do you have the keys to the hotel?

Kay opens his mouth to speak again only to once again close it and this time grimace. He'd been fairly uninvolved in everything going on and he liked it that way, he loved it that way actually. If he'd wanted to do anything expected of him, he wouldn't have left home. Giving up his nobility had meant he was free, he'd pointed out over and over to Araceli that she didn't owe anyone anything, didn't have to put her life on the line time and time again. And he looks across the bar at Casimir and he wants to tell him the same thing. Except he knows Cas, he knows Araceli, he knows that at the center of them, they're far better people than he. "Okay." He downs the whiskey in his own glass and goes about pouring himself another. "Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked are we?"

His mouth opens to speak and for once, he thinks better of it and simply sighs. Not out of annoyance but exasperation at more himself than anything. Hand off of his own drink and both hands instead tapping the bar, he looks to Casimir, really looks at him. The funny thing is that he knows any classification of vampires don't age, or at least in dhampir's cases, very slowly, it's something he admired about all of them. But spending time with them as much as he did, he'd noticed other little things that aged them. The way they spoke, the way they held themselves for instance, but Kay thought it was in the eyes. Casimir had always seemed like his eyes had seen too much, even a decade ago. He can't quite make out what's there now and yet in a way, it's still some kind of comfort. "Cas, I'm trying here." He finally gets out because he doesn't need to sit and ramble, that's the gist of it.

Aegean was now Harmonium trained. Liking how he worked was the default. His struggle was that his best work was meant to go unnoticed. The spectacle of Aegean's personhood was always a distraction from his true intent. This concept played out in real time as his body invited Kay's advance while a weave to take control of the other witch's mind brimmed undetectably beneath his skin.

There is a brief moment of relief, of feeling like she is finally where she is meant to be, but the feeling quickly dissipates as he pulls away and starts examining her. Subconsciously, she tenses, as she begins to realize that they are about to have an incredibly painful conversation. One that needs to be had, if she wants to learn more of who she is, but—. Well, she has the feeling that she would die for this man, this man whose name she can’t recall, and that hurting him would hurt her in return. 

Well that answers nothing and yet conjures nothing but horrors. There were multitudes of completely logical reasons to have someone's memories erased, he could think of a few situations and information he'd given people that he desperately shouldn't have. It was a matter of ethics, and considering the Kossith had seen through that it was done and he knew of their cruelty, what had been erased? On top of that, she didn't remember his name? Kay tries not to let it get to him, she knew him, that was enough, she'd known to get home. Taking a step back over the threshold and further into the house, he takes a second to look at her, to really look at her and he has half a mind to ask if she's indeed fucking with him. "Lucian." And he grimaces like he always does when he says it, if he ever wanted to scrub that name from her mind now would truly be the time to omit it, but the idea of getting rid of any of the history between them felt like a disservice. "But you, and everybody else, calls me Kay."

who: @kayames

It is somewhat petty to show up a solid fifteen minutes late to his appointment at Drystan's office, but he thinks the man is more fun when they start out with a couple of nerves frayed. This time it's a bit different though, instead of leisurely smoking outside just around the corner from the office for a few minutes, he does actually contemplate that he knows about what Drystan does on the side. He knew the accountant had to be more interesting than just someone who crunched numbers. Still, he strides into the office and plops a bag of gold down onto Drystan's desk before he's draping himself across the usual chair leisurely. "Indeed. And dare I say, I'm starting to wonder if you've got a thing for bossing people around." The corners of his lips are quirked upwards, but his tone lacks the usual playful lilt, he's curious. The veil's been lifted and he was going to take advantage of the leverage.

Pausing in plucking another treat for Basarab from the inside pocket of his jacket, Kay's lips purse before drawing into a thin line. On one hand, unless he's traveling a short distance, he sort of avoids getting on boats altogether. There's nothing wrong with a carriage ride, horseback even (though his trust in hooved creatures varied), his own two legs, whatever magical means was readily available. As sexy as pirates were, he didn't think they needed to be in seas, they had no idea what was down there. And yet it was for Araceli. It was for Juneau, it was to see if he could finally skirt the bar from under Belladonna. And it was for Casimir too, for the bit of warmth in his chest that came along with the dhampir asking him for help. "Okay." Kay's eyes leave Basarab to look to Casimir and there's no usual playful lilt to his tone, no sarcasm, no bitterness. "Give me an hour."

She catches a glimpse of an achingly familiar face as the door opens, but before she can even begin to process how she knows this man, she finds herself in his arms. Head tucked under his chin, she can hear his heartbeat, an unsteady little thing racing against her ear. He is warm, he smells like a home she can’t quite remember… And despite not remembering his name, despite the fact that she had been averse to most touches she didn’t initiate since she began remembering herself… Despite it all, she feels like she is home. 

He takes a second to just keep her close after all this time. There were few people he'd abandon his plans for (even if his plans were indeed doing whatever the hell he wanted), and Casimir and Araceli were amongst them. Going out to the wreckage only not to find her had been devastating enough that if Casimir hadn't dragged him back, he might have stayed combing the isles for her. Standing back, hands still at her shoulders, he assess her. She looks alright, though incredibly disoriented and he could chalk it up to fatigue from the journey, but it's her eyes that don't feel right. "Are you on something?" Not like Kay can judge, but his brows do furrow.

Kay had clearly chosen the wrong footwear for a day on the beach. She looked down at the small mound of sand that emptying his boot had produced. It reminded her of an ant hill, but was blown away with the first breeze that blew in from over the water. “I am something of an acquired taste,” Juneau thought aloud, leaning back against her thin shoulders. “Mostly acquired by head injury, or just being very, very jaded.” She glanced up at him, watching him from the corner of her eye. 

"Fortunately, so I am." There's this weird kind of comradery amongst misfits, it's not in the clothes or how eloquent they are, it's in the posture, it's in the eyes. It is something that he has always found deeply recognizable in other people, like his own sharp edges brushing against theirs or the feeling that they're both standing there at arm's length from one another at all times. Afraid to let people too close, afraid to let them see under the surface. Kay thinks it's in how people speak, the self aware sometimes self deprecating humor. He doesn't know the blonde that well, not really, but he feels that familiar tether between them. The way she so casually speaks about the horrors she's endured spoke volumes and he doesn't know if the pang he feels in his chest is sympathy, horror, or relief that she's safe now. But because he is who he is and because he understands deflection, the corners of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. "I know a particularly good one that slowly recedes hairlines each evening until there's nothing left. Not the best one in that situation, but it's probably one of the most satisfying spells I've come across." There's a brief pause and Kay glances to his nails, his cuticles already picked apart on the journey over. "Every time I set a fire, I expected you to turn up. When you didn't, I knew something was wrong."

He intended to avoid Kay, spotting him earlier while beneath a veil of invisibility. He couldn't afford to get hot and bothered tonight of all nights. Then again, Aegean wouldn't give Kay a second thought if he wasn't a witch after his own heart. Breaking into a room he shouldn't have been in to take something that belonged to another? Yeah, Aegean was white-knuckling the edge of the vanity from the tension before Kay got close.

It would behoove her to remember that no one was required to come rescue any of the survivors of the Kossith ship, but Juneau had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from teasing Kay about the sight of him crossing the shoreline. It was clear he hated the setting, his discomfort clear as day. As much as Juneau was loath to admit it, it made the fact that he’d even shown up to help with the effort slightly more touching. And she hated all the sentimentality that came with knowing such a thing. 

starter for @kayames.

A smoke break interrupted by a cat wasn't an interruption at all and the moment the displacer beast bursts from the shadows of the back alley, Kay is kneeling down and fishing a couple of little dried pieces of salmon from inside his coat. "An hour, why?" He looks up from the absolutely gorgeous specimen that was Basarab to the dhampir whose company she kept. For Casimir, he'd pack everything up and do whatever the hell he needed him to do, he owed him that. Even though the other man might not see it that way, Kay didn't think he was ever going to let go of the regret he had for the way things had fallen off between them over the years. "What's happened?" His tone is soft as his fingers stroke the soft shadowy fur behind the displacer beasts ears but his eyes are on one of the few people left he considers close, concern evident on his face.

who? @kayames where? Their Apartment in Aventia when? About a week after the ship went boom

The knock at the door sounds and Kay pauses, his pen dripping ink across the page he'd been scribbling notes down on. The whole place is crawling with wards now, far more than they'd had before Araceli had disappeared. When he'd gone with Casimir to the wreckage, he had not found her, he'd found a handful of people he knew, but Araceli hadn't been among them. He knew she was alive, he refused to believe she wasn't. The one thing they'd always had was a home of their own, regardless of anything that happened to either of them, they always showed back up on their doorstep to the other. So he'd gone home with high anxiety and a heavy heart, practically jumping at every little thing. Sitting there on the second floor, too caffeinated and a little high, Kay reaches out with his magic to the wards at the door and exhales slowly. And then he is moving so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet on the stairs. The door is thrown open and Araceli is promptly pulled to his chest and he thinks he's hyperventilating a little, but he tucks her head under his chin and tries to just focus. "I knew you'd come home."

Drystan didn’t dignify the drink comment with more than an eye-roll and a scoff.. He dropped into the alley behind the building without breaking stride, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as he moved along the shadowed wall. At least Kay had made the jump—graceless, but functional.

Kay looked down at the bundle offered to him and his brows raise and he chooses to keep his sarcastic comment to himself. Drystan of all people had reason to doubt his competence and yet he of all people knew he kept bringing in money somehow. "Expose man doing shitty things, put the dogs down for a nap, got it." He sets the bundle into his inner coat pocket alongside the treats he has there. "Supposedly a while back he bought the lady of the house some ridiculous gems. I plan on replacing them." If Drystan was going to open and honest about the job, then he could let his own agenda be known. "Should be in the vault." The shrug he gives is casual before he's making a little flourish and ducking his head as if to indicate that he'd allow Drystan to lead the way. Look at him, always the gentleman even when other gentlemen had little faith in him.