BOW DOWN

Shiv only came to this gala for two reasons.

One, to let all of Port Leiry, including their attackers, know that Kanta Shah is still alive and well. Two, to find a witch. Specifically the witch connected to this spoiled raccoon familiar and then the witch that tended to their comatose body, Thera Wendell. Whatever order in which these events happened did not matter.

If Shiv was lucky, these two witches would be the same person and they could kill two birds with one stone, but they're not holding their breath. "Wendell, Wendell, Wendell..." They mutter to themself. Wherever could she be?

Restless eyes hold a keen focus as they scan every face amongst the crowd, searching for anyone that could vaguely feel familiar. The hunter maneuvers through the venue with purpose, occasionally reaching for fancy hors d'oeuvres as an offering to the equally fancily dressed fiend on their shoulders. "Here. Try this one." The raccoon makes a face. She's surprisingly a very picky eater. Most of the food Shiv gave her has been tossed aside. So much so that it's leaving a snail trail of crumbs and half-eaten finger food behind the hunter.

Zane's eyebrows raised slightly as he watched the man move through the crowd. He seemed a bit off. Suspicious, even. Not that Zane minded. Honestly, the Gala needed some liveliness to it. And if this guy and his raccoon -- a fucking raccoon -- helped with that, then Zane wasn't going to step in the way.

In fact, he'd much rather influence it.

@zanexxpatel asked: ✐

198. ❛ But sometimes you leave blood on your instruments. ❜

"You always do play coy, Patel." It's playful, the lilt in her tone lowers but there in an anticipation in the truth. The knowledge that if Zane knows this power, then there's a very real possibility of the truth being so very close. He knows who she is; he knows her gambit. "You can name it." If that's what he likes. Castillon does not understand the intricacies of the witch's magic, but she knows that they steal essence the same way vampires take blood and immortals do not wither like mortals when they make a little donation. There's a casual affair to this business talk, because this is friends exchanging favours: "But I'm sure I know what you want, and I have a clan who would made the same trade with you, if you desire it so."

She does like it when he cuts straight to business, because she's not far off asking where Harley is, and it feels like she'll never get to the crux of a story if they're both there, bickering about how to tell it.

So very entertaining though. But she'd stopped gambling on them because Zane always dominates.

Castillon leans on the cashier's desk, "I keep hearing a rumour," she begins, in a sigh, "—involves blood, and magic. And the dead walking beneath the sun." In short, she makes it sound like a joke; a wry smile that means eavesdroppers might not think so much of it. Let them. Between her and Zane, nothing is coming in and out, even if they have got earwiggers listening in. "Now, would you know anything about that?" a beat, to drum fingers along the desk. "Feels rather like your kind of kingdom's fun, Z."

As he listened to her inquiry, his lips curled upwards. Yes, he'd heard the rumors. Not only that, but he knew about the magic and how to utilize it. He'd just never had a reason to do it much, in the past. "What interesting rumors." He mused as his eyes met hers. "I do know a bit about it, yes. Not all rumors are fake."

        allie stirs from sleep at the feeling of total surrounding warmth, even surer than the sun. something solid that allie could reach out and touch, feel through her skin to something that rushed through her veins, not kept behind the glass of a window. it felt … familiar, and safe. wild in a way that meant lawless, but free. what’s brought in by her senses filters in through her dreams, she can hear soft voices, the pads of fingers she knows, intimately, against her cheek. a kiss is brought to her lips, coaxing out a fire that makes her melt into the touch. zane’s name comes to mind from the darkness, a feather of a pulse through the blood of wherever he touches, even before allie can see his face.

        though it’s not until her eyes open that she realizes that where she is, is not at all her bed. allie breathes out a soft, shy greeting, drawn into the current of zane’s eyes.  “ hi, ”  sleep clouds her head, turns her thoughts into fluffy cotton candy that is pulled apart into sugary nothingness, but finding harley grounds her in a way. her craving for affection, touch, and the two of them overwhelms the way her heart starts to panic. allie draws forward, embracing zane with her arms around his shoulders, so she could be close to both of them. her little hopeful face tucks over zane’s shoulder, eyes fluttering to harley with sincerity, before losing their nerve and dancing away again. she has a flurry of questions where her memory of last night gaps, the nicknames turn her so sweet and dizzy that it makes it hard for any one to get through. but she manages,  “ i get to stay for breakfast? ”

He pulled back slightly, turned his head, and kissed Harley on the temple. "I'll make waffles and pancakes, if that's what you guys want." He didn't care, really. He just wanted to make sure that the both of them had enough to eat after such a long night. "And you two can stay in bed while I cook." It would give Allie some alone time with Harley, if that's what she desired.

Flashback to a month and some weeks, shortly after Declan arrives in PL...

Declan doesn't ask questions. Not because he doesn't have them, (and holy fuck, he has so many questions, pressing hot and anxious at the back of his throat) but because Jameson doesn't leave room for any. The man said Declan is to sleep here, and Declan simply nodded. Because it's Jameson who brought him back.

Jameson is the reason why he's able to see his family again and the reason why his family gets to see him again. He's the reason Declan has a second chance. He owes Jameson, and he knows that. And as steep as the cost of living feels, Declan finds he can't bring himself to waste away, either.

So here he stands, in the doorway of a place he doesn't know, where he isn't certain who or what to expect. Just one duffel bag hanging off his shoulder -- the only thing he owns now. The rest of his belongings are boxed up and abandoned in a storage unit back in Colorado.

He breathes in deep, slow. Exhales just the same. It doesn't help. If anything, it makes everything feel worse.

"Hi," he quietly greets. "Sorry, I think I'm supposed to be staying here? I wasn't told much else." Not an accusation or complaint, as right as he would be to do so, but instead a plead for this individual to go easy on him.

As he opened the door, Zane eyed the other closely. He wasn't quite sure what he expected the man to look like but this... wasn't it. Neither did Zane expect such submissive demeanor to practically radiate off of him. Maybe this won't be so bad, after all. "Of course. Yes." Zane offered Declan a smile as he took a step back and motioned for the other to enter. "We've already set your room up for you. Up the stairs and to the left. Right across the hall from our own room, should you need anything." A pause. "If there's something you need while you stay here, let me or Harley know. We'll do our best to accommodate."

There's a rumour flying around the mouths of too many 'maru, and even more stories told in whispers between those less than. It started at the craps table, and became a buzz in the tearoom. A mosquito that's built an immunity to a poison.

At first, Castillon might have believed it to fizzle out; the excitement of a tragic affair misconstrued. Because a daywalker seemed impossible; an artefact that had slipped beneath Nsilo's nose in the city she spent so long learning. She needs a violent certainty before she can imagine the reality of a clan who might reap their power under the sun, as much as they do the night.

She trusts far and few when it comes to witches. Too many around that have been screwed over by vampire, more made into enemy for their delectable blood. Few that care to do business, let alone favours for each other, without something vengeful underlying every transaction. But Z's a friend; a partner in blood, if one were to look at it that way. If anyone knows anything about a new bloodspell, revolving around a discovered trinket, it'd be the king of blood magic himself.

Fortunately, he's never difficult to find.

She throws an easy tease as she walks up the aisles of Eden: "Why must I always walk into your kingdom of phallacy, and I never see you in mine?"

“Darling! You look utterly stunning!” There is a casual elegance to the way she speaks, the hint of an accent one cannot quite place, but the effect is quite alluring. “Did you miss me terribly?”  

He remembered the time they'd spent with her fondly. Zane and Harley had left Port Leiry to explore his power, after the first time he had taken someone's life force from them. It was an accident, it wasn't planned or meant to happen but it had, and they decided to leave to explore it and have many important conversations about what this could mean for their future. It was a fond time for Harley, despite all the fear in it all. "How have you been? Where have you been?" @zanexxpatel

"Hm?" Zane glanced towards the woman that Harley had been talking to and raised his eyebrows. "Julieta?" Fuck, they hadn't seen her in what felt like ages. "Never had I ever guessed I'd see you here, babe." Zane then moved around Harley and wrapped an arm around Julieta's waist. He pulled her in close and then kissed her temple. "Tell us everything."

"No, I wouldn't. Even I have my limits, you know that." No matter how fond they got of someone, it would have to be such a strong bond for him to allow that. A bond almost as strong as the one they shared with each other; no matter how deeply he found himself caring for some people they'd enjoyed together over the years, he couldn't ever imagine inviting one to stay in their bed every single night, share their space every single day. He would get no one on one time with Zane, and Harley wouldn't be able to handle that.

Zane hummed as he listened to Harley, knowing that his boyfriend wasn't entirely wrong. He tended to push the boundaries of their relationship at times -- insisting on dominating both in and outside of the bedroom. Zane was comfortable with it. He liked it that way. He didn't want to be seen as weak. "You can make your own decisions, for yourself and for us. Whether I like what you choose..." Zane shrugged. "I'm sure I won't some of the time." Just as Harley might not like the current decision that Zane had just chosen for the two of them.

Where? Zane's house.

Who? @zanexxpatel

Jameson is no stranger of asking for favors. Scratch his back, he'll scratch yours. So he says. He has a tendency to run and run his mouth in order to get what he wants. When all is said and done, when his cup overfloweth, when its time to return the favor, Jameson is nowhere to be found.

He'd never do anything of the sort to his dear friend, Zane.

He's cashed in a big favor from the old as shit witch recently. Provide room and board for my little Frankenstein's monster, would ya? Jameson's tiny studio apartment is no place to hold a recently reanimated corpse. Plus, what if he wanted to bring a girl over? Declan making a meal out of a bushy tailed squirrel in the middle of the kitchen would be a turn off.

How long is Declan to stay with Zane? Dunno. There's no end date in sight. Jameson has no plans of putting the corpse back into the ground just yet. He's riding this wave. The wave of success. Declan was dust by the time Jameson found him. Now, he is whole again. Like a real person. Whenever the excitement wore off, once he was done with him, Declan would once again become dust and Jameson will move on the next thing.

Jameson stops by Zane's house. He's not here for Declan, he knows he's not there. The corpse is probably out and about, haunting the streets of Port Leiry, feasting on the neighbor's house cat, or whatever it is he does in his free time.

Jameson knocks on the door. It's a friendly warning, as he helps himself inside. "Hello?" he calls out. "Anybody home?"

Thankfully, Declan hadn't been much of an issue as of yet. And even if he started causing issues, Zane could easily rectify them. He wasn't worried about it, really. Although, his conversation with Harley made him wonder if he should be concerned about who this person was and what he might be like.

Zane would figure it out, eventually.

There's a knock at the door and then it opens. Zane's hand it out, fingers splayed towards the intruder, ready to grab ahold of their blood to stop them from taking another step further. But when he realized who it was, Zane dropped his hand. I should start locking my door. Especially since he was in nothing but gym shorts.

"Jameson." Zane offered his friend a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"