ᴡᴇ ᴘɪʟʟᴀɢᴇ, ᴡᴇ (plunder) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-08-09 18:49:00 |
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Finally, the last of her boxes were packed. For an urban gypsy who had used her vehicle as storage for her most precious cargo, Kenzi had stuff. Lots of it. Suitcases of clothes and shoes, accessories and hair extensions, cosmetics and additional crafts for customizing merchandise. Yet the boxes filled to the point that one might think she’d actually been packing for an entire apartment but, y’know. Confessions of a shopaholic, or whatever. It was a good step for her brother, though - shacking up with his boobalicious queen, taking the next step in their relationship. Having the offer extended to her too was a bit of a surprise but she accepted it, since it wasn’t time for her and her heart-sharing brother to part ways. Not yet. One day she’d extend her own wings and leave the nest, but she still wanted to enjoy time with him while nothing else pulled her away. Converting the houseboat into an office was going smoothly, though - she was gonna miss the hell out of living here, but at least she’d still get to be in it often. “I got a frame for your license, by the way,” Kenzi brought up, plopped on the edge of the desk with a slender box in her hands. That flawlessly sleek hair was styled into a high ponytail, streaks of indigo in it, and she’d worn black jeans with the underworldly heels that’d been bestowed as a gift. “It’ll look super snazzy hanging up, y’know? Gotta show off how legit you are.” Killian was a bit of a vagabond himself, but he had far less boxes to fill - mainly because, despite his penchant for not staying in one place for long like some true pirate, he just didn’t have much to his name. He didn’t collect knickknacks, wasn’t sentimental, often got by with the bare bones in terms of furnished flats and nothing more. Certainly nothing extravagant. But he didn’t mind helping Kenzi pack and schlep stuff to the house in Garden Grove which would become a home for all of them - mostly, he was just glad that she’d accepted the offer to move in. He’d brought enough old newspapers and packing tape to wrap the last of the fragile things, and was in the process of clearing out the living room - the nautical theme would remain, the antique-looking furniture and the ship lanterns. But Kenzi’s suggestion of getting a sign for the door was also something he put on his ‘to-do’ list. This was their business, it had to look the part. “Did you now?” Killian set down the old rum bottle, made of green glass, that had been a find given to him by Robin. He hoped she was happy out there, traveling. “I suppose I ought to display it.” There was a card for his wallet, the laminated plastic proof of his legality, and then the certificate that looked all signed and official - which was what he’d hang up, obviously. “Never thought I’d have a fancy piece of paper to put on the wall.” Kenzi’s grin was an interesting combo of proud and playful, and unwrapped the frame from its bubble-wrapped confinement. No glitter there, either - it was black with glass, very ‘I am smart and this is a business’ looking. “Hey, you gotta show peeps you’re the real deal, you know?” Most professionals had their credentials hanging up somewhere, either to show their authenticity or to show off. Maybe both?? Killian had the right to show off - little sister was super proud. “It matches your nifty business card holder, too,” she went on, waggling her eyebrows. Kenzi wasn’t a licensed anything for the moment, but she was going to make sure Bubba Jones had all the tools of the trade and thensome. And help, of course, in any way possible - she was patiently waiting for the day a job required her to pull out her wigs and disguises to infiltrate something or another. Fingers crossed. “This is like, I don’t know - the equivalent of watching you get your diploma or something.” Making precious moments with Big Bro, aww. “I think the fact that everything matches makes it extra professional,” Killian chuckled, with a glance at the business card holder on the nautical, map-inlaid desk. That was one of his most prized possessions now, admittedly. But he opened the drawer and found his official certificate, popping off the tab things on the back of the frame to remove the cardboard backing and slide the paper in. Now where would this go? Hm. Perhaps near the ship’s wheel clock, right when you walked in - it was at a good vantage point. “I’ve got travel plans, to head to Chicago soon,” he went on, stepping back to admire the frame and what was in it. “For work, and because Henry wants to go to some comic thing - but one of the days, at least, you could come with me and do some scouting?” Meaning, yes, it was perhaps time to put on the wig and do some infiltrating. Honestly, Killian had been waiting for the day too. He wasn’t too worried about mixing business with family time either - the more unsavoury aspects, Regina would keep Henry away from those. Then he could sleep while everyone else ran about dressed as superheroes. Whaaaaaaat. “You mean a comic convention?!” Kenzi wanted to go! The San Diego one passed - and one day she’d attend, one day - but she knew about the smaller ones popping up in different cities and gaining momentum in popularity. It’d be like Henry to beg to go, and it’d be like Kenzi to tag along and nerd out about random shit. “Uh, that’s a big duh to all that, Bubba. I’ve never been to the Gotham City of the Batman films.” It was supposed to be windy and chilly, wasn’t it? It’s cool - she came from a country that was all about wind and chill and being tits deep in an avalanche of snow. It’d be a nice break from the dryness and blistering heat of SoCal. “How soon, though?” she went on to inquire, digging up the sleeve of her shirt to dig her nails into her right arm and scratch, like she had a flea problem. “I told Bo I’d go help with some wedding details but that can be re-arranged if anything - this maid of honor can totes multitask.” Yes, Chicago was a place with actual seasons, somewhat - and autumn was just around the corner. Killian had been a couple of times, for work purposes, and found it an intriguing place - apparently the nickname ‘Windy City’ had nothing to do with actual wind, yet you couldn’t walk a block down the street without seeing discarded, mangled umbrellas stuffed into rubbish bins by people who hadn’t invested in hardier versions. “The comic con or whatever it’s called is 18th August, so around then? It’ll be good. Last time I went, I learned that zimne piwo is Polish for ‘cold beer.’ There are a lot of - what the fuck is wrong with you?” Killian interrupted himself, glancing over his shoulder from where he’d been hanging the certificate, when he saw that his sister suddenly had been attacked by mites. Or something. It didn’t look good, whatever it was. He also knew enough about rashes and other such grossness to tell her, “Don’t bloody well scratch, it’ll make it worse. Put an ice pack on it.” Welp, that was an outburst that oozed sibling love, didn’t it? Kenzi visibly deflated at his words with an inaudible grumble, rolling her sleeve up a bit more - her forearm looked inflamed and red, with temporary white streaks from the path of her nails. “I need to put some anti-itch goop on it, but fiiiiiine, I’ll get some ice.” There was some still stashed in the freezer too, and while the kitchen wouldn’t serve as an every-day functional use it was still good to have in an office - especially if the duo were confined in these houseboat walls working on something for the majority of the day. Grab a ziplock bag, put a couple ice cubes in it, and voila. Ghetto ice pack. Anti-itch goop was with the rest of her toiletries back at Regina’s, but she’d get to it. It seemed to work in the dreams anyway, even if it didn’t exactly cure…whatever it was. Kenzi had her suspicions, but she didn’t know whether they were grim or something she should be excited about. “Can I tell you something that I can’t...really tell Bo?” Ice would help in the meantime, until Kenzi could get to her anti-itch goop. He didn’t have any here, unfortunately, not in the mess of boxes and still arranging the office - and he assumed she meant the generic OTC stuff you could get at any chemist. All he knew was that the rash better not be syphilis - hopefully it wasn’t that though. He’d have to take his sis to the doctor and get her some lovely penicillin. Shouldn’t be. No. It was something else entirely? His extensive background check and snooping had yielded the result that Birkhoff was clean, in regards to genitals. So he shouldn’t be giving Mini-Pirate any STI’s. Anyway, yes, alright. Back to business. Killian grabbed a rag and some furniture polish, to give the place a quick clean now that the packing and unpacking dust had settled. “‘Course you can. What would you like to tell me?” Guhhhh. Ice felt weird, and it made her realize how warm the inflation had felt. “Ummm,” she began with such eloquence and winced with one eye. “So remember when I had that dream about taking a chainsaw to that sentient tree to get someone’s love-in-a-bottle back?” It was a proud moment for Kenzi. Fae laws were stupid, and no one wanted to challenge the hag that was the Norn when it came to anything but it was a good thing she wasn’t one of their kind in this scenario, huh? It meant she had no reason not to purchase a goddamn power tool, break down her door with it and make the bitch bleed by giving that trunk she was connected to a good few whacks of a vibrating saw. But, throughout it, there was an oops. “One of the old bitch’s bottles spilled on my arm. This arm. Same spot.” For a second the ice was removed, and the skin, while there was clearly something wrong with it, didn’t look too out of the ordinary. No blisters or warts, no creepy scales, nothin’. Just irritated flesh. “Honestly, it was fine after I got it off but then after that fight with the big baddie, it started to burn and itch. In dreams and here. The Norn said I’d received a ‘gift,’ though? So maybe I’m due for super powers, I don’t know. I haven’t told Bo yet, in either version. She’s got a lot of crap going on and is in her own little world, you know?” Meaning if it wasn’t serious yet, then it was alright for the succubus to be in the dark about it for now. Considering the very recent ‘blast from the past’ that ended up in a brawl in an alley, and her engagement? It could wait. Well, at the very least, Killian was glad it wasn’t syphilis. The bad news? It sounded like some ominous dream brouhaha that wouldn’t lead to anything good - as was the standard around here. Fantastic. “So, essentially, it’s a mysterious potion that causes itching and burning - anything that itches and burns, Sharkbait, I doubt it’s going to be a gift you want,” he pointed out. The rag dropped, he stepped over to take a look at Kenzi’s arm, holding it and examining the cherry-red rash. If it were him, no doubt he’d be trying to scratch with his hook and probably taking a layer of skin off, but he wouldn’t let his own sister be that daft. “Should we try to heal it first?” the Captain asked. “Maybe Gigi has a potion to counteract or some such. I won’t mention it to Bo either though.” Oh, poo. Put it in perspective, why don’t you, Bubba? In truth it was best that he did, anyway - she’d been so in denial about it in the dreams, convinced that slapping some ointment on it found at a regular convenience store would do away with it. And it sort of worked, at least in relieving the symptoms. But there was so much crap to worry about over there, why make an uproar about a rash? Here, at least it was different. Mostly. “Gigi sounds so weird coming from you,” Kenzi snickered. “But worth a try anyway. Nothing’s happened with it yet in the dreams, so no news is sort of good news on that front. But if I end up hospitalized again and bleeding everywhere, just put me out of my misery. I can’t with this place, I just can’t.” Killian smirked in response - no, he didn’t usually call his beloved Gigi, but sometimes it just slipped past those dastardly lips. “I doubt lightning will strike in the same place twice. Unless it’s that basilisk’s mum out for revenge.” And yet a rash seemed so different than mysterious eye-bleeding disease. Which sort of brought up the notion that... “Your dreams are incredibly bizarre, and biased against those who happen to be regular old humans,” he stated dryly. Or at least, it seemed that way to him. For someone who was a plain vanilla human himself, having to rely on survival instincts and his cunning nature - most of the time, anyway, when he wasn’t tethered to old dark magic - it was sort of annoying. No, it was really annoying. But fine, he made a mental note to see if Regina could help. He doubted she would have anything that could hurt, so it really was worth a shot. Kenzi had to kinda imagine the basilisk mommy being like some kind of super-agitated Gyarados protecting its pathetic Magi--okay, enough of the Pokemon Go thoughts. Seriously. “Tell me about it,” she rolled those arctic eyes, plopping the ziplock of ice right back onto her arm. “The only other human involved is a doctor, but her saving grace is that she’s legitimately a fae doctor - it gives her value. And protection.” Add a little dash of science into that supernatural race of humanoids, why not? Lauren had the brains they needed, all Kenzi had were her badly timed jokes and her wigs. And mafia connections, she guessed. “But, whatevz, you know?” It’ll all work out someway or another, whether in her favor or not. If it could be cured, awesome. If not, she’d have to see what path the dreams threw her on as things went. “How’s the shacking up going, anyhow? You and Queenie, living the domestic life.” She wasn’t home too often; mostly out and about with some friends, or at Birkhoff’s, but that also typically ran true when it was just her and him under one roof. “You’re valuable too, I don’t care what they think,” spoke the sassy pirate - and perhaps he was biased toward his own kinfolk too, but it was complete rubbish how overlooked and brushed aside she was there sometimes. As long as Kenzi knew that he appreciated her, that was what mattered. Plopping on the sofa to take a break (and sink into the cushions), he would just sit here a moment and revel how professional this place looked. Less mismatched and like a drunken sailor lived here, more like a legitimate business. They should be proud of themselves. “It’s actually something we’ve fallen into well enough,” he said about the whole ‘shacking up’ process. “Not something I would have imagined myself doing but life has a way of turning shite on its head. And it’s better this way, especially if the situation with Zelena pans out. Regina’s sister - she’s pregnant, like she was in the dreams only this time the circumstances seem far less creepy, and we’re waiting to see if she gives the baby up for adoption.” Yes. Even just mentioning that again, kind of put a twist into his stomach. Nerves, that felt hot and cold simultaneously. It was almost like being impaled with a sword again. He sort of hoped that Kenzi would take to being an auntie too, if it happened - they didn’t need to be up each other’s bums to be a family, but he liked her living at the house and he would want her to be a part of the little girl’s life too. Barf, Big Bro. Just…barf. But the sentiment was totes appreciated, anyway - she didn’t have the insecure feeling of being an outsider in this life anyway, and she felt like she was...home. Home, of course, being a pirate that had her blood and also half her heart. Birkhoff and Bo, they were important too of course, though Killian just haaaad to be special for being related to her, didn’t he? Call it family perks. Kenzi was happy to know that things were going well in the love-department for him, though. He deserved it, they were an odd but perfect match, and - Wait. Come again? “Like, a baby,” she echoed, just making sure that she heard right. “A legit baby with two eyes and two arms and two legs that poops a lot?” A baby that’d call her brother ‘daddy’ at some point?? Was this real life? Because in real life, Sharkbait had let out a kind of excitable noise worthy of paralyzing even the most foul of beasts. “I’M GOING TO BE AN AUNT?” Okay, so, yeah, she heard about Greenie and that entire fucked up mess of getting knocked up by Robin Hood (because he was an idiot and couldn’t tell it wasn’t his wife) and all that fun stuff, and who caaaaaaared how all that worked out here because - well, adoption meant finality and that the little baby thing would be Killian and Gigi’s to parent? Oh. Em. Gee. “Aye,” Killian confirmed his sister’s outburst, grinning crookedly, but tacked on there as a disclaimer, “If it all falls into place. She’s hoping it will, and so am I. I’m guessing you’re excited about it?” Didn’t take a genius, but still. He was pleased with the reaction - there were indeed perks when it came to his only remaining familial relationship. After all, the heart of the one he loved the most, her heart, was the only thing which could have kickstarted that Dark Curse. Now they were sharing a heart, a soul, however one wanted to look at it, but that sort of leant way to its own set of perks. “And looking forward to changing nappies?” Just checking. “Now that,” she began, erecting her finger into the air - the burning sensation on her forearm was infinitely forgotten and replaced by the sheer excitement of this news. “Is a trick question, Bubba.” Meaning, she also had no idea how to even change ‘nappies’ but there was a first time for everything, right? Kenzi plopped onto the sofa next to him and gave a congratulatory punch to his arm. “But this is--geez, Killy. This is huge news. This is the life-changing kind of stuff. Is it a boy? A girl? Do you guys have names? Did the baby have a name in the dreams?? I need details, so many details.” It also meant she was in for a lot of fashion shopping, baby-size. To be fair, Killian also wasn’t an expert at changing nappies - he’d been getting more and more practise, because of Niko, and he supposed it was just one of those things that you eventually learned to do on autopilot. “Girl,” he said, answering Kenzi’s question. “She was a girl in the dreams too. I believe Zelena named her after her deceased father, Robin - “ Whom she tricked in the worst way to get pregnant, but speaking of that would ruin the happy mood. “So I doubt we’d go with that here.” Naming a child after a dream lover of his current lover was also awkward - middle name, perhaps, he’d compromise. It wasn’t like he was denying how important Robin was to Regina, or that they’d loved each other once upon a time. He just didn’t want to have a child called that. “There’s still a few weeks before we know anything. I think we’re going to clean out the spare work room now, just in case though,” he said. Being prepared wasn’t a bad idea. They would technically have a little amount of time to furnish a room, but an interior designer could make that work. Killian wasn’t too concerned. Kenzi thought it’d be kinda weird, too, naming the kid after him. Considering the context of it all, anyway. But a giiiiiiirl! All the clothing possibilities were endless - and sure, he did emphasize on ‘if things fall into place’ but if they didn’t get this damn baby then she’d just steal her for them. Cool plan, right? “Well,” she began, scrunching her nose in thought. Preparing for a baby was kind of a process, wasn’t it? Like, a lot of money went into getting those much-needed contraptions. Strollers, cribs, car seats. “Let me know when you guys get the definite yes, then? Immediately, I mean - you guys pick out a crib, I’ll buy it.” It didn’t matter how much - if she had to pull off a diamond from those studded shoes Birkhoff had bought her as a ‘thanks for not dying’ gift, she’d do it. This was her soon-to-be niece. Aunt Kenzi would take this seriously. Good lord, an actual diamond from one pair of those prized shoes? Killian would have shat himself with surprise, truly. “That’s bloody adorable, I think I’m all choked up,” he snickered, but tossed an arm around his sibling and mussed her hair the way brothers do - after placating her with a kiss to the temple, of course. “I’ll let you know though, and if you’d like to get the crib by all means. You buy it, your paramour can put it together.” Seemed fun, didn’t it? Oh, fine, Killian supposed he’d help too. It was probably a highly advanced, two-person job. Just not IKEA, Sharkbait. Those instructions didn’t even have words on them. “Oh, puh-leaaaaaaaaaase,” began the mini-pirate dryly, wrapping an arm around his mid-section for a squeeeeeeeeeeeze. “You can’t skimp out on putting together a crib for your future kid, bro. That’s a rite of fatherly passage.” Kenzi wasn’t anything near an engineering wizard; she’d happily buy it, but putting it together? Not so much. Was there a magic trick that do the job? Worth asking! Then there was a dramatic sigh, though the grin she wore betrayed it. “I feel like one of those Facebook memes right now - friends are getting married, family is having babies, and here I am, three hundred candies away from evolving Magikarp into a Gyarados on Pokemon Go.” No doubt that Killian would revel in putting a crib together - he was stubborn enough to do it one-handed and blindfolded, even. Just to prove that he’d conquer any fatherly rite of passage when it came to setting up the nursery, and beyond. In fact, so paranoid he’d be about fucking up somehow he might even be hesitant to hold the little sprog at first. But would melt quickly - no doubt she’d be cute as a button. “When it’s the time right, you’ll have your own marriage and babies,” he scoffed teasingly. “And then Pokemon - “ It sounded so odd, with the word wrapped around that accent, “...will be nothing but a distant memory.” He could hold out hope for the concept of the right time, anyway, and not an accident or a drunken wedding in Vegas. Anything to keep him from having a stroke too early. “Oh, hey, not complaining,” Kenzi hurriedly said. “Not ready for the whole white-picket fence thing.” If that was even in her cards, but she wouldn’t worry about it - she was still young, and wanted to enjoy her early twenties while she was still in them before she fast forwarded to anything severely permanent. And besides, she had plenty that would eventually prepare her for it going on! Bo’s wedding, now the arrival of...baby pirate? Pirate princess? Is that what they’d call it, when the parents were a pirate and queen? It was entirely possible that Kenzi would have an arsenal of nicknames for the little niece too. Good ones will pop up, soon. Sitting up, she gave Killian a hearty slap to the knee. “Okay, we’re celebrating. With food, and some beers for the occasion?” They’d done good cutting back, and a little social ale wouldn’t do them harm. “I’ll let you pick.” Food. Beers. Magic words to Killian’s ears. He knew just the place too, a perfectly quaint-yet-rowdy medieval inspired tavern that had been recently cleared of gunky demon residue. “Sounds delicious and I’m already getting hungry. Let’s go to the Hanged Man,” he decided, returning the favour of the knee slap by using Kenzi’s knee to brace his good hand and hoist himself up. This salty sea dog was getting old and creaky, didn’t you know? Alright, not really. He’d still been spry and agile at age three-hundred; he planned to continue that tradition here despite not having that long of a lifespan. Thank the gods. “I owe Hawke a few ass grabs anyway.” Plus, he wanted to try out the pub fare - but mostly the ass grabs, Killian had priorities. Sounded good to her! Plus, she’d get a wind to see if any of the dancers at the Rear End needed some sparkly ware. As for the ass grabs, though… Kenzi raised her hands up in surrender. “Hey. Whatever you squeeze with your hands is your business. Godspeed, Bubba. Godspeed.” |