masquerade

“I’m an alcoholic,”

As always, Azra managed to catch him off guard. If she kept doing that, he could create a line graph with how many times she puzzled him ; perhaps that was half the reason he felt drawn. Or perhaps she inherently possessed something that he was trying so hard to understand — emotions. She seemed to have enough for both of them combined, always battling inside of her, causing her to react on her impulses. 

All he could do was wait and listen, giving her enough time to filter through her thoughts. It was revealed that she, too, had seen whatever Annaliese encountered in the library. He could deduce that much, especially from her mannerisms. Daniel slowly stepped forward, taking a seat besides her ( half tempted to grab the whiskey bottle ). However, he shook his head instead, insisting, “Azra, you didn’t interrupt anything. I was just — brainstorming.” Trying to connect the dots, piece together a sense of clarity amongst all the chaos. 

“I heard of what you saw, I heard what happened in the library,” he admitted, glancing at her. And there it was again, his mind scurrying to figure out how to fix this — to bring comfort to a situation when he had clearly had no expertise on that particular subject matter. Daniel wasn’t blind, he knew she gravitated towards human touch ; knew it with her constant brushes and unexpected lip lock. So he reached for her hand instead, his fingers wrapping around hers ( almost drawing her grip away from that bottle ). 

“There’s a solution to all of this, there’s an answer somewhere.” logically, there has to be. 

Anything he did was better than the wallowing Azra couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing. It was a spiral that gripped her, one that forced her underwater no matter how hard she fought against it. They weren’t safe in their home. It didn’t matter if they promised more magic or magic that could help them find Feiyan. Convinced whatever they offered was poison but lacking another alternative, it left her with with just loss and fear and panic, and none of that served the council. Confused and perhaps equally lost, Daniel channeled that energy into something productive where Azra’s mind immediately turned to self destruction.

In such a short amount of time, Daniel learned a sort of gentleness with her, demonstrated by the way he took a seat next to her on his bed and wrapped his hand around hers, the one that gripped the bottle as though it were the only thing that kept her grounded. Her hold on it loosened; she’d let go if he took it. To her relief, he already seemed to know what happened. There would be no need to recount it again, not like in the foyer with Rose. Her shoulders dropped and her back curved slightly as though she bowed under the weight of everything happening. Kneel or perish. Even as he tried to assure her they could summit this, that they’d find the answer, tears blurred her vision and she shook her head.

“I think we’re going to die,” she said softly. Her head tipped to rest on his shoulder and she squeezed her eyes closed as hopelessness set in again. “She said kneel or perish and I’m-- I won’t-- Feiyan’s not here, this isn’t right, I won’t be the one who gets us all killed again--” A broken, quiet sob pushed past her lips as she began to dissolve. Short of a miracle, she didn’t see any way out of the ultimatum given, not with more magic or what they had now or any amount of research they’d been over dozens of times. Without Feiyan, they were simply outmatched.

“You haven’t,” he clarified, again. Despite his confusion, it felt as if Azra was trying to decipher the situation at the same time ; trying to understand it. He always assumed she knew the truth, knew what she wanted but … perhaps that wasn’t necessarily the case. Perhaps they were both equally unsure, searching for the proper answers. 

Kian had advised him on the situation, on why she might’ve kissed him … and now she was asking for his honest opinion, asking whether or not he would do it again. He paused, analyzing her. Daniel meant it when he said he didn’t mind, he didn’t mind because he liked her more closely ( although he couldn’t pinpoint what that meant, exactly ). 

“I wouldn’t mind it again because I like your company.” 

“That and Kian said you wouldn’t kiss me if you didn’t like me,” he added, his lips twitching. 

Whatever it was between them moved in a different direction than Azra initially anticipated. He was as lost in this as she was though perhaps for different reasons, which was oddly comforting considering she always assumed Daniel knew everything--she’d yet to see him in a situation that left him confused or directionless. When he admitted he enjoyed her company, a smile bloomed on her lips and she stood close to him, close enough to tentatively brush her fingertips on his forearm as she spoke.

“Kian’s not wrong,” she said with a quick, quiet laugh. “Though if you like spending time with me and you like spending time with Kian, does that mean you’d kiss him too?” she teased as the grin brightened. Despite the joke, this was relatively new territory for her, given her sole serious relationship was a decade ago and was by no means a healthy one. Not that they were jumping into anything right now, especially not with Feiyan missing and a potential old evil lurking in their home, but the idea of it still sounded... nice. Safe.

“I, um... you should know, I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “Like I’ve done the whole... tinder thing... but that’s just casual dates or sex or... I mean, it’s nothing serious...” Azra shook her head as a blush crept onto her cheeks. Nothing quite came out the way she wanted it to. “What I mean is... I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, repeating herself, “It’s okay if you don’t either.”

She didn’t know what she was expecting, didn’t know what she wanted. There was temper, there was a fondness for Azra, there was something that felt and looked a lot like grief that was gradually creeping in the longer she stopped yelling and Rose wasn’t sure if that was for herself and everything she felt like she was losing or for Nashville and all the damage she’d done simply by being there.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t f a i r.

But no one cared about fair, no one said life was supposed to be—or would be—fair and Rose had to stop all but s c r e a m i n g about it right now, if only because what Azra began to say was important.

There was a reason she shouldn’t have come back and she listened to the painful and fractured explanation with as much patience as she could manage. For a few moments afterward, she didn’t know what to say. “Well this all kinds of bullshit,” Rose muttered first, before she she continued—though no longer talking so directly to Azra—“I got dragged back here to either kneel to some lady or die?” This wasn’t what she was expecting to hear and mostly she wanted to talk to someone who give her more clarity. Her weird twin came to mind; she wasn’t particularly interested in hearing what she had to say, but maybe she’d help her understand. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t have a choice but to be back and see this all the way through. Instead, she just abandoned the idea of saying anything comforting, because she couldn’t fix this and said, “I get why you wanna drinking, but promise me you’re not gonna do something stupid.”

Azra let her friend rage and only half listened--Rose probably didn’t particularly need an audience or target for it anyway--as her mind reeled. God, if she could just stop crying for one second, perhaps she’d be able to talk herself out of the impulse to drink herself to death. There was nothing comforting or useful about her thinking, and it was perhaps a little cruel to make one of her best friends party to her own destruction, but the urge to summon another bottle still itched in her fingertips anyway. She pressed her hands into her ribcage as she wrapped her arms around her torso in an effort to keep herself from doing it out of some twisted impulse to hurt herself or hurt less or whatever it was she wanted and couldn’t quite decipher. 

Promise me you’re not gonna do something stupid. Azra briefly eyed her with a look that said she couldn’t keep that promise, but it vanished as an old, well-practiced mask took its place. Despite the hiccups and tears, her expression flattened and she looked away, anywhere but Rose, anywhere that could hide the lie when she nodded. It was a shaky veneer, one that wouldn’t hold longer than a few minutes before she dissolved again.

“I don’t want to be here,” she said softly. Her voice betrayed her, the way it cracked when as she tried to keep it even in addition to the hiccup that split it in two. It was a stupid thing to say, especially considering to whom she spoke. “If they just want us dead, they should get it over with because I’m not doing what they want.” Another pair of tears slid down her cheeks and she pushed them away. She didn’t want to die, every part of her screamed that, but it seemed like an inevitability at this point. Now the goal was just to ease the pain.

This was one hundred percent for him, this whole interaction. Which sounded shitty in his head. He was supposed to be there for them, that was his one damn job at this place. This was surely mutually beneficial though? He could hold off on feeling guilty about using everyone for his own peace of mind for a couple of days at least. With a slight nod, he filled both mugs before going to the fridge to rifle around for whatever creamer he could find. “I feel like we’re all about to do a lot of sitting.” It was a mumbled statement as he pulled a bottle out of the fridge. 

“You doin’ alright?” Stupid question, he was allowing himself a couple of them if this wasn’t a session. Reese shot a look over his shoulder at her, a small smile of apology adorning his lips as he poured a dash of creamer into both cups. None of them were okay period and after that stunt, he was surprised they all hadn’t pulled a Rose and headed back home. Hell, he’d looked at tickets to Sweden. Take that Eldritch bastard, I’m not doing shit for you. It was only after the creamer was back in the fridge and he’d let out a sigh did he set the other cup in front of Azra and sat down across from her. “Of course not. None of us are fine.”

Reese produced a second cup and set about filling both in measured, even movements to her eye; nothing betrayed any sort of anxiety. So many of the other councilors appeared to have whatever they felt under control and Azra, usually so good at masking anything negative, felt as though she bled her insecurities without end. Every time she cried or snapped at someone, she wanted to scream at herself to shut up and deal with it herself--everyone had their own problems and they certainly didn’t need to add hers to their pile. 

It made sense, then, that Reese answered for her even though she didn’t even make a move to do so herself. Instead she offered him a gentle frown and a sympathetic look as he placed the mug before her and took a seat. “I don’t really feel safe here anymore,” she admitted softly as she slowly turned the cup in circles. A handful of councilors didn’t know any other happy home aside from this one, or at least they didn’t have one they could return to when things at the lair became too much.

Though, considering Rose’s recent experience in Nashville, presumably none of them could leave at all without serious repercussions.

“Were you in the council chambers? I didn’t see you in the library, but... I mean, it’s not like I was paying a lot of attention.” Dark eyes dipped to focus on the still untouched coffee in front of her. “I don’t know what to do.”

By Rose’s view it was a blessing—cruel as thinking that was, both for the pain of the religious subtext for Rose and for the cruelty aimed at Azra—that the temper was good something. After all, she wasn’t exactly getting the answers she wanted or the instant gratification of understanding why she’d been indirectly forced back here or whose fault this was.

She was hurting people, and she didn’t like that; at the very least she needed to know who was responsible so it could stop, right? Only, maybe she should focus on not trying to hurt the people here first, 

“No choice,” she offered shortly as reply to Azra’s question, but Azra simply kept going on the same theme and she found herself doing the same. “No shit,” she muttered darkly, obviously not in the mood to hear things she already knew, “I didn’t wanna come back. I’m not here voluntarily. Weird magic got even weirder.” 

She seethed in that for a few moments before she noticed that Azra was about five seconds from crying, and noticed what she’d missed because she’d been too busy being angry: Azra was scared. A hand carded through her hair then, as she tried to soften because she didn’t want to be the reason Azra cried anymore than she wanted to be the one who allowed Azra to go completely off the rails. A long sigh followed before she finally said, “Az, why do you look scared? Is it ‘cause I was yelling? I’ll stop.”

Two mouthfuls of whiskey on an empty stomach didn’t take long to affect her, especially not given her considerably lower alcohol tolerance than when she was younger. She felt detached from her fingers and the almost-floating sensation began to form in her legs. Rose didn’t help either, but Azra could hardly blame her for her sour mood or the flash-temper that threatened to sear anyone in her way. Currently that was Azra, though she figured she deserved it considering the circumstance.

Apparently the woman in the library was right, though. Rose would return, and she’d done something so terrible it forced her to a place she hated. Weird magic got even weirder described the happenings at the lair as well, but she couldn’t explain it to her, not when Rose was angry and even thinking of the way the woman’s frail, corpse-like appearance as she leveled threats upon the small group gathered in the library made her want to panic or vomit or run or all of those.

He had returned to his room with the intent to review his notes again ; notes pertaining to Feiyan, the council, everything. Hoping to find something relevant, something he might’ve missed ― his fingers flipping through countless pages, his eyes skimming over his handwriting. In all his concentration, the data scientist almost didn’t hear his name being called ( almost didn’t hear his door opening ). 

“Daniel?”

He turned, immediately recognizing her voice. To his surprise, she looked … upset. While he had thrown himself into logic to process these recent events, Azra seemed to be lost in the emotions of it all The ancients, their appearances, their promises. It was overwhelming, forcing them to retreat towards whatever brought forth comfort ; whether that be notes or liquor. 

“Azra,” Daniel greeted, noting the way she gripped the bottle of whiskey. “How much have you drank? You should probably sit down.” 

“I’m an alcoholic,” she blurted, which in itself was something of an answer to his question. Too much, any alcohol is too much. Nothing about the bottle of whiskey held tightly in her hand was a comfort--it was a means to an end, a way to shut off her brain at least for a little while, even if it meant facing a hangover and an agonizing sort of self-loathing the next morning. This was also not the way she wanted to tell him about this, or even broach the subject, but there it was, spoken in sharp, blunt tones.

Bottle still held firmly enough to turn her knuckles white, Azra gingerly sat on the edge of Daniel’s bed, then set the whiskey in her lap but still couldn’t seem to release it. “I saw something today,” she said gravely, voice soft and eyes glossy and wide. This didn’t compare to the mirror of herself she met in the garden, the one with sweet promises of power and everything she’d ever wanted, and then a wicked temper when Azra refused her. It. Inhuman. The terrifying woman in the library didn’t strike her as human either.

It didn’t take long for her to notice the pages of notes and research strewn across his desk. Guilt bloomed in her chest and her gaze dropped to the amber liquor in the bottle she held so tightly, a golden, shining embodiment of her failure. Where his reaction to this was an attempt to learn, to fix, hers was to spiral and hate herself for it. When the time to came to fight or be the scared little girl, she chose the latter. “...If you don’t have time, I can-- I can go, I can... um...” she trailed off and shook her head. “I shouldn’t interrupt you.”

He watched her idly expend magic and let his mind run away without him for a moment. She curled in on herself in the same moments she reached out to others for help. Desperate to ask the question on her tongue, but afraid of how it would land, even when it was harmless.

He stood, arching his back in a luxurious stretch, and then slowly stepped up over her legs to curl up in the center of her lap. He wouldn’t have considered it with any other Councilor. Clearly this one needed the reassurance if she was going to string a full sentence together though, and he was not adept at that with words. That was Fei’s domain, and she was not around to lend her warmth.

“I’ve no experience with using magic,” he began, “but I guess it’s like anything else you learned how to do young. When you hold a pencil to write a word, does the pencil have to know what word it is? Or will it just write whatever your brain asks?”

“Feiyan keeps journals, though she has so many and keeps them all hidden. I couldn’t tell you where most of them are.” His tail twitches to express his ire at not knowing where Fei’s things were - or where to find her to ask. “I think I recall something about the Ancients leaving you all with the skill you were best at. Keanu has his fire. Eve has the plants. You have some mimic muscle memory that lets you borrow their skill for a short while, I imagine.” He rubs his head against her shin as a thought comes to him. “Maybe it feels strange to think of using other magic besides what you’ve always had because that knowledge, how exactly you use it, has been obscured. I wonder if there was a time when you had to think about using any magic, even if you were really adept with it.”

Azra held her breath as the cat made himself comfortable on her lap, and after he settled, she tentatively scratched that same spot on his shoulders for a moment before she quieted her hands even though all she wanted was to continue. Kian could call him a demon all he wanted; he may as well have been perfect in her eyes.

Azra didn’t learn to use her magic young, at least not compared to the other councilors who figured out their abilities perhaps in early childhood. She didn’t even know hers existed until she was thirteen, though the learning itself did still come relatively easily. Part of her knew what to do, even if rational thinking told her magic doesn’t exist. The universe endeavored to prove her wrong. “So… in theory, we all just… like, forgot? The thing in the garden talked about tapping into the leyline below the lair, but if we already do that, then it’s just… remembering more than what we do now?” Balfour still curled in her lap, she put her hands flat on the floor behind herself and leaned back a little, gaze lifted towards the ceiling but without focus on anything in particular. The thing in the garden wasn’t wrong, then, but that still begged the question of whether or not they would be struck down for the attempt.

Azra was honest, so honest that the possible reasons behind why she had been avoiding him narrowed down drastically. Daniel couldn’t help but analyze her, wondering what to make of the situation. She seemed nervous, her pacing only adding onto the suggestion that perhaps he wasn’t the only one confused about this predicament ; he never really thought to consider how she might’ve been puzzled as well. In regards to relationships, Azra always seemed light years ahead with emotional intelligence. He could barely keep up half the time. 

“It’s okay, I didn’t really mind it,” Daniel admitted. “You just ― caught me off guard.” 

He finally left his spot, wanting to capture her attention for a moment. Her constant movement made it harder to connect, harder to resolve the issue. He took a page out of her book this time, reaching forward to gently grab a hold of her arm ; a quiet call for attention. 

“Azra, you haven’t ruined anything.” 

Nothing Daniel said suggested he hated that interaction, merely that he didn’t understand why it happened or more accurately, why she ran. That answer was a complicated one, particularly when it came to explaining it to someone who dealt in logic and rules, and as Azra understood, emotional distress didn’t abide by any sort of rigid laws. In any case, the pacing continued until he touched her arm and held it firmly enough to halt her in her steps. So used to being the one to initiate any sort of touch, she stopped in her tracks and stared at him, unsure what to make of it. That lasted for only a moment, though, and had she been in a lighter mood, she might have smiled. He learned she needed to be touched sometimes and acted on it.

“I haven’t? ...I haven’t,” she said, her mind clearly working through this carefully. She knew her only real relationship wasn’t a good example of how they work, but lacking any sort of positive alternative, she didn’t know how to proceed, not without potentially hurting Dan or breaking this despite his assurances that she’d done nothing of the sort.

“So... um... you didn’t mind. Like, you didn’t mind as in it was okay that once but please not again, or... or I wouldn’t mind doing that again. ...Sooner rather than later?” she asked gently. 

Fingernails scraped delightfully on his spine, a sensation so surprising he didn’t know whether to arch into it or away, and so instead sat perfectly still throughout. The girl seemed to realize that was crossing a line, though, it hadn’t been too terrible… Not that she could know. Or that it mattered, under the circumstances.

Talking of past Councilors made Balfour wish he could grind his teeth - he had seen humans do it, the gesture a perfect encapsulation of how he felt most of the time. Especially about them. They who always disappointed Feiyan, who never lived up to her hopes and inevitably left her alone. He almost enjoyed that this time her disappearance did much the same for them, except they had no memory of their past failures, and Feiyan would never, and this group… wasn’t half bad. Not that they could know. Ever.

“Occasionally the lines will be disrupted by anything from natural disasters to unknowing humans interfering in the landscape.” His tail swished against her leg, slower this time, lingering near her warmth before sweeping out and back again. “Sometimes they would deal with that. That’s the only instance I can think of where other magic could have leeched into the world around them. And the lines are your magic, they carry it and you all tap into it to use your powers, so it isn’t the same… I have no idea what’s lurking around all of you.” Of us, but he didn’t say it.

“I don’t know how useful my knowledge is here,” he added, looking up at Azra. “I only know what came after I was made. Just before Feiyan began her search. Maybe older accounts have more to look to.”

Surprisingly, Balfour didn’t reprimand her for the overstep, but that didn’t mean she wanted to press her luck. So far, the cat seemed to not outright hate her, and whether that was actual fondness or simple civility didn’t matter; Azra was happy to remain on whatever good side he possessed. 

Talk of using leylines to tap into her power caused a crease in her brow and her hands fidgeted in her lap as she tried to sort through the idea. How could she do something without knowing she did it? With the Chariot’s power at her fingertips, she idly curled the corner of a nearby area rug, her fingertips curling and uncurling in time with the movement of the carpet. Nothing about it felt like she was drawing from something; it was as natural as breathing.

DATE & TIME: July 18th, 10.00am LOCATION: The library STATUS: Closed for @suvaris

Needless to say, Annaliese had not been thrilled at all about recent events. It had been bad enough with people receiving ominous visits from doppelgangers, but now that unexplainable destructive incidents were happening it only served to heighten the tense atmosphere that had lingered. To be honest, the start of it could be traced back to when Fei disappeared, but right now her main focus was to minimize whatever damage there was to the irreplacable books.

The ones most affected had been laid out over every available flat surface that was far out of the reach of the layer of water stagnating on the floor. A sigh escaped her lips as she surveyed the space, as thoughts on how to avoid such a situation occurring again began to run through her mind.

Ripples alerted her to the presence of someone else, and she spun to see Azra making her way over, and though she wasn’t quite willing to deal with someone else at the moment, a polite smile still found it’s way to her lips. Rather reluctantly, putting people over her books.

“ Oh, hello Azra. Can I help you with anything? ”

Surprisingly, putting the rec room back in order--or as much as could be, anyway--did a lot for Azra’s nerves. The sense of accomplishment made her feel less useless, even if leaning so heavily on the Chariot’s telekinetic magic to clean left her feeling a bit drained. Pushed by the desire to chase that feeling, she found Bree to borrow her magic before she headed to the library. No doubt Annaliese needed help cleaning up there too, and what better way than with a bit of water manipulation?

“Hi,” she greeted as she carefully picked her way through the library, wincing at every step as water squelched under her foot. Normally, Azra made her way to the library either to spend time with Daniel--reading, talking, researching, whatever--or to perhaps partake in a bit of quiet time and tea with Annaliese herself. Today she simply wanted to return the favor. “I-- um-- actually I wanted to maybe help you?” she said as her head canted to the side. “For however long you’ll have me,” she added. Though she’d settled considerably since Lani’s vision, her nerves were still fried, and she couldn’t guess how long the other would tolerate feeling that radiating from her in waves.

Nadine was far too aware of everything for Azra’s out of character sharpness to slip through —– and she wished she would have seen none of it. “Clearly.” Nadine’s patience was running thin and even someone like Azra wasn’t going to get spared from it. Somehow, every time she tried to say or do anything with no other intent but to help Azra, she always fell short. Time and time again, the world proved to Nadine that she wasn’t made of a material soft enough to actually be of help to anyone; she was made of sharp edges and blunt surfaces and she was okay with that —– she had to be, otherwise the other option was to hate herself and there was no time for that. 

Her lips parted as she caught sight of Azra’s eyes and although she was uncomfortable with any show of emotion —– anger she was okay with, sadness and tears she could go without —– Nadine’s stance didn’t change; she stood tall, albeit a bit tenser, but she didn’t move. “If nothing we did matter, then things wouldn’t keep coming at us, Azra.” It was a strategy that Nadine knew too well; if there’s no reaction important enough to create a ripple, then there’s no point in doing anything else. If whoever was doing this to them was doing it just to mess with them, no endgame in mind other than the hurt and divide it created, then they would have stopped long ago. Or we can die. Her eyes slightly widened at Azra’s words; was she being dramatic or had she heard something far more different than Nadine had? “Die? Azra, who said we’d die?” Nadine knew that at that moment there was no point in trying to get anything out of Azra.

Nadine also knew that it would be easier for her to let Azra go, get drunk to the point of passing out and not having to deal with any of it —– and by the looks of it, that’s what Azra wanted to. The Chariot wouldn’t be caught letting her walls down and whatever want she had before, had completely been erased from her ( at least at that particular moment ), knowing that there was no point in trying to help when she was simply not built for it. “Tell me what happened. Then you can go get drunk and only wake up in two days, I don’t care,” Nadine began; she did care but she couldn’t welcome vulnerability, not right now, “but if you don’t talk to me, I’m going to keep you where you stand.” And it wouldn’t even be a challenge.

A gulf of difference lay between Azra and Nadine in terms of how they handled severe stress. Where Azra crumbled, the other turned to rigid steel, perfect and collected and everything she herself was not. And then she got to the words I don’t care and Azra felt her world spin. It did occur to her that she was deeply annoying; nobody liked spending time with someone so fraught with insecurities and fear, especially now when everyone had their own tailored horrors to deal with. Hurt and embarrassment bloomed low in her chest and she palmed away a tear as it fell.

“It doesn’t matter,” she repeated. A hiccup cut her words and she tried to swallow it, to do anything to keep herself from completely dissolving in front of Nadine. She sucked in a deep, noisy breath in an attempt to steady herself, but it only served to highlight just how tenuously she controlled herself at that moment. “You’re fine. Some of us are not. Some... woman... said we can submit to her, keep our, um, magic. With her... control? Uh, guidance?” Another tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t bother brushing it away this time. “Refuse and... uh, perish. Die.”

There was something that ripped at her heart in seeing Azra more broken than she’d last seen her, that her temper made her yell when Azra was the one person she always, always wanted to treat carefully because she hadn’t exactly meant for it to happen but Azra was as close to a little sister as she was ever going to have.

“Oh, Az,” she murmured softly, wondering what she could say when temper was making it hard to curb her tongue and she was so angry that she couldn’t find silence, but whatever dimming effect Azra’s mere presence and initial response might have had, it dissipated when Azra touched her, when Azra summoned alcohol.

“Give me that,” she snapped, before she summoned the bottle from Azra’s hand without missing a beat. Two could play this game and she knew it better than Azra did; before giving Azra a chance to summon the bottle back, she turned around, opened the front door and threw the bottle toward the ground and watched it shatter in the grass. Lingering in the doorway, she turned back to Azra, eyes glittering with temper applied to a new source; she was livid, sure, but she wasn’t going to watch Azra destroy herself (and quietly behind all temper, she didn’t like the idea of simply leaving Azra to do it with a copy of her ability, no matter how unwanted it was). 

“Go on, Az, do it again,” Rose goaded, eyes glittering with temper that found a new target. “I will follow you around this fucking house and keep taking it from you if I have to. I’m not going to let you summon your own damn destruction and believe me, I am angry enough right now to be that petty.”

The soft sound of her name on Rose’s lips did nothing to draw her attention, and when sympathy shifted to rage instead, Rose snapped and the whiskey blinked out of her hand before she could react. She pitched the summoned bottle out the front door and it hit the ground with a pop muted by the soaked front lawn (dampened probably due to a rainstorm probably courtesy of Reese). Her hand tipped palm-upwards as she made to summon another, expression flat, when Rose snarled at her. 

Anger and hurt curled in her stomach, and the words you weren’t here pressed against her lips, but she ground her teeth together and remained silent. That wasn’t fair--or maybe it was, but it didn’t matter--Rose needed out. She deserved to be happy, and whatever sent her back here ripped it away so forcibly that it sent her here again, back to monsters with and without their faces, back to ultimatums that promised destruction. The rage dissipated quickly and her shoulders dropped as hopelessness seeped in once more.

There was no point in summoning another bottle. Her own magic was always a mimicry, and no matter how hard she practiced, she couldn’t match the original in speed or potency. Rose would win every time whether she liked it or not. “Why’d you come back,” she asked, voice hoarse. She couldn’t bring herself to put an edge to the words, not even as Rose practically shouted her down. Her hands wrapped tightly around her torso now and she shifted from foot to foot as she looked around the pair of them, wondering if the woman in the library knew she was back and if it set a clock about ticking. 

“You shouldn’t have come back,” she added as tears welled in her eyes. Kneel or perish. Kneel or perish. Rose didn’t deserve that.

Alcohol never made her feel the way she wanted it to, the way she needed. Instead, it left her buzzing and anxious and uncomfortably out of control of herself, even if she hadn’t quite had enough to completely lose herself to inebriation. It’s why her feet brought her to Daniel’s room instead of her own where she might have drained the rest of her bottle of whiskey and passed out in her bathtub until she awoke to morning light or some fresh magical horror.

Part of her hurt for the lapse, but she chose to ignore it. She had to, or she’d lose it completely.

Nadine tried to keep her from drinking--and succeeded at least for a while--but she’d managed to start the second Rose walked in the door, understandably upset and distracted enough to allow Azra to mimic her magic. Nothing helped, nothing managed to quell the persistent, nagging fear that consumed her every thought. Kneel or perish. Kneel or perish. She spent the evening crying on and off; she knew it was childish and ridiculous. Crying solved nothing, but apparently neither did anything else.

Every piece of air around the Lair was heavy with what had just happened —- and Azra’s reaction just told Nadine that the room she had been in hadn’t been the one to have been presented with a mindblowing situation. “No,” Nadine began with a sigh, “I don’t.” Her voice was understanding yet stern; she knew something was wrong and she wanted to know what it was —- whether it was for the good of the Council or just for Azra, Nadine could guess it was the latter. After all, the Council wasn’t exactly invoking any positive feelings inside of her lately. “And you’re not going to either.” It wasn’t a suggestion. 

“Whatever happened,” she started, shaking her head as she kept her eyes on Azra, though still keeping her distance; no matter how bad things were, Nadine never forgot about Azra’s power and what she could do with Nadine’s, “alcohol is not gonna fix it.” Nothing was, not if they didn’t do something about it —- and whatever Azra had gone through, Nadine knew that she could help. She had to help. 

Nadine gulped. “Someone came to you.” Although she was just throwing it and hoping it would stick, everything pointed towards it. 

“I’m not looking to fix anything,” she said with uncharacteristic sharpness. Kneel or perish. She sure as hell wasn’t about to kneel to whatever this was just like she wouldn’t listen to the thing that wore her face in the garden, and that meant something sinister, in her mind. And painful. She couldn’t deal with this, and she wasn’t about to stand in a hallway and explain this to Nadine of all people. She took a few steps backwards towards her destination, arms folded.

“It doesn’t matter,” she continued with a shake of her head. “Nothing matters. Nothing we do matters!” Her tone elevated and she finally met Nadine’s gaze, eyes glossy as tears threatened to spill over once more. “Feiyan’s gone, and apparently we can listen to whatever is fucking with us and potentially-- I don’t know-- destroy the entire world-- or we can die. I’m not about to listen to some ancient asshole because none of this makes sense, and given that my other option is to leave the fucking planet, I’m just going to make sure it hurts less.” By the end, anger crept into her voice, the product of someone so cornered by fear and stress that they couldn’t mentally wrestle their way out anymore.

and so, all good things come to an end. when & where: August 9th, right near the front door of The Lair status: Open!

It started with a flash of white lightening on a perfectly clear day progresses to everyone around her screaming and screaming and SCREAMING before ultimately it devolved to first Rose screaming herself, then crying and finally—begrudgingly—using Mitch to bring her back. She’d tried really hard to ignore the message, but no matter how wild and indulgent she wanted to be, it was hard to ignore unexplained—and therefore likely magical and related to her—destruction to a city she adored and people losing their fucking shit around her, begging her to leave, to go back.

Despite everything, despite how selfish she wanted to be, despite how badly she wanted to stay away and pretend magic wasn’t real and that there wasn’t anything wrong, she couldn’t ignore this.

Upon return, after a conversation with Mitch, she had to take a moment to admit, there was momentary relief in the fact that The Lair wasn’t immediately filled with screaming, before it was replaced by a deep sort of anger at the fact that she was—for the time being only, she hoped—stuck here.

She abandoned Mitch without much apology and wandered to the main lobby of the huge house.

“I’m home,” she called while standing in the vestibule, voice loud and suspiciously light, like she didn’t have a care in the world, as means to summon someone. There was a pause in which she simply stood waiting to see who’d appear first, not that she particularly cared who that might be because she wasn’t going to be happy to see anyone and she only had one thing to say.

As soon as someone appeared, she pinned them with a look that spoke to barely suppressed temper—something none of them had cause to be familiar with because it wasn’t often her way—and said, in a voice pressured by temper, “Don’t say you’re happy to see me, don’t even try to play like this is fun, happy times reunion with Rose. You have two options. Either you tell me what the fuck you assholes did to ruin everything for me or you tell me who I’m summoning to get answers.”

It hurt, seeing her here again, knowing just how happy she was in Nashville. It truly must have been something cataclysmic to chase her back here--and chase was certainly the right word. Nothing would have pried Rose from that life unless it had been truly awful, and so while it hadn’t been her intention to answer Rose’s surprisingly cheerful greeting, she appeared there all the same, expression blank save the heaviness brought on by emotional exhaustion. 

And even though it hurt more, Azra simply let her yell, though she couldn’t hide the flinch and the way tears burned in her eyes at her tone. Rose wouldn’t hurt her, she reminded herself, but the physical reaction remained as it always was in these situations: numbness in her fingers, tears in her eyes, an uptick in her heartbeat as her body made ready to bolt before anger progressed into a physical altercation. She didn’t, of course--instead she remained rooted to the spot, gaze averted, hands shaking but at her sides. 

TIME: August 9th, after the meeting LOCATION: Hallway STATUS: Closed, @suvaris

From the moment Nadine had seen Levi, her distrustful nature had told her to not buy any of the words that were spoken, no matter how good the price seemed to be. The other part of her, the one that trusted herself and her judgment, allowed her ears to hear what he had to say. Still, something inside of her was buzzing —– if she had gotten her own mission, others had their own goals as well and Nadine couldn’t help but wonder what the other’s to-do list included. 

As she made her way towards her bedroom, to read the book she had gotten again, see what else she could use, Nadine walked into someone. She was ready to strike down whoever it was for literally standing in her way ( after all, that’s what her own self had told her to do, should anyone stop her, right? ) but the moment her eyes fell on Azra, all of her anger disappeared. Instead, there was nothing but confusion and concern, her observant eyes noticing the redness surrounding Azra’s. 

“Azra,” The name escaped Nadine’s lips as a soft breath; she felt like she had to reach out, put her hands on the other’s shoulders and make Azra look at her, but she refrained from doing so. “What’s going on?” It wasn’t a far-fetched thought to deduce that whatever came to greet her, had greeted the others.

“When you are all present, you have a decision to make. Kneel to me and retain your magic with my guidance, or succumb to your fear and perish.”

Every single thing that happened since Feiyan’s disappearance was wrong. (Balfour excluded--she couldn’t quite bring herself to distrust him.) The flickering of power, the mishaps with the leylines, every subsequent horror happened as soon as their leader vanished. Whatever she just saw in the library counted among the worst, and she refused to bend to whatever instruction these outsiders gave her in Feiyan’s absence. Azra couldn’t help but let the threat shake her to her bones, and that fear she admitted to Rose weeks ago looked to be true: they were going to die, and it wouldn’t be painless. 

Out of her mind with fear, Azra left the library with a particular destination in mind. If she was going to die, it may as well hurt a little less.

She barely registered Nadine as she passed her, tears streaking her cheeks despite a flat expression as she brushed past her. Only when she spoke did Azra turn, dark eyes focused on a spot on Nadine’s shoulder as a means to keep herself from meeting her gaze. “Going to the rec room,” she said, voice brittle. It wasn’t an answer--she knew she couldn’t properly describe the problem anyway, and so she didn’t bother trying. “I’m going to see how fast I can pound that new bottle of tequila. Want to come?”

“I know,” Nadine began, letting out a small sigh, “nothing that looks like me is a friend.” Nadine knew herself, even if she didn’t know in which side of the spectrum she would end up. Nadine knew that whatever that thing was, it saw her as a means to an end —– a pawn to manipulate her into doing whatever its plan was. Although her other self’s offer had been enticing ( something that still lurked on the back of her mind ), Nadine’s focus was on finding Fei. After that, she didn’t know what came next and she doubted she would until the moment came. Nadine also knew that whatever that book offered, something must be taken in turn. There are always consequences to one’s actions and Nadine was well aware of that. However, desperate times called for desperate measures and whatever consequences came knocking, after they found Fei, Nadine would count on The World’s help. “I just want to find Fei, Azra.” And that was, at the core, all Nadine wanted from the book —- for now.

Nadine pressed her lips together after she heard Azra’s apology. “I have a book with dark magic,” Nadine began, letting her words fade out, tilting her head before she continued, “I don’t blame you for not trusting my decision to read it, use it.” Even in friendship, Nadine knew there was always room for distrust and dislike to develop and that she made it extremely easy for someone to jump right onto those feelings. Was she surprised those words had been spoken? Not at all. Was her chest somewhat beaten up at the thought that Azra assumed the worst, even for just one second? Maybe, but that didn’t matter. “I’m using what I was given to get some clue on what happened to Fei, how we can find her.” Nadine knew she didn’t have to justify herself to anyone —– at the end of the day, she had her self. Her conflicted self.

Her eyebrows furrowed, as she focused all of her attention in Azra’s words. Where there were two people seeing their shadow selves, there could be three or four. Nadine ran her hand on her face, trying to make sense of what Azra had told her. Her eyes narrowed when Azra cut herself off. The mention of Daniel had come as a surprise and Nadine couldn’t help but wonder why he had been mentioned to Azra by something that wanted to manipulate her. She shook her head, expelling those thoughts out of her mind before she looked at Azra again, this time because she had mentioned what the monster had said to Azra about her. “Then don’t believe it,” Nadine stated with a shrug; she didn’t want Azra to believe those words but Nadine also didn’t have the ability to say the right thing. 

“You said the monster turned on you,” the brunette began, wanting to change topics and distract her mind, “what did it do to you?” Azra was still alive and breathing, no wounds on her —- not on the skin Nadine could see —– so it was an obvious and logical question, though inside of her, Nadine was starting to feel a sort of… quiet anger, that something had hurt Azra. Nadine would not show any indication of that, though, and having a line of questioning that required only facts should keep any suspicious words and actions from coming up.  

Something about that stung, the idea that Nadine couldn’t possibly be viewed as someone’s friend. She knew the other didn’t say it to be self-deprecating; it was merely something believed as fact. Truthfully, it was something Azra related to on a personal level. If you’re me and I don’t trust myself, how can I trust you? The words still rang true, even though she’d long since realized the monster in the garden was not her at all. “That’s not true,” she said softly. “You’re still my friend.”

Black magic. So that part wasn’t a lie, not entirely. Azra frowned gently, the look rooted in fear rather than judgement or anger. None of them knew anything about any magic other than their own, and delving into something more powerful, more volatile, could result in the destruction her mirror promised. “You should bring it to the whole council,” she said. “I know you want to like... see if there’s any merit to it, but... Feiyan wanted us together for a reason. We’re better as a group, and if there’s anything in that book that might help, all of us working on it has to be better than just you. You could miss something, you know?” For now, she kept secret the monster’s prediction that Nadine would bring about death and destruction for the council and the lair itself. If it intended to sew discord, then Azra needed to guard herself against becoming an agent of it. Nadine didn’t deserve to be accused of anything again.

A grimace crossed Azra’s features when asked to recount exactly how and why the monster turned on her. She folded her arms across her chest, hands gripping just above her elbows, and pitched her torso forwards somewhat as she tried to piece together a coherent explanation. The only thing clear and pronounced in her mind was that awful shriek the monster unleashed as Azra sprinted to the house, and the memory prompted a hollow expression as she stared blankly across the room for a moment. In a blink, the expression vanished as Azra trained her features to something a little more neutral, though fear still bled through despite her best efforts.