morebooks (morebooks) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-10-06 16:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | adrien green, eleri lloyd, merrick |
Who: Adrien Green, Eleri Lloyd, Merrick, Wilhelm(NPC)
What: A heist
Where: The Institute
When: 6th October, 1888
Rating: PG-13 (various bodily fluids, acts of violence)
The day Adrien decided to steal a djinn was like any other, really -- with a few key differences.
First, he’d told Kaya before he’d left for work that just in case something were to happen, and he didn’t come back when expected, he wanted her to give his notes (and his notebook of Wilhelm’s movements) over to Mac.
He was, after all, doing something that would be seen as rather monstrous, and no doubt illegal -- should he be caught, those at the Institute would be well within their rights to arrest him, but given the callousness with which they’d treated Merrick, he feared there could be worse fates than ending up in a prison cell that they’d be all too willing to submit him to. Willing, and (he suspected) quite able.
There was also a letter for her, providing access to his bank account (among a few other things), but he didn’t want to worry her any more than he had to already. So he’d told her that her delivery to Mac was in case he’d gotten into a tight spot, in which case, Mac could help him get out of it, and he left the letter for her in the pile for Mac, with instructions for him to give it to her should it be evident that he wasn’t coming back.
She hadn’t believed him -- he could tell by the way she looked at him -- but she’d nodded and they’d left it at that.
Second, he’d put a small carefully printed slip of paper with the wording of the wish and a pair of syringes in his pockets, carefully wrapped in cotton so they wouldn’t clink together, and stoppered with a cork, each filled with a dose of his blood.
In his trials with Mary, he’d discovered that feeding helped, but that infusing his own blood in return further bent her to his will -- and he’d need every single tool at his disposal to convince Wilhelm to reveal such a precious secret.
So with those two additions in place, and the silver coin Lord Ravensworth had given him in his breast pocket both for luck (it was somewhat ridiculous, but it did make him feel more centered), and to provide a piece of evidence as to his identity should that prove necessary (he was a realist after all), Adrien Green squared his shoulders and walked into his office, determined to treat it all like every other day.
Until eleven, that is.
There was something… not right. Adrien had turned up on time, had come into the office like every other morning, had sat down at his desk like every other morning… He was dressed normally, and wasn’t bleeding, or limping, or bruised in any visible way.
Still, there was something very not right. It struck Eleri as soon as her boss walked into the room, like a troubling itch deep inside her ears and deep at the back of her throat that made her wince. She stuck a finger in her ear, trying to scratch it, but that didn’t work, and frantically rubbing her tongue against the back of her throat did nothing either - except produce a noise that made even Eleri wince. Like a dog, she shook her head, trying once more to rid herself of the dreadful sensation. Then she pushed with her mind.
She didn’t do this often. The toll it took on her was serious enough that she saved this particular piece of magic for when it was really, really needed. Closing her eyes (and trying to resist the urge to claw at her throat) she hummed softly, pushing her consciousness across the room towards Adrien. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get in his mind and she didn’t want to. She did, however, get close enough to feel the tension and foreboding he was feeling. Something was wrong.
Eleri gently pulled her consciousness back into her own mind, her eyelids fluttering slightly as she came back to herself. She swayed a little on her feet as the inevitable sudden fatigue swept over her, but at least the terrible itching was subsiding, most likely because she had confirmed what it was trying to tell her.
Eleri reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a sheaf of papers, and a pouch of herbs. If Adrien asked, she would tell him she was simply seeing to the damp, as she periodically did.
Adrien went through his morning correspondence a little more slowly than usual, sipping absently at his morning cup of tea as he did so -- his air of distraction made him more wary of committing mistakes, so it took him a few more passes to adequately read and answer letters than it usually did.
One of the letters was from a scholar in Scotland who was hoping to schedule a visit to London in the next few months with the express purpose of looking at the scrolls his assistant had been working so steadily on these last few weeks, and he walked over to Eleri after he’d finished his reply.
“There will be a visiting scholar from Scotland to view the scrolls, Miss Lloyd,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “He’s planning on being by early next month, and will stay a few days. I’m sure your transcription done to that point will be more than adequate for his purposes,” he added, “you needn’t feel as though it must be completed entirely by then.”
Eleri blinked rapidly as she looked up at Adrien. “Scholar?” she repeated blankly. “Adequate?” She huffed out a breath. Her mind had been a thousand miles away, and the synapses she’d managed to get firing at his approach were unfortunately nowhere near her language center. “Rydych chi'n ei wneud eto. Rydych chi'n gwybod na allaf eich deall pan fyddwch chi'n defnyddio'r geiriau mawr hynny.”
Welsh, that she understood. That she could speak. That, her mind was much more clearly on, even if the Welsh of the scrolls was archaic and kind of difficult to read. It was still easier to comprehend than English, and frankly, what Eleri’s mind had tasted when she had pushed toward him made her think that concentrating on the scrolls was by far the better course of action today than remembering her stupid, inadequate English.
“Speak small,” she finished, nodding assertively (and ignoring the brewing headache from her earlier exertions). “And slow. Today I am not fast… here.” She tapped the side of her head, and tried to surreptitiously slide the papers under another, larger (and far more innocuous) piece of work.
Adrien frowned.
“A man,” he said, slowly and clearly, “will be coming to look at the scrolls. In three weeks.” He held up his hand to indicate the number. “If you are…” he tapped the side of his head, “...not fast today, do not strain yourself. No scrolls today,” he said, holding up a finger. “Eat,” he added for good measure.
Well, that was better.
“Three weeks,” she repeated, then nodded, smiling brightly. “That’s okay. I am…” she waved one hand for emphasis, her smile widening at the fern frond that gently wrapped itself around her index finger as if following the motion, conjured out of nothing. Headache or no, she still had a handle on her magic. “I am stop before. Before now. I do all.” She smiled winningly at him. “Today, other work. Today I do work I leave, because scrolls. And today,” she lowered her voice, as if imparting a great secret, and leaned in playfully.
“Today, steak and kidney pie,” she enunciated triumphantly. That was one she’d learned on the way into work, both what it was and how to say it, and she was unreasonably delighted with both of those pieces of information.
“Good,” Adrien replied, nodding shortly. “I’m glad to hear you’ve finished. I’ll review your work…” he paused. “I’ll review it later,” he said, his frown deepening. “Well, then,” he said, clearing his throat, and patting his pocket that contained his pocket watch. “Back to it. Enjoy your steak and kidney pie, Miss Lloyd.”
He pulled out his watch to check it as he sat.
Ten-thirty.
He filed paper for another twenty-five minutes, and then, at five til the hour, placed some of the files and a book into a neat stack and slipped them under his arm, and left his desk, striding with purpose from the room.
If he’d had a living heart, it would be beating furiously.
Adrien knew from his rather extensive notes that Doctor Wilhelm’s morning tended to be spent in isolation, in his offices, and his afternoons were usually in areas of the Institute decidedly off-limits to someone of Adrien’s job description, and therefore, far riskier to attempt to navigate on his own.
But Wilhelm got thirsty for his first cuppa between five after eleven and eleven thirty fairly regularly, and if Adrien missed that window, there was another a little after two-thirty and three that would be manageable.
His first pass by the tea-station was unsuccessful, and he didn’t want to hover awkwardly for too long, so he kept walking with a definitive stride past it, and after a few minutes, pretended as if he’d forgotten something and turned back, and then stood indecisively at the tea trolley to kill a little time before fetching a tea and laboriously doctoring it with both cream and sugar (which he never tended to do, but circumstances did call for him to linger), and then sipping at the sickly sweet concoction as if the temperature were too hot (which it wasn’t), and as if he weren’t in a particular rush to get back to work (which he wasn’t -- at least that part didn’t need to be embellished).
Eleri waited until the door closed behind Adrien and shoved the piece of paper aside, revealing her transcription of the scrolls. By her estimation, the scrolls had dealt with some very old, very powerful protection magic, and her small taste of what Adrien was feeling had helped her decide, today was the day to use them.
She pushed the desks back against the wall and carefully laid out the requisite herbs in the prescribed pattern, seating herself in the middle of them. With a small ceremonial knife, she slashed her palm lightly, squeezing several drops of her own, Fae blood into the circle.
Wilhelm turned up a minute before half-past, got his tea (with a customary three sugars), performed his typical conversational attempts that appeared to be his best efforts to flirt with the tea girl, and then walked back towards his offices.
Adrien followed behind him.
He’d mapped the route carefully in the weeks leading up to today. Wilhelm was in a suite of offices it’d be difficult to come and go from unnoticed, and his secretary was a sharpish older lady who didn’t miss a detail, and today, Adrien needed very badly to Not Be Noticed.
His best shot was to waylay him in a supply room along the way, and pray that no-one desperately needed solvent during the limited window he had. Barring that, there was a broom closet.
Another man in a lab coat walked towards them, and then turned into the supply room ahead of them, and Adrien winced. Broom closet it was.
It took a significant gathering of will, as this next part would be unpleasant for all parties, and cut against a great deal of the principles to which Adrien held himself. But it had to be done, and Wilhelm was no innocent in all of this.
Besides. Once it was all said and done, if it worked, the man would have no memory of any of it.
Cold comfort indeed.
At least it was significantly better than the alternative -- before he and Merrick had stumbled into their current iteration of their plan, Adrien had anticipated he might need to kill him, or stuff him, memory wiped, onto an airship bound for Australia. So he supposed the man’s fate could be decidedly worse.
Eleri’s eyes rolled back in her head as her sweet, melodic voice began to sing. She swayed back and forth, chanting the ancient words she had found contained within the scrolls.
Adrien screwed his courage to the sticking-place as they drew closer to the broom closet, a million thoughts rattling around in his head -- would another scientist come down the hall? Would Wilhelm make too much noise? Would he be able to do what must be done?
It was now or never.
In a surge of sudden sureness, he darted, quick as he could (which was fast) to clap a hand round Wilhelm’s mouth, dragging him back into the broom closet.
He fumbled a little with the door handle for a heart-stopping second (if he had a heart), but it turned and the broom closet swallowed them both up, Wilhelm twisting in his arms in surprise as the door shut behind them.
He pushed Wilhelm back against the door with an elbow -- all the better to keep it shut -- and his other hand stayed firmly over the man’s mouth. He could feel his hot breath shooting from his nostrils, see the whites of his eyes, smell the stink of sudden fear on him, and despite the fact that he loathed the sudden burst of adrenaline he felt, feared it, even, his teeth slid oh-so-easily into the madly beating vein in the man’s neck, and he drank as Wilhelm scrabbled against his arm.
It took an effort to break off, a considerable one seeing how keyed up he was, but he managed with a twist of will to leave off before he’d gone too far (thank God), and stared into Wilhelm’s eyes, gathering his intent.
“George Mathes Wilhelm,” he said, trying to keep the shake out of his voice, “you will take me to the vessel.”
Wilhelm’s eyes were slightly glassy, a look he was now used to after his training sessions with Mary (Mary, touch your nose flitted into his head unbidden, and he did his best to re-center, to re-gather, to concentrate).
Adrien’s voice lowered and stretched. “George Mathes Wilhelm,” he repeated, and Wilhelm’s eyes focused on his then, and Adrien had him for a second, but it slipped, and Wilhelm twisted against his elbow, wild-eyed and frantic, and tried to bite at his hand. He knew what Adrien wanted, and fought it, hard.
Adrien swore, and managed (somehow) to grab one of the syringes from his pocket and jam it into Wilhelm’s neck, and once he’d depressed the plunger, exhaled shakily, and began the whole damn thing again -- the slow gathering of will and intent, locking eyes with the scientist. He was angry as hell -- Adrien could see it -- because it meant he was staring daggers back.
At least that meant sustained eye contact.
“George Mathes Wilhelm,” Adrien repeated, “You will take me to the vessel.”
Eleri shuddered violently, but kept going. Her voice rose, still sweet but more insistent now, her eyes still unseeing but her hands reaching for the pouch and pulling out still more herbs. These she held in her outstretched, still slightly bleeding palm and willed them to burst into flames.
They caught, but not without even more of her own energy poured into the effort. The fire blazing on her palms didn’t bother her at all, but she felt a stab of pain between her eyes, and for the first time, her voice faltered. Still, she didn’t stop. The aromatic smoke from the burning herbs barely pierced her consciousness.
Some small part of her brain realized, with a small jolt of panic, that it wasn’t sheer force of will keeping her going. The magic had her now, and the magic would hold her until it, the magic, was done with her, and not a moment sooner.
Wilhelm shivered, then, and blinked, and after what seemed like an eternity, nodded.
Adrien slowly lowered his hand, his fingers having left red marks on the man’s cheek with the force with which he’d held his mouth shut, keeping his eyes locked on Wilhelm’s.
“Now,” Adrien said, his voice low and insistent, putting every inch of the effort he’d made to plan this, the sacrifices he was willing to make, his promise to Merrick, and his long-dormant vow to the parents and sister he couldn’t free behind it.
The walk to the vessel was a fraught one -- he expected at any second for Wilhelm to break, and kept his hand in his pocket with the second syringe just in case, his eyes keeping steady on the man as they walked down the hall.
The first time they encountered a fellow person in the hall, Wilhelm’s walk stuttered a little, but he kept his eyes forward and didn’t call out to his colleague (which was a blessed relief), and the subsequent handful of encounters were likewise uneventful.
They were in a part of the building Adrien was unfamiliar with, and he did his best to keep track of the twists and turns as they went down a few different stairwells, the damp of the basement level a moldy tang in his nostrils.
Every door they passed, Wilhelm had a key for, until they came across a doorway that had a posted guard.
The guard looked over to Adrien, and raised an eyebrow. “He ain’t on the list,” he said, in a low gruff.
“Archives,” Adrien replied. “Special work request.”
The guard looked over to Wilhelm.
The silence stretched on a beat longer than it should’ve.
Wilhelm nodded. “Archives,” he repeated with a shrug.
The guard raised an eyebrow, but the door was opened, and Adrien did his best to hone his attention on the task at hand -- the vessel, take me to the vessel -- and not look about. The rest could wait.
As they walked down a narrow corridor (how many shelves with glass doors did this place have? Focus, goddamn it, Green), Wilhelm’s steps slowed, and Adrien’s fingers clenched around the syringe in his pocket.
Wilhelm stood, swaying, in front of a small safe, and reached for the dial, and began turning it.
The safe door swung open, and, there, nested within a bed of straw, was a small, rudely made clay vessel, delicate as an eggshell and old as the ages, and as Adrien reached for it, Wilhelm cried out, a guttural, ripping call of desperation, and he grappled fiercely to slam the safe shut --
Eleri’s voice reached a fever pitch. A force from outside her own body picked her up, until she was suspended in the air above her circle, eyes still wide and unseeing. Her brow was furrowed with pain and effort, her face dripping with sweat. Though the tips of her toes were mere inches above the floor, it could have been miles for all she knew of what was happening to her.
Bound to this task until its completion one way or another, Eleri sang on.
Her unhealed palm continued to slowly drip blood into the circle.
-- but Adrien was faster, and his fingers closed gently around the vessel as he pulled it out right before the safe closed with a clang, and then cradled it against his chest.
Merrick was curled up in that high-back mahogany chair in their cell. But the djinn had turned it around to face his living arrangements since the experiment four days ago. They still hoped for Adrien’s plan, but their mind state was clouded and closed off. Then they felt something. It had become easier to slow things down to examine that feeling before disappearing from his current location and reappearing a step beside the vampire.
Wearing dark trousers and black button down shirt untucked and hanging loose from their body and nothing covering their feet, Merrick blinked at Adrien and then glared at Wilhelm. Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds before returning to Adrien and that hand cradling their vessel to his chest, a flicker of darkness in their dark brown irises.
“Hello Adrien,” Merrick grinned wolfishly. “Shall I keep the rule lecture til later?” It felt freeing even now not to be under Wilhelm’s thumb, to see him manhandled.
“Please,” Adrien nodded shortly, and Adrien could see Wilhelm coiling himself yet again.
He showed his fangs.
“I’ve gotten what I’ve come for,” he said clearly and precisely. “If you value your life, you will cease.”
That snipped the strings, and Wilhelm crumpled and clutched at his head, murmuring “This can’t be happening” in a low, broken sound.
“I was thinking,” Adrien said, calmly enough, pulling the written wish from his pockets, “that I might modify some to have a copy of the records before erasing them. For evidence,” he added, raising an eyebrow. “Might that be acceptable?”
The djinn silently observed Adrien and Wilhelm with amusement. Adrien’s showing his fangs fascinated them.
“It is happening,” Merrick whispered with a hiss. But they did not move from their spot.
“Hmm,” Merrick hummed, their dark tone turning on a dime to pleasantness as they listened. “Yes, that will be acceptable.”
Wilhelm’s eyes sharpened through his misery. “Are you… are you under its power?” He snapped out to Adrien, his voice stretching into a high whine. “Erase records? What do you mean to do? What are you doing?” He panted. “Do you want money? I can get you money. All the money you want. Please. Please don’t do this.”
Adrien tipped his head to Merrick, deferring to him. “We haven’t much time,” he said, quietly. “Any parting words?”
“Yes, please,” Merrick spoke and stepped up to Wilhelm. Their eyes glowed gold and crimson. “I am not an ‘it’. I am ‘they’. I do not live to serve.” The djinn reached and tapped the ends of the fingers of his right hand against Wilhelm’s chest. “You will never keep me prisoner again.” Then Merrick stepped back despite the revenge they wanted to inflict.
The djinn looked over at Adrien and tipped their head.
Her throat screamed for mercy, but still she sang on. The small part of her mind that still belonged to her, panicking a little, desperately went through the contents of the scroll that she could remember, wondering how long this would continue…
Then something inside her broke.
Her voice was abruptly silenced, as if someone had cut her throat, and she let out a silent scream as the magic tore through her body from the tip of her toes to the top of her head, leaving her in an instant. Whatever had been holding her, hovering a couple of inches above the floor, let go and she crumpled in a heap in the middle of the circle.
Adrien felt a sudden and inexplicable loss of courage despite being so very close to the end of things, but he had the paper in his hand, and it was only a matter of reading it out loud, and remembering to add the last bit on they’d agreed to.
His voice shook despite his best efforts.
“I wish for all records and memories of the djinn Merrick to be purged from the archives, notes, and minds of all employees of the Institute with the exception of myself, and… that copies of said archives and notes be sent to my home before they are purged.”
As soon as Adrien said ‘purged,’ Wilhelm’s eyes opened wide, and he howled, a raw panicked “NO” resounding in the small corridor as he dropped to his knees in sheer confounded horror. “No, please,” he gibbered, “let us keep our work, please,” but Adrien spoke over him, keeping his eyes on Merrick the entire time.
Merrick felt a little off, feeling magic not too far off. But Adrien’s word, his wish-making centered them. The djinn nodded at Adrien, the sneered at Wilhelm as he howling reduced to gibbering.
Thankfully since Adrien was Merrick’s master now, they could do little bits of magic to benefit the vampire. No one else heard Wilhelm’s exclamations as Merrick had created a barrier around them.
Seeing Wilhelm on his knees electrified the djinn. “Such begging. But his wish is my pleasure.” Merrick stepped over to the sniveling scientist and thumped the air just shy of Wilhelm’s nose.
The wish was granted - copies of the requested archives and notes appeared on a table in Adrien’s home, all records and memories of Merrick were completely purged from the archives, notes, and minds of all employees of the Institute with the exception of Adrien.
Merrick stepped back over to Adrien, hands clasped in front of him as they looked down their nose at Wilhelm. The wish-granting and almost assured freedom from the Institute kept the djinn from sinking into the still-fresh emotional wounds
“It is done, Mr. Green.”
Adrien nodded tiredly as he carefully pocketed the vessel opposite the pocket that held the remaining syringe. “Indeed, Mr Merrick.”
Wilhelm blinked, clearly uncertain as to why he was on his knees. He clambered to his feet, wiping the snot and tears from his face with his hand, a little baffled.
Adrien tried his best to make firm eye-contact, hoping the vestiges of his control were still there. “Are you quite alright, Doctor? That was a nasty fall. You should get it looked after. I’ll show our guest out.”
Wilhelm blinked once more, his eyes darting from one man to the other, and two spots of embarrassment appeared in his cheeks as he drew himself up to his full height. “Yes. Well. Go on then.”
Adrien gestured to Merrick, and the two walked out of the corridor.
The guard looked bored, but thankfully didn’t say a word, and once they were around the corner, Adrien sagged a little in relief. “It may be easier if you made yourself scarce until I got you out,” he said, carefully. “We’re not out of the woods yet, and the fewer people that clap eyes on you, the better.”
Watching Wilhelm, Merrick blinked back any of the malice they felt towards him and nodded before taking Adrien’s lead and walked out of the corridor.
Then the djinn slowed as they turned the corner. “Yes. Of course.” Merrick replied as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened. “To the better,” they nodded and then disappeared like a cloud of dust dissipating in a breeze.
Adrien kept expecting Wilhelm or the guard to come running after him, but despite the prickling in the back of his neck, no such parties materialized, and he picked his way carefully back to a more familiar area, and then made his way back to the Archive office.
The smell of blood (not just any blood -- the rich, intoxicating tang that could only be Fae) hit his nose as soon as he opened the door, and he saw Eleri collapsed like a marionette in the middle of a circle on the floor, one of her hands bleeding, herbs still smoldering.
It was the last thing he expected -- he swallowed his surprise (and that detested desire that thrummed through him too), and rushed over to kneel at her side, patting at her cheeks. She was breathing, he could tell that much (and her heart was beating, good Lord, he could sense that all too well).
“Miss Lloyd?” He gasped, “Miss Lloyd?”
Her head rocked as he patted her cheeks, but she didn’t stir -- and when he raised an eyelid, her pupil was unseeing and blank.
He swore, his hands shaking, frantic and uncertain what on earth he should do -- his first thought, improbably, was to take her directly to Mac.
He had to visibly work to regain his composure, and he thought about next steps -- perhaps a scribbled note for his supervisor -- “Miss Lloyd has cut her hand in a workplace accident, have taken her to a doctor,” which… well. It wasn’t entirely a falsehood, and it’d explain the blood (the blood… focus, dammit). He’d wanted to avoid attention or oddities today of all days, and was all too aware of the delicate vessel in his pocket, the vessel he had yet to successfully leave the building with, and he was distracted and worried (Jesus what’d it look like if he carried her down the street, they’d think he was the goddamn Ripper. Focus.), and he patted her cheeks once more and pulled her up gently to a seated position. Her head listed worryingly, limply, and he had to support her neck.
“Miss Lloyd,” he said, his voice sharp and cracking with worry as he shook her a little, “please, please wake up.”
The look of serene slumber left Eleri’s face as she was shaken, and her eyelids fluttered open. Immediately, her brow furrowed, and she grimaced in pain. “Adrien,” she murmured, clutching her head in agony. “It work?”
But that was all she managed before the pain was too much and she retched, turning her head aside and vomiting helplessly. Thankfully, she hadn’t made it as far as the steak and kidney pie, so there wasn’t much inside her to be thrown up.
“Oh,” Adrien cried out a little, his voice wavering. “Oh. Let me… let me fetch you… let me fetch you some water,” he said. “Chair first. Then water. And a cloth, to get you cleaned up,” he said, finding list-making useful despite the fact he knew she wouldn’t understand him, his hands shifting from her shoulders so one cradled her back, and then, after a quick hesitating pause, he lifted her (she weighed almost nothing) and set her down in an office chair.
“Sit,” he said, carefully, patting her hand, the worry writ large across his forehead. “Sit.”
Gods be praised, she’d missed her dress when she’d thrown up. It was her favorite, the pale green and the way it flowed reminding her so much of the nature that she loved so much.
“It work?” she asked again. Her head was still pounding violently, but conscious thought was rapidly returning and she had to know if all this pain had been worth it. “Adrien, it work? Please!”
There was a pitcher of water nearby, and he managed not to spill it all over despite his still shaking hands. The smell of her blood in the air (mingled with the smell of bile) was still highly disconcerting, a sharp, immediate pull, but she was awake, and there wasn’t much blood, thank God. He knelt by her chair (careful of the vessel, dammit) and held the glass carefully up to her so she could sip.
“What were you trying to do?” He asked, as slowly and clearly as he could manage, a frown cutting through his face.
Eleri concentrated hard, though it made her head pound all the harder, and did her best to make her meaning clear despite her faltering grip on English.
“This morning,” she began slowly and carefully. “You are sad. You are scared. Big scared.” Scared wasn’t quite the word she wanted, but “trepidatious” was hardly in her wheelhouse right now. “I push, with…” she indicated her mind with a limp wave of her unblemished hand, “and I feel. So when you go, I… the Merlin scrolls. I help you.”
And he seemed to have returned unscathed, but she knew better than to judge by appearance. After all, despite her vomiting and her filthy, revolting headache, she was essentially fine. His concern was sweet though, and she dug deep and mustered up one of her sweet Eleri smiles for him.
“In the Merlin scrolls, the magic is old. Old, and …strong. It protects. I did this to you.”
There was a deep and terrible twist in Adrien’s stomach at the thought that he’d somehow been the impetus for his assistant’s current state -- that she’d done that for him to begin with -- and he didn’t quite know how to respond gracefully.
“Well, then,” he said, wetting a handkerchief and handing it to her so she could wipe her face some, and, after another beat, reaching up cautiously to put a cool hand over her forehead.
“You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk on my account,” he said, before sighing, and slowing down. “Too much for me,” he qualified. “...It worked,” he added. “Thank you.”
“It worked?” she repeated, lighting up. “It worked!” She launched herself out of the chair and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest. On a good day she knew he wasn’t the effusive, affectionate type, but dammit, she was, and this day had been one hell of a ride.
“I do this to you… for you,” she corrected herself as she pulled back and slumped back in the chair. “I do this because I care. You are nice to me. I like you.” And for once, her language skills weren’t to blame for her speech - the simplicity of the sentiment was. But she had one question to ask.
“What do we do?” she ventured. She used “we” because whether he liked it or not, she was in this, and she was in this because she wanted to be. “Why do you feel sad and… so big scared this morning? Where do you go? What do you do?” She paused. “What do we do? Please?”
Adrien paused, and nodded. “We saved someone,” he said, quietly. “We set someone free.” It wasn’t quite as simple as that -- Merrick was still a spirit bound (Adrien was too much of a coward to take that particular leap), and Merrick wasn’t quite out of the weeds yet. As long as the vessel was in the Institute, there was still a danger.
And there was his assistant -- looking decidedly more herself, but still far too pale about the face for comfort.
He frowned. “I need to take you to Mac.”
“Mac? Why?” she asked. “I am good. My head is… ow, but I will sleep. I not need Mac. I don’t need Mac,” she corrected herself triumphantly. “I need… water, and my steak and kidney pie,” she remembered suddenly, brightening further. “I need sleep. Maybe tomorrow I sleep, not work. But I don’t need Mac.”
Merrick wasn’t sure how long it would take Adrien to make to the Lionhart. And they could not see out of the vessel. So the djinn emerged and appeared near the closed door. They were still running on a bit of adrenaline as they stood there and then blinked as he saw Adrien and the young woman...fae. Merrick recognized the circle on the floor and the presence of her magic.
“Is…, nope, is there a problem?” they asked gently, hoping not to startle them. In the back of their mind, they were anxious and worried that something had happened and the plan at risk of failing.
Adrien nodded at Merrick. “Mr Merrick, Miss Lloyd. Miss Lloyd, Mr Merrick.” He stood to refill the glass of water. “Miss Lloyd was protecting me,” he said, in a low aside to Merrick. “The office… I don’t know how I’ll explain it, and I’m worried she’s not well.”
The office was, to put it politely, a wreck -- smoldering herbs and vomit and blood on the floor -- but Eleri was conscious and talking coherently, and the cut on her hand had healed, which was something.
He looked at Merrick. “Let me cover our tracks here, make sure she’s alright, and then we can go to the Lionhart. Just a few minutes more.”
The scent of blood, vomit, and burnt herbs entered their nose and Merrick frowned. Stepping closer to them, the djinn knelt and softly smiled at Eleri. “Hello, Miss. Lloyd. Thank you for protecting Mr. Green.” They looked over at Adrien. “If I can assist, I will. Sadly, I cannot bring anyone inside my vessel.”
Cocking her head to the side, Eleri regarded this new person in front of her. Odd, but not in a bad way. Just not any kind of person she’d ever encountered before. Not vampire, or werewolf. Not human. If she had understood the world “vessel”, she might have clicked a little quicker. But, again, it had been a day.
“Eleri,” she corrected gently. She actually kind of hated being called “Miss Lloyd” - Lloyd was an arbitrary name she’d taken, and Eleri was who she was. Adrien’s insistence on the formality was his way of keeping distance between them, she thought. Him, she thought she understood. This new person, Merrick, didn’t need to start out that way with her.
“I must clean this place,” she said finally, wrinkling her nose as the reality sank in.
“Eleri,” Merrick corrected themselves and gently touched the Fae’s shoulder. “I will clean up.”
They stood up and watched their magic work - making the mess of burnt herbs, spilt blood, vomit, and the circle evaporate like breath on a mirror. Merrick breathed and asked, “Mr. Green, will this do?”
Adrien had been prepared to fetch a dustpan and whisk, and perhaps ask if the djinn could pitch in -- he wasn’t about to allow his assistant to exert herself, and hadn’t conceived of Merrick being capable of doing anything magical without a direct request.
He blinked, a little astonished, and nodded.
“It will, thank you,” he said, clearing his throat, and looking back to Eleri, speaking clearly and slowly. “Mr Merrick and I must go to the Lionhart. You are certain you do not need to come too?” He said, his expression clearly unconvinced. “Even so, you ought to go home and rest.”
“My head,” Eleri said in agreement. It was still throbbing. “I must sleep.”
Merrick’s magic was obviously far stronger than hers. The room had been cleaned up in the blink of an eye - and she would have had to burn more herbs, sing more…
“But I help,” she said proudly, getting to her feet and reaching for her (still-warm!) steak and kidney pie.
Adrien hovered a bit as she stood, but she seemed steady enough on her feet. “Do you need me to call you a cab?” He asked, “or can you get home well enough on your own? And you’re right not to come in tomorrow.”
“And yes,” he added, a little belatedly, “you very much did. Thank you.”
“A cab? No, I think… I am happy, because I help. I think I will… dance home,” she said. Her head felt awful, but the fresh air would do her good, and she was so, so pleased that she had managed to help him that she felt she very well could dance home. She managed a smile, one that was much closer to her usual cheeky grin, and then risked darting in to hug him again.
“You are nice, and I am happy that I help you,” she said. “Tomorrow, I sleep. Then… tomorrow tomorrow, I bring lunch for us.”
To Merrick, she flashed her sweet smile. “I like to meet you. If Adrien want to save you, you are good. A new friend?” She grinned. “Thank you for… clean.”
With that, she flitted out of the room, literally dancing on the tips of her toes (albeit a little more carefully than usual. No spinning, not with that headache).
Adrien looked on as she left the room without so much as a wobble. The day’s improbable events were quickly spinning around him, and he focused long enough to leave a note for his supervisor -- ‘Headed out to lunch, Miss Lloyd has taken ill and has gone home for the rest of the day’ -- and then looked over at Merrick.
“Well, then,” he said, “let’s go, shall we?”
“You’re welcome,” Merrick softly softly to Eleri and nodded, “Yes, new friend.” They liked the Fae’s kind spirit.
Then the djinn slowly stood and watched her leave. Then Adrien’s voice brought back to the present and the next portion of the plan. “Yes, please.”