MortalitysEcho

"Amaris!"

"What? Should I lie and say they miss us? That they miss sitting in the interview for a few hours on a Sunday afternoon? I'm sure a few miss the change of pace, a common place to meet and hang out, but overall we're blips to them, nothing of value. Remember, none of us are the exception. And if you think you are, you most likely aren't. Observation isn't confirmation." The elder reminds the younger.

"How can you say that!" Daphne exclaims, appalled, a hand to her chest, her latest acrylic set a coral pink with blue shell pieces shimmering in the paint . "I bet a certain someone is thinking of you often and resents that very idea you think such things. In fact, I think a certain family does care a great deal about you."

"They care about me cause I'm useful. You read the journals; I've been judged and the families aren't exactly keen on my family. I don't blame them for keeping a distance, nor do I want their pity." The elder sighs stopping at a juice shop to get something to cool her body down. The redness on her skin was killing her.

"This is a new generation, a clean slate, yes their predecessors matter but you aren't a child anymore, you are a woman. And they can trust you, their idiots if they don't at this point! You are not a monster or some prostitute," Daphne hissed at her side as they placed their orders on a kiosk. "I don't understand why you're letting these lies stand. Speak out. Correct them all. Rise and take what's yours."

"There are pieces in play you know nothing about. You know that." Cards slide and the register reads approved. "And staying hidden is survival. Never let someone know how big your arsenal is till you have them cornered and cut off. Even then, better they never know."

"Amaris, you can trust them, they don't look at you with contempt or uncertainty. Please, you need someone to watch your back."

"They're busy, and while I wouldn't mind some assistance, I also know I'm too high of a risk right now. Not smart business. I also have nothing to offer to prove I can be of value to them."

"Nothing to offer?!" Daphne's hand slams against the table they sat at. Amaris jolts and gives her companion a look as she apologizes for frightening the brunette. "Sorry— I just—Damn it, Amaris, you create worlds, you make the unstable stable, you can make nothing into something extraordinary. You literally have handed Bellamy a map to finding every pit of bodies Dahlia made in the past twenty years, and then extended that globally. I read the newspaper articles about Egypt and Peru. I saw the international news station connect the bite marks and gnawed on limbs to one predator. You alter fate and leave it breathless, you make the dead rise and thank you before they depart justified. You expose what hides and always cast a shadow for those you wish to protect. You are Mortality, you are fiercely loyal to those who don't deserve it. You're an alchemist and damn any human who decides you are worthless because they will suffer not having you as a bullet in their gun."

Blinking at the enraged blonde before her with a tropical color beaded fabric flower at her neck attached to the expensive blouse she wore, Amaris pondered just how so much anger could fit in such a petite woman. Some parts of the world may never be solved, and she was okay with that.

Huffing with an apologetic smile Daphne takes her seat across from her as their drinks arrive. Orange juice and a strawberry lemonade, bright with color in the hot weather.

It's as they both sip on their drinks and Daphne spills a line that Amaris chokes.

"Jade mentioned several of them had shown up at the fundraiser in March."

"What?"

"They were there, just disguised or something. I didn't see them, but Jade was apparently a waiter. They were there, Amaris. Des invited them all, and they showed up." The pink dove explains, chirping away with the speed of a jet. Still hopeful to prove her friend wrong about being useless to the Mafia.

Her mind flashed back to the event. Cameras, shadows, so many bodies and people. She hadn't seen a sign or any recognizable characteristic. Oh, they were very good. It probably helped that she had been blind for most of the night. Come to think of it, she didn't remember the face of the waiter she'd grabbed her glass from. Or when she'd thanked a caterer for their hard work when she'd found that glass of sparkling grape juice. She thought it had been a great service; she'd tipped generously, now she wondered if they really had been there. Watching, enjoying the bar and food, just being people for the night. Hidden in plain sight.

"Did he say who?" Daphne shakes her head.

"No, just wanted to know about your eyes."

"Of course he did. They probably were right in front of me, and I couldn't see them." They continue walking as she simmered in mortification over the realization. Leaving the juice shop behind.

She spoke of them, fondly of course, but she tried to keep her true feelings about them under wraps unless speaking directly to a group needing an explanation. They had found her quite literally in her element, putting on a show as they did on Sundays. Hearing how she truly felt with no filter of the written word between her and them. How she admired their skills and methods, comradery and general family, how impressed she was. How she stood up for them. She wanted to bury herself under the concrete. Way to reveal her hand when they gave her little proof of their point of view. If The King was there she'd rather never see him again cause she knew he'd have that shit eating grin of victory that seemed to feed his pride and stroke his ever blossoming ego. She called Ruggie her spouse! Her husband?! What the hell was she thinking!

She had been truly,and in a way it was briliant and clever to disguise truth with more truth but words that hid between societal jargon. She'd been cornered, circled in, touched and trying to survive, doing her best to not release her tongue and topple empires while a monster pawed at her hips and nibbled at her ears. At least she had stayed honest through it all. Her blog reflected the same sentiment if one looked for it. She had never lied, just changed the lighting.

Dahlia. Seven's she wanted to scream. Had they seen? Seen him touching, making small talk, sticking to her side all night like a leech. Trying to get her necklace off her like it was an international sport with how he caressed the nape of her neck while fiddling with her bracelet. Thank the Sevens Daphne had sewn her into her dress that night, or he may just have tried to fiddle with that too.

At least nothing had been revealed, unless one counted her private files being released after the police were hacked a few weeks later. But even then, radio silence on all fronts. The Mafia was excellent at staying silent. Apparently even when receving jaw dropping information, though she shouldn't be surpised, they probably had known, she hadn't been subtle at all in her blog. What did they do in their free time? Did they have any?

They round a corner and Amaris smiles seeing just what she had hoped to see standing where she'd asked. Looking over at Daphne, who was scrolling on her phone, talking about a white cat she'd seen making funny noises, the brunette places a hand over the screen bringing the blonde's train of thought to a halt.

Amaris taps Daphne's arm pointing slightly to a few men ahead of them, varying in height, dressed in tailored suits. "Seems Russia missed you." She cooed in the younger's ear. "Have them back by 9am Tuesday sharp for their return flight, okay?"

The blonde just lets her pink lacquered lips part in shock. "You didn't..."

"Happy 24th birthday Daph."

Tears well up in the silky pink-dressed woman's eyes as she blinks them back to look at her best friend, wiping beneath her lashes to prevent smears already. "This is what took you so long to come home? You went to Russia, for me? You almost died multiple times for me?"

Amaris lets her gaze travel to the group once more that hadn't seen them yet. "No one should be without their home. I knew you missed yours. So I brought it to you."

"'Maris..." Daphne whines softly gripping the elder's rolled sleeve on the white button-up she wore. The fabric ached under her grip but she didn't care, let her acrylics pierce it, she'd buy more for her friend. She owed her so much. Life, love, happiness, freedom... What was she offering in comparison? What did she give to help her thrive?

A ruddy-burnt hand rubs the back of her own, calling the blonde to remember just where she was, who was present.

"Daphne, go."

And that's all the pink-clad woman needed as she ran, taking flight in a flurry of feathers in the heat, wilted but no less enthusiastic. "Боже мой, вы все здесь!*"

"Дафна!*" The three men scream back and collide with her speaking so rapidly in Russian that those on the street stop to stare. A pink woman wrapped in her family's arms tears streaming down her face as she pours out how much she missed them despite the smile of joy she wore like a beacon.

They bicker for a time, laughing and one of them pulling at her headband that had pearls on it, calling it cheap, while the other fixes her makeup with a handkerchief from his suit pocket. The third looked beyond the reunion to the woman who was gone.

"Where is your pet, sister?"

Daphne frowned hearing the word she despised, brow laced together. "She isn't a pet."

"Spare parts then." The brother playing with her head band prods and she glares.

"She is a woman, human, and perfectly capable of living her own life. I let her do as she pleases, as she should be able to."

"Sure she is. Just like the rest of her kind. Been all over the news lately attacking locals in more tourist spots. Wonder why they came out of hiding."

"Or who released them." The second chimes in.

"Amaris isn't like them. You know that."

"Every beast eventually turns on its master, some pets are too dangerous to keep."

The blonde sighs, adjusting a cuff link on one of her brothers shirts. "She'll prove you wrong, she already has."

"How so?"

"She's not a killer, nor does she consume any kind of flesh for the very reasons you dare to call her a beast. She's removed all opportunities for anyone to call her anything but human, so do shut up. She's rewriting the game."

The AC has broken. Joy.

Amaris sat in her apartment with a fan blowing as sweat dripped down her neck making the makeup melt off and into her gaping collar that hung open to her chest. Staining the white fabric skin toned.

She had run out of the good tattoo coverage stuff in Brazil and had made do with covering her body in heavy concealer and staying as dry as possible. Living in hostels the past few months as she traveled the globe writing pieces, and blogging as a traveler once more had been anything but glamorous. But it was something she'd wanted to do for ages since coming back and setting roots in the city. Finally, she was out on her own, living free, give or take a few close calls.

But what was life without someone trying to kill you?

Morocco had been fun, dodging knives as a few pay-to-play scouts made attempts on her life. Luckily, only one alerted the media; everything else was hidden from any official sources. Egypt had been sabotaged. Cars, food, her saddle, or guides. Everything had been rigged to increase death. But the views and the time in the desert had been otherworldly. The stars were never so brilliant, and the sun was enough to silence her running monologue for a brief moment of awe. Sweden was a short visit, but the real trouble had started as she was leaving to board her plane. A passenger snapped and attacked her in the cabin, unhinged in their bloodlust that she managed to wrap their neck in the seat belts as a restraint. Teeth gnashing at her with predatory eyes.

It seemed the Desmond Family, her family, and its large wings had unfurled to hunt her, death by her own kind. What a way to apply a weapon that could be used to create mass hysteria around the world. What a way to threaten her with exposure by hanging out the one thing that could bring them both plummeting down. They were desperate now. Good.

Brazil brought three more when she was enjoying the pool at a fancy hotel. The staff begged her to overlook the waterboarding and room break-ins; she had simply given them their dues. Ten out of ten experience. It wasn't their fault their hotel had been a playground for revenge.

The layaway in China had been eventful, another poisoning attempt after she posted about the lion dancers in the local markets. She'd almost missed her flight, but downing some herbs she knew had helped. Her body could handle far more than most, it was built into her DNA after all. Thanks mom and dad.

She flew to Europe and connected with a few colleagues from her years abroad. Her interns— what remained of them— would be arriving at their respective internships any day now. And so when she got lit on fire in a London subway bathroom, she hadn't expected the aching burn of her skin that followed well into her return home.

With the local powers that be scrambling to undo her atomic bomb on their names with The Justice Papers, it gave her mind more time to get occupied with a few leather journals she'd set aside till now, and she was finally ready to pull them open once more. After all, she was being hunted now, and who knew when she'd have a moment again.

Tucking a leg up, the powdery color of her stripes were a bit tawny in places still, the stripes bold with a strawberry vanilla sheen of the two-tone complexion she bore. How nice of a person to try to take a flamethrower to her, she wasn't about to tell Daphne she fought off a fire bender and his friends though. The poor girl would fall over in shock knowing the pink coloring she had was first-degree burns and not sun damage. Sevens she hated fire.

Unsticking her other thigh from her desk chair she reached for the journals and cracked them open to another colorful sticky note. She pulled it, sticking it to her desk as she stretched and tied her hair up higher to try to cool her skin. She felt like she was melting.

What she wouldn't give for some ice...

Later, work first. Her mind ordered with a purr, and she settled in her oversized shirt, bare beneath of anything but what she chose to cover with, lace as black as the pupils she had seen expand on her months ago that were more an abyss she wanted to dive into and find out what he wanted to do in them. Hopefully, he could play with her curiosity the same way he played with her nerves. Who was she kidding? She'd suggest it if he needed a nudge.

She groans and rubs her temple. Of course he came to mind now. Not during her trip, not when she was in danger, but after, in the silence and late nights, in the stargazing, sunset watching, and apparently sweaty afternoon hot boxes that were known as city apartments. In moments where she was safe enough to dream.

"Focus, later." She growls to her subconscious. It had been a bit since she'd given herself room to think of the hyena. For good reason. She felt sick every time she tried. Her nerves were never-ending; she loved reading about slow burns, not living them. But what if...

She shakes her head, hair falling from its perch with no pen to keep it in place. She had run out on her trip and hadn't had a chance to restock her supply of bank pens yet. She would need to stop at the bank to deposit everything she'd made anyway.

No Amaris. Don't doubt what is real. Trust him. You can be patient. Besides, you have to find the donut shop still. Can't show up empty-handed. He needs assurance you're serious about him. Pull yourself together and figure out a plan!

Tapping her tablet screen she pulled the metal stylus from its compartment and stuck it in her hair instead. It was too hot to move far from her spot at the normally airy desk in the corner of her living room hidden behind a bookshelf she used as a privacy screen to the rest of her home. One did need a workspace to compartmentalize at times.

The tiny fan she had wirred away, fluctuating in strength as it worked tirelessly for her need to stay cool.

Those sapphire eyes drifted down to the journal's inked pages, clearly expensive ink by how it had smeared at the edges. Probably an inkwell quill. Fancy.

Knox returned to us today, her mystery child she'd hid from us all at her side, the eyes of Claws in her face. I felt for the child, but her mother, she was another beast entirely.

So far she had discovered her mother's white lie of going to the Kingscholars for protection. While it hadn't been a complete lie, it hadn't been the truth. Mira had been scared, terrified for her daughter. The King's father wrote of how Mira begged him to take her in, to test her and see if she was worth the trouble. To protect her.

Knox accused a member of the family of killing Claws, we had to restrain her in her grief as Administrator explained to me how he knew Knox didn’t intend shame or accusations. His reasoning and handling of Knox’s daughters' testing for capability eased my mind.

Each page was a written documentation of that day. She had been tested, apparently meeting The King, playing a game of chess with the bastard, losing, and biting him at some point cause he antagonized her. She did not remember doing that, nor meeting him. She wondered if he did... It made all her comments on biting his back more tongue-in-cheek now. Whoops.

Seeing the youth has always brought my weary spirit rest, but this youth was not fit to learn. After a chess game between her and my youngest, she showed her lack of patience. She had too much of her father in her. Leona was better suited to be trained, pity Knox’s daughter did not inherit her intelligence, but instead Claws’s temperament and lack of control. A waste of useless flesh that would neer hold shape. She would be a poison to us; and her mother, mad with grief, would only split us apart with her rage if they stayed in our protection from what had hunted Claws.

Scribbling a few key words that were jibberish to anyone but her on the tablet she reads on, recalling more of her mother's story. Apparently, The King's father hadn't known Mira's origins until that moment. She hadn't told anyone much in the end, just asked for trust.

So I made my choice and cast mother and daughter back to where she had hidden them, back to where she had chosen motherhood over us. I had opened my home, let her grow this Family, breathe life into its spirit. Teach as she had been taught, and yet in the end she could not trust us with the truth of her heart, her origins and history, nor were relations allowed within the Family to keep us as one mind. She knew this, and yet she and Claws defied me. Administrator suggested keeping an eye on the child, just in case she showed promise.

Had Mira not trusted The King's father? No, clearly she had to to work for him. She grew his empire. She had invested everything into making sure they survived by the words written. If Mira hadn't she knew her mother well enough to know Mira would have left them to rot. Her mother had been paranoid after all. For good reason with Dahlia tailing her for years, hiding in plain sight till by the time it was too late to free the Kingscholar head from his clutches, she realized on Tal's death what he was. Mira had no choice but to run and hide when The King's father refused to listen. Refused to protect her daughter. Refused to cast the real monster aside.

If fate had been kinder to Knox, if she had been honest in her desire for a family of her own, maybe her daughter would have had a place. But I cannot let discourse rise. I cannot let death take my Family. I am the head, and as such I must cut off any limb that is infected.

Of course, there were pieces she found that told her of the man's pride, his blindness. His inability to fathom beyond what he valued. And most of all the fear of her becoming a monster and wanting to protect his family.

Administrator was always the better choice to listen to, for his knowledge is well-informed and he always knows what is necessary. I trust his guidance and counsel these days as deaths seem to come from all sides, piling higher, a killer that eats bone and flesh hidden in the darkness. Administrator says Claws was one such monster, I dread what his child becomes. His body was handed off to Administrator to deal with accordingly.

I pity the child, her future is dark. Administrator has started visiting Knox to keep them hidden from her past, good riddance to such a family line. It was my effort to invite her to continue sharing her ways, her unique views of the world, and how to master it a few years later. I had hoped to end our feud and welcome her back in exchange for her skills to teach the next generation, Leona missed her and Falena needed a tutor to refine his edges. But Administrator tells me she has rejected us and forges her own path now. The other Families have listened to Administrator's words at my request. No help will come from us to Knox and her daughter, a monster in the making. None of us has the heart to kill a child that clings to its mother with tears in its eyes.

That child… the darkness will come for her, she should be eaten by it. Let Knox's past devour her. She should never have existed.

But what stuck was that he had known what her father was. Not just a mixed-breed beastman, but a monster that fought his nature to endure this life and fall in love with a woman who had a body count worth its weight in diamonds all over the world. Tal was insane in a way, but then again, he had gotten his dream. Mira, and she had fought his nature to keep him with her till the last day they had together. And they had been happy all things considered, till it went up in flames.

Sticky note after sticky note joined the growing neon pile as she read all relevant parts. Never stepping beyond them. She wasn't a gossip nor a seeker of information she didn't need.

Administrator seemed to be rather good at hiding himself. Manipulating facts and proof freely. Even then he had his fingers everywhere...

As my health weakens still I am tasked with raising Falena up in my place as soon as I can. How soft I have become in my weakness to let them both live, but to preserve my Family I must make plans I cannot foresee. I must look to my own now. Knox has abandoned us and Administrator is all that remains.

So The King's father had been ill even then. Dahlia, better known as Administrator then in the family, seemed to have quite the confidence of the elder lion.

She didn't blame him for seeing her as a beast. No wonder they all kept their distance still. They knew what she was, even if it wasn't named.

Monster.

Flesh eater.

Devourer.

Snapping the journals shut she sets them aside with shaking hands needing a moment to breathe.

Dusk had won over the sky outside and the full throbbing of traffic called her to forget her troubles and go watch the dying hours of light before night stole the sky completely.

Water ran into a glass, lukewarm liquid as she rested her head on the counter bent in half at the waist. Sweat and paint coated her legs as stripes appeared in the hazy melt that had started hours ago.

She didn't have her father's claws with venom, nor his sharp teeth to sink in like the stories often called her kind to have. Barbaric creatures, half morphed into feral things, at least that was how they were depicted. Too much animal, not enough man. Confused instincts and no morals or reasoning to speak of.

Bull shit. Utter bull shit.

Her father had been insane, but he hadn't killed anyone he hadn't been assigned to. Her mother made sure of it. She loved him like that in the beginning, keeping his hands clean of death unless necessary. He loved her with unbridled devotion and care, always at her hip like another weapon she could use. Her mother's fond smile as she told her over and over as a child at her request just how silly her father had been when they first met. His attempts at flirting and knocking over garbage cans, almost ending up in a few. Tal was such an idiot for Mira, always had been.

Tal wasn't a monster. He'd died a father, a husband in all ways, but on paper, he died loyal to the Family that defaced him. The family that had surrendered his body to a snake that sat coiled in their homes. Loyalty was dead and it was all her business.

Lifting herself from the prostrated position, she opened the fridge and stood in the blue glow, cooling off before grabbing some ice cubes to add to her glass. The cold bite nipped at her fingertips.

If The King knew then it explained everything: the silence and how he treated her all this time. Using her, corralling her good nature, playing with her like a dead mouse he wanted to make run again. Every good thing, every line of defense was either him seeing his Doe or his games. He enjoyed toying with people; why wouldn't he use her like he had planned to use Reagan? Everything had been a lie if he knew... But she couldn't be sure of that. And even if he had known, he wasn't his father.

And there was still Dahlia's time with the Shoenheit Family under Lady Galatea's years. Her mother's home that she knew nothing about. The family that had raised her and taught her mother how to hone her skills as a child. The same skills she now had and had improved upon. She owed the Mafia her life for equipping her second handedly through Mira's love to survive.

Funny how the very thing The King's father hadn't wanted was rooted in their system, her survival. But she also owed them nothing for letting her uncle sell her and other expletives, hoping she'd die, encouraging the notion as her fate.

Ten years of her life snatched and sold... nine years of an unorthodox childhood made into a boot camp by a paranoid mother in grief over losing her beloved, and then whoring herself to her future murderer to keep her daughter safe. That same killer tormenting her with eyeballs in stew he made and trying to get her to try fingers instead of fries. He wanted to make her into a monster... Her mother had tried to spare her. Her family had sold her blood, bone and flesh. And the world had left her to become what Dahlia was. He was counting on it.

Shaking her glass, the clink of ice broke her spiral as she pressed it to her cheek, sighing as her thoughts steadied.

Too dark. She wouldn't find answers anytime soon.

After all, the Mafia weren't big sharers. But they were marvelous at keeping secrets. At least she could count on that.

After all, The King wasn't his father; that was probably the one thing she was sure of. And if they knew already...

Well she wasn't dead.

And there was no record of Administrator leaving.

There went sleep tonight.

Language detected: Russian

Боже мой, вы все здесь! - My gods, you're all here!

Дафна - Daphne!

“Everything. She was a victim and apparently, her uncle pimped her out across the world for some reason as a teen. Even had his way with her until she was eighteen according to the police report where she talked about it back then, but the court cases were seen to not have enough evidence. All of it was thrown. And now the papers, the latest, she was being trafficked until last year still, in that system the Desmond's used. There are countless mentions of her under a three-letter code someone at the precinct figured out. Officer Bellamy I believe, he released the information for study but someone hacked the system and made it public."

"Oh my ...."

"I know. It's disgusting. There are photographs and recordings too. Look at this list a reporter put together. No one is safe from the world's lens, not even Mort."

"Ew, put that away. I feel sorry for her, I pity her. I can't imagine how terrified she must be all the time. Being left to the wolves like that and then getting away. She did get away right?"

"Well obviously, she's here and thriving. She must really be magic in the sheets. I wish she'd give us all pointers instead of playing innocent like she's dense in bedroom play.”

“Well she is a victim, and I don't believe she is playing innocent. She's shown enough times that she's perfectly capable in her blog to get intimate. Maybe the act of intimacy itself is hard for her? She has hinted at several instances where she could have taken things there, but didn't. After all— for all intensive purposes— being a high-end courtesan to the elite had to be triggering. Can't imagine what they paid her uncle for, to do to her themselves.”

“Honey, have you read her blog? This woman has endured more than most women can and stayed sane through it. With Dahlia tailing her, the horrors he's done to her, and other odd things no doubt we know nothing about from this past year, she's a survivor trying to escape from some very big fish. This is probably nothing to her.”

“Thank the Sevens for The Justice Papers then coming out and giving her case validity after all these years, even if her information was leaked.”

“Yeah, in more ways than one. Mort's coverage on the papers and her blog on the Mafia, along with her travel pieces, are single-handedly keeping The Tact floating right now. She's a golden goose, the captain at the helm, and she's carrying it all, creating new structures and programs from ashes.”

“I heard one of the board members tried to get her on the board. Is that true?”

“It's a rumor, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's real. They're trying to save face.”

“Well I hope it sinks and then Mort can find a better job, somewhere she's appreciated.”

“Didn't you hear? Someone bought out all the stocks during the crash in March. They have to be insane. The company is worth nothing now.”

“Poor fool probably got hoodwinked.”

“No doubt.”

Overhearing the women talk about her best friend was hard, hearing them discuss her private affairs was harder. But she had promised Amaris to do better, be better at not flying off the handle, speaking before considering her words. It was turning out to be a chore she hated.

“You look lovely in that Miss Daphne.” Her regular attendant for this particular shop smiled as the pink dove twirled in the mirror. Shimmering gossamer refracted blends of iridescent pearl pink light as the fabric caught the rays of sunshine on her curves. Golden hair splayed around her shoulders.

A gift to herself, since treatment had been going well. Well, as well as one with cancer could manage. Her body had been rejecting treatments, putting on more weight with the meds and radiation making her hate how she looked. Each curve now was settled just a bit more than she'd like, and her old wardrobe was funneled off to different thrift shops in the area to help fund projects for the local community. A new wardrobe was being purchased in the only therapy she knew, shopping.

Nothing was working anymore, even Amaris’s blood transfusions were beginning to waver after all these years and that alone told her soon she'd be counting seconds and not days very soon. Her body was collapsing in on itself and she didn't know what precious time she had left.

But she still hoped, still wanted to stay here and live. There was a world outside waiting to be discovered. People to love and laugh with, places that would make her cry from the beauty. More dresses and shoes to wear. More hearts to embrace and men to kiss. Maybe she'd give women a try? Why not, after all she was a dead girl walking, might as well try everything on the menu. She was a lover at heart and believed everyone deserved to be loved, to have it if they wanted it. Even as she embraced the sands of time to stop fretting as they passed through her fingers that cut her time shorter and shorter. She'd live unapologetically till the day her heart stopped. Love with everything she had.

The world was far too cold and distant. Everyone was wasting precious time. Why waste years when one isn't promised them? For what, assurance?

She couldn't understand those that sat by and waited for it. Amaris was sitting on her hands when she should be kissing a Mafia boy like the stars would burn out. After all, neither she nor her friend had time… she didn't know what her family would do to Amaris after she was gone. Or if Amaris could live after having her body torn apart. Could one live without vital organs? A picture that made her pale flashed across her mind and she wanted to scream. No. She wouldn't let Amaris be a vegetable, a body in a bed to harvest from.

And what of Ruggie? Surely sooner or later age would catch him and he'd end up dead or worse, trapped and unable to be free because of unforeseen circumstances. He could get shot! Life didn't play favorites. Money wasn't happiness, but it did help make things easier. She was very aware of that fact. But that didn't make it worth the price. He was wasting time when he could be in Morocco.

Her hands brushed at spots hidden beneath the slinky dress, puckered scars where organs were taken and replaced like candy bars in a checkout aisle. There were only so many rh-null bodies on earth, fewer willing to sell organs for cash. Few yet in her age range.

She had to think of something to hide Amaris, free her, but how? She wasn't a human being, not under law nor science. Humanity wasn't gentle with things it didn't understand, it destroyed them. And it wasn't like she could find proof that she was the exception to the rule...

The world didn't care about Amaris.

Across the street a few couples walked and she had to rub her eyes, swearing she saw pink hair. This was up-town, dyed hair wasn't exactly the norm. Glancing again she noted it was a feathered head piece. Maybe there was a film shooting nearby?

Shaking her head Daphne rolls a diamond earring between her fingers looking at the mirror once more.

“I'll take it.” Her honey eye slid to the black-clad woman with a name tag. “Pack it for me? And don't forget the other things for Amaris. Her birthday is going to be good this year. I'm making sure of it.” The memory of opening that box—seeing the skull of Amaris’s father— crumbling on the paper was still carved into her mind. She despised Dahlia, but what could she do? Money was worthless against blood and bone. If hiring someone worked, Dahlia would be gone by now …

Stepping back into the changing room she hands in the pieces she'd rejected, pinks and baby blue, a few whites and some sunny yellows with minty accents.

Bright colors were her armor, and her shoes were her sword. And she wielded them with the same precision her best friend wielded her pen and lipstick.

The saying was true; give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.

Stepping out, she brought the dress to the counter, soft pink a-line skirt cradling her legs that wore those diamond studded heels still. She settled the slinky fabric along with the shape wear to go beneath as the lady servicing her smiled and made small talk with the blonde. Each purchase coated in tissue paper and boxed with care, taped shut. Those for Amaris were tied with ribbons in deep sapphire, it seems they had read her account preferences, probably had Amaris's name on file since she talked about her so much.

Too bad she couldn't buy what would change lives.

“Oh sir, we take returns at this desk.”

She pulled her pink-cased phone from her coach purse that was hot pink, the shell a rather hardy one, as she popped a hip. Nails tapping away she scrolled and wrote a few lines for a piece on the latest TV show that claimed to be a paradise for love. She adored it, but seeing the same roles play out over and over made her sad. Why play games with so many? Why not just decide to be a poly? Clearly, they were all attracted to each other. She never understood monogamy. Love could be shared, not just possessed as long as everyone communicated and was respectful. Hell, she did it.

Her boys, her perfect and handsome men, flashed through her mind as she side-stepped a rather tall man who stood to her right, scanning a message from Des who was currently organizing her desk like a good intern. Maybe she should get him something… nah.

“Pardon me,” The man says and her fingers pause. Gilded nails arc for the glass as her screen goes back and she sees his face behind her.

Teal hair, with the striking back streak, swept back from mismatched eyes. She knew which pair belonged to which twin, memorizing that months ago. Well-matched and layered clothes impeccable and clean. Face carved like an Adonis statue in Rome with how he watched her from that little back box. His under profile was attractive too?! She gasped and looked back at him, heel slamming on his toe before her back met some part of him she couldn't name because her heart was in her skull and her brain had turned off in favor of the heat she felt running down her spine.

She was a deer in headlights as he shone her with a smile, head tilted, wincing.

Jade Leech.

Crap her heel was on his toe. Move Daph.

“Sorry!” She exclaims and turns retreating a few steps away apologizing profusely in Russian with pink cheeks and busy hands that rolled her phone. “Is it broken? I can call an ambulance. I'm so sorry!”

"You certainly do make an entrance, mi cara*." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Did your friend teach you this as well?” Those words made her rather sheepish as she watched him move his dark Italian leather shoes a bit before returning that dual gaze to her.

She got the color right for her ribbons.

“No-I mean- she could have, it's been so long-” she pauses, closing her mouth and turning away. “No, no, I won't be made a fool again by you.”

It was his turn to blink at her, how dare he act so innocent. “As you wish. I simply wished to say hello.”

She couldn't see his face, but the flash of fabric on his arm made her pause and look back just a smidge. The glossy fabric has her all but swooning. Maria had taste. Or maybe it was one of his other friends.

“It's pretty.” Her voice, crippled in shyness, dares to open the door between them again. “Maria's?”

“It failed to meet her expectations." His fingers smoothed over the fabric. "A tragedy, really. Fancy meeting you, I expected a dull afternoon, not one with lovely company.” His fingers caress and edge and her eyes track them like a biscuit for a hound. All of her self-built hatred was crumbling, gods she hated how easy she caved for a handsome face.

How much she wanted to lick his fingers and have them at her lips, keeping her in check while he did other things to her. This was hell. And his name was Jade.

“Would you be available to help me find something for her to replace it? I'm still learning about fabrics, and you always seem to mesmerize the room with color.” His head tilted, no doubt studying her as she twitched like a crack addict. Is this what Bellamy felt like next to Amaris? No wonder the idiot was so stupid. She couldn't blame the guy either way.

“Sure.” She wanted to scream at her weak will. She had six men, six! Why was he able to just wrap her around his finger…

Amaris was gonna kill her.

“Excellent.” He lays the dress on the counter and extends a hand behind her like a gentleman would in letting a lady lead the way. “Then I shall rely on your expertise.”

Flushed crimson a hand flies to her heart as her previous shopping partner gives her a thumbs up as she set her large purchase aside to be picked up when she and Jade were finished.

“Oh, you shouldn't give me so much credit, really, I just dabble here and there.” She babbles as she starts pulling fabric squares from a rack. “We should start with fabric, then what dress cut she likes. I know I met her before but I feel so bad. I was really sick you see, and I don't remember anything from her helping me. Oh, I'm terrible, I know, who forgets someone who helps another, but maybe this will make it better?”

Pink infused glitter nails hold up some textiles for him. “Silk, cotton, linen, the list is endless really. Does she have a favorite?”

“If you wish to make this an apology gift then you should pick the fabric, yes?” He says from the couch before her having sat down to watch her flit about the show room, that familiar smile, pleasant enough to soothe and unsettling enough to make her wonder what he was thinking. She almost lost air for the sake of paying to keep it.

“I suppose so.” She fingers the fabrics looking them over carefully. “Every woman deserves to feel like a princess at least once in her life.”

He doesn't answer, just smiles, watching her as she talks to herself, admiring patterns and threads before moving on to a cut that she was sure would flatter every body type.

“This is similar to what I got Amaris the first time I bought her something. The universal secret weapon of every woman's closet. You will always feel like a million bucks and look spectacular.” She brings over the dress holding it up for him.

“Do you always choose based on what looks best on another?”

“Of course. My preference doesn't matter, it's not like Maria is wearing this for me.” She explains hanging the expensive gown in view for him. “That is a whole other story and dress.”

“Show me that one,” She could hear the amusement. Shivers running up her neck and scalp as such a tone. Dangerous thoughts purred in her mind. “If you wouldn't mind.”

“What I would pick?” She points to herself and he nods. “But…”

“You do not have to, I was simply curious how you would dress a partner if given the chance.”

Huffing at his clear guilt trip she doesn't stop her hands from reaching into a pile of fabrics. Yeah, she was walking right into this one. She didn't want to be saved. Gods she'd need a drink later, Mafia were so out of her league to mentally spar with.

Amaris would kill her and then bring her back just to do it again. Fuck this was bad, what kind of cuckolded madness was this? Her picking a dress for his lesbian lover.

She smiles as she finds what she was looking for. “I don't know anything about her beyond what Amaris told me. Pink hair, midwife clothes, Italian roots like you.” She fired off trying to bring some sense of intelligence to the conversation. He had to be so bored listening to her rattle on about clothes.

“She said Maria liked using the saints names so I would infer she has a faith, or at least regards herself with it, so maybe cream? Not for purity, but because Italy is hot and the churches are cold if I remember right. Stone and stained glass. The light color would travel well too in other parts of Europe and the sea side. She should have her knees, shoulders and chest covered according to some signs I saw when visiting Italy… so maybe a veil of some sort around her shoulders? Veil isn't the right word… oh, I'm sorry, my English is still a work in progress.”

He rose, joining her in admiring the dress she had chosen. “You have been to Italy?”

“Yes, though not the countryside. Just the main cities. The doctors are quite good, and the sea is…” She paused when his fingers brushed hers, buffering in real time as she screamed internally. His hands were soft, a man with soft hands was unheard of and he clearly took care of them by how he rubbed the fabric between his fingers. She wanted to bite them, lovingly, it was unfair he looked so yummy everywhere all the damn time.

“The sea?” Those eyes of cerulean sea moss and light house glow meet her honeyed ones. She wanted to be a puddle on the floor, melt for him into a gooey mess to play with. Fuck she was screwed and he wasn't single which made things worse, so much worse. “Most people remember the food.”

She didn't do attached men, she didn't do men who had side chicks. She was fiercely jealous unlike Amaris who would just shrug and cut a guy off with no revenge. Something about knowing one's value... She wished she could be so easy going, but she loved hard and when that broke …

“Yes,” she lets the dress go, hands retreating to her heart. “This is what I would choose. It just needs a… veil? And yes the food is delicious, like the pasta and rich sauces without all the additives, but there's something about the water.”

“Shawl I believe is the word you are looking for.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Yes, yes, that's it. Shawl.” Her arms lift to do the motion of putting on such a piece. “Maybe something embroidered with something she likes? I can do it but I have no idea what her taste is.”

“You sew as well. My you are quite gifted.” He tugs a scarf, long and sheer from a display dropping it over the gown. “How does this look? Is it too little? I'm partial to linen, it's a finer weave.”

“It's perfect.” Her fingers adjust the scarf to lay as it would for modest dress, perfect for a church. “And she could wear it anywhere really. The color is stunning. I just wish I knew her jewelry preferences. She needs something to go with it.” She taps her rose painted lips, scanning a jewelry table as she starts picking pieces and setting them in the fabrics he held. “Speaking of, if I gave you a gift for Mrs Moon could you find a way to make sure it reaches her for her baby shower?”

Jade, much to her amusement, followed her around as she piled on assorted metals and gems, pearls and stone babbling about complexion and coloring, asking him questions that weren't really questions but trying to chop her nerves off at the roots for fear she would grow far too comfortable with the Mafia member.

“You seem remarkably invested in making Maria happy. Anyone really.”

“Ofcourse. You asked for my help and I will give you my best effort.” She clicks her tongue and pulls a few sets off and grabs a box to set some platinum moon shaped earrings with a blue stones and a simple necklace. “This is for Mrs. Moon. Someone needs to look after the mom and get her something nice that won't make her feel fat. I can add a receipt so she can return it and get something else if she dislikes it."

She couldn't tell if he'd frozen or just was processing, either way he accepted the box with little delay after a moment. “You are very generous. When choosing a gift, do you generally prioritize usefulness or sentiment?”

“Why not both, that's what makes a gift so good after all. One must be able to use something and also be able to see the sentimentality in it. Otherwise it's worthless.”

By the time they finish and make it back to the front with the dress and all of its many elements she swipes her card and has it packaged specifically with Maria’s hair in mind. A white box with a hot pink ribbon tied in a perfect bow.

She goes to hand him the gift and sees he was already carrying every single bag she had her purchases tucked away in.

“Oh, you don't have to do that. I can call someone.” She holds his box tightly twittering over in those shiny heels that put glass to shame.

“Consider it my payment, Azul makes a fuss if we are in debt to anyone.” His lips go up again and she can't help how her shoulders rise in bashful flattery at his next sentence. “Though it's my pleasure to assist you mi diamante*.”

“I'll drive you to where you'd like as further payment then. Those bags are heavy, I know what I bought.” She plays with her hair, undecided on tucking a few strands or leaving them. “I'm trading in today, so I hope you don't mind coming along. I could always use a second pair of eyes with the dealerships.”

His brow rose and she hoped he didn't find her shallow. Amaris was like him, in a way, and she knew her friend hated going to the dealerships with her. Something about mindless prattle and obvious kiss assery for the sale.

She quite enjoyed it, she loved the attention and feeling taken care of. Some of her best interactions were with such places specifically for that. They were being paid to be charming, and she had money to fork over. After all, she couldn't build with the time she had, so she had to buy it all or miss out. And she hated missing out.

“I would enjoy accompanying you.” He bows a bit, arm shifting and she quickly waves for him to stop, eyes wide in fond adoration. How the hell did he end up with a lesbian? How lucky was Maria to have such a man. He was perfect.

“Please don't bow unless you want to actually, I can't imagine how your back feels at the end of the day, being so tall. Save your spine the effort, for my empathy, if not your own sake.” She leads for a moment moving to get the door before his hand slides against the brass bar to her own, body bracketing hers just enough to register the heat from him. She about blacks out in a swoon for a breath before stepping into the sun.

Maria had to be a saint like Mrs. Moon. They had to be of the same pantheon. It was the only explanation for such men to be so perfect. She was going to cry into a silk pillow case tonight no doubt.

Caught in the golden afternoon she blinks shielding her eyes with a hand, Maria's gift tucked safely against her chest as she watches him hold the door for some elderly ladies who thanked him rather boldly for holding the door for them.

“Are you always like this?” She flushed, balking as he turned to her, falling into step side by side. Of course, he took the street side, mindful of traffic. No man she'd met in the city had known that was etiquette and she was giddy with joy at being treated like a lady. Like something precious.

“Like what?” He counters and she huffs adjusting a bag on his arm that was sagging and cutting into his elbow.

“You are so well-mannered, composed, articulate, and charming in a genteel manner. If it's the mask you wear then… I wish you wouldn't wear it with me. Not unless it's real.” She rolled her lips into her teeth, gnawing on them as her heart spilled out far too easily.

It's silent for a time. Something she knew well with Amaris, it was how thinkers processed, needing space and time to conclude things. Did he like puzzles? He seemed the type to like what was interesting or different and he did say he preferred surprises. How could she be better at that? She'd need to ask Amaris tomorrow about it at work. She'd never dared to talk to, let alone consider, an intelligent type. They usually found her boring and rather plain-minded. But he was here, and he had been showing interest… right?

“In our interview, do you recall what I said about my qualities?” He starts, looking to her face as she frowns and shakes her head, trying to recall the moment

“No, I don't. I'm sorry…”

“There's no need to apologize. I can remember for us both.” His words struck her, no one had ever offered to remember for her. To see any memory worth keeping as precious enough to recall openly, to say he would just made her fall harder for the man beside her. Fuck, so his was polite intelligence, it was subtle and no wonder Amaris had so many marriage proposals herself. Too bad slow and steady was choking her clock.

She wished she had more time to just know him… he seemed worth it.

“I spoke of being pleasant and how it benefitted not just me, but those I interacted with. It's a quality I possess,” He explains. “So you can rest assured my behavior isn't an act. It is beneficial, but not untrue.”

Daphne let his words marinate in her ears, he really was so good at calming her worries. She had known it straight from the second he spoke to her, called her a funny name. He was gentle with her and all she wanted to do was climb him like a tree. Maybe this was what grounded heat felt like?

He wasn't wild like Roberto, or overbearing like Alejandro. And he was far from demanding as Miguel was of her time. Even Brutus and Denny sat behind him in terms of eloquence and stability. He made her heart quiet, not race like so many others. She was hot and bothered, sure, but not like she'd known with Alphonso. Jade was a peace she felt like he had a medicine in his presence she'd been looking for all her life. They had tried but in the end all her boys couldn't handle the weight of her fate. So they ignored it.

Something told her Jade wouldn't, if he liked her enough.

But was it fair to let him in when she could die?

Did she care? A part of her wanted to be selfish and just try to buy him, it had worked with her other boys. Everyone was happy after all. Everyone had a price somewhere and money was its own form of love.

But the other part of her shrank at the idea. She wasn't going to be that way with him. He deserved her best if he gave her his. So she bit her tongue and swallowed her inner harlot.

“I thought you would have shown up at the auction night.” She starts changing topics, clearly rattled a bit by his honesty. She loved it.

“I did, many did in fact.” Her head snaps over.

“What! No, you guys did not. I was at the door.”

“And very distracted.”

“You can't be serious. What were you hiding as?” Vexed and eager her steps quickened into shorter ones besides his strides.

“I was a waiter. Tell me, does your teacher have bad eyes, is it sensitivity to light or the flashes?”

“She hates cameras for that reason mostly. The bright flash— hey! I shouldn't be telling you this. If you hurt her …” The comical visage of a five-foot woman pointing rather venomously at a six-foot-something man was a vision of hilarity. Several people pause to watch the woman fire off in Russian, not having a clue that she was indeed telling him in detail just how fucked he would be if he— or any of them— dared to harm Amaris.

“You give me far too little credit.” He smiles again, and she wants to shake him for being so damn attractive and not terrified of her temper. If he compared her to a Chihuahua she would summon lightning to fry his seafood ass. “Though your loyalty is noted and your method of rage is recognized. I do believe we had the wrong idea about which of you was the Spitfire.”

She continues walking, taking a few bags seeing his arms drop just a bit from the weight. She didn't want to wear him down, especially since he clearly was working, or something. She'd never forgive herself if his arms were too tired from helping her to do his job well. Amaris had drilled some level of self-awareness into her after all these years. There were too many bodies in those years to be blind to the privilege she had been born into. She needed to care about her impact on others, or else she would be just the same as those who hurt Amaris. Worse.

“No. I just have a temper. Someone has to bark at the rats at her back. It's the least I can do. She's more cunning, I'm more explosive.”

His eyes slide to her, catching some light to make them two-toned gems. Fucking hell she wanted him to look at her naked, to see them travel over her figure. “Interesting, you know her well then?”

“Better than most. One just has to pay close attention and she's not so complicated. She's a writer at heart, loves creating pieces for people to read and disappear into. She simply did that in her blog. Lots of red-fish but hey, she loves Agatha Christie when she is not reading smut.”

“Red-fish?” He chuckles and all she wanted to do was hide, face dark in embarrassment. What she witnessed though was Jade's brow lowering, that familiar crease settled between his brows, one she could never quite decipher on Amaris, nor him apparently.

“I don't know the term.” She confesses fingers tugging at the ribbon on Maria's gift.

“Red-herring. It's when the author deliberately misleads the reader in one or several directions in order to keep the true secret to the mystery hidden. At least that is what I recall from my school years.”

“Red-herring.” Daphne sighs, face hot from everything but the sun by now. “I'm so embarrassed …you must think I'm a fool.”

"You place a great deal of weight on small mistakes.”

“Small mistakes add up. It's important to be aware of where one is weak, or else you'll get taken advantage of.”

“Another Amaris idiom?”

“Probably.” She shrugs. “She's been by my side for a while now. It all blends together. Becomes a part of you, as she talks about. Changing constantly and becoming better.”

“Ah, yes, I recall you giving love advice. Love doesn't hurt you, a person who doesn't know how to love does.” He recited, making her gawk at him.

“You memorized my words?” She huffs, pouting a bit as they reach the dealership. He simply continues forward leaving her to catch up. It was a luxury brand that specialized in custom orders and trade-ins. It smelled like money and leather the moment they stepped in.

“Miss Daphne, how good to have you back.” A stout man in a pinstripe suit strides over hugging the curvy blonde as she laughs.

“Hello Gregory. Do you have my car for me?” She teases and the man waves a finger at her.

“For you Miss Daphne I will give you the world-” His eyes travel to Jade looming at her shoulder like a silent sentinel. “I see you brought a friend. Is Miss Amaris busy today?”

Slipping into her work mode she began dissecting Gregory's posture and tone. Mostly tone still, she couldn't read people's bodies very well unless it was obvious or something she had trained herself to see. Sadly she was not Amaris.

Gregory was afraid of Jade, no doubt recognizing him as she knew he watched the interviews. Time to make a good impression.

“Oh, this is Jade.” She extends a hand to motion to the tall eel beside her with a kind smile. “We happened upon each other earlier and I invited him along with me. I hope that's alright.” Not a question, a statement. She knew how to get her way. She was born and raised to have everything, and she has been taught how to come across as deserving of it all.

“Yes, yes it's quite alright.” Gregory quickly recovers and reaches to shake Jade's hand and then notices the bags. “Ah, my apologies. But please, do sit. It must be scorching out there today and you both are dressed so nicely.”

“Your kindness is appreciated.” Comes from over her shoulder as she sets her bags down with Maria's package at a chair and goes to get her and Jade some water.

This was good, maybe she could help make connections for Jade's family, create a bond? The idea made her giddy. The Ashengrotto Family likes deals so why not help? Surely it couldn't hurt to show Jade she could make an impact.

Returning she found Gregory quite pale and retyping her contract for her trade-in as Jade lounged in a chair that could hardly fit him. The men looked to be polar opposites, the tall one at ease and rather satisfied for some reason, and poor Gregory looked ready to dig his grave and lay in it willingly.

What had she missed?

"Is everything alright?" She pokes the space.

“Just retyping Miss Daphne. Mr. Leech here found a few errors and I'm so embarrassed to have missed them.” Gregory shakes as his fingers clatter on the keys and she frowns walking over to Jade handing him his water.

"Mistakes? But I wrote it, I made the contract.” Deep amber irises find his mismatched ones. “What did you find Jade?” The sugary tone was a performative one, a classic she weaponized often.

He sits forward a bit, hands closing around the glass, holding her gaze, interested maybe. “It was a fine deal, but you were overpaying, I assumed someone had tried to steal what was yours.”

Ah, that made sense. He didn't know how she did business. It was adorable how protective he was.

“I overpay because Gregory has three kids that he pays child support for. The extra money is his for refilling the account his ex wife has him put money into for them. I give him the price up front and additional for taxes. That way he can study nights and go to college online without going bankrupt. And be able to get a court order to let him see his children.” She takes a sip, not amused he probably intimidated her favorite car salesman.

Those eyes widen a fraction. “I see.”

Gregory turns the screen to her. “Is this okay Miss Daphne?”

Turning away her fingers trace the screen changing things here and there, muttering numbers beneath her breath before nodding as she signs with her finger. “Perfect as always.”

“Wonderful. Now let me show you to your new car. It has the latest specs you requested and more.” The stout man stood, adjusting his suit before leading them across the polished marble floors and out into a private lot where their most expensive cars were kept safely hidden and secure.

He pops the door open on the pearly white car, almost iridescent in reflection off the wax. The door rose above his head and inside the screen flickered to life with pink ambient lighting everywhere. It read: Welcome Daphne. “I took the liberty of getting the specs you prefer installed since you're such a loyal customer.”

She peers inside and squeals, heels bright with joy as her face reflects the glow all too well. “Oh it's perfect Gregory. Thank you so much.” She hugs the man with a little hop and he chuckles patting her back.

“Anytime Miss Daphne. Though I would like to know if Miss Amaris is finally with her mon rêve. Summers are made for romance.” He pulls away and she laughs.

“You know how she is, very busy. I believe she's in Morocco currently. She got asked to write a piece on some horseback experiences. Be in a few desert videos to promote tourists to come visit. I think she's staying with a friend.”

“What a fun time then. Is her mon rêve with her? Do tell me she's with him now, it's been what? Almost seven or so months? Longer? A year maybe?” Gregory pulls his tablet with her contract and she slides her card sealing the payment.

“Sadly no, she'll be back in July, maybe August, she has a few more places this summer that demanded her personally despite her trying to get the interns in, and no they aren't together yet. It's frankly annoying. I just don't get why she's sticking around for a guy that is so slow. She doesn't have forever, none of us do.” She hisses, closing her purse. “She never just sits and waits so he better know how special he is to make an all gas no brakes girl like her heel.”

“I think that much is clear to everyone who reads her blog. She is quite the accomplished young woman. Such a shame she's single.”

“Don't let her hear you. She may write about it.” They laugh and she looks over at Jade noting how he seemed quieter. Her fingers brushed his arm, checking in as Gregory gave her the run down of her new car.

“Are you alright?” She whispers seeing his brow tucked just ever so slightly, thank god Amaris had drilled basic kinetics into her brain.

He didn't answer, instead he motioned to the car. “I don't believe there is enough leg room.” And just like that she mellowed from the Twitter of life and looked back inside playing with the seat controls to see if she indeed needed a different car.

“Thank you for catching that. I have a hard time registering what isn't obvious to me. Well, except for love but what can one do?” She sighs and moves a bit to the side so he could see if it was enough.

“You asked for my assistance, I'm simply doing so.” His voice settled into a framed cover and once more she had Amaris to thank for recognition of such a subtle cue. She couldn't name it, per se, only that his usual ease felt slightly restrained.

“Jade, I can get a different car.”

“An odd thing to say to a man you may never have in your vehicle again.”

“No it's not, it's being kind. And you shouldn't have to put up with less simply because of what I desire.” She argues before her shoulders drop realizing the argument was silly. It was a car for crying out loud. “Besides… I need to be better about considering others in all areas. This is good practice.”

“From what I've seen, consideration isn't something you lack.” She about tripped her way into the car.

They pulled out of the lot in a different car that had Jade far more comfortable, bags tucked away, Maria's box settled in the back like a cherished treasure as Jade took the passenger seat. She waited for thirty seconds before resting her truth at his feet while he pointed where to turn to reach his destination.

“Listen.” She starts in the soft glow of the screen as the day wound down to late afternoon. “I love you, a lot. But you're dating Maria and it's clearly complicated. She's your person and I would never step on that. But I won't not say anything to you. Because clearly you are sending me messages you like me back, and I've learned that if a smart person starts acting like they want you, you listen because they have already gone through all the reasons why it's a bad idea and decided it was a good one. So there. I'm falling deeper in love with you than I already have.”

She continues, hand tight on the wheel as he stills, vaguely directing now instead of more focused as before. The screen light cast him in a blue lighted shadow, it suited him in an odd way, like glowing was a part of what has been missing from his appearance before. Maybe it was his mer-nature she was noticing?

“A logical conclusion, given your way of thinking.” He added briefly and she flushed.

“I move fast, I always have. I make Amaris look slow by comparison. I'm bold with affection and I don't apologize for loving, I'm loud and live life passionately. I don't have time to be subtle. I'm dying and I don't have a lot of time to play with.” She paused, swallowing a bit as her mouth dried from anxiety. “I have cancer and nothing can be done in my case. Just prolonged care, which has been my life since I was a little girl.” She looks over, glancing to check his expression but the honk of a car in the opposite lane brings her eyes back to the road. A fire truck screams by and several police cars follow with an ambulance. She said a quick prayer before glancing at him again.

“I can see this isn't something you disclose lightly, or regularly.” His voice bled with what she hoped was sincerity.

“I'm not saying this to pressure you or scare you. I don't even need an answer right now, though it would be nice to have it. I just wanted you, Maria and your coven of ladies to be able to talk and discuss this stuff. It's heavy, and there is no for-sure cure for blood cancer at my stage with my needs and limits.”

She lets out a shaky sigh, telling people was never easy for her, never quite something she got used to.

“So I get if you are upset with how I was in the dealership. It was childish to be so bothered by Amaris’s love life. I just hate watching people love and never get anything from it. It's wasting time, precious time. I'm done now.” She adds and lets silence return. No radio to crowd the space, she lets what she dropped linger in his lap, let's him digest it.

“I see.”

Something in his expression settled before he asked her to pull over, a side street near what had to be a territory marker of some sort. She didn't care about that though, she cared that he heard her and had all the pieces to make his own choice. She could only ask him to be as honest when he was ready, if he wanted more from her.

When he shuts the door and leans down to the window she gives him a smile. “Be safe. And no rush but rush… as soon as you know your answer just get it to me. I don't care how. I just don't want to be waiting when I could spend my time elsewhere. Expiring clock and all."

He bows his head, hair sliding into his face before he draws it back with a large hand. “I will do my best to do so. Thank you for telling me this, it's been very informative.”

“I hope it fills in some gaps.” She taps her keys that had plenty of charms hanging off them. “I personally hate being blind in a situation I need to see clearly in. And I would never try to trick you Jade. I decided, when I came here to this country, I would leave that world behind. I want to be a good woman and love hard with what I have left. But that doesn't mean you have to be a part of that.”

“I can see why you move the way you do..” That smile was back and she wanted to kiss him as he held out a hand to her and she easily gave him her small one. Her pink glitter acrylics sparkling against his skin as he leaned down to kiss the back. “Good night piccola guerriera*."

And just like that she was reminded of a world that she missed. Fine gentlemen in suits, polite manners and crystal table settings, live music playing and of course the fated kiss to the hand on arrival and departure. She missed Russia so much, sometimes it felt like a part of her was gone and she didn't know if she'd get it back. Yet, here was Jade. Giving her a moment she had forgotten meant everything to her.

She wanted to grab him by the collar and figure out how to close that height gap, car or no car. A vehicle would not dissuade her. That would be her favorite problem …along with sex but she was getting ahead of herself.

“Oh, Jade!” She calls after him from the window, the soft glow of the screen lighting her face for him to see. “Tell Maria if you both are interested, so am I. I’m polyamorous, you just have to be clear with me. And I've never been with a woman but if you like her I can try. Okay?”

His eyes glowing in a street light and he gives her a toothy grin, box under his arm. “I will be sure to tell her.”

She nods and puts her car in drive pulling away from the curb. “See you around!” She calls and once more the wind is the only thing that answers her as she makes her way home. To luxury counter tops and plush white couches clean of Des’s shoe stains.

She sets a hand in the passenger seat, the leather still warm as her eyes tear up.

Oh she hoped this didn't just all go up in flames. But she would move on, she had others …others she paid.

Acrylics turning on the radio with a tap the first thing that comes on is a news report of a female citizen visiting Morocco escaping a potential lethal stabbing.

She had never dialed Amaris’s number so fast. As she waited for her best friend to pick up one thought slipped across her mind.

Gods she hoped Jade and Maria were interested… otherwise she just made things awkward.

“You got played.“ Amaris giggles through the phone as Dove stands there with her mountain of bags the next day in the reporters apartment with an ear piece in. She tucks a few gifts into a corner and puts a few more on the couch where Des crashed. Rub it in his face a bit. “Oh dear sevens you got played and he was happy to let you set up the game.”

She paused half aware until it clicked that she was talking about her and Jade's outing. “What?!”

“He likes you.” She listened to her brunette friend's voice fill with what had to be amusement. “He likes you enough to let you decide something for Maria. Daphne he is flirting with you. Not to mention he asked you a lot of stuff.”

The blonde stands there mortified. Replaying the day as it became clear. Horror coats her expression. “Oh my God I bought a dress for his girlfriend and he thanked me for it! I took him home in my car! I confessed to him! I told him so much about me and I know nothing about him!”

Amaris is choking on laughter, bent over most likely in the most undignified position to date. “You are so innocent. Oh Daphne he really really likes you.”

“Then why doesn't he just say so! We could have made out! He could’ve called Maria and we could have had a threesome! He missed an opportunity!” She exclaims half pissed at being strung along again and half angry at the man for not capitalizing on his benefits. She could have had sex with two gorgeous souls that vexed her.

Shouting in Russian as her heels stomped across Amaris’s floor the whole room was covered in the reflection of diamonds, scattered like the pulse of a very angry Dove.

Oh how love was anything but simple.

Language detected: Italian

Mi cara - my dear

Mi Diamante - my diamond

Piccola guerriera - little warrior