liliane sol

Baz clamped his mouth shut as he hunched his shoulders in apology. “Sorry!” He immediately apologized, noting the remnants of smoke that had probably come from a recent summoning. “I just thought you’d want food. I don’t know how long you’ve been out here and nobody seems to want to ask you.” He said, and without another thought, he walked up to her with a grin, a plate in hand. 

“Tuna sandwich! You like tuna right?” He hoped she did. He would eat it if she didn’t. 

“What are you doing summoning at this time? It’s lunch time. You should be eating… lunch.” 

Baz was a familiar face to Liliane, but that did not make him a welcome one ; the sentinel seemed to believe that she could be won over by niceties and constant pestering, and this interaction was yet another example. Still, the fact that he belonged to Oleander house meant that she was slightly more inclined to be polite.

She eyed the plate in the other’s hand dubiously. “Did you make this?” If he had, she would have no trouble refusing it, but she was more willing to trust its quality if one their chefs had prepared it.

“Is that so? And I assume that, in your scenario of what I should be doing, lunch would be eaten with plenty of people around?” Liliane scoffed at the very idea. “I prefer to spend my time how I please, and if that involves summoning spirits over what would normally be considered lunchtime, that is my business, not anyone else’s.”

“Oh, woah.” He was impressed and the awe was written all over his face. That sounded like a lot of hard work, but it was exactly what he needed. He ignored her disdain and continued on happily. “Someone confessed to a crime after we told him his Miranda rights. Now he’s claiming it doesn’t count because he didn’t have a lawyer. How would that confession hold up in court?” He liked his job, but sometimes he encountered situations he didn’t always understand. 

Liliane crossed her arms at his question, though she answered it only a moment later. “Whether or not a lawyer was present doesn’t matter unless you have evidence that a crime was committed. Corpus delicti states that if you don’t have evidence  ─  regardless of if it points to the actual criminal or not  ─  then a confession can’t be used in court. So? Do you have any?”

Seeing a bunch of dead shit on Oleander grounds wasn’t that out of the ordinary, let alone the reanimated dead shit. It wasn’t a sight for the faint of heart and if any poor unfortunate null somehow made it past the wards and onto the property; they’d never be able to return to their normal life feeling the same way ever again. However, having spent as much time as she has around HQ, seeing dead bodies just felt like another Tuesday.

Isabel would’ve felt sorry for the bird, if she herself hadn’t been the target of the colorful litany of curses just a few days ago. Liliane might’ve been undeniably powerful, but dragging her ass kicking and screaming all the way to the safe room proved more achievable than the sentinel initially thought it would be.

“Charlie asked me to check on you.” A lie, but a small part of her was curious as to what information she expected to glean after witnessing the little interrogation scene. “You know, make sure you’re still alive and definitely not kidnapped by the looks of it.”

“You’re welcome by the way.” Isabel strided closer, leaning casually against one of the many archaic stone structures that littered the grounds. It was fruitless, as if Liliane would deign to feel anything remotely resembling gratitude, but the sentinel couldn’t quite resist ruffling the heir’s feathers.

Liliane’s glare turned to a look of disgust as she saw who had interrupted her  ─  before the break-in, the sentinel had been just another face in the headquarters ; now, however, Isabel was very well known to her, but any bruises she might have left on the other were not nearly enough to placate her anger from being manhandled like a child.

“I highly doubt that,” she all but spat the words. “If my father wanted to see how I was doing, he would ask me himself, not send a lackey to do so.”

She scoffed at the comment, gaze piercing as the other came nearer and leaned against a nearby stone. “As if I would ever thank you for stopping me from discovering who was intruding on our house  ─  which I would have accomplished, by the way, and been perfectly fine throughout the whole process.”

There was a vague amusement at her answer, something he found more interesting than offensive about just how sharp the Oleander heir could be. Something almost nostalgic, a reminder of how more of the gifted in New York had been. Hard edges and barely veiled ambition, but if nothing else it was familiar. Something he could understand.      

“Not unless my gifts abruptly change their nature. In which case I’ll make sure you’re the first to know,” he said dryly, though it was up to interpretation whether it was with humor or a sharper brand of sarcasm. Either way, he didn’t have any illusions about the limitations of his own power, a thing he was accepting of if not wholly content.

Intent, however, mattered, and at the moment he could only make guesses as to what hers was. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

It was probably for the best that Monty was not easily offended by her words; he was a useful person to know, and although the fear of offending people had never stopped her before, nor would it ever do so, she recognized the value in maintaining some connections. Her father knew many useful people, after all, and his example was one she valued highly.

“If your gift ever changes  ─” perhaps it was petty of her to emphasize that he was born with one compared to her two, but that did not stop her from doing so “─  I think your head of house should be the first to know. Feel free to tell me afterward, though.”

Her eyes rolled at his question, one which was simple enough that she felt no need to answer it with more than the bare minimum required. “I am trying to gain more information, something which I thought would be fairly obvious.”

Of all his insatiable desires, as Dev so aptly put it, it was perhaps his constant desire to be liked that was at the root of so much of Emil’s success and also so many of his greatest failures. Liliane was one such failure. By all accounts she should like him, or at least respect him. She had all her father’s ambitious cunning and sharp wit, the same traits Charlie bonded over Emil with, and yet she seemed to barely tolerate him, let alone like him. The entire thing drove him up the wall, but relationships took time and patience, and if anyone was deserving of the investment, it was the Heir of Oleander that would actually become the Head of House one day. 

So it was with this patience and carefully crafted humility that the Affiliate waited outside the room, hearing the tail end of a masterfully crafted tirade with only a slight raise of his brow to hint at any of his personal amusement. When she seemed to hit a pause, he offered a gentle rap to the door frame, peering in with a polite smile which was returned with an accusatory question. “If I am, then I’ll leave you to it,” he replied, conciliatory as always in her presence. “I was just following up on some information from your Sentinels.” 

Liliane’s fingers tapped a light rhythm on her arm as she considered whether or not to allow the man outside her door to come through it ; Emiliano was useful, that much her father had certainly explained, but usefulness did not change the fact that he was a null. His one redeeming quality in her eyes was that he had chosen her house to be affiliated with. 

Still, any distaste she felt for certain roles could be waived in unusual situations  ─  and all of the things which had been happening to House Oleander certainly qualified. It was this understanding and the fact that he had already spoken to at least one Sentinel that prompted her to nod in agreement, albeit unenthusiastically. “If it pertains to the break-in or the solstice, you may enter ; if not, I would prefer you left as soon as possible.”

That calm, cool smile stays on his face as he looks across the table at Liliane. Her subtle change in demeanor, the words she gives back to him at the slightest inclination that he’s perhaps ready to start involving her in more significant decisions and ventures within their house an eager push on her part. 

“Good,” he tells her, still watching her face. “That should make this conversation a much easier one.” It’s the words of the Head of House, rather than her father. Business and political and while he didn’t often like taking those roles with his children, the break in at their headquarters had made it apparent he needed to start. He had no intention of stepping down as Head of House any time soon, of placing that burden on the shoulders of his children. But intention seldom worked in people’s favors in such matters. 

He takes the menu, reverting back to a more casual stance as he looks it over. “I’ve always been rather fond of their Rubens.” He lifts his head to signal for the waitress.

Her father’s Head of House mode is something she associates with announcements and formal events, not a semi-casual lunch with just the two of them ; her interest is piqued, to say the absolute least.

Her mouth opens to ask exactly what  ‘ this conversation ’  will be about, but it snaps shut as the waitress approaches their table  ─  the very idea that she would talk about subjects which pertained to their house around non-members completely abhorrent to her. So she orders a salad and water uninterestedly, fingers drumming on the table the entire time, then sits forward in her seat the moment the woman leaves.

“Would I be correct to assume that this is a conversation you don’t want to be overheard by other members of our house? Surely that is the only reason you would choose these,” she pauses and glances around in distaste, “surroundings.”

𝖆 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓

𝖆 𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓

“Well, I think we’ll both have to, this is our home now” Elisa tried to keep up with her cheerful tone, and maybe she could have fooled someone else, but this was her sister, and it was obvious she noted the nostalgia in her voice.

Maybe it was just the fact that they were sisters, but Liliane had always brought up a more playful and teasing side of Elisa, the younger liked to do things just to mess with her sister, as a game, never in a way she knew Lili would actually get upset. Elisa kicked her shoes off and sat on the bed with her legs crossed.

“I’m halfway through, but all the ghosts are still at the headquarters and my room is too quiet.” She gave her best puppy dog eyes, while it was true that she felt just a little lonely in her spirit free room, she also just wanted an excuse to come to Lili.

Liliane scoffed at her sister’s words. “It certainly is not ─ our home is the Oleander Headquarters, and this is nothing more than a temporary measure until we find out who attempted to attack us.” Anything else was unacceptable. 

To say that Liliane was not a playful person was a vast understatement, as was the assumption that she would put up with anyone but her sister acting like this. Then again, that was true of most things when it came to her family ; they were, within reason, the exception to nearly all of her usual behavior.

“Because I’m the most talkative person you know.” She slid the final book into its place on the shelf, then made her way to the armchair next to the window and sat in it, facing Elisa. “There’s no saying the ghosts will follow us here ; shouldn’t you find another solution for adding noise to your room sooner than later?”

Amusement colored his features, Liliane and Elisa some of the only people he didn’t keep his normally stoic face around. Emotions were a dangerous thing and the list of people he let in on them was small. Not even his heirs, his children, were privy to all of them. By design. His design. Still, it amuses him to no end when she scolds him for the nickname, something he’d come to expect by now, but he was also aware she knew better. “You’ll always be my Lil.” 

And with that, the informality is gone, the topic of conversation and tone taking on a more serious note, a more formal approach. He slips back into Head of House mode just as easily, waving away her thanks for making time for her and reaching for the cup of tea he’d already ordered while waiting for her. “If I didn’t make time for the heir of the house, our order would be in shambles,” he says it nonchalantly, but written between the lines are the expectations that as heir, there was a manner in which she was supposed to take part in all of this. A communication of leadership, because one day, this house may very well be hers. 

“That, and I like to make time for my daughter.” He gives her another smile, holding out the menu for her. 

Although most of her despises the idea of nicknames in general, there is a small part that appreciates the uniqueness that it signifies between her family and herself ; it is this part that stops her from more than a huff of mild irritation when her father uses hers yet again.

At his dismissal of her thanks, however, her back automatically straightens ; his word choices do not go unnoticed  ─  the heir of the house, our order  ─  nor does the implication that she will be involved going forward, and a gleam some might call predatory glints in her eyes. “But of course. The heir is a crucial part of any House, after all, a responsibility I am both aware of and prepared for.”

Liliane nods in acknowledgment of his smile. “I appreciate it, Father.” She accepts the menu, but only opens it long enough to barely glance at the contents before snapping it shut. “I’ll order whatever the least greasy option available is. Have you already decided?”

𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖞 𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖗．

protect﹔ “Both Marchesa and Athena are the heads of their houses, and if they need my protection then something has gone severely awry, though I suppose I would do so if it was truly necessary.”

attack﹔ “If either one of the other heads makes a move against my house, I would have no qualms about advancing against them”

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑．

hang out with﹔ “My father, though it would much more likely involve me learning things about our house than actual relaxing.”

party with﹔ “Do I have to party with any of them? I’d rather not.”

𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖙𝖍.