on red.

Not comforting. Never comforting.

Stasia slowly lowered the chips.

“…Okay, now it feels like beginning of horror movie.”

A crash sounded somewhere deeper in the store.

Not human. Too heavy.

The few people inside froze. One woman gasped. Someone dropped a basket.

Anastasia sighed through her nose like the universe had personally inconvenienced her.

“Of course,” she said softly. “Because God forbid I buy snacks in peace.”

She shoved the chips into her jacket pocket without paying for them — priorities — then turned toward the darkened aisle, already rolling her shoulders loose.

“Anybody back there planning to eat civilians,” she called out calmly, accent curling through the words, “this is your warning to reconsider lifestyle choices.”

Another thud answered her.

Stasia’s expression flattened.

“Mm. Bad listener.”

She reached behind her back, drawing a knife in one smooth motion as she started forward through the red-lit aisles.

Then, sensing someone else nearby, she glanced sideways without slowing.

“You armed,” she asked casually, “or are you about to become emotional support?”

He leaned back against the brick wall beside the shopfront, sleeves shoved to his forearms, damp curls sticking slightly at his temples from where he’d clearly lost the race against the weather too.

The smell of rain against hot pavement rolled through the street sharp and earthy, mixing with old stone and whatever somebody nearby was burning for heat.

Dawson glanced sideways at Dagger, catching the upward look toward the sky.

“Honestly? I forgot weather used to happen normally.” A corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “Kinda thought the universe just rotated between apocalypse haze and supernatural bullshit now.”

Thunder rumbled somewhere far off.

He looked out toward the flooding street, watching people scramble under awnings and into doorways like startled animals.

“…City feels different when it rains,” he said after a moment, quieter this time. “Like everybody remembers it’s alive again for a second.”

Then, with a sideways glance back toward him:

“You got somewhere to be, or are we both just pretending we had plans before the sky started falling?”

A gentle thunder rolled overhead and he turned to look the man over. "Can't say I do." He admitted. "Pretty sure I was in the middle of the exact opposite - avoiding things I probably should have been doing in favor of aimless wandering."

he let dagger work through it—the half-formed logic, the frustration of trying to pin something down that refused to stay still—watching with the same quiet patience he gave most things that were… almost there.

“you’re not wrong,” he said finally, voice even, grounding rather than correcting. “it shouldn’t just happen.”

his gaze shifted back to the rain, tracking the rhythm of it against the pavement like it might reveal something if he watched long enough.

“weather follows systems,” he continued. “pressure, temperature, movement. cause and effect. even here, those rules don’t disappear—they just… get interrupted.”

a slight pause, his brow tightening almost imperceptibly.

“this doesn’t feel like interruption,” he added. “it feels like reintroduction.”

his attention flicked back to dagger then, sharper now but not unkind.

“which means something allowed it. or needed it.”

he adjusted his sleeve again, more out of habit than necessity, eyes drifting to the edge of the street where water was beginning to pool in uneven patterns.

“you’ve been in your head,” he acknowledged, quieter this time. “fair. most people are. but the ‘minor’ memos tend to be where the early warnings live.”

not a reprimand. just truth.

a beat.

“storms like this don’t arrive without context,” he went on. “and in a place held together by unstable magic and borrowed reality…” his gaze lifted briefly to the sky, then back down, “context usually means someone—or something—is testing the boundaries.”

he let that settle for a second before his tone shifted, just slightly.

less clinical. more direct.

“so the question isn’t whether it’s natural,” grayson said. “it’s whether it’s controlled.”

his eyes met dagger’s again.

“and whether we’re meant to notice.”

"I don't know." He muttered after a few moments. "This storm doesn't feel as... charged, as the one conjured up by the High Lord. It feels almost normal, but I don't know whether that's more comforting or unsettling." He explained. "I'm sure there are other fae that can manipulate the weather with their magics, but something is just shouting at me that this is just rain."

“yeah, that tracks,” she said. “give people five minutes and someone’s lighting candles and calling it a prophecy.”

her gaze drifted down the street, where puddles were already spreading across the cracked pavement, catching the glow from the lanterns in shaky reflections. when he mentioned sirens, something in her expression shifted—small, but real.

“sirens used to mean someone was on their way,” she said, almost absently. “now half the time it’s just… silence.”

she rubbed the back of her thumb against the inside of her wrist without thinking, the movement brief before her hand dropped again.

“i get the not knowing part,” tonia added after a moment, glancing back at him. “used to be chaos still had rules. fires spread a certain way. storms built before they broke. you could read the signs if you knew what to look for.”

she tipped her head toward the rain.

“this?” a small shrug followed. “this just shows up when it feels like it.”

for a second she just watched the water hit the street, then she gave him a sideways look, faintly amused again.

“but honestly? i’ll take unpredictable weather over unpredictable people.” a beat. “storms don’t lie about what they’re doing.”

"Yeah, storms are pretty telling. Even that freak storm last year only had one thing on its agenda - causing damages wherever it could." Dagger remarked. The High Lord's storm wasn't something so easily forgotten, even months after the fact. A testament to his stepmother's folly that day. "People can lie. Storms don't get that luxury."

“Old athlete is generous,” she said, glancing back out at the rain as it battered the sidewalk. “Feels more like it’s flexing for no reason. Like, we get it. You’re still dramatic.”

When he introduced himself, she tipped her head slightly, rainlight catching in her lashes. “Indi,” she returned, simple. No flourish. No last name.

The bookstore comment earned a faint lift of her brow. “You don’t melt easy, huh? Good. I hate dragging puddles of regret down the sidewalk.”

Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance, low and unimpressed.

She pushed off the brick, stepping just to the edge of the awning, testing the rain with her hand like she was negotiating terms. “It’s only a block. Worst case scenario, we look like we made questionable life choices for about ninety seconds.”

A beat. Then, softer:

“Plus the cat’s brutal. If it approves of you, that’s basically character clearance in this district.”

She glanced sideways at him, that crooked almost-smile back in place.

“C’mon, Dagger. Let’s go see if you survive the audit.”

"Well, if the cat's judgment is so important, I'll be sure to make a good impression then." He remarked as stepped up to the edge of the awning's protective cover. With a nod, he stepped out into the spray of droplets - the chill they carried with them bringing an involuntary shiver down his spine.

Not wary. Just assessing. Instinct before manners.

Then he shifted his weight and took it—firm grip, brief, knuckles rough and calloused. No unnecessary squeeze. No dominance game. Just acknowledgment.

“Sin,” he replied. Not Easton. Not tonight.

Rain drummed harder against the awning, bouncing off the sidewalk in quick silver bursts. He glanced toward the gym again, then back at Dagger with the faintest tilt of his head.

“Free schedules are dangerous,” he said, starting down the sidewalk without checking whether Dagger followed—just trusting he would. “Mind wanders. You start volunteering for things you don’t actually care about.”

His boots cut through shallow puddles like they weren’t there.

“And yeah,” he added after a second, voice quieter but steady, “storm’s still got teeth. Fog, rain—city likes to remind you it’s bigger than whatever you’ve got planned.”

They reached the gym’s side door. Easton pulled a key from his pocket, worked the lock without flourish, and pushed it open. Warm air and the faint scent of old canvas and cleaning solution drifted out.

“Coffee’s terrible,” he warned, stepping inside and holding the door with his shoulder. “But it’s dry. And nobody in here’s gonna ask you what you’re doing with your life.”

A beat.

“That alone’s worth a cup.”

"Ask any of my friends - " His whole, singular friend he had left these days, " - and they'll tell you that I am the absolute worst at having free time. It's like I'm allergic to it, but my first instinct is to fill it with more work rather than 'fun'." Dagger explained with a shake of his head. Footfalls carried him alongside the other until they reached the gym's door. As Sin opened it up, Dagger gave one last look behind them before stepping inside.

"That's a relief. I wouldn't have an answer to give them these days." Dagger remarked back. "That's worth a whole pot." He corrected.

“Normalizing,” he echoed quietly. “That’s one way to put it.” His gaze tipped back to the street, the puddles knitting themselves into brighter mirrors. “Feels more like the city’s testing whether it’s allowed to be ordinary again. Like it’s poking the edges to see what sticks.”

At the idea of the place taking personal offense, his mouth curved just a fraction. “Yeah. It’s got that energy. You try to map it, it redraws itself out of spite.” A beat. “Keeps people honest. Or tired. Depends on the day.”

He shifted his weight, rain misting the air between them, and followed Dagger’s gesture with a glance to the open street. “Recommendations?” Joey considered it like he might a route through bad weather. “There’s a café two blocks that pretends to be dry. Leaks around the windows, but the back booths are safe if you don’t mind the smell of burnt espresso.” A pause. “Or we wait it out here and see if the city gets bored of proving a point.”

His eyes tracked the rain a moment longer before returning to Dagger, easy, unpressured. “Either way works. I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere. Weather like this tends to make its own plans.”

"I shouldn't complain, really. I mean, it wasn't that long ago I was complaining about the New Orleans weather just the same. Maybe one of those Courts we're connected to has a better climate. I'll have to take a look one day." He mused quietly. "You taken the leap of faith and ventured beyond this city?"