Mallory Bordeaux

“And it feels just like yesterday.” At the start of the eighty years ago, God how he wanted to squeeze the life out of her, had that been possible. She got on his nerves, said all the things that made his jaw clench and he didn’t like her. one. bit. But at the end of it, they’d grown closer, and one might even say he would’ve gladly caught a specific dagger for her. Not that he would’ve mentioned that to her back then. He knew his ego was one of the parts that limited him now, and hers had been pretty close to his. Now? Now she seemed a whole different person. She’d been a pretty public figure back then but having a more open life, one where she didn’t need to hide what she truly was… It suited her, and Gale liked what he saw.

“Do I now?” He laughed, eyes moving down to his feet before moving right back up at hers again, a smile still lit on his lips. He responded normally to her touching his beard, as if the two were tight knit friends where personal space barely mattered. If anything, the personal contact was something he craved for right now. Having lived as a wolf for a few decades had made him live in a kind of solitude he hadn’t experienced when he spent three centuries in Australia. He still had the witches and other supernatural beings there who knew his true origin, who covered for him to the locals, believing him to be a stablehand for all those years. The witches had been strong in their magic, but not strong enough to fool them into being the farm owner for all those years. Being a person in the background made more sense, and he didn’t mind. It helped him heal his broken heart, harden him for the war he, back then, had no idea was to come.

He himself didn’t even know what got him to shift back, what drew him to reintegrate back into the world of humans and supernatural beings looking like them. He gazed into the yellow bubbly liquid as he pondered, shoulders shrugging, a motion he barely ever showed back in New York. Living as a canine hadn’t made him as graceful as an immortal was. It made him more human strangely enough. “I honestly don’t know. It wasn’t like I had a plan for how long it was going to take for me to come back. But something made me look back and decide it was time. Glad I did.. though.” He confessed, index finger touching the condensation on the glass. “But what has Miss Bordeaux been up to in my absence? What brought you back to Paris?”

She smiled at his sentiment. It was amazing how eight decades could feel like a day to someone who’s time was endless. “For us it always does.” It was just as tragic as it was mind boggling. Everyone believe they wanted immortality. Mallory pitied their naivety. Humans didn’t realize just how lucky they were to hold something as precious as mortal life. That time was something to be cherished and not an insignificant variable of an never ending existence. They truly believed they knew what it meant to be sincerely deathless. But they had absolutely no idea and they never would. 

"You do. But I'm sure you're well aware of your apperance, Mr.Davenport. Half the room has been swooning all night," the vampire teased, taking another sip from her glass. She spared the aforementioned room a glance. People were watching them but she knew that before taking her eyes off her counterpart. It was a known fact that Mallory didn't waste much time with small talk these days. Getting to know new people wasn't something she did actively anymore. Not to mention she was in the presence of a man who hadn't been seen in decades. She was sure they made quite the site.

“My sisters have decided to be roommates again,” she chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. Like most siblings, the Bordeauxes could only tolerate being in each other personal spaces for only so long. After a decent stint of cohabitation they split off in their own directions, sometimes not seeing each other for years at a time. It didn’t matter though, they always came back to one another. They’d always come back. “I’m just visiting them. I prefer to stay in Nice these days when I’m in France. It’s calmer in a sense.”

Despite the fact the supernatural world had become an accepted one it didn’t mean that he had felt comfortable showing his true colours to the outside world. It was one thing for people to look at you with a certain hint of fear in their eyes when you mentioned you were a werewolf, let alone an immortal one to explain why you wouldn’t be ageing. Eventually, he had stuck with the old ways, hiding his identity from others. His surname was well known in the supernatural world, and sometimes people connected the dots between him and the ‘werewolf family’. Sometimes he’d simply wished he had been mortal, again. Knowing that that was a wish not so easily granted. It had made his mind wander to the dagger that had killed Noah, wondering if it was still around. 

But when he was in his animal form, there was no worrying, there was no stress. He’d even become a protector of those that wondered off into the forest and lost their ways. There was nothing more frightening than being lost in a forest and seeing a wolf, and especially one as large as he was, but he’d always managed to get them to trust him, and follow him back into civilization. Most of them even pieced together the fact he was no ordinary wolf, which often impressed him, especially if one had set a new record in figuring it out.

And now? Now the original felt uncomfortable in his own skin, not quite sure how he had to function after having spend so much time as an animal. At first it took some getting used to that he had to speak to communicate, and now he missed two decades of news, trends, slang and everything that would make it easier for him to integrate into the world. Right now, he welcomed anything from the past, and so hearing Mallory’s voice was a breath of fresh air. Living a more open and public life suited her, always had. He wondered if BITE was still a thing. “Stranger? Surely it hasn’t been that long.” The man teased, lowering his hands to his sides as he turned towards her. There was no more ill will towards the woman, no more distaste or dislike. No the smile that gently curled his lips was genuine. He was actually glad to see her. “You look well, Mallory. As always, time suits you.” Pretty like a picture – almost quite literally. Just like himself, except the difference now was that he had longer hair than when she last saw him, and a beard. Hardly fundraiser appearance, but it’d have to do. 

“It’s been at least eighty years, Gale,” she replied, amusement coloring her tone. Not that eighty years was anytime at all in the grand scheme of things. A mere blip of time. Most of them had scattered across the world only seeing each other in moments of passing. The last time they’d all been in the same city it had almost been the end of them. It was baffling how different things became when your life was on the line. The truces that were formed and bonds that were created in the pits of war.

“You look like a lumberjack,” the vampire quipped with a light smirk as she noted of his physical changes. Just something else she envied him for. The Davenports had definitely gotten the better end of the immortal stick. Despite the inability to perish they were alive. “It’s a good look on you,” Mallory replied honestly, her hand reaching up to touch his bearded cheek. He looked just as handsome as usual. The time he spoken of suiting him just as well.

After a moment, she dropped her hand realizing she was crossing personal boundaries. The last century had made her...softer. Softer in ways that echoed her mortal self and not the monster dark magic had warped her into. It still there—it always would be—lurking under the surface of her skin. Mallory grabbed two champagne glasses from the passing tray, attempting to deflect from her faux pas. She held one out for him to take before lifting hers to her lips. “So, what did we bipeds do to received you in your less furry form?” 

Paris, 2120.

The world had changed, just like it had for almost a thousand years, and every year added to his lifespan, the more tired Gale became. He’d stopped becoming a public figure, settling down for a more mundane life, even if he knew he was never to be blessed to have one. He’d watched how they grow old. How his adopted son became his brother, his father, then his grandfather only to mourn at his grave. Nature called him after that, doing something he hadn’t done in centuries and as the strongest moon the twenty-first century would ever know had arrived, he gave in, allowing his bones to snap, reshape. The wind rushing passed him as he ran between trees, through forest and landscapes. He crossed the Bering Sea, traveled over continents to arrive in the city with so much history, a place where he’d felt at home in more than a few centuries in his lifetime.

It was strange, to walk as a man again, even if it had only been about two or three decades, and the world had become too modern for his liking and somewhere, behind deep blue hues, a speck of green resembling mother nature still lingered in his being, calling for him. He wasn’t sure what lured him to the city, his family being miles away and in some way, he wasn’t ready to face them. Surely they would feel like he’d abandoned them. But the threat had been gone for years, choosing his curse over family.. Had that been sinful? A crime?

If anything, the world hadn’t changed in its shenanigans and semantics. Fundraisers were still a thing, even if most were corrupt. But he was there, standing in the back of the crowd, a hand pressed against a loosely closed fist in front of him, gazing over the crowd that was so different, and yet so alike to those generations before them. At least the supernatural walked around more freely now, something he was still not sure about was the right thing, but he’d accepted not everything was up to him.

The last hundred years had been...surreal. The outing of the supernatural had sent the world into a frenzy before becoming rather accepting. It hadn’t happened right away of course but she was grateful nonetheless. Not having to hide as much of herself was unexpectedly freeing. The having to fake her own death every thirty odd years stopped. So did the need to dye her hair and create new identities to remain a shadow in the world’s history. It was an odd new normal.

Mallory had finally left New York in the 40s, ready for a different space. Her mortal charges had died of old age—and she couldn’t have been happier— having lived full lives. The Original could be more happy for them. It was what they deserved even if she was stuck on the sideline watching the live it. Staying frozen in time. At several points, Mallory had contemplated using the second dagger in her possession. An easy way out of a perpetually lonely existence but she could never go through with it. Unable to put her family through that pain again. But in moments of selfishness, she imagined what finally letting go would feel like. Instead, she adapted to the changing world around her. 

Despite all that had changed, many had stayed the same. The need to show her face at events on occasion was one of them. They were usually mundane and tedious with a plethora of people kissing her ass to get a check. So, she was pleasantly surprised to sense his presence. It had been quite some time since they’d crossed path. They’d always been a precarious pair yet had seemed to garner a truce after the death of her brother. “Fancy meeting you here, stranger,” she greeted, saddling up next to him.

The most entertaining but biggest struggle for Cyrus was trying to remember to seamlessly fit into the world around them while trying not to smirk at the perfect reality everyone around them took their current situation. It was brilliant. Mad and brilliant to watch. But it did bring him into closer contact with some that he hadn’t been closer to in the real world. He nodded his head using a tablet and charcoal piece to being to draw a few ideas. He nodded, “You’ve always had a fine eye Mistress Bordeaux. A good piece should only draw attention to the wearer never fight to distract from it.” He turned the tablet over so Mallory could see a few of the thoughts, “Did you have a preference for what stones or metals to use?”

“You’re a flatterer, Cyrus,” she chuckled, leaning against the arm of her chaise. She always count on him to provide her with the best of the best. Not that she would accept anything less than that. “You know, I’m absolute sucker for emeralds in a platinum setting. But I’m always open for suggestions. You are the master after all,” the duchess replied, reaching over and brushing her fingers lightly against the sketch. It was as beautiful as always.

“I’d call it sensational.” He winked, casually strolling in between the closed maze. It was amusing to the man, watching the others rush by as if this was a race. He was perfectly content walking in a moderate pace with her on his arm. He seemed to care less for the outside world. “Ah, of course. I should’ve given you more credit in the arts of killing, I do apologise.” Ah, vampires. Such fascinating creatures. They were fast like them, werewolves, perhaps even as strong compared to some ages yet they had their immortality, they had that on them, for sure. Watching the world come and go while they remained frozen in time, it was tiring – he could relate to that. “You’ve got a wish you’d like fulfilling? Your heart’s desire, Mallory?” 

“Of course, you would,” the woman teased, her lips lifting at the corners with a grin. Their banter was something the duchess couldn’t help but cherish. It was comfortable and effortless on the best of days. “You’re forgiven, kind Sir. Most often do forget that I am more than just a pretty face,” she replied, cheekily. The vampire always had an excellent time reminding them.

“Nothing that isn’t frivolous,” she answered truthfully after a pause. There was nothing Mallory wanted that she couldn’t make happen herself. Besides, she’d was always one who preferred delayed gratification. “What about you, Lord Davenport?”

“Would be a rather ironic set of last words should we be proven otherwise.” The man chuckled, allowing himself to be pulled towards the maze’s entrance. He had a pretty good sense for direction, and he knew the laws of them – when lost, always stick to the right wall. Yet to follow that example would be cheating, surely. “Is this where you want me all for yourself so that I may die a gruesome death?” He teased her, joining her at her side as they walked inside of the maze. “If one believes the maze master, they installed a statue in the middle of the maze, and upon touching it it’ll grant you a wish. You ready for the task?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Mallory laughed, slipping her arm into his comfortably. She could easier hear the other participants fumbling through the maze to reach the center, yet was in no actual rush herself. Their pace was one of leisure. “How incompetent do you think I am? There’s far too many witnesses. I’d obviously take you into the woods and put you out of your misery,” she answered, playing along. “A wish? Such a generous prize. You know I’m always up for a challenge.”

Hardly one for pretense, Arya didn’t steady her features from souring like old milk at the sight of the other. A Bordeaux, and her day had just begun to take an upward swing. “You’re right. Though my means have proven plentiful, the problem often lies in rendering.” 

Translated her elegant retort amount to little more than a simple: bite me. But it served it’s purpose.

Every amused by the young woman’s hardly veiled animosity, Mallory simply chuckled. She knew she was an acquired taste. People usually loved her or absolutely despised her. There was rarely any in between. 

“Hmm, always so delightful, Arya,” the vampire smirked.

“I think it suits you better not coming directly from the vein.” Not that his opinion mattered, not when she was in this state. After the other day, when they had their moment, perhaps there had been a small voice telling him that maybe they were destined for more than harsh banter and being enemies for the rest of their life. That perhaps he was ready to let go of his vendetta. But this only seemed to counteract those thoughts. 

“Not of others. Though I have a feeling if he hadn’t taken a knife to the chest, he would’ve been standing here.” She was right, emotional manipulation wasn’t his thing. He never cared, had she been anyone else he would’ve snapped her neck right then and there. It wasn’t that he was stretching time for the girl to survive, he was stretching time for Mallory not to kill her. If she did, she’d truly be gone. “I’m not used to it, no.” The truth. “Let her go, Mallory. You’re class bitch, but you’re not someone to stoop this low. This is not who you are.” 

“You’ve also thought actual death would suit me better for the last thousand years, so forgive me if I take your opinion with a grain of salt, darling,” Mallory snorted, rolling her eyes at him. The vampire knew Gale was right. This wasn’t who she was anymore yet the darkness was seeping out of the cracks and saturating her skin. Again.

”Stoop this low? As in feed naturally and not out of a plastic bag? So judgmental,” the Original tsked, licking her lips again. With a sigh of feign exasperation she let go of the young woman, taking a step closer to the Davenport. Her eyes bright with a sadistic mischief as her prey didn’t move, compelled to stay still. Bleeding out in the dark alley. “There. Happy?”

She’d lost her escorts back in the crowd, tying her skirt together in a knot at her thigh before climbing up and away from where they’d be looking. On the upper level of the market vendors hawked their wares to passers by. The smell of fresh cut flowers and sweet fruits combined with the richer scent of spices and smoke rising up from the smithies below. Quickly untying her skirt, she smoothed out the edges as if nothing had happened. 

She’d been a climber most of her life, from the oaks of her gardens to the ivy crawling up the walls of her home. Scaling up a small wall in a market was nothing to fret over. Arya prowled the square and walking among the people. Overhearing conversations and listening to the stories until she felt a presence behind her. Fearing she’d been caught, Arya turned on her heel with a grin. “Looking for something?”

The spring morning had been positively inspiring and would have been a absolute shame to waste the day inside. The market was full of like minded people, enjoy the smell of fresh cut flowers and spices from lands far away. 

One of her handmaidens was chattered animatedly, when the vampiress halted and took a step back to avoid being hit in the face by the Davenport’s swinging tresses. “Nothing you could possibly provide,” the duchess replied, her tone mild and unimpressed.