standing taller

Either way, it works for Lana just fine if everything he's saying is true. She knows the work of hunters, knows they do more than simple experiments that are just a form of torture. And there's one particular incident that's still so clear in her mind, she wishes for nothing but a name. So she smiles, complacent as she moves closer, curls a hand around his arm. "I feel it's more than sufficient... for now." She tugs on his arm, urging him to move with her.

"My thoughts were -- and perhaps this isn't exactly a perfect scenario -- that I would reach out to members of each species, find out what they need, and talk to members I've already recruited. Tomas Priestly, excitable yet intelligent - he's my eyes. Morgan Moss, from what I hear, has had her fair share of dealings with the supernatural. She's my ears." He reaches over to place a hand on Lana's arm, steadying himself.

"And what are those goals?"

He was close, too close. It had the air of whispering secrets in code, and in a way, they were. Because not many would take kindly to the idea of a human council quietly plotting how to scour the world of nightly creatures. And who’s to say a little tip to the fangers wouldn’t set the whole thing ablaze?

"I only want to make sure that humans live alongside the rest of the world that exists around us. Vampires need to feed, but do they need to kill? I plan to ask the Lomidze founder myself. For werewolves, I don't know much of what they need - but I've asked a member of Harford. And I see no reason why witches would take issue, but I haven't had much experience - so I've reached out to a younger member of a coven."

"And what makes you think I am not biased? Considering I started my clan and my sister's the one holding the council seat for us." She asks with amusement dripping from her voice. It's a little silly, really, the idea that she'd lean one way or the other when she'd choose a side so easily. But there's something nagging at the back of her mind, an attack that's gone unanswered yet and a name she doesn't have.

"All species, yes. But not hunters - For one, they're humans with tattoos. I'm the human representative." He offers a shaky smile. "And secondly, their goals do not align with mine. All I've heard is that hunters wish to eradicate, kill, maim, experiment on people who are not like them. I wish, simply, to come to an accord in which humans residents of this city are safe, and supernatural citizens are happy with the terms laid out."

So of course he teased.

"I hope you’re not implying you’ve developed a drinking problem, Jonas," mismatched eyes catching the other man’s grip on the glass like a hawk catching a rabbit. "There are wonderful meetings for that." A harmless tease. There it was — the fish on his hook. All ready to fry on a hot pan. So that was what his boyfriend was hiding from him. The corner of Riven’s mouth curled higher, though the thought left something sour in his chest. Why would Tomas hide something like this? After all the nights he'd spent in his bed, and all the mornings, every smile shared, every touch — he still didn’t trust him?

Was Riven even worthy of his trust? Probably not.

For the briefest moment, his gaze slipped past Jonas’ shoulder, past the room entirely, someplace darker. Then, just as easily, it snapped back. A steady hand rose and settled on the mayor's shoulders deliberate and light, with an air of false affection. "That sounds strangely optimistic of you. How...bold. I still say you should’ve formed a band instead. At least then you’d go out with a song, instead of a scream." A beat. "Tell me, Jonas — is that journalist boy Priestley, part of your little… vigilante group?"

The touch to his shoulder surprises him, because it's sudden, but he maintains himself without jumping or flinching away.

Another soft little laugh, and he shakes his head. "In all seriousness, I'd like to ask if you'd heard about my human council idea?" If not, he'll have to explain, but he doesn't mind barreling forward - so he does.

Tomás might have been secretive enough that Riven never cashed in his boyfriend privileges to the fullest. Never rifled through the dark corners of his subconscious just to pluck out answers. No, that would’ve been far too easy. And easy was boring. Riven preferred things fun, intriguing, complicated. So that when the thread finally unraveled in his hands, he could savor the satisfaction of having worked for it.

Jonas knows that he could not risk such a thing here, not with how much rides on him being able to make a play in the future. But he does relent in his apprehension. "We are friends."

“I admire honesty served so plainly,” she begins, voice low but resolute. “Gold can grease wheels, but it cannot redirect a compass. My resources are tools, not ends. I wield them best when they lift a community rather than raze a battlefield.”

Her gaze settles on the scars again, gentle as dusk light through cathedral glass. “Sight can be stolen, but perspective is ours to choose. I choose coexistence and it sounds like that aligns with your council’s charter.”

It's not a typical leader and subject type of group - he wants everyone to have equal say, so he's not particularly worried about them conversing without him, so long as he knows what's being said at the end of the day.

But the mention of Silas makes him falter completely.

Jonas finds that he is surprised by this offer.

She nods, then realizes that's kind of stupid, and so; "Yeah. Birdie works."

She doesn't have a jacket to shrink into here, or pockets to shove idle woryring hands into, and so she sort of just fidgets a little uncontrollably. "I uh, got our guy." It feels weird. Not just taking credit for it, but sharing it with a third person; she'd been so narrowed in on it that the obvious factor Tommy Skinner had ruined more lives than just hers had been little more an inconvenient backstory. Anika had deserved closure - and in much the same way, so does this guy.

But he nods, faltering smile back in place. "I'm glad for the closure. Yours and mine."

Silas could feel the headache building behind his eyes. A new world had been swirling around him all night, for all of his time in high society he was struggling to keep up with all the information that was offered to him. He felt like a kid at one of his parents parties again, struggling to keep up with adults that simply new the world better than him. The various clan, pack and coven names swirled around his head. Who he should be looking out for, who generally could be trusted. The air of the party was starting to suffocate him. Silas politely excused himself, and moved his way out to one of the balcony looking for some space to process and feel like being human wasn't a derogatory word.

The first balcony Silas found was already occupied however. The familiar silhouette framed between the glow of the lights that fell from the party and the stars that lit the features Silas used to trace in his mind every night. The breath caught in Silas throat before he forced his feet to keep moving. Moving to stand along side Jonas at the railing. Silas felt his mouth dry out at the sight of Jonas in his suit, words struggling to to form the surface.

"I've been to a lot of parties, but this is my first time at anything like this" Silas started, gently touching Jonas' elbow so the mayor would know where he stood. "This is why you've always been the smart one, you hit the bar first before coming out here. Any chance you'd be willing to share with an old friend?"

Here, at this conclave, he almost feels.. normal.

He holds out the glass towards his friend, though. "I'm barely drinking it." The words barely lift above a whisper, because there's always the sense and fear of him destroying what delicate balance they've created between them. Still, though, he almost feels guilty when he realizes that he's trying to preserve this with a married man. It was hard enough finding out that he'd lost his chance. A series of mistakes is what led them to this.

So she looks at him with cool eyes, assessing him for a moment before her lips break into a smile. Stretching in the most inviting way, even if her eyes still speak of the threat she poses. "Mayor Harding, I would not had imagined I'd be meeting you in a gathering such as this." There's an undertone to her voice, teasing of an open secret.

"Though I suppose a figure such as yourself couldn't miss out on this." She takes a sip of her wine, letting her eyes run over the man before straying momentarily in search of a witch. "I am curious though, about what it is you wish to speak to me about, so I'm all ears, Mayor."

Taking a deep breath, Jonas tries to steel himself before speaking. "You seem to know about the council I've been working on, no?" His weight shifts, and he rubs his fingertips against one another.

Having the mayor wrapped around your finger had its perks. It had always been fun; an indulgence, really. The view from the big french window of his mind was gorgeous and fascinating. But lately, the witch had taken a different approach to the man of power (far less, than he thought he had, but Riven wouldn't want to spoil all the fun.)

There he was — Port Liery’s head of the human fraction. So respectable, and well-composed. And yet, so very vulnerable. Just a human. A clever one, sure but not clever enough to approach Priestley and think Riven wouldn’t hear about it.

Granted, the witch hadn’t been told much, just that it was the mayor who’d come to him. Which raised a far more interesting question: Why?

He wore Dani on his arm, like the precious diamond of an assistant she was — another glittering gem in Riven’s collection. If the mayor had a box of those, then the witch had gone and set them into a crown. She peeled away with her usual grace, and in her wake came Riven, bearing gifts: the mayor’s drink of choice, already cradled in sinister hands.

"You look dapper." A smile curled behind the words. "I suppose the mayor had to attend an event like this. I wouldn’t say it’s particularly safe, but then again — you can’t exactly fight duty now, can you?"

Instead, he tries to sift through noise to attempt to understand the expression on his face or what hell he might bring with him.

His fingers loosen and tighten around the glass like a safety net.

"I was given a chance to sit out." Jonas says it plainly, considering he had to find someone to get him inside. Was he given a choice? Would he have been given special privilege if he had asked? He assumes not.

She lifts one shoulder in a modest shrug. “I’m still a newcomer to this world, I know — but fresh perspective has its own value. And I do have resources that might help.” Resources, in her case, meant cold, hard cash and a Rolodex that stretched from bankers to barristers — hardly trivial. She taps her flute lightly, thoughtful. “Money can build neutral meeting spaces, fund discreet intermediaries. But beyond finances, I can lend ideas — practical protections, public-facing outreach so humans aren’t whipped into panic by what they don’t understand.”

She wonders how long the Mayor has been in the know. She tilts her head, curiosity glinting. “Are you new to this world, or did you grow up in it?”

But he does consider the thought of having more resources like that as their disposal. It would help tremendously.

The question surprises him a little. "I'm new, but I've had my suspicions about something since I was very little." At this, he removes his sunglasses - the gruesome scars around his eyes on full display, the half moon shapes of fingernails and uneven healing marks glaringly obvious. "Someone or something took my eyesight as a child. It's only recently that I've learned names for the suspicions."

Lara has people to talk to, but she'd double checked with her before leaving her side. This entire affair is a shit-show, if you ask her; witches, werewolves, vampires, not just from here but from everywhere.

But the person she's looking for, they're none of that. Just a good samaritan.

"A bit, yeah. No longer a private eye. Or not just one, I suppose. Birdie, right, if I'm remembering my voices correctly?" A smile, but it's mostly to be polite. "What is it you need?"

“Thank you for finding me, Mayor Harding. I know your dance card must be wilting under tonight’s heat.” A quick, reassuring glance confirms Cordelia is still nimbly occupied; Andi turns back, smile warm as midsummer sun on orchard leaves. “I’ve heard whispers—pollinated from conversation to conversation—about a Human Council taking root here in Port Leiry. I’d love to understand its soil and its shape, and whether there’s a place I might help it grow.”

He clears his throat, offers a soft smile. "You've heard some interesting things, yes." He gestures for her to follow somewhere a little quieter, so he can hear himself think. When they stop, he tilts his head so it looks like he might be seeing past her, instead of seeing nothing at all. "Our idea, and my pitch, is that I would love for the council to be a negotiating and information body. There is no way to rid ourselves of the reality we live in, so we must walk a thin, parallel line alongside them. I plan to reach out to other members of that community to find a way to do so. Does that sound like a cause you might believe in?"