Verlassen [Invite]

[Leonie von der Marck]

“It means being linked by more than the family history. It is sharing the offspring that comes from that. Being responsible for nurturing those kids, the relationship they will depend on with their parents while growing. I won’t be the father I had. I refuse to settle for seeing my kid on a weekend here or there. I know that means compromising, trust, commitment and if need be sacrifice to make sure that doesn’t happen. And I love you.” - Louvel von der Marck

The dark-haired von der Marck heiress woke with a startle, taking a few beats to remember where she was as his words echoed in her head. The Estate… not the cottage where they’d begun their life together. Dreams born of memories had shaken something loose even as they fractured and, for the first time, tears were streaking down her cheeks, pooling on her pillow, and soaking into a soggy mess even as she shoved hair back from her eyes. To her dismay, and despite being awake, she couldn’t stop them, even after a few minutes. All she could do was shove her face into the pillow and hope to hell she didn’t wake her daughter, or alert Alaric in any way to her distress.

It was strange, that – before now, she had been so numb she'd been unable to shed a single tear. She had been stoic and soldiered on, despite that every day made her feel less like a living, breathing human and more like an empty, dried out shell of one. Even the hard partying that had followed a few weeks after Alis was born did nothing to fill the gaping void in her existence and she’d done the best she could to stuff it down deep and not think, feel, care. It wasn’t a healthy way of handling loss without explanation, she knew, but Leonie had been left behind so many times in her life that her defense mechanisms were solid and swift and nearly impossible to remove. But it appeared her subconscious had won a round – even though months had passed, her thoughts had drifted back to the night they’d gotten engaged, to his warm, so-loving words that she could no longer believe to be true. His promises made, before they ever knew about the tiny life already growing within her womb.

Seemingly overnight, those promises had been dashed to pieces. He hadn’t been there when their girl was born – Melba had been, and later, when night fell, Alaric had come to see them. He hadn’t been there in the aftermath, and hadn’t tried to come home to so much as meet her. He didn't even know her name, for Leonie had changed her mind once she met the tiny newborn, though her middle name remained the same - Mara, for his mother. It had been complete radio silence since just a few weeks before her waters had broken and Leonie still had no idea what happened, no idea why he’d left when he did, ghosting her and abandoning everything to do with being a husband and father as her health had deteriorated in those last few weeks. She’d been left with nothing more than speculation, and the resulting anxiety and absolute panic had done nothing to help ease the burden of illness, either.

Well, not nothing… she’d hired a private investigator after the first few days and nights of silence to ensure he was safe, and alive. Her pride would not allow for much else after her calls went right to voicemail, her texts bounced back, how he never seemed to be around the few times she had managed to drive out to the places he usually could be found. But she needed to know, even if the pain of the truth was worse than she had imagined. It had been reported back that he was indeed alive, and seemed to be himself. Leonie could not be sure that part was true, though, no matter what she was told because she couldn’t reconcile the Louvel she’d known, loved, and married, with the one who, if she were perfectly honest, was acting just like his own failure of a father. If not worse. There were no random weekends to see Alis thus far, not even a whisper of contact… all Leonie knew for sure was that for once, she couldn’t determine what she’d done wrong to drive him away in the first place.

Maybe it was as simple as, in her usual way of getting what she wanted, she had lured him into a life he never really wanted. She had always known he avoided commitment… but then, why make them? Why go through with so much? They’d agreed to marry before they knew about Alis, after all. Promises had been made from the moment their relationship changed to romance, and even before that. And despite all that had transpired, in the end it was those promises she had made that would not allow her to permanently close any doors. She had staunchly ignored the packet of papers sitting on her desk, a packet her father had insisted upon, that would end her marriage in the eyes of the law - once she signed and had them served and filed, anyway. But despite the appearance it was completely over, she could not help but hold out some sort of hope, even if things were not likely to ever be the same again.

The von der Marck woman could forgive, or at least forget, a whole litany of abuses, hurts, harms directed at herself… but where Alis was concerned, if Louvel ever did come back around, it would take a great effort for her to relent in her slowly growing rage. She could not forgive or forget where her daughter was affected, even if she didn’t yet know any better to know who she was missing and how she was being harmed. This was perhaps the only place her namesake came into play in her existence in any way any longer – the Lioness would fiercely protect her young, no matter the cost, even – especially - from her young’s own father.

But for now, in the deep dark of her bedroom, she couldn’t stop the waves of sorrow crashing into her and leaving her unable to do more than surrender to the pain for the first time in nearly six months. With more questions than answers, with everything wrong and not at all how she’d pictured things to be, she could only wonder why.

"Why?!"

No answers whispered back, not yet, but the stirring of another thought began slowly taking shape. Louvel had not just disappeared on herself and Alis. The rest of the family were left reeling with the absence of their Keeper, though he was so much more to so many. Alaric had suffered much loss, too. This was just the latest blow in a long line. Maybe… just maybe… life was teaching her to deal with it, to roll with every punch, in order to prepare for the inevitable decision she would have to make. If Alaric was still even willing to offer it, that was. It would have to wait, this thing she and Louvel had agreed to do together, until Alis was more grown. She knew the many realities of immortality and she wasn’t ready to kiss goodbye being part of all the firsts her daughter would enjoy. But the woman needed to know if it was still a possibility, that there was something to counter the suffering… that it was all worth it for something.

She sat up then, working now to stem the flow of tears that were starting, at last, to dry up. She drew in a deep, shaking breath before wandering to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Without much hesitation, once she was certain she looked more presentable again, Leonie checked on the slumbering infant, set up the monitor, and wandered off to find her elder.

Surely, he would have some of the answers.

[Alaric von der Marck]

[wearing]

The suit that Alaric wore had a sharp shine to it. It fit him like a glove.

The tie was olive, but had the look of money.

When dealing with corporate sharks and money-hungry thieves, Alaric had to look the part. The elder had hired someone of this age, someone savvy in the art of managing corporate sabotage—or at least shining a light on those who’d swindled and thieved until they squirmed under the brightness. Ms Weiss had proven herself indispensable, and Alaric was looking forward to reaching the end of their business affairs. Then, he might get to know her without business in the middle, without work to do.

As soon as the sun had set Alaric had dressed and had, by way of a driver hired on recommendation by Salvator’s driver, he’d made his way into the city for a business meeting. It was a meeting of the board, within which he had tactfully discredited one of the swindlers—with the help of those he knew were on his side, of course.

There were plenty on the board who wished to see Alaric gone. For so long they’d been without a competent CEO, and they’d been like kids on a playground without a supervisor. They’d taken advantage of those who had everything to lose, they’d committed fraud, they contributed to ecological and economical decay. As soon as Alaric had taken up his position at the head of von der Marck industries, no longer afraid of the limelight (well, less afraid, more capable of handling it) he made it his mission to weed out the rot and reward the worthy. Being a telepath often made his job that much easier. Not that he could read people’s minds, but sifting their memories while asking them pointed questions often led him in the right direction. Not to mention he could hear their hearts beating in their chests, could see the subtle shifts in their facial features (right down to the sweat that dappled their brows and upper lips) and he could figure out when they were lying to him, when they were trying to avoid answering a question.

And it was often a question of loyalty.

Alaric had discovered that he was old-fashioned in his leadership. He was less ruthless. He did not necessarily want to lead by fear, but instead by respect. He found that it was the older members of the board that gave him that respect, that understood his point of view. The younger ones, the impatient and greedy ones, they were the ones he had to contend with. Which was why he’d needed Anne, of course. They were so spritely in this modern age, and he still had a lot to catch up on.

The meeting over and work done for the evening, Alaric stepped out to the curb and undid the button of his jacket. His driver was waiting for him, and he slid into the back seat—the convenience was insurmountable. He headed for home.

It was about two hours after sunset that the car pulled into the drive. Alaric thanked the driver and gave him the rest of the night off as he wandered up the steps and through the front door, peeling the jacket from his shoulders. He hung it over one of the couches in the sitting room; he then wandered through the house to the back patio, where he could look out upon the estate and the wilderness beyond. The night was far from over. His tongue sucked at his teeth as he leaned against the railing, fingers curled around the white wood, eyes distant.

Ever since Aurelia, he’d got a taste for human blood. He knew he should refrain. He had to go get changed, but whether to change into hunting clothes and to go track down a stag, or whether to head back into the city…

He was torn.

[Leonie von der Marck]

She knew she could have simply reached out to seek him, to call to him from an open mind, but Leonie was already sort of half-dreading the conversation that might follow and almost hoped he would not yet be home, no matter how much she enjoyed – basked, even – in Alaric’s company. In him was the father-like figure her own had stopped being when she was barely a teenager and she couldn’t have been more grateful for both the guidance and the permanent home within the Estate. The guidance that should have always come from Oskar now mostly came from the resurrected Elder, and Leonie had to admit, though the lessons and advice were not always what she wanted to hear, she appreciated and valued all of it, all the same. Lessons and advice that had been long missing from her life, and sorely needed. Though Oskar had come some way toward making up for it, it was not and never would be the same.

They’d talked about immortality on several occasions, the most recent being the night they’d mended their conflict over how the woman had chosen to navigate her sudden status change, and at that moment, she hadn’t thought herself anywhere near to choosing that path. Not anymore, and she’d said as much. But, she had come to realize, that had been months prior, when life was looking bleak and all plans for the future had been rent to bits. Alis had still been a newborn and Leonie had still been grappling with single parenthood, while floating about without much in the way of purpose or use to anyone. She still was learning her way about being a mother, she knew, as she drew in a trembling breath, but things had changed, mostly for the better. Alis was thriving and happy, so she knew she had to be doing something right, and she was also learning her way about public relations and event planning for the family corporation while stepping into a role she’d never anticipated – the public face of a company bearing a name she’d spent too many years running away from.

But, perhaps just as importantly, she had had more time to think. And she knew now, without a doubt and even without the blonde demigod she once thought would be with her, at her side for always, that it was still a future she wanted. No matter that her life had taken an unexpected and mostly unwanted turn; no matter that she had once been terrified to take those steps without Louvel. Still was, she had to admit, but with new responsibilities and purpose had come a new kind of strength. Her backbone was returning, she was no longer stumbling through life like a shadow of her former self. Though she still felt nothing like the Lioness of old, Leonie knew now, without a doubt, that things were changing for the better and she deserved more. She deserved better and had every right to shape her life how she wished.

She drew a deep breath as she made her way past the sitting room. A suit jacket was draped casually over the back of a sofa – uncharacteristic, but also a sure sign Alaric might be home, for there was no other residing within their walls at present, even if people had a tendency to come and go. For a half-second, Leonie considered taking it with her and hanging it up, but then, she didn’t want to interfere with his belongings, either. Fingers curled back from the expensive fabric as she finally admitted she had no idea where he might be, after all.

“Alaric… Are you home? May I see you?”

[Alaric von der Marck]

The meandering thoughts were always buffered by common sense and a power of will that had been nurtured through centuries. The taste for human blood was a shameful thing for the elder; it was like an addict abstaining from alcohol for a decade only to have a single drink one night. A single only drink that then turned into five, and another ten the following night. Alaric felt like that addict now, like he’d fallen from grace, like he’d failed himself. The driver had been sent away and if Alaric was to go back into the city it would be to call said driver back, after he’d already been given the night off. It would mean walking into the city, or riding the bike that he’d purchased. But it was so quiet here, on the estate, and the hunt? Well, there was more thrill in the hunt out there in the wilderness than on the city streets.

The hunting clothes would be retrieved. The decision was made, even if there was a voice in the back of his head hoping that there’d be more than just stags out there. Hoping that some fool had decided to go camping for the weekend. Maybe not even one fool, but a few. Alaric could pick them off, one by one…

A low growl resounded in his throat as his fingers curled tighter around the bannister, stopping only when the wood started to splinter. There was then a tug at his mind, and he opened it up; the sound of Leonie’s voice had him releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Leonie. He thought of Alis. He thought of those poor campers he’d been imagining, and whether they might have families waiting for them at home. What if it was a family. What if Leonie and Alis were hunted the same way Alaric was gleefully imagining hunting others?

It helped to sober him, and now that he was focused inward rather than outward, senses shifting from the dark of the wilderness to the warmth of the home behind him, he could hear her. He caught her scent as the breeze picked it up and carried it through the house, out onto the patio where he stood.

”Raus hier,” he called, voice carried down the hall to the room where Leonie stood. If she stepped out the door and looked down the hall she would see him, just. He hadn’t turned the outdoor lights on, though he did so now, turning and reaching through the door to where they could be found. Illuminated, he would smile at her in greeting as soon as she approached.

[Leonie von der Marck]

The sound of the German rolling gently down the hall was as much a life-long, familiar pleasure as it was a knife through her soul. The ease with which almost all of her generation switched from it to English was second nature; the two languages were interchangeable and naturally mixed by habit. It had been that way within the cottage, too, leaving Leonie’s mind to wander once again, tiptoeing back to memories of hopes that were no longer. She had thought, in lazy future daydreams, that Alis would grow up hearing her parents easing between the two without forethought as they always had – always, from the time they themselves were children – but it seemed it was not to be.

She sucked in a breath, one that still trembled, full of the memory of the recent tears, and slowly released it as she made her way down the hall. As she went, the lights turned on. As Alaric had always done for her since his rising, the path was lit to guide her way. The thought brought a smile to her face, brief and wan though it was, as she considered that it was almost a given that she would ask for that same guidance now, and in consideration of her future.

“Guten Abend… wie geht es dir?” she answered in the same language as he at last came into her line of sight. The smile renewed at the sight of his own and she moved easily to stand beside him. She met his gaze for a moment before it moved out over the grounds, those still tended by the people Lou had hired, but nowhere near as often or to the level of perfection they once had been. A sigh left her lips as she carefully avoided looking out upon the parts of the cottage that could be seen from their vantage. The neglect of the land alone was a shame, but ever more evidence to add to the mounting pile that things were not right. Nothing was, nor had it been for far too long. She wasn't sure things would ever be right again.

“Its too quiet tonight,” she said softly, keeping to herself for the moment why she was awake at such an hour when normally the sheer exhaustion of keeping a tiny human not only alive but happy had her easily falling asleep before 11 pm most nights. She supposed, her mind open to him as always, that he could hazard a guess, but she would not call attention to it, nor the tear-swollen eyes or flushed skin that had already begun to fade back to nothing more than a momentary weakness.

[Alaric von der Marck]

”Gut, gut,” he responded in German, before slipping to the English that Leonie preferred. She’d joined him outside, and he’d turned his attention back to the grounds. He arched a brow, closed his eyes and allowed his mind to briefly scan the estate.

“It is no quieter than usual. I like it,” he said with a frown. The estate was not used by the majority of the remaining von der Marck, and if it weren’t for Leonie Alaric would have moved to some cabin out in the middle of nowhere by now. He detested the empty estate, as if walking its halls was just a reminder of all that he had lost. Not just in the last couple of years, but in centuries past. He did not dwell upon the losses, however. Dwelling got a person nowhere. He instead focused on what was left, and on the future that he might create; on the new life that he might live.

He was of course aware that Leonie still grieved, but it was not a subject he would bring up. He had advised her that she ought to move on and they had already discussed the Keeper’s disappearance at great length. It was not something he wished to discuss any further, and wondered whether it would be too harsh if he were to take Leonie by the shoulders and tell her, very firmly, that it was time to move on. It was not worth wasting precious moments of her life lost to grief that cannot be fixed.

”You are awake. Were you waiting for me?” he asked, curious. It might have appeared rude that he did not ask after Leonie’s wellbeing; he could tell by the puffiness under her eyes that she still was not doing good, and her grief might also explain why she was awake so late. Rather than open the floor for a discussion which may end up hurting her, his query instead opened the floor to different topics of conversation.

[Leonie von der Marck]

She had to smile at his assessment of the silent stillness of the night; so often it was just he and she and Alis those nights, and most of the time that was enough for the likes of Leonie. But waking in the middle of the night was a disorienting thing now, and it being quiet enough to hear her own pulse was not something she usually took too kindly to. There was a specific sort of loneliness that came with such a thing. “I suppose,” she conceded out loud, though, with a nod and without argument – even the amicable sort. After all, he would know far better than she these nights.

She cleared her throat softly, still gazing out upon the grounds. There was not a soul to be seen, despite the ghosts of memories clinging to every corner, despite that she wished, so dearly, that there was someone out there… someone very particular… and that it had all been a bad dream. But the reality was vastly different and the old specters would fade out with the morning light as they did every other day. At his question, her attention snapped back to her elder and she shook her head. “Not at first, no. Bad dreams,” was all she said by way of explanation. She was no fool. It was clear they had said all they could on the matter of her estranged husband’s absence and she had been advised by more than one person, Alaric included, to move on already. But for a woman like her, one who had previously only lived in the moment, chasing after scandal and adventure, it was no easy feat to simply let go of the promise of forever. That promise, once made, was etched upon her very soul and it was not so simple a matter as signing the pile of papers that would end her marriage and move on to someone or something else. No matter how furious she was, or how certain it seemed she had been abandoned, nor how right they all probably were, Leonie could not bring herself to close that door. Not completely.

“But…” she added quietly, “I have been thinking.”

[Alaric von der Marck]

There were people that Alaric missed, too.

There were places he could visit that would bring him pain. Even this estate had once felt like a tome of people lost, of betrayal, of loneliness. But it was better to focus on what could still come rather than on what was gone, and when considering what was gone, it was better to focus on the good things, the good memories, rather than on the bad. Eternity stretched out in front of him, and though Leonie did not have that, it could still be the same. This house was once home to many bodies, and he would wake in the evening to laughter and chattering and music.

There’d been times when it was quiet, too, when it was near empty. There were phases. They came and went, and he could not expect everyone to stay in one place. There was a whole, wide world out there. But the estate would always be here, a beacon, a place to come to should they need shelter and succour.

Even if he had considered moving out into the middle of nowhere, some night unable to stand how big and seemingly empty the place was. If it weren’t for Leonie, he might have already done it. But, he’d found other things to preoccupy his time, and some of that loneliness had ebbed. He turned to Leonie. She had been thinking. What, he wondered, had occupied her mind of late? She didn’t bring up her erstwhile husband, and Alaric wondered if that was what was coming next.

“Is it your bad dreams that have informed your thinking?” he asked. He gestured toward a couple of chairs nearby; they were white and made of metal, and they might not look comfortable from the outset but they were fitted with cushions. And it was somewhere to settle while they talked.