angelic_gabe (angelic_gabe) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-07-24 22:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | chiara di palermo, gabriel allen, keira adams |
Who: Gabriel Allen, Keira Adams, Chiara di Palermo
What: A most unexpected encounter, and an argument or two
Where: L'allbergo
When: 24th July, 1888; Gabriel's monthly meeting
Rating: PG
Gabriel made his way up to L'albergo for his monthly meeting with Chiara, bottle of wine in hand. He had some gossip about the Black case, of course, due to his rather pleasant trip as a translator for the Night Watch -- a set of circumstances that he’d found no end of amusing -- but he knew the majority of the meeting would be spent coyly dancing around her latest caper. Chiara tended to dole out her plans in bits and pieces, teasing, tantalizing -- he knew she enjoyed holding most of it just out of his reach, and he enjoyed being teased, so it all worked out rather well.
His monthly visits tended to follow a prescribed sort of choreography at L'albergo, and while he stuck firmly to the prescribed route (in the door, through the front entryway, and straight up the stairs to Chiara’s rooms), it was inevitable that he’d see some of the girls lingering and giggling in the stairwells and entryway, attempting their best impression of being scandalized by his presence, and he tended to reward them with a wink and a friendly grin, but no more. A few years back, some of the Neofite had a running contest to see if any of them could successfully pick his pocket by the time he reached Chiara’s floor, but after Chiara had found out about it, their attempts had come to an end -- something he had no doubt they were still pouting about.
He knocked politely on the door to L'albergo, pleased smile on his face, his suit and his timing, as always, impeccable.
Keira was late. Today was her weekly day to the beach, to the ocean, and she was generally gone early in the morning. Today, however, she was running way behind. There had been an issue at Hidden Secrets, one that she had to attend to and in her rush to get to the tea shop, she had left items behind at L’albergo that she always took with her to the beach which meant she had to run back to the house to grab her things.
When the knock to the door came, she was coming out of her room. “I’ll get it,” she called out, knowing that one of the girls would probably race to the door if they could. The dashing man that came to see Chiara was here, the one that all the girls were aflutter about, the man that Keira had yet to see because she was gone to the beach or at the shop or doing some other something that kept her from seeing the gentleman. Of course, she hadn’t actually pushed to see him, knowing that if she had wanted to at any time all she had to do was to stay home. She hadn’t been interested, however. She wasn’t the type to be all giddy as the other women, her past always right there with her.
Getting to the door, she pulled it open with a smile set on her face until she saw who was on the other side. Her heart came to a sudden stop and then started up again in a frenzy that left her a little breathless. The man who stood in front of her was indeed handsome, he was also someone she knew.
“Mr...Mr. Allen?” She croaked out his name and cleared her throat. “Wha...what are you doing here?” She looked around nervously, checking behind her to see if any of the girls were there before looking at Gabriel again. He didn’t know that she was part of the Sisterhood, a secret that she had kept to herself as it was meant to be, but now it seemed the secret was out.
Gabriel was a man who, by necessity, had cultivated a careful life of layers, and a variety of roles he played while in each. He held his secrets close to his chest as a matter of course, and prided himself on his capacity to walk the tightrope between the world of the mundane, where he was a respectable widower and a gentleman, and the supernatural world, where he was a demon of means who ran a brothel. The latter detail was not flaunted by any means, and he had no doubt that there were many in that community who turned a willfully blind eye to its presence (as well as his personal predilections) so as to maintain a fiction of propriety, but it was far, far closer to the surface in those circles, and the sort of open secret that he could manage in a community whose survival depended on the keeping of shared secrets.
And then there were other layers beyond that, held even closer -- among them the networks of prostitutes and pickpockets he’d cultivated, his associations with the criminal class, his wanderings late at night down by the docks to keep his fingers squarely on the pulse of things with a language and a custom he felt as at home in as he would a ball thrown by a Member of Parliament. Chiara knew he walked on the shady side of the street now and then, of course, as did Lydia, but even then, he kept some of the hairy details to himself.
He wasn’t easily surprised, but when he opened the door to see Mrs Adams, it genuinely took him aback to have his worlds colliding so unexpectedly.
The shy, pretty mermaid had been on his radar for months, and during that time, he’d cultivated a friendship with her -- one he’d thought was genuine -- and seeing her at the door of L’albergo brought all that into question with a roaring chasm of uncertainty. Had she been planted in his path? Had he been a mark? Was Chiara testing him, or testing Keira and using him to do it, or milking him for some information she didn’t trust he’d provide her if asked?
Had Keira’s sweet, shy, slightly wounded air been an act? A ruse to bring him in, make him more likely to disclose?
He turned pale, eyes flashing with sudden fear and anger before he managed to school his features.
“Mrs Adams,” he said, cooly. “What an unexpected surprise.” He raised an eyebrow, frowning. “My reason for being here is no doubt already known to you, as it is scheduled far in advance, but it is most curious that I haven’t caught a glimpse of you until now. Have you gotten what you were looking for, then?” He asked, his voice becoming a little more sharp, “or were you just caught unawares?”
Keira had hoped that Gabriel was here by accident. Lost maybe. Or maybe he had noticed her entering the house and was curious about where she lived and was coming to call on her. She had never told him where she lived, so it was a good stretch. All of that would have been easier. She had come to care greatly about Gabriel in the time she had spent with him, enough so that she always was looking forward to seeing him. He made her feel safe, even if he was some demon Incubus he was honest and open and he never pushed her for anything other than what she was willing to give.
The look in his eyes, how they flashed with anger and the coolness in his voice told her that this wasn’t what she hoped it was and instead was what she feared it was. He was here to see Chiara and his words told her that he was not happy that Keira was here.
His voice so sharp, the anger in his eyes, had her taking a small step back and dropping her eyes downward, something she had done when her late husband had been angry about something. “I didn’t know…” she started and shook her head. Had his name been mentioned before. Gabe. Gabriel. Mr. Allen. It could have been and she hadn’t made a connection. “I’m usually gone when the visitor...you...comes…” she stopped and then brought her head up as she realized where his questioning was going. “What do you mean if I’ve gotten what I was looking for?”
“There's no need to keep up a pretense,” Gabriel replied, frustrated. The wounded innocent look she was shooting his way and her stammers of innocence struck him as suspect, as her persisting in her ruse as best as she could in the face of evidence, and this lack of courtesy made his eyes flash yet again, even though his voice was still low and cool.
“I'm certain Chiara will pass it off as a jest, regardless of your actual designs, but know that I am not amused, and I am no mark to be toyed with.”
“This is not a pretense!” Keira tried to plead with him. “I never knew,” she shook her head. “You know me, Gabriel. We’re friends,” she frowned. “You were never a mark…” she tried to get him to understand, but the look on his face and the way he looked at her, she knew that no words would have him changing his mind.
He believed that she had been sent to spy on him. To use him. And that hurt her more than anything that he would believe that.
Tears welled in her eyes and she fought to find voice. She knew she needed to get to the ocean but she hated to leave Gabriel thinking the worst of her.
“Don’t be so certain, Mr. Allen,” she turned her face upwards, defiant. “Chiara will set you straight for thinking the worst. And just to remind you, it’s been you that has always made contact with me, not the other way around. Perhaps you’ve been using me to spy on The Sisterhood,” she said. “But I would never think that, though now that I know who you are and what it is you do...maybe I should think that,” she said, turning the table around on him. “I know you must be in a rush for your meeting, and I have elsewhere to be right now so if you’ll excuse me….” she said as she fought back tears, turning her face once more so he wouldn’t see any tears escape.
He sighed and turned to walk further into the building, his mood foul.
There were a few options, all less than savory -- the first, that Keira had indeed been sent by Chiara to somehow test him -- and the second, that it truly was a misunderstanding, and he’d just accused a friend and left her in near-tears. He had no doubt both of the ladies would heartily deny it regardless, and he wondered whether he’d be able to trust either of them quite as easily as he had before this revelation -- but the appearance of Keira at the door had been a genuine surprise -- an unpleasantly unexpected one -- and he’d suspected the worst.
He’d known Chiara long enough to give her an opportunity to explain herself -- the very thought that she’d misuse him so made his stomach twist, and left a sour taste in his mouth as he stormed his way up the stairs and knocked on the door with a frown.
As was usual, Chiara was waiting just inside the door to her floor for Gabriel to arrive. What was not usual was the way in which he approached. Ordinarily he walked with a steady, measured pace, or even with something of a playful spring in his step if he had something particularly good to tell her. This time, he all but pounded up the stairs, and it did not bode well for their meeting.
She was not afraid. In a physical fight, she could tear him apart, and they both knew it. She was more annoyed, because thus far in their sixty plus year acquaintance, he had managed to keep whatever his outside upsets were outside, and not sully their meetings with them.
Flinging open the door, she frowned at him, silently disapproving of whatever this mood of his was. “I sincerely hope that face is not about to be aimed at me.”
He nodded his head in greeting, carefully, stiffly, setting the bottle of wine down on the side table with a frown.
“I was not aware until just now that Mrs Adams was one of yours,” he said, a little shortly. “I am very much hoping, Chiara, that the reason I had no idea that a person I considered to be a friend -- a person I’d known for months --- was working for you the entire time without my catching so much of a glimpse of her was due to an innocent coincidence, and not some other reason. Regardless, it was a rude shock.”
He looked at her, badly needing her assurance, while at the same time, not certain he’d be able to trust it.
It was highly ironic -- if there was anyone he knew on earth who’d fully understand the panic and fear associated with having one’s identity so fully laid bare, it was Chiara.
If Chiara was surprised by Gabriel’s words, she did not let it show on the outside. “Come now, Gabriel,” she said reprovingly. “We have known each other multiple decades.There is a reason you come from the door straight up here to me. You are here to see me. Your business is with me. It is not, has never been, and will never be, with my girls. Not under my roof. If you and Mrs. Adams know each other from outside, that is not my concern, and certainly not by my design. Furthermore, you know the rules of la Sorellanza as well as she does. If she had told you, I would have had to kill her.”
Still, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t understand the rush of adrenaline and anxiety that came with a feeling of betrayal. In a slightly more gentle voice, she continued. “After all this time, Gabriel, if I want something from you, I ask for it. You know that. You know me. And even if you cannot believe that, believe that I am not so foolish as to throw away our years of association over a petty piece of theft or deception. Keira is an amica, barely on the cusp of knowing anything worthwhile. If truth be told, you know more about the latest caper than she does. So.”
She gestured through to her office, where the customary tea and cakes were waiting. “Is this foolishness out of your system yet?”
The look he shot her was distinctly wary -- but he’d had a chance to calm some, and his choices were limited -- if it came to it, he’d rather do his best to move forward as gracefully as he could, despite the unexpected revelation that Keira wasn’t who he thought she was.
His relationship with Chiara was long-standing, and required a certain degree of mutual trust -- he wouldn’t turn that relationship aside easily even though his trust had been shaken a little, and he exhaled a little and chose to step into the room.
“It is if you are willing to forgive me for my suspicions,” he said, carefully, giving her a nod.
He’d sort out what he thought about Keira later.
He raised a hand, a thought occurring. “And now that I am more fully informed, I believe this matter to be a personal one between myself and the lady, and I would not have Mrs Adams face any reprimand from you on my account. Her conduct to date has been the height of discretion.”
“Let us say no more, then,” Chiara said primly, then abruptly changed her mind, fangs extending despite herself. “Though I must say I am hurt that you would immediately jump to ‘deception’ with the information at hand. Of course Keira kept her membership a secret, it is a requirement of said membership! But that aside, how little do you think of me, that you would even entertain the idea of such a… a… pointless betrayal?”
She was angrier, and more hurt, than she had anticipated. It took some effort to retract her fangs and return to her normal calm and aloof demeanor.
“Do try to see things from my perspective, dearest,” Gabriel replied, quietly. “I befriend a perfectly sweet and normal-seeming girl over the course of months, and of all your sorelle, I don’t catch a single glimpse of that particular one during any of my visits. It’s a remarkable coincidence, you must admit -- one I am willing to accept on faith, and the strength I place in your word, because I value your friendship too much -- the slightest possibility that you could have had some purpose behind it struck me to my heart, and took my breath away. I wanted it to be a simple coincidence -- a happenstance of fate -- because the alternative was far too awful.”
He looked over at her. “What would you have done, in my place? I had to say something, and I meant what I said -- that I hoped it was nothing more.” A small smile ghosted across his lips. “If anything,” he added, “this might go to show you I have a very healthy regard for your intelligence and capacity for truly complicated scheming, and that I care deeply enough about our friendship to be truly cut to the core should it be threatened. Forgive me?” He asked once more. “Please?”
He knew he was extending himself to take what she said at face value -- that it was also precisely the thing she’d do if she had been engaged in some long con that he’d stumbled across. But it was a risk he was willing to take.
“I quite understand,” Chiara said, somewhat mollified to hear his explanation. “If, of course, you can see it from my perspective. You came up here almost accusing me of deceiving you, with no other evidence than… you hadn’t seen her before? Well, if you have been friends with her for months, answer me this. Do you know what she is?”
“We both know of our respective natures,” he said, carefully. “We have a mutual friend, as well… one of my regular lovers is a Merman.”
“Then you know she must spend one day a week in the water,” Chiara said deliberately. “She goes every week at this time, more or less. She is, however, a little late today. This is a regular thing. Your visits, also, are a regular thing: every fourth week, at this time…?”
She trailed off, giving him a moment to let that sink in. “No deception, no deviousness, no dark, nefarious purposes. Just two unrelated pieces of business that are scheduled for a similar time.”
“Of course,” he said with a wry twist of his mouth, and something settled in his chest. “You’re too right. How silly of me,” he added, looking at her in a way he’d hoped she’d take as appropriately contrite. He’d asked for her forgiveness twice now, and hadn’t received it -- something he most certainly hadn’t failed to notice, and he knew he’d hurt her, and that in the depths of his sudden and unpleasant surprise, he hadn’t been at his best.
“As for what I would do if it were me, well. I would have at least asked before jumping to the conclusion that you were deliberately trying to deceive me,” she said, then laughed wryly. “That is a lie. I likely would have torn your throat out, if I had reason to suspect you were deceiving me.” She twinkled her eyes at him to show that she was joking, in an attempt to bring the mood back somewhere lighter… but she did not verbally accept his apology. His trust in her might be restored, but her trust in him had been shaken, badly. If a simple misunderstanding was all it took for him to turn on her, well. Trust was the most precious commodity of all, and for now, for him, she had significantly less than she had the day before.
“Shall we now get down to business?” she continued, as if the last few minutes unpleasantness had not happened.
“Ah, but I did just that, dearest,” he said, mildly, pressing on the point just a touch more -- he knew he was skirting the edge of her own temper, but her claims of his actions were quite strong, and he wanted to at least make sure he left her with the correct impression.
“...I had just had a rude shock, and unpleasant words with the lady as a result, and yes, I was in a poor mood because of it, but the next thing I did was to immediately go to you and ask whether it was a simple coincidence. I don’t believe I directly accused you of anything at all -- although in my mood, it might’ve seemed I was -- but truly -- your talk of deception and accusation and nefariousness -- the most I said, ma bella, was that I hoped it wasn’t anything else, and left it at that. You supplied the rest,” he said. “Please don’t leave today thinking otherwise -- it would be a disservice to us both.” He paused. “In truth, one of my very first thoughts was that it was a jest, and I was taken aback and not amused at being toyed with -- I’ll admit, I handled myself poorly with my temper, Chiara, but please don’t think that poorly of me. I don’t think I could bear it if you thought me that fickle.”
He poured himself a cup of tea. “The werewolves continue to be in quite a froth over this Lord Black incident,” he said, “and I managed to go to Paris with a member of the Night Watch to serve in an official capacity, as translator, which was no end of amusing, believe me,” he added. “We were able to walk out of the French office with all sorts of files that they allowed us to take back to the apartment, and they hardly batted an eye. It was quite something.”
When he put it that way, the whole thing seemed almost… silly. But it was not in Chiara’s nature to admit something like that. Instead, she walked closer to him, and pressed a not-very-chaste kiss to his mouth.
“We will say no more about it,” she declared. “Now, you should tell me if any of these… files might contain information I can use?”
“Of course there wasn’t,” he replied, with a gratified smile and a wave of his hand. “It was about an attack on a gentleman in France, and unless you’re more deeply enmeshed in werewolf politics than I’d thought, I can’t imagine you’d find it any more than an interesting read. Still, it was rather… novel to have such access.”
He held up a finger. “I’d not want to abuse the privilege too much, should the opportunity come up again -- unless it were for an incredibly good reason, and would arouse minimal suspicion. I’d rather keep myself in the Night Watch’s books as being useful -- but if I did happen to see something that might be interesting to you, well. I’d be sure to let you know.”