the courtera story

(December 1894);

Alysa: *Her brother's door was gigantic. It loomed in front of her as she stood stock-still in just a nightgown, wrist tightly grasped in her own little hand. Cool air blew through the open window, trailing shivers up her spine as it brushed her short skirt against bare legs. There a guilty look on her face, fear in her brown eyes. She knew she shouldn't be awake. Mum had even read her two stories. And she didn't even know she and Malcolm had overheard! Well, maybe she did. 

Dad had hugged her extra tight too before she was ordered out of the room - and she didn't mean to overhear, she didn't! Liam had missed with his ball and hit her doll and then Rosie had scolded him even though Lysa really didn't blame him, she swore, and they were being so loud that she'd gone to find Malcolm to see if he could fix it and the ball had gone over their shoulders and when they went to get it back for Liam well...it kind of just happened. 

And now...she wished she could forget what Jezzie's dad had said. Malcolm hadn't said anything, so she thought she shouldn't either. It wasn't unusual that she didn't speak, so no one asked. Only when Mum put her in bed she couldn't close her eyes without picturing the terror described: flames and houses falling down and hearing the ghosts of screams an--* 

Malcolm! *Despite how large the door was, she was through it in an instant, arm tight around her stuffed animal dragon, eyes wide as they looked over top the fluffy tail. She was praying she didn't wake him up if he was already asleep...but he wasn't. Throat dry, she gaped a moment and then said in a meek voice,* I...I can't sleep.

Malcolm: *Malcolm had asked Mum whether Jezz and her family could stay forever with them. Mum had smiled, but Malcolm could tell it wasn't the same. He had said it was because he liked seeing Jezebel, but he had just said that because he didn't want Mum to worry, he was strong after all. Tossing and turning in bed, Malcolm gripped the hilt of his practice sword and held it on top of his chest. The edges were blunted so it didn't cut but Malcolm knew if he hit hard enough he could leave a mean bruise; he had already been reprimanded by his aunt Maeve for attacking Vlad with it (though Vlad had been yelled at too, and his ear pulled, so it was fair.) 

Malcolm pushed back the covers and sat up after tiring of counting the twinkling stars painted on his ceiling. What he had overheard with Alysa earlier seemed to come out of one of uncle Oliver's scary stories, but it wasn't. All those people were dead now....people like his mum, and Merida, and Jezebel and his friends- it wasn't fair. His eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as he wiped at them stubbornly.

 If they had found all those people, how long before they found about his mum and tried to do the same? Father wouldn't let that happen, a small voice spoke in his head, getting persistently louder and louder the more he thought it. I won't let that happen either, was another thought, though that one was never as loud as the others. Eventually, one thought always won out over the rest, one thought that kept him awake like he was right at that moment: what if they couldn't? 

His head snapped toward the door as it opened. Hearing his name, he thought the worse. They found us, he thought, gripping his sword tighter and jumping off the bed. His eyes widened as he saw it was only Alysa, and that aside from the mention of his name, the rest of the house was silent. No screaming, no fires...they were safe here. 

He lowered his sword again, looking apologetic at his little sister for having frightened her. He placed the sword on his night table and then moved to grab Alysa's hand* I can't sleep either. *He walked them back to his bed so they could sit on the edge, feet dangling under them. He put an arm around her shoulders and rocked them side to side.* Are you scared, Lys?

Alysa: *Imagining a moment an earth-shattering shudder as her brother hit the floor, Lysa shook too. Her heart pounding wildly in her ear like a baby bird flapping hard as it tried to take off, she didn't move. Only hugged her Adelie closer (so named for how she had pronounced Mum's name for years) and stared wide-eyed and silent. 

Malcolm wouldn't hurt her.

 Still she felt better when he put the sword down, and better yet when he took her hand - Lord, he had big hands! Silently still, she let him gather her against his side and chest, squishing her gown. Shifting only to make sure Adelie could breathe, she nodded rapidly, eyes red-rimmed.* 

I don't understand. Why..wh...what did Mr. Vane mean? Who would burn a village of magic people? Why? *Maybe someone should shift her. She couldn't breathe, just like Adelie, only she didn't have her nose and mouth crushed to her brother: they were wide, flaring and gaping in effort to swallow air. Only there was something stuck in her throat.*

Malcolm: *He hugged her tighter but only for a moment because then he worried about leaving her without breath, as she looked already as rattled as he felt. Dad told Malcolm that when Alysa was born, he was always mad, and jealous but every time Alysa cried in the middle of the night, Malcolm would be there and there would be no moving him away. 

Eventually the jealousy went away, but the protectiveness remained; Alysa was his little sister and he would keep her safe, and keep Liam and Rosie safe too, and their mum, and Merida and Jezebel and her father and her siblings. From the evil people that would hurt them just because of who they were, and they would hurt Malcolm too just because he loved them. Evil always hated love. That was why Milady de Winter killed Constance.* Do you remember when mum and dad told you that we should keep mum's magic secret?

Alysa: *Her big brother wasn't usually silent so long. Eyes round as saucers at the question she nodded rapidly - she knew, of course she remembered that, they repeated it every time they went to court. Her mouth went suddenly as wide and round as her eyes - and she sniffled.* Do you mea-- *she gasps*--no, but- but Mum hasn't hurt anyone!! They can't--they can't!

Malcolm: *Quickly and stubbornly, he talked again before Alysa started crying; he didn't want to be the reason his little sister cried.* They won't. *He felt much more sure of it saying it out loud to reassure Alysa than he ever did when he thought it to himself.* That's why we're careful, that's why we keep it a secret, and maybe one day we won't have to. *Mum was a much better witch than most of the ladies in court, and the lords too, and it wasn't fair that she didn't get to show it. But maybe one day she would, maybe one day no one would care. If only that day had come sooner, then all those people in that village wouldn't be dead.* Besides, if anyone ever tried to hurt mum they'd have to get through dad and uncle Oliver and aunt Leanne and uncle Andre and aunt Ellen, and Damocles and Maeve and Abira and Leah and me, and mum too of course! *he smiles and then pokes her nose before taking one of her dragon's wings and moving it* And we have Adelie to protect us too. And nothing ever scares a dragon.

Alysa: *Holding her brother's gaze fiercely, she was invariably calmed by how steady his voice was. And that...that was a lot of people, to have to go through. But there were a lot of people in that village too...she didn't get it! But she giggled suddenly as he took Adelie and nodded, rubbing under her nose.* I guess...and *adds petulantly* Mum's a dragon too. We all are. *She still didn't understand. Why would they want to kill anyone? Why did she get to have magic and Mum wasn't supposed to? Her eyes widened and she breathed out,* Wai--don't-- would they want to kill -us- too because Mum is -our- mother?! 

Malcolm: Yes we are *he nodded, the small smile still on his face as he remembered the day they had all decided what kind of dragons they would be. Rosie had chosen the Welsh Green of course, because green was her favorite color and they were more peaceful. Malcolm wanted to be a Hungarian Horntail obviously: the most dangerous breed of dragon in the entire world. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Alysa's question. He didn't want to lie to his sister, but he didn't want to upset her further. Truth was, he oftener wondered the same thing; whether or not evil and hate could sink that low. He supposed it could...they were children in that village too.* There are evil people in this world, Lys, who would do a matter of many horrible things, and whose reasons...well, they don't make sense at all. They're full of hate. *he frowns a moment before passing a hand through her hair* But in the end, good always triumphs over evil, and love always wins over hate. And that's what mum and dad do...they're fighting evil, and one day when we're old enough, we'll fight it too- we're fighting it even now just by talking about it, and saying we're not gonna let it win. *He rubs her shoulders, squeezing them once* They won't hurt mum, or you, or any of us. We're dragons. *roars and then pretends to breathe fire before tickling her sides*

Alysa: *It seemed whatever had settled in her chest had decided it was never going to move. But the more Malcolm talked, the more those gigantic hands of his squeezed her arm and petted her hair in comfort the more she seemed to be able to breathe through the block. She was only thrown off her wide-eyed quiet nodding (at Adelie too, for her brother was still wiggling her wing) when she squealed. First in laughter at his roar - and then in protest as he grabbed her, and whatever her fear and the wintry storm outside, it was all thrown out.* Malcolm!! *Throwing her hands down to try and peel her brother off her, giggling and gasping and hitting his side, in desperation she launched herself across her brother's bed for Adelie. Landing on her back, arms tight around the dragon she held her up against her face. Breathing into green-gold fluff, she squeaked her own roar out, adding,* Adelie help!! *Loudly, she was delighted as the trick worked; Dad made her fly every night around her bed for protection. And she was doing so now, only around Malcolm's face, tail whipping his hair.*

Malcolm: *He was laughing now too with his sister as she scrambled to get away from his tickling fingers, more focused on escaping than actually retaliating. As she lunged further in on his bed, he laughed again and made to follow her but instead he was met with a dragon attacking his face* Ah! No, Adelie! I'm innocent, I'm innocent I swear! *he playfully pleaded through laughs as he made sure not to actually hit the dragon as he swatted his hands through the air, he was grinning* I give, I give! 

Alysa: *Breathless with laughter and rubbing her tired eyes she perks up to her knees as he surrenders.* Ha! *She says it playfully, amazed she had bested her brother. Pleased, she holds up her hands saying happily,* Down, Adelie! *Nothing happens. Oh bother. Trying to remember what Dad said to have her stop, her whole face crinkles in concentration.* Adelieeee!! No, no stop! I don't know what I di- it's Dad's spell!! *She finally just makes a grab for her tail and pulls her into her arms, holding fast until the spell breaks. She throws her arms out, letting the dragon fall on her lap and echoes Gen with a wide grin,* Voila!! 

Malcolm: *He laughed even more as Alysa didn't manage to make her dragon stop, and had to physically restrain it from attacking him further. He grinned as the dragon tried to fly out of her arms until it stopped moving and then he laughed again and then clapped* Thank you, Lys! You saved me *he teases before leaning over to hug her*

Alysa: *At his words she beams, a wide toothy grin that showed the gap where she recently had lost one. Only a baby tooth though, she swore. Unfortunately Mum had said she couldn't get dragon fangs in it's place.* Always, brother. *Adelie lay forgotten a moment as she threw her arms around him too, eyes and nose screwed up tight.* Whatever happens, I'll protect you too, cause you're the best big brother anyone could ever ask for even if you can be annoying sometimes. *She nodded insistently against his chest.* The b--best. *That was cut off with a yawn, as she curled against him and kept her eyes shut.*

Malcolm: *he smiled and chuckled, a much softer sound than before and nodded.* You're the best too, sis. Love you. *He rocked her gently as she fell asleep. He tried to close her eyes too, but while he managed to calm Alysa enough to get her to sleep, he was still worried. After a while, he carefully moved out of his sister's hold, replacing himself with her plush dragon and then putting the covers over. Wiggling out of bed, he tip toed out of his room, careful not to wake her and walked the vast expanse of his house to where Jezebel and her family were staying. Peeking his head in Jezebel's room, he psst'ed, whispering* Jezebeell. Jezz?

Jezebel: *Laying on her belly in the alcove near the open window, she had her chin propped beneath her hands, scarlet strands of hair trapped in a tempest. Much as Malcolm's home was nice, she missed the constant presence of nature: the snow didn't bother her even as it littered the velvet carpet. She was very involved at that moment, counting the stars. It took her mind off everything. 

Allie was asleep in her bed - baby Gabe was with Mum, but she knew her Dad had gone back to check on the holdfast. So many people were there...the escaped lucky few -god one of them, a boy who hadn't said a word, was her age!- and those like her scattered across the countryside who had come together to hide. Her shiver had nothing to do with the open window. 

Startled, she spun around and through a hand up desperately trying to remember the stun spell Malcolm's Mum had taught her -- only to see Malcolm himself. Oops.* Malcolm! *In a shouted whisper, ignoring the few red sparks fizzling to non-existence around Malcolm now. She seized his hand, darted out the door and shut it so they wouldn't wake Allie. The moment they were clear, she threw her arms around her friend.*

Malcolm: *Pulling his head back a moment as he thought a spell was coming his way and then peeked  again, opening the door a little further as she walked towards him, but they didn't stay in the room. Moving back into the hallway with her, he hugged her tight, his mind suddenly filling with worry again.* I have an idea *he pulled back, his words still soft, his hands still on her shoulders* I think you should stay with us. We have plenty of enough room for all of you and the woods are so close, and I'll convince mum to let you in the reserve all you want. What do you think?

Jezebel: *Wide-eyed, she focused on listening hard. Quietly, she held on to his hands tighter and tighter with every word. Licking her bottom lip and chewing she spoke quickly,* I want to but...but Malcolm--maybe you should come stay with us? You--you go to court! I mean your Dad...can he really protect us? All of us? Isn't that asking too much?

Malcolm: But if we hide...then they'll want to know why we're hiding. But here, they don't care- or well they do care but it's not the same- *he frowns, confused by his own logic and then frowns further as he his fear grows, bringing with it aggravation.* It's not fair, you shouldn't have to hide, and mum shouldn't have to lie. *He stayed quiet for a bit, letting his hands fall from her shoulders* Are you scared?

Jezebel: *Her nose wrinkled in angry agreement, flinching with the simple thought.* I don't know. *Her brows furrowed with stubbornness.* I don't want to be. I want to be strong. But...*She quieted, and then started nodding rapidly, she just didn't want to say it aloud. It was worse that way somehow.* I guess that's true though....and you, you shouldn't have to leave your home either! *tiniest pause* ...can we go to the reserve anyway?

Malcolm: *Malcolm nodded along, understanding. He felt that way too, and he could only imagine how she must feel, knowing she was in much more danger tham down the hall and down the staircases, going silently but quickly. Reaching downstairs, he turned towards the back, to go through the side door* We can borrow some slippers and coats from the wardrobe. *He opened it when they reached it, kneeling down to look for the slippers they left here for whenever they all woke up early and wanted to play in the snow, usually ignoring the boots most days. Finding Alysa's, he handed them to Jezebel before grabbing his. He slipped his already cold toes in the comfortable slipper, wiggling them inside before putting on the other pair.*

Jezebel: *relieved as he agreed instantly, she snagged his fingers tightly - holding fast as she ran with him. It felt better to run. Especially with Malcolm - he had noble parents and he said he loved her, she was safer that way. And he'd listened and didn't think her silly for wanting to go out - into the snow, the pasture of exotic creatures that were sometime dangerous in the black of night. Bouncing as he handed her slippers and a coat, she wriggled herself into them, breathing hard and grinning with determination.* Thanks, Malcolm. *It was almost shy.* I'm glad you're my friend. *She tied the coat off, rubbed her pink nose.* And...and even if I can't stay I'll come back all the time, I -swear-! You'll protect me and I'll protect you and we'll both protect our family. *Nodding with emphasis, her hands fisted in her pockets. Still she added quieter,* Thanks, though. And thanks for coming to find me....

Malcolm: Of course, Jezz. *He grinned and nodded, slipping his arms through his coat, adjusting the collar. He nodded enthusiastically* You should! Mum and dad wouldn't mind, I know they wouldn't. So if anything happens, anything at all- like mountain trolls or giants or acromantulas *Or evil people come to destroy them, but he didn't want to say that out loud* you come right here. You'll always be safe with me here. *He nodded importantly, knowing he meant it. They had to stick together, but they also had to be secret...for now. They had to keep the secret, because he didn't want to be the reason why they came to burn his mum. He rubbed at his eyes again, though they were dry. Of course they were, he was brave and he wasn't afraid of anything, just like his dad.* Well, I was worried about you...*he moved towards the door, opening it and then shivering a bit as the cold winter wind hit his face but he was smiling still as he turned to look at Jezebel* We have a crup by the way! He's really friendly, and he loves it in the snow, burrows in it everything. And a family of bowtruckles too- they're not so friendly.

Jezebel: *Eyes going round as she tucked her hair back, she nodded fervently - oh god, was that a possibility!?* Giants? *Rubbing hard over her heart, she scolded it with the same tone her Mum used under her breath,* Shh. *Her heart listened as much as baby Gabe did. Blinking, but she nodded again,* Okay. Okay I swear. And you - if you get in trouble with...with bowtruckles or mean people or anything you come to me too and you'll always be safe with me too. *Sticking her hand out to shake his imploringly, she smiled at him.* I swear. *And then she darted after him, swallowing as she added,* I was worried about you too. Everybody really. *She brightens--distracted blissfully.* A crup!? What's their name?

Malcolm: I promise *he nodded, shaking her hand once and then darting forward into the cold, knowing the door would close behind them. Happy to talk about something else, he decided to ignore what she had said before. He knew it wasn't very nice, but he also knew Jezebel wouldn't mind the distraction.* Technically, he doesn't have a name. Mum doesn't like to give them names because she says they already have names...we just don't speak their language to be able to ask them. *He shrugged, as it was one of the rare things he and his mum disagreed on.* But between you and me? *grins* His name is D'Artagnan.

Jezebel: *Rubbing a gust of snow from her eyes, she nearly instantly relaxes going outside. It seemed less...real, somehow, for which she was grateful. Tilting her head in confusion at the remark she said slowly,* Never thought about it that way before. But doesn't it get hard to remember? I mean if you constantly say "the grey-one"...*She shrugs and then laughs.* D'Artagnan?! Did you finish reading it then?

Malcolm: That's what I said! *he nodded, getting closer to the reserve gate, his hair freckled with snowflakes already.* Or what if they really don't have a name? Because they don't need a name? Names are a human concept...I guess. *he shrugs and then slides the bar lock off to unlock the gate and steps through it.* Yeah, well by myself I finally finished. Mum's been reading it to me since she says I was three weeks old. And they wonder why all I want to do is swordfight.

Jane: *Curling her white-tipped fingers around the program, she had it rolled up as they traversed the gold-bedecked hall overflowing with decadence. She was giggling. Malcolm's expression (and comments under his breath) were priceless. The Opera had stopped for Intermission (she had batted tears away the last five minutes in a playfully ladylike manner, but really that aria did always make her cry) and now she suddenly cut herself off mid-word, program fluttering to the ground, bouncing off her long violet gown before laying forgotten.* Evan? *The exclamation left rounded lips, eyes darting over Malcolm's shoulder. Oh dear Lord--and Karyn. They both were here.* ...sorry, dear I was listening, I was-- oh I love her shawl... *Okay side note, but both were necessary comments she thought. Karyn's gown was beautiful. ...Malcolm hadn't turned. Uh oh.*

Malcolm: Very funny, Jane. *He rolled his eyes. Jane was always trying to get some kind of reaction out of him- that was a low blow actually.* Who's shawl? Honestly, Jane. -I'm- supposed to be the distracted one here, remember? Gritting my teeth through it selflessly for your enjoyment?

Evan: *He had an acute hearing for his name. Call it arrogance, for most certainly did so, but his head turned, lips flicking in surprise and amusement as he saw Jane. Turning back to look at Karyn on his arm, who looked exquisite as she always did but even more so tonight, he leaned in.* We've been spotted, darling. I take it you know Jane...*The look on her face said as much at least. And Stuart must know Karyn at least, through his mother.*

Jane: If you're actually enjoying it, *sweetly, her hand twirling a diamond stud* then no reason to apologize for not being distracted, my love. *Still with her eyes trained over his shoulder,* But flattered as I am, no, I...was not making a jest.

Karyn: *She stood tall, though Evan was still taller, feeling not the least bit self-conscious among the crowd. It was a bit nice to have her last name not be so contentious a point - though granted, at that moment her invitation read Miss Danielle Adler. Hand resting on Evan's, her eyebrow arched, all discussion on the finer points of the last sonata (and even the contents of her purse) falling away.* I do...*She cocked an eyebrow, seeming to remember to be wary without knowing the precise reason why.* And Malcolm...

Malcolm: *He scoffed, because while he was enjoying the evening, it was almost entirely because of Jane's company, of course. Not the falsettos.* Fine, I'll bite. I'll turn around and you can mock me about my gullibility...shit.

Evan: Ah. This might be a bit problematic, then. *Karyn was still in hiding, and under a different name, and in his self appointed care so he would not have her cover blown, or her safety even further risked.* So what will it be? Swear them to secrecy or wipe their minds?

Malcolm: *He looked to make sure Richard didn't find anything strange- he didn't want any gossip returning to court about Karyn's location- damn, could there be no free night from this mentality.* Did you know about them? *It was a very odd...oh, alright, he thought the pair was the most laughable one he had ever witnessed.*

Jane: *She rolled her eyes to the ceiling as the expletive left her lover's lips in such a ridiculous manner. At least it appeared only two had heard (and promptly walked off; oh the French!) Eyes still trailing over the golden gown (glorious), she paused at Malcolm's words.* I did not. *She suspected Leah had. Swallowing, finally casting her gaze back at him she murmured meaningful,* It would be rude not to say hello...meet his guest. *Whatever Karyn pretended her name was, anyway.*

Karyn: *Amused smirk crossing her lips at the suggestion she muttered back,* You tell me. Malcolm I trust, but Jane's father... *She paused - ah, that was it, now she remembered why she was wary. Eons ago when life had not been made of disguise and murder, Malcolm had complained in town, visiting with his mother. Her lips quirked, tone clipped,* Oh, you two have a history, do you not?

Malcolm: Oh but, sweetheart, you know being rude to him is a prerogative of mine. And now to be rude in two different countries, well! This must be some sort of record.

Evan: *he wrinkled his nose briefly at how trusting Karyn was of Malcolm before he shrugged.* I will trust your judgment on him. *He had been about to say he tended to avoid trusting people in general but that was not entirely true.* Jane is trustworthy as well- she knows how to keep a secret from her father. *He claimed personal experience, of course. Lips flicking, he nodded, surprised Karyn knew* We do, I courted her years ago. Still on good terms...shall we say hello to her and the semi-educated caveman?

Karyn: Thank you. *she said it matter of fact, aware it was not something Evan did often. Oh Lord she really had begun to know him hadn't she?*

Jane: Really, dear? *Why did Evan's appearance always make him so...she couldn't describe it beyond 'petty'; both of them became obnoxiously irritating. Was she flattered? Yes. Did she think it was just about her? Of course not. Even with her ego. Settling the matter for them then, she walked past Malcolm and called to Evan in a high, soft clipped voice,* Evan, how wonderful to see you! *She says this in French, only now swapping back,* you simply must introduce me to your friend. *Tilting her head to look at Karyn as she stopped in front of them.* 

Karyn: *She got how it was Jane kept a secret despite her bigoted father instantly; that was a smart approach and it made her smile.* Danielle Adler, milady. Charming to meet you.

Jane: *echoes easily* Charmed.

Malcolm: Yes, really, the man is an insufferable ba- oh for God's sake Jane. *He would kill her, absolutely just strangle her. Why? God, oh god why, what had he done to deserve this? Lips pursed, he followed after her anyways.*

Evan: *Ah, well, decision made. Smiling fondly at Jane, he didn't have time to introduce Karyn by her new name for she took care of it herself.* And here I was giving my lovely companion all the credit for such a resplendent night. *he smirked as Malcolm reached them, glare already armed and ready.* Paris only grows more beautiful.

Malcolm: I could make it less beautiful by giving you a nice violet bruise. It would even match your tie.

Evan: Hello again, Malcolm. *he smirks before gesturing with his free hand to Karyn* Have you had the absolute honor and pleasure of meeting Miss Adler?

Malcolm: *He's restrained a roll of his eyes* No, I'm afraid not. *He had heard Karyn introducing herself as "Danielle" to Jane, and it made a sadness flash across his face for the briefest of moments before reaching them.* Enchante, mademoiselle. *See, he could talk in French too. Some of it.*

Evan: *Amused, with his eyes still on Karyn, he gestured once more, this time away from her.* Danielle, this is the lovely Jane Brackner and her...charming, courter Malcolm Stuart.

Malcolm: *Oh, he was charming alright. He would knock Roswell down and attack him with how charming he was.*

Jane: *Danielle. ...It only took her a moment to realize why Karyn had chosen that name, for her gut to twist, but it took another moment before she realized...Karyn wasn't hiding. Though Jane had not ever been undercover herself, she had read plenty of Sherlock Hol--oh dear Lord, Adler. Like Irene? Eyes widening, she momentarily ignored Malcolm's rude remark to say sweetly to Karyn,* You have a beautiful name, if you don't mind me saying?

Karyn: *She blinks. Ah. Right. There was another person Malcolm had complained about....extensively. Still she was a bit surprised by his blatant threat before thinking - perhaps he had never had the occasion in town. Relieved as she was they both went along without a flicker of giving the ghost away, she was not surprised nobles could lie.* Lovely to meet you both. *An eyebrow arched slowly, amused at the question,* Thank you.

Jane: Yes, have you ever read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work?

Karyn: *grin suddenly turns fond*

Naturally, one of my favorites. *her lips flick, eyes twinkling* I was flattered he chose my family name to write about.

Jane: She is quite the interesting character. *words heavy with the double meaning* 

Karyn: *Well, she was not surprised nobles could suss out deceit either. She only grinned.* A favorite, truly. Are you saying Evan is Sherlock Holmes?

Evan: *Smirking briefly as Jane deduced the origin of Karyn's alias, he was reminded of the day he had come up with it on the spot, after weeks of having brought up the resemblance. It was quite uncanny.* Allow me this rare moment of modesty to say I do not believe I am quite as brilliant as he.

Malcolm: I agree. *This game was tiring. Dear Lord, sometimes he thinks he was never meant to be at court and play these schemes. False smiles came easier to Jane, not him; when he was displeased, he wanted to show it. This was torture.* It's quite the coincidence, running into you here.

Evan: Yes, quite the surprise. *He tilted his head, gesturing to Malcolm* I for one am shocked you would attend such an event. *Smirking* Forgive me for saying, but I was under the impression that you resemble most an uncultured ape.

Malcolm: *He grit his teeth* No need to apologize, Roswell. *He shrugged though the gesture seemed much more stiff than he would have liked* I'm a complex man.

Evan: *Wry* I'm sure. *Suddenly brighter, speaking to both Jane and Malcolm now.* What did you think of the tenor in the last sonata? Miss Adler and I were just discussing it.

Malcolm: *...Damn him. Clearing his throat, he shrugged and answered casually* I thought it was marvelous.

Jane: Modesty, Evan? Surely not. *False, bright surprise colored her expression as easily as if she were truly shocked. Still her nose had twitched at the word 'ape' - lips wrinkling with a hint of displeasure. Men.*

Karyn: An apology too... *Cocking an eyebrow a bit higher, she restrained a chuckle only by pressing the tip of her tongue hard against the inside of her cheek.* I confess, I am nearly speechless.

Jane: Now, boys. Play nice. *Her eyes narrowed a moment.* Lest I start to remind myself of my mother. *Well it was too late for that, but.*

Karyn: *covers her most unladylike snort with a laugh, and nods in agreement.* ...truly? Marvelous?

Jane: *She had sighed - able to tell in an instant Malcolm had no idea. And really it had...not been the finest tenor moment, but indignant for his sake she said generously,* There were many redeeming notes to make up the false one.

Karyn: *Oh, that was too good. Smirk curling at the corner of her lips she said lightly,* Oh, of course - how generous you are to forgive the man that momentary insult to our ears.

Jane: Momentary indeed - Evan, Miss Adler, might I ask for us to retire this conversation to a more private locale? *Patient she was not. Curious, she was, and damn the cat.*

Evan: I don't know of another way to play. *he smirks, casting his glance to Karyn and winking at her a moment.*

Malcolm: *Wrong adjective then, but he shrugged it off, not giving Evan the satisfaction of knowing his little trick had affected it, because it hadn't. He was grateful to Jane though, for throwing him a lifeline.*

Evan: *Restraining laughter, he licked his lips and then turned to Karyn with Jane's question, judging whether or not she would mind.* I suppose if it's quick. We really wouldn't want to miss the next act, or Malcolm's favorite tenor.

Malcolm: *He would punch him in the mouth.* Of course not.

Karyn: Too true. *As he winked, she smirked, grateful that she was not the sort to easily blush. Or easily wince, as Jane's question made it clear she wanted legitimate answers. *

Jane: Splendid. *amused as she was by Malcolm's expression, she did think they were perhaps leaving the only place they were going to be safe from the men drawing swords. As they slipped into a private room (after she had nodded to a disgruntled Richard who seemed to acquiesce only seeing they would not be alone), she muttered near Malcolm's ear.* You promised to behave until midnight. I would hate to miss our appointment at twelve-oh-one.

Karyn: *The moment the door had clicked shut and they were in another decadent room (she knew too well Arthur would want her to at least steal a glass or two, sitting behind a brandy bottle), she let Evan's arm go.* Thank you. 

Jane: *Arching an eyebrow, saying easily,* Naturally Karyn. You never know whose listening -*fans near her throat, and eyes Malcolm with a tiny pout,* Dear, could you please get me a glass of that brandy?

Malcolm: *His frown remained through the reminder but he begrudgingly admitted she had a point. He was just grateful the private room already had a brandy set out so he wouldn't have to call for liquor.* I'll be delighted to. *And get one for himself too.*

Evan: *He nods to Karyn as she lets go of his arm and then adds only after waving his wand to insure total privacy* Your need to know more and everything, Jane, is as surprising as the sun rising in the east. *his lips flicked amused as he waited for Malcolm to leave the brandy to pour one for himself and Karyn* The real question here is, which curiosity will you satisfy first?

Malcolm: *He honestly hated how comfortable Roswell was with Jane, and hated it even more if he thought about precisely why that was. Handing the glass to Jane, he added dryly* Actually, I'm curious as to how Karyn manages to stand a second in your company.

Evan: Well, she's right here, Malcolm, you can ask her yourself.

Jane: Thank you darling. *instantly accepting the glass, she has already sat down and is smirking with ease at Evan's teasing comment.* I'm surprised of course, to have amazed you with this desire, knowing as I do how voracious you often are for such information yourself Evan. 

Karyn: *Step. Then step back. Pft. Of course. Evan is meant to fetch her one, not herself. Because apparently as a lady she could not pour herself a glass. Jane's comment spun her in a circle -- she blinked -- then promptly looked at Malcolm to interpret. He, seemed stuck in a glower. Not helpful. About to ask Jane - she was thrown by Malcolm's interjection. Her words were clipped and icy.* Malcolm, were it not for Evan, and my own quick thinking, it would have been my neck snapped by the rope, left to loll and dangle, not my father's. *She took a sip, smiling thin through the burn.*

Jane: *quieter, her hand had jumped to rest on Malcolm's.* Well...that does put things in perspective.

Karyn: *Only nods, eyes back on Jane.*

Jane: *Squeezing Malcolm's hand, saying cautiously,* Though...Karyn, I saw you, that...that day--

Karyn: In the square? *without surprise, still smiling* Yes, I saw you as well. So you thought I would stay with my brother in the forest.

Jane: *matter of fact, not unkindly* I admit I did.

Karyn: *She tightens her grasp on the evening bag in memory of it's precious cargo. Her words were simple.* I confess the dirt and leaves does not suit my heels. *calmly* Nor can I do much to answer the atrocity - *she flicks her gaze to Malcolm, expecting he understands considering his own mother's plight,*...in such a regard. 

Evan: *Voracious, he quite liked that word. Though there was fault with that statement, because it generalized "information." he sought knowledge, not gossip. He handed the glass to Karyn, appearing unphased by her comment but it was the opposite. He turned to Malcolm as well.* There you are.

Malcolm: *A bit put off by the plain statement, he cast his gaze down for a moment before taking a sip. Geesh, and he thought he could be blunt. Turning then, confused, for he wasn't sure what Jane was referring to, neither of them were at the square. He would have to ask her about that later.*

Evan: *Truth was he was very grateful that Karyn had chosen to remain with him, rather than stay with her brother but he knew the decision had more to do with her personal aspirations than any affection, or growing lack of disaffection, that she might have for him. It made him rather proud.*

Malcolm: *He nodded, understanding that at least. Karyn was a fighter, she wouldn't just sit back and do nothing, but she had a much different style than Mitchell and the rest.* How did you two even meet?

Evan: Over a painting. *he smirked, taking a sip of his drink*

Jane: *Her eyebrow arches slowly.* ...a painting? *Eyes swiveling over her drink at Evan in confusion, she hid her surprise behind amusement...and solid crystal.*

Karyn: *She laughed: high and bright, teasing,* His lack of appreciation for impressionism, rather.

Jane: *brightly; a much happier topic* One of the Monets?

Karyn: *nods, rapping her nail on the glass once* 

Jane: *looks back to Evan, sly grin on her lips,* Still saying they are too bland then? That always surprised me, I must confess...surely you know better than most what passion subtlety may hide.

Karyn: *her lips press together suddenly, highly amused with agreement.* What do you think of Monet then, Malcolm?

Jane: *Immediately hearing "oh I ravish them, surely" she buttons her lips.*

Malcolm: *He scoffed, for he would never be caught meeting anyone over a painting, or over a book, or concert but truthfully he wasn't surprised to hear Evan had.* You have a problem with Monet?

Evan: My position on Impressionism remains the same. *he shrugged taking a sip* They're just pretty pictures, nothing more.

Malcolm: *He scoffed again, taking a lengthy sip of his brandy before turning to Karyn.* I believe his works inspire a quiet brilliance that not everyone has the intellect to comprehend.

Evan: Forgive me for preferring my passion blatantly overt. *Good Lord, was that ironic. He gave Karyn another quick glance before taking another small sip.* Any other questions?

Jane: *Glove-tipped fingers fluttered across her lips suddenly to suppress bursting into laughter - sometimes there was truly a problem with being so naturally expressive. Momentarily blaming her father (and the fact that Malcolm enjoyed so much) she shook her head briefly.* Well, I knew you enjoyed his paintings love, but I had no idea the depth and girth of your enthusiasm...*She couldn't help that. She winked.*

Karyn: Forgiven. *It was instant. Grin spreading to seem to encompass her entire being at the insinuation without shame, for a moment all she had was memory. It was unusual, almost disconcerting to feel so light with nostalgia. The burden of remembering was heavy to live with. It settled in her chest, choked her lungs until she took a breath of purpose.* 

Jane: *Letting her hand fall back to Malcolm's arm, her lips flicked at the question; didn't Evan know better than to offer her freedom like that?* Well, now you mention it. *She exchanged the briefest glance with Malcolm.* ...What can we do to help, Karyn?

Karyn: *astonished--she looks sideways to Malcolm as well, hand tightening again on her bag as she echoed,* Malcolm?

Malcolm: *Oh, Jane. Smirking easier now, he shrugged and then added casually.* I'm a man of many surprises, my love.

Evan: *Cheeky. Eyebrows rising and wiggling in amusement, he took a final sip from his glass eyes trained on Jane and Malcolm, instantly wary.*

Malcolm: We're on your side, Karyn. *he smirks a moment* And I know, I know you have something up your sleeve- you don't have to tell us. *gesturing idly between himself and Jane* But, anything we can do...

Evan: *He wasn't too sure about that but it was Karyn's choice, of course. His gaze diverted to her now, to gauge her reaction*

Karyn: *She wanted to believe them, she did. It was unbelievably bloody ironic - she could hear Hector now - to think she might trust Evan with this before Malcolm. She knew very well he had been in trouble more times than one could count for rashly and righteously defending his family - his mother in particular, who was like her. Yet still she was wary - she had not explained to Evan either! - and...that wasn't all. She spoke quietly.* Prudent or not, I believe you. But... *Her gaze flicked to Jane.* Your father is Garrett Brackner. 

Jane: *Leah had said once that anything came before 'but' did not count. Sure enough. Her eyes narrowed, hand tightened on Malcolm, but she nodded and spoke calmly enough.* Karyn, I would not tell my father. 

Karyn: Oh no, you misunderstand me. *clearly* I do not wish to ask you to lie to him.

Jane: *her eyebrow flies, lips popping open in a perfect circle.*

Karyn: *looks at Malcolm* George, I believe if you were to inform him, would both support you and I - even if he disapproves of methods. But Garrett Brackner...

Jane:Just call him Garrett. *it slips through her open lips - Karyn's eyes snap back to her.* Omitting the title would be enough of a disrespect to him I assure you and ... and well I'm a Brackner too.

Karyn: I do not mean to disrespect you, Jane.

Jane: *waves this off* I know. I understand - you do not want me to be burdened with the lie.

Karyn: *honest* I should have told my father the truth.

Jane: *swallowing painfully tightly* I understand. But Karyn. *just as clearly* My father is wrong. Your father - he supported you and your brother. 

Karyn: *a hard gleam in her eye* Supports us still.

Jane: Yes. *instantly, and then quietly, a bit bitter* Whereas my father walks this bloody line of being proud of us for having our own mind and maintains strictly disagreeing almost just for the sake of being contrary. You have to give him credit - it's a narrow line to walk, takes talent!

Karyn: *snorts, but nods* Which is why-

Jane: Which is why I already am burdened as you say. *fierce* And twice as burdened by being forced into an interminable purgatory of inaction.

Malcolm: *The moment Karyn brought up Garrett, he knew it was only downhill from there. He had to restrain a wince, and slipped sipped on his drink, wishing it could fill itself up. Jane was handling however as poised as ever, in a manner that he would always be amazed by and he would never be able to mimic. Wrinkling his nose, he sighed and spoke up* Karyn...we only want to help, Jane wants to help. If you're gonna refuse us, fine, but don't do it because of who her father is.

Evan: *He had kept quiet, knowing as he suspected Malcolm did, that cutting in between Karyn or Jane would be a decision easily turned mistake. Placing the empty class back on the table, he slipped a hand in his pocket and said simply* It's her decision in the end, Jane. Burdened you may be, burdened we are all in some regard, it's her plan and her choice.

Malcolm: *snaps* We know that.

Evan: Then don't pressure her.

Malcolm: *he frowns then shakes his head* We're not.

Evan: *repeats, slightly amused* Doubly burdened by an interminable purgatory of inaction, Jane? *eyebrows rise* You expect me to believe someone is capable of keeping you from something you want to do?

Malcolm: Exactly, and she wants to help.

Evan: There are many ways to help, not just this. Karyn *he turns back to her, taking a step forward, asking quieter* Do you want their help?

Karyn: *Silent and still, she does not waver with either of them snapping. There's a pit in her stomach, as she thinks quietly: Malcolm had not heard her either. It was not that she did not trust Jane. The idea that asking for her help would sow discord between father and daughter flares a fire in the pit. She couldn't. She just bloody couldn't. Barely restraining her wince as she understood: they already were at such odds, what she wanted truly to tell Jane was for them both to fucking get over it...but that meant ignoring what she and Garrett disagreed on. She could not do that either. Not when she disagreed with the man so violently herself. And how else should she feel towards these men whose blind hatred enabled the Sheriff to snap her father's neck? Oh bloody hell--* Yes. *She took Evan's hand and just nodded.* Yes. But I don't know how yet. *She did not know the plan - did not know truly if she could go through with it. Impulse had lead to the drab in her evening silk, and she...she had to think. She looked over Evan's shoulder to hold both of their gazes, words even.* If you would like to help, when I think things through -- you would have to come see me at Evan's house.

Jane: *Heartened as she was by Malcolm's defense, she tried not to be hurt. She loved her father. It was only natural someone be wary of her for it; however much she might lie to him about seeing Malcolm, the truth was she did not lie about anything else. Or hadn't. Sadness crossed her face as she heard his voice -- jane, you used to tell me everything... --, thought of the look on his face. Her heart pounded. And that day in the square, after she heard Mitchell's speech...she had run straight into her father's arms, told him she was sorry, that she didn't care anymore if only they could be all right. And she'd meant it: she had ceased asking about Frederick (he had a true place in the town, she was glad for her cousin, would not interfere), ceased snapping Lucy's name into conversation. Honestly, Jane had given up thinking that Lucy and Rick might return to the court somehow; she didn't want to hurt her father or uncle. They were the ones in pain, she thought, Rick was happy. Thoughts cut off as she heard Karyn, her head snapped up.* That's understandable. *About to ask if she wanted to think plans through aloud...she was interrupted with the call for the end to intermission. Jane bit her bottom lip; Karyn had already set her glass down.*

Karyn: Thank you. *quietly, she meant it to the whole room. She would not falter if she could help it; she would be careful, coy. Evan's insistence that this be left to her flattered her -- but more than that, she was touched. Touched by his trust, his appreciation for her independence, his faith. Relieved to fall back into the mask of Miss Adler, she straightened and said sweetly,* I believe we have a tenor to hear. *nodding her head at them, she took Evan's arm again and would walk out of the room with her head held high.*

Evan: *He nodded as Karyn reached a decision for right now at least, and let go of her hand as Jane spoke. Exhaling, he turned and took a step towards Jane, placing his hand on her shoulder. Ignoring Malcolm's glare, he said quietly to her.* Karyn is not trying to insult you or your father...just reminding you that active participation has just as many if not more consequences than the inaction you've been forced in. Know, that as at odds as you might be with him over this, that is not the worst thing. And know that right now the worse, is not only possible but highly probable. Especially should anything in these plans go -wrong-. So think it through before you visit, blossom. *He added that nickname because he could sense Malcolm leaning closer and closer trying to pick up what he was saying. Evan took a step back to Karyn and then said louder* And make sure Malcolm bathes before you bring him to my house. *He returned to Karyn as the bell rang, smiling a moment before smirking again at her words* Yes, let's see if he redeems himself.

Jane: *She had frowned briefly; torn between being irritated as she felt rather talked down to (part of the reason, truly, they were far better off as friends) and being glad he warned her - as it showed his concern. Still waters ran deep. Perhaps Evan disliked Monet's work because to him it was too much the self-portrait. Nodding once she suddenly grinned at the name, saying only,* I understand Evan. 

Malcolm: *He would cut off a hand, and cut off his tongue, and cut off his prick. He would do exactly that, and have absolutely no remorse. He laughed falsely before giving him the finger, thankful for the call that signaled intermission was over. Right at that moment, it resembled more a hallelujah chorus. He turned away from him to look at Karyn, his friend, whom he had never before seen like this. Biting his bottom lip he nodded at Karyn as they left and then turned back to Jane; they seemed to have the same thought.*

Jane: *Her lips twitch and she waits until they are gone before squeezing Malcolm's hand - and realizes they are alone, Richard won't be able to merely appear. Instantly she leans in to kiss him hard and she doesn't stop until she can't breathe.* Thank you for defending me, love. *She has a tiny smile on her lips.* The tenor -was- godawful in that last set though. *She winks, still gripping his hand and then after a long pause she says softer,* ...you want to ask what I meant by the square don't you?

Malcolm: *Cupping her neck, he kissed her, not being able to keep his promise of waiting until twelve-oh-one under the Eiffel Tower. Licking his lips after they part again, he exhaled a chuckle and then nodded, saying wryly* I figured that too late. *He pauses and then nods, having actually forgotten about that detail for a moment* Yea, that would be helpful. *he narrows his eyes* but first, why on earth does he call you "blossom"?

Jane: *It was torture to think they would have to wait until twelve-oh-one now, but it was suddenly driven from her mind. Her little nose twitched as she giggled once,* Oh, because... *...She paused, cocked an eyebrow at him to challenge,* Do you truly want to know, Malcolm? 

Malcolm: Yes, I truly wish to know because I need to know the magnitude of his offense in order to decide which body part to cut off fairly and accordingly. *Well, that, and anything he could come up with in his imagination was twice as worse as what it really was. At least, he thought so.*

Jane: Aw, baby you know how much I love it when you get jealous. *Patting his cheek, white glove against red skin, she continued matter of fact,* But he calls me blossom because I had blossoms on my dress print when I was worried about a History test - and about having seen you - *her fingers slipped up his chin to tug on his earlobe*- with Rachel - and he was saying to keep my chin up, that all buds would blossom eventually. *And then had proceeded to toy with the blossoms over her chest but well, Malcolm did not need to know that.* Satisfied?

Malcolm: Ah, well, that settles it then. *he nods importantly, lips pursed before they pop open with a smack and then he rises his eyebrows* I'm cutting off his tongue. And -that- my love, is generous of me. *He nods and then turns to look at the door sighing* Okay, quickly, tell me what you meant with the square before Richard bursts through the door and kills me with his stare.

Jane: Oh dear. *Instantly her hand drop down as his lips pop open and she seizes his tongue between forefinger and thumb.* You know how fond I am of your tongue, do not make me have to cut it off to settle the code of Babylon. *Clearing her throat primly as she lets him go and drops her hands to her lap, she pauses at the question and nods. It didn't matter that Richard wouldn't actually kill him.* Right. Well...I went in to town to deliver one of Neville's shirts that night - and to tell Frederick why I had not come earlier. Only...only with the sheriff newly sacked and the chaos in changeover...there were no guards. No witnesses from court - well I mean, apart from myself and Leah. And... Mitchell Stone was strolling through the center, he was handing out food, and then called for everyone to listen to him....gave one hell of a speech too. Said he would not back down, wanted their help...*paused, pfts* He even included Rick as part of the town.

Malcolm: *he furrowed his eyebrows as she simply plucked his tongue with her fingers, resisting the urge to bite down and then soothes his tongue by rubbing it against the roof of his mouth.* Wasn't aware we were in Babylon *he muttered under his breath before listening to the explanation and then nodding before his eyebrows popped in surprise* Mitchell Stone...nice to Frederick? It's official- the world's gone to hell.

Jane: *She shrugs the first statement off saying simply,* Seems an eye-for-an-eye world lately. *At what he chose to comment on she laughed, wiping her fingers daintily against the chair back and promptly leaning forward to both straighten his tie and...well, give him a view of her in this dress that was his. Whatever the snide remarks, Malcolm had supported her - defended her - bloody hell, here he was bringing her to the opera in the first place!* I know. And Rick did not snipe back either. Looked ready to kill him, but. *She tugged the tie straight, then smiled and released him.* There. *Her gaze flicked to his.* The town is behind Mitchell. Well, most of it. I imagine that...explains the recent upsurge in raids. *Exhaling,* And what...troubled me was how obvious it was Mitchell truly means to fight to the death.

Malcolm: *Yes, it did seem that way recently, but wasn't that exactly why they shouldn't give in? Malcolm frowned a little, realizing what Jane had said earlier was true: he was being far too diplomatic tonight. Aside from threatening Roswell that was. Even still, he was being rewarded, he could tell. A small smirk appeared on his face as her chest was placed so perfectly for his viewing pleasure. He nodded distractedly for a moment before actually remember to think.* Oh...yes, that does explain a bit. *Honestly, Damocles didn't appear too zealous about stopping them either. Not as long as they kept to thefts that was.* Wouldn't you be the same too though? In his position? His friends were killed, he was framed, they're being hunted like animals out there, Arthur was tortured, Daniel killed...*he shakes his head slowly, speaking quietly* Can you imagine living like that? Knowing that any day could be your last? If it were me, I would go down fighting.

Jane: *Winking at his small moment of distraction, she pressed her lips together through the list: thinking briefly that though all true, it was not the entire story. Mitchell's nephew had been there too - the man had murdered her uncle, ironically despite the fact Uncle Anthony had actually advocated muggleborns. She sighed, letting the thought flit away -- there was no winning on that subject, only pain, and she was as easily distracted by Malcolm's visage of righteous anger. Even more so by the hopeless shake of his head. Chilled by the words, she shook her head slowly,* I would say I couldn't but...I suppose in another way we are all living with it, and fighting it. *Her brows furrow.* I'd fight too. God not even just all you said - they were made homeless too. And I know, I know it sounds like a vain silly female argument but - it's only frivolous until you're the one sleeping on hard ground in the dirt and leaves every night without a clean shirt or any form of privacy. 

Malcolm: It's not the same fight. Well *he tilted his head, amending* Not really. They're dealing with worse, so much worse, and it will always be much more important to them in a way that...we try to understand but we never fully will? I mean, mum's lived through it, and I understand through her but, I'm a privileged pureblood who never had to worry a day in his life about being hunted down and killed. *He licked his lips, clearing his throat and then adding on a lighter note* You know, I wouldn't mind going around shirtless. Actually, I feel like clothing only adds to my deep unresolved rage issues.

Jane: *Her brow furrows as she tilts her head, saying calmly,* I just meant the same...context, war, that we want the same thing. But...dear you have worries about if your mother would be killed, *she genuinely just was being technical, though her face clouded as she continued*-- and I- I did lose my uncle. I was terrified that night - they wanted me dead, you dead - just because of our bloodline, just because we're pureblood...wasn't that...wasn't that the same? *She paused as he continued, then laughed - happily contemplating the image.* Yes, well sweetheart your own game dictated you cannot take those clothes off until twelve-oh-one.

Wri: oww I know x_x and he says yes, completely XD

Malcolm: *He tilted his head hesitantly after a moment, admitting she was right on that, technically (and he knew the loss of her uncle was still keenly felt by all of them), but he said nothing else. His mother and father, hell now even -Vlad- believed it was ultimately the work of the same group of people who had attacked Mitchell. But he didn't want to talk about that now, not anymore. It was clear that they were all suffering in their own way but...like he had said before, their privileged lifestyle kept them from seeing how adversely affected others were. Yes, they had been attacked one night...one night. Muggleborns had been attacked for centuries. Yes, Jane and her family- Flora and Emmett and sweet little Isolde and not so sweet Camilla lost their father...but more than ten thousands of fathers and wives and children had been killed, hanged, executed, burned throughout the years. No, he didn't think it was the same. That didn't make his burden or Jane's or any other pureblood's any less important, or meaningful, or disastrous, it was just different. It was true they wanted the same thing, muggleborn rights and equality but the voracity, the passion with which they wanted it differed too. How exactly was he supposed to tell Jane that he didn't feel like she would completely understand until she had spent the night lying awake in overwhelming and consuming fear that a person you loved could be killed for being themselves- much like he had the night, and for many weeks to follow, that the truth had honestly sunk in? Maybe one day he would be able to let her know, explain why he kicked the shit out of Adrian, out of so many others, why he couldn't help but to react as strongly as he did. But today would not be that day. Today, it was about this opera, that he couldn't understand a lick of, but more importantly, it was about twelve-oh-one, to be able to just cast off the drapes of responsibility hanging over their shoulders for the night and snog under the tallest structure in the world.* Then the sooner we get done with this opera, the better! *he grinned and brought her hands up to kiss them and then motioned to the door with a tilt of his head.* Come on, off to my doom.

Nicholas: Honestly, Sammie--*shushes him and rolls his eyes* 

Samuel:  *nose wrinkles; he stops trying to overhear what the council were saying through the door were saying* Do not shush me! *attempt at a withering glare, a bit tempered by the chocolate on his lips, from his armful of stolen kitchen goodies.*

Nicholas: Ooh-oh, I apologize. *amused, forgetting about the council meeting too momentarily, * Practicing your Lords tone are you?

Samuel: Why? *narrow eyed still*

Nicholas: You sounded like Dad.

Samuel: *instant smiles* Really?

Nicholas: *smirk* Spitting image. If Dad looked like a chipmunk while did i-ow! *Samuel had stepped on his toes.*

Samuel: Why Nicholas, you poor dear -- *brushes off his shoulder while Nicholas lifts his toes and glowers, rubbing them* -were you hurt by a chipmunk?

Nicholas: *face breaks into a smile, snorting once though a laugh* All right, nice one Sammie. *He lifts his hand for Samuel to shake.* Bygones?

Samuel: *Beaming, he shakes it and only then realizes how loud they'd been when they hear "might have known! Not back five minutes!" In Cook's booming voice behind them, and he pinks,* Run!

Nicholas: I said to be quiet! *grabbing his brother's hand and careening off with him,* only to come to a sudden stop face to face with his cousin Helena Faye.* Oh!

Helena: *Her parents had hugged her for what seemed like an eternity and didn't want to let her go. Vlad reminded them that breath was necessary to survival, and even then, her dad just hugged her tighter for a moment before reluctantly letting her go. Honestly, a part of her didn't want to. It felt good to be back at home, and she wanted to spend time with them but running a county and a court did leave limited time together. Even still, they had all promised time together later on the day, and Helena had already told them to prepare themselves because dinner was going to be spent by her discussing her Quidditch matches play by play (she had been the lead scorer, not only of her team but the entire teams. Even still, Ravenclaw came second to Slytherin, the cheeky buggers. Wishing Rosie and Liam were there (but knowing they were with their siblings and Adelina at home, George joining them later) she walked the hallways of her home, both glad and nervous to be back. So much had occurred in so little time. Her father looked like he had aged 7 years, though she had not the heart to tell him. People were decidedly meaner, and some blatantly disrespectful. Helena was better than that, though. She didn't give in to petty insults whispered behind gloved hands. Stopping suddenly when she was about to round a corner, she put a hand over her heart on her new dress (a welcome home present, which looked wonderful on her, much to her pleasure), having been startled. Seeing her cousins, she exhaled and then rolled her eyes. They looked as guilty as a cat caught with a mouse in its mouth.* Oh, what trouble have you two gotten into -now-?

Nicholas: None. *Instantly imploring, he winks at her. It was true: they were not currently in any trouble as they had not been caught. Well caught by anyone but their girl cousin who -- actually maybe he should rephrase this. She might hurt him.*

Samuel: Hi Helena! *he waves, but is indignant* No trouble - we promised Mum and Dad we'd behave. *as he's stuffing the pastries in his coat, he hears a loud 'stay out of my kitchen!'*

Nicholas: *corrects* Some.

Samuel: Not much. It's okay though, we did not break the promise.

Nicholas: *nods* Cause Dad said 'mostly' when Mum was not looking.

Samuel: *mouth full* He-pf-did, yeah *swallows hard; Helena was a lady, he shouldn't talk such in front of her*-- do you want one? *Holding out a chocolate muffin, thinking what his Dad had said about respecting ladies. Only right that moment when he thought of his father, he just thought about being squeezed so tightly he couldn't breathe.*

Nicholas: And -*finishing*- if Sammie could keep quiet, it would have been none.

Samuel: Oi, you spoke first.

Nicholas: I wanted to hear!

Helena: Right. *her countering reply was just as quick, her eyebrows raised in disbelief and her mouth curled in amusement. Turning to Sammy- oh, she corrected herself it was -Samuel- she smiled and waved too* Hi, Samuel. *With treats in his hands en route to his pockets. The distant shout of Cook reached her ears and it only widened her grin. Oh, what idiots boys could be, especially boys related to her.* That sounds like uncle. *Her parents weren't pleased with him, that much she knew and had inferred by herself without having to be informed, but the last thing she wanted was dispute. Well, that was the last thing she wanted now, the first thing she wanted-* You're a mind reader and a darling, Samuel, thank you. *She beamed as she took the muffin and tore off a piece between her fingers and popped it in her mouth. Delicious. Ears picking up something of interest besides usual sibling quips, she tilted her head and then asked* Hear what?

Nicholas: *Beaming in smug pride and agreement, he said lightly,* Of course. Dad trusts us. Mum just frets.

Samuel: *giggles as he finishes off the muffin* Whose being lordly and posh now, Nicholas?

Nicholas: *shrugs* Just was true. How come I don't get one?

*points at the muffin*

Samuel: Helena is nice to me. *teasing, prim like his mother*

Nicholas: I'm not supposed to be nice, I'm your brother. *in the same teasing tone that rather sounds like his father*

Samuel: Rude. *goes to give Helena another one and then straightens with the secret, dropping his voice to a whisper,* The Council is meeting- we saw them go in and well, it looked like Lord Stuart was going to either strangle Lord Estbury -- 

Nicholas: *snort* Or have his head explode.

Samuel: And we were going to leave but there were raised voices - something about security for the Hogwarts Express - did you notice anything? *sidetracked* 

Nicholas: *imploring importantly* As we wanted to keep heads from exploding, we were keeping watch. 

Helena: *Mothers usually fret, Helena thought. But fathers fret too, especially with their daughters. For example, while her mother had commented at how great the dress had ended up fitting her, her father had asked before leaving for a meeting if it was absolutely necessary for her to wear a corset. Honestly, just because he was off committing sins at 15, doesn't mean she was. Actually, if he thought she was, she would never be allowed out of her chambers. Merlin, them having found that book had been embarrassing enough. She took another piece of the muffin in her mouth, licking a bit of chocolate off her nail before she straightened up, her eyes wide* You could hear?! *It was in a panicked whisper, and she had to remind herself to stop frowning.* What happened to the wards? Dad put them up himself- no one is supposed to hear...*As interesting as an almost murderous George was (alright, interesting was not the correct choice of words), she was decidedly distracted* Was anybody else around you? Listening? We have to go check. *She put the half eaten muffin in Nicholas' hand and then started moving past them.*

Nicholas: *His brows furrowed - oh, right - but his shoulders just shrugged.* Dunno. Maybe he yelled before they got them up. 

Samuel: *snorts, eye rolls* She just said the wards were already up dear brother-

Nicholas: Oh all right, you're so clever -you- tell me.

Samuel: *at once* Seal must be broken. *taking Helena's hand and following her, not certain why she was so startled. If the ward was down it was good, wasn't it? They could overhear now!*

Nicholas: *Following both reluctantly and confused he added,* The seal?

Samuel: Yeah - *over his shoulder* the wards don't prevent someone inside hearing what's going on outside if the door is open, right? And what are you doing in Charms anyways?

Nicholas: No one else was there...that we saw. *non deterred or insulted,* And usually, playing pranks on the - oi what year are you again?

Samuel: *shoots him a glare* 

Nicholas: Anyway, the door was closed.

Samuel: That one was. *whispering now as they rounded the corner* Maybe another bit was open and brokensomewhere. *This was fun; it was like one of Jane's mystery novels, or those one Dad read aloud.*

Helena: *Walking with Samuel hand in hand, while Nicholas trailed along a few steps behind them, she realized she could close her eyes and still know where she was. She had that much knowledge of her home, and spent nearly all her time exploring. Court was crowded now especially during the summer but years ago, in the random months, the loud noises quieted to a dull roar. Oh, it was never truly quiet, and she loved it that way, but enough that actual peace could be achieved. No longer, was the sad thought that crossed her mind for a brief moment. Focusing again on her cousins, she took in the facts. The door was closed, but they could hear the councillors inside yelling, (men of such high positions would just say that they were in an enthusiastic discussion but Helena knew the truth) and no one was -visibly- there. Reaching outside the doors, she strained her ears. Either the councillors had calmed down or the wards were back in place. She took out her wand.* Homenum Revelio. *Only three, the three of them. Frowning briefly, she put her wand behind her ear for a moment until she was sure she didn't have to use it again. She spoke in a whisper* Where were you two standing?

Samuel: *He followed every motion of her wand, determined to learn while Nicholas double checked that Cook had not come back. Distracted, he leaned to whisper,* You shouldn't put your wand there - *in a low, worried voice,* - you might lose your ear.

Nicholas: Stop listening to Charles and Rick -*just as distracted, as he strains his ears to see if he could hear* - start listening here. *nose twitches as Samuel sticks his tongue out on him*

Samuel: *He was glad Dad wasn't in that room. He didn't want him to be mad - he and Mum were upset enough. Just the mention of Rick had made him frown, wondering if they were supposed to mention him and then wondering well - what they were supposed to do if they weren't to mention him: he was their cousin! Pushing the thought off he tugged on Helena's hand.* Oooover here. *indicating quiet to Nicholas*

Nicholas: *nodding and indicating his own silence as they approach the side with the tapestry, he paused suddenly: the tapestry. Turning to Helena he hissed - it was her home after all -* Is there a secret passage thatgoes in there?

Samuel: *Why wouldn't they spell that too? Pausing very suddenly as in one particular spot he hears Lord Baudet's drawl as if he was standing next to him, he realizes he's hidden behind the tapestry and a book case if he needed to be - and blinks. He makes a disgusted face.* Ugh. He is worse than Binns. I am going to fall asleep. *He wondered if there was a way he could get Lord Stuart to talk again: his argument had been much more entertaining, even if Samuel didn't get a word of it. Nicholas didn't need to know that of course.*

Nicholas: *gleefully, even as he nods in agreement whispering,* Well it's a small hole anyway...it's probably a mistake Lena.

Helena: *She smiled fondly at her younger cousin, restraining a giggle by biting on her bottom lip. She whispered back* I'll be fine, it's only for a little. *He follows Nicholas and Samuel's tugging hand to the spot they were in, straining her ears. Still, couldn't hear anything. Until, oh! There it was. She frowned, now thinking about the hidden passages in the room- it was behind the book case, after pulling out the right books in the right order and then pushing them back in the correct (but different than the previous) order. But her dad knew all about the secret passages- he was the one that taught them it. She licked her lips and then sighed.* It could be. -Or- someone dug a hole into the wards into a spot right beside the passage to overhear council meetings- official business that neither of you *whacks them both* are privy to and whoever did this much less! *She was still whispering* Either way, I'm telling father about this later.

Nicholas: He-- ow! *He fake-shouts it, wiggling both eyebrows even through his false indignation.* This is the thanks we get for finding it for you!?

Samuel: *tiny bit worriedly* But if you tell him...Uncle will know we were listening...

Nicholas: *Shrugs* Why would anyone do that anyway? I mean it's all wedding preparations and tax collection and ordering things to take the court for Devon and *eye rolls* Baudet sermon--God, I am so glad I'm not going to deal with this.

Samuel: *reminds teasingly as Nicholas sticks his hand in his pocket,* Jane would yell at you.

Nicholas: For taking the Lord's name in vain? *snorts* Which she does daily.

Samuel: Well it's not about -her- though. *brows furrow as he thinks hard, and looks back at Helena,* Why is Lord Ricard in there, do you know? I thought he was sacked. *Dad had been celebrating that.*

Helena: No, that was the punishment for eavesdropping. The thanks is this *she kisses both of them on the cheek, grinning, knowing how much both of them disliked it.* Father won't be angry, don't worry. He'll probably send you treats to thank you, really. *And if he didn't well, she would, and pretend it was him. Mum did it all the time whenever Father forgot to send his thank you notes (which was all the time, and purposefully.)* Yes, well it's all that -now-. But what when the rest leave and Father and George are the only ones there? I guarantee you it's not talk of wedding preparations. *Well, she thought a little prematurely, not yet. But wouldn't it be wonderful if Vlad and Alysa made it the whole way? She'd love to have Alysa as a sister- but right, much too premature. Looking puzzled for a moment at Samuel's question before answering* Well, officially it's to save him face, show how generous Father really is...*she smirks briefly then before adding coolly* Personally, I think it a rather embarrassing punishment knowing you have to sit there as an observer, with no longer any power or influence. About as good as moss to a tree. *In her opinion, Lord Ricard deserved much worse, but they were the civilized people here; they didn't hang men in secret. She was so angry, she could punch something.*

Samuel: Treats? *hopeful, his ears had perked up.* In that case can you tell him I really prefer raspberries? Though I would be of course happy with any berry --

Nicholas: Oh honestly, Samuel. *He roles his eyes, though his gaze darts to the office door again, brow furrowing. He didn't get the punishment. The man had directly defied uncle - killed a man. Sure he was guilty, but Dad would have helped him steal too. Not that he would ever need to be so common -- but that wasn't the point.* If he wants to punish him, why doesn't Uncle just run him through himself? Save everyone the trouble. *He shrugged. But then, that was a Knights solution he supposed.*

Samuel: *speaking up eyes fixed on Helena* It's because if he does that then he's said it's alright to execute someone for honest mistakes or helping their child. *tilts his head, eyes narrowed in thought* Right? 

Nicholas: *snorts, though in truth he had not thought about it that way before* You really think it was a mistake, Sammie.

Samuel: No. *at once.* No, because he's not stupid - *wrinkles his nose*- and everyone knows Uncle Damocles hasn't killed a single person in eighteen years. Not in an execution, and not in war either - when he had Etienne at sword point after the man had killed his friend and knight commander he let him live. Said he couldn't seek victory over peace. *nodding slowly, eyes still on Helena* It wasn't a mistake. 

Nicholas: *Impressed - damn his brother had clearly been reading mother's books - he furrows his brow.* So all right, then we're back to the man willingly committing treason. That actually -is- a hanging offense.

Samuel: *shrugs a shoulder, saying crisply,* Yes and Lord Ricard has a son -- two actually. How well do you think they would serve the man who killed their father? *Only now does he look at Nicholas, saying with clear eyes and a shrewd wit for his twelve years,* If they hurt Father like that, what would you do?

Nicholas: *uncomfortable with the truth but at that, he simply snorts*  Dad would kill them himself.

Samuel: Kill Uncle? 

Nicholas: No, of course not Sammie, stop twisting my words. 

Samuel: *grins wider, suddenly looking very young - pleased to have flummoxed his brother.* I'm just saying it's complicated.

Nicholas: *petulantly, but smirking too* Still, he couldn't cause more trouble himself if he were dead. Problem solved. 

Samuel: *snorts* Well yes that is an attractive thought.

Nicholas: Here here. *looking at Helena curiously, he adds,* Why, what do you think Lord Stuart and Uncle are going to discuss? We could take bets. *wiggling his eyebrows* Otherwise, let's talk of something happier.

Samuel: *brightly - happily* Quidditch?

Nicholas: *instant smirk* Oh yes. *pauses then looks at Helena.* Sorry dear cousin - is that last match still a sore topic? 

Helena: Of course, Samuel. *Her smile however, gave away quickly as Nicholas proposed his own form of punishment.* Yes, that'll solve all our problems, won't it, Nicholas? More death. 

*Merlin, she couldn't believe her cousin could be that thick. She started moving away from there, lest they all get caught whenever the council session ended. She was much more proud of her other cousin, Samuel. She nodded, though she agreed that a mistake by that cruel old man it was not. He knew exactly what had happened...Vlad had told her. Vlad told her everything. As big of a prat as his brother was, he always included her. Beaming, she put an arm around Sammy (because bugger it, he was Sammy to her, even if he did insist on his full name) and squeezed him tight.* You're my favorite cousin, Samuel. And you're absolutely right. 

*She felt like she had a switch at the moment, and whenever she turned from one cousin to the next, it was a completely different expression. But, Merlin, was Nicholas infuriating sometimes.* The man was found with maps in his possession, how exactly does that qualify as treason? *She had to be careful of how much she frowned. Genetics had already proven that her face would remember each and every frown, and mark a line for every time until one day the line wouldn't go away.

Oh, but there she was getting ahead of herself again. It was a common thing for her, something Rosie frequently teased her about, that she lived half in the present and in a future she devised in her own mind. At that moment it was because she didn't want to be 15, she felt so helpless at that age, so "in the way." All these people around her were making history: her father, her mother, her aunt, her cousin Leah, the councilmen, Jane was writing a book, but she felt as much as spectator as Ricard must be feeling in that room. She just wanted to be useful. Alas, she was 15, she was a "child", someone to be taken care of and protected. Oh god, the frown lines were going to take  over.* 

An attractive thought? I'm surrounded by neanderthals. *Well, Brackners but she frequently got those mixed up.* Matters of state. *She replied easily, leaving off the silent "which do not concern you" because technically speaking, they didn't concern her either. But she would learn, and she didn't need to spy in order to obtain that information either. Brightening at the change of topic, the switch flicked again and she glared at Nicholas, smacking his arm.* No, but your arm will be one once I'm through with it. You know perfectly well the only reason we lost that match is because the Slytherin team are all bunch of cheats!

Nicholas: *He frowns, a bit irritated: no of course death wouldn't solve anything, it wasn't about solving it -- it was about justice. Daniel Bridges hadn't deserved to die - but Ricard did, Ricard had taken the law unto himself and committed murder, behind his Lord's back -- in what universe was his own death not considered justice?

Though he did...kind of see how it could create issues. Oh bloody bugger. He furrowed his brow, brought both hands up and rubbed against his cheeks. By the time he had dropped them, he was back to his easy smirk and just laughed as Helena had suddenly launched her arms around Samuel. Putting both hands over his heart he said lightly, playful* You're -favorite-!? Now see Helena you've crushed me, absolutely crushed me--

Samuel: *going bright pink and still rubbing his cheek with the ghost of her earlier kiss and let her hug him. (If you tried to pry Jane off, she just hugged tighter).* Love you too, Helena...*pinking further and then looks at Nicholas.* You're just jealous.

Nicholas: Oh I admit it! *both hands go up insurrender, imploring happily - now as they moved away together from the council,* I've lost the will to go on in fact! Carry on without me --

Samuel: You're so full of it. *And yet he's giggling like mad, watching his brother mime his inability to walk, see him moving towards the chair. He was grateful for the distraction: Helena's comment had brought up the thought that not all of his cousins were allowed to see him. 

He knew Nicholas had to have thought it too - they talked about it, they were going to go to town together to see Rick and meet the girl. Anytime it had come up in school, Nicholas had usually given them hell that he tried to imitate for those people prying into their family- usually Nicholas had had incriminating evidence on the offender too. He was so good. Right this second however, he was more grateful for his brother's arrogant wit.* 

Nicholas: *collapsing into the nearest chair limp, he looks at Helena and added lightly,* Oh come on cousin, I'll admit that one move of Skander's was rotten, you hug me, bygones?

Helena: *Oh, please. She held back a snort and smiled instead. If anything could "crush" Nicholas, it was not her supposed preference for his brother. He was such an over dramatic actor, joking and teasing with no end. As he implored for them to go on without her, she did just that, with a bright smile on her lips.* Come along, Samuel. *She was teasing as well, and didn't get far before she turned around to look at him again. Well, that, and he had brought up Quidditch to taunt her and you simply didn't do that.* -One- move? Skander is a right foul git, who he thinks he's oh-so-smart and oh-so-handsome with perfect hair and loyal followers-- he's the biggest prat of them all. *She did not like Skander, or the way he taunted her after games. Git.* But, lucky for you, I am all about making peace. *She smiled and then hugged him tightly.* Next year though? You're all going down.

Nicholas: *Chuckling through her 'apology,' he found himself beaming in pride of his cousin. Good. She shouldn't break easily just because of a wounded boy; he would end up having to break kneecaps that way.* Yeah, all right - I'll believe it when I see it, Lena. *After hugging her back tightly, he mussed her hair and hopped up.* Where's that prat brother of yours anyway? Shouldn't you be on constant ego patrol since he has been woefully without you?

Samuel: *brightly* He and Ron are on the field. 

Nicholas: ...are you psychic now, Sammy?

Samuel: *overtop the muffin he was munching down, he shakes his head* You can see them through the window - look. *gestures with his head; he wasn't about to stop eating just because his brother was blind* Got someone else with them but I don't know who.

Helena: You'll have a front row seat. *If only the head of house made her captain, then she'd show them. She had great ideas, but the problem with her Ravenclaw teammates is that they all thought they had good ideas. And she knew perfectly well why she wouldn't be given the position, even though she was the best chaser at the school- misogyny. And if by some miracle she did get captain, she'd just be accused of making her daddy buy the position for her. She saw a bludger colliding with Skander's face and immediately felt better. Well, until Nicholas messed with her hair. Swatting his hand away with a sound of protest, she took the wand behind her ear and quickly fixed her hair again. Boys.* He ran away from me precisely because of that, I expect. *No, he had training, she knew. But there would be plenty of time to ego deflate later. Perking her head up in interest, she looked out the window.* Oh, I haven't said hello to cousin Ron yet...who -is- that? *She gets closer to the window.*

Nicholas: *grinning widely as she pushes him off, he stays seated himself rubbing at his cheek. Musing aloud,* I could use a fight... *One more year. Then he could leave school and become a squire. He ran his hand through his hair, fixing it and then got up to look himself. Then he frowned.* Oh -- isn't that the Courtenay's sigil he's wearing?

Samuel: *immediately* Courtenay, the foremost house in Devon? 

Nicholas: Well, didn't the younger brother come to officially invite...?

Samuel: Leander.

Nicholas: Sometimes, you know, that memory of yours is a bit annoying.

Samuel: *nondeterred* Leander doesn't fight though.

Nicholas: He would have had an escort though.

Helena: Lady Cox's younger brother, that's right. *Yes, all the preparations were being put in place to travel to Devon after Lord Joseph and Etta's wedding. The shock of the union had worn off by now though- it had been on the cover of the prophet for so long it was almost old news, but then the wedding itself would surely make the front page, and again the affairs at the Devon court.* Actually, now that you mention it, father might have given Vlad the duty of entertaining Leander. *rolls eyes* Of course, he believes that everyone's idea of entertainment is swinging a sword around. *She shook her head before catching another look at then commenting with a small smile* He's quite handsome.

Nicholas: *instantly frowns and scoffs* His handsomeness isn't protecting him from your brother's steel. *nodding importantly*

Samuel: He'd still beat you. *abruptly, with a tiny little smirk.* 

Nicholas: That wasn't the point.

Samuel: Still true.

Nicholas: Samuel-

Samuel: *over top him* Helena, are you going to Devon too? *wrinkling his eyebrows* I know that Vlad has too but I don't think we are...

Nicholas: We are. *turns back to him* Dad and Mum are both going, so we're going. *flatly* United family. 

Samuel: *a bit wary* ...Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Ara too?

Nicholas: *just frowns; finding himself speechless*

Helena: *She rolled her eyes at how immediate that protective comment came out. It was a wonder to her sometimes. She felt sorry for Jane, now that she had the rest of her brothers back and twice as much annoyance over seeing Malcolm. She said nothing more on the subject of Leander Courtenay and then nodded.* I am, well, I think so. Mother and Vlad are both going, who would I stay behind with? Besides, -I- want to go. I'm not missing those political debates, not on my life. *So what if she didn't vote? It was still interesting to her. Biting her bottom lip a moment as Nicholas and Samuel reached an uncomfortable silence about their family, Helena couldn't help but to ask.* Have you seen them yet?...How are they?

Samuel: *Not one to ever be left out, he adds pointedly,* I want to go as well.

Nicholas: *Well, he supposed that made sense - but he frowned deeper anyway. The politics would be boring. At least Dad and Charles and Jane would be there (though God knew she would be with Malcolm). Breathing heavily out in a frustrated exhale,* We haven't been to see them. I'm sure they're fine.

Samuel: *Are not, he wanted to say: just because they hadn't seen them was...actually, it was even more proof! Before when they came home all of the family would have dinner - he even got a glass of wine last time. Instead he turned to Helena to interject,* We want to see Rick. We were going to go - did you want to come?

Nicholas: *exhale* Samuel...I think we shouldn't overwhelm Rick. *And it was a private family matter. Lena was there cousin; but she wasn't Rick's.*

Samuel: Oh. Right. *pause and then adds lighter* We'll tell them you asked though!

Nicholas: Them?

Samuel: Lucy. *pause, faltering* We're meeting her too aren't we?

Nicholas: I suppose we are. *shrugs, brows stillfurrowed.* 

Samuel: *nodding, ignoring his brother's discomfort and turns back to Lena.* Did you hear he's founding a bank? *Proudly. He could still be proud of him, right?* Uncle gave him the job -personally.-

Nicholas: *snorts; but he smirks too, glad to have a happier subject with Rick. He missed his cousin. And Jane said Lucy was nice too - well wicked, but nice. That fit.*

Helena: *Fine was rarely fine, she wanted to interject but she knew Nicholas was just trying to keep his family's privacy. After all, Ara and Cyrus weren't -her- uncle and aunt. She doubted it was okay, but she kept from making another comment lest she think she was gossiping.* I couldn't possibly interject- *right, just as Nicholas had said.* Just tell him and Lucy I said hi. I remember her, she calmed down Luna one time after a wildcat startled her. *Her horse was not the bravest of creatures, but even the bravest would have panicked at the sight of a panther. She had barely been able to get her back to the stables, and then her mother had reprimanded her for going so far in the forest without company. That had been around Christmas time.* She's nice. *Good lord, she just hoped that neither of them said anything even accidentally insulting about Lucy. Though, if she was being honest, she was more worried about Nicholas at that front.* Vlad told me! It's wonderful news. He's always been smart, a prat -and I say that with affection- but brilliant. The bank is going to do wonders for us and the town.

Samuel: *smiling suddenly; unable to deny he was rather hungry for information on Lucy* You met her? 

Nicholas: *remembering that Christmas - the festivities - he chuckles,* When you went into the forest and the heavy artillery nearly got us all in the blast? *All right, so their Aunt Maeve was a formidable woman-/he could not resist teasing her. Winking at her as he came away from the window, he added simply,* I think I -will- go challenge Courtenay...

Samuel: *rolling his eyes at his brother even as he pats the muffin crumbs off his shoulder, happily turning back to Helena and nodding.* Oh he is a prat, but that was what I thought! And it's such a big honor. I wonder if I could help at all. Though truthfully - Nicholas wait up! *He stilled, walking up after him as he finished his thought,* I would rather work in the law than money. 

Nicholas: *amused, adding easily* Always were the odd one weren't you? A Brackner fond of words.

Helena: *She giggled behind her hand and then nodded* Right, that time. *Because of course, Vlad had gotten yelled at too for not keeping an eye on her as a big brother was supposed to do, and unfortunately for Charles, Nicholas, Ronald, Leigh, and Malcolm- they had been standing too close to the impact radius.* Briefly, mum was rather anxious to get me in private so she could chew my ear out but *she nodded, smiling* she seemed really likable, really pretty too. *Turning then to Nicholas, she sighed.* Oh for heaven's sake- *He wouldn't would he? That was just smack talk, it had to be. She nearly hugged Sammy again, for being as exasperated with hi brother as she was.* It is. Father trusts him enough to give him full reign on this- that's one of the biggest honors here. *She was a little smug saying so but it was true. Turning as Nicholas did indeed start walking, she grabbed her skirts and and moved after him as well.* I think you'd make an excellent lawyer, Samuel. *She released her skirts again as she caught up.* You're more than clever enough. Nicholas, don't. If you want a fight, challenge Vlad. Leander Courtenay is our -guest- and if you hurt him we'll have a political crisis on our hands. *drops her voice to a whisper for her next words* You know what they say about the Lord of Devon.

Nicholas: *Bemused, an eyebrow wiggles over his simple smirk,* Oh, I never doubted she was pretty. *Of course she was. Rick may apparently be filled with surprises - but there was no way he'd changed entirely. Of that, at least, he didn't blame him.*

Samuel: Of course he has free reign. *He juts his chin out even as he struggles to keep up with him.* It was his proposal. *And he was a Brackner. Or well. Not anymore...Samuel lost himself in thought a moment, rubbing chocolate off his lip. He was only distracted by Helena's compliment, and smirked himself.* Thanks, Lena.

Nicholas: *Bristling at the implication he'd back down from fear (and okay maybe he didn't want to fight Vlad - he was three years older! He could challenge him later. When it was less deadly.) -- he stopped walking and said simply.* Helena, they say that about every Lord at some point. *bit quieter* Worse than that right now about your father.

Samuel: *lost, frustrated- he spins right to Helena* What do they say about the Lord of Devon?

“Jezebel…can I ask you…I mean, she’s all right, isn’t she?”

Utterly shocked to hear the man talk for he had been sitting silent for near an hour (actually he had never spoken so much in her presence before), Jezebel drops her needle. It splashes into the bowl, bouncing off the hard clay edge which clatters to the floor as she tries to snatch it, soaking her sandals and skirt.

“Bloo—” 

Leaping to her feet, her hand flutters uselessly after the bowl and needle. Tiny grin planted on his lips, Timothy catches her wrist. 

“Easy girl.” His voice is gruff, but comforting. “Easily mended.” 

Quietly abashed, she rests back on bent knees and nods. Timothy let her go, his big hand waving over shattered clay until the earthenware was a whole piece once more. No cracks were visible as he handed her it; you would never know how many times nor how oft it broke. Her nose wrinkled. The medicine could not be returned to it; the heart of the bowl’s use and purpose. She would have to remix the herbs and refill the bowl.  It occurred to her she was like the clay; her purpose molded, shattered, and molded again in the kiln fires. Still, Jezebel was grateful, merciful and fearful, so she smiled at Timothy and thanked him for the thorn in her heart just the same.

His shrug careless and smile kind, he said nothing else as she stood and went to the mortar and pestle. Eyes trained on the little pounding mallet as if he expected her to pound him with it, he shifted his arm with discomfort.

Tap-tap-tap. The constant pounding was calming as her heart endeavored to match it’s rhythm. Steadily working, Jezebel tried to ignore the angry red lines imprinted on her palms. They were from this morning. Tim had appeared on the edge of their vegetable patch, when she was bent in the dirt with the labor of tending crops. Rattled as easily then as she had been a second ago, at least that time she had yanked out the pesky weeds. They’d left the marks on her skin, criss-crossing the heart lines, but she had not set herself back then. 

His easy grin then had made her laugh; he had come because Jasper had ordered him to go. He wanted a cut looked at; tired, Jezebel had assumed, of the man’s silent suffering. Or of him getting blood on their stuff, Timothy had joked. She wondered why she had laughed. The wound was deep in his skin, a madder scarlet than the brand she knew he too wore. What the cut had come from, Jezebel was careful not to ask. From the angle, an instinct told her it was an odd wound that was likelier to have been self-inflicted…but she forced her mind to stop there. That was chasing a thread that fanned the fear in her chest, a sickness in her belly — as easily as Timothy informing her Jasper had sent him to “the best” fanned the flush in her cheeks. 

Turning the stone to dump into the bowl, she went to the basin still filled with water from their well and spooned it in. Only when she approached Timothy again did she hear what it was he’d asked. Quietly turning the question over in her mind, wondering if she dared, she decided that considering he had asked - it would be worse not to attempt and answer.

“Is who all right?”

Extending his arm once more as she reached for it with a loaded linen, his eyes clouded with emotion. Momentarily worried she should have left the man to his thoughts, he seemed to guess this and held up his free hand. Waving off her concern, he grunted out a single name,

“Marya.”

Tone and gaze tender, he kept his softened eyes on her steady dabbing. She thought for a moment she had never heard been so choked by a single word. Emotion in her own gaze, her thumb swiped under her eye as if mad at her skin. As if the tear was a flek on her porcelain skin. Marya lived with her son of a late husband in the village, aware of the war, aware of the magic. Jezebel knew that wasn’t why he asked. Breath hot and stuck in her chest, she couldn’t think what to say. He guessed the truth of it as her mouth gaped.

“Healthy.” Settling on the word, Jezebel didn’t look up. That was not a lie. Marya was not physically ill. Only sick of heart, as they all were, and for all her slight frame and lack of magic she was as fierce a fighter as any of them. She was a mother. 

Head jerking as he accepted it - and of course he accepted it, for he wanted something in this goddamn life to be good - his voice was gruff, 

“And little Peter?” 

“Making as much trouble as ever.” That was easier to answer; the joke evident as she finished cleaning his arm off and reached again for the needle. The silver tip directed her magic without breaking the skin; cutting him further would do no good. His laugh was heart-warming in her ear.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jezebel winked at him. “He knocked over a sack of grain in Bertha’s store the other day. Made up for it though - he sang in the service last sunday. Megan Harte wants to steal him for every Sunday now — says he has the voice of an angel.” 

She said this just to make Timothy proud. Even if Peter was not his biological child, she could see in his eyes, that smug-soft look her father got when he praised her. Jezebel focused on that, rather than the swimming tears.

“He’s a good lad.” He spoke, then gasped, a rush of heat that he presumed was her magic flooding up his arm. Narrowing his eyes as he felt the muscles relax, he thought the warmth was more from relief after a moment. When there was nothing else to burn, you have to set yourself on fire. The words stuck in his heart. Amazed with how cold flames could be, he was grateful for her warmth. He didn’t remember how he’d gotten the wound she now closed, only knew that he woke with it. Timothy only wished to say waking up with no memory of the previous evening was uncommon. 

It was affecting all of them differently, he thought with no small amount of anger though it was controlled in comparison to Harry’s outbursts. Joel was scared of his own shadow and skittish of rabbits half the time — the other half ravenous. For what, Tim didn’t know. The baker’s son would eat twice as much as him, then complain nothing was enough with tears on his cheeks. And Jasper…

No, he shouldn’t think about any of this; he would only black out again. Jezebel was a good girl - a good friend, he didn’t want to frighten her. He did that enough just by speaking. Filling his thoughts with memories of Marya’s smile, he knew his bottom lip was trembling by the time he spoke once more,

“Too good, really. Too good for me. Both of ‘em. Can you—tell her that? Tell her to forget me?” 

“I will not.” Pulling on the linen she was using to bandage, her jaw set in sudden anger. Jezebel bit down on her lip hard. How could he think that? The emotion flashed across hardened eyes as she met his gaze and shook her head.

“Timothy Smallwood, what would she say if you told her that?”

He said nothing. 

“Marya misses you - she knows you. She knows you better than this. Should I tell her — are you sorry you were with her?” 

Though Timothy said nothing still, Jezebel could see the answer easily in his stubborn gaze of eyes like obsidian. Just like Jasper’s, she thought. In her mind’s eye, Timothy’s image melted to Jasper’s, became Timothy’s again - hazy with the angry tears in her eyes.

“She isn’t sorry she met you - she isn’t sorry. Don’t throw that away. Do not. “ 

Saddened by the heat in her gaze and voice, he exhaled heavily, heart sinking in his chest. How terrible it was for all of them, to be made kin by mutual ire. 

“Jezebel — after what I did — “

“No, don’t.” She snapped it, tying off her work. Her heart had skipped a beat; she did not want to be reminded of his crimes. “You were targeted for something you could not help; do not reward their despicable actions by hating yourself as they do.” 

Laying a hand over his hand, she curled his fingers in a comforting squeeze. Tenderness returned to her as suddenly as the flash of anger, and she spoke with utter certainty — thinking she knew exactly how the woman felt, 

Jane: There must be a way to fly up there. *Critically regarding the tower, tapping a maroon nail against maroon lips, her other hand rests on Malcolm's forearm. As she surveyed the majesty of the Eiffel, brimming with excitement she mused,* I mean yes obviously brooms but we would have to spell ourselves invisible...at least until we are too high up to make out...*She turns her gaze to Malcolm, squeezing and teasing,* Oh love, you aren't trying to weasel out of the Opera tonight by distracting me with other schemes, are you? *When she was already wearing his gown and diamonds too.*

Malcolm: Of course you'd want to fly to the top. Never mind the stairs, or the lift. Those are for the likes of common people like Thomas Edison. *His lips twitched, amused. Actually, he had never been to the top of the tower either as whenever he and his family visited France, it was to spend the time with Aunt Leanne and the family. Though Genevieve always rattled about how "romantic" it was at the top. If there was ever a person more proud of her heritage, it was Gen.* Why would I weasel you out of your gift, my love? Do you think that lowly of me? *he tuts, winking at her. But good Lord, give him strength tonight.*

Jane: Exactly. *Not to mention it would take ages to climb. That wasn't to say she couldn't do it - of course she could - but why should she have to?* And for people not wearing these shoes. *She chuckled as he winked, shrugging an exaggerated shoulder perhaps slightly in mockery of how common the gesture was for him.* Lowly? Of course not dear, I have never found manipulation or schemes to be a bad thing. *And she winked back, still in awe of the magnificent tower they approached.*

Malcolm: *He wasn't even surprised Jane had agreed on Edison being common compared to her. It was just normal of her.* Hmm, you're right. In that case, I'm flattered you think so highly of me. *he teased as they kept walking closer* It's the tallest structure in the world, you know. *As of right now, at least. He wouldn't be surprised if someone out there was already making plans to top the French.*

Jane: You should be darling, it isn't a compliment I offer easily. *Grin stretching from ear to ear, she could admit to herself that really she was still trying to get over how lucky she felt to be there. Away from everything at home. Well almost. She glanced over her shoulder to see her father's paid escort half a mile off and his beady eyes seeming to count the inches between her and Malcolm. Aggravating little blighter. Never mind the fact she had known the man since she was four.* Is it? *She looked back happily.* Wonderful, you know how much a fan I am of things...large. 

Malcolm: I do know. *he grinned, wiggling his eyebrow in amusement. In all seriousness however the structure really was fascinating. Built for the 1889 world fair, it almost seemed out of place here in Paris. He would be far more interested in it had he his father's penchant for acquiring knowledge but alas, Malcolm was extraordinarily ordinary when it came to intellect- aside from his gift with hexes, curses, and swords though those frequently got him in more trouble than not. It wasn't exactly easy, being him. Hailing from a family of intellectuals and finding no natural talent it. Though, it made it far easier to stand out, and that was a talent he already possessed.* And are you impressed by its girth, my lady?

Jane: *Chuckling at the way he phrased that question as they neared the bottom, she trailed her gaze up the winding spires, the metal adornments.* I daresay I am. *She mused aloud, dropping his arm as she went to walk around one enormous foot of it. Well and perhaps because it gave him a view of the bare back of her neck and shoulders, where the deep purple gown fell off.* It's remarkable, honestly. *She said with open mouth awe as she stepped back to look up, wide-eyed.* However did they manage to build it without magic? There weren't any witches on the design team, right? Amazing. *She flicked her bottom lip with her tongue, still in awe, musing aloud,* What muggles can do when they put their mind to it...

Malcolm: *Here he was under the Eiffel Tower in one of the, arguably, most romantic cities of the world and the sight he chose to focus on was that of Jane's. How splendorous she looked in the dress he had known would suit her tremendously. Violet was the color of royalty, a detail he knew she appreciated. Smiling, he chuckled as she startled resembling a little child in awe and put a hand in his pockets.* I'm sure the answer lies in some boring architect ural and engineering explanation. I've never been much interested in figuring out how things work, what makes them tick...takes a lot out of the magical aspect in my opinion. *He shrugs and smirks.* Muggle magic.

Jane: *Spinning back to look at him, the gown fluttering across her heels, Jane smiled.* Fair point. I suppose I enjoy the moment of wonder far more than an answer. *He had that look again; the oh-so-proud look that he got whenever he said she was being particularly effusive. As if the fact that he saved a smile for her and only her would make her smile lessen?* Muggle magic. *She snorts, wry a moment,* Well there's a phrase we couldn't use at home. *Her eyes trail up the structure again, saying flatly.* Imagine if we tried to build something like this, focused on creation and not destruction...

Malcolm: I would use it. And damn anyone who tried to say anything about it. *But that was him, it was who he was, always starting up trouble, sometimes just because he could but most of the time it was because he refused to stand down for something he believed in. He licked his lips and shrugged.* Then we'd be living in a dream world.

Jane: *Sucking on her bottom lip, for a moment she was glad she'd been looking skywards, wary as to what he'd say to see hesitance flash across her eyes. It was...only that for a moment she heard that as him swearing to damn her father, and it twisted her gut unpleasantly. Yet when she looked back again, she was smiling with her stubbornness.* I think we could manage it.*She shrugs a shoulder, hand slipping to rest on her hip.* Why not? Two of us, we can do anything. *Her gaze flicks amused over his shoulder as she said wryly,* Apart from, apparently, shake off Richard. *She sighs playfully.* To not be able to share a kiss in front of the Eiffel Tower...

Malcolm: Darling, you do realize you're advocating us capable of keeping world peace? *Malcolm wasn't exactly the best example of keeping peace now was he.* Well it is not as if Richard could physically prevent me from missing you, now could he? *Just rat him out to Garrett who at this point would try and prohibit him from seeing Jane. It was a chance he was willing to take.* Besides, I don't mind putting on a show.

Jane: Well. I was just thinking we build our own Eiffel, but now there's an interesting idea... *Her hand came up to tap her lips despite the utter (obvious) absurdity. Malcolm was not the most even-tempered, nor was she. Not that she minded; she enjoyed consuming his temper half the time. She laughed suddenly,* Oh say that quieter love, or else I fear he'll aim something at the back of your head and half to take you to the hospital. Which would make me just oh so cross as I would miss tonights show. *Nonchalantly,* Both of them. *Tilting her head at his remark, her smile turned coy,* For my butler, dear?

Malcolm: Only if we call it the Stuart tower. *A tower was much more feasible than peace throughout the earth. He scoffed and then grinned* Richard doesn't scare me. *he looked back to the man who was a good ways away from them but who's narrowed eyes never left him. He turned back to Jane and admitted teasingly* Maybe a little. *grinning* I meant put on a show for all of Pari *he said it the French way* but he fits under that category at the moment.

Jane: Stuart Tower? *Scoffing for she suspected a different reason than Malcolm, she tucked her hands behind her skirt, cocking an eyebrow, wrinkling her nose and saying playfully - though with all seriousness* I prefer Jane Tower, dear. *Not Brackner either, obviously. As he looked back at Richard she darted a few steps further back teasingly,* A little? Well my love, currently this is just a lot of talk with  *She wiggles both eyebrows.* shamefully little action. Must you be such a tease?

Malcolm: Then I guess we're building two of them aren't we? Have ourselves a little competition while we're at it. *After all, he never gave Jane -exactly- what she wanted, not without a little work for it first. He grins and then nods.* Yes, yes I am. That's all I'll do tonight, tease and behave and tease. Drop you back off at home at a reasonable time, only kiss your hand. *Winks and then smirks.* Then after midnight, when its no longer tonight but tomorrow, sneak through your window, apparate you back to this exact spot and kiss you then.

Jane: How diplomatic you've become, I'm astounded. *She had naturally still pouted a moment; of course he wouldn't let her win. And of course because she knew it was partially because he wanted to see her pout. Her lips pressed tighter together as he continued to describe, eyes fluttering and then she finally laughs out, her hands coming up (oh she was going to hit her father for insisting on the escort. Just because he could not have controlled himself...well all right maybe he had a point, damn him).* You, are going to be patient sweetheart? *tilts her head, her joined hands pointing at him and then to the sky, giggling* Diplomacy and behaving...oh you saw your Mother today didn't you?

Malcolm: Stranger things have happened, and miracles occur every day, sweetheart. *he wiggles his eyebrows before answering simply.* Jane, you obviously don't know my mother at all if you think she's the advocate for diplomacy and proper behavior in our family. *he grins, knowing really that Jane just delighted in bringing his mother up at times like these. Not that he didn't love his mum, obviously.*

Jane: Well not for herself...*chuckles, amused for well, wasn't every parent hypocritical a little?* ...but she certainly does for you. *She nods in agreement with both of them as she drops her hands back to her sides and looks up.* So at midnight...might we fly up there? *she points, wiggling both eyebrows*

Malcolm: *Well, that was true. He did receive quite the verbal "lashing" from her a few weeks ago. Of course, she ended by giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek and told him she loved so it wasn't exactly a reprimand but. He follows her pointing and then grins widely, turning back to Jane and nodding.* Oh yes, definitely. *He takes her hand again and then kisses it, smirking after.* Maybe then we'll see about flying to the moon.

Frederick: *smiling softly against her lips the moment before she pulls back, he nods, albeit reluctantly, at her question. Frederick was both upset and relieved she could not go inside. No matter how much he told himself that Lucy could handle any of what these people might say, it still didn't sink in to him completely; he just wanted to protect her. Besides, Cyrus was in there somewhere, so where his uncle and aunts and siblings and cousins...he felt bad for saying it but he sincerely hoped he didn't run into them. He was there for one reason and one reason only. Lifting her hands, he kissed each once, rubbing his thumbs in circles.* I won't be long.

Damocles: *He just nods, standing straighter until Cyrus left. Rubbing his forehead and looking determinedly anywhere but the window, he reached to take Cyrus' tea cup back to the cart.*

Lucy: *At least she had been there when they had entered the grounds, passed the security procedures to let him in. The way they had looked at him irked her, but they hadn't said anything. Now she realized guards were the easy part: if he saw any member of his family....she squeezed his hands tighter. Softened by his sweet kisses she nods,* You will convince him. I'm sure of it. And then we can celebrate, honey. *Kissing his cheek, she whispered,* I love you. *Then she let him go.*

Frederick: *He nodded, lightened by her words and holding on to them tightly, as tightly as if he were to hold on to her.* I love you too. *Then it was time for the ascend. Court could be so damn predictable, that he almost laughed. Some things didn't change. He had been good at ignoring everyone in here already, it was simply a skill he had to tap into again and without difficulty. Whispers traveled faster than light, in his opinion. The more he walked, the more people he seemed to stumble upon, but so far none of his family. Good. He clutched the folder to him a little tighter as he greeted Nathaniel, and asked him if per chance Damocles was busy. Frederick knew that usually these things were brought to the entire council on a specifically designated day but honestly, Rick didn't care. Damocles' servant seemed even more flabbergasted than usual, mentioned something about "good timing" under his breath and "too close" before he excused himself to go into the study and announce him. Odd man.*

Damocles: *Surprised as he heard Nathaniel ask to enter once more, he looked up and tilted his head. Utter shock crossed his expression but - oh, of course. That explained why Lucy was waiting (all right, he may have looked outside once or twice). Nodding to usher him in, he stood again (finishing his tea quickly).* Morning, Frederick. *Certain his surprise was still on his face, he pondered a moment telling him to go after his father - but that was him being a meddling arrogant ass, so he let it drop. Instead he said simply,* It's truly good to see you.

Frederick: *He walked in when he was allowed in, odd word to use but it was the correct one after all, and was actually pleased to see the surprise on Damocles' face. Good. Shock and awe could be a good combination.* Good morning, my lord. *The sincerity of his next words now left -Rick- a little surprised so he smiled and nodded.* Thank you. In that case, I already have something in my favor. *his lips flicked briefly before he motioned to his folder* I have a business proposal that I think you would be interested in. Do you have some time to spare? 

Damocles: *Part of what was truly so shocking, was seeing the natural ease with which Frederick spoke. He always had been confidant - always smirking with some smart-ass comment or another, but now Damocles was stunned. The difference between father and son never so palpable as now (he could not help but compare); even the respectful title dropped the same way seemed to sound different.* Oh? *He found himself smiling honestly now too. For while his clothes clearly looked well-cared for, they also were worn...and yet Frederick looked damn better together than his father had. Aching in his chest at the thought -goddamn Brackner stubbornness- he nodded, gesturing Rick could sit with him to show the proposal.* Well, spare no, but listen yes. *His lips split in a wry smirk.* What do you have in mind?

Frederick: *he sits when it was offered and it was most probably for the best; he tended to pace when he was anxious or nervous.* In one word: growth. Here's another: opportunity. Security. Prosperity. *Oh yes, he could really lay it on thick when he needed to. He pulled out a piece of paper and laid it in front of Damocles on the table. On it was a charter request, written by him (his education paid off after all,) and at the top the name "The People's Bank of Faye".* In my time living in town, I've realized how many things I had taken for granted. They, and now I mostly, live day to day. They have no place to store their savings, where those savings could accumulate interest, no place to ask for a loan except for the Lords up here specifically and the majority are not as generous or understanding creditors as you are. 

Damocles: *Rather amused at first when he realized he legitimately was being pitched to, the lofty words that made him smirk quickly fell into words that made him listen. Genuinely, as this was meant to be something Octavius oversaw for him and knew his wife did more than either. Mitchell's words about starving them with the taxes rang in his ear and for a moment, he was grateful to hear Frederick say he was the most generous whether of not it was true. Perusing the top of the document slowly with a critical frown but eagerness to learn in his gaze, he nodded once. The thought of a bank had crossed his mind before - every single time Leanne had visited truthfully while her husband looked on fondly - but while his wife cultivated the school, he had never been able to find the right people or time to open such a bank. His goals had been split between raising his children with principles, endeavoring to strengthen the security against darker foes since Marcus had fled, learning with George and Adelina as much as they could how dark magic worked - medicine,as he aided her healing research. and of course, what had consumed his life - the "spare" time - passing the proclamation. 

Reaching the end of the top parchment, he looked up to Frederick. Honestly for a moment he wished he could appoint another Brackner to the council position - but Cyrus had made that impossible. Furrowing his brows and realizing he was interested in setting this bank up already - that wasn't all. But first things first.* I am impressed. Frederick, I have long thought such would be a good idea - the issues have come in how you would set it up. What building in town? How many would you hire - what governs the investments you are allowed to make? *His lips flick thinking ruefully; the council? His nose wrinkles.* If the council does, then I would think you and everyone else would be at risk to lose life savings to them. But if you are willing to work with me personally...then I think the first step would be speaking to my wife and Esther Hall as well, so we might offer a seminar to teach how to invest in their own profits.

*He'd need one. Oh, military strategy he understood - and he was a fair hand at political maneuvering and affairs with foreign counties or even nations. But show him his finances and his mind spun past simple facts: he just did not have his wife's brain.*

Frederick: *He was immediately interested, Rick could see. It was not surprising that Damocles had thought of this before, or that some of his councillors, advisors (or wife) had brought up the issue. But before all of that, it was strictly speculation. Now Frederick brought plans, detailed ones. He had written rough drafts on pieces of napkins while he worked at the tavern, stayed up late passing them over, consulted with Lucy and Thomas and Esther (sometimes on a particular word, sometimes asking if the sentence was clear enough, that sort of thing.) He took another parchment out and smirked* You'll notice I came to you alone and not them, my lord. I already have approached Esther and Arleen as well and they'd both be delighted to help. *He passed another document* That's the floor plan of the building I'd plan to use: it's been abandoned, needs some restoration but the internal structure I could restore magically without any need for funds. I believe I was told it may or may not have been used as a safe house for goods a couple of decades ago for smugglers.

*Honestly, the way Esther smirked when she told him, he figured it had to be some sort of Stone thing.* The hidden room would be the perfect place for the vaults, and the safety deposit boxes. Again, I could handle the security with spells to keep out burglars, both magical and muggle. It would be a small operation to start with- I'd act as bookkeeper and record all the transactions, and owner. Ian Lally has expressed interest and Esther has assured me he possesses great skill, he would be one teller, Mia Stone -*truthfully, she had overhead he and Esther talking one day and wriggled her way into the conversation, but she proved her worth* as well. They'd handle the money- receiving it and distributing it. I'd also appoint another administrative position, to oversee the running, keep the gears turning if you will, someone with a natural flare for authority. I have several in mind, but I've not yet approached anyone.

*Thomas had suggested Merida, because no one would dare go against Merida, and she'd have those potential burglars running out of there faster than...well, Rick forgot. But he was sure it was a very witty simile.* Obviously I'd need start up money, but the bank would be able to after a certain time repay your investment through our retained earnings from interest revenue, and it would grant you, or someone you appoint, I suppose The Councillor of the Treasury *-God help them-* access to audit our books, for that is well within your right as an investor. *He paused and then licked his lips, before adding more genuinely, personally*

I realized that I'll never make the money I need to save up for my own place working at the tavern. And then I realized if that was true to me, it was true for many. The process is going to be long, they people in town will get frustrated because they won't see the pay off quick enough, but it -will- happen. Your people will be happier, better off. The town will grow, more business will grow, the quality of life will improve, more children will be educated. The gap between the nobles and the townspeople will get smaller, and muggleborns as well. If they grow to have money and if they grow to have a better education the same way we...*he corrected himself* you, people here at court do, it will become more apparent, easier to see, that we're all the same. Purebloods and muggleborns and everything in between. So you see, it's not just the town's growth and prosperity and security and opportunity I was referring to, it's the court's as well. *he paused for a moment and then added in jokingly* The future of the magi cal race could very well be decided by your accepting or declining my offer here, Damocles- my lord. *He was that important, after all.*

Damocles: *A smuggler's hide-out? Why did that remind him of Rowland? Rowland had told...who was he talking to?...that his sister had been a smuggler before marriage. Damocles blinked, not liking that he didn't know why he knew that and moved on. Continuing to go through the documents as he spoke, to add visuals and follow along the floor plan, his ears may well have swiveled in his eagerness to understand the finer points. At least Claudius, for all his long-winded ancient answers and weird reading spectacles had the least inclination of the council towards self-interest; the man loved his numbers too much to abide such inaccuracies. He could always ask George to read them as well -- he might grant most of the Stuart business to Leanne, but he handled daily affairs on his own.

All such minute thoughts of set-up fled as Frederick again turned to personal experience. Damocles held his gaze without a flicker of his sudden immense emotion on his face, nod bare. Mitchell had reminded him they were not children anymore. Frederick's clear preparation was only outmatched by his emotional attachment, his deeper understanding of how this might help everyone and not merely himself. Dear Lord, when had he gotten so old? He was recognizing: these were the advisors he needed, Frederick and Mitchell, Leah and Malcolm - these children who were no longer children, they were the ones fighting. And in that instant Damocles realized they were the reason he had hope. It was an old war they fought, their parents and grandparents war  -- but the children, the ones who Vlad would lead and work with -- they were much smarter than him. They would do a damn fine job, he thought proudly. Nodding now, through a wry smirk he said first,*

Well, you certainly know how to stroke my ego. *More sincerely.* And what I care about. *And he did. Rick had gotten it: proved to Damocles that he saw the larger picture by having lived it--that he understood what he honestly was trying to change had nothing to do with lowering nobility. It was about better lives for all.* Very well, Frederick - I will go through the proposal--*with his sisters, wife and George...he thought for a moment, how Evelyn would inform Garrett, who would tell Cyrus before thinking he couldn't worry about that, it was not his concern. Frederick might have been denied his title by his father - but he had not been banished by him.* -- and define the funding. In the meantime, you have permission to both start the spells for security that require no funding and approach your regulator in mind and inform everyone we will go ahead. I'll have official contracts drawn to those -*he gestured the plans*-and our additions of financial specifics and we can meet to sign and break ground. I'll trust you to head the project once we have, and appoint myself until it opens to audit. *He pauses, and then says more simply,* However Frederick...I need your help as well.

*What he truly wanted to say - that it was he who granted titles, as he had to Garrett, regardless of Cyrus - he swallowed back only as he did not mean yet to take that step. His eyes suddenly blazing with determination, he doesn't blink as he holdshis gaze.* What you said - what you've shown with these documents... is more than a bank, that you understand now why this fight is important. I have been blinded by the court - however honorable my intentions, I know that to some, if not many, appears I am out of touch with what real people need right now. That the proclamation was an empty gesture or an olive branch I now will point at and say it was all I needed to do, that I am yet above them, that I do not care. *He exhales.*

That is not true. I care. I sympathize. But I do not have the means to empathize that you now do. These are the things that I need to hear, that I want to hear. *His lips flick in a dry smirk.* I'm not asking you to go try and change people's minds about me -- they can say what they will, my ego will recover, I'm sure. But I would like to talk to you. I would like to understand their struggles that are now yours too - I would like your advice more often. *He exhales, eyes watering as he suddenly realizes he still has yet to blink and finally does so.* I cannot make you acouncillor- you know that, but I've had personal advisors before in regards to the town. *One. He pushed it from his mind, mentally convincing himself he meant Adelina and those Maeve and Abira worked with.* And I can pay you for that as well as the funding for the bank. Not much but--*he shrugged a shoulder*--I would not ask you to do so for free.

Frederick: *He only restrained a laugh of triumph by diverting it towards a combination of an expression between a smirk and a grin. He nodded, the bubble of apprehension in his chest deflating to know he had succeeded.* Yes, sir. Thank you, Damocles- *He had completely forgotten the honorific in his withheld excitement, nodding through all the instructions, having expected them or at least similar variants of what he was hearing. He pauses mid nod as Damocles adds something else. A year ago he would not have expected to be sitting here, discussing muggleborns rights with Damocles, much less being for them. He had grown. He had changed - thank God, for the better. Instantly hearing an odd combination of voices Etta, Jane, Leah, and Karyn that said quite loudly "he couldn't have gotten any worse." He didn't regret any of it though, none at all, despite all those weeks feeling like an empty vessel and all those mornings of choking back his own vomit and so many years of hating himself...he was for the better now, even if he was dirt poor. He supposed it was so noticeable that Damocles could easily see it, see the difference and no trusted him enough to want his opinion. Frederick sat back slowly, stunned. He pursed his lips together as he considered it. The extra money could very well be worth it (and he had a feeling Damocles' version of "not much" differed from what Rick's was right now).* How often would I need to come to court and report to you?

Damocles: *Waiting patiently while it processed for him he furrowed his brows slowly at the question. His pleasant expression unmoved, an icy jolt through his veins anyway; he thought to himself ideally he would have had Frederick report to the entire council at the weekly meetings. Yet he had just appointed his father there and while he wanted to proceed professionally, he knew he could not govern as if he did not know what situations would cause conflict. As if he didn't know his people. Was that not the whole point?* I could meet with you in town once a week, Frederick, in the capacity of working on this bank. *Simply, but fairly,* If you continue coming to court then people will ask why - and while I surely do not mind who you tell, if you tell the town they might start treating you differently...want you to quote-unquote "report well of them" or the like, and that helps neither of us. Does that sound fair?

Frederick: *He could not deny that he was immensely relieved that he wouldn't have to return on a regular basis. That would have been near intolerable and the more he was back here, the more chances he had of running into his family. And Damocles had a point, if he came here too often well, all that trust that he earned in town could have easily gone away. He nodded.* Very fair. *he smiles earnestly, still in much disbelief this had gone so well* Thank you, my lord.

Damocles: *As he honestly smiles, Damocles mirrors with his own. See? Bloody hell, why did people think him so impossible to work with? When in agreement with him - was he not rather generous?* I'm glad you approached me. *A little more seriously.* Is Lucy well? *He honestly asked more because he wanted to show he respected them together - but he also added anyways,* You can see her waiting outside from here, you know.

Frederick: *He neglected to mention that he might not even have thought about the bank seriously without Mitchell Stone's input because quite frankly, Frederick would rather believe that wasn't true. It would have happened either way. The topic of Lucy always brightened his face and he nodded, lips flicking in amusement after taking a glance at the window, though as he was sitting he really couldn't see much.* She's doing good. Anxious to hear the news I expect.

Damocles: *He chuckles at the addition, nodding absently as he looks back to the parchments in front of him. Shuffling them as he puts them in order, he says lightly,* I am glad she's well. *His eyes flick up to look at him, adding simply,* Then you should hasten to her at once I expect though - I should add I believe Jane would love to see you too. *His one eyebrow cocks saying drily,* Or else we'll all hear it for ages. 

Frederick: Respectfully sir, I don't plan on lingering around the court any longer than I have to. *And he was definitely anxious to return to Lucy's side now that Damocles had approved the project.* So unless she happens to be standing right outside the door *he shrugs* she knows where to find me.

Damocles: *Just nodding once, his smile does not flicker or falter, but a sadness crosses his eyes as he understands the bo--man, truthfully.* I understand. Thank you for your proposal - and for accepting. I will owl you with the details of the latter later tonight? *He stood, extending his hand to shake.*

Lucy: *Fidgeting with her bracelet as she spins it around and around her wrist her eyes scan the grounds anxiously. Well, rather, she did not what to see one Lordling in particular. Counting windows to pass the time - and ducking the gaze of some young ladies hurrying by she didn't know - she frowned and thought speak-of-the-devil, spying Matthew talking with some other bastard friend of his. Wrinkling her nose and straightening to glower at him, the man smirks - but she turns and walks the other way, nearly running in to someone. When she saw it was Rick, she promptly did. Arms still around him tightly, her words breathless,* Well? How did it go? *Keep eyes onme, she thought hastily.*

Frederick: *Nodding, he stood, feeling oddly lighter than when he first walked into the room.* I look forward to working with you, sir. *He shook his hand firmly and then left the room, a part of him was almost expecting Jane to be waiting outside the door despite his initial statement being partially a joke. Ignoring the whispers and the pointing was even easier now, and he walked down the hallways quickly. Stepping out onto the grounds, he smiled to see Lucy and walked towards her but she didn't seem to be noticing him. Frowning slightly in confusion, it was nevertheless cleared as she finally noticed him and all but barreled into him with a hug. Smiling again, he hugged her back tightly and then exhaled, eyes dropping to the ground in feigned disappointment for a few seconds before he looked up at her and grinned.* He's accepted the proposal.

Lucy: *As he dropped her gaze she winced instantly - preparing remarks, trying to think how to make him feel better, when he looks back up grinning. Gasping out and whacking his shoulder she shakes her head wide-eyed,* Oh you--Rick. *She leans in and kisses him - a loud smack against his lips.* Of course he did. I never had any doubt. *Lie: but it was Damocles she doubted, not Rick.* When do you start...? 

Frederick: *He laughed as she hit him, kissing her back and putting an arm around her again and then heading towards the entrance, now more accurately an exit for them.* Immediately. He said I could start clearing out the building and installing security spells that require no money, and then he'll have some contacts drawn up. *That he would scour through diligently.* He also offered me a position, as an advisor. He'll meet me in town weekly under the pretense of working on the bank...I said I'd help him with that too. He'd basically be paying me to share my opinions.

 Lucy: *looking over his shoulder as he spun with her, she scowled a moment as she saw Matthew still looking at them and quickened their pace, eyes falling back to his and beaming. She didn't notice her voice go up in octave as she answered,* Frederick, that's wonderful! And...ridiculous, only you would manage to find that job when you weren't even looking. *Eyes forward.* So...you'll have two jobs - giving your opinion, starting the bank...*And faster steps, her free hand lifting to fix and toy with his tie,* this sounds like an occasion for celebration.

Frederick: Well, I do possess a certain skill of overachieving, you know. *He supposed he wasn't surprised that Lucy was also trying to move them as fast as possible out of there, he would want to be gone too. So he focused instead on what they could do once they get out of here. Smirking, he raised his eyebrows and asked seemingly innocently* What did you have in mind?

Arthur: *He swiveled, tossing his remaining two parcels at younger kids - blast if he could remember their names - and then saw Ben staring wide-eyed with a grin at the tribute. Figured. Show-off. Ben looked enraptured. He managed another wink at Annemarie, his hand flying up to swing a jug into a guard. It broke, all black and gold ceramic on the silver suddenly splattered with tiny pin pricks of red: scarlet from his blood and maroon from the wine. Considering Mitchell was yelling he'd pay for the beads, he looked at the aggravated shop woman and gestured 'me too' to Mitchell's yell. Only then the yell was louder, curse filled (Hettie slammed hands over Ben's ears) and he spun an inch to see his friend throwing an offending arrow at the ground. He let out his own curse, but only when he was grabbed. Knocking over another post and hopping over a whiskey-barrel as he and Mitchell ran, Arthur got one last glimpse of the scattered guards tripping on beads, glass ceramic and wine. Best of all was the scowling, sodden Tyrelion who was waving a fist at them but ha-- without open magic, they were home free. 

Well, he thought they were home free. Until he saw as they rounded around towards an outlying farm down the road to spy Leah. She was wearing a scowl and a - good Lord, she was in a corset. Or were his eyes playing tricks on him? He wouldn't say anything, though, she had her sword too, the scabbard ever on her hip even over skirts of dark green.* Well, hello! 

Leah: *The bundle in her arms had been originally for Adelina, and despite the commotion in the town square she had stayed on mission. The damn corset, which she had to wear for the bleeding visitors coming for Etta and Joseph's wedding, made deviating from her path difficult. It wasn't until she heard a familiar voice shouting she turned, letting out the only breath she had successfully managed to draw in the last half hour. It did not return. There was an arrow flying--an arrow striking--an arrow sticking Mitchell.* Mitch-- *It slipped in her panic. Heart dropping to her stomach, she promptly reassigned the medicine in her arms: she would get more for Adelina later. Backing up lest Willas spot her, corner her, she wound through alleys and then surrounding roads to come out - disapparating to behind the nearest farmhouse as soon as able. She knew they'd have to come this way. As it happened, it was her brother's old home, and she waved at his mother, trying and failing to reach a smile as much as she did patience when she spotted them running. Coming up the path at a hurried sprint herself, she pulled up short to embrace Mitchell, not truly breathing until she could feel him in her arms. Then she pulled back to whack him. Fear still gripped her heart.* What were you thinking, goading them like that?! *Her eyes snapped to the wound, her hand slipping down to wrap tightly around it, keep pressure, holding his blood in. Breathing unsteady, she shut her eyes and exhaled her concern,* Oh Mitchell...

Mitchell: *They couldn't apparate until they were well past the town and the outlying farms which wouldn't be for another mile or so. Clutching at his arm made running difficult so he didn't, though he half heartedly cast a spell so the blood wouldn't stain the grass and lead Tyrelion towards them. Running up the farm, he almost stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Leah. How in the bloody hell did she get there? And what was- oh hello...wait, had he died? A corset twice in one year? He must surely have perished back there. As he was grabbed for a tight embrace, there was slight pain and he winced. No then, he was definitely not dead.* Oww! *he hissed, narrowing his eyes* Don't hurt me, I'm wounded! Arthur, have my back on this one! *he rubbed his head and then gritted his teeth as her hand slipped to hold his arm tightly.* I'll be fine. Just another scar to add to my collection, give me more character, make me more infamous, you know the deal. *he winced again. That really hurt.* We have to keep moving though, we're not safe until we've reached the forest. You're welcome to tag along, that outfit will distract me from my pain, I guarantee it.

Arthur: *Politely averting his eyes with a smirk still in place, he dug the last remaining roll out of his pocket and popped part of it in his mouth. His appetite had returned in full force; let them yell at him for keeping one little roll back.* He is wounded. *He agreed with his lips flicking up, reaching to pat his back.* And I have his back. *He patted, then yanked it back lest he get whacked by...well either of them really. He'd focus on the roll. And on walking ahead of them, for they were absolutely sure to bicker. Though one thing did seem to have changed; the casual intimate gestures of recent made it clear they had finally admitted everything and about damn time. He popped the rest of the room in his mouth, walking ahead.* 

Leah: *Her grip loosened as she felt him wince, biting her bottom lip. She was torn. The idea of causing him further pain was abhorrent, but she knew pressure had to be kept or he could bleed to death. Compromising by reaching for her hair and yanking the blasted ribbon out (thank the Lord), she lifted his arm without a word and wrapped it around to keep the spot covered, tying off before slipping her hand further down to lace her fingers with his. She barely heard Arthur honestly, her worry for Mitchell had seized in her throat, her heart wouldn't beat right. Lifting her eyes back to his, she leaned to kiss his cheek before she said plaintively, determined,* Be that as it may, that risk was foolish. *A little bit quieter.* And I'm not going anywhere, not on your life. You need to rest, that - *she gestures* - needs to be treated. *and even quieter* I'm not leaving you. *she clears her throat, rubbing red--red, blood from her hands onto the bottom of her skirt and finally forces out a tiny chuckle, adding much louder* So enjoy then. 

Mitchell: Nice job, Arthur *he rolled his eyes, oh so thankful to have his friend's back in all of this. He shook his head, partly to clear the pain but it didn't seem to work very well. Gritting his teeth again as she wrapped a ribbon, good Lord maybe he was dead after all. Squeezing her fingers as she laced them with his, glad for the quiet assurance.* No rest, not yet *his words were light but his meaning was not. He brought their hands up to kiss the back of hers and dropping them again...gingerly. He didn't really fancy moving his arm too much.* I will, think we can speed this up to a sprint again, now that would be a glorious sight indeed?

Leah: *As Mitchell gingerly raised their joined hands to his lips, Leah started in surprise. And then she swallowed, torn as ever between adoration and frustration. Clear pain in his eyes, she held her other hand up--sure, the bundle was tucked in the crook of her arm, but he could have just as easily kissed her there. Or her cheeks, red from the sun, or her lips, cracked open a tad so her tongue peeked through. But then, he wouldn't be Mitchell if he did anything else. And she was tempted to hit him again at the tease.* I'm sure it would be. *Playful as a response she could manage, given her fear.* Were I able to fully move and breathe without tearing this damn thi--wait, hold on, I'm supposed to look for disincentives. *And she knew they'd both enjoy it tearing.* Just...--*But they'd lingered too long, she could see over his shoulder the first guard. Damn how fast David could run.* This way! *She dropped his hand to take the other, squeezing and yanking him around the corner of Thomas' house. Walking carefully her hand over his mouth, she muttered annoyed,* Sh! Inside! *Arthur had darted into the woods--or so she thought, when she came face to face with him, and stepped on his toe by accident.* 

Arthur: Ah! *His nose wrinkled at the gasp of pain, about to ask whut that was for when Leah shushed him, had pressed both of them behind a door, shut it, and disappeared on the other side. Biting on his lip to take his mind off the pain, he looked sideways at Mitchell, promptly mouthing,* Never-leave-a-friend-behind. 

Leah: *A quick spell had ensured her hands clean of blood before she came out again, walking towards Sara. Her knees felt as though shaking in fear were the preferable option to approaching David, but she ignored their wishes. Heart thudding, parcel still in hand, a convincing smile crossed her lips as she waved to him* Oh...hello, David! ....er, would you find it impolite if I were to inquire why you're covered in wine?

Mitchell: *He wiggled his eyebrows, the idea of the corset tearing being much appealing but then again, Arthur was just a few feet ahead of them. Mitchell could trust Arthur with anything, except not to look if something like that did happen.* Maybe late- *he was cut off by her insistent remark and the tug on his arm. At least it was his healthy, uninjured arm, otherwise that would have been painful.* What's going o- *and now he was interrupted by a hand pressed against his mouth as he was shoved through a door, Arthur already there. Pursing his lips as Leah closed the door, he glanced at Arthur and then chuckled quietly at his mouthed words, clapping a hand on his shoulder before wincing and putting his ear against the door to listen better*

David: *Damn, outlaws, damn them all. This wasn't what he had signed up for, honestly. They've had minimal trouble for so long and now out of the blue, things got worse. Not to mention, his sides were bound to hurt after a while. Slowing to a stop as he spotted Leah, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion* I suppose not...*he huffed* outlaws' work. What are you- *no, never mind, that wasn't the question to ask right at that moment* they ran in this direction. Did you see which way they went?

Arthur: *smirking as Mitchell clapped his shoulder, he brushed against it on reflex. Karyn had ingrained a habit to not get things on his clothes as when little she would drag them from his trunk, clean and repair them, then prick him with the needle imploring he take better care of them. It was almost laughable now, considering the dirt, sweat, blood and forest had already put his tunic in shambles--but he'd reveal their whearabouts if he laughed.*

Leah: What am I...*she repeated the question he half asked her only for form, eyebrows knit together in the middle as she momentarily fought to keep her smile from becoming a smirk. She was glad it was David who'd come this way: he wasn't the brightest, if only because he had an irascible streak of kindness that try as he might, the Sheriff never had fully stamped out. It had been easy to play on to get him to send whiskey to Arthur in the cell, it would be easy to play on now.* Oh, I'm sorry...no, Sara and I were chatting inside. *She did not look back, knowing Sara would back her intrinsicly. Besides, they had chatted, when she was waiting to see if they did run this way: not a lie.* We saw something in the window-*she pointed to the woods and then laughed, gesturing to herself in correction* well Sara did, I did not believe her, I said there were no bears this far out-*she turned to Sara now to see Tom's mother grinning*-and that what she'd described could only be the work of one, only we came to see in case something was to approach the chicken coop. Oh, David, here. *Smoothly, all the while she had been talking she had stepped towards him, and now she pulled her handkerchief free to gesture he should bend down, wiping wine from dripping into his eyes before saying plaintively,* You know what, keep it. *There was a sparkle in her eyes, briefly imagining what color Mitchell's face would have just turned.* You could try that way she saw though...

David: *the mention of the other woman reminded David that she was indeed there. Inclining his head, he attempted a polite smile but how polite could he really be when he was out of breath and covered in wine?* Ma'am, good afternoon. *He turned back to Leah as she continued explaining, his eyes widening at the mention of a bear, looking around to the woods where she pointed. Oh, no, no bears just the look of...the work of bears. Okay, but he could take down a bear no problem, there was no reason for him to worry. Blinking repeatedly he smiled sheepishly as Leah got a handkerchief out, and wiped away the wine.* Oh, why thank you, Leah. *he took the handkerchief and wiped more wine from his eyes and then nodded* Yes, I-I think I shall. *he nodded his head* M'lady, -er, Ser, er, Leah. Yes. Have a good day. *He nodded again and started off, towards bears- outlaws. He didn't know which one he was more afraid of*

Mitchell: *Little git. Obviously, this David hadn't fallen on the floor hard enough. He turned to Arthur, whispering* Can you believe her? *Lips pursed, his arm still throbbing but completely forgotten for now, he waited until he couldn't hear running footsteps anymore, and then waited five more seconds before he came out through the door* Bears?

Arthur: *Oh, that was too amusing. But he did not walk like a bear.* A'ight mate? *He whispered back to Mitchell, still squishing himself against the wall to avoid the window. Mitchell's face was a funny color as he listened. Arthur almost pointed it out too, but he bit it back considering, well his mate had just been shot, would be poor of him to tease him.* 

Leah: *She nodded encouragingly, simply walking back to Sara with her fingers tugging strings of hair back behind her ear before bracing her arm on her hip. Her quiet murmur of gratitude to Sara was met with a head shake, an insistence not to mention it. Before she had a chance to respond, before David had been gone more than a minute, Mitchell had opened the door again, indignant. She rolled her eyes, hand hopping off her hip to gesture 'in' as she moved towards him* First thing that popped into my head! What are you doing?! In! *She pushes his shoulder, trying to avoid the injury, her panic flyaway as her hair.* There could be more coming this way! *Slipping in with him, Sara waving that she'd intercept if there were before walking herself towards the chicken coop, Leah finally let him go. And set the parcel down, opening it. Her eyes never left his, but a smirk spread across her lips as she replied evenly.* You have made the same amount of damage a bear would in that square anyway. 

Arthur: *protests amused* We did not. We made quite a bit worse of a mess than that. *Both eyebrows wiggle, a hand flapping: Lord he was hot, and sweaty.*

Leah: Oh for the love of God. *With a quick glance of her gaze down to pick through the different medicines, she pointed at Mitchell without looking back up.* You. Sit. *She pointed vaguely at the bed nearby.* Shirt off. 

Arthur: Wha--now? And not me? *Hands go up, which insures he's taking a step back from Mitch too,* Cut me, why don't you? 

Leah: *lifting up a needle, which she's threading, eyes narrowing at Arthur for a half second as she said sweetly,* Say that again and I will. 

Arthur: Right, yeh, *eying the needle*...I'll just wait in the other room, why don't I?

Mitchell: *Oh for bloody's sake- if he wanted to be pushed around he would have stayed living with his mother. He rolled his eyes and exhaled, moving back into the sodden house. Eyebrows rising as Leah opened the parcel she'd been carrying all this time.* Knew you'd be dealing with an injury, eh? *Oh the square was a right mess by the time they left it. They'd have to go back and help fix it another time. He would say preferably in the middle of the night with the help of magic but he was sure there had to be patrols in the middle of the night, especially now. Looking back up at Leah as she ordered him about, his lips twisted upwards in brief amusement.* As you wish. *He narrows his eyes at Arthur while he unties the ribbon first before taking off his shirt gingerly and still he couldn't help but wince a little.* Best idea you've had all day, Arthur. *he was half teasing the man. He sat down where Leah instructed, eyeing the needle with caution* Isn't there a spell to just...fix it all up, good as new?

Leah: Actually I was making a delivery for Adelina. I'll get her more later. *She didn't look up as Arthur winked and left. The prompt, teasing 'as you wish' made her head tilt, eyes meeting his. There was a smirk on her own lips in secret amusement, but dammit, she was supposed to be mad at him! Why was it he could make her smile so easily?* Thank you. *It was sweet, in the same tone as he'd used. She slowly slid the needle into a jar down through medicine to clean it, and hopefully aid numbing it. Well all right, she looked up as he took the shirt off. Eyes trailing up his torso, they darted back to the linen beneath her as he looked up too. Lifting the parcel up and sliding to sit next to him turned the other way, she sighed.* There might be, but the only spell I know of the like wouldn't account for potentially internal. *She bit her lip, looking at his shoulder, training her eyes to not wander.* It must be clean, or you'll take a fever. 

Mitchell: How fortunate. *He didn't like needles. He never liked needles, honestly, it was something him and Leah quickly found out they had in common when they were younger, even if it was for different reasons. He watched her as she sat down, frowning and sighing* Between a needle and a fever, I don't know which would be worse. *He licked his lips and then said casually* I know you're dying to look, go right ahead.

Leah: We're made of luck. *The dry, sarcastic comment fell from her smirk with ease. Lifting his arm with her finger tips gingerly, she rested  his wrist against her knee. The wound burned red beneath her gaze, maroon dropping on the cloth slow and steady. Her look did not waver: to say she had seen worse was an understatement. Taking a navy cloth - she'd have to get Sara a new towel for dishes later - she dipped it in the potion too, patting the area gingerly, thumbs pressed at opposing points to apply pressure. Only she paused at his words, and cast her glance up under her eyes.* I think we should focus, don't you? I'll be wielding a needle, remember? *And sewing wounds was the only type of needlework she had ever been good at.*

Mitchell: *He snorted at her statement. Oh, if only, really. Mitchell turned to look as she dipped the cloth in the potion and started cleaning the wound carefully, his wincing minimal for the moment, as if his body knew that something worse was soon to come. He had such a low threshold for pain sometimes, really.* -I- don't need to focus, I think a little unfocusing would do me better. *His lips twitch before he sits up straighter* Go on then, have at it.

Leah: *Well, he had her there, she had to admit. Cloth still poised an inch off his wound, she looked down at herself, hand reaching for the needle. Good God, it was hard to breathe already. After a slow and steady inhale, she promptly tugged on the laces to tighten further, perking the bodice and her chest. Without missing a beat, she instantly pierced the side of the skin, hand moving quickly back and forth to slip through, muttering an incantation under her breath to numb the area as she went. It wasn't a large tear, the repair steady. Eyes wide as she regarded it, she asked quieter, under her breath,* Are you ever going to stop giving me heart attacks?  

Mitchell: *His gaze which had been trying to focus on anything but the needle, and mostly failing, promptly followed the sudden lift of her tantalizing bosom. Mitchell was only a man after all. The next moment however, he yelled out an-* Oww! *Teeth gritted as he watches the needle eerily move through his skin. Looking back up at her eyes, his gaze traveling up slowly, his lips twitched* Probably not...how is this my fault exactly?

Leah: Oh keep still, baby. *Her wince hearing his pain was in her voice, but she kept her gaze locked on what she was doing, teeth gritting in empathy. He'd had worse though, she was sure of it, and it was easier to be sarcastic. Otherwise she'd be forced to think that she was hurting him, stop instantly, and somehow expect that hugging him tightly would heal all wounds.* I don't know. Just is. *It was. And he should feel worse about how absolutely terrified she was. Her lips flicked in a tiny smile at the thought, betraying herself. Cutting the edge of the thread with a wordless spell, she lowered the needle and started tying, teasing.* You're the one who keeps putting yourself in danger. Can't you just go play your lute somewhere in France?

Mitchell: Hurts. *he muttered under his breath with a little pout, pulling his bottom lip in his mouth as he watched her hands her first. Despite her constant handling of a sword all these years, Leah's hands remained soft. Chuckling a little as the explanation turned out to be a simple 'because I said so.'* What, and leave you all alone and destitute? With idiots and bastards for company, no I don't think so.

Leah: Oh it hurts? When you deliberately aggravate and play with the guards? *Never mind the fact she technically had done that too with David. She held his gaze, then tightened the tie suddenly to close it. Smile perking up as much as her chest did at his pout, she looked back down and added unconvincingly,* Sorry. *Her breath was still shallow. When she left she was ripping the damn thing off. (She ignored the fact that she couldn't, as the receptions would continue that night and she would once again be expected to be in proper court attire to greet incoming guests for Joseph's wedding. Oh. She would need a new ribbon, right. Cause there...was blood on this one now. Who cared, it was red already, all right?) Holding the tie with her finger, she said primly,* Destitute? I'd still have plenty of money. *Shrugging a shoulder, still holding the loose tie in place, she picked up the cloth again to catch a stray drop of blood.* Besides, who said I was staying behind? *It was casual, examining the wound closely.* 

Mitchell: No, when I get shot with an arrow and then have to have my skin sewn up like a piece of leather, that hurts- oww! *his gaze shot down to the stitches, frowning at the little knot she had made and tightened, purposefully he thought if that little 'sorry' had anything to say about it.* But you wouldn't have me, your most basic necessity of life. *he teased and then smiled softly, honestly, at her small question* And what would you do in France, love? Clean wounds?

Leah: *With nothing but a coy smile on her lips still as she finished tying, an eyebrow raised. She repeated it, still looking down.* Ahh, right, that. My soul would be destitute. *His question seemed to make her hear what she had said too. It was a basic fact to her that if he left, she would go with him. As she wrapped the bandages around, she shrugged a shoulder. Pointed,* Apparently. *She held his gaze.* If you have anything to say about it that's what I'll be doing. *And tightened the bandage again, both eyebrows wiggling.* But doesn't matter. I'd come even if I was honestly destitute, Mitch.

Mitchell: Are you insinuating I might have a say in it? Leah how generou- *the 's' at the end of the word came out as a brief hiss as she tightened the bandage. Now she was just being cruel, surely. Licking his lips, he matched her gaze once more. He was momentarily seized by a want to ask her if she would come with him now if he asked her too before he remembered himself. Pursing his lips, he wiggled his eyebrows and then gestured back to the bandage* Not gun' kiss it better?

Leah: *As he cut himself off to hiss, she released his arm, dropping her hands with her gaze to the open parcel. The coy smile was back on her lips. Eyes sparkling as she looked back up at the request, she mused,* Is it really that extraordinary? My kiss? *Both eyebrows wiggle as she fixes the top of her dress again, much more at ease now that she knew there was medication on the closed wound. She lifted free a vial while wrapping the package up again, repeating in her earlier tone of command,* Drink.

Mitchell: Put it to the test...*He really needed to stop being so distracted by her chest, but it really wasn't his fault when she was just flaunting- she was flaunting it. Oh bugger, he should have carved out Tyrelion's eyes. Looking up at the vial as she handed it to him, his eyes narrowed in curiosity but he knew better than to go against that tone. He sighed* As you command. *he winked before throwing the potion back, wincing noiselessly at the taste of it.* That's foul.

Leah: *He had that lopsided smirk again, amused at the world. Why that was so attractive to her, she had no idea. Her nose wrinkled as she held his gaze arching an eyebrow, only smiling when he downed it. Pleased, she nodded at the words he chose to use.* I did. *She couldn't help it, she enjoyed that. All right, now she was thinking she should cover her chest if only because she was sure there was a red flush beginning to creep down her neck: her eyes had trailed down his torso again. It wasn't her fault; the sunlight flooding through the window was hitting him now, and usually there was nothing but moon and a fireflies. Swallowing once, her gaze lifted back to his eyes, shrugging.* Less foul than you passing out on me. *Slowly, very slowly, she licks her bottom lip and adds softer, playful,* How long is this listening to me going to last? 

Mitchell: *He snorted at the thought of him passing out before he realized he had passed out before and it was her own doing- they had just been talking about this no less than half an hour ago. Shrugging at her playful question, he tilted his head, leaning a little closer to her* Well with a little incentive I could be persuaded to keep it going for a bit.

Leah: *Arching an eyebrow as he leaned in, her already shallow breath caught in her throat. She snapped her jaw up and held steady, eyes locked on his* You know, I think if I have to incentivize further, *she tilts her head and leans a little closer to him to, amused* Then it really isn't me in charge, is it? *

Mitchell: *he grins slowly for a moment, and afterwards sticks out his cheek with his tongue before shaking his head exaggeratedly from side to side* No, I don't see the logic in that whatsoever.

Leah: *Mming, under her breath as he shook his head, her grin widened.* Imagine my shock. *Her hand lifted to his cheek, cupping it and holding steady, if only so he wouldn't make himself too dizzy. Her thumb trailed over his lips before she confessed,* Actually, imagine me anyway you like. I have a wonderful image from today you know. *She presses her lips together, saying lighter even if ever quieter,* Saw you with Ben. 

Mitchell: If you keep wearing outfits like these, you won't leave much for my imagination, love. *He grinned wide, but the expression softened as she mentioned seeing him with Hettie's youngest little boy. He chuckled, nodding* He's a good lad. Esther tells me he could be quite the mathematician. In Esther speak that probably means he can count more than his fingers and toes. *he grins*

Leah: Oh no--this is not, going to keep happening. *She groaned, dropping his cheek to lean to fix the top again, wiggling back and forth just to try and loosen so she could bloody breathe. While still mid-wriggle her smile softened suddenly even as she teased,* Ah, so more than you can then anyway. Impressive. *She looked back up, letting out a sigh, smile tightening as she starts to ask-* Will I--*But she cuts herself off. Then straightens her back, holding his gaze with the smirk lifted, using the same commanding tone as before.* I will see you tonight. 

Mitchell: Certainly not for the whole world to see, no, I quite agree. *he nodded importantly before wiggling his eyebrows as she started fussing with her corset again. Dear God, that was just tantalizing. He only caught half of what she had said* Yes, impressive...*What was impressive exactly? Oh right. Straightening his back as well when she does, he inclines his head to answer back* I will anxiously await your visit.

Leah: *At his amendment to her statement she laughed -- honest, full and bright, looking at him with exasperation that could only be overcome by how endearing she found it. Teasing,* You are aware that I had to put it on to receive some guest of Joseph's? The Armands are back at court for his upcoming wedding. *And after the Armands she may have checked out mentally and utterly stopped paying attention to who she was greeting. Not being able to breathe was distracting! Her grin only widening as he agreed with her, she decided not to tell him he had, too amused, nodding at the prompt answer. She'd spoken again without realizing it.* Tell me what you're imagining. 

Mitchell: Love, with the view you're giving me, you should be surprised that I'm aware of anything else. *he laughed once, not even realizing he had missed the detail 'wedding'. Probably because most of the shock of the union had mostly faded by now, mostly. In reality...it was because he didn't care that much. He had more worrying things to focus on, so unless Etta and Joseph were going to serve muggleborn hearts for their wedding dinner, it wasn't exactly on his wavelength. Looking back up at her next request, he grinned again* Right here, right now, with Arthur in the next room possibly overhearing? *he licked his lips* Risky.

Leah: *Typical. Aggravating. ...Mitchell. Her chest felt exceedingly heavy under his gaze as she worked for breath against the constraints of metal and man. She thought his gaze more constricting.* The only thing that surprised me, love, was that I told you I would be wearing this around other men and you did not immediately rip it off. *Her gaze flitted over the bandage hesitant, amending.* One handed. *Eyes locking on his, she only nodded, ignoring Arthur's name entirely as she repeated, now purposefully commanding and heady,* Right here, right now. 

Mitchell: That's because I'd rather render them all blind. *he nodded, lips pursed in smug satisfaction before he chuckled under his breath. Inhaling deeply and exhaling the exact same way, he relented as his fingers rubbed circles on the back of her hand* I was imagining letting your hair down first, and brushing out those curls, they're my favorite. I was imagining kissing my way down your throat, turning that skin a lovely shade of pink with my tongue....ravaging the top of those breasts, well before getting you out of it, but I would get you out of it because then I'd lie you back on the bed...isn't it nice to have a bed? *he licked his lips slowly* then my mouth would travel down your chest and stomach, tracing swirls and teeth dragging down..and down...*he tilted his head* should I continue, my love?

Leah: *The pleased and incredulous chuckle died off in her throat as his thumb started rubbing circular, pad against her palm. Oh that little--the mere thought of what he could be touching instead  in such a manner burned her cheeks hot. Eyes narrowing with determination to keep the flushing minimal, breath became non-existent as her lips pressed together tighter, tighter, tighter. Bare nod of agreement - yes she did like the idea of a bed - not withstanding, the thuds of her heart echoing in her ears, her response was free of tension.* Hm. Should I tell you what I was imagining? *It was just her body then, that was taut in every which way; her voice was teasing light, a lilt beneath her smirk.* It starts much the same actually...your lips plundering the soft skin at my neck's nape, the shell of my ear, the ring of my throat. Only, *She leans a little closer, breath hot against his lips,* then I lay -you- back on the mattress, straddle you while you rip this damn thing off and down, your kisses trailing lower and lower, while I slowly lean down, down, until we're nose to nose and then I slide forward on my knees until you're kissing, languishing, plundering a very different set of pink lips. *Both eyebrows wiggle, her breath against his mouth hot and dragging. Waiting a long moment she breathes out again, remembering herself,* Of course I was supposed to ensure you did not, get feverish. Shame. *She pecks his lips once, and then pulls back suddenly, calling out,* Arthur! 

Damocles: Yes, please show him in. *He was standing at the window of his study, one hand on a cup of tea and the other wrapped gently around the rim of his chair arm.Hearing Nathanial move towards the door once more he took a steadying swig of tea. Of his relatives, Cyrus was the one he had the strange feeling he respected both the most and least at once -- but he did trust him, and he trusted few now. Smiling briefly as he entered he nodded to dismiss Nathanial and said simply,* Good morning. Do you want a cup of tea? *he gestured to the pot still steaming on the cart. He was startled to realize that he had never seen such an impeccably well-dressed and proper man look so worn in his life - but this was not about that. Damocles knew that in the court there were precious few who he could rely on and honestly - whatever his disapproval of Cyrus' actions with his family lately, did not sum the man up anymore than a singular good action did. He respected the man for nearly every other aspect of his life.* Thank you for coming, Cyrus. I appreciate it. 

Cyrus: *He didn't trouble himself with trying to guess what exactly Damocles had summoned him for. Thinking, he found, was something that grew progressively more difficult to accomplish for all his thoughts seemed to want to quickly veer to one subject. Cyrus, however, would not allow himself to appear as distraught as he felt. His suit was tailored perfectly, his shoes polished- every single detail of his appearance was remarkably and thoroughly clean as it always had been. He carried himself proudly as he walked inside Damocles' study. Smiles never came easy for Cyrus, now that was more true than ever, but a pleasant expression he achieved easily.* Yes, thank you. *He had no interest in tea, but it was proper etiquette and Cyrus was a man of propriety, especially now...now it was all he had left.* Of course. *As if he would refute a direct invitation from his reigning Lord.* What can I do for you, my lord?

Damocles: Excellent. *As he poured the tea himself, he did so as much because he could pour his own blasted tea as he did intentionally with the purpose of offering both a gesture of friendship and respect. Lifting it to offer to him, his lips flicked up easily a moment at the title -- he had learned long ago it was more an insult to Cyrus to try and tell him to call him by his Christian name and now, well, he kind of appreciated the courtesy.* If I may be frank, *he nodded - yes he could be -* Cyrus, I trust you and there are few I do at this present moment. *He looked at him steadily through a sip, a gasp, and another thin smile.* As such, I would appoint you to be my defensive councilor. If you would accept. Truth be told you were always my first choice - circumstances simply did not allow me to ask until now. I know it is asking a lot... *By that, he thought to himself that he meant there was the possibility of seeing Frederick in town, but he said nothing of that.*

Cyrus: *He took the offered cup with a soft nod before taking a sip. The tea wasn't scalding hot but it did manage to burn his tongue a little. He had never learned not to, but he had long ago to not show it. The very same thing could be said for every aspect of his life, really. Nodding, knowing that even if he didn't Damocles would speak as he wished, as it was his right to do. He was surprised to hear the honesty of the statement, a bit more than surprised. Cyrus didn't know what exactly he had done to gain Damocles' trust. The next words were even more surprising, and his cup paused in mid air en route to his lips. After a few brief moments, he collected himself, lowering the cup.* My lord, I'm...I'm honored *But hesitant. Councilor of Defense, the position had a lot of responsibility, especially now at this time. He had no training for such a position, and he doubted the Sheriff (in nothing but name anymore) would be of much help. He almost voiced his concerns out loud, almost, but Damocles had already revealed to have little trust in anyone else, and he would not act rashly to appoint him if he didn't think Cyrus was right for the job. The problem was of course, he would need to be in town. But that was his problem, not Damocles, and one brought on by himself so he would handle the consequences. This would be more, was, more important than his personal feelings* I would be honored to accept it my lord, but if I may be so bold as to ask...why do you trust me? *Why do you trust me when no one else does anymore, was the unspoken question, one he disdained to admit even to himself.*

Damocles: *Waiting patiently, his expression cleared visibly but for only a moment - it was all he could allow of himself to show. Momentarily sick at the thought that he knew Cyrus would understand, he cleared his throat by taking another sip of his own fine china.* I'm not trying to honor you. *There was a bitter little chuckle, as he shrugged.* I'm trying to get you to help me. *Sticking one hand in his pocket, a brow arched high as he continued. This time he couldn't help his surprise, nor his twinge of sorrow. Of course he trusted him, he thought, how many times did the man have to prove he put duty above everything? But he didn't want to say that - it seemed unkind, phrased that way. Slowly,* You have never broken your word to me. I asked you for your help in a situation that disagreed with both of us almost twenty years ago and you have stayed true to every facet. This post requires strict adherence to the proper chain of command which, you haven't ever disrespected. And because Cyrus...I've known you over twenty years, and not once have I seen you do anything to undermine or humiliate me even when we disagree, and however it seems, I've always liked you a little more than I think you knew.

Cyrus: Nevertheless, it is how I feel. *An honor, yes, and another duty. A small part of him told himself that he was well within his right to refuse the post, but Cyrus could not, and would not, do it. Quickly, he realized what Damocles meant by his answer: Cyrus was good at following orders. He couldn't help a small smirk at that, though there was no amusement in it, or if there was only the one that came from his own version of irony. He nodded briefly, taking another sip of the tea before looking back again at Damocles.* I will do everything in my power to help you, my lord. *He was about to add "I will not let you down" before he realized in similar ironic amusement, that was a promise he couldn't make anymore.* When would you have me begin?

Damocles: Thank you, Cyrus. *He chuckled once, saying lightly,* So nothing on whether or not you like me beyond that title then? *But how used to that was he? His small grateful smile flicked wider before he said simply,* Two weeks. I wish to appoint you publicly, and I know how much your daughter's wedding means first: so the day following. *He breathed out, undeniably pleased that Cyrus had accepted and takes another sip, his back to the window.*

Lucy: Rick! *Outside on the grounds, she chuckled through her admonishment, unable to keep herself from smiling. His arm was still around hers. They were approaching the actual building now - something that Lucy desperately wished she could further accompany him within, but refused to focus on now. Squeezing his shoulder back, her lips momentarily mashed to his shoulder in retaliation, she nonetheless is grinning wide as she mutters,* What if someone had heard you say that? Would you be quote-unquote defending my virtue even though it was you who brought it up?

Cyrus: *Chuckling in more surprise than amusement as Damocles spoke lightly in a small tease, he realized then how difficult laughter had become as well.* Are you searching for a compliment my lord? *Smirking, no matter how restrained it might have been, was by far much easier. Nodding, grateful for the timing, his expression nevertheless lightened however briefly at the mention of Marietta. His eldest daughter, her wedding mere days away...he could scarcely believe it. As he nodded, his gaze was then caught to a couple he saw outside the window, his entire body rigid.*

Frederick: *a small smirk grazed his lips the moment Lucy admonished him, or rather tried to. It gave away then to a quick grin, focusing on her for he would need a miracle to walk through those halls and not kill someone for one wrong word said in a whisper. He had on the clothes that he had left court in, though they were nowhere near as orderly now, which...he had to admit, rather preferred. He didn't want to make it seem like he was coming back, though undeniably there would always be rumors. He had a folder of everything he prepared for the proposal and he was confident...a little nervous, but confident. He was him, after all.* Then I hope they'd have the good sense to feign being deaf. *he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at her before leaning in to kiss her once, pausing his steps.* Alright *he pulled on his tie, straightening out and winked at Lucy* How do I look?

Cyrus: *The difference between the Frederick than had spat on his face and left the manor with the one that was approaching it now was so great that for a split second he hadn't been sure if it was really him. Expecting to find anger or rancor, he was astoundingly surprised at the absent of them. He was transported back almost twenty years ago when Florence had come to his study to speak in Garrett's defense. "When was the last time you saw him this happy" had been her question regarding their brother. Now he was faced with a similar dawning comprehension; he didn't think he had seen Frederick that happy in his entire 23 years. Clearing his throat, he turned to Damocles again, placing the cup of tea on the table* If that is all, my lord, I have some matters to attend to today.

Damocles: If I am, could you blame me? My ego has taken a few hits lately. *Startled how easily the words left his small smile, he shrugged. About to say something else, he paused seeing the man go rigid. It was true that he'd rarely seen him smile, but the look on his face suddenly - had he seen the man look heartbroken for a flash?*

Lucy: Entirely too perfect. *She responded at once with her own lopsided grin, one arm still around his waist. She knew very well why she did not want to let him go. They were now mere feet from a building that represented too much: tradition, pride, grandeur, loss, his family. Reaching up to straighten his collar around the tie - she had done her best to help him clean these clothes twice - there was a small grin on her lips.* Almost. *She straightened it, then leaned in to kiss him herself. The moment their lips met she easily forgot where they were.*

Damocles: *A single glance out the window had explained things, and his face clouded with conflicted emotions. Tempted an instant to order Cyrus to stay here and fetch Frederick so that they would be at least forced to speak, he had softened by the time he turned back and nodded.* Of course. Thank you, Cyrus. Genuinely.

Lucy: *finally pulling back, she asked softly herself,* Are you ready? I'll wait for you...

Mitchell: *with a hood covering most of his face, he peered around a house towards the market, making sure there were no guards about the town, either Sheriff's or Damocles. After making sure there was none, he looked back at Arthur, and grinned wide* Our fans are waiting. *He took the bag of food off his shoulders and opened it, inside there being small individually wrapped parcels for them to hand out.*

Arthur: Eager, ain't they? *He chuckled, for despite the milling towns folk, they'd been spotted already the moment the bag opened. A half-second ago he'd been asking Mitch to remind him again why they were giving their limited food again. As he saw the delight on a kid's face -- one of Hettie's brood -- though he thought to himself what a fine idea this was.* There you go mate. Help you grow big and strong. *The little boy's eyes were wide up at him as hot-hands covered the parcel and he nodded shyly. Tickled, Arthur gestured sideways to Mitchell as he added,* Even bigger than my friend here. 

Ben: *giggles, though he holds the parcel close to his chest and shakes his head.* You're Mitchell Stone. *There's awe in his voice, exhaled through a smile.*

Arthur: Aw-oi, hey? *He gestured to himself in exaggeration of hurt. It made Ben giggle again.* 

Mitchell: *passing another parcel to a few other people as they came up, turning back to look at Arthur and Ben as he was mentioned, grinning wide and nodding* Yeah, I am. *He knelt down to Ben's height* And you're Ben right? *He briefly recalled Esther saying something about him, but honestly Esther and his mum spoke about all of their students* You look strong already, Ben!

Ben: *His wide-eyed gaze looked over Mitchell's arms as he knelt down, beaming that he knew him already.* Yah! *He nodded repeatedly.* Your sister is nice.  

Arthur: *he snorts, rubbing his upper arm.* Not to me. *It was muttered under his breath good-natured, chuckling as he pulled another parcel free.* 

Ben: *He pointed at the parcel in his hand, looking between them, holding himself up properly to say carefully,* Thank you very much. 

Arthur: *he chuckles again and nods, leaning over to ruffle his hair* Ah, it's nothing mate. Just doing what's right. *If improper, but he wasn't thinking about that.* 

Ben: *Eyes still wide he nodded at Arthur before he looked back to Mitchell, honest as only children could be.* Can you really shoot three arrows at once in one bulls'ye?

Mitchell: *he chuckles, unable to help but agree with Arthur about Esther but he didn't say that out loud; didn't wanna scare the little tyke away from school.* You're very welcome! *he grinned, reaching behind him to hand another parcel out with a soft "cheers, mate" before turning back to Ben. Laughing a little at the question* Sure I can! *With a little help from magic but, details* It's why I'm the leader. Arthur's always been jealous. 

Ben: *He smiled wide, mouth wide open* Can you show me?

Arthur: Oi, jealous? Oh, p--*He paused, remembering very suddenly how young Ben was and cut himself off with a breath by forcibly rubbing his hand over his lips. Oh. Smelled like the chicken. Delicious. He dropped the hand, looking back at Ben instead.* Hey Ben. Why don't you ask him about when Leah knocked him out cold for a half hour?

Ben: *blinks in confusion, but he's still grinning* Leah?

Arthur: *Hand going over his heart* While I, was ultimately unharmed. *Because he went up the tree. But details.* 

Mitchell: After we're done handing out all of the food, sure. *grinning in amusement as Arthur cuts himself off, after it was Mitchell's turn to protest*Oi! Don't tarnish my reputation. *He rolled his eyes, passed another parcel before looking back at Ben* Leah, she's- *hmm he couldn't say part of the gang because you never knew, and she certainly more than his friend, an argument could be made that she was always more than that*-- she's my girl. But really, the one at fault ere is Arthur- he ran up a tree! And you know the most important rule about friends? *he paused for effect* You never leave a friend behind.

Ben: Really? *Mouthing 'wow' under his breath he tried to draw himself up taller with the honor.*

Arthur: *He winked. He meant to wink at Mitchell, but now honestly he had to admit that he'd seen Annemarie over Mitchell's shoulder, in her usual state of exasperation. And oh, she was walking near Luce. He waved at her too until she waved back, her grin sheepish.* 

Ben: Your girl? *The repeat was one of confusion, but as Mitchell continued he just started nodding in agreement.* I don't! *earnest* I swear.

Arthur: Oi, I didn't leave 'im behin--*he turns back, rolling his eyes. Only then he sees just past Annemarie a very familiar back.* All right, Ben. *nodding, he leaned over to give him a high five* Tell your Mum I miss her, all right?

Ben: *Had leaped up to hit his hand, and then turned shyly back to Mitchell, holding his hand up to high five his too before scampering off, holding the food tight.*

Arthur: I didn't leave you! Came right back down. Soon as I made sure Leah wasn't gonna hit me too. Whut good would I have been to you knocked out beside you? *promptly smacks the back of Mitchell's head with a grin* And oi, come on leader, might want to go this way instead. Bastard hanging around...noon? *Eh, he wasn't the best with the clock.* Near the butchers. Where Lucy is right now. 

Mitchell: *he high fived Ben too, scruffing up his hair before the lad dashed off. Cute kid, he had to admit it. Standing up again and turning to Arthur as he started his yapping.* It's the principle of the thing, Arth- Oi! *he rubs his head where Arthur hit it, muttering something under his breath before he stood up straighter, his eyes narrowing, knowing who it was before he saw him* I can get an arrow in between his eyes right now. *But, he wouldn't. For many reasons that weighed heavily on his mind, no matter how much he wanted to, Mitch couldn't do it. Damn.* Let's walk around then, try to finish the deliveries first. *he closed the bag again and heaved it over his shoulders*

Arthur: Principle of the thing, yeh, a'right. *He snorted, pointing out easily,* cause we're such men of principles. *Scooting sideways to follow Mitchell after narrowing his eyes as he saw him, he snorted and couldn't help but mutter,* Whut's stopping you? *Oh he knew what was, wrinkling his nose and rubbing under it as they slipped down a different alley. A grin reappeared, hearing a 'God bless you!' called at their backs.* We're like heroes now, huh? Course, what I wanna know is why I give the kid the food and it's still you he goes to. Like I'm chopped liver, innit? 

Mitchell: *snorts, wishing there was nothing stopping him to tell the truth. He always suspected Tyrelion's involvement, but after Arthur's capture, he knew that beyond a doubt. He couldn't focus on that right now, he would surely do something foolish that would damage the good progress they had made. Grinning a little at Arthur's question, he wiggled his eyebrows at his friend* Because I'm the bowman prodigy. Do something of note and maybe your name will be remembered. *he heads to an alley between two houses and puts down the bag again* Were going to have to give these personally, hide in the crowd. You up for it?

Arthur: *repeating incredulous with a wide grin* The bowman prodigy? You and your nephew, both of yer- *he laughs* sorry, the legendary born-of-dragon - geesh, impossible. *He laughed at Mitchell's question, utterly ignoring the fact that he doubted very much his name wasn't known by now. After...nope, he was ignoring it. Smirk wide, he nodded, gesturing Mitchell should toss him the parcels and catching them with ease. Well, he might have juggled them a bit. Sue him for having fun.* Up for it- *he snorted. Hooking his hands around a post, he fluttered his hood back up, crouched like a frog on a barrel.* Live for it. 

Willas: Optimistic of you. *The words were dry through a smirk, black leather-clad arms folded on his chest. He had even given the woman who called after them a copper - he was being generous, pleased to have some idea of where they were in the town. God bless them indeed.* 

Arthur: *A truly ugly look passed through his smirk to see him, but only for an instant. Breath hot, knuckles white on the rim of his barrel.* You know there's a circle of hell reserved for those who interrupt with good Samaritins like us.

Willas: *That was rich.* Should have gotten away, you know. *He shrugged. Shouldn't be surprised they stuck around -- even, he had heard, had the town cheering his name, instead of being smart. Made his job easier, certainly. The glare he wore was one he reserved for Stone. He wasn't alone, and it wasn't like they could go anywhere: he could have some fun.* King of the Mules now though, aren't you?

Mitchell: *Turning immediately as he heard that ugly, crawling, slimy voice behind them, his resultant glare was immediate. He might have even casted a spell if he weren't for the countless of people just ten feet away who had no idea about the existence of magic. They had just reclaimed good standing, he wouldn't lose it by practicing magic in public and forever being referred to as the son of the devil.* Better than being the Sheriff's errand boy, Tyrelion. Don't worry though, I'm sure they'll let you sit at the grown up table soon. *he glanced sideways at Arthur, making sure to catch his eye before looking at the parcels of food in their hands. They had a brief chance to create the distraction and then run for it, through the middle of town, so Tyrelion and his pack or dogs would be forced to not use magic as well* I'll even invite you to my table: as the main course.

Arthur: *He chuckles the moment Mitchell spoke, more so to keep his smirk lifted than in actual amusement. Though really, Mitch, that was a good one.* Probably not that soon. *He countered with a shrug, clenching his back teeth and half-spitting out,* Have to stop wetting your bed first.

Willas: *Charming, weren't they? He took another step forward, shaking his head back and forth over his crossed arms before looking back up. His smirk unmoved, he held a finger up.* Keep making jokes, Stone. *His eyes were still on his, hardly looking to Bridges. Evenly, his smirk tightened only a tad as he continued.* Amuse yourself, you have to be used to that for -- Leah's sitting with me. 

Arthur: *Keeping a hand lifted, the parcels were balanced atop his knee as he nodded, seemingly in accord to his remark as he whistled,* Phew. Knew you were crazy, but mentioning her...*He tossed the parcels up to show he understood Mitchell juggling: one, two, three.* 

Mitchell: *Arrow in between his eyes. Mitchell could picture it even then, as easily as he saw everything else. Smirking still, though his glare hardened, he shifted his weight onto foot and the tilted his head* Huh, and she manages to keep her food down near such a disgusting sight? Oh! Of course, she doesn't eat around you, just keeps sipping that wine. Personally, I'd need something a lot stronger to ignore your repulsive self. *As he talked he made sure to move the parcels in his hand to a better position. He had to distract the other two guards as well though* How about them? Are they invited to these illustrious dinners? *he raises an eyebrow* Or do they help you afterwards? Who holds the bollocks and who wipes his arse, fellas?

Willas: *He knew he should focus on where Stone was walking, what his hands were doing -- so uncivilized a way of fighting, honestly, yet part of him was distracted. Leah actually had accepted his invitations for an evening drink more readily. But she spent dinner with her comrades, when not on patrol...Stone was just spewing words now, jealous. It would serve him better to say nothing, Stone's words were not worth his time. He scowled.*

Arthur: *He cupped his ear, smirk dropping open.* Eh? What was that? Mitchell, I think you've stumped him. Maybe smaller words?

Willas: *He clenched his teeth, finally looking at Bridges and forcing his words to be light still.* Tell me, how is your sister?

Arthur: *He whistled again, letting out a laugh.* Well, she'll be a lot better when I bring her your head. 

Willas: *Scowl deepening, he didn't look to the guards who had joined them as his frustration finally just burst out, and he yelled,* Take them!  

Arthur: *Sizing up the two guards with a look he realized he recognized one as the man who had brought him whiskey in the cell. He should return the favor then.* Mates! *And he hopped off the barrel with force to kick it over, wood crashing into the stone, sea of scarlet pouring out. There was a pause, for he had to savor the image of wine drenching that fine and fancy outfit of Willas', before he scampered. He darted, zipping into the crowd, leaping over stalls, behind racks of spices that made his mouth water even at high speed, through one person's sheet he was nearly tangled in and at one point up against the back of Bertha. It was a decent hiding place until her frying pan came out and he ducked again. Arrows were whizzing over his shoulder, but Arthur kept his self focused, stopping dead cold in front of Lucy again.* Hello, luv. *Seeing now who she stood beside -- well, who had actually grabbed her waist to pull her in protectively -- Arthur just laughed, tipped his head at Rick as if he was tipping a hat, and pushed one of his parcels into Lucy's hands.*

Lucy: Arthur Daniel Brid--

Arthur: *He was off again before she'd had time to finish, though he heard over his shoulder 'Look out!' and was much obliged. Bertha's frying pan was preferable to Gregor if he saw Arthur tumble into Alice.*

Mitchell: *Tyrelion's way of taunting was such a cowardly play. Stabbing at the point that hurt them the most- oh how very clever. What that bastard didn't realize was that a reminder of Karyn to Arthur, or of Leah to him, wasn't a distraction, it was a focus point. But seeing as how Tyrelion had no one in his life, he wouldn't understand. Oh, he almost said that out loud too. But the time was getting near, any second now...any second now...aha! He threw the parcels of food at their groins with a little help from magic of course, and picked up the bag of food, swinging it around to knock them away before hurrying off, making sure to keep Arthur in his sights. He threw the food up in the air, towards the children, the women, the shopkeepers, random passerbyers, his mother- his mother?!*

Arleen: Mitchell!!

Marietta was, in every single aspect of her life, a predator. In the ministry she ran down her prey, tracked them down quick and agile, backing them into a corner before she went in for the kill. Ministry officials looked on flabberghasted as she revealed to them information they previously had thought was safe and buried, and used it against them where it hurt them most.  At court, she was a sly and coy creature, circling and lulling the others into a false sense of security, of trust. Sometimes she would allow the game to go on for ages, until it suited her best to reveal her disinterest, her judgement, their worth and value to her, and then leave them behind. In bed, Marietta played with her food. She chased them, snapped her teeth playfully over their ankles while she did. She wrestled, tugged at hair, tugged at strings and tugged at laces. Perfectly manicured nails raked down across skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake. Teeth dragged across sensitive buds, tongue tantalizing as it explored every inch of salty skin available. Her pray writhed underneath Marietta, sighing her name in pleasure, almost like a prayer. Etta reveled in the feeling as the rapid and shallow breaths caressed her ear, as she worked her fingers in and out, curling and twisting. Her mouth lavished the skin behind the younger girl’s ear, earning her delicious little gasps that Etta stored in memory for a rainy day. Marietta drew back, moving against her thigh, her eyes closing in the shock of pleasure the friction provided. They fluttered open again, determined to watch the younger girl, her prey, reach her peak. Her breath began to hitch, her hips lifted off the mattress and thrust with Marietta’s movements, seeking more of her hand. Her thumb rubbed circles against her pleasure, a hand twisting a pink bud on the ample chest, and Etta was treated to the beautiful face of her young lover living through ecstasy. Marietta smirked, and once the girl had stopped moving, removed her fingers and took them into her mouth, licking them clean. A coy grin spreading across her face as she heard a soft moan below her again, Etta leaned down to kiss her softly, tracing her tongue around the inside of her mouth. Marietta crawled forward and pulled back as her thighs slid to either side of the woman’s head. Wetting her lips in anticipation, Etta suddenly looked up as she heard a knock on the door, her eyes narrowing in displeasure. “M’lady?” the shy voice of her maid was heard. Voices and noises could be heard inside coming from the outside, but nothing that was inside of the room could be heard outside of it. At least, not until Marietta lifted the spell. “I thought I instructed not to be disturbed-” she gasped, her hips canting forward when a spark of pleasure seemed to shoot up her spine as the woman under her decidedly ignored the interruption. Biting on her lip, her eyes narrowed playfully before she sighed silently in pleasure again, and spoke louder. “Whatever it is, Julie, it can wait until tomorrow.” “I’m sorry, m’lady, it is your uncle and he is most impatient.” “Fuck,” she whispered under her breath as a hand not so pale as hers slid up her chest and took a pink nipple between its fingers. Damn her uncle to the farthest reaches of the earth. She huffed out frustrated and gripped the tan wrist, stopping it despite every fiber of her being wanting otherwise. “Did he say what he wanted?” “No, m’lady, only that he was most desperate to see you.” And I am most desperate myself, she thought before gasping again and seizing tight brown curls and tugging the girl’s head away from her sharply, her eyes narrowed in the promise of retribution. She got off the bed and picked up her nightgown before slipping it on.  “Tell him I shall be out shortly.” After that she waved the wards back in place and headed towards her mirror to assess her state. Well, at least he’d interrupted them at the beginning, though Etta was not the only one frustrated. As she brushed her hair, she saw a mass of brunette hair behind her standing up, pout already forming. “You could have sent him away.” “So much time dealing with Brackners and you’ve yet to figure out our fundamental trait?” Marietta raised eyebrows at the girl through her mirror, picking up a brush and taming her red locks. “We get what we want.” “And what I want does not matter?”  It was a tease, but Marietta simply shrugged before she answered simply, “It’s inconsequential to us, yes.” She dropped the brush again before standing and turning around. “Oh, go find a cock, Eva. I know you prefer them, anyways.” Eva smirked, shrugging her shoulders lazily as she began dressing. “Is that jealousy I hear, darling?” Marietta chuckled as she slipped on a robe above before her nightgown, tying the turquoise robe tight around her waist. It was nighttime after all, and she had been sleeping, so if it offended her uncle, he would just have to find a way to deal. “Not in the slightest,” she moved to help Eva with her corset, taking the laces from the girl’s hands into her own. Tugging hard and sharp, she pulled Eva closer to her with that single movement, the breath leaving her slight frame in one exhale, chest lifting suddenly. A long arm wrapped around Eva’s slender waist, another hand grabbing her jaw and neck firmly but with all the care in the word.  Grinning wide, she leaned her head in to whisper directly near her ear, “If I wanted you all to myself, sweetheart, I would have you.” The shiver that elicited out of Eva made Etta giggle wickedly, placing a tender kiss on her neck before laying her chin on her shoulder once more. “But who am I rob men of such a delicacy, especially when they must already suffer my absence?Marietta stepped away from Eva after another teasing kiss behind her ear, fishing the girl’s invisibility cloak from the floor and handed it to her with a smile. “Send your family my love.”

Lucy: Wait. Okay yes - hurry, while Bertha's distracted by Angelina's ring -- now!! *Yanking his hand and twisting so her back hit the wall, rings of bottles dangerously close to tipping to the floor echoed in her ear. Her breath heavy and hard as she heard footsteps pause, she tilted away though it would be useless. Rick pressed against her. Distracting. The footsteps continued on. Breathless, she looked up at him and winked.* Now - go! Go! *An uncharacteristic smirk on her lips, Lucy's eyes were wrinkled from worry but now they crinkled in glee as she yanked again. Rick was letting her take lead, that was not an opportunity to miss. They ran through the door, jumping over the hay bale, vaulting over the fence hand in hand and darting into the woods. When they slowed, they were breathless from laughter as much as the sprint. They had no reason to sneak around anymore, but damn did they have a need to escape town. Freeing his hand, she put her own on her hip and declared matter-of-fact,* You deserved a break. And I'm neglected. Bertha works you to -death- Rick. *Her eyes sparkle at him.* Buttt I am afraid, since I -am- so aggrieved, *As if.*, that if you want -this- break...*She points to herself teasingly, dancing out of his reach, as she waggled her finger over her chest and face* You'll have to catch me first! *And she was off again, blonde hair streaming in the summer sun.*

Frederick: *Lucy could be a bit mad sometimes, but that was all the more reason he loved her. Now as they stood pressed against the wall, skiving off work and sneaking around, you could tell they were both a bit mad. Or at least somewhat childish. Rick couldn't deny that he missed the rush of sneaking around, if only that. Smirking playfully as her chest pressed against his, he didn't have time to enjoy it before they were off again. Restraining laughter was the hardest, but as they were home free and in the cover of trees, his laughter mixed with hers was the only thing he heard.* If only she worked me to death, then I wouldn't have to come back the next day. *He chuckled at his own joke and then wiggled his eyebrows as she feigned insult. As if he really preferred to work instead of to be with her. Trying to grab for her, a brief pout crossed his lips before he outright groaned and kept running.* Luceee! *He exhaled but after a grin, ran after her anyways.*

Leah: ...did you hear something? *Oh she knew she had to be killing him to stop - the little smirk on her lips would tell him that - but she sat up on her elbow all the same. The corset she had decided to wear -- "part two" (after the dagger she had made for him though the armorer had no idea) of his birthday gift, though Mitchell's birthday had been three weeks (and ten successful raids) ago -- was half undone, laces falling off her chest and tickling her arms more than the leaves did. Damn ribbon. His hand crested in her hair to tug some tiny stick out, carrassing her bare upper back - and she knew he was about to pull her down.* Shh, wait. *That time she actually had heard something. Why that would be, when they were deep in the forest and enclosed in a private grove...she couldn't guess bu-* Mitchell Stone! *Her voice cracked with the sudden rush of pleasure. Her hair whipped to glare at him.* Wait -one- moment, I swear I heard some--*

Mitchell: Nope. *He reached for her face again, though she kept annoyingly out of reach, so he sat up a little to try and coax her back to him; honestly who would be here anyways? It was completely secluded. Hand sliding up her back to her neck, he was about to pull her back, sitting up a little when she just pulled back again. Sighing, her sitting up just gave him an ample view of her breasts, so perfectly pushed up by his "birthday present". Smirking a moment, he leaned in and sucked on the milky white skin, grinning as she gasped.* There is nothing out there- 

Lucy: Oh! *Pulling up short after burst through the grove's walls - the hangings falling behind her with laughable speed considering her sudden halt.* 

Leah: Lucy! *Her eyes going wide, she yanked the top up though nothing was showing, reaching behind her for a shawl.*

Lucy: Leah! *Panting breathlessly one - two - three-,* Oh! *She swivelled to cover her eyes, cheeks blushing a dark scarlet.* I didn't see anything I swear--!

Leah: *Oh thank God Mitchell's pants were still on. She giggled once, sheepish.* It's all right--er-uh--were you looking for one of us?

Lucy: *lowers hands slowly, turning if possible, more scarlet* No, no, uh--

Leah: ..wait--

Lucy: Yes.

Leah: *flinches from a preemptive groan* God, really?

Lucy: *nods, then waves a small wave adding meekly,* Hi Mitchell.

Mitchell: *Oh, whoops. Never mind then. Pursing his lips, he sighed, not amused with the interruption.* Hi Lucy. Bye Lucy.

Frederick: *Pushing past the vines and leaves, the first person he saw was Lucy of course, his arms wrapping around her waist instinctively and then he suddenly paused, realizing who was there. He didn't need a double take, dear God, seeing it once was enough.* Oh for fuck's sake, -really-? *The initial shock was almost completely replaced by "should have seen that coming". A lot of things made sense now, and some things he really didn't want to know, at all, nothing, in the slightest.* -Him-?

Lucy: *meek* Mitch, I am so sorry-

Leah: Frederick! *Scowling, even as she holds the shawl around her tighter, besides the immediate offense at his words she gapes*

Mitchell: Me. *rolls his eyes and then points to the spot they both emerged from* Now, please. G'it.

Lucy: *Cheeks still burning bright red, as his arms close in and pull her against him - she suddenly grabs his arms tighter, holding them around her. Better that than him going for his wand, she thinks bitter - cut off from speaking aloud as three very vocal people keep interrupting her.*

Frederick: Are you honestly telling me to leave so you can shag my cousin?

Mitchell: No, *brightly* I'm telling you to leave so I can make love to your cousin.

Leah: *brightly* How about we stop talking about your cousin like she isn't sitting here?

Lucy: *wrinkles her nose, saying slowly,* Or maybe breathe--?

Frederick: *He glared and it took all the willpower he possessed not to reach for his wand (and his sword was still under his bed because he had been in the middle of work.* You really have no shame- God's sake, Leah, get off his lap already! *he rolled his eyes 

Mitchell: I quite like her on my lap.

Frederick: Shut up!

Leah: *Oh for heavens sakes--* Mitchell Matthew Stone. *Eyes rolling as she smacks his shoulder, she goes to stand...only promptly sits back down at Rick's words. She wouldn't do it because he ordered her too. Rolling her eyes, there's a flicker of fear in her heart too: Frederick had never been her first choice to find out about her and Mitchell. Looking warily at Lucy she takes a deep breath herself and nods,* Breathing sounds good. 

Lucy: *relieved to see Leah calm a bit - and still holding Rick's arms - she softens and then bites her lip looking between them steely* If you're going to yell, at least use each other's first names, all right? 

Leah: Or don't yell. *tightens shawl*

Lucy: Yes but-

Leah: *sigh* I know, realistic goals. 

Frederick: *He rolled his eyes, Merlin was Leah so difficult. Godspeed to Stone, honestly, because anyone else would have to be bonkers to put up with that amount of annoying stubbornness*

Mitchell: *Ignoring the reprimand with a smirk, it only widened as Leah firmly sat back down.* You should have asked a little nicer, mate.

Frederick: *he grits his teeth and then attempts his own false cheery tone.* Fine. I kindly ask you to put on your shirt.

Mitchell: I politely decline. *smiles*

Frederick: I don't want to breathe-

Mitchell: Then please stop! Don't let us bother you. As a good samaritan, I can even help you with your wish. I'm all about giving back, you see.

Frederick: God, you're such a tosser.

Mitchell: Are you calling God a tosser, -Frederick-? *his eyebrows arch* Lucy's mum will have your head for that. Two hundred hail Mary's next time you're at church.

Frederick: Don't you have anything better to do than to throw jibes around? *His eyes close and he groans in frustration as he sees Mitchell open his mouth to reply and Rick realizes what answers were sure to be given out, and he really didn't want to think about Leah that way ever again.* Don't say anything!

Mitchell: You asked the question! *smirks* Not my fault you don't like the answers.

Frederick: *his lips pursed in a thin line, and he had to remind himself to ease on his grip a little, his thumbs subconsciously running small circles on Lucy's waist, and he exhales.* I don't understand.

Mitchell: Really?! *he gestures to Lucy, his face shocked and aggravated* You're with Luce and you can't understand this-

Frederick: No, you pig's-cock-for-brains, that's not what I meant.

Mitchell: *he had to restrain laughter and merely reminded* Name rule!

Frederick: Isn't that what Mitchell means in Hebrew? Oh! My bad.

Mitchell: Now who's got jokes? *his lips twitch* Bertha's got to you. *He was almost a little proud of the insult. It was amateur's work, of course, but it was a lot better than "tosser" or "sot" or "bastard"*

Frederick: *he exhales and shakes his, grunting out a "never mind" under his breath.* Let's just go, Luce.

Lucy: *exchanging a look with Leah filled with exasperation and understanding, she sighs. Rick's fingers were pinching and gripping tighter, but she paid it no mind: she rather he grip her than go for a weapon. Even if a stick was all he had - and she knew bloody well he could cast wandlessly.* Mitch, my mum can order prayers just fine by herself - let's not give her ideas.

Leah: *her lips flick as she instantly thinks clearly around the some lines as them: oh yes. They had been entangled in a rather enjoyable pastime. Still as they continued...actually she had an idea she liked more.* No - wait. *Now she stood up, buttoning the blouse over the revealing corset and fixed the skirts. For a moment she looked only at her cousin, a blazing intensity in her gaze.* Rick, please don't just go - I have wanted to talk to you about this for ages. *tiny pause* Well not specifically this, because gross, -*hurriedly looks to Mitch, jerking her thumb back* to him I mean -- *looks back to Rick,* but generally. I--Iwanted to tell you when...well, everything went down. *She folds her arms on her chest, saying quieter.* So I could tell you I understand. *she presses her lips together hard* Please?

Lucy: *A little startled by the honesty - her gaze darts to Mitchell instantly, wondering suddenly if he felt as guilty as she did at times and then thinking: no, from what she knew, Mitchell guilted himself a hell of a lot more. Yet she was undeniably curious suddenly -- had he felt as torn as she? And she pulls herself gently from Rick, looking at him sideways with the same intense look - but saying genial, soft,* Sounds like a good idea to me. *quieter* It's kind of nice when you think of it that way, Leah that we're not alone.

Leah: *nods, though her lips twitched again too,* Yes exactly -- and Rick, hell of an insult. *winks at him, then looks apologetic to Mitch and leans to peck his cheek.*

Lucy: *Tiniest giggle at her gesture, she keeps her eyes back on Rick and then echoes, lifted their still joined hands to kiss the back of, eyes twinkling.*

Mitchell: *He groaned as Leah stood finally, knowing fun was over. He had needs! He licked his lips and frowned, fully intent on having his way with her later.*

Frederick: *His idea of "break" didn't usually involve his cousin or a man he disliked so much, and he rather it remain that way, but he had to admit he was curious. Not for details, God no, but well...they -were- in the same boat, or a very similar one at least.* But you didn't tell me. *he shrugged* Still don't trust me?

Mitchell: Nope- oww! *he rubbed his shin, and rolled his eyes. Well, that was rude. He had only been speaking the truth for himself.*

Frederick: *Utterly ignoring Mitchell, his gaze fixed on Leah's, he noticed the sincerity in her eyes and after a quick glance at Luce as she pulled away and vouched for the idea (of course she did) he turned back and nodded.* Sure. Why not?

Mitchell: *Damn. He exhaled sufferingly, only slightly placated by the kiss on his cheek. First time he's seen her in a week and a half- he wasn't pleased.* Can this be a quick discussion?

Leah: Mitchell. *She folded her arms on her chest, frustrated but admitting - it was more guilt that no, she had not trusted him that aimed her foot at him. Looking back at Frederick, she breathes easier and smiles slightly as he agreed.* Rick...it's not that I don't trust that you love Lucy, honestly, it wasn't. *looks sideways to Lucy, hesitantly*

Lucy: *lifts her chin a bit understanding in a moment and frowns briefly. But her words are free of accusation as she says softly,* Leah, if you want to ask, ask. But if you don't want someone to assume the worst of you, you should not assume the worst of them.

Leah: *A smile flicks across her lips as she realizes she's both being chastised and agrees. She turns to Rick and asks simply, curious and equally free of accusation,* Do you believe muggleborns should have equal rights? 

Lucy: *wrinkling her nose anways at the question, she folds her hands behind her back and looks at Mitchell again, knowing his irritation and also thinking maybe they shouldn't stay there for the 'short discussion' except: well, she wanted Mitchell to hear for himself. For she had every faith in Rick, and if they were fighting for anything, wasn't it for people to be able to disagree without fear of reproach? And how would anyone ever change their mind without conversations like this?*

Frederick: Well, after everything I've done, I hope you trust that much at least. *He wasn't angry, just irked but he supposed he understood why. No one in town trusted him when he first showed up, some still didn't. And even though Leah was his cousin, they weren't exactly the best of confidantes to begin with.*

Mitchell: *It was still mind blowing to him, really. It just...it was weird. And wrapping his head around it was difficult, especially because he was in the forest and he'd forget until somehow Lucy came up in conversation and consequently the way they were practically attached at the hip. Mitchell was actually a bit jealous (maybe more than a bit) that they could see each other so often. It was getting more difficult for Leah to sneak away to him. Lips pursing at Lucy's little reprimand, his eyebrows suddenly rose at Leah's straightforward question, looking from Lucy, to Leah, to Frederick. Well, this out to be good.*

Frederick: *Well, just cutting to the chase then, just like that. Brilliant. He shouldn't be surprised, it was Leah after all. Leah, whose sudden "camaraderie" with some Lords, notably Tyrelion, months ago suddenly made much more sense. She had been working with Mitchell and his gang all along. He almost laughed. Then he focused back on the question, and what really surprised him was the fact that he knew the answer immediately.* Yes.

Mitchell: *He snorted and then uncrossed his arms as he was hit with three different set of glares.* All muggleborns? Even me?

Frederick: *rolls eyes* Yes, even you.

Lucy: *The instant he spoke, her lips flicked a fond smile though she held Mitchell's gaze. Honestly, she understood the hesitance, she'd only ever heard one statement of what Rick had used to stay and it had churned her stomach but on the other hand -- no, no she didn't get their hesitance. Did they have such a low opinion of her that they thought she'd stay with someone who honestly thought she was beneath him? Still she smiled; if they didn't believe the answer from his own lips then there was nothing she nor Rick could do, and she still liked hearing it from him.*

Leah: *ignoring Mitchell's snort she lifted her chin and smiled too, gaze flicking between the three of them before saying softer, aware of her own irony* ...God, I wish you were at court. *It would have been nice to have someone there actually understand - not just feel sorry for them as Kitty and Jane and even George did mostly.*

Lucy: *frowns* Leah-

Leah: What!? I'm sorry, it's true, *she lays her hands on her heart* just because selfishly, I'd like having someone there I could be honest with! *A hand comes out--* I suppose what I really wish is that you could both - well that we could all - be wherever the hell we want to be and do whatever we want - because this -is- utter bollocks, it is, all of it, but if I'm still looking for realistic goals, I would like to talk to someone honestly and not have to lie, or cover or leave out details, just -- *she lifts her hands and rubs her face, muttering more under her breath about 'damn tyrelion' and then her eyes snap open and she looks between all of them, saying louder and less breathily,* Just. To not feel judged or pity because you're in love with someone that they say you shouldn't. 

Lucy: *rubbing under her eyes, she nods instantly, though she looks sideways at Rick still - honestly hating anything that made her feel as though it was her that took him from that, even though she knew logically it wasn't.* Well, that's what I want too. *quiet*

Frederick: *He snorted, smirking in amusement with the thought of the looks he'd get if he came back to court with Lucy in hand.* I didn't know you missed me so much, Leah.

Mitchell: Can't see why. *Frederick didn't seem like the type of person you'd miss, more like sing hallelujah choruses for their absence, but he couldn't say that out loud- the next kicked aimed his way could be placed a little higher.*

Frederick: *He definitely understood Leah's point. If he could have Lucy with him at court, he'd have preferred that. He liked court, being Lord, was proud...but Lucy was much more important to him. If he could honestly have it all, he would not hesitate. Well, only at first to ask if being at court was something Lucy wanted.* Yeah, I don't envy all the lying you're having to do now. I know how that feels.

Mitchell: It's what we all want here. And it pains me to admit it, because I dislike having things in common with you, Frederick. *he purses his lips and then he shrugs* It can happen, it will happen.

Frederick: Gonna wave your hand and make it all better, Mitchell?

Mitchell: *rolls eyes* No but, that's what we're fighting for isn't it? Choices, the ability to have choices to do what you want- which is bloody well ridiculous because it's supposed to be innate right, but...*he shrugged* 

Frederick: *dryly* Eloquent.

Mitchell: Thank you.

Lucy: *Okay, so perhaps she was oversensitive to it but dear God why was it they couldn't get through more than a few sentences without insulting each other? Men. Still she lifted her head as she considered another way: she knew Rick would have preferred she come to court. Oddly enough, she thought she'd have preferred that too. For all the backstabbing hypocrisy, the court was a place she genuinely could make a difference at and affect just by being there. And was it a crime she had spent so many years in the stables watching noblewomen and girls her age go to grand parties, feasts and celebrations and wish she could go as well? To not want to worry if they would have enough money to buy food for the week - to not spend winters huddled around a fire she tended all night, even if she had learned how to do so magically? A shiver trailed down her spine as she admitted that her at court also would have meant that Rick's family accepted her...she supposed that was what she craved and realized she'd reached for Rick's arm only after she'd taken it.* Well-speaking of which though -- *her eyes flicked to Leah, hesitant*

Leah: *Had nodded at Rick, amused a moment as she said lightly,* Oh you never believed the load of bull I had to come up with anyway Frederick. *But she knew he'd never considered -this- scenario either. Especially not so vividly. Was it extremely warm? ...Oh, she had to stop looking at Mitchell's bare chest. Hearing Lucy, she arched an eyebrow and looked back,* Yeah?

Lucy: *simply* Leah, I'm at the court. I mean not inside, obviously but-

Leah: -the stables. *At once, with a look of dawning comprehension, and a tinier smile.* ...you're thinking...-

Lucy: *shrugs* They don't trust me, any of them but-

Leah: To be fair, you did steal a horse. *Her lips flick.*

Lucy: That blighter deserved worse than that.

Leah: I don't disagree. *amused*

Lucy: But yes. *nods* Just because Henry actually saddles the majority now doesn't mean I couldn't cast a spell on them - there's some kind of listener's aid isn't there?

Leah: *smiles slowly as she considers* So you cast the spell and then wherever theygo on that saddle...you could hear what they say?

Lucy: *nods once* They're more likely to be discussing dastardly plots outside the court walls aren't they? But it's more than that - I mean - the stables are also a uh-- *casts glance to Rick suddenly grinning*--place people will go to get away, if I just stay out of view...

Leah: *Her lips flicked up as she looked at Mitchell while Lucy looked to Rick. Her smirk wide, her words were simple.* We know.

Lucy: *snorts* Yes, well - it's just a shame I've been made so visible since before that...I mean servants overhear -everything,- Leah, Rick. *she pauses looking back at him.*

Leah: *her lips flick sadly as she suddenly remembers Mitchell's brother telling her that too...God, eighteen, nineteen years ago, but she smiles and nods.* ...right but, still-

Lucy: *smiles* Still. I know how to make myself invisible. *squeezing Rick's arm in comfort* 

Leah: *looking between Rick and Lucy with a similar smile* ...you really want to help, don't you?

Frederick: *He turned his head as Lucy took his arm again, and took a step closer to her out of habit before he turned to Leah as she spoke again.* No, I didn't. *You couldn't lie to a liar, not completely. Besides, he knew he was a far better liar than Leah, if only because he had more experience. Still, it wasn't something he was particularly proud of so he kept silent.*

Mitchell: *Smirking briefly, knowing all too well the act that Leah had to put on for the court. Seeing it in action was decidedly not one of his favorites nights. Turning back to the conversation, his smirk only widened at the mention of the stables. Winking once in Leah's direction, his smirk turned into a grin at Lucy's suggestion.* Brilliant. 

Frederick: *Even the brief mention of Weston made his blood boil. Frederick was not one to forget a slight, and one made against Lucy even less. He had a very long memory, and one day that bastard would pay the price of his wrath. But he kept silent. It was more like him- cold anger. Nevertheless, he held onto Lucy closer and nodded.* Yes. However little help I can offer, at least it's something.

Mitchell: And you're just following Lucy on this.

Frederick: *Mostly. He just didn't think there was much he could do, not without putting Lucy at risk and he wouldn't do that.*

Leah: *arching an eyebrow as she relaxes against the tree, more at ease now that she was at least sure they weren't going to stab each other. With swords, that was: they clearly were attempting to stick each other with words but. She sighed, grateful for the armor of their egos.* Well. Lucy...speaking of lying...

Lucy: *As Rick drew her closer she had to admit she took comfort innately: how he seemed to know the incident with Matthew still bothered her, she didn't know. At Leah's hesitance, she stills seeming to realize, she waits, and then nods.* You want to insult me?

Leah: *She winces. Technically she already had. Rick too, considering Willas had been so 'concerned for her' as he 'knew this was another betrayal at the hands of a mudblood'--ugh, shestopped thinking, cleared her throat and spoke.* Not generally, Luce--

Lucy: No, *calmly* I get it - in front of them. It would bolster your credentials.

Leah: *eyes flick as she looks at Rick an instant, a tiny smirk on her lips. Her expression was clear: damn. Lucy would do well at court. And then she looked back,* You can insult me too, obviously. 

Lucy: *she laughs* I could always steal your horse?

Leah: *snorts* Well, yes, but don't go near my sword okay? *amused* I already had to steal it back once.

Lucy: I wouldn't dream. *lacing her fingers with Rick, looking back to Mitchell.* Mitch, -is- there something else we could do in town? *She meant that Rick could do. She desperately wanted to ask him too, if he ever planned - once exonerated - to talk to Leah's family...but she didn't know how, and figured mentioning Rick's uncle to him would not help ... anyone there actually.*

Frederick: *He frowned, instantly disliking the idea of Lucy being insulted any more period, but he begrudgingly reminded himself it was only Leah, and it would probably hurt her more to say those things and pretend to mean them then having Lucy hear it knowing it was just a lie. Nevertheless he was proud of her for seeming to understand Leah easily and perfectly, a small smirk crossing his lips.*

Mitchell: *He'd much rather have Leah in the forest with him. Obviously, he would. Just the thought of her undercover work made him frown (and the smallest most fleeting thought of Tyrelion filled him with murderous rage.) but he knew it was necessary. Logically, he knew it was necessary, emotionally, no. Emotionally he stilled sparred with Hector every night to get all his anger out. Arthur and Kenneth had already said they wouldn't spar with him anymore, for fear of him killing them. He had a feeling they were only half joking. Contemplating for a moment as a question was addressed to him he turned to Frederick, eyebrows raised* Any chance of you crawling back on your knees-

Frederick: *immediately, snapping* None.

Mitchell: Obviously, to infiltrate the group.

Frederick: Never.

Mitchell: Granted, they'd probably have you kill someone to let them gain your trust, that would be after you pretended to be your past-usual prick self.

Frederick: *firmly* I'm not putting Lucy in danger.

Mitchell: *tilts his head and admits* She already is-

Frederick: In further danger, then! You just want me to go back don't you-

Mitchell: You asked for a way to help!

Frederick: One you knew I wouldn't take!

Mitchell: We all have sacrifices to make-

Frederick: Fuck you, Mitchell.

Mitchell: What? Afraid you'll be hated again? It happens. We'd know the truth, at least.

Frederick: You know very well you don't trust me enough to "infiltrate" because you still think I'd turn my back on all of you.

Mitchell: Yeah you're right! *he stood up* I still don't trust you. *he snatched his shirt from a branch and put it over his head.* I'm leaving.

Frederick: Good riddance.

Mitchell: Not a big man now without your sword are you, -Frederick-?

Frederick: I don't need a sword to put a hole through you, -Mitchell-, so watch yourself.

Mitchell: *scoff* Please, you don't scare me. You want to help?

Frederick: *teeth gritted* Why the bloody hell do you still think I'm here looking at your fucking ugly face?

Mitchell: *ignores this and then smirks* Then go to Damocles and petition him for a charter.

Frederick: *thrown* a charter?

Mitchell: Yes. For a bank. You mentioned it to Kitty one day didn't you? Kitty told Leah, Leah told me. I think it's a fucking fantastic idea, and I'm only sorry you were the one that came up with it.

Frederick: What the fuck do you know about banks, Mitchell?

Mitchell: Nothing, but you do. That's the point. You're the only one "qualified" enough to ever run one. Well, Karyn might have been the other, but seeing as how she's on the run too-

Frederick: So all that stuff before, you were just pulling my leg?

Mitchell: *smirk* I just wanted to see what you'd say. Still don't trust you with my life, personally, but details.

Leah: *Huh. Bark didn't squish. Thud. Thud. Her eyes were closed the moment Mitchell made the suggestion; for a second she had to admit whoever they were, would believe Frederick over her, before the inevitable made her groan. And repeatedly knock her head against the tree with every sentence. Especially as Mitchell changed tactics so fast - which she'd anticipated really - and she rolled her eyes.* Mi--

Lucy: -just wanted to see what he'd say!? *breathing heavily, she had only been silenced as Rick mentioned how it would put her in danger, calmed by his concern. And yet still, were Lucy a cat her tail would be sticking straight up with her eyebrow.* Mitchell Stone, he is not a lab rat. Anymore than we are for -*jerks her head in the general direction of the far off manor*-for them!

Leah: *she screws her lips up adding evenly,* Nor is Mitch an idiot, Luce.

Lucy: *blink, thrown a bit* I haven't treated him as one.

Leah: *under her breath* Orugly. *so they all could hear now,* No I know, I just thought you might stop explaining the obvious. 

Lucy: *Shenarrows her eyes...then sees Leah mouth 'leave it' and realizes (though not without frustration) how Mitchell and Rick (in their way) had just declared they'd work together, that Mitch thought he had a good idea. She sighs and nods.* Right. Well. Either way, any more tests Mitchell? *arches brow irritated*

Leah: *snorts and then pushes off the tree, eyes back on Rick and saying softer, sincerity back in her eyes as she said quietly,* And I do. Just for the record, Rick. I mean that's when we aren't sparring, obviously, but that's different. *she grins slightly.*

Lucy: *still squeezing Rick's hand and looking at Mitchell, she adds softer herself,* The bank is a good idea.

Mitchell: *To be honest, he was surprised he didn't suffer any more than a verbal lashing. Still, he had needed to test Frederick. If he was going to work with him, he needed to at least know he wouldn't anything stupid.* We'd give the money to the people that way.

Frederick: I figured. *he shrugged* Simple enough. They'd all need to open accounts, after that it's just a matter of adding the money in as deposits. They'd have to be explained that they need to keep money in the bank at all times though, they just can't withdraw it all, otherwise there'd be no chance for them to increase their earnings-

Mitchell: I'll leave that to you. *He was more than capable, at least. Besides that way, there'd be less of a chance of the money he and the gang were giving to simply be snatched back.* I'd talk to Esther if I were you, she could help you make them understand. Kenneth's brother, Ian, you know 'im? Sharp lad,  eager to help, unfortunately not so easy to dissuade. I'd rather he didn't try and tackle on a whole garrison with a butcher knife.

Frederick: *He would need to hire a staff of three others at least. Preferably a few who were more prone to smile given that Rick himself wasn't exactly an expert on customeng to the much easier smirk.* Right.

Mitchell: Aww, see, we're all getting along. *grins and then he licks his lips and then motions outwardly* We were here first though, seriously.

Frederick: Leah it's not too late to change your mind. *dryly* There must be some other outlaw out there for you instead of this one.

Mitchell: Haha. Leave, please. I'm two minutes away from begging, and three minutes away from taking myself in-

Frederick: We're leaving. *he tugs on Lucy's hand, squeezing her fingers between his tighter.*

Leah: *Her lips flick wide with relief: the usual bickering through the details now only making her smile. It was better than expected. Much, really. Nodding at Rick once more with a similar smirk she doesn't see the need to say more and well. Mitchell took care of talking for her. She snorted,* Believe me Rick, I've thought about it.

Lucy: *Yes, she thought briefly, Mitchell and Leah certainly had thought about the entire known world it had seemed, during the years and years of ridiculous denial. Happy to see them smiling now, she squeezed Rick's hand back adding lightly,* Oh, and happy birthday Mitchell. My mum prayed for you on the actual day -*her smile flicks teasingly*- but, when you do come by there's a better present too: she stitched you a new shirt. Well I helped.

Leah: You hate sewing too. *smirk widens even as she looks exasperated, and simply stays still playing with her necklace, thinking about his "present" here.*

Lucy: I really rath--*feels Rick tugging on her hand and arm again and giggles suddenly*--er do yes-- geesh, impatient aren't they? *teasing, even as she lets Rick pull her back (well all right she did not have much choice)*

Mitchell came bearing gifts as a sign of good faith. Though not of gold, frankincense or myrrh, Mitch's beard by now looked well enough to rival whatever facial hair the three Magi's might have sported on route to Belen. They all carried bags with them, with all the food they had left. They could hunt more, he had said, and gather more berries and nuts and the rest but the people in town couldn't afford to spare time to hunt, and each day were getting lower on money to buy. Just as Leah had promised, there were no guards around but of people they were plenty. Even still, Leah did not walk out with them, could not risk it getting out to the court; Aria was of the same mind. But Leah was around and she didn't have to tell him so to know she would.

The town was in the state of everyone returning home, and they were there in the middle of it. Most stopped to look, pointed, whispered to whoever they had next to them. Others hurried off, probably to grab somebody and tell them what was happening. A few outwardly sneered, turned away, one shouted "murderer" well after Mitch had passed so he couldn't see who it was, but one made sure to spit at his face.

"Missed you too, Heidi."

Leah: Parting from Mitchell at Thomas' had put a sour taste in her mouth even if it was shaped in a proud smile. She wondered if she would always worry about him so and chuckled, for the answer was undeniably: yes. And she wouldn't have him any other way, incorrigible, unruly, trouble-making boy as he was, smirk and all. She loved that he worried her. She loved that he never gave up on what was right. Standing now beside her brother, Karyn was behind her with a blazing look on her face. Lucy had thrown her arms around her when they arrived: the pair had jabbered something Leah didn't understand over a beer, though not before Karyn had shocked her by turning to Rick and saying flatly she wasn't sorry anymore than he was, but that she liked him all the same and was glad he and Luce had found each other. Leah had blinked - but found herself beaming. She was glad they had too. And anything that dumbfounded her cousin for even an instant amused her. 

Lucy and Rick were closer in to the town center now; hand in hand, and it appeared Lucy's head rested on his shoulder. The sight comforted Leah, though her heart was pounding as a commotion's rumblings started beating at the edge of a drum of trouble. Arthur walked slower. Some greeted him with condolences, one Annemarie looked to slap-then kissed his cheek instead, but most...most clearly didn't know what to say. Leah suspected that was fine with him. He didn't either.  Kenneth had been accosted by his brother Ian, before being yanked back by a fussy mother whose eyes had terrified Leah as a child. They broke her heart now as they rested a moment on her son behind Mitch: no mother should have to live with this fear and hurt, Leah thought stiffening her upper lip. Hector and Sonja behind them tossing more food after the sack: but every eye was on Mitch. He had to like that, she thought wryly, a hand squished in her pockets, the other flat toying with her necklace and wore a smirk of her own.

With a glance to the necklace, Thomas smiled slightly.

"Mitch gave yer it, yeah?" She only smiles. Until, that is, she sees her sister. "Jane!?"

Jane was carrying a shirt of all things, a loose needle flying below it caught on the last thread she figured her sister had bothered to use. Oh, of course Jane was there: her sister had a talent for trouble.*

Jane: Leah! *Figured her sister was here. Malcolm might have said he needed her to distract him but truthfully: he had distracted her more than half the day, and wonderfully. He had taken her riding (multiple ways really) so they could escape, be alone, and only heard upon return. His mother was there: she knew Adelina had been in town (had said something fierce to Octavius that made Malcolm smirk and beam), and they had parted reluctantly so Malcolm could see her too. She fully intended on returning to his arms all night, but had thought she should give the finished shirt to Neville while her parents were with her uncle, properly distracted (and oddly, it hadn't sounded as if they were arguing). And she had owed Rick an explanation why she had not come.

Only Mitchell Stone was striding down the street and naturally -- she found her sister. Darting sideways, she nodded at Thomas, "Should have known you couldn't be far behind.

Leah: Her lips flick. "I don't know what you mean."

Jane: Right, of course you don't. Pay no attention to the adoration in your eyes: it has nothing to do with his presence - *nods her head* - you've sworn to hate him for being an insufferable prat all his life.

Leah: *laughs under his breath and adds petulantly* He is an insufferable prat. *fondly, smile soft* And brilliant. Absolutely bollocks of course, but brilliant.

Jane: *grin softening to see her sister's smile.* What's he doing here?

Leah: What are -you- doin--*sees Jane open mouth*--never mind. *with a teeny exhasperated sigh, she leans to kiss her cheek* I don't even want to know. Just don't change.

Jane: *amused* Never, sister. *eyes widen* Is that Karyn?

Leah: *winces; nods, never looking away from Mitchell, though she's too far to hear what he's saying to one person.* 

Jane: *eyes stuck on Karyn* Is she okay?

Leah: Would you be?

Jane: *quiet, fiercely in a whisper* I'd want the bastard dead. And I'd want to do it.

Leah: *a peculiar smile on her lips, she just nods at her sister as she turns back to look at Mitch.*

Jane: What is he doing? *Her arms fold on her chest over the shirt, eyes trailing over Lucy's shoulder - aww, they looked adorable - to stick to Mitch as he spun.*

Leah: Listen. 

Mitchell: He moved past them all, back to the square again, putting the bags on the ground as more and more people gathered around them. He was trying to forget everything that had happened just a few hours before, but couldn't.

"We don't want any trouble-" He restrained a roll of his eyes as the muttering became louder, statements accusing, and words just downright mean. "We don't want any trouble!!" He said it louder, despite the scoffs in the crowd, his hands gesturing to the bags of food.

"This, this is all the food we have. It's yours!" There was a shout accusing them of poisoning it and he really wondered whether these people have ever known them at all.

"We are not murderers! We are not poisoners or arsonists! Listen to me!- oh bloody bollocks," his voice dropped to a whisper at the last bit until finally he hoisted himself up on the gallows and then put a finger in his mouth, whistling to call for attention, or at the very least quiet. Goddamn. At the same time, he could see his sister push through to the front, her gaze seemed to him a little reprimanding almost as if she had known he had said the lord's name in vain, but mostly worried. He was worrying a bit too, though not too much.

"My name is Mitchell Stone. All of you know me, I'm not some stranger who waltz in uninvited, I know every single one of you! Paul, your favorite drink is single malt whiskey, and your wife snores, sorry Clarence. Tormund, I invited you and your sons and grandsons over to dinner with our family one night- cleaned us out you did! You'd probably finish these entire bags ye'self if we let ya. Alice, Rosie, Thelma, Annemarie-- the adjectives you ladies have to describe me would rival that of a bloodthirsty pirate, but do you honestly believe murderous fits among them?"

He licked his dry lips before he continued. "I'm not a saint, God knows I'm not, and God knows I've sinned...but not in the crimes you believe me, believe us, to be guilty of. That cold night, many months ago Arthur, Kenneth, and I were having drinks with our friends, our dear and most cared for friends, Wyatt and Brianna Larson. It was the most normal of nights, teasing each other, sharing joke's at the other's expense, drinking away their liquor. That was the night we were ambushed and attacked, the night they were -stolen- from us. We were attacked, all of us, by a group of people not living here but up there!"

His finger pointed.

"Up there, in that manor, there hide half a dozen cowards who would have everyone believe what you all so quickly did. That we who were Wyatt and Bri's best friends, could hurt them, could kill them." He kept fighting to keep his throat from constricting, to keep his words intelligible. It was always difficult to talk about them, always. "Wyatt was as good as my brother, and you know it! You know all the trouble we had gotten into, nicking wines and planting poison ivy, and letting a loose a flock of geese among the town. I was best man at their wedding- a wedding we held right here in the middle of the town! We feasted and celebrated for two days straight, and those two could not stop looking at each other. I was so lucky, to have them in my life. I was so lucky to have a friend as understanding as Wyatt, as caring as Bri. And watching them die...right in front of my eyes, unable to do anything to help them...that was the worst night of my life."

Leah's hand stills on her lips. They did listen - to every word, and she's not surprised by gasps of surprise, anger and hurt leaving her sister's lips - she had always been so expressive. Leah didn't say a word: just stood still, breathless in awe and pride, tear shining in the corner of her eye. God, Mitch said it perfectly. Her heart pounding with the still open wound of the loss of Wyatt and Bri, she breathed harder thinking of the additional loss of Daniel, praying that they could find a way to justice. This was a brilliant start, she thought fiercely without blinking, taking a few steps to take her sister's hand and so that she might be in Mitchell's eyesight as he spoke. Brilliant, bollocks, mad -- and exactly what she thought they needed as she surveyed the quiet crowd. Not all seemed affected: they glared and grunted still, but a few did. And all were listening to him. All were riveted on his every word.

Mitchell spared a quick glance around him, to make sure they were paying attention and to regain his ability to speak. He was revealing his soul to these people, but he knew unless he was absolutely, completely, gut-wrenching truthful they would not believe him. Hell, he knew that some after this still wouldn't believe him. But he had to try- good God, Mitchell was just now starting to realize how many of his family members there really well; they all crowded together. Some with tears in their eyes, some with stubborn look on their faces but all supportive, all of them, even little baby Jacob. He looked away and continued to speak.

"I won't deny this: I'm a thief. I am a bloody good thief, and we've stolen from the nobles. Trinkets, alcohol, plates made of gold and silver. Do you think this has honestly affected them? They still live like kings while you here have trouble paying the taxes imposed by ade of gold and silver. Do you think this has honestly affected them? They still live like kings while you here have trouble paying the taxes imposed by their ostracizing government. They stay rich because any little money -we- make, somehow or the other, ends up back in their pockets! Damocles attempted to make steps towards equality but no surprise- there Are those that opposed him vehemently, savagely. They're trying to keep us in line, they thought me a threat and that's why they framed me, that's why the killed my friends."

It would be so much easier if everyone in the town had magic, so he could tell them the truth but alas, Mitch was a good fibber as well. Maybe one day there would come a time when magic didn't have to be a secret to anyone, but today was not that day.

"To make sure we remain exactly where we've always been: under their shoes. And so we started fighting back! Stealing from them, selling it to whoever would buy and coming here and giving you the profits- not directly. Esther has been quite generous these past months hasn't she?" He licks his lips, smiling at his sister before nodding, "But now I intend to do more than that. You are my home. This town is my home, I've drank in that tavern, I've bought strawberry pie from that bakery, I've trained in that forge- was almost killed in that forge and Gregor I know I'm not your favorite person...actually, you could say I'm the most hated person now."

It was the bitter truth, one he tried to swallow down. "You here, them up there, you all hate me. Most of you. I gotta tell you, going from the most popular man in town to the most hated does horrible things to a self esteem. So I lost my livelihood, two of my friends, the ability to ever lead a normal life." He frowned and then said quite simply.

"I might die. Who knows, we continually put our lives on the line to do what's right, -damn- the consequences, -damn- what anyone else thinks about you because in your heart you know what you have to do! And I have to do and what I want to do is protect this town! Protect my friends, protect my family, keep you all safe. Because today? Today you saw the war we've been fighting for months now come at your doorstep."

"Daniel Bridges is dead."

He could not look at Arthur or Karyn as he said this. He wiped at his eyes and continued.

"He was a good man, a great man, and you all know it. He was one of you, the same way I was, but with a far better reputation. He joked with you, got you bargains for those earrings you gave your wife on your anniversary, your daughter's new frock, that mirror you can't stop yourself from looking in every time you pass it. Daniel never did any what they said he did! His only crime, was lying to keep his children safe. Because they had already tortured Arthur, threatened to do the same to Karyn- these are the enemy! A handful of people up in that manor, plotting and scheming to keep us separated and away! Who would have you convinced that Daniel was a traitor, that me and Arthur and Kenneth are murderers! These handful of people, whose vision of a better life keeps spreading to the rest like a virus, consequently making allies simply by having no one to defy them, but you know what, -I- defy them! I'll continue to defy them, until I get justice for what has been done to Wyatt and Bri, justice for Daniel's death, for the suffering and death that has occurred because of their hatred of us, of a few who don't fit into their mold of what a perfect world should be! I'll defy them, and I'll fight them, because I want to make a change! I want this town and everyone in it, to come out for the better! Whatever it takes!...

He sighed, speaking softly for a moment with the sudden weight of his words, "Whatever it takes." He shook his head, passed a hand over his face for a moment before he continued again. "I will not let them keep playing chess with our lives, with our money, with who we are. They thought I was threat before?! They have no idea who they're dealing with, because let me tell you, having your ear pulled by Hettie and Bertha from one end of town to the other prepares you for the worst!"

Maybe one day, he would learn to stop with the jokes.

"I am NOT, your enemy!! I am your friend, or I would like to be so again! So have this food, all we have, compliments of the house, and expect more. -We're- going to take care of you, the way the court is supposed to. Because I care about this town, I love this town, I love everyone in this town and I refuse, refuse, to see any more casualties come from this! I'm Mitchell Stone, you can expect two things from me: one, is that I'll put my arse on the line and fight for anyone and everyone I care about, and two, to crack jokes while I do it!"

"You don't have to trust me...trust is earned. For some of you, I've never earned it, others I've lost that trust, just give me a chance to regain it. Give me a -fighting- chance, because that's exactly what I intend to do! Fight for you, for Wyatt and Bri and Daniel, for my family, for Merida and Thomas and Lucy and -fuckit- you too former midget lord Frederick. I suppose. Doesn't mean I like you or nothing. It just means your one of us now, aye?"

Oh, Brackner looked ready to murder him, good. But, at least he nodded.

"Well, in this town we take care of our own, don't we?! We always have, and we always will! So drag your bum up to the bags and grab a parcel, all of you, before Hector changes his mind and runs away with the lot."

They heard him well. Leah could see it shining from their tired faces: no matter how broken-hearted they were, no matter how they dropped their eyes, the purpose and determination singing through his words sparked an innate fire in their blood, in her blood. Maybe not all of them - but most, and she would take that - would cling to the fact something good had happened today.

Swallowing back tears, holding her chin high and lip stiff she was smiling. Purpose was the only damn thing she could think of that healed brokenness, besides time. A good fight for what was right might cloud her eyes with tears, but it definitely lifted her heart. Knowing what they were up against, well blast-- you had to be nuts to try it, and you'd be worse to think it would be easy or even ultimately hopeful. But hope appeared something burned in her soul that didn't stop because logic told it to stop singing it's sweet song. That only made it stronger. Her gaze locked on Mitchell as it was, she was surprised to hear her sister, and turned her head.*

Jane: *It was a good speech. Jane could not have grown up in the bloody family she did, could not have the talent with words she did, and not know that: her blood was pumped faster through her veins, her heart lifted even as her gut twisted. Mitchell would fight to the death, she realized: he was perfectly serious. And she thought the irony was abundant, whoever the bastards were that framed him and his friends had made their own perfect enemy, made their own downfall.

She was sure of it.

What she hadn't expected was to laugh so much, to somehow find humor in this mess even without knowing the context or people Mitchell named. Tightening her jaw and rubbing under her eye - her gaze darted to her cousin. She couldn't help a twinge in her heart to hear Rick named one of them. And he was. But goddammit, he also was one of ...one of...oh -her- then, her family, and being nobility didn't have to mean you were a bastard. It was simple. Don't be a bastard. But as she looked at Rick she realized, she was glad to see him included, glad to be there herself. They could fight the bastards just as well. Hell, better. (Maybe that was Brackner ego, but it was also true).

"It really is war, isn't it?

After a shallow breath, Leah nods at her with sudden weight to her words.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Jane takes a long deep breath, nods herself, and a thin smile writes itself on her lips.

"Good. Bloody tired of all the double talk. Let them damn try." 

Leah smiles herself, her gaze turning fond back to Mitch, echoing with all the love she had,

"Yeah. Let them damn try."

Hard part over. He breathed out heavily, his eyes searched everyone's, as much as he could. Naturally, his gaze sought out Leah's last, far away as she was. He smiled as well, seeing the pride in her eyes and he couldn't deny that it was a glorious feeling. Winking once, he dropped down on the ground again, clapping Hector on the back and giving Sonja a one armed hug around her shoulders before he picked up parcels and started handing them out with them.

His family was there all around him, pulling him into bugs, crying in his shirt, ruffling his hair, reprimanding his hygiene, telling him to shave his beard and expressing their pride. Wyatt's mother came up to him too, and with watery eyes, she only hugged Mitchell, and told him she never blamed him, never. Every little "thank you" or "bless you, Mitch" lifted his heart higher. He didn't pay attention to those that kept to the side, or those who had journeyed back to their homes in the middle of his speech.

On this day of heartbreak, he needed hope, they all did. Hope was the purest form of motivation, even truer than revenge, though he knew he had not entirely forgotten about the other. Hope and revenge and love, they guided him. He would be ready for anything they might throw at him, he would win.

dated may 8th, 2034

Rowland: *They had almost every copy of every history book written during that time, give or take 30 years in each direction because they literally have no idea when in the universe they were. Assuming they couldn't travel across universes that was. He, personally, wouldn't put it past his son but Brandin assured that was 'currently theoretical.' Well, everything was theoretical until it was put to practical use, but that wasn't the point. They just had a lot of books to go through and so far they had come up with nothing. Newspaper clippings from that time were also impossible to get ahold of, and Rowland doubted that they existed anymore. Derek was trying to get them access to the archives of the Prophet but the pretty bluntly said that there were a few decades unaccounted but they still needed to try. Rowland rubbed at his eyes under his reading glasses. Not even Google worked! Why hadn't wizards gotten into Google yet? He flipped a page, his sudden aggravation obvious given that he ripped the lower part of the page. Oops. Before he had a chance to repair it, however, the book repaired itself. Brandin was really meticulous about his things wasn't he? Well, Isobel was as well.* It'll be our little secret. *He muttered to the book before closing it and putting it back on the shelf. The last book he had talked to had talked back, even.* I'm really starting to regret the fact that the Fayes -weren't- egotistical enough to document every single little detail of their lives. *He would read through a million sentences of 'today, the breakfast was apples and porridge' if one of those sentences said 'today, Alec and Blair Stone visited court'. Anything, just one inkling of it. He found consalation in, apart from his wife, knowing that Alec, Blair and the rest hadn't torn a hole in the space time continuum. Though, knowing his daughter, she probably hadn't been allowed to try. He missed them, so much. And he needed them back, with him and Rebecca, immediately. Why the stupid books failed to realize that, he didn't know, because otherwise they would spit out the information at them. He exhaled again and leaned back on the shelves, looking sideways at his wife, who was in the middle of pouring through books herself. They had both been unable to get much sleep since the night she had woken from a nightmare, a vision. The first one in decades.* There has to be something else we can do.

Rebecca: *Fingernail scratching down the page as she tracked through mindless pontification, Rebecca wasn't surprised she couldn't manage to scratch the page. How often was anything broken around here? Besides the laws of decency, common sense, and gravity that was -- but those things were less important to the prominent members of society. And apparently they had been sin the beginning of flipping time, since had the goddamn purebloods had been so keen to erase their indiscretions from history. Brandin had glared at her, then shaken his head when she asked if there had ever been an attack in the ballroom that night, then taken them to the ballroom in question and shown both of them the markings on one of the columns - as if expecting they would understand that instantly, just as he had expected his exasperated look to somehow magically change her attire - she was supposed to worry about clothes matching when her children were missing?! The explanation that as a young boy he'd examined the markings, said that magic had left them as they repaired the marble, as if the marble itself was trying to pretend it had never fallen down. Bloody Fayes. So yes, there had been a battle of some kind, but Brandin didn't know when exactly, -- early twentieth century was the best he had, while he continued bemoaning that Rebecca wasn't supposed to know about this. Well, bloody hell, there were a lot of things she knew she wasn't supposed to know but it just seemed the universe had other plans, didn't it? Well rather, that their brilliant son and daughter did. A small quirked up her lips, proud at the thought. Hearing her husband, her finger paused on the page and she looked up slowly, eyes wide with exhaustion and resignation. She nods once, chewing on her bottom lip.* I agree. If I see one more book about how brilliant a peaceful transition time this was, I'm going to lose it. *She flicks her gaze over his shoulder, and then back to them, asking quietly.* Why wouldn't they have told us? Did they think we wouldn't...understand why they'd want to go? *She swallows, disquieted.* I know all children rebel at some point but...God, Rowland...

Rowland: *The shocking amount of times they had read how perfectly everything had gone after Damocles passed the legislation that made muggleborns legal, was frankly more than a little annoying by now. He was proud at first to hear it, years ago when he had inquired about the fate of the family and friends he'd left behind. Returning to it again after all these years left him skeptical. And after countless of days and nights of coming across the same cock and bull story he was about ready to tear his hair out, if he wasn't already getting teases about going bald. He wasn't. It wouldn't surprise Rowland if the cover story, for surely that's what it was because Rebecca's visions never lied, was Damocles' own invention! 'Everything was fine and dandy and we puked butterflies and rainbows and ate candy made out of sunshine and everything was grand and glorious.' If Rowland was there, he would have had plenty of other, much more believable and entertaining accounts. Like a meteorite landing. He shook his head slowly, leaning off the wooden shelves to do that because it wasn't very comfortable.* The same reason they don't tell us when 'sleepover' or 'studying' actually means rave party, maybe. They don't want to hear no for something they're going to do anyways. *At that moment, he much rather have Blair walking around in a permanent bikini, as long as she was -here-. He reached for Rebecca's hand and squeezed it.* And I think they wanted to spare us the decision of...tagging along. *No matter how much he thought of traveling back sometimes, he knew he couldn't. And he didn't have the ability to go back either, not without Brandin's help, and he was only doing it to get Alec and Blair (and Jesse and Sid and Bhavi) back to the correct century. (Well, and obviously the man cared about the children who so affectionately called him uncle but heaven help Rowland whenever he tried to point it out.) Every day that they couldn't find when Alec and Blair were meant another day of them stuck in the past...Rowland was only relieved that his children would have gone to Damocles. Damocles would keep them safe, of that he had no doubt.* Maybe we're going about this the wrong way.

Rebecca: But we pretend not to know those are what they mean. *Well, mostly. Her voice was as tired as the rest of her, incredulity and confusion on her face more than anger or disbelief. The truth was it was hard for them to keep something from her, and they knew that - but she didn't think that having a Seer for a mother should mean they had to live a different teenage life than everyone else. As much as she could help it, anyways. Then again, they were already magical, and had parents born in different centuries...they were never going to live normal lives, she knew that, they were proud of it. Maybe if she had talked to them about it more, about the realities of that time period instead of their romance, and the story they made a bedtime fairytale - maybe if they'd just spent more time...she sighed, eyes darting to see her husband's hand in hers. Smiling small, she looked back at him.* Well, they always did care too much about taking care of us too. 

*Furrowing her brow, she said quietly,* Blair didn't write it in her diary... *And God, how she had hated skimming that for clues, it had been the last of her daughters books she'd looked through and even then she had stared at it's blue velvet cover for ten minutes first. It felt such an invasion of privacy she had covered the pages with a torn spare post it, and skimmed as fast as possible, careful to avoid anything that mentioned the name 'Kale' and only look for dates. Their daughter had written extensively on the 'wicked idea to go." Her heart had ached reading how desperately they wanted to see their grandparents and Rowland's family -- a desire she knew he harbored and had from the day he arrived. But nothing specific. Nothing in Alec's schoolbooks either (though Brandin had startled over -some-thing in them and hurried off to his lab for two hours, before returning and declaring 'it was possible' with an expression that meant he was both tired and proud of Stones outsmarting him. It had made her smile, if only for a moment, for Alec figuring out how to take them back didn't surprise her - her son was brilliant. And confounding Fayes was what they did best, as Rowland had joked.* 

They didn't even know what they were going back to, not truly. *That was what hurt her the most. They had no idea the war they were walking into, no idea the danger they were putting themselves in as the purebloods had seen fit to lie and erase it from the damn books. And they were supposed to be back. That's what Kale and Dair had said, what Patti had, what all their confidants had -- and cursed as she was, she knew they were telling the truth. Only she knew already why they weren't back. She'd seen that first. The crumbling marble column danced in front of her eyes again until she shut them. She rubs her forehead, tired and honestly--she wanted a drink, only she had pushed that feeling off for ages, needing her mind sharp.*  There has to be a bloody account of that attack -- -something-, they couldn't have gotten rid of it all. 

*The trouble being that it appeared they had done a damn thorough job of simply erasing that what they couldn't change. Whole families seemed to disappear, and many more without family names. A pit fell in her stomach like the worm sinking to the bottom of a tequila bottle, squirming as it drowned. But Rebecca couldn't assume that meant they were dead -- she knew already it hadn't meant Rowland was, even when the history books had screamed at her the man beside her couldn't have been alive. From an open book across the table, she paused, seeing the name 'Stone' and as ever feeling hopeful despite the fact there were a bloody lot of Stones. Pulling it over, she blinked in surprise -- and then smiled, tapping it.* 

Well. Hey, at least we know your brother won an archery competition in 1901. *Little Mitchell...lord, was it odd to think of him older than nine. Heart clenching as she thought 'imagine how Rowland had to feel', she looked back with a determined smile and understanding eyes beneath a wiggling brow.* I'm not surprised. We did see him pierce a dragon's wing with an arrow. *She tilted her head looking at the handwritten account, dug up as it was from the Fayes personal accounts, amused to see Damocles' handwriting. It wasn't as though that was unusual: the man had never stopped journaling or writing. He was a historians best friend in that regard. Oh, and he wasn't self-aggrandizing in it at all. But neither was she surprised to see him making comments on members of Rowland's family; his handwriting often creeped up around them. It always made her smile, even seeing the slight flush in Rowland's ears at her remarks. 

Reciting aloud,* So...we can add that to the list of certain facts. *Which were ridiculously few.* George was named chief councillor few years after we left, he married Adelina. Malcolm not only lived, but he was in detention loads in Hogwarts, and then there was that one article about him and Derrick's son, at that Easter Ball? The Brackners have some kind of super-powered sperm. The baby Evelyn was pregnant with was named Jane, and she published a book. *She gestured to an old, faded copy on the stack.* Number of them, really, all fiction. She got some award for her creativity of inventing the civil war in it, which there's no way that was her imagination and I'm betting that award was actually for reporting. Er--your nephew Wilson, became Damocles' son's manservant. Oh and Leah achieved that dream of hers of becoming a knight. Do you remember anything else? *She sighed, rubbing her forehead, as if it would suddenly appear on the page, the date that Alec & Blair arrived. She'd thought Damocles would have written about it, dammit, but through six years of his journals she hadn't found anything -- anything except the fact that Brandin couldn't find the years 1902 until 1907, save some entries from 1906 about a wedding. At Rowland's words her expression clouded -- Brandin had said pointedly to her under his breath earlier when he let them into the library that he didn't know why they continued looking for records, when she knew to do. Biting her lip and frowning again, she looked at their joined hands and squeezed.* If only I could have a vision with something more specific...but we'll find something, sweetheart, we have to. Far too many people were in that attack for it to just be gone...

Rowland: *Actually, at first Rowland thought that was exactly what those were. And at the beginning they were...then his children grew, and they learned to lie with the truths. They didn't like to lie to them, that much calmed him at least, but they also knew they could lie to him far more easier than they could lie to Rebecca. Which was never. It proved particular useful sometimes, but he knew Becca tried to give them as much privacy as possible. But these were desperate times, of course, and Rowland had made sure to stay far away from Blair's diary. Quite frankly, there were some things that a father should never ever have to know about his children. But no matter how many possessions they went through, there was still nothing to be found. He had talked to Jesse's mother and Sid's parents to ask if they would have kept anything behind that might have been a clue but there was nothing. And man, had it been difficult weeks ago to explain to them the fact their children were stuck in another century. Jesse's mother and sister were particularly hysterical.* They thought they were going back to a peaceful time...they picked a time where they thought they would be safe...*It wasn't their fault, it wasn't even the pureblood's fault for covering it up; how were they supposed to know that there would be people time traveling? Well, it was a irksome still, not to mention completely dishonest. How many other things in history had been a lie? He already had to hear from Alec how Jesus had been born sometime between April and July, not December. Rowland didn't think he could take another hit at this point. Lips flicking briefly, he not-very-quickly did the calculation in his head of how old Mitchell must have been when he won that...twenty six? God, and that had been so long ago, before he had left England. Well, Giselle assumes that's what happened. Mitch's fate was one of high debate in their family even now. 

Some say he became part of the mafia which was ridiculous because his little brother would have never...It was at times like this that he had to remember that people grew, people changed, he didn't know much of anything about the people his family had grown to be, save for whatever was salvaged.* After giving me a heart attack, I remember. *Recalling things that had actually happened nearly a century and a half ago no longer seemed odd to him, that was simply part of who he was. His friends had eventually learned to go along with his train of thought as well. Smiling still, he nodded as she picked up her list to recite what they knew so far. Wasn't very much. He picked up the book from the stack. Rowland had read it, it was actually quite good but it all seemed so...familiar and at the same time, completely foreign. It wasn't a feeling he particularly liked. He didn't want to imagine his children in a similar environment, he could practically feel his blood pressure rise by the moment.* There was something about a scandal involving an illegitimate daughter of a politician? And Damocles and Maeve set up a grant for Esther's school...*Damocles had once spoken of building a school, but Esther apparently had beat him to it so by the end, the only thing left to provide was some supplies and the wages. He was proud, of both of them. His little baby sister Esther, wood carver extraordinaire...Rowland learned from Giselle long ago she married a carpenter, it seemed fitting. Returning his gaze back to hers, he bit his lip for a moment.* It's been weeks, love...*And he would look for more weeks if it was necessary, for months, but he didn't want it to be that long, he couldn't deal with that, they both couldn't. He put his other hand on top of hers, cradling it. He remembered the first time he held her hand, so many years ago, could recall it as if it was yesterday. Though, perhaps that wasn't the best of sayings, given that he wasn't sure what he had for breakfast yesterday.* You've forced a vision before, darling. You've gotten names and memories- personal details no one else could have known. *He squeezed her hands* You know our children better than anyone else, you can tap into them easier...I think you should try. 

Rebecca: *All thoughts were driven out trying to liken the scandal in the book to one in history, or of how proud she was of the school. She even forgot for a moment that it had been weeks since she'd seen her babies -- well, they weren't babies anymore, they had grown up, and she was proud of them for it, but dammit they were still her babies -- as her husband reminded her gently of something she hated thinking about. Anger and guilt twisted in her stomach as her gaze dropped to their grasped hands. Flashes filled her mind's eye; image of a man she loathed sitting with endless patience in a high-backed chair smirking at her filled her mind's eye, him a hundred years before that still a man, broken down as he cradled the body of the woman he'd loved -- the image of him killing all those people with pure, animalistic viral rage -- a rage present then and now in her own gut -- the way he'd faltered when she'd said her name -- Natalie -- the way he snapped, the feel of his teeth scraping, biting, sinking into her neck -- she snapped a free hand up to it, cupped and squeezed hard. Her eyes swimming with tears, she flicked her gaze back up to her husband, feeling more guilty for the fact she knew already he was right, even as she said,* I can't. *She whispered, licking along her bottom lip.* Rowland I-- I can't. I was so angry - I wanted to kill him -- I changed, I - I stabbed Marcus.  *Still, all these years later she didn't feel right saying anything but his name, and still she ignored how easily she spoke it. A tear slid down her cheek.* I don't know how to do that again. I don't want to be that person again, I just. *She shakes her head, hair flying off her shoulders and drops the book, holding on to her husband's hand harder as she lets her eyes shut. He was right and she knew it. And if there was anything she could be that angry about again, the answer came to her instinctively: if her children were in danger, there was bleeding nothing she wouldn't do. Heart hammering and hand slipping from her neck to her lips, she opened her eyes slowly, looking over his shoulder to fix distantly on the cart in the corner, filled with alcohol. Well, perhaps she wouldn't mind a drink after all. It appeared it wasn't a sharp mind she needed.* 

Rowland: You can. *He said it so sure of himself of her, even as he hated himself a little for having to remind her, for seeing her eyes water, tears ready to spill.* I know you don't want to but you could. Hatred for Marcus, wanting to hurt him, made you see those things but this is for our children, sweetheart. *A hand came up to cup her cheek and brush away the tear that had spilled, and kept his hand there to gather whichever ones would continue to fall.* Yes, you changed...we all changed that day. Ultimately, it made us stronger, it made us who we are today. And, I think we're pretty wicked, if I do say so myself, at least Alec's team say it...then again, they're mostly talking about you and include me so I don't kick them out after practices but, that is completely and utterly besides the point- *focus, right. He could still veer away off topic even in his older years. He squeezed her hand, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, exhaling.* Rebecca, sweetheart, look at me. The same way I was there with you all those years ago to pull you back, I'm here now. I would do anything for you and Alec and Blair, and I know you'd do the same...*he nodded slowly, biting his bottom lip before admitting quietly.* I hate to ask this of you. 

Rebecca: *Eyes wide and watering, her bottom lip trembled until his thumb grazed against the pink flesh, brushing it up. Or perhaps it was the ramble. Her husband had an easy way of talking, his words slipped out in one long stream-of-consciousness thought that always made her think that for as hilarious as he could be aloud, his head had to be even funnier. She envied that sometimes: wishing she could hear him all the time, everything, to never have to be apart from him. And then again on particular peak moments of frustration with chores or the like, she admitted, perhaps not. Now it only made her smile - nodding shallow to ensure she didn't move his hand. Trust and adoration in her gaze as she opened her mouth, her words were quiet.* I know. And I know why you ask, you're right. I just...*She seizes, and then holds his hand tighter, breathing in and out. If she was going to try...she tried to remember what she had even done that day, but all she could remember was anger. Visceral, red-hot, burning-in-her-blood ire. She swallowed tightly. If anger was a conduit as much as her dreams had been, fear working on a relaxed mind...why couldn't love be? Why shouldn't the near desperation she felt and all-consuming love fuel a vision? Wasn't that why she had seen that ballroom explode in the first place? Breathing in and out heavily again, she let her eyes flutter open and gently pulled her hand from his. She stood.* I'll try. *She kept her gaze on him hard, cupping her hands behind her back, thinking to pace - thinking she had to have blood pumping, adrenaline, something. After three quick strides around the table, she cupped the back of the chair, and leaned closer, staring at the grain in the wood. Thinking what she had done...she stilled and then looked back at her husband saying quietly,* Can you...talk? Just tell me of them? *What was killing her was the thought she had to think of them in danger. That was the thought that made her blood boil. Their babies...* 

Rowland: *He nodded, knowing that was all he was asking, for her to try. If she couldn't, if it proved too much, then they would go back and look through whatever books remained for clues. No matter how hopeless it might have seemed to continue to do so, Rowland was of the believe that nothing was ever hopeless, not really. He had seen and been part of so many extraordinary things in his life in both centuries. The fact that he could say he was technically from two different centuries was extraordinary in of itself. No one could ever discourage Rowland from anything, not even from a sale. The moment he heard the words 'impossible', he would just remind himself that he had already done that; everything else was easy by comparison. He tried to tell himself that know, but he wasn't the one putting in the effort, it was his wife Rebecca, trying to tap in to a part of herself he knew she detested. That part of themselves they had discovered that day, and spent hours together trying to get past. He watched her walk up and down, patiently, willing to give her as much time as she needed (lack of time was an issue they had beaten before). Head lifting at her request, Rowland didn't think to question it at that moment and nodded. Talking, God, that was easy for him. And about their children, even more so.* Do you know that Alec still has that model train set you gave him for his 5th birthday? I found it in one of the boxes he had stashed in the bigger box, that he'd stash in the biggest box- yeah, well, I found it, along with every single birthday card he's ever gotten and report card. He's a bigger pack rat than Blair, though Blair doesn't hide it. I'm afraid to go into her room sometimes...most times, really. It's a miracle I don't trip over a pile of clothing every time I do walk in. Clothing that looks decidedly more covering on the floor than they ever are on her by the way. I'm still hoping it's a phase, fingers crossed, and that the next one doesn't involve a nudist colony. Though if it's true, she's been in that phase since that one day when she was seven and you said she could pick out her own clothes- do you remember that wonderfully colorful combination? The big yellow hat and the two polka dotted shirts and the tutu? All the beads and the sunglasses bigger than her face?  *He chuckled, his memory vivid enough that he could practically see his daughter now as she was when she was seven. He rubbed at his eyes a moment and then added with a smile* That one time Blair backed the car into the neighbor's lawn, breaking their prize winning hand carved garden gnome collection and Alec took the blame for it? I almost believed it, no I did believe it, when he stepped in and told Blair to stop covering for him. *But there was no lying to Rebecca, obviously, and she had told Rowland the truth after they had sent the pair of them inside of the house to try to diffuse the situations with the Jameson's.* And when Blair tried to let Alec in through the back door at the crack of dawn the first time he stayed out all night? They're always watching out for each other, always. We did right by them, love, they are...extraordinary, magnificent, devilish children. Teenagers- they'll be adults in two shakes of a lamb's tail really, God, do they grow up fast. *He sniffed again, having to clear his throat.* Whenever they are, they'll look out for one another, keep each other safe, it's what they do. *They had to be safe, they had to be. There was no other alternative, Rowland couldn't accept any other alternative.*

Rebecca: *A smile cracking over her lips as she listened-- she nodded first, eyes riveted on her husband, every minute gesture seeming harder than she ever thought. The mental images helped. She saw Blair's room - which nearly a month later she still had not cleaned - and Alec's model train set - and how he'd set the tracks up through the kitchen from under his birthday cake on all day, how she'd tripped and then hurried repaired the track with a wave of her wand, praying he never noticed. She saw that first outfit of Blair's, saying wry,* I remember Mum yelling at me for the fact she didn't match. *But the moment she spoke she shut her eyes, listening hard, seeing the smoke behind the car, the shattered pieces of the gnome -- agreeing and believing Rowland when he said they would looked after each other -- before the thought of her child driving lit aflame the inherent fear she had every time they were behind the wheel. That flame fanned as she thought how worried she was discovering Alec not in his bed -- a fear ten-thousand times worse now to discover them not in the right century -- and she frowned, breathing hard, shutting her eyes, wishing an instant that 'the Jamesons' was actually whiskey, she could diffuse this situation with that. It didn't bloody matter they looked after each other, she thought, as warming a thought as it was -- if they took after their parents, and Lord knew they apparently did more than they knew -- they also would throw themselves in front of a bus to save those they loved, and her heart went cold at the thought. Find them, she thought, trying to picture what Blair would have compromised to ear-- trying to think what coverstory Alec would have offered Damocles -- how creative it would be, how large Damocles' confusion, how gleefully Blair would have hugged her grandmother, all her cousins and aunts and uncles -- actually, at that, Helena and Vlad, and Maeve -- Maeve -- Rebecca's breath cut out and she seized. 

Going deaf to Rowland's words she panicked, breathless and leaned forward over the chair through a flash of images, a rush of sounds: two little kids practicing levitating in a tree; the pair of them sparring with sticks while a third looked on; flames erupting in a stiff, night sky, a gut-wrenching yell of 'you can't do this' in that furious lordly tone; a young child stuffing bread in his mouth as he goaded his friend to ask 'Bri' for a dance, his friend glaring in response at his retreating back while he went to grab someone else to dance ; a teenage girl with a sword on her hip snapped something about pyromaniacs ; a lilac gown ; wedding vows ; a torn scrap of a parchment with a reward offered for any information on -- no --  ; and then trumpets blasted in her ear, announcing foreign dignitaries arrival and an older André appeared, Leanne on his arm. Rebecca flinched, her hand covering her ears despite the futility of it as she saw Leanne curtsy to Evelyn and Garrett -- and then it was the ballroom again, the crumbling marble, and she was shaking, shaking as she recognized her children, saw them grab at each other and spin the other out of harms way -- saw the flash of green -- saw a man crumple, neck snapped, and the horror on the young Lord's face who had done it, gripping a girl's hand tighter.

She focused forcibly, visibly shaking with the effort; saw Alec and Blair waking up the next day, her heart pounding and aching with the urge to reach across time and wrap Alec in a hug as she saw his fury, wanting to take the pain for him, wanting only to see him smile again -- and then naturally she did, laying in the grass with his sister at his side, pointing at the sky above them -- saw Blair dancing -- Alec playing cards in the tavern -- the pair of them at the blacksmith's, being taught how to use a hammer -- climbing trees and shooting arrows with their father's youngest brother -- a date, she reminded herself, distracted to see her daughter wearing so many clothes. The connection tenuous at best, she forced past flashes of hugs and tears, flying fists and disappointed fathers, arrows stalling a carriage delegation and a home in the mountains, a man chained up while his friend cried, past two kissing reunited --  until suddenly she saw Maeve embrace Blair tightly -- her daughter crying -- saw Alec screaming -- the back of a councillor, a spinning carriage wheel in mud, rain pounding down, the door slamming shut on her daughter -- no, a cage, no, a dungeon door and it wasn't her daughter - it was a proper lady, smiling proudly. And the woman stood with dignity -- that is, until she saw left alone, and then she fell to the ground behind bars, skirt billowing in the dirt and wept. 

Only aware next of Rowland's face, the images already tangling and mashing in her head, Rebecca's eyes snapped open. Heart thudding and limbs loose she gave way to sitting, mouth gasping for water or something, furious that she couldn't see more as much as she was that she'd forced anything at all. Realizing her husband already held a water glass she lifted her chin, stole it and took a sip before reaching up to kiss him -- hard. When she broke away, unaware of the tears on her cheeks, she said first softly,* They are, looking out for each other. I think they might even be having a swell time...mostly. *She flinched, gasping out and took another sip of the water. With her eyes still on the floor, trying to sort through the mess, knowing only a few things had stood out to her -- and not knowing how to tell Rowland what she had seen of his youngest brother. So instead she focuses on the last one, breathing harshly, the last image most vivid, perhaps only because it was most recent. She whispered,* Maeve was in jail. 

Rowland: *He stopped speaking as he saw Rebecca's gaze turn blank on her surroundings eyes closing soon after, her grip on the back of the chair increased, left her knuckles as white as chalk. White chalk, not the multicolored ones Blair bought every summer so she could draw on the sidewalk. He moved towards Rebecca again, standing near, arms and hands hovering protectively over her. His eyes were wide as he saw her expressions: distraught, disbelieving, afraid. Visibly startling as her hands went to cover her ears, he only wished he could know what it was that she was seeing and at the same time, not. His wife was much stronger than he ever was or could be. Rowland hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until he suddenly exhaled when she finally opened her eyes. Seeing her knees buckle and her mouth gasp, he brings out the chair, and then fumbles in his jacket for his wand, conjuring a glass of water for her. He watched her taking a lengthy sip before he found his mouth meeting hers in a hard kiss and it was his turn to drink her in. Breaking away breathless, he wiped the tears from her cheeks softly, exhaling as he hears she's seen Alec and Blair. About to ask what she had seen, what she could discern, he felt a cold chill run down his spine.* She was arrested?! That's impossible, there's no...*He sighed, rubbing his face. He was about to say 'record' but of course there wasn't one, there weren't any records of anything like that.* And she was arrested while Alec and Blair are there? That's as much of a date as we're going to get- we have to tell Brandin.

Rebecca: *Shaking, she rubs the back of her neck, realizing the cold sweat dripping down her spine. Swallowing tightly, she stayed sitting as her knees felt far too weak to support her. Realizing a ravenous hunger on top of everything she sighed, leaning closer to her husband, terror in her eyes as she tried to sort through images that flew from her mind too fast. Fixing her gaze on Rowland, she gripping his hands and wishing she could somehow rely simply on his strength. Sweaty fingers grasping his, she pressed her lips together, afraid suddenly to tell him what she had seen as much as she was of the images themselves: for one thing stuck out in her mind.* I agree. *It was a quiet hiss.* But ... Rowland there...there was something else. *Biting her lip hard, she tasted blood. Gaze fluttering to there hands she said instead with a broken smile.* Well. A few things. Apparently, Mitchell and Leah have more in common than rebellious streaks. *That, was much easier to focus on: the image of them embracing in a fierce hug.*

Rowland: *Leaning against the table, he held her to him with an arm around her shoulders, holding her hand tightly, frowning as he realized how clammy they felt all of a sudden. It had been years since Rebecca had a vision, let alone one that she forced on herself. Turning his gaze on her directly, his head tilted in confusion and curiosity. Something else, what could it be?* Mitch and Leah? *He knew the two were becoming friends by the time Rowland had been pulled to the future, well, maybe friends was a hopeful term.* What else is there, then? Is it about Mitchell?...*A part of him was nervous to know, but the rest of him yearned for some news of his brother, the one who had evaded leaving down a legacy to track down, the one he knew least about.*

Rebecca: *At first all she could do was nod. It was a usual burden - the thought of knowing something she shouldn't, knowing it would pain one she loved and wondering if she had to tell. But it was not one she'd had in years. Nodding slowly yet, she thought for a moment she was crying...before realizing, her eyes watered for she had not blinked in minutes. Blinking rapidly, she squeezed his hand tighter.* Yes. Your brother... *She bit her lip, exhaling, and then decided only to relay.* He...well, I saw him as a teenager goading a friend of his - did you know a Wyatt? To dance with some girl...and then he yanked Leah into a hug in another...*She didn't know what to call it; separate visions? Images? She swallowed, and reached to finish the water off.* And then he was firing arrows at some...stopped, besieged caravan...the wheel was spinning...*She bit her lip hard, knowing none of these were what had her terrified and heartbroken. Quietly--so quietly--she looked down, staring at the ripples of the water glass as she added,* ...and there was a warrant for his arrest. Huge reward, actually.

Rowland: *He moved to sit on the chair beside her slowly, careful not to let her slip out of his grasp. He licked his lips, nodding silently at her question. They were almost damn well inseperable the pair of them weren't they? Mitch was always dodging his chores at the farm to run into the town and pull Wyatt and his other friends along. There hadn't been a person in town that didn't know those four rascals by name and deed. He pursed his lips as he waited, figuring that Rebecca simply had to work her way through it, it wasn't unexpected or unfamiliar, it had just been a long time. He frowned to hear that Mitchell would be firing arrows at anybody to begin with, and wondering about reasons that were unknown to him and Rebecca both. Looking up suddenly, his mouth was left open as he tried to process what his wife had just said.* Arrest? But...no, no, he can't have done anything...did it say *he cleared his throat, forcing himself to continue the question* what for?

Rebecca: *Guilt twisted her stomach seeing the shock, anger and hurt that seized her husband's overly expressive face. Squeezing his hands she shifted in the chair, trying to pull him in, afraid she couldn't hold up both of them. As she shifted she lifted her legs, annoyed how light and weak they still seemed, and then curled up against his side. Her eyes shut, trying to remember the words on the parchment, knowing it was her daughter's hands gripping the side of it and feeling fear twist her stomach anew. How remarkably flexible it appeared to be! As much as her legs were weak, it seemed. And still it hungered: for answers, she thought, as much as food. With her eyes still shut, she winced and looked back at him.* Treason. And... *And rape, and murder, but did she have to tell her husband that? Overtop herself, she said hurriedly,* But...but Rowland, if Maeve is arrested, if she's in jail, if they're fighting a war, it ... must be a lie, must be that someone's framing him. *She might have only met him as a child, but it didn't matter to Rebecca. He was Rowland's kin. That meant more. It also meant there was a chance...* ...Mitchell...do you think he had magic? I--did you ever notice? 

Rowland: *It was bad then, he realized when Rebecca didn't finish the thought. If treason was the least worrying one, Rowland could only imagine what else it could be. It had to be wrong, a mistake, a lie, somehow. Mitchell might have been a scamp and a prat, but surely he could never had turned into this type of man. Their dad would have boxed his ears and only if mum hadn't gotten to him first. It was difficult to think about them like this, knowing that while they weren't alive now, they were at some point, some time. It wasn't just fondly remembering as he had been for so long. He nodded absently, rubbing at his face before he answered easily.* Yes, I knew so. I left him one of my books, the one Ephraim left to me before he was executed. *One of the many casualties of Merwyn's misplaced sense of justice.* He always so proud about it, so angry towards the nobles for us having to live in hiding...*God, that was another lifetime ago.* I don't understand.

Caspian: You seem surprised. *The words were teasing, fake hurt in his voice though he did not turn to look at Angela, not yet. Caspian popped his top few buttons loose, brushing against his neck in a careless gesture before reaching for the bar. As he poured the brandy, his black eyes bored into the swirling amber liquid as if it would provide all his answers. At least drive the image of Joseph taking miss-soon-to-be-wife's hand and looking over his shoulder at him before walking away. Oh, he understood: the scandal today made it all the more important he win, that they behave appropriate in public, oh, he got it. Cas plugged the stopper into the bottle hard, the ringing of striking glass barely heard. Still, he smirked as he lifted the tumblers, and spun mid sentence,* Landscape photographs and Dickens not really...seem my style, hm? *He handed a glass to her, taking his own sip before looking at the black and white photo himself, eyes narrowed critically in appreciation.* 

Angela: *She smirked as she looked around his chambers, a chuckle seemed almost stuck in her throat. Yes, she was surprised actually, and god knew it was difficult for her to admit so, given than she preferred to think she expected the unexpected. That said, it seemed to be that everything at this court was destined to leave her surprised. The sudden turn of events at court was one that left her mouth open in shock. Angela had not cried out or cried or any of the sort because the man meant nothing to her, but it did not take away from the fact that it was startling. A man's life exterminated so easily...if he had been hanged, at least there would have been witnesses, people there to remember the fact you had been at one moment alive, kicking until the very end, but dying alone? That was the worst. She definitely needed a drink after that, and Cas didn't look cheery either though she suspected his subtle brooding stemmed from something or someone else entirely; Angela knew heartache when she saw it, even though she couldn't say she personally knew much about it. She didn't bring it up; she was not that type of girl. Not today, at least.* No, but the liquor in your chambers does. *she took the glass with a silent gratitude, and took a sip. Oh, that was good. There would be no going back to the cheap things she was used to, she knew that by now; that was going to cause her problems she could tell.* you have a gentle soul don't you? *she half teased as she swirled the drink around before standing up straighter when she noticed something about the photograph and then asked curiously* This was developed on a plate instead of on film, wasn't it?

Caspian: Gentle. *Aha. He would snort, but the gesture was horribly unattractive: instead he smirked behind the glass, licked his bottom lip, and took another drink and gasp. Cocking an eyebrow, he responded lightly,* Not usually my style either, I'm afraid. *Oh, but he had the feeling Angela would appreciate that. Eyes wide with his own appreciative smirk as his gaze flicked from the photograph to her. His words were teasing, playful.* You have quite the eye, Miss Elder. Not many notice that. *The corner of his lips curled.* But then, you notice what most don't often.

Angela: *Hmm, well, when he put it in that perspective, no, she did not associate him with being gentle any longer. How mighty cruel of him, to have her imagination getting away with her already; Angela approved.* Ah, another thing we have in common. *Caspian in reality was the closest to the type of man she would have enjoyed for more than one night, though that was also her being superficial because he was exquisite. Turning to look at him again, she wet her bottom lip before taking another sip, speaking after letting the glass fall from her parted lips* Oh, I make a habit of it. And yet *she lifted a finger off the glass to point at him*  Something about I can't quite put my finger on...unfortunately, that is entirely too accurate in a literal sense as well.

Caspian: *Gaze following her finger, his lips curled above the rim of his glass.* Indeed? *His gaze dropped to her shoes, the black rims peeking out between a dress he knew had scandalized the old ladies more than the news of an innocent man's dead--because it was just unseemly, you see-- but which he very much enjoyed. Gaze flicking back up, he took a steadying sip, dropping the glass to the table beneath his photograph.* Oh? *His gaze lingered with his fingers on the lip of the glass.* A shameful situation--*his gaze flicked back to hers as his hand slipped across hardwood to take her hip instead, pulling her in, contrary to his words, without shame. He smirked.* I'll just have to remedy that. *Only polite, after all, he thought amused with a pleasant buzz of adrenaline and alcohol and something else he dare not name making him reckless enough to squeeze and crash his lips to hers.*

Angela: Hmm. *It was as vocal an agreement as she would offer on that, for it she started talking about details of which she could not figure out, she knew it would bother incessantly and that wasn't something she wanted to focus on. Bringing the glass up to her lips again to take a lengthy swallow of the drink, a small gasp left her mouth then as she was pulled in so quickly, her lips widening in a delighted smirk as a familiar warmth started to spread. Her glass rested forgotten on the table, at least she hadn't dropped it, by the time their lips met in a hard kiss. Angela felt as if a switch had been flicked, as if electricity all but ran through her. Her hands dug into his short but soft hair, tugging on black strands as she grazed his tongue with her own, pulling his bottom lip into her mouth. Gentle was the last thing she wanted, how true. She didn't want to be treated delicately, as if she could easily break. She was human; she wanted scars scratches and bruises. She wanted life.*

Caspian: *Slanting his mouth with hers in a dance of tongue and teeth, he considered only a moment the irony of her calling him gentle. He knew what she wanted then, this night, full of virile purpose and dark heat, and he gave it to her - lifting her with one arm around her hips and the other passing through silky brown hair - because deep down, he craved it too. Needed it too; his mind yearned to forget, his spirit craved life, his body was aching for relief, for her. For her scent, her taste, her warmth pressed against him.  It had been from the moment he saw her, and tonight, goddammit--she'd bit his lip--he gave in. It wasn't sweet. Lips on bruising skin, teeth nipping and tearing before tongues hot and deliciously red soothed wounds neither quite knew the true origin of. His hand slid flat down her chest, taking too long to find the laces and settling for finding his penknife and cutting through the constricting corset. Well. She had asked. The knife clattered to the ground, bouncing off the table he was leaning her against, to join books littering the expensive carpet.* 

Angela: *She felt renewed upon inhaling a deep, and sweet breath once she was free of the corset, not realizing until then that she had been dizzy from the lack of air, so caught up she was in him . It wasn't her favorite corset to begin with, and soon enough it wasn't even on her mind anymore. Similarly her hands traveled to his shirt, the top buttons already opened, giving her a teasing view of hard lines of muscle but it was not enough. Good lord, she knew that when she felt like this, like her skin was on fire, like her desire rushed through her veins instead of blood, nothing was enough. Tearing away the rest of the buttons of his shirt, they fell in a clatter around them like so many things already had, and they were ignored just like the rest. A hand traced the newly exposed skin, nails dragging across the rippled skin of his carved stomach, the other pushing the shirt off his shoulders insistently. Her mouth hot against his again, breath coming in pants, she was alive. Alive, not dead. And so was he, bloody hell (she let out a short breathless laugh as she realized she was thinking in British now, before crashing her mouth against his again) was he alive.*

Caspian: *Letting her strip him -- oh, and literally too -- he was too focused on her, frankly willing to use magic to make all fabric disappear if he could remember the blasted spell. Hissing as her nails scraped his skin through a smirk of pleasure born of pain he turned to pepper kisses down the soft flash of her throat. The corset gone, he cupped one hand on her hip to press her against him even if it bunched her skirt up slowly, the other cupping, kneading, squeezing, massaging her chest--every crevice of skin he could. Remembering how she had teased him about being selfish -- well yes, yes he bloody was, and he took what he wanted, but in this he was determined to bring her to pleasure first -- his hand slid under her bunched skirt to find the tight little bundle of nerves first, index finger trailing over it, before sliding down to part folds already wet (he smirked), carress -- and actually, come to think of it, he knew damn well he could bring her to pleasure twice first.*

Angela: *Her eyes drifted close as he cupped and toyed with her breasts, sighs of pleasure leaving her mouth as she arched her chest. A quiet moan of anticipation raked through her as she felt his arousal, hard and stiff, against her leg and she pressed herself closer to him, her actions no longer hers, but rather having a mind of their own. Licking her lips, her hands went to free him of his pants, but her expert fingers slipped across the button as his hand found her wetness, bringing much wanted friction, the moan was hot against his ear. Eyes hazy as she looked up at him, the smirk on his face brought one of her own, the pleased and amused expression still on her face as she tilted her head back and moaned again, rotating her hips against his fingers. She made another attempt at his trousers, grabbing them by the waistband and pulling him in further. Once the button was off, she kept tugging down without bothering with the rest; she was impatient.*

Caspian: *Lord, was she testing him. And look, even managing to make him pray--another thing not exactly his style. But then everything was out the window today--if the events at the square started it (but that and Joseph with his bloody fiancee were far from his mind) -- he had to say, he much preferred this. A hard, hot gasp left his lips on her chest as she tugged him free - fucking finally- the hand roaming her back came up and grabbed her wrist. A manic heat in his darkened eyes as he looked at held her gaze, he shook his head an inch.* Patience is a virtue, darling. *The crooning left his smirk before he stole another kiss - and as he did,  scissoring his fingers inside, crooking to find that particular spot again, and again, even with his grip tightening on her wrist to stay himself from using that rather optimal position. Gasping against her parted lips, his eyes clouded in lust, he scissored again with his mutter,* You wouldn't want to surrender that to me all at once.

Angela: *Oh, that was just unfair. Her eyes narrowed in a playful glare as he stilled her wrist, plump and swollen lips arranged in a pout that faded away as he kissed again, fingers moving inside of her as he did. Her free hand held his hair, tugging on it hard as she gasped against his mouth every time his fingers curled against that spot inside her that drove her crazy. As he scissored again and again even as he continued to talk, she felt herself peaking. She had been too wound up, too excited and now her mouth remained open against his in a silent moan, a shudder rocking through her as she bucked against his fingers. Opening her eyes again to look at him, she attacks his mouth with hers again, her limbs loosened but never weak. Hooking a leg behind his waist, she used the grip in his hair to tilt his head back and expose his throat to her. Her teeth dragged and her tongue soothed, lips sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth before gasping, the aftershocks of her pleasure only fueled further by his insistent fingers.* You fucking Brits and your virtues. *She smirked against his neck, a throaty laugh leaving her lips as she tilted her head back again before returning to him.* I want your cock inside me now. *She nipped at his earlobe, her breath tickling his skin* I need you to fuck me raw and senseless...*she moaned again, her entire body feeling deliciously aflame, hot against his, wonderfully electric. Smirking again, she leaned and proposed the challenge, the tease, knowing all men aimed to prove themselves.* ...for as long as you last.

Caspian: *Battering down a moan of want - of need - he smirked against her scarlet skin, pressing deeper into her flesh, kissing hard to bruise - to mark - so she would see later and remember. He needed her to. Seeing her all nice and loose - fuck was she intoxicating as she came on his command - only drove him wild, as filthy words dripped from her swollen lips. Cas thought in that moment he would never be with a proper British lady again, and didn't think about the underlying truth of his words. The challenge issued, fuck if he wasn't going to take that - Cas might be a reckless fool, but he was not one prone to waste - he slid his fingers free, replacing in an instant as she asked. And fuck, was she perfect. Tight heat enveloping him drawing him further in her cunt - he bet it looked perfect too, all pink and dripping open for him - he lifted fingers still coated in her honey to lather a hard nipple before sucking it into his mouth. He panted, stilled, then pulled out and thrust again, grinding his hip to hers.*

Angela: *A high, sharp moan was all she could manage out when he did as she had said, stretching and filling her so deliciously she could almost feel the taste of satisfaction in her mouth. His expert mouth landed on her chest, taking a stiff pink bud in his mouth, causing her to moan again. Putting a hand behind her on the table, grabbing the edge, she anchored herself to better match his thrusts, canting her hips towards his . He pulled out and thrust in all the way in again with a sweet force, hips grinding together to offer more friction to her sensitive clit. Each time it seemed as if he went deeper and deeper into her, her moans and gasps breathless as she reveled in the sensation. Her leg around his waist helping to pull him back into her, her free hand dug into his shoulder and back, leaving crescent moon marks behind.*

Caspian: *Spirited on as he was by her sounds, his eyes shut as the world devolved into taste and feel, determined to build slow even as he fought a natural inclination towards speed. Wrapped around him, he almost would believe she was fucking him, not the other way around. His smirk of appreciation only widened at the thought as he fought to take his time playing each nerve in her lithe - fuck, she was so responsive - body as it stretched around him, squeezed him, with unerring skill. His lips sought every inch of her, his hand slipped between them to tease that bundle of nerves with the single minded purpose of driving her over the edge around her, before he -- whatever he'd said -- surrendered himself to her.*

Angela: *Sex, good sex, was always doubly pleasing to her. Her body wasn't the only thing being relieved and released, stretched and pulled and pushed, Angela could also feel the magic, that innate energy in her body similarly worked. She had little control over it, minimal in fact, and sometimes a tension would build up so deep in her very being that she knew it wasn't simply physiological. It was a stress so overwhelming that relieving it sometimes brought tears of unbridled joy to her eyes. All consuming, she felt every single touch and caress poignantly; the path his hands and fingers trailed across her skin one that felt etched there, scorching like a brand. In those moments there was only her and Cas and the all enveloping pleasure that caused her to moan and gasp and whimper, leaving room only for the occasional pants of vulgarities or pleads to slip through. Words and half phrases like "fuck yes", "so good" and "harder" and any combination of them were breathed out in pants. His name never slipped, it was knowingly given  as a reward of sorts, for how good he was, how fucking delicious the pleasure was to her. It was also the closest thing to an honest thank you she would ever say. Gratitude because she needed it, and he was providing everything and more, driving her more wild with every movement, sating and making her hunger for more all at once.  Sweat made strands of her hair stick to her forehead, glistened off her chest as it rose and fell erratically, fighting to catch her breath but knowing it was impossible. Nails raked down his back as she clung to him, her pleasure built to a peak again and she dove into it. Squeezing around him and squeezing the table hard as she shuddered again, her toes curled inside the heels she had not bothered to take off, her mouth opening in what she thought was a final moan, but as his hand made insistent circles against her, taking her higher than she had ever been before, her moan hitched in her throat and died out as a whimper.*

Caspian: *The addition of magic was not new - playing was an evident special talent of his, for if one thought you could have too much fun having sex, then one simply had the wrong idea of sex -- but he was startled to realize just how goddamn fucking good it felt. Feeling her go over pulled him too: goal achieved, his inhibitions were nonexistent. Pleasure rollicking through every nerve, every tendon, every inch of skin that felt aflame--his world went blinding white as he panted against her chest, burying his nose in the crook of her neck. Goddamn. Well, he had suspected she would be skilled, but...he chuckled, breathless.* Bleeding hell. *His voice was worn with pleasure, as he looked at her through eyes opening lazily, licking his bottom lip.* I knew you would be brilliant ... didn't expect it to be a damn near religious experience. *He was only half teasing.*

Angela: *She chuckled, the sound throaty as it left her mouth for her breath hadn't quite caught up with her still. If it was possible, he looked much more attractive after a good fuck, something that not everyone could say about themselves. Her leg slipping down to the ground again, she was thankful she already had a hand on the table supporting herself, otherwise both of them might have gone down.* It takes two, sugar. *She wiggled two fingers and was only reminded of his own inside her. He was brilliant too, oh so fucking good. A lot of experience then, just like her, and for much longer probably; he was more than a few years older than her.* Feeling closer to God then? *she laughed again, humming at the end of it. She was abuzz with the aftershocks.*