d'Artois: Events in Time

[Lancaster]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


<Lancaster d’Artois> Elliot had no idea what Roderic was trying to achieve, but he didn’t help matters. He only made them worse. Not only had Elliot not heard back from Skylar since she’d told them she wanted out of the family, but now he had Roderic giving him more reasons not to trust him. Yeah, Elliot knew that he should go and talk to Skylar himself but he didn’t want to. He was feeling stubborn. He was furious. After everything that he had done for her, she was willing to discard him and the d’Artois name for Roderic. Unable to listen to reason, Skylar had thrown away everything because of a stupid ******* forum that Roderic didn’t even want to be a part of. It was like a metaphorical knife to the chest.

How many had Elliot sired? A few. A lot. And what was it good for? They all left, sooner or later, so why was he surprised? Even Cytherea’s return failed to inspire any kind of hope in Elliot. He assumed she must just be passing through. Maybe she wanted something. But she wouldn’t stay. Why would she? Why would anyone?

He wanted to tell himself to let it go. Skylar was a big girl and could take care of herself, and if she chose Roderic then so be it. That was her prerogative. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did and it was that very fact that Elliot was trying to deny. He would not go to her and apologise. He would not give her what she wanted. He mumbled to himself—swearing loudly at intervals—as he paced around the love shack. The space that he and Pi shared to which no one else had access. He had woken up to another email from Roderic and this one he refused to reply to.

He was headed to the shower when he kicked his toe on the dresser. One of the top drawers was open, and he was pretty sure the nail on his little toe had peeled back. It hurt like a ***********. Just the icing on top of the cake, really, and the poor drawer was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Elliot wrenched it from its liner and smashed it on the floor, underwear and socks flying all around.


<Pi d’Artois> Summer had come. Summer meant longer days, hot and humid. It was the sweltering hot beating down on the heads of humans who soaked up the summer rays and sat back to enjoy the abundance of vitamin D. For vampires summer meant long stretches where consciousness was measured in the extra hours of daylight savings. The earlier morning, the longer day that stole time from the nocturnal of their race.

Summer had come. Summer meant longer days, hot and humid. It was the sweltering hot beating down on the heads of humans who soaked up the summer rays and sat back to enjoy the abundance of vitamin D. For vampires summer meant long stretches where consciousness was measured in the extra hours of daylight savings. The earlier morning, the longer day that stole time from the nocturnal of their race.

For Pi daylight meant she spent more time without Elliot, who couldn’t sustain time in even the near sun, who had to wait in body and mind, for the coming of full dark. When she entered the apartment she did so to the crash of something hitting the floor and she winced.

She loved Elliot, she did. But just as he had to learn to love the quiet killer with the penchant for blood and narrow view of death so too had she come to learn to live with the temperamental musician whose moods could swing in step bell curves. “Elliot?” She said softly not needing to say much more than that as she stepped into their place. Peeling off the light cardigan she wore, she tossed it onto the couch following the article of clothing with her body, lazing back.

“What’s happened?” She asked the empty room, knowing if she just stayed put and talked, he would eventually join her.


<Lancaster d’Artois> Almost as soon as the wood splintered, Elliot regretted it. Even as he felt the need to continually kick the thing with his foot, he didn’t. Instead he just stared down at it and realised he’d have to clean that up. Maybe it would be therapeutic, to have to fold all the underwear and the socks again. A mindless task. Of course, he hadn’t heard the door but he heard her voice, now. He didn’t go out to Pi. He stayed in the bedroom. He dropped himself onto the floor where he sat with his back against the bed, sweeping all the articles of clothing toward him so that he could begin the folding process.

“What do you care? You just issued a rule that pissed her off even more and then stepped back and removed yourself from the situation,” he said. He didn’t have to call out to her. He knew that Pi could hear. And although he was slightly annoyed with Pi’s willing absence during this ordeal with Skylar, he knew that she did not deserve the brunt of his anger. But he was pissed off and Pi was the only one nearby.


<Pi d’Artois> Pi shrugged. Skylar had proved herself an inconstant flibbertigibbet and Pi couldn’t really see how it mattered too damn much the little flake had lost her mind over a dude who had the personality of a dead mullet and then proceeded to assume everyone else in her orbit should feel the same. Pi stared at the open door of their bedroom with a small smile. She was quite aware of the similarities of the relationship that was Pi and Elliot.

“Because I can’t be bothered dealing with a woman who decides to have an emotional fall out for something so ridiculous. Plus, you and I don’t agree about Tytonidae. I agree with keeping the Den safe. So that wasn’t hard. I agree we don’t know Ric, and time would be good. But I don’t agree that being in Ty makes him the epitome of evil incarnate. So enforcing that part, for that reason… well….”

She let the sentence falloff the end and closed her eyes, leaning her head back until it rested on the arm of the couch.


<Lancaster d’Artois> The underwear was probably going to get more mangled given Pi’s response and Elliot’s anger, which didn’t ebb but remained at a constant simmer, just below the surface. “I didn’t ******* say that, did I? I told her we don’t know Roderic well enough. Right? Given him being in Tytonidae is the only thing we do know and—why the **** would it not make him evil incarnate? He agreed to all that **** they tried to make you agree with so we know he’d give us up without a second ******* breath,” he said. He kept glancing at the door. He wasn’t really furious with Pi and he was glad that she didn’t rise to it. Now they were just having a slightly prickly conversation.

“You know he killed Dillon? Skylar’s best friend, Dillon. Her thrall. The guy she was living with. One of her band members. She forgave Roderic that the night of. Forgave him. For killing her ******* best friend. He killed her best friend and she thinks we should just welcome him with open arms?! She’s ******* blind,” he said. Why he was bringing that up now, he didn’t know. That had happened ages ago, and he’d defended Roderic then. Vampires could lose control. Elliot knew that. Had experienced that. It was an accident, but still. It was just one of the many things that Skylar had brought to Elliot about the guy that Elliot just did not trust.

He folded a pair of socks. It looked like a mashed up ball of material that could not be identified as a sock. Or two socks. In actual fact, he’d paired opposite socks and was now trying to find a matching pair and was coming up short.


<Pi d’Artois> "Tytonidae lies Elliot... just like everyone lies about things they want people to think they think are important but the practical application of those.. things aren’t nearly as … rigidly enforced as they … let on.”

Pi kept her eyes closed, her head lolling to the side so her cheek rested against the plush fabric of the couch. It wasn’t that she wasn’t invested in the conversation so much as she didn’t want to argue, figured there was enough emotion broiling like a hot kettle about to whistle from the room beyond. She wasn’t an empathic sort like Elliot was, but even she could sense the roiling emotion about to blow with the slightest cause and while she wanted to make her point, she didn’t want to do so with a sledgehammer.

“Why did he kill him?” Pi asked, curious about what would make a man kill another. She could think of a couple reasons, especially where a woman as touchy ******* feely as Skylar, but it was better to ask than jump to conclusions.


<Lancaster d’Artois> “I don’t ******* know. Skylar said she didn’t ask. They were fighting,” Elliot said. He knew what Pi was going to say next. The way Elliot had reacted with Lex, and the way Pi had been with Skylar in the beginning. Vampires went overboard. They lost control when it came to their better halves. Jealousy drove them to extremes. But it didn’t matter. The point was, Elliot didn’t like Roderic and sure, he didn’t know the guy very well but the few times that they had met, the impression hadn’t been grand. And now it was even worse.

It sounded a hell of a lot like Pi was defending Roderic which only pissed Elliot off more. “I should have given him access then, is that what you’re saying? Just let them all in. All the people we don’t know. I said I would. He could have ******* access but she didn’t listen. She paid no attention to that bit. But maybe it was an excuse, you know? It’s such a small, stupid thing and she’s disowned me. She just needed a reason. At least it’s some kind of closure, unlike the rest of them,” he said. He roughly brushed the hair out of his eyes, which narrowed at the new pair of socks he’d wrangled. He tried to force himself to relax so that he could fold this pair properly.


<Pi d’Artois> “No, I think you were right to say no. Her tantrum wasn’t in line with our concerns and she went overboard.” Pi answered, her eyes opening as she sat up to stare at the door that he hadn’t come through yet. She felt like a priest in a confessional booth, with the muted sound of another’s voice reaching out to her from the room beyond. It was a faceless conversation. She wasn’t sure if she thought it was a good or not.

She could hear the frustration in this voice and stayed where she was. If he wanted her, he would come. She wondered if this distance helped them talk through it where face to face wouldn’t. “She’s… emotional.” Pi observed, straightening in her seat and tucking her feet under her so she could sit up straighter. “I’m not sure there was anything we could have said to make her happy… so, what is Roderic doing? You said he was… not making it better?”


<Lancaster d’Artois> “He emailed me and listed all the… **** it, just read them,” Elliot said. He stood and went to where he’d thrown his phone, somewhere in the middle of the bed. Pi would hear him muttering and cursing, along with the violent ruffling of the duvet until he finally found his phone. As he walked out of the room—still in his long polka-dotted flannelette pyjama pants and the plain, grey v-neck shirt—he was holding the phone, fingers swiping and tapping until he finally tossed the thing at Pi. He assumed she would catch it.

He ended up falling into the opposite corner of the couch, one food up on the cushion while the other sprawled out in front of him. His elbow rested on the arm of the chair. He meant to relax, to rest his head in his palm but it didn’t last long. He straightened his head, though his fingers kept fisting and unfisting. The underwear was still semi-scattered across the bedroom floor, half of it haphazardly folded and the other half still a mess.

“I know I should go and talk to her but I don’t ******* want to,” he said. He was aware he sounded like a child. Stubborn as ****. “If she can throw me—us—away so easily, after everything I’ve done and said? Why should I?” he asked. Subconsciously, he was hoping for a serious answer.

[Pi dArtois]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Pi d’Artois> Pi shrugged her eyes downcast as she read through what Elliot had given to her. She’d caught the phone, of course she’d caught it. She’d plucked it from its arc and proceeded to use her thumb to scroll the screen while adjusting her body to give him room to throw a leg up along the couch. “Yeah… I don’t know.” She answered, eyes still reading.

“He sent you a bullet pointed email.” Pi observed randomly, still reading. “A couple things…” Pi said finally… tossing phone back at him as she flipped a finger up. “One, didn’t you say he doesn’t even want to read our forum? Two, did he threaten to stab you? And three. He’s not getting onto the forum… not after that … passive aggressive… crap email.” Pi finished with a shrug.

Pi leaned back and stretched out her own legs, nudging his to the side to make room for herself. “I wonder if that will mean I’ll get an email too?” Pi wondered.


<Lancaster d’Artois> Elliot shifted his legs only enough so that they could both sit with their legs up on the couch, their limbs all tangled up together. He caught Pi’s foot and pulled off her shoe—he reached for the other foot to do the same.

“I threatened to stab him,” he said. “I told him that she should think about how she’s made us feel, too. And that she could do what she wanted. But if I ever found out that Roderic hurt her I’d kill him,” Elliot said, flatly. He tried not to grip Pi’s foot too tight, but he seemed to be calmer now, face to face with her.

“He did say he didn’t want to read our forum. In a way,” he said. He reached for the phone and scrolled until he found it: ”I`m not meeting with you because I want to join up with your band of care bears.”


<Pi d’Artois> Pi smiled, her grin widening at the last thing Elliot said. “I’m a carebear.” She said, her grin closing to a stretched smirk, keeping itself tightly under control. “Well… that’s an interesting comparison.” She observed.

Wiggling the foot he held Pi pushed against the fingers needing the base of her foot, enjoying the feel of this fingers and palms pressing into the soft skin in her arch. “So.. we don’t know why he killed Skylar’s best friend band guy… and then we get accused of being unreasonable to Skylars needs and somehow we have morphed into fluffy stuffed toys.”

It felt ridiculous. As if becoming a vampire meant they took the inane minutae of life and dissected it within an inch of its life and squeezed hidden meaning from stupidity. “I don’t know Elliot… Whatever is happening here, I’m not sure it’s really about you or I. I think it’s about Skylar and her… emotional state. Is she unbalanced you think?”


<Lancaster d’Artois> Elliot stared at Pi. At her distance, and the way she laughed. He wondered whether she would react the same if it were her own childe, and if Elliot had shrugged his shoulders and told her to deal with it. Would she care? Or would it roll off her shoulders, just like this was? Elliot continued to stare for a moment or two before he blinked and shrugged.

“No more unbalanced than any other Allurist,” he said. He himself had moments of going off the rails for things that others didn’t quite understand. Like right now. The fact that Skylar had so quickly fallen for and married someone who Elliot still didn’t think was marriage material, and the fact that she’d known that person for less time than she had known Elliot and had decided to choose him over her own sire?

“It might be nice if she could be reasonable, yeah. I never made her choose and would never make her choose but she’s done that on her own without trying to sit down and figure out an ultimatum,” he said. Maybe people had a point. She looked young, Skylar, for her actual age. And maybe because so many people assumed she was young, she decided to act it, too. Elliot continued to massage the arch of Pi’s foot, and regardless of how he was feeling, he smiled.

There was a reason he had fallen for Pi in the end, wasn’t there? And it was this. The way she made big things seem small. Or, things that seemed big to Elliot—she brought them down to size.


<Pi d’Artois> She relaxed into the couch, her head falling back to rest against the arm, her body losing tension to fold comfortably against the cushions. They were a balance, her and Elliot. They were too different to see things from the same perspective often. When he was emotional, she was calm. When she was about to lose her mind over something, he’d be there arguing against a flood of bloodshed.

Pi snuck a lowered lash glimpse at Elliot and huffed. “Damn allurists.” She muttered, nudging his thigh with her heel, her smile still in place, smaller, a smirk. “Yeah, it would be nice if she was… no one made her choose. But she tossed her toys out of the cot anyway. Have you talked to her? … after the letter?”


<Lancaster d’Artois> Bloody Allurists, indeed. Elliot figured each path had its downfalls, though. He wouldn’t complain about his lot because each of them, every vampire around them, had their own complaints. And they all probably hated Allurists their humanity, maybe. Their ability to eat and drink and taste. To charm their way out of sticky situations. Those were the perks. Elliot sighed. This was the downfall. Feeling like some piece of **** when perhaps he shouldn’t.

He shook his head. “I haven’t,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders as he stared at the bottom of Pi’s foot. His hair had fallen over his eyes and he made no move to shift it out of the way. “I kind of thought I could fix things with Roderic, maybe, and then talk to her when there was a solution. But there is no solution and she made her choice and this family isn’t it. So why should I grovel?” Elliot said, finally looking up at Pi. It was as simple as that, in Elliot’s current mood. A discarded piece of rubbish doesn’t seek to return to its owner, does it?

<Pi d’Artois> Pi heard the word grovel and arched her eyebrow lazily in his direction. They’d been here before, in different ways, for different reasons about other members of their family. It was a benefit and downside of being a part of any ‘family’ (in the very broadest definition of the word). People were masters of their own futures, and those plans and rationales didn’t always sit well with those around them.

Like now, with Skylar. She had obviously decided how she wanted her world to be, and was going to be unreasonable about it. “I’m no sure talking adult to adult is groveling … maybe, when you’ve all calmed down, it might be a good idea to try… and sort it out. Somehow.” This time when she finished her eyes were wide open and staring at him and his floppy hair she was dying to push away from his eyes. “In a way that doesn’t result in you not commenting on our family Crow, would be preferred please.”


<Lancaster d’Artois> The breath rushed from Elliot’s lungs as he finally relaxed into the couch. This was what he needed. He should have called Pi to begin with. It should have been the first thing he did, rather than rage at the drawer and the clothes inside of it. The inanimate objects didn’t deserve his rage. Nor did the animate ones. Sitting to talk, adult to adult. Pi was right. He’d lost his reason and he was being stupidly stubborn. He pulled in a breath that he did not need, his long fingers rested upon her shin.

He offered a small smirk to Pi. “I don’t comment much as it is,” he said. He had small spurts of activity, really. In the end he much preferred face to face communication; he hated the pettiness that could result from online interaction. He hated who he himself could become with just a keyboard for a weapon. He didn’t like stooping to the pettiness he’d stooped to in the past.

“What kind of solution would you recommend? She won’t be happy until Roderic has access. Roderic doesn’t bloody want it. And I don’t want him there. She’s… probably upset that I haven’t welcomed Roderic with open arms and that’s what I should fix but how the hell can I?”


<Pi d’Artois> Pi thought about it, about what a compromise would look like and whether it was something she could live with (especially after the email she’d read). In a way, any compromise that resulted in a Roderic being given access would be giving into a tantrum, and that didn’t seem like a good idea.

The alternative really, was that Elliot and Roderic work together to help Skylar see the specifics of exactly what Elliot had just said. Elliot didn’t feel comfortable with Roderic being there and Roderic didn’t want to be there. The mitigating circumstance of the situation was Skylar’s insistence that he is.

“It’s Skylar.” Pi finally said. “She wants what she wants… and despite neither of you wanting it, she’s… decided that is has to be. That, is the core issue. Is there a way you and Roderic can help her see… reason?”


<Lancaster d’Artois> Elliot rolled his head on his shoulders. He glared at the phone that he had dropped to the ground and which he had not touched since he had read the carebear quote to Pi. The last thing he really wanted to do was initiate another conversation with that prick. He narrowed his eyes at the offending device before turning back to Pi.

“I get the distinct impression that it’s not just about that anymore. Like… it started as Skylar wanting Roderic to have access but you saw what he said last. Something about… making her feel some way. Like there’s something in what I’ve done that’s offended her far more than my denial of letting her husband have access to a stupid ******* forum,” Elliot said. It was hard to keep the anger at bay.

“But that asshole won’t tell me what that is. I’m supposed to …” he stopped and cringed and coughed. Obviously he’d just been about to try to speak a lie. “…go and talk to her and figure out what the problem is,” he said. Far less climactic than he had intended.


<Pi d’Artois> “Oh. I guess you’re right.. his email was… unhelpful.” Pi replied. That didn’t sound like fun at all. She could imagine the hysterics that would ensue with that little piece of dramatic staging. Skylar, the star crossed lover whose Montague parents were opposed to her Hatfield lover. Yes, she could just imagine the silent treatment, followed by the begrudging dialogue, which would quickly escalate into accusation and tears.

“I don’t envy you that conversation.” And she didn’t. Not at all. Her drama with Robert and then Ivy, and those smaller altercations with Asteria were enough to cure Pi of any wish to get in the middle of it, even, in this way she was obviously smack dab in the swirl of potential fallout. “But it will have to happen… soon.”

She was sure it wasn’t what Elliot wanted to hear, or wanted to do. She couldn’t blame him for any reticence he felt about it, but she was being pragmatic about it. He would eventually, have to bit that bullet. The best she could do, was acknowledge it and help him work through what that might look like.


<Lancaster d’Artois> Elliot shuffled down on the couch so that his legs were more sprawled than before. His foot ended up somewhere near Pi’s shoulder. The giraffe that he was, he never really did fit anywhere properly. Or comfortably. But he could at least just lounge here for a few more minutes. Or an hour. Or whatever. Maybe one more night. One more night couldn’t hurt in the grand scheme of things, right? They both needed time to cool down, as Pi had said, and there couldn’t be any harm in waiting just a little bit longer.

Eventually Elliot knew that he would deal with it and he would do his best to fix it. Otherwise he’d be in a mood every night, with this thing hanging over their heads. Or, he would never see Skylar again and he wasn’t too sure whether that was an outcome he was happy with. As much as he would love to see the girl walk through the doors of the bar with that sheepish look on her face, telling him that she had overreacted. And he could tell her the same. And then they could laugh it off and it would all be grand. Wishful thinking, really.

By now Elliot’s skin had healed and none of the sun’s burn was evident there. He shouldn’t have even checked his emails when feeling so damned sorry for himself because it hadn’t helped matters much. It hadn’t helped matters at all. “Yeah soon. Not tonight though. I’m just going to stay here for a bit,” he said. He wasn’t expected anywhere. Not really. There were no empty holes in any of the rosters that he had to fill. There were things that had to be done, of course, but they could wait a while.

“What have you been up to?” A nice change in subject might help his mood along a little.

[Pi dArtois]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Pi d’Artois> Pi sat at the Crafting table, gun parts strewn from one end to the other triggers, barrels, stocks and other odds and ends she needed to put her weapons together. On the other end sat the items Cartis gave her, which she switched to when she needed a break from attempting to make the parts she had fit the vision in her head. She was dressed in old jeans, her white tank skimming across her skin under the heavy and unattractive work apron. Her hair, tucked behind her ears still managed to fall into her eyes as she bent over her work.

‹Cartis› Cartis strolled casually into the den, hands in his jeans pockets, quietly whistling a random tune to himself. After having glanced around the place for a couple of minutes he spotted Pi at the Crafting table and headed over to the table silently to watch her work. It was hardly the first time he had watched Pi work on something, but this time he did not do it from the Shadows as per usual. His lips twitched into a little smile as he noticed the unfinished merchandise he had dropped off earlier that evening.

<Pi d’Artois> She ‘felt’ his presence before she noted the body beside and a little behind her left shoulder. Pi was used to seeing Cartis and having no more than nodding interaction with the man. She’d always referred to him as her Shadow Childe and had become used to his infrequent appearances, silent and brief, to drop off items to her. She always knew what he wanted. Sometimes she picked up what he gave her right away and made a few for him while he wanted, dropping ten or fifteen to him right away and letting him know she’d have more later. He’d never spoken, never more than a silent nod (at the very most) invariably less. Outside of these interactions, she knew nothing of what he did, where he did it or where he stayed outside of those moments. “There are ten.” Pi said absently, picking up a small bag of items to hand to him. “I’ll have more later.” She finished, not even stopping what she was doing.

‹Cartis› He removed the hands out of his black jeans pockets, tugged slightly at his white tshirt to set it straight. Cartis felt rather nervous as he had never spoken a word to Pi in the past. She had always treated him fairly however so he shrugged and thought to himself "here goes nothing." He then proceeded to walk around the table to face Pi, grinned and murmured "Thank you". Cartis grabbed the items, and stared at Pi expectantly.

<Pi d’Artois> Pi blinked, staring at the parts in her hands as if her mind had halted, frozen in a state of shock before motion returned in a rush. Her slim fingers dropped the parts she held tenderly and she spun in a circle, her heavy apron snagging on a stock, making it fall to the floor breaking the pin drop silence. “****!” She swore, ignoring the mess she’d made, or the part she’d just dented. “I ….” She stuttered, knowing she was making a right hash of it. “Did you just … I had no idea you could speak!” She said, the statement a near accusation … but tinged with shock (and maybe a little pleasure too).

‹Cartis› Cartis beamed at Pi, chuckled and chided her, in a thick Scandinavian sounding accent: "Tsk tsk, you should not be such a clutz. Of course I can speak, I just never had a good reason to say anything prior to this moment." His voice sounded hoarse after not having used it for more than a word or two in the past couple of years. So he cleared his throat and continued slowly "You have always been fair to me so I figured I might as well say thank you once in a while. Besides, I do want to get to know my family a bit better."

<Pi d’Artois> From thank you to full sentences and yet Pi had a hard time reconciling the man to the voice to the words to the actions. Despite how endearing the words were and how much she loved hearing them, the fact she was hearing them at all seemed to get in the way of her comprehension. That and she couldn’t keep her eyes from roving over his face (and the rest). He’d lived in her peripheral for years. A dark shadow on the edge of her sight, there but not really, not wholly, not like this. He was a tall man, shorter than Elliot but certainly taller than she was. He wore his hair long, past his shoulders, in a wash of black, straight and leech of any colour but ink. With his pale skin and piercing jade stare he suited what he was, a Shadow, as if his path had chosen him, or him the path because his exterior semblance demanded it to be so. “I..” Pi took a deep (and wholly redundant) breathe in order to steady jumpy nerves. “I’d like that.. for you to get to know us better too… you’ve been a part of us for so long, it would be nice I think… for us to really know you too.”

[Cartis]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

‹Cartis› Standing with his arms now crossed (he often did that when he was thoughtful), he studied Pi's face and felt a surge of delight and strangely triumph. This was precisely the reaction he had hoped for. Previously to speaking up Cartis had felt a bit worried that Pi was going to flip the switch and grow hostile towards him. After all, he had not been studying how she acted around the family much. So he had very little knowledge of her personality, other than that she seemed kind towards family. Considering that he had not really felt like a proper part of the D'Artois family until recently, he felt delighted at the prospect of finally getting to know "Momma Pi". "Momma Pi" was Cartis private endearing name for Pi, why he thought of her that way, he was not quite certain of yet but, hoped to find out more about that in the future. Still smiling he murmured "I am eternally grateful that you feel that way, Momma Pi. Thank you for all you have done for me in the past and thank you for everything that you will assist me with in the future.

<Pi d’Artois> Momma Pi. The smile that had been waiting to bloom, did so then. A small unfolding as her features stretched and teeth flashed and the expression dawned until she couldn’t help but reach out and touch the man. The endearment made her heart warm and the vague purpose she held grew too. She hadn’t thought he would think of her in those terms, not when you considered their silent relationship over the last three years. But even for her she relied on that silent presence to always be there, her personal shadow, that she drew comfort from despite the fact they didn’t speak. Now words tumbled forth and it felt as if all those years of silence were more than enough payment for what was being said now. Her finger found a spot, the hand which held the bag of items she’d made for him. “And thank you… for right now. I didn’t know how much I missed your voice, until I heard it for the first time.” She answered, her smile still firmly in place.

‹Cartis› Cartis felt his heart swell with joy as he heard the compliment, his smile was slowly turning into a goofy grin, he did not care one bit. At long last it felt as if he had found his home. Granted, he had places to live and sleep in all over the city but his heart was never in it. They were just places to sleep or hide in, plain and simple. Now he had a family, or at least one person that he could rely on, not that he liked relying on people much, being a Shadow made him more of a lone wolf than anything else. That came with the territory he supposed. Hesitantly he unfolded his arms, opened them wide and indicated with his head that Pi should move closer to him so he could embrace his family for the first time. Cartis opened his mouth to speak, but out came a stutter of "Uh... Umm, if you do not mind I.. I would like to give you a hug. After having heard himself stutter he felt embarrassment wash over him, his cheeks coloured slightly but he tried covering it up with a sheepish smile.

<Pi d’Artois> Without a word Pi stepped into his outstretched arms, her own fitting comfortably around his waist to overlap one another at the base of his spine. She was smaller than he was, her head fitting into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Turning her face so her cheek laid against his soft shirt she let her smile linger against the material. For the moment she had no further words. It seemed to her that this was worth the four years it had taken for him to speak to her and the four years of time it took for her to look beyond the shadow to the man beneath. There were no words necessary, not especially since they had gotten so good at communicating without them. So she didn’t. For right now. Right now she was only glad he’d spoken at all, and that he felt the same close affection she did. Pi stood in his arms in silence. “I’ve missed you Cartis.” She said softly, as if he was a friend who had finally come home, or a loved one gone too long.

‹Cartis› As Pi stepped into his arms Cartis let out his breath, huh, Curious. He had not realized that he was holding it. Now, he sighed contently. He reluctantly let go of the embrace after having held on to it a few moments longer than was deemed appropriate when one was hugging their relative, taking a step back and raised a questioning eyebrow as if to say “Well, then what now?”. Speaking quietly he said “Thank you once again for the merchandise, now I have some other business to attend to. But I will see you around.” He then smirked mysteriously at Pi, stepped into the Shadow and half strutted(!) towards one of the many portals in the Den. Halfway there he stopped for a moment: “Me, strutting?! Get a grip on yourself you fool.” Shaking his head bemusedly he moved on and walked through the Portal leading to his place of business.

<Pi d’Artois> Pi’s arms dropped from around his waist and she watched Cartis leave in silence. It was amazing to her how much something could change in a single moment. She had thought this night would have been much like any other. This exchange much like ones they’d had many times before. Except it hadn’t been like all the others. An axis had shifted under her and she could only stare at the place he’d been in thoughtful silence considering what this could mean for her, for Cartis too no doubt but also their little family. If, after four years, a change like this could be wrought, what then was the potential for any other she had turned, who had also remained silent over the years. Anything was possible, the potential a kernel that could grow into something else. With a small smile she turned back to her crafting table and the weapons part that lay there and for a moment longer she stared at them as she played through her time with Cartis once more. With her smile in place she picked up the small parts again, fitting them together. Yes, something had shifted… it was now only a matter of time to see what else would come because of it.

[Lancaster]

<Pi d’Artois> Pi knew she should have spoken to him earlier, long before now. But the days turned into weeks and then a month passed before she realised it had gone. Here they sat six weeks apart and she still hadn’t spoken to Elliot about what was going on. Not that she fully understood the situation any clearer now than she did when she left. But he deserved more than she’d given him. The assumption she’d made that it was easier to leave while he was still in the Shadow Realm had been an erroneous one. The belief that she’d be back before he was out was more fantasy on her part. The fact she’d compounded the problem by radio silence hadn’t exactly been a tick in her ‘good wife’ box.

Gnawing on her lower lip Pi made the call she had put off long enough. When it started to ring she almost hung up, her hand clenching the receiver against her ear. But it was ridiculous really. How often had Elliot told her that this penchant she had for uninformative silence was unappreciated. Her self imposed isolation wasn’t conducive to a long term relationship and it really didn’t matter how good her intentions.

Now if she could only explain those intentions to, what she can only guess was a very very pissed off Elliot.


<Lancaster d’Artois> What had started the night before as a hangover (at least, Elliot had hoped it was just a hangover) had turned into a raging flu. Or maybe it was something else – but he scolded himself every time he complained about it. This was what it was like to be human, wasn’t it? He couldn’t wish for all the good things and hate all the bad. He had to wish for all of it back – so he tried to at least enjoy it. Feeling human. Even if he hadn’t enough tissues for all the snot that he blew from his sinuses. How could they possibly produce so much?!

His head felt heavy with the blocked passageways, his eyes red, while an unfamiliar craving for blood ravaged his senses. As if it was the one thing that could cure him. But he reminded himself that he didn’t need it. He had the armlet. He would live. By god, he would live.

When the phone rang, it wasn’t a number he recognised. It flashed across his phone as ‘private’, which didn’t mean much. It may have been a telemarketer, or it could have been one of the overseas suppliers. To get the good alcohol that he had, Lancaster sourced far and wide. He liked to get the good stuff from Australia – just so it felt more like home. He had given up thinking that it could be Pi, and the thought hardly crossed his mind as he picked it up and answered, his voice off-kilter and clogged due to his blocked nose. “Hello, this is Lancaster,” he mumbled – sounding none too happy, but at least amenable.


<Pi d’Artois> "Elliot" Pi said softly, her voice softening just at the sound of his. He sounded like he'd just woken up, a little gruff, a touch groggy. She could almost imagine his annoyed expression and wondered again why the hell she was sitting in a tiny apartment on the other side of the damn world.


<Lancaster d’Artois> The world fell away, everything centered on the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. So far away, and yet right beside him. For a long time, he was silent; muffled sounds heard as he dropped into the nearby chair. "I assume Michael talked to you, then."

[Pi dArtois]

<Pi d’Artois> "Oui. I miss you." It was stupid really, to say something so inherently ineffectual. But it was the truth of it. Curling her feet under her she tucked her toes under her butt, relaxing her body into the aged couch behind her. "I'm sorry... "


<Lancaster d’Artois> "You..." he let out a heavy breath of air, the world came crashing back in. "Where the **** did you go, Pi? Where are you? Why? Why call now, now? I had to learn that you were okay from Michael, y'know, because at least you kept him in the ******* loop. Are you okay?!"


<Pi d’Artois> Pi winced, her free hand coming up to massage the tension sitting in between the eyes she'd just closed. "I know... I thought I would be back. I thought I could do this on my own, and get home.... ... I'm in Paris. It's complicated Elliot...."


<Lancaster d’Artois> "Complicated? Did you know I couldn't get out? That ******* place. Death. I was gone two weeks, Pi. More? It was Skylar's voice that lured me out. Skylar's. Not yours. What's so complicated that you had to leave immediately? And if you can't do it on your own, why haven't you called?!"


<Pi d’Artois> Pi's head spun to the door of her small apartment, her eyes narrowing as the landing creaked. "I love you. I know I left you there. I'm so sorry. They don't know what I am. I knew if I called, you'd come... even if I told you not to. I'm nearly out... and then I'll be home. And I'll never have to leave again. "


<Lancaster d’Artois> "They? Who? What do you mean? I do want to come, Pi. I can help you. Where are you exactly?" he asked. He was on his feet, already wandering through to where he kept his storage, looking for his old backpack. The one that had lasted him years and across several continents. He'd pack right now, and he'd go...


<Pi d’Artois> "Don't... " Standing Pi walked quickly to the window, opening it but pushing the ancient surround outwards, the sounds of late evening vehicles traversing the streets only three floors below. "Please. You'll help me by staying there. I won't be long. I promise." Turning towards the door, as Pi lied, knowing that the likelihood of soon was hugely unlikely. "I have to go. God, I'm so sorry Elliot." And with that she hung up, tearing the phone apart, keeping the SiM and throwing the parts out the window. She was sitting back on the couch, flicking negligently through TV channels, as the front door opened. She swallowed the SIM she'd placed in her mouth and turned a sharp suspicious look at the woman who entered.


<Lancaster d’Artois> “I don’t want to stay here…!” he shouted – he was going to continue, but instead he became one of those idiots who kept yelling into the phone even though there was a dial tone in his ear. Radio silence. "Pi. Papillon!" But of course there was no answer. He growled as he tossed the phone aside. As, with a vicious fervour, he packed. He started to, anyway, until logic caught up with him. He could go to Paris. That was the easy part. But what then? He had nothing to go on. He couldn't track. He would have no idea. In the end, the bag remained half packed; Lancaster curled up in the closet, his head in his hands. It was almost enough to drive him back to drink.