#noah 01

Amau Dessert was usually a place Sou avoided visiting. The heat could be a lot to handle, even for someone who got as easily cold as him! However, he heard rumors about the Stepping Stone Resort having a marketplace with all sorts of different stores around. 

Not like he needed something in particular, but he didn’t mind browsing through stores once in a blue moon. So far it has been a relaxing trip outside of Techno Solar for once. Though as usual, things couldn’t go as easily... Or at least that was what he thought when he met someone familiar. That was... Noah, right? He met him briefly before in a library where they did exchange some small talk about the books there. But what was he doing here?

The boy in question though was already busy talking to the owner of this place. Wait, were they discussing the price of the item in front of Noah? Sounded like an awful deal for something that... looked like a simple popup toy? Why would anyone want to buy that for this ridiculous price?

@noah-ismail

“Fuck.” Oh, now this is just unkind. Straight up cruel, honestly, to put her through this shit. Grieving a mother, being walloped by all sorts of reunions, and now... this one? The sort of thing she’d never expected. Had actively avoided, in fact, refusing to set foot anywhere near London or, hell, within the country of England. To avoid this precise interaction. But here they are, miles from where they’d last met, and she’s looking at Noah Ismail just as he looks at her. The universe is especially full of cruel tricks, it seems. It’s not as if she can’t see his face drop. And surely it’s awkward for him. After all, their parting words had not exactly been the fondest, severing an employment package and some sort of relationship in one fell swoop. But what he doesn’t know — that’s what weighs on her with sudden, nauseating force. What he can’t know. What she’ll never let him or anyone else know. Swallowed down hard and forced behind clenched teeth that somehow, impossibly, form something akin to a smile. Hell if she won’t be polite. After all, they were, well... friends once, weren’t they? “Noah.” Well, that’s one way to start this. More words would be ideal, though. “You’re, um — well, I guess I never expected you to leave London. For anything but travel, anyway. So, color me surprised. You look...” A beat, a frown. She’s no vampire, no werewolf either, so her sense of smell helps none. But she can certainly see something... or a lack of something. No breathing. He’s still, his chest not rising and falling. Interesting. Magic, maybe, but that’s what Ismails are known for. Not exactly looking for a question and answer session, she moves on. “Um. You look well. It’s been...” Fourteen years and about eight months, but who’s counting? “A while. How are you?”

“First and foremost,” pipes up the younger sister, legs crossed as she leans back in her brother’s desk chair: “I have some genuine concerns about the lack of a lock on your door. Now, don’t start with that ‘I can’t die, what do I care’ nonsense, because that’s just stupid. You should have some sense of self preservation, dead or undead.” Nina had never worried much about safety before. That had always been her brother’s forte, or her security detail’s. Now, though? It’s on her mind constantly. “Secondly -- well, I suppose maybe this should have been first, but I am seriously concerned about the fact that you leave this door wide open for any ramshackle Lethean to come skulking through. Anyway.” Finally, a smile, genuine as can be despite the exhaustion in her eyes, despite the recent stress that her brother is currently ignorant to. She’d like to keep it that way. Too good to be true, though. Nina knows that much. “Hello, Noah. No warning, I know. I would’ve called, but it was a bit of a last last second trip, and you know how I’ve always enjoyed a dramatic entrance.” Her smile is still on as she tilts her head, giving a nod of approval. “You look well.”

“Noah Greyheart will be expecting me; send him to this table the moment you see him,” Dimitri ordered smoothly as he took a seat in the private, VIP area of Baba’s, a leather-bound menu laid before him on the table. He glanced at the contents, holding his wine glass up without tearing his gaze from the menu as a waiter filled the contents of his glass with a crisp white wine.

“Blagodaryu vas; many thanks,” he said, taking a sip from his glass as he struggled to decide if he wanted to order an appetizer for him and his sister’s bodyguard or not. Even though Tatiana had returned to them, Dimitri had much he wished to discuss with his sister’s keeper.