I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found [pt. 2]
1/20/19 2:30 am
BRIAR + JULIUS
PG-13 | Complete
Based on the manner in which he’d found not-Maeve that one morning not that long ago, he was careful not to stir much (because, he supposed it was possible that was the face he’d find on the pillow next to his), only enough to turn his head and.
Oh. Oh. OH.
Oh fuck.
Shit shit shit. Oh he was so fucked.
Well there went feeling better.
She had slept deep, like a rock, really, much more so than usual. Maybe that was why she didn’t stir at first when he started moving, or when he tensed up. Hell, she slept lightly a good portion of the time at her own house, though less and less as time went on. Somewhere else? Yeah, someone stubbing their toe two rooms over could have an eye cracking open in wariness.
This time though, whether it was because it was him, and she really did trust him, against her better judgement, or because of the emotional drain of the evening, Tulip stayed asleep for a bit after he began to stir.
When she did wake up it wasn’t because she had gotten all the rest she needed or because of him, it was because the damn sweatpants started to slid off her much narrower hips when she rolled over in her sleep. Her face twisted in annoyance, slowly breaking through the wall of REM, clumsy hands grabbing at the waistband to pull them up, off, something.
But the texture of the blankets made her eyes snap open, going from groggy to fully alert so abrupt one would think he had slammed a door instead of just lying there innocently. Her hands were too soft, her hair far too long, and she didn’t need to thinking about anything beyond that, because while this wasn’t the worst case —
You know, actually, this might just be the worst case scenario actually.
“Well. Fuck.” Yep. Tulip. Soft accent and voice as smooth as silk even after all this time. The hand in the blankets tensed and bunched up, the other twisting in his shirt, and waking up in bed with a one-night stand turned friend wearing his clothes wasn’t the recipe for a disaster at all, was it? A dozen plans, each more ridiculous than the last unfolded in her head as she tensed like a rabbit trying to decide how to best get away from a coyote as she kept her back to him, not letting him see her eyes wide with panic even if her body practically vibrated with it.
Julius scrambled to sit up in the bed, since now she was clearly awake, it didn’t make sense to be subtle or careful any longer. His knees were pulled to his chest again a second time as he leaned back against the headboard, resisting the urge to just bang his head against it. He didn’t know. How could he have known? What was the… Was there even… What did one even say in a circumstance like this?
Fuck.
“You? That was… You were the…” It was too early or too late or too soon after waking to form a proper sentence but. “I’m so sorry.” What else was there to say, really? He couldn’t even see her face now but, it couldn’t be good, right? This was how he died, wasn’t it? Where were those knives?
“The idiot, yes, that’s me.” Came the bitter voice from under his comforter where she was slowly sinking further under, unwilling to turn around and look at him, didn’t want to see his face and sure as fuck didn’t want him to see her’s. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure what it looked like, emotion wise. There were too many in her head, and she wanted to be smaller, be spiky Briar or headstrong Sebastian, but her body was too awash in memories, focus shot to all hell, and Tulip she stayed, curling up slowing to make herself smaller the old fashioned. But the apology made her minute shifting towards the edge of the bed still, “What are you apologizing for? It was my fault. I was the damned fool who — I know better and yet — “ A deep shuddering breath, old humiliation and frustration at herself rushing out of a carefully taped up, dusty box in her mind to flood her voice and bones, half thoughts and stuffed down emotions that she was trying to hide even now, “You were right. I could have told you. You did nothing wrong.” In a voice too small for Maeve or Sebastian, too wavering for Tulip, and she needed to slide out of bed, take the remains of her dignity and make her way out but that meant she would inevitably see his face.
Well, alright. He wasn’t going to go that far as to call her an idiot. That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it? And anyway it defeated the purpose of apologizing, didn’t it? There was, however, some satisfaction in not having to say I told you so, instead having the other person do it for you.
And yet. “Well, I suppose it’s nice to hear someone tell me I’m right now and then,” he said chewing the inside of his lip. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how to feel right now, complicated further by the fact that she didn’t just… Leap up and start strangling him for stealing from her. A little angry, perhaps, for being cheated in a way, that was somehow more and less bad than what he’d done, depending on who you asked. This was why he’d wanted to know, after all. To be able to atone for whatever mess he’d left in his wake where it involved her, only to have her refuse his apology. Which was not actually part of the plan. But he supposed was a real possibility he should have planned for.
And, well, he supposed she wasn’t wrong. If ever there had been a time to tell him that would have been it.
“You know I wouldn’t have taken any of it if I’d known, so yes, maybe you’re right. But still. I’m sorry for not knowing.” Whether that was because he was sorry he couldn’t figure it out or sorry because she hadn’t told him and it plucked a string of annoyance in him was up for debate.
Ugh. Tulip rolled her eyes under the blankets, of course he would still say shit like that at a time like this. The annoyance was almost enough to break through the cloak of old shame that had settled on her, old but still having that same oppressiveness that it had last time it had been shook out. The worst kind of memories, really. Anger and bitterness she could wring motivation out of, spite dripping into her spine to power her forward when nothing else could. But how did she polish up shame so it was useful?
“Stop apologizing, alright? I don’t know if you’re doing it to make me feel better or yourself but it’s dumb and I don’t want it.” Somehow his apologies almost made it worse, she thought laughing was the most scathing path this could take but nope. Pity burned on the way down in a very unique way. Finally she yanked the blankets back, needing to breath, stepping onto the carpet even as she bunched Sebastian’s pants around her hips, pointedly not looking at him as she tried to make her way out of the room without tripping, “Just. Don’t tell Marie, or anyone else about this one alright? Any of the others, I don’t give a shit. I don’t need my humiliation spread across this place like my old laundry escaping from the line.” The ‘request’, if it could be called that, was tossed over her shoulder as she went through his doorway, suddenly feeling far too trapped and exposed or his room and definitely his bed.
Dumb?
Oh well, who was the one who kept dropping all these cheeky little hints about how they might have slept together once--not that he knew about it because she had about a hundred million faces bopping around--and it turned out the one was probably, most likely, the one face that hated him the most for whatever reason? The one with all the boxes. The Oh, I boxed that up a long time ago, Julius with answers like You know ay time he tried to get more out of her than cryptic answers because clearly he did not know.
Fine. No more apologies, because in this scenario he’d only been doing what he was born to do. Embracing his heritage or whatever. He slid out of the bed, one hand dragged through his hair. “What do you want me to say then? Fuck you Tulip, because you’ve basically stolen a memory from me for thirty odd years? Because you weren’t who I thought you were and now all of a sudden I have to contend with the fact that I took something from you instead of just enjoying it for what it was?” Which, admittedly, was stealing from someone he thought was another Fae, but that was honestly kind of a treat in the way considering his semi-self-deprecating ways.
“Also, why in the name of Oberon would I tell Marie about this? I haven’t told anyone about any of you. You want to talk about things that are dumb that’s about the dumbest thing you could have asked of me.” She should have known him better than that by now.
Yeah, well. It was funny when it was a joke, alright? Or maybe she had hoped if she made light of it enough this her brain would process it differently when it finally spilled out, fingers grasping for any sort of control or steady ground. How the hell were they going to be friends after this? Sebastian shouldn’t have stayed, Maeve shouldn’t have let herself be him again, should have stayed home when she felt that Fae, hell, should kept him at arms length this entire time instead of starting to see him as a person.
All the coulda, shoulda wouldas sat in a circle, and needed a bloody mary. Or a row of shots.
Though she did reel on him finally for that, looking him in the face even though it came with a visible wince, “I didn’t steal shit from you, not my fault you have the perception of a damn child.” Oh, that was a low blow, but it was out now and she couldn’t take it back, “You had always taken something from me. Whether I was a stranger or a friend, taking is taking. Don’t try and make yourself feel better with that absolute drivel.”
Fucking pants. Why was Tulip so elegant and tiny? Not skinny like Briar but somehow just as cumbersome, with enough inches between her and Sebastian that she finally gave in and leaned against his counter to roll up her pants so she could make it home without stumbling about like a madwoman. A deep, exasperated sigh was given to her knee as she balanced on one leg while trying to roll up the ends of the other, “I’m not mad at you for taking advantage of an opportunity, I’ve done a helluva lot worse to better people than me.”
One leg was rolled tight up past her knee and hopefully that would work for the walk and she got started on the other, the hair cascading down her back trying to untangle itself and work it’s way into a braid at the same time, “I don’t know Julius, to laugh at the Fae made thief who was an idiot just because someone complimented her?” It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t really, because she was pretty sure she knew the answer and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his response anyway. It was irrational and she knew but, but she had just woken up and now this.
It was most definitely not a funny joke. It was his life, alright? And alright, it was cute when it felt like they were flirting, but they were most definitely not flirting any more, and also they shouldn’t be anyway because he’d drawn a very clear line in his mind about that sort of thing when she got involved with his chef/friend. And then he’d gone and gotten into a thing with Marie and now he just didn’t know. But one thing was for certain, he was most definitely not amused. He followed her out into the main room of the house, arms crossed over his chest not to keep himself warm but to hold himself in. He was done with flowers for the day, but they were threatening to make a reappearance.
“Right because I’m supposed to be able to figure out that you were a person who was supposed to be dead. Yes, goodness me, I’m such an unobservant idiot,” he drawled. Because fuck that. “When have we ever really been friends, Briar?” He added, usually very good at compartmentalizing between whichever face he was talking to, but at the moment the heart of the matter was that he hadn’t ever had enough time with any of the personalities he knew to this point to really have been friends with any of them. What, just because he liked Sebastian made them friends all of a sudden? That was ridiculous. He’d known him all of… What? Twelve, thirteen hours tops? The reason he’d been able to lean on him at all today was because Julius knew now that he was one face on the twenty sided die that was Briar/Maeve/Mieke/Sebastian/Tulip/whoever else he hadn’t met yet. “Relationships take time, and the only two I know of I’ve had enough time to become friends with in all these hundred plus years have been Briar and Maeve and I’ve never taken anything from either of them.” Thank you very much. He might have a gray area where his morals were supposed to be. His internal compass might lean a little to the left or right on any given day, but he did have rules.
“Laugh at--” What in the name of Bloody---”I never--” He sucked in a sharp breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
That — that was the first time he had said her chosen name, the closest she had to a true name these days, outloud since New York and she startled as he had landed a physical blow. It curdled her stomach, felt like he was stepping behind a shield that she had erected, or better yet, ripping it down. Julius had his drinking, his smoking and his tailored clothes, Briar had her walls and her boxes. Why he was trying to take her coping mechanisms from her she didn’t know but it felt very underhanded.
This was why she didn't like being honest.
It didn’t help that she had pictured how this was going to turn out, and this wasn’t it. Laughter in her face maybe. A smile full of pity even as the respect left his eyes, something to remind her why she didn’t want things that were real because they hurt when they weren’t and she had fucked things up between them but shit. It was probably better that she had anyway, right? Because now he was a person, and it wasn’t really about Tulip anymore except that she had something that —
She needed to be gone, ten minutes ago. This needed to stop.
“Hm, I guess it’s mostly this time since my common sense has left me.” It came out as a snarl, Tulip’s fine features twisting unnaturally, because this didn’t suit her. None of this did, she was being irrational and she was going sideways fast, but she felt too much around Julius and she was so tired of an uneven playing field. He acted like it was tilted in her favor, but it really wasn’t. She moved to the couch so she could grab Sebastian’s boots, tugging them on aggressively, temper and everything else far too close to the surface now that her protections were being stripped away, “You know, however many months ago when you saw Briar in Maeve I imagined this getting out. I figured you’d yell at me. Then I thought you would mock me, and I’m used to both of those, I can handle them,” One boot down and then the other, “But saying sorry feels like pity and I won’t take that from you, Fírinne, of all people.”
Tulip paused, agitated energy still coursing through her contrasting sharply with the calm way she rubbed at her temples. Because shit, she had more mini-breakdowns since that day in her pub than she had in fifty years. This wouldn’t happen with James. Even if she shared more about herself. A deep breath, another, and she pulled her hands away, looking at them as they trembled slightly, things piling up in her mind. One more sigh and her dark, too expressive eyes were pulled up to him. The anger was gone, leaving a sort of resigned sadness and a quiet voice in its wake. There was something there that wanted out that she wouldn’t let spill forth, self control snatching it back before it could flood out through her lips, and when she dug her nails into those words and those truths, she felt her progress slipping back as well. Like a physical feeling of packing herself back in her shell.
“If Chrysanthemum arrives before I return, call the pub. They’ll know how to reach me.” She needed to get away for a bit, get her head on straight, come back, focus on Oksana, on her businesses, on James. Leave the past in the past. Briar was used to being near things she couldn’t have, she just needed a little bit of time to remember who — what — she was. Having a plan, as always, helped her calm down. Hole up inside her head, wrap herself in the same calm that had kept her from getting her pretty face fucked up back when she was barely a person in the eyes of the law even when she wanted to rage. When she clomped off to get her weapons, her gait was awkward, small feet in men’s large boots, but her shoulders were back and her head was held high.
Pity?
Oh of all the-- He wasn’t even going to touch that whole lack of common sense thing because whatever. If being friends with someone meant you abandoned common sense, then the emotionally stunted one was not him. Titania’s tits. “You think I’m apologizing out of pity? How can you have grown up human and be so absolutely disconnected from humanity? I’m apologizing because I just found out I fucked over someone I consider a friend, do you remember the conversation where we decided we were friends? Because I do, it was in this very kitchen. Or do you also not know how friends work?” He didn’t realize he’d be dealing with his father twice in one day. Oberon’s balls, that was the most Fae thing he’d ever heard come out of her mouth. Apology equals pity. What was that?
Or were they even friends now, because she’d just back tracked into calling him by his last name, which grated at him a little, but not nearly as much as hearing his father use his real name earlier. It just felt like a step backward.
He was still trying to comprehend all of… that when she completely switched gears on him. “What?” Where was she going? They were having an argument! “Where are you going?” She was already out on the porch grabbing for her weapons. Fuck. He wasn’t going back out in the cold without shoes and a jacket. There had been too much of that lately.
“Just lucky I guess.” The laugh was hollow, “We weren’t friends then. You didn’t know, and you can’t help what you are. I let myself forget that, and what I am.” It tasted like finality in her mouth, even though it made her chest hurt like someone was standing on it. It was fine. Tulip rolled her eyes at him, tone as scathing as her scowl, “Of course I remember, I’m the one that prompted it.” But she elected not to respond to the do you not know what friends are, she knew a question with no satisfactory answer when she heard one. Besides, her friends were few and far inbetween, and even fewer knew half as much as she did.
Really, this was the first time she had consistently lived in the same town as anyone she considered a friend. Oksana was here now and James was...Well. He was different. She didn’t —
No, not a friend, but something.
He said it wasn’t about pity, and she knew he couldn’t lie about something so directly but it still settled on her unevenly. Maybe because this memory had been soaked in shame and bitterness like vegetables set to pickle, and it was going to be hard to scrub it clean.
The door slid behind her just as she tossed over her shoulder, “Home. Then Thailand I think.” The knives were stowed again, the bat a little heavy on her shoulder in comparison to how it was on Sebastian’s but she could handle it. A finger brushed over Oksana’s mark again, and it shimmered into invisibility. The walk Home was a little blurry, mind turning over what he said and how it compared with her expectations, readjusting to this new perspective, but she kept coming back to that she had let herself get too caught up in things. Forgot her place in the world. By the time she got home and put her weapons back, she was able to shift back to Briar, looking for a particular go bag, wanting to be far from both Maeve and Tulip. Elegant, but a different sort, just the right to visit a few people to help with Oksana’s project and find a challenge or three out in the world. Something to get her mind off of things, get her feet back.
Like hell he couldn’t--but oh it was starting to smell like violets and he felt like he was basically going to just puke flowers everywhere so he shut his mouth, and when she started packing up and walked straight out the door talking about Thailand, he just stood there arms around his stomach, scowling until he felt he could move without feeling like flowers were just going to crop up all over his living room floor, and then bolted to the front door for a coat and shoes following her out into the cold, not even thinking about the fact that he hadn’t the foggiest idea of where she lived at all, and by the time he made it back out the back door she was nowhere to be seen, just started walking blindly, subconsciously following the thread of familiar magic emitted from her or the one from their deal or whatever. Something.
He couldn’t really explain it, just wound up at a house and realized that if he had wards up, she most definitely did--probably better ones than he had, considering she was far more closed off than he was--and yet… He’d definitely just stomped up the yard to the door without so much as…
Well, anything. Like they just peeled back like onion skin. What the actual--
Except the more pressing thing was that there was still an argument going on and she just walked right out of it like that was going to be the end of it and that was not how things worked. So he didn’t even bother knocking, which, alright, in hindsight was just as childish as just walking off, but he’d already had to deal with one very childish adult today and he’d just about had his fill. “Real mature, by the way, running from your problems. We’re having an argument, it’s not just going to go away because you decided to go home and fuck off to Thailand.” Julius was basically shouting because he had no idea where she was in the house, and frankly wasn’t sure the place wasn’t booby trapped, but… Wow, this was not the house he was expecting at all. It was so… Well it was all over the place, but… Somehow still together? Maybe he should have expected that, really.
And then, in the middle of his casual, look-but-don’t-touch snooping, his eyes fell on something else entirely unexpected and the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. Pressed, framed, hung on the wall was the flower he’d given to Yukio in Japan 113 years ago.
He needed to sit down.
Briar nearly came out of her skin when she felt him enter her home, her mortal alarm system pinging from both her keypad and her phone, but not actually going off because she had (for reasons she didn’t dwell on) added him to both of her security systems months ago. The flower still retained his magic, that combined with the bit of it that clung to her from their deal had been enough to train her wards to recognize him.
But she had never expected him to actually show up, especially when he wasn’t invited. There were rules, damnit, you didn’t just — he didn’t even knock! Who the hell did that? Genuine shock and exasperation filled her as she stormed out of her room in the back of the house, one of her favorite green dresses on but no shoes yet, curls in an artful disarray. “What the fuck, Firinne? Who just barges into other people’s houses?” Honestly, she couldn’t see him, the yell was down the hall as she tried to remember if she had disabled traps because she definitely had them. Oh, there was one, shit. Right in the hall just before what would be her guest room if she ever had guests and instead had been converted into a training dojo. It had seemed like a reasonable place for an extra layer of security. A hand along the doorway against the engraving there and a whisper of her mother’s name made it safe, “I thought I was being the mature one this time, actually.”
But then he came into view as she came into the living room, and she saw what he was looking at. Well. Fuck. There goes that game. Yukio. Her first real long term job as someone else. A role that had been too easy to fall into. The longest she had known him, and the first time she took a risk for him when it would have benefitted her to not do so. Soft and sweet, his clever eyes seeing far too much, like they always did.
She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned against the wall and dug her toes farther into the carpet, “Well. What now? Shines gone, ain’t it?” And she was surprised to find that the question was genuine, the raised eyebrow almost making up for the lack of bite in her voice. Bookends. All of her faces out now, her original that he hadn’t seen for 140 years, the exact same hodge podge accent that no one had heard since New York had evolved with whole new waves of immigrants and anger.
Her words fell on deaf ears as he just stood there, trying to make everything fit in his head now that he had all the pieces to the puzzle, and somehow just feeling more confused than ever.
Why had she kept it? Flowers were so ridiculous and impermanent, and yet here she had preserved this one so it stood the test of time. Over a century. Who did that? He just.
Maybe it was too much sleep or not enough, or everything with his dad and his sister and then Tulip and now, this? Julius dragged a hand over his face, back up through his hair, and then pressed his fingers into his eyes for a minute as if he was trying to reset his brain before finally looking over at her and there. Finally. Briar.
Oberon, was that so difficult? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yeah, finally, just Briar. A bit though, the one he met wasn’t comfortable in something this soft and expensive yet, couldn’t afford it either. But she had asked him that hadn’t she, would he want her to be the exact same as their first encounter and he had said no. So she didn’t feel like she was lying this time, and why should she, in her own home. For five years, that wasn’t even part of a con, just her, at least in these four walls.
Metaphorically at least,
It looked like it broke him almost, which was strange to her, because even though he had known Yukio the longest, surely she was the least memorable. The least remarkable. Her bite and venom only showing in twitches of her hand under flowery sleeves or under breakfast trays, an unwavering gaze on things she shouldn’t have been trying to understand. But the world was still so different for her then — as was he.
But her concern overrode her anger at him and herself, because she had grown soft apparently, and she found herself approaching him against her better judgement. Damn, she sometimes forgot how short she actually was, but she didn’t alter it as she peered up at him, eyebrows knitted with concern as she glanced from the flower on the wall to him. Should she apologize for keeping it? Maybe. Briar could have crushed it, could have used it to develop a weapon or a tracking spell against him, but she hadn’t. A hand tentatively reached for his shoulder — paused, started to pull back but then rested against it gently, without an of Sebastian’s boldness or even Maeve’s casual touching she owned so easily, “Hey, you okay?”
Okay?
Honestly, he was completely wrecked. He’d barged in here to have an argument, and now… All of those intentions of continuing to hash that out just died, wilting like he’d expected this flower to, to be quite honest. He had so many questions, not the least of which was why was she so convinced knowing all this suddenly made her any less shiny? She was never shiny to begin with. His mind spun back to the first conversation he remembered having with Maeve with that whole metaphor about coins fished out of the gutter having the same amount of worth as one that was new and shiny, and while he certainly wasn’t going to express that now, it was… Well, just about accurate to how he felt about things.
“No, Briar, I’m a mess, clearly,” he said flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is the one you thought I’d forgotten?” He didn’t create flowers for just anyone. It was literally his least favorite trick, which is why it exploded when he was angry or otherwise distressed.
Briar fought the urge to fidget, especially since she hadn’t packed any of her normal fidgeting objects on her yet. No knives, no coins, chopsticks or pens. Unarmed. Well. As much as she ever was. But here was her friend, or if they still were after her little display, looking possibly as much lost as he had when Sebastian had hugged him the night before. Shit. Had she done that? There was that lick of disgusting guilt in her veins that she loathed so deeply.
Her hand rested on his shoulder with a little more confidence, hoping to ground him again, “Yes.” Honest, and to the point, so confused at his reaction and unsure exactly how she was supposed to handle it. Or helped. Because everything else had been brushed aside, “I didn’t think she was very notable, in the scheme of things.” Then again, she had thought that about herself, feeling cornered and at a loss that day in her pub when he remembered her after so long, “C’mon, I have a papasan you can sit down. If your knees give out I can’t carry you.” Her hand hooked into his elbow, pulling him over to the large bowl like fluffy chair under the expansive window, looking at his face closer in the light of the moon that shone through the branches outside.
Maybe it was just because this was the last one, maybe it was because she’d been so decidedly different from the others, or because he’d spent more time with her that he felt sort of dumb for not putting this one at least together on his own, or maybe it was just all that piling on from everything, but he was definitely more distressed about this than the other four.
Most likely it was all the above. “Either you don’t think very much of yourself or your creations, or you don’t think very much of me. Actually, I’m going to go with both,” he said on a sigh as she led him to the chair, collapsing in it without a hint of gracefulness. Just kind of flopped down like a rag doll, really. But ugh. They still had a deal.
“I guess that means you still have two questions.” But he wasn’t sure how well he’d do on answering them. Not that it mattered. A deal was a deal.
The glass of the window was cool against her back when she leaned back against it, watching him flop down with the stare somewhere between a parent expecting their child to bolt off into a clothing rack and a doctor waiting for convulsions. “I don’t think my self-loathing is really the matter at hand.” Even though that was as good of an admittance, an answer to his rhetorical question, wasn’t it? The rules of hospitality meant she should be offering him a drink at the very least, but she was a little hesitant to leave him while he looked like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Ah, yes. Their deal.
Her eyes drifted from him, back to the flower, “Before we wrap things up, do you have any for me? Now that it’s nearly all said and done?” She felt like he had earned it, really, just for sticking it out this far. Not she was promising answers, but she felt so raw now that she wasn’t sure how much more damage he could do. It felt a bit like the fact that she was in her territory was the only thing keeping her calm.
Oh whatever. What was the matter at hand then? “Whatever, Briar, I’m too tired to argue with you anymore,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. At this point he’d probably slept sixteen of the past 24 hours or something like that. Maybe not that many. But Saturday was definitely just one big blur of sleeping and dad stuff. “In fact, I don’t even really want to know why you thought I was so terrible for so long, because I don’t think it really matters anymore.”
Another sigh escaped him at her question. Of course he had questions, but he didn’t know what to ask. Where to begin. He attempted to gather something but finally shrugged in a way that used about half of his body like a marionette. “I think I’ve invaded enough of your space for one day.”
“You? Too tired to argue? Will wonders never cease.” Briar clearly wasn’t, but that was probably her nerves seeking out familiar ground. She sighed, sliding down to the floor and leaning her head against the chair he was sprawled in, running a hand over her arm like she would if she was cold, but that wasn’t it. The house was comfortable warm, but she was feeling squeamish, “Because you seemed to come from my Sire’s world at first, and that was all I could see. Someone like you giving two shits was too good to be true.” The impulse to rest her feet against him or lean her head just so to make contact was there but that was for Maeve and Sebastian, not her.
“Then you reminded me of the ones who just wanted to use me, or make a sideshow of me, and that was easier to focus on than the fact that you —” Her dress wasn’t exceptionally stretchy, but her hands made to pull the hem down further anyway, ever wanting to be moving somehow even as she tried to be smaller all over again, just as quickly extending her legs and refusing to turtle.
The sentence hung there, the explanation that he didn’t want and for once she was giving, abandoned and loud all the same, “And yet. Here you are, didn’t even knock.”
“Yes, well. I’m just full of surprises,” he drawled without a lot of enthusiasm. This was precisely why he tended to handle things opposite of the way she did--as few secrets and boxes as possible, no solid walls, anything he wanted hidden was kept behind metaphorical curtains and stuffed under beds, sort of out of the way, but visible for anyone who really cared to look if they could get past being held out at arms length--it was why he hadn’t really bothered with especially strong wards until he realized she’d been poking around, and even then it was only half-heartedly that he’d sought James’s help on the matter, really only because she’d pointed out that anyone with rudimentary skills could get past them. He didn’t want just anyone going into his house, even if there wasn’t that much to see.
That was a very Maeve answer--giving him far more information than he’d asked for and then trailing off at the end letting him jump to conclusions--so frustrating. Ah, but she had a point though. Except…”It’s not as if you haven’t been in my house without knocking. You just happened to be home.”
Actually though. He supposed he did have a question. “Do you not have wards?” It felt like there had been but there’d been no repercussions to walking right through.
This time she did reach out to poke him with her foot, “You're full of somethin’ that's for damn sure.” Why did she tell him that shit? Briar never spoke of her blood relations except her mother. It was equally for the comfort of others as it was for her. No one liked other people's sob stories unless they could be wrapped up in a neat two hour bow with a happy ending.
If that was meant to bother her then he failed, she only gave him her fox's grin and wiggled her fingers at him, “Thief. It's sort of my thing. Besides, I never burst in angry. I also stopped when you had James put up those charming wards.” Because unlike her own, his didn't recognize her and she took the hint.
Did she not have wards? Boy, he really needed to work on his senses, maybe that deal would be worth it after all. Or was it just that one of her few gifts was better than his in that respect? “Hmm, you're adorable.” Her hand extended, palm flat against the wall, sliding against the familiar not quite smooth texture before knocking twice with one knuckle, pausing and once more. Her Wards flared to life around them, a swirling display of runes, Kanji and sanskrit that seemed to slither across the floor underneathe them and across the ceiling. The resonation of so many unique magics and signatures was one of the reasons her property was isolated, it felt like a comforting hum in her bones but it traveled across her property like lava, and was equally as deadly to trespassers. It spoke of fierce protectiveness, the smell of citrus filling the air as several art pieces that were really hand crafted talismans glowed on the wall and the shelves, lines tracing across them as they pulsed with life. Her hand pressed to the wall again and the light show stopped, though the hum and the scent lingered. Finally, on the bookshelf across from them, a statue of bast that was actually a human security system scanned the room with a red sweep, beeped once and was quiet.
“My house knows you, Fírinne.” Quiet, and to the point, with little to color her voice about why or how she wanted him to feel about that.
“Hmm,” he murmured, a soft laugh on the tail end of it. Something indeed.
It was funny to think that he’d burst in angry when at the moment he was so… Not. Just drained, really. “Well, congratulations on making me that angry, I don’t think I can remember the last time anyone accomplished such a thing.” Really though, it was an impressive accomplishment. He generally prided himself on being fairly level headed--not to the point where it was cold and creepy like his father, but you know, rational for the most part--so getting wound up enough to stomp out of his house in the middle of the night to follow anyone straight into their home was way out of his normal behavior. “To be fair though, you’re the one who suggested I needed better wards.” They weren’t specifically for her, though that was in the back of his mind, and was the easiest explanation to give James when he asked about them.
And even with that knowledge, the other man had still asked Maeve on a date, so. Apparently the fact that Julius was worried about her stealing his good booze meant nothing.
Well what in Oberon’s name did she need his books for if she could whip up something like that? How incredibly fascinating. And there was that citrus smell again that he could now link to all five of them in varying degrees. So many layers. So cagey. But. Oh.
“Why?” He asked, because he wasn’t sure how he felt about that either.
That sort of backhanded congratulations shouldn’t have made her feel an odd bit of pride but it did, but more than that it calmed her down a bit. Made her feel that they were on more even ground than she had realized. It hadn’t occurred to her that she could get under his skin the same he had gotten under her own, except as Mieke obviously, but that wasn’t the point. Her eyes were settled on the statue of bast, resolute and stubborn when she dangled her foot over the chasm, “I dodged your question about opening up to James like an oyster. I feel so burnt out right now I think I can give you an actual answer without convulsing.” It was an offer, but worded in such a way that he couldn’t try and make it one of her questions, careful to avoid do you still want to know and the like. It was also the only peace offering he was getting for storming out of his house and dragging him to her’s for the need for, what? Closure?
“I did. I worry about you.” Even if Julius took less outright risky jobs than she did and had better control over his mouth (most the time), surely he had still pissed off a number of people on his own. That and comparatively, she assumed he knew so much less on defending himself against non-human opponents. Always five plans deep and most of them just had worse and worse turns, that was her.
Ah. Of course he would ask. One of her hands reached up to fuck with her curls, resting her elbow on his chair so her hands could flex in her own hair, belying tension and twitchiness, the impulse to do something rash coming back in erratic surges, “It seemed prudent.” It wasn’t as much of an answer that she could have given, but yet it was still an honest one.
His mind went back to that conversation. Did he really want to know, or had that just been a jab at her for being difficult? In the end, Julius reasoned that it was probably wise to just take whatever answers to questions he could get out of her and be happy with them, because they didn’t happen all that frequently. “Alright, why then?”
She was probably right about that, but he had the hope of an optimist that he wouldn’t need so much protection from other people in a sanctuary city. Perhaps that was naive, but it felt better than being cynical. There’d been a time--ages ago--when he hadn’t always worried about locking his door if he was in a particularly safe, quiet place (not in a big city mind you) and Summerview had reminded him, upon first glance, of those quieter, safer spaces in time and space. Not everything had to be so serious. “Well I took your advice, so worry less.” He’d taken perfectly good care of himself, hadn’t he? Considering where he’d been and what he’d been through, he’d done alright with and without her help.
Hmm. Not much of an answer, though he supposed he shouldn’t have expected to be so lucky. “That’s a boring answer.”
Summerview was making her soft. James knew how old he was and an idea of her abilities, and here she was about to tell Julius why she was so dodgy to him specifically almost instinctively, really. It was something she had realized months ago, because as terrible as she was at deep interpersonal relationships she liked to think she was fairly good at self examination. Not that always put it to good use. But when you reshape yourself so many times you have to understand and have a firm grip on the original to come back to it. “Usually I’m good at keeping a muffled wall between me and other people and my emotions. I have to, in order to do what I do, see what I’ve seen. But not with you. I feel things too sharp.” Too much, positive emotions and negative ones, “James makes me happy, yes. I am fond of him. Even if he had all the weapons against me in the world though they still wouldn’t do him as much good.” As they did for Julius, who clearly didn’t need extra weapons.
Yes, well. It was what it was, sometimes it really was about practicality at the end of the day. Briar stood, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her dress as she did so, “I like to have backup plans. I needed someone I trust in town for some of them.” That was all that needed to be said, because him just showing up was genuinely not in any of them. The coffee table might look out of place, hell, half the decorations and furniture looked slightly out of place, and this one was a converted old oak trunk. She moved to it, taking coasters and a few novels off the top so she could kneel down and open it up, “Two questions, hm.” Off handedly considering it in light of their current circumstances.
From the trunk she pulled out a Dominican cigar box, popping it open to reveal a stack of passports.
Thoughts swam as he attempted to process that. Essentially what he gathered was… That he made her feel… Things? Sharply? And that was her reasoning? Damn it all, that wasn’t much of an answer either, but he was too tired to fight with it even if he was dying to know what exactly she was feeling so sharply and why. Or simply call her out on the fact that she was basically hiding from her emotions. Instead he nodded. “Well, James is good people, can’t say I blame you.” He was in all likelihood, far easier to talk to than Julius, especially with all their baggage, which was now (thankfully?) out in the open.
“So what you’re saying is, you need me to housesit?” Lovely.
Julius yawned, back to being exhausted. Tomorrow he needed to go see Marie. Or. Well, Later today. At a normal hour. If he was going to be in a mood for however long, she deserved to know why. “You’re welcome to hold onto them until you have something you actually want to ask,” he pointed out as a helpful hint. He was sort of aching to be back in his own bed now that they were no longer at each other's throats. “Maybe you’ll think of something in Thailand.”
“Hmm. He’s not you, or Adelaide, but I’ve been to that show already. No encores.” No more breakdowns and someone a little too good at prying off her shell and making her feel shit she didn’t want. Like jealousy or a protective rage. And definitely no curling up in a ball of heartbreak at the bottom of a shipping freighter bound for another continent. In retrospect, maybe that was why Sebastian was so nonchalant about taking a pair of claws to his guts, because waking up with two blurry days under his belt in a filthy mexican bar wasn’t enough.
Briar rolled her eyes, “No. Tulip’s goddaughter just moved to town. She might look after the place if I decide to stay gone awhile.” Not that she really expected it to need looking after, she had no plants, no pets.
Ah, he wasn’t that lucky. The passports were counted, opened up and glanced at before being set aside in different piles, but it didn’t stop her from casting eyes at him, casting judgement as she usually did and gauging his reactions, “Oh, now it’s okay if I fuck off to Thailand, I see. The shine being gone helps, I’m sure.” It was what she expected, and she was more amused than anything at this point. A little glad she didn’t just to justify her walkabout. It still wasn’t a question, because she wouldn’t put it past him to count one she didn’t intend as one of her two. “One now, one for later. Why did seeing that I kept the flower all this time shake you so deeply, Julius?”
Here he could have argued that there hadn’t ever really been a “show” as far as the two of them were concerned. Cameos, maybe. Walk-on roles. Guest appearances at best. This was the longest stretch of time they’d invaded one another’s lives. It seemed rather preemptive to jump to no encores when there hadn’t been anything real to begin with. Unless she was hiding a secret personality he never knew about. But no, he’d run out of people from his past he’d had strong connections with, and he was 90% certain those other people were dead and gone. And none of them smelled like Summerland fruit. “I’m not sure what to make of that,” he said after a moment, a weary tinge to his voice. “Good for him, I suppose. Good for you?”
“Ah,” he said, not sure why that made him uneasy--possibly because it was Tulip’s goddaughter and not… Oh, Maeve’s. Certainly better than if it had been Mieke’s though. Small favors.
Julius dragged his hand over his face and leaned forward in the chair, preparing for the question, and when it finally emerged, it was… A weird one. How to answer that… “Well I guess, first and foremost, I’m sure you can appreciate that this has been a very trying… however many hours, which certainly didn’t help with the shock factor.” He chewed at his lip trying to put it into words. “You know I have opinions on flowers, specifically that it’s not my favorite gift to call attention to, it’s rather useless, honestly. Flowers are impermanent, outside from being used from poisons or potions or perfumes are not particularly useful, but I gave that one to Yukio--or rather, I gave a handful of them to Yukio, because I wanted her to feel appreciated. And I assume, considering you’ve kept it all this time, it had the desired effect. And… After a day of useless flowers born out of anger, it was jarring to see the only one that wasn’t.” Yes, that about summed it up.
Maybe because they were speaking of Yukio, or because the flower seemed to be lighting up almost at the proximity to it’s maker, but when she stood she found that it was exactly as she would have in Japan with that grace that never spilled a drop of tea. In her defense, it worked out with the dress too. “I hope so. I don’t want to hurt him. He asked me about her, you know. Asked why I came to Mexico from Australia. I didn’t say I left because I thought people like me didn’t deserve people like her.” There was genuine regret in her tone, like a mother who didn’t want to explain why dad never came around, even if they knew the unfortunate truth would come out eventually. Another sigh, and she rubbed at her eyes much like he did earlier, “You’ll get it eventually, Julius. But you won’t believe me if I lead you there.”
Two of the passports were kept out, the rest stacked neatly back in the trunk so she could shut it, and the items that were on it before were placed back on in the exact spots they were in before. She didn’t interrupt him, though she did watch him, taking in every twitch and change of expression. His words hung between them for a long moment, and she stood in her flower dress with his creation behind her, watching and wondering how she had gotten into this mess with this perplexing creature. “It did. You were — it meant a lot.” And Yukio’s smile, that one she had given him in the garden, unsure but genuinely happy, looked out of place on Briar’s features, too used to snarls and hungry smirks, stretched across her face as she bent her head down.
“Let me grab my bag and I’ll walk you out, yeah? You look like you’re about to pass out again and I don’t have a guest room.” Fondness in her voice as she held out her hand to help him out of the chair. It was probably a bad sign that she set aside her anger at him so easily, especially at barging into her house, once she was given reason to worry about him. But perhaps her walkabout will help. Briar was a bit too old and worldly to make a fool out of herself, “Yukio gave me permission to be her. The real Yukio. In return for my help in running away from her husband to be with a dashing Frenchman.”
Julius sighed, shaking his head. “Most of us come with baggage attached, Briar. It’s not a contest, and you don’t get to decide if it’s too much for someone else. Let other people make decisions for once. You’re not protecting anyone by telling only half the story. That only hurts more.” And he’d know.
“Mission accomplished then,” he said quietly, a soft smile peeking through the weariness on his face. At least some good came out of all this. He’d at least managed to do one nice, worthwhile thing for her.
Of course that meant she’d most definitely gotten her hands on that mask, but that was neither here nor there. It was so long ago.
He felt like he was going to pass out again. Feeling wobbly as a foal on new legs, he allowed her to help him up from the chair, letting her hand go once he was up to stretch his arms over his head, shoulders popping in the process. “I’d rather sleep in my own bed anyway.” It was the truth. It was always easier. “Are all of them like that, or did you make the rest up?”
Briar had half a mind to argue with him, but instead only snapped her mouth shut, because she was the one who said her self-loathing wasn’t the matter at hand wasn’t she? So she just ran a hand through her hair, thought of the present, of James’ grin and and listening to his heart while watching movies. Of the past too, being spotted across the room and a sense of comfort she couldn’t properly quantify or prevent.
“Careful, I might tell your employees you’ve got a soft side.” She teased, trying to get back to steady ground before they parted ways for an unknown amount of time. Was their familiar ground fighting? Or was it something else? She wasn’t sure, and it was likely to be forever altered now.
She left him for a moment, trusting him that if he was going to be nosy then he would be smart enough to not break anything in the process. It didn’t take long for her to return with some comfortable flats on her feet, a pair of high fashion heels in her hands and a waterproof bag over her shoulder about the size of the average carry on. As she walked back down the hall she turned lights off behind her, fingertips skimming over walls and decorations just as she did in Julius and James’ homes, learning the textures and verifying how real they were, even if they were her own.
“C’mon Pretty, are you going to make the walk? I can have my ride drop you off.” Another statue was opened up for her to pull a singular key out, opening up the door into the cool morning air, gesturing for him to follow, “And in answer to your question, most of mine are made up. All the ones you met except Yukio were from scratch.”
Probably better not to. He was too tired now to have even the tiniest control over the flowers, so even the slightest argument might have had daisies popping up where they shouldn’t. “That’s alright, as long as you don’t tell the Front of House manager. I don’t mind if the rest know.” Honestly, they probably did already. He wasn’t exactly menacing or anything.
“I can walk.” He needed the walk really. Being cooped up in a small vehicle at this point--even for such a short ride--didn’t sound like a thing he wanted to put himself through at the moment. No the fresh air would do him good. “So all you, but… With a twist?”
The front door was shut behind them, and a muffle beep could be heard through the wood as the wards flared for only a second, sealing it anew. It wouldn’t open for anyone but him or Oksana now, and there was something deeply comforting about that.
It felt...Almost relaxing to talk about it? Actually? The only other person she had explained it to in depth was Oksana, although she had gotten a different explanation. Her magic was different, Julius’s was closer to her’s for obvious reasons, so he had a different base of understanding to work from. “Sure. They are all me, but sort of...Sharpened? For the situation. It wouldn’t work if it wasn’t my personality but just with certain parts emphasized depending on the circumstance. I couldn’t invest if it was all fake.” Briar started down the path, keeping an eye on him and not walking too fast. Her mood was up, after all, she was about to go travelling, this was her element.
That and picking locks.
“Yukio may have taught me to be Japanese, but the personality — the sneaking out to the theater, the stargazing, that was me.” Oh, and didn’t Japan have both of those in spades, wonderful sights, layers and smells, there were many bad things she could say about her almost-home, but just as many wonderful ones. The road leading down to her driveway was gravel, but the side wasn’t so bad to walk on at least, a row of flagstone because she often did this in heels or barefoot. Suddenly she grinned at him, elbowing him lightly in the side, “Hey for the last thing you’ll hear from me for who knows how long, do you want to her a parable she told me?”
Sounded like a lot of work to Julius, too much to keep straight. He understood the concept of playing a character for a short time--which honestly wasn’t so far off, you had to find a nugget of yourself in that person you were portraying in order to make them believable--but at the end of the day, you got to take off the stage makeup and go home and be yourself. It was why he’d been Julius Fírinne since 1812. Easier. Clean cut. He always went to bed and woke up the same person. But he nodded anyway, because while he didn’t agree with it necessarily, it made sense.
“I’m not sure if I’d have liked the real Yukio as much without the rebellious streak,” he admitted.
That sounded sort of ominous didn’t it? But at least he wasn’t the one leaving this time. Couldn’t hold that against him anymore. Thank Oberon. “Yeah, alright.”
Here she was regretting that she had slipped up and been so obvious with the fact that she had some night activities, or at least, the her then did, because he had caught on so easily. Now though, it was kind of nice to be remembered.
Briar hummed as she gazed upwards at the moon that was nearly full, “Let’s see if I can do this in English,” She gave him an apologetic smile as if asking for him to forgive her for any stumbles that may be coming, “In the Kabuki theater there are dozens of artisans that work behind the scenes, one of the most highly sought after are —” Ah, no, she didn’t know the word in English, “Seamstresses? Designers? And there was a girl studying among them.”
It actually didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl, but parables were usually like that. That was the beauty of them, wasn’t it? “Her name was Asuka, and she wanted to travel and have her work shown before the Emperor, to see her work on stage. She met another, older artisan, his name was Rui, and he was more talented than her. His hands moved like water, swift and with ideas of his own but the ability to mimic the old ways too. She wanted to learn from him.” In her mind she saw Yukio telling her this story like her father had told her as they sat in a parlour in Paris, drinking tea and munching on candied fruit. Such a sharp contrast to the dark, dusty road the were walking on.
“But then a highly respected group within the company approached her. Said they saw potential. She could study with them instead, work on their shows, surely be seen by the elites and have access to the best things. But she would have to give up studying under Rui, or being his friend.” In the distance she could see headlights, though she knew they wouldn’t turn their fancy cadillac down this road.
It was strange, being told a story in the middle of the night--or the wee hours of the morning--like a bedtime story but without being tucked in or comfortable or even warm really. Already this seemed like a sad story, but he nodded along until she came to that last bit. He frowned.
“This sounds like a terrible story. What happens then?”
She kicked a tiny rock that had made its way onto her carefully laid flagstone, watching it as it tumbled into the darkness of the road off towards the trees that surrounded her property. She felt it when they stepped off, where her magic and the signatures of the others who had helped her build her safety net stopped.
Ah, there it was, just what she was waiting for. Briar glanced up at him with a knowing smile, “Yukio told me, as her father told her, that what she choose wasn’t as important as the fact that she had a choice.” They reached the end of her road, where she could step onto the sidewalk and wave to her ride in the cadillac with the tinted windows. This was a side street, and the nearest street lamp was a decent distance away, but the car behind her had it’s lights on that illuminated him in a rather strange way as she stood in front of him. A deep breath and she reached up to the his temples so she could tilt his head down, standing up on her toes to place a kiss on the tip of his nose with a laugh, “I’ll be seeing you, Julius.”
“That was... Entirely unsatisfying.” Wasn’t that just… Totally expected though? If anything, that was their familiar ground. Expecting 0ne thing and then getting another and realizing after the fact that you should have expected what you’d gotten and it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. “What a dreary note to end on.” He rolled his eyes. Obviously she had a choice. Everything was a choice.
Ridiculous.
Almost as ridiculous as a kiss on the nose as a parting gift for a trip of undisclosed length. Again though. Probably something he should have expected. “Take care of yourself Briar. Get back in one piece.”