They would rue the day,

HAMILTON IS SO GOOD. What fic is this tho. /squishes Anna to self.

.A. feel better soon Katie. Also u flatter me. Whatcha vidding?

(via larei-tow)

aw thank youuu. I got invited back to DHS and am working on a crossover MEP part. nooo I didn’t actually finish a canon part yesterday and sign up for another imean. so yeah. trying to get back in the swing. 

I made a this.

Some mistakes on Jane that I need to fix tho. \oAo/

HAMILTON IS SO GOOD. What fic is this tho. /squishes Anna to self.

.A. feel better soon Katie. Also u flatter me. Whatcha vidding?

(via larei-tow)

Oh god. It’s basically post JSMN events Segundas and Childermass being bad at realizing they are already practically domestic partners. ^^;  One of those ‘ignoring book canon entirely, we shall put the two most attractive men in the television series together’ specials.

And Hamilton is really good!  I think I’ve listened to the cast recordings maybe four or five times now?  Ah ha.  The last four songs get me every time and then I sit there wanting to punch men who have been dead for centuries.  Imagine if you will, Jackie singing I Know Him about fae Court drama.

(via taniel-tow)

I still need to read/see JSMN. o o also that is exactly my type of fic hahaha whoops. > >;

“Well, if he doesn’t exist,” Larei mused, fidgeting with her ring a little more, “who’s the one playin’ games?” Her eyes shifted sharply to the right. She could’ve sworn in the mere moment she took to breathe, soft footsteps scurrying away from her and Eiel could be heard on the breeze. Or perhaps it was her imagination. Either way, this place was making her claustrophobic–paranoid. Add the suspense; the murder, and the intrusion that was a holy man on the premises reminding her of the hot sin in the South, well. It was an opulent powder keg of perfume and finery waiting to explode in a haze of shattered hopes and varying desolations. “It’s an exorbitant amount’uv effort and finances to go to all this trouble…” And who had money like this? The mysterious stranger; Luke whats-his-face? The good doctor? Certainly not the priest. What was to be gained by all of this? What was the play, because the play was the thing?

She shook off an unexpected chill  and rubbed her arms, drawing her silvery stole up over her shoulders in the wake of a passing breeze that breathed down her neck like a wintry ghost more than a friendly reminder of nature’s presence. Nothing felt natural here. Nothing but the need to drink, of course, and a few other primal urges. Fatal curiosity, for example, and a fondness for tall men and gracious women. There was much to distract her here, and that concerned Larei, too.

One could not afford distractions on the battle field. If that’s what this terrain turned out to be, of course.

“Sorry,” she said honestly, lifting her brows at Eiel apologetically for touching him without permission. “Ah find a lotta feelings when I’m tipsy.” She laughed faintly, kneading her forehead and turning away. “In any case–y’wanna earn your weekly pay…?” She twiddled a hand at him, peeking around a corner nonchalantly–then swung back around to eye him, gauging Eiel’s usefulness. More than she’d bargained for thus far–much more.

“I need y’to watch somebody for me, Eiel, darlin’.”

“Someone with a sick sense of humour and a ridiculous amount of money?” Eiel offered, shrugging a shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck. “Or maybe your host is a guest. I’m honestly not sure.” And that was a word he seldom used, ‘honest’. It never sat right on his tongue. He watched her as she watched room; wondered what was going on in her head that made her so uncomfortable, despite being perfectly and happily fizzy on drink. She hadn’t just had the one glass of brandy, he was certain of it; she kept the stuff close to her at all times. It was like a woman’s clutch, but alcoholic. Or something. 

He had the sudden urge to step forward and offer her his coat - but he would be needing that, he would be leaving shortly. He couldn’t stay in this room with her for the rest of the night. He had to go to sleep, ruminate on things, possibly get drunk again to avoid bad dreams and worse memories. He couldn’t afford to get close to this woman who became his employer. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to. 

“It’s fine,” he said dismissively, looking away from her. “I’ve a sensitivity that I need to control better, is all.” A sensitivity and traumatic stress and a million other things and none of that mattered, none of it; he was here to survive and get paid and talk riddles with pretty women, apparently. He honestly originally thought he was here for dinner. 

Standing up straighter, he tilted his head at her; arms folded in front of him. 

Casting another glance back at Eiel, Larei debated with herself and wondered whether or not she shouldn’t ramp up the charm. She hardly needed to. And didn’t want to, more importantly, where Eiel was concerned. He was unfalteringly loyal, and she wondered if it had to do more with the camaraderie they shared (in secret; she felt, both of them being likely liars, and all--or at least folks used to withholding the truth). And maybe more. Again, she couldn’t afford to get sidetracked at the moment. Perhaps later.

“...A sensitivity ain’t anythang to be ashamed of, sugar,” Larei stated firmly, calmly. “Anyway--first order’a business is y’get some good hot food in ya.” Her eyes narrowed, voice softening.

“Keep an eye on Basil for me. The good priest.” Her sarcasm flickered; a snake tongue, around the words. “Only for as long as possible--don’t upset the apple cart.” She tucked a twenty dollar bill into his jacket pocket, otherwise keeping her distance. Respecting the sensitivity. Trying not to write her own manipulative symphony--for despite the way a socialite could charm tunes of truth out of people like fiddles from devils in Georgia, with Eiel and a handful of others, Larei was genuine. 

“And then get some sleep,” Larei murmured, motioning for him to go.

“Ah’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

Larei was as silent as he was, for a moment, this mysterious manservant of hers. More of a boyservant in the right light, save for the oldness in his eyes that insinuated tragic backstory she couldn’t be bothered to delve into. Well, bothered wasn’t the right word. Now was not the opportune time for backstory. Not with a foreground plot unfolding before them, no. She would open him up at a beach somewhere; sometime, when all of this was over, with the sun on their skin and–her lips curled with fiendish delight she stifled behind another sip of brandy. She’d had too much, or not enough. Considering the circumstances, that was one line she refused to draw in the sand. Let the liquor flow like the prohibition (ha!) era was alive and well, and like this was just a jazzy play about murder, rather than the actual thing.

She sighed and tugged on an earring absently, the silver, lacy ornamental catching the light in a quick wink, swinging from side to side in her ear. It was as restless as she was, feeling claustrophobic in a house full of strangers; dangers, and unease.

She really, really didn’t like being outside the circles she ran like circus rings. Maybe that was the socialite; the debutante in her. Or a fear of lack of control. Her mouth hardened.

Either way, she’d see this through. And hope nobody saw through her in the process.

“It would seem,” said Larei slowly, “there wasn’t enough room to go around. That’s the odd part. This place is massive, but the letter claimed the host had miscalculated…next thing you know, somebody’s dead. Not any of the invitees, but for goodness’ sake. It’s almost like a cruel joke.” Her glass was finished. She turned the empty goblet restless in her hands, tracing its edges. Nervous red nails tapped an endless rhythm on the crystal rim.

“Unless that was a cordial invitation t’share your chambers,” Larei caught herself in a wink and a grin, flashing Eiel a confident, flirtatious expression. Be unlikely. Keep him on his toes, too–help him stay alive. And, heck–if this was to be a fiasco, she might as well enjoy herself while she could. Could’ve been the brandy talking, at this point. “Which is mighty gallant’uv ya, Ah must say.” Her chuckle faded at his put-down, and Larei furrowed her brows–then reached up to lightly cup a hand to Eiel’s face.

“Hey,” said the socialite; honest entirely for a change (again; likely the brandy’s fault). “Ah don’t befriend or employ morons.” Her thumb swept over his cheek, then dropped.

“From the moment Ah saw ya Ah knew y’were smarter than y’liked t’let on,” she shrugged good-naturedly, setting her glass down at last to wring her hands instead, looking down. The sword ring caught the light as well; a flashy call to arms. Gather your courage.

“That with the good looks n’broad shoulders, shoot–hired on the spot.” She grinned up at him from under her lashes.

“I don’t like that you haven’t met the host,” Eiel said flatly, frowning as he thought it over. “I don’t like that there’s nothing in the manor that even hints to who he is. At this point, I’m doubtful he even exists.” The idea that this was all a game flashed in his mind; that someone had invited these people, who all probably had secrets of their own, and then started a game of Whodunnit, bothered him. It bothered him more than anything else. More than the absentee host, more than the strange invitees - just the idea that someone was doing this to amuse themselves bothered him. 

But he kept it to himself. He didn’t want to worry Larei about it - and he was a bitter, paranoid man with too much whiskey in his veins, anyway. 

Snorting, Eiel shook his head, smiling a little and watching her with amusement. “No invitations for today, Miss - I wouldn’t risk your reputation.” Even though she was beautiful and unexpected and he was still confused as to why she had even bothered looking his way, nevermind hiring him or talking to him or admitting to the world he existed. 

He held back the urge to jerk away from her when her hands touched his face; pale fingers against darker skin and blue-green eyes watching him seriously, despite the brandy. He held himself very still and watched her and waited for her to say her piece, keeping to himself that this was causing a panic and he suddenly wanted to run away. 

He only relaxed when her hand fell away. 

She shook off an unexpected chill  and rubbed her arms, drawing her silvery stole up over her shoulders in the wake of a passing breeze that breathed down her neck like a wintry ghost more than a friendly reminder of nature’s presence. Nothing felt natural here. Nothing but the need to drink, of course, and a few other primal urges. Fatal curiosity, for example, and a fondness for tall men and gracious women. There was much to distract her here, and that concerned Larei, too. 

One could not afford distractions on the battle field. If that’s what this terrain turned out to be, of course.

“Sorry,” she said honestly, lifting her brows at Eiel apologetically for touching him without permission. “Ah find a lotta feelings when I’m tipsy.” She laughed faintly, kneading her forehead and turning away. “In any case--y’wanna earn your weekly pay...?” She twiddled a hand at him, peeking around a corner nonchalantly--then swung back around to eye him, gauging Eiel’s usefulness. More than she’d bargained for thus far--much more.