edward-forsyth-blog

[edward-forsyth-blog]

lou-navarro‌:

The past year had had its ups and downs. Fear, anxiety, chaos… but it also brought a lot of healing and growth for Lourdes. She began to open up, to embrace life more fully and as a result she’d allowed herself to fall deeply in love with Edward. The young witch was the happiest she had been in years, feeling strong, feeling fulfilled, feeling loved.

These days it wasn’t unusual for Lou to spend more time at Edward’s place than she did at her uncle’s house. Nestled against him the witch sketched skillfully in one of her notebooks, loving the warm feeling of her boyfriend close to her, of his fingers toying with her hair. She hummed happily as he kissed her shoulder, stopping her drawing to turn to him. “Dime, mi amor” she said, a hand going up to caress his cheek, her fingers trailing down to his chin. Her fingertips continued to dance softly under his chin as he spoke. Soon enough a smile crossed her lips as he asked her to go to Scotland with him. So much of his history was rooted to that country even though he’d been to many other places in his lifetime. It was his homeland. And he wanted to take her there. “I’d love to go” Lou replied with an excited chuckle. “I’ve never been there. Well, I’ve never even been outside of the US. And to go there with you-” she said as she lowered her hand to lace their fingers together “Nothing would make me happier”.

Feeling her hand against his chin brought softness in him, something that only those close to Edward brought out. His love for her only grew over the past year, and it still surprises him a great deal that such a woman like Lou would want to spend so much time with him. It’s because you deserve someone like her, mo phàiste, he could hear his mother say. He had been hearing her voice more often in the past few months than he had in years. Thinking of her, of his family, it hurt. But now with Lou by his side, the pain seemed to lessen.

His lips curve into a small smile when Lou says yes, his mind already a million miles away thinking of all the things he would have to do to prepare for their voyage. Get the tickets, the hotel room, that all came first. But perhaps for now, in this moment, being excited for the journey could come first. “Good, I’m glad,” he finally says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before taking her face in his hands. “Nothing would make me happier, mo ghràdh.” She had already made him perhaps the happiest man in Lethe, though some would debate otherwise. And as corny as that may sound, Edward meant it. This truly is the happiest he’s been in a long, long time. The lamia leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss against his girlfriend’s lips as his hand moves to brush a strand of hair from her face. Just like this, he thinks, letting the moment last a while longer. He wants it to be just like this forever, him and Lou. She makes him warmer, brighter, less angry at the world around him. In return he watches her grow, and God, he really could do that every day for the rest of his life. Truly, he could. “I’m nervous,” he says after a beat, after they’ve parted, and he laughs. “I’m little worried it will not be how it used to be. Well I know it will not be, but…I just hope there are more similarities than there are differences.”

[edward-forsyth-blog]

@lou-navarro

It’s been on his mind for weeks now, or perhaps months. Scotland, his home. He hadn’t been in hundreds of years, since the land had been taken by the British. Of course he’s seen pictures, read about it in papers and history books, but he wonders if it feels the same. In his mind, Edward always assumed it would, but perhaps...well, he’d only began thinking about it just months ago. The itch didn’t seen to go away, either, as hard as he tried. He kept it from Lou long enough for it to fester, long enough for him to consider bringing it up now as he sits with her back against his chest watching her draw. Lou’s hair is between his fingers and he toys with it absentmindedly as he hums. After a moment in deep thought, the lamia brushes his love’s hair back, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. “Mo ghràdh,” he murmurs against her skin, moving when she turns to look up at him. “I’ve been thinking...well, you see I’ve been thinking about my birthplace, my home. Scotland,” Edward explains, eyes searching Lou’s as he speaks. “I’ve been thinking that perhaps...it’s time to go back. To visit. I haven’t been since...well, since 1746. I think I’d like to see it now, to show you where I came from.” Perhaps this would help Lou get to know him better, and perhaps it would shed a couple layers of guilt and pain on his end as well. He hopes, at least. “How would you feel about that, Mo ghràdh? Of going to Scotland?” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

faolanmeadowes‌:

“I wondered that myself, too. It seems a lot of work to change your name, they must be quite passionate about the difference,” he agrees, shaking his head. “I have issues calling Clíodhna and Sokanon their chosen names, I don’t think either of them enjoy that fact. At this point, I’m too confused to ask if they’ve settled on these new names or if they actually like them.”  He makes a face, wondering what it is Clíodhna could have said about him. Good things, if only because she did care about him, but sprinkles of teasing no doubt and Faolan isn’t sure which ones he’ll have to dig through. “Arthur?” he repeats with confusion for a moment till he recalls the vampire has an actual name and he grunts, shaking his head. “No, she hasn’t yet, I’ve been trying to avoid the introduction. She already knows my opinions on the matter, but she’s stubborn. I’ll have to get it over with. A friend of yours, then?” Not many people call their enemies large nosed brats.

Faolan laughs. “I would have loved to be him for longer, but there were others pretending to be him before me that were much more horrid actors. I could only squeeze that time out of it,” he admits, shaking his head, omitting his reasons for choosing to do it. Their sorry attempts at an execution hadn’t been worthy enough of killing him, in his book. He dumps some of the wine into two glasses, carrying both and the bottle with him to the counter; he doesn’t know how easily the tall man gets drunk, but if he’s as old as Faolan predicts, his tolerance is also likely high. The glass pauses at his lips and he squints at him for a long moment. “Been to Scotland plenty of times, but I lived there a long while between 1637 and the early 1700s. The pub with the swan on it? No, you’re shitting me, you’re that blonde bloke, aren’t you?” he asks, setting his cup down, a snort of laughter escaping him. “I tried to do a jig on the table and kicked a cup into your lap, I distinctly recall the look on your face. The exasperation was the best I’d ever seen.”

“Must be to go through all the trouble. Me, my name means to much to me to every change it. Perhaps I’m bias,” he says with a shrug. Some people were not as attached to their given name. But for Edward, it’s all he has left of his motherland, of his family. For a moment he is confused by the name Clíodhna, though he remembers quickly. Cora had not used that name in years. “Ah, yes...I believe Cora prefers the name she has given to herself. She nearly took an eye out when I butchered her given name. Though I believe it to be for the soul fact I even figured it out.” The memory has the lamia laughing briefly before he composes himself once more. Edward nods when Faolan repeats his friend’s name, already knowing his stance on the matter. He’s well aware of Faolan’s past with vampires and he understands his hesitation. “Yes, I understand your hesitation and need for avoidance. But Arthur’s good people, he cares deeply for your sister. I trust the man with my life, I do not know if that helps in the matter.” Perhaps it would. 

Edward snaps his fingers, “ah, well then. I suppose it would have been your demise had you not left when you did.” Still, it seems an entertaining enough experience to tell many people, even if Cora uses it as a fib. As Faolan approaches with two glasses of wine, Edward takes one and nods a ‘thank you’ to the man. As he sips it, he hums, swirling the glass properly. “That’s the one.” He lets out a light snort, turning towards the fae. “The ‘blonde bloke?’ I suppose that is probably me.” As Faolan goes on, light laughter erupts from the lamia. “Dear god, you are the one who spilled ale into my lap. Christ, I have been annoyed about that experience for years. However what followed surely made up for the exasperating events  earlier that evening.” So...he had known Faolan before he met Cora. Hell he slept with his closest and oldest friend’s borther. The thought has him cackling. “Ah, just wait until Cora hears about this.” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

eleonor-castellana‌:

“Thankfully. In the last months I spent more than enough time in their company to last for another couple centuries away from them” the lamia stated with muted anger laced in her words. Her dislike for humanity wasn’t something Edward didn’t know about, he knew her history, after all. The captivity. The torture. The trial and the moment they tried to burn her at the stake. It was more than enough to resent them and wish to stay away from them as much as possible. Perhaps they could have one hour or two before Lily called and just as her brother said, she knew they’d make good of that time to begin to catch up about a lifetime apart.

Even though they had missed each other in France, the way Edward saw it was lovely, as if life had tried to bring them together then but had only succeeded now. The thought made Ele smile. “How very worldly of you” the doctor said with a smile. As opposed to her, who had hidden away in little places, he had chosen to live in some of the greatest cities of the world. Medicine had always been her calling, even back in a time where it was considered witchcraft rather than science. “My heart was always in it” was all she had to say, smiling at her brother. A hand rested on Edward’s shoulder as he spoke of the fate of his family and Scotland. “You’ve lost more than anyone should ever have to, deartháir”. The ways of the clans were lost now and it was heartbreaking to think about it. The legacy of the Forsyth family lived on only through Edward now. “You seem well now, though. Perhaps even happy” she mentioned as she studied his face. Perhaps he had lost his way and his purpose back then, but perhaps he’d also found new purpose here.

One of his arms reaches out to wrap around her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. His affections only ever extended to those he cared for deeply and Ele had proven to be one of those people. Even if not by blood, he still thought of her as a sister. “I understand. But now you are through with that part of your research, and there is absolutely no need to be in their company anymore. You have endured enough from the likes of them.” Despite their differing opinion on humans, he still respected her dislike towards them. They had done monstrous things to her and to others like them. They took his land, his clan, his family...to a certain extend, Edward detested humanity as Ele did. However, not all of them had proven to be monsters. He had met humans willing to help, humans who turned a blind eye to things they didn’t quite understand. 

Edward lets out a light chuckle. “I was a different man back then, someone you may have not liked. Perhaps there is a reason we missed each other. So you could find me now in a better place.” He would have hated Ele to have seen him in such a state after losing his family, his home. Scotland had been everything to him, in a way, it still was. It had changed and not for the better. England had practically wiped out all of his heritage, along with everything he once knew about his motherland. Edward smiles a little as his sister goes on to talk about medicine. “It has been. Even when you came to Scotland, you were so interested in helping the clan after battle. You were our best healer, after all,” he smiles, thinking back to fond memories of the past. God, how long has it been since he thought of such memories? Too long, but for good reason. It’s as equally painful as it is joyous. He nods, “I have, but I have gained so much in my time traveling as well. Perhaps a new family, as much as I hate to admit it.” The lamia gives a light chuckle, thinking to Riley, Cora, and Arthur. “Yes, I am well. I think...well, a mhuirnín, I think I have met someone special. A witch,” he says, trying to hide the small smile the spreads across his lips. 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

felix-forteza‌:

“Fuck if I know. It’s just one of the weird stuff she says.” Felix shrugs nonchalantly as he is often unimpressed by the wisdom of his mother. He can’t help but laugh at Edward’s comment. “Yeah, right. Let’s just say she hardly raised me.” He remarks jokingly, although there is some truth in his words. Gloria did the bare minimum just so that others can’t say that she neglected him. “But sure, I guess she can take some credits for her pocket wisdoms. Still would rather have shits like, I dunno, sending me to school or not living in a car for years.” He mutters the last part under the breath, almost an inaudible whisper. She didn’t kill him or anything, but she wasn’t the mother of the year, too.

Felix definitely does not like where this is going, cringing as Edward mentions that he knows that name… Gloria does have a habit of flourishing her full name. “…please don’t tell me you know my mom biblically. I’ve had far too many uncomfortable conversations like that.” He squeezes his eyes shut, still cringing. “Yeah, he’s nice for a lamia. No offense, but I don’t have a great experience with the demon folks.” He remarks offhandedly. 

“Huh,” Edward grunts, furrowing his brow as he begins cleaning his station with a nearby rag. Busying himself is much easily than outwardly expressing his discomfort with this conversation. It’s not the man’s fault, but this is...oddly familiar. “God, are you the type that deeply resents their parents?” That got old rather quickly, and he really does not have time for another sob story. He’s met his quota today. “Jesus, you are one of the type to deeply resent their parents...well, I uh, would it help if I felt bad for you? I do not see what good it would do.” The lamia shrugs, not knowing the first thing about being a parent anyway. He had no advice, and he never wished to be one. ‘The grumpy uncle’ bit he did not mind, but father? Laughable. 

“I could lie and say that I do not know your mother the way I do, but that would be rather silly, would it not? Her and I may have had...one night together.” Again he finds himself shrugging, but the red flags come up all around him. Who the fuck is this kid? He better not be mine. The thought makes him gag outwardly, and he apologizes in kind. “Why’s that? Met too many fiery assholes?” Edward retorts, snorting. Most lamia, specifically men, were horrid people. An annoying lot with way too much confidence and power for their own good. 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

[edward-forsyth-blog]

lou-navarro‌:

“I’m sorry, I-” she began to apologize for her tears, for showing up at his place as the emotional mess she was at present. Lou brushed the tears away as the lamia led her into his home and she buried her face in her palms until she felt Edward’s arms wrapping around her, lovingly, protectively. The witch found herself sinking into his embrace, holding him close as she cried. His touch and his words were soothing and eventually they managed to calm the girl down. Slowly, she began to pull away a bit, still staying close to the man, her forehead lightly pressed to his neck. “S-Something happened a few years ago, Edward. I’m… I’m not free of him yet” she croaked, her shaky voice marked by the fact that she’d been crying. “I thought time would just make it all go away, that trying to keep it buried would make it disappear but it doesn’t go away and I- I feel like I’m drowning” Lou said with a sob, her fist grabbing fabric of Edward’s shirt. The feeling poisoning her wasn’t this bad always, but the fact that only a few days ago marked the third anniversary of an event she wished she could forget, a day that set the chain reaction of Marcos’ abuse.  “I can’t eat and I can’t sleep… I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes” she admitted weakly, feeling panic taking over, so she had to pull away from Edward for a moment though still holding on to him. She needed that stability right now, the reasurance that she wasn’t going to drift if she let go. She tried to pull in air more calmly, reminding herself to think of ways to ground herself. Five things she could see. Edward. The door. The satchels of herbs on the floor. A carpet. A vase with white flowers. Four things she could hear. A dog barking in the distance. Cars outside. Her own breathing. Edward’s soothing voice. Three things she could smell. Flowers. Edward’s aftershave. Something warm and sweet in the kitchen. At that point the overwhelming sensation began to go away and she looked up at Edward, teary and red-eyed.

Almost instantly her tears cause wrenching in his chest, and he feels helpless over the fact that he has no idea what caused such pain in her. He wants to know, wants to ask her again what’s going on, to push an explanation as to who or what did this to her. But Edward doesn’t ask, he doesn’t push. Instead he holds Lou close to him protectively, as if shielding her from the rest of the world. Perhaps for a moment, he is. When she speaks he pulls back a little, brushing away hair that’s began sticking to the sides of her face with tears. Okay, so it was something that happened a few years ago, something that involved a man. Instantly, he feels his muscles begin to tense up. “Not free from him?” Edward asks gently, eyes softer than they’ve ever been. 

Quite frankly, he did not know he could care so deeply for another being in the way that he cared for Lou. It’d been so long since he had, so long since he’d lost everything...God, he wished he could simply take her pain away. “Mo ghràdh...I wish I could tell you with time pain will subside. But I have learned that we merely become numb to it. It may always exist, but there are people in your life who love you. Who will be there for you, who will not allow you to drown,” he says reassuringly, taking either side of Lou’s face in his hands. “I will not allow you to drown, Lou.” Fists fulls of his shirt sat in between her fingers and he could feel the fear, the worry, the pain of her trauma radiating through her. 

Panic set in seconds later as she moved away from him, hands still gripping at his chest. He waits for a moment before moving forward, wanting her to take in what she could in these few moments they stood with distance between them. Crowding someone in a panic always resulted in more panic, and that’s the last thing he wants to cause Lou right now. He watches as her breathing regulate and he steps forward, hand on her chin. “Whatever this man did to you, Lou, I am so sorry it happened to you.” His other hand balls into a fist, angered by the other man’s actions regardless of not knowing what those actions are. “I wish I could make it go away. I wish I could take every bad thing he ever did to you away. Even if I can’t, I will be here for you. Always, for anything. And I will never do anything to hurt you,” he states firmly, looking her in the eyes before he leans forward to press a kiss to her forehead. 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

eleonor-castellana‌:

“I like it here a lot. Small towns have always been more my thing than big cities. And here I don’t have to fear humans and the way they radicalize ignorance” the woman said with evident dislike for them. They had tried to burn her alive twice, the first they had actually done it, only they didn’t know she rose with fire, it didn’t turn her to ash. And the second time it caused her to flee, to leave behind the only family she had ever known. Mixing with humans wasn’t something she particularly liked, and the only reason she had temporarily left Lethe, the only reason she interacted with humans again was for the sake of the Riverborn and wanting to find a cure for them.

Eleonor didn’t have scheduled appointments later, not that she remembered anyway. That was why she had Lily. “Until my assistant calls me” she admitted with a laugh. Arranging her time would be a mess without her trusty fae assistant. “You were in France?” she asked with slight disbelief, as she had also been in the same country sometime in the 18th century. “I lived near Colmar for a few years”. A smile crossed her lips when her brother spoke of Cora Meadowes. She knew the woman alright and Ele had quite a lot of respect for her. 

“Well, after Colmar I stayed in France for quite a while, I moved to small town, Briançon. After Briançon it was Péone, in the south. Then moved to Italy, to Treviso, near Venice. I loved that place and probably would have stayed longer if agelessness wasn’t an issue that causes so much suspicion. I also lived in Montieri, I had a beautiful vineyard in the region of Tuscany. But I knew my heart was in healing, in medicine, and I came to America. I learned of the Woman’s Medical College in Pennsylvania and I started studying there in- What year was it? It was 1892, I believe”. History wouldn’t remember her because Eleonor didn’t want it to, but she had been one of the first women in the country to ever pursue medical education after the medical college opened in 1886. “And eventually made my way to Lethe, which has been my home for over a century now”.

Edward sighs, nodding his head a little in agreement. “Yes, those pesky little things can’t torment you here. It’s for the better.” With a light smile, he adds, “and I know how much you adore small towns such as this. Just as I know you like to sit in corners in full view of the world around you.” Paranoia, is what that’s based off of. Years upon years of people tormenting his poor sister, and for what? Because of her abilities, her species? Because she’s different? Humans really did anger him, sometimes far more than other lamia ever could. “Ah well, we shall try to be productive then,” he jokes, following the new councilwoman outside. 

Almost instantly his features turn to mild shock, the realization that they had both been in France around the same time hitting him hard. “You too? What a strange coincidence...perhaps the world truly was trying to being us back together again.” Edward had never been one to believe in fate. By now he’d lived far too long to believe in anything like that. Life is what you make it, that’s what he believed in. But perhaps there are greater forces at work, ones he is unaware of. “I lived in Paris for the first few years, then Bordeaux later on. Eventually I settled in New York, met a couple of vampires there and decided to stay.” He hadn’t realized till now how much of his story revolved around other people. How comical, considering he’d spent the better part of one hundred years trying to keep his distance from others. But he’s a creature of habit, just like anyone else. 

Edward listens to Ele recant her times in Europe with a smile, hands resting behind his back leisurely as they walk. “Well,” the lamia says once she’s finished, eyebrows raised. “You have been around quite a lot, and so many accomplishments! I mean medicine, that’s fantastic, Ele. And at such a difficult time for women too,” Edward insists, shaking his head with a delighted smile. He’s just so proud, it’s hard to wipe the grin from his lips. “I wish my repertoire was as impressive as yours. But to be quite frank, after the loss of my family and my country...well, perhaps I lost my way,” he offers, thinking on the past few centuries he’d spent away from Scotland. “Ever since I left there, I haven’t really quite found a purpose. Time sort of just...passes by, if that makes a lick of sense.” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

lou-navarro‌:

@edward-forsyth

She needed to talk to someone. It’ll make the weight feel a lot easier knowing someone will listen to you, Odette had told her. And Lourdes found herself outside Edward’s place just a couple days later. She was nervous, unsure if she would even be brave enough to get the words out and tell him her story. What would he think of her once he knew? The thought scared her but she had enough trust in Edward to know he would understand, that he wouldn’t judge. When the lamia opened the door she managed a weak smile, showing him the little satchel of herbs in her hands. The herbs he always bought to help him sleep better. “I brought you these. I thought that maybe you’d-” she cut off as she looked at him, feeling her eyes well up with tears in a second and it became hard to speak.

The gentle knock on his door could only mean one thing; Lou had come to visit him. By now he’d manage to memorize the way her knocks sound. Light, gentle, polite, very much all qualities that had led him to fall for her. As he neared the door, he could just sense something was off. When he opens it, Lou’s demeanor only confirms his suspicions. “What’s wrong, Mo ghràdh?” Edward asks gently, his hand reaching out to touch Lou’s upper arm when he sees tears begin to fill her eyes. Now his features only mirror worry. “Lou,” he says softly, stepping out onto his porch momentarily to guide the young woman inside.  “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Slowly, he closes the door behind them and his arms wrap around Lou’s small frame, bringing her close. Edward’s chin rests against the top of her head, a hand soothing over her hair as he spoke. “Tell me when you’re ready.” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

[edward-forsyth-blog]

eleonor-castellana‌:

“I’m trying, but I don’t have anything that could help your friend, Edward”. Arthur Talbot. She immediately thought back of the vampire Shiloh had told her about, the one who was a Riverborn, and she knew it was the same man. It was kind of her fellow lamia to still have this much trust in her -in her abilities and her mind- to solve complex puzzles, but she didn’t wish for him to get false hopes regarding his friend.

Eleonor smiled at her brother, letting a hand rest on his cheek. It was a smile tinged by nostalgia but also happiness. “I know you would have”. Just as she would have return to Scotland had she known he was the sole survivor of the Forsyth clan. They had been apart enough, kept away by existing in a time when seeking each other had not been an easy task, separated by false notions that they were both gone. But now they were here, together once more, and both lamias had rekindled their sibling bond with just a tight embrace and a few words. “I haven’t and I would very much like to have lunch with you. We have centuries of catching up to do” the Councilwoman told him with a warm smile, setting aside the folders she had been arranging, leaving them neatly stacked to continue her work later. Right now she just wanted to talk to him, to learn about his life in the time they had been apart.

His lips part and he nods slowly. Perhaps it is foolish of him to put so much faith into one person, but...well, Ele has never once let him down. If anyone could figure this out, he could see it being her. However he will not lull himself into false hope. Even Ele has limitations, and this Riverborn business is quite complicated. Without memories, his friendship with Arthur still remains. For now he can live with that single fact. When her hand reaches out for his cheek, Edward smiles softly and covers the hand with his own. “I’m glad you were able to have a life, Eleonor. Has it treated you well so far? Do you like it here?” He wonders aloud, looking around at what appears to be her new office. Eleonor has done well for herself as it seems. A doctor, and now the she holds the lamia seat on the council, it is impressive. Meanwhile he’s resorted to baking...though he most certainly does not miss Wall Street. Well, perhaps a little for its constant amusement. 

Edward watches his sister gather her things, stepping back towards the door so that he could hold it open for her as they exit. “That is quite a lot of time to get through. How long do you have?” The lamia chuckles, following Ele out. “Perhaps we should start with the basics. After Scotland fell and my family had perished in its wake, I ended up in France. This rather loud woman found me, drunk, in some ditch. Later I learned her named to be Cora Meadowes. She may sound familiar to you, as she too is a resident in Lethe” he explains as they walk, sending a polite wave to Ele’s assistant.   “What about you, a mhuirnín? Where did your life begin since I last saw you?” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

[edward-forsyth-blog]

faolanmeadowes‌:

“You’ll meet her eventually, she’s probably coming to dinner. She’s the scary looking Native American woman who looks like she could kill you in her sleep,” he supplies unhelpfully, shrugging. “Sabine, as you all call her.” He’d never been one for changing names to suit others, it’s why he’s Faolan instead of Fallon like he once considered. He snorts. “I should be insulted on her behalf, but I can’t argue against the truth.” He could, actually, he enjoyed playing devil’s advocate, but not with this. “Whoever chooses her needs to know what they are getting into.” Faolan grimaces, wondering what Cora could have said about him. Non-shitty brother isn’t exactly the same as good one, even if it’s a nickname he gave himself. “Definitely need to trade stories and set some records straight. For starters, I only impersonated a Russian prince once, it lasted six months, not twelve years. She enjoys a little trickery. There’s a reason some of the old tales of the fae called us mischief makers,” he points out, trying to think of anything important. Edward’s forwardness makes him snort, raiding Cora’s fridge for a drink and waving a random bottle of wine at him with a questioning brow raise. “Maybe. You’re old, too, you think I remember everyone? You do look familiar, maybe we met in Europe when things were hell on earth. Perhaps I don’t recognize you in modern clothes.”

“Ah,” Edward says, resting an elbow on Cora’s polished counter top. “I believe Cora has mentioned a ‘Sabine.’ Why do people insist on changing their name for the benefit of others? Sokanon is a lovely name.” Of course his name is rather common everywhere given it’s origins derive from the damn British. Everything just had to be made easier for them, did it not? Oh, their poor English speaking tongues failed to pronounce the name Sokanon? Pathetic. “If Cora’s description of you reigns true, I believe that statement is a lie,” the lamia chuckles, actually teasing the fae now. It’s not something he does quite often. Neither does he ‘joke around’ as his deadpan expression serve as amusement enough. At least in his eyes. “Well, that would be Arthur, would it not? Has she introduced you to the big nosed brat?” Of course he’s merely poking fun at his friend. He is very happy for them and their blossoming relationship, mostly because he favors both of them. 

It amuses him a great deal that it’s the Russian prince story in particular Faolan wishes to debunk. Cora had went on and on about that one, which is probably why he finds it the most amusing. “You know that very story is what had me on your side. I thought, whoever that man is, he must be absolutely brilliant if he can fool an entire country for twelve years.” Ah, and the non-shitty one also has impeccable timing. “Yes to the wine,” the lamia states, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waits. “I hardly remember the last thirty years let alone the last century, it simply blends together. If we do know each other I’m sure it will...hold on a minute. Scotland, have you ever been? A pub in Edinburgh, maybe mid 1600′s, though I may be a bit off.” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

felix-forteza‌:

Felix pauses for a moment, wondering what is the purpose behind that question. “Uh, my mother?” He ends up answering honestly, hesitance evident in his voice. From his experience, talking about his mother often leads to an uncomfortable conversation. “Yeah, well, y’know what they say. It’s not paranoid if they are actually out to get you. Can’t be too careful.” He shrugs, referring to Infighting among lamias is brutal and ugly. One of the reasons Felix was always on the move, lying low, was to avoid running into those fanatically territorial fellow demons.

Felix hesitates at the 007 greeting, feeling pressured to give his surname. He doesn’t consider himself secretive, but he is private. He can’t be bothered with deception, but he tries not to speak too much. He often fails, though. “Felix Forteza” he sighs, pulling out crumpled bills and old coins. “So you work for Raf? He seemed cool.” He attempts at a small talk, choosing any other topic that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable.

Edward blinks, “your mother?” Who the fuck is his mother, and why has he heard this saying before? “Is this phrase...common?” Now he’s beginning to feel a slight shift in his mood, as if something horrible is about to happen. He does not think he likes his person very much. Not based on anything he’s said or done, per say, but what this familiarity may bring. “Smart. It seems that mother of yours has raised you right. One can never be too careful with supernatural beings, especially one of our own kind.” Edward hardly associated with other lamia. Cillian Daley, has been a prime example of why, though he supposes now that he’s left he poses no threat. Honestly Daley leaving is the best thing that’s happened in this town thus far. 

The name gives him pause. “Forteza. I’ve heard that name before.” Yes, but where? Where had he heard it before? And the saying...there’s something to it, he just has yet to put all the pieces together. There’s someone that comes to mind, a woman, but it couldn’t be...honestly, she had no seemed like the mother type. “I think I knew someone with that name once. Brief, but this this woman, I remember her well. Actually, you look a bit...” Huh. That’s strange. Edward squints at the other lamia hard, barely looking down at the bills placed out onto the counter as he takes them. By now he knows the motion, has spacial awareness of where the cash register starts and stops. “Yes, I do. You’ve met him, I presume? A very nice man, makes delicious pastries.” Is this what they are doing now? Small talk? He supposes it’s better than whatever realization he had begun to have before. 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

eleonor-castellana‌:

She had already thought of her beloved Forsyths as gone for many years but hearing it from Edward himself, getting the irrefutable confirmation that they were all gone made her heart ache all over again. Harold. Ailith. Alastair. The only family she had known, gone, and since then Ele had been especially careful in not forming such strong bonds again only to inevitably lose everyone. But Edward, her brother, was still alive so perhaps there was hope for the dying ember of love still present in a heart made all metal. “Yes, I made Lethe my home since 1904” she explained once they pulled away from their embrace. She still smiled but her expression was much more composed now, almost a contrast to Edward’s unmasked joy. “I’ve been doing research on the Riverborn. Medical research. I think there could be a cure for their condition but I haven’t found anything conclusive yet. And I wanted to learn if Lethe was the only town where this was happening and my travels have proven that it is. There are no Riverborns out there, this is an affliction that affects supernatural beings only, deartháir”.

“1904,” he repeats, studying his sister’s face. It is the first time he’s seen it in person since...hell, he can hardly remember how long it’s been. At least several centuries. The only person he’d ever told about his true past had been Cora. But even Cora knew little about his actual family, let alone Eleonor. Even if she had known of her presence, it’s unlikely she would have known their connection to one another when he so often referred to her as Ele. He lets out a gently sigh, letting his hands fall to her arms. “Then you’re doing very important work here, Ele. One of my dear friends, Arthur Talbot, he’s washed up from the river like the rest of them. No memory. He’s managed to collect a few along the way, because of his daughter, Riley, but...” Edward shakes his head, eyes meeting Eleonor’s. “He could use whatever cure you have, a mhuirnín. And I am sure that brilliant mind of yours can come up with a solution.”

Even when they’d met, she’d been rather brilliant. Other than his mother, Eleonor had been the strongest, bravest, and most intelligent woman he had ever met. He admired her just as much as he had his mother, which is perhaps now why he leaves out the most cruel part of his past, of their past. Eleonor already knew the Forsyth’s had perished. There is no need to give details as to how or why each of them died. “God, I just can not believe after all this time, you....you have been right here. If I would have known,  a mhuirnín, I would have come.” But there is no use for that now, is there? They have each other now, that is all that matters to him. “Are you hungry, have you eaten? Perhaps I may take us out to lunch, so we may talk.” 

[edward-forsyth-blog]

[edward-forsyth-blog]

faolanmeadowes‌:

A part of him has some trepidation about accepting Cora’s dinner invite, she’s the type to spring news on people without warning or purposely making them sit next to people that bother them for a laugh, and Faolan would honestly rather not. He lets himself inside her house without warning, pausing in the open doorway at the sight of someone absurdly tall with a sculpted face. He blinks. “Why are you here?” he asks, glancing around the kitchen for a sign of her. His thoughts of news makes him grimace and he replies before the man even can: “Please don’t tell me Cora has two boyfriends, I can’t handle this much. I can’t beat you up - you’re too tall - and I’m only slightly too proud to tag Sokanon in even if she would probably destroy you if she felt like it.” He’s a little proud to admit that, he finds it funny. The man just settles down without another complaint and Faolan has whiplash from the absurdness of their conversation. The familiarity remains even after Edward introduces himself, but he shrugs. “Oh, you’re Edward. I’ve heard about you, thank fuck. I’m Faolan, her non-shitty brother.”

Edward’s lips part as his brow furrows, deep confusion taking over his sculpted features. “I...am I to know who the fuck this Sokanon, is? If she can kick my ass she must know Cora,” he concludes with a light chuckle, waving it off. “I am not one of her boyfriends. Not even I could survive that test of will.” How Arthur seemed to manage it is beyond him, but...then again he does also adore Cora and would die for her. Perhaps he does understand how Arthur can manage. Once the man’s relation and name are revealed, understanding washes over Edward. “Ah, so you are Faolan. Yes, the non-shitty one, she’s told me about you as well. Perhaps we should swap stories. I find that when this occurs there are a few discrepancies in the way Cora tells it versus the tale straight from the horse’s mouth.” The lamia closes his book and carefully sets it down beside his tea. “Well Faolan, it is a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. You are much more handsome than Cora described, how unjust to your exquisite looks,” Edward hums, eyeing the fae. “And oddly familiar. Are you sure we have not crossed paths before this? The shape of your mouth is oddly inciting.”