dxmergues

[dxmergues]

"Ugh, you are preaching to the choir," Alex said, shaking his head. He had no issues making small talk with strangers - he was usually the one to start a nonsensical chat, so he was flattered that someone approached him - and the woman struck a very excitable nerve. Ever since he died, he was naturally colder than a person who wasn't undead. When he was human, he liked basking in the sun like a reptile, always getting sunburnt (he was pale even then) and loathed the winter months, where it was dark and cold and sent his body into shivers. Now, though, that was his happy spot - dark and cold. Fifteen years on and he just now was getting used to it. "I want snow so bad. I love the snow." He couldn't even remember if there was snow in Destarin... maybe a few times? it had been too long.

@dxmergues

Vanathi felt some freedom to do whatever she liked now that she had completely her tasks as someone who'd survived. Though she couldn't help continuing the offerings, even if it was a little much. Her plate at the cafe was doubled, one she would later throw into the fire for the ghosts of those who had passed, while she was absent-mindedly eating from the other.

With a content sigh she watched the busy cafe. All tables were taken, people were seated next to strangers, and there was a run of the mill of rumours and stories.

But for once, she didn't feel like she needed to hear about them. "I am kindly wishing for it to snow, but I suppose that might not be normal weather in Destarin," she noted to the person sitting next to her. "I'd organise a snow fight."

[dxmergues]

[dxmergues]

Alex gave his head an exaggerated shake at the words, the impish smile essentially permanent on his face. It was a pleasurable night, a comfortable morning, and good spirits kept him in good spirits. He had to pause, though, the question stirring a feeling of uncertainty in him. "I don't think I'm the most trustworthy," he decided on, with a light chuckle. "I'm still only a spawn. My master's still alive, somewhere. That may be a bit of a liability." Alex laughed over it, but that thought was always lingering in the back of his mind. If Alex was the least bit serious looking, Harrison likely would've forced him into the limelight, into power, to do all his bidding so that when he inevitably made bad decisions, he didn't have to face the wrath of the public.

He could shudder at the thought, but he forced that feeling down and instead took a long swig of the bottle when the hands ran down his arm. Alex liked that the feeling was warm, since he was so used to the cold caresses of other vampires which never seemed to bring him the same kind of comfort. He wondered if Merry could feel how chilly his skin was to the touch.

His grin grew even wider and he sat up, swinging a leg over the tiefling's body and let his hands rest over the other's navel for balance, ass firmly planted over hips and resisting the urge to grind down... for now. "I hate to disappoint you, but I don't have those powers," he said, sliding his hands up the yellowed skin under him so his elbows rested on the other, propping his head up on one of his fists. "A very, very shitty hypnosis that fails most of the time is about as good as it gets."

Merrymock made an exaggerated gesture with his hand by the side of his head as if locking the name away for safe keeping. He would be sure to remember his name now that he wasn't entirely inebriated.

"No position of power?" Merrymock repeated the words chosen by Alex and letting them dance around on his tongue a few more times before deciding they were absolutely ridiculous and so began to laugh warmly as he laid down beside him, shoulders touching. "Couldn't you be? If you wished it. I am but a clown and now a position of power is mine," the tiefling laughed, not at Alex and his situation but in his own situation in general. It was extremely comical that a jester such as himself had waltzed into town and somehow managed to win the vote of the populace on his antics.

"I believe, you could be in a position of power, believe me, I am a proficient in positions of power," the tiefling cooed earnestly, his fingers both metal and warm flesh tapped against the slope of Alex's shoulders before smoothing palms down the side of his arm. "A vampire, in a position of power," Merrymock marveled at the thought, a soft hum coming from his throat, "Why, you could even have a position of power of me," and to prove this point, the tiefling then flopped onto his back with an invitation for Alex to straddle him if he wished. "If you would please, sit here, right here," his metal hand tapped against his hip, "I'd be perfectly powerless beneath you," he hummed suggestively.

[dxmergues]

Alex shook his head. "We had money, yes, but we didn't celebrate this," he said. He had been carefully watching her work, hands folded between his knees. To say he was uneasy was an understatement - the second he was first informed about this holiday and what it entailed, it set his teeth on edge. He hadn't lived in Destarin in so long that he nearly forgot about their customs and holidays. "We're from Laras, so it was a lot of wine pouring into the earth... or it was supposed to be, I used to sneak away with it and blamed it on the spirits." He smiled and shook his head. His mother had fad worships, where she flip-flopped from one god to another in the hopes that they would solve whatever gripe of the month she had. His father couldn't be bothered, and never participated much in all that, from Alex's memory.

As he watched her work, he shifted in his seat - in fact, he hadn't seemed to stop fidgeting almost the entire time he was at the shop. Alex felt like he had been looking over his shoulder the past few days, waiting for when Bella had an opening to help out with the mask he most certainly would have messed up on, if not for her craftsmanship. "And you're sure these work?"

Withermore Traditions || Alex&Bella

It was evident Bella's concern she would be discovered by the spirits had been addressed promptly, the woman's face presently hidden beneath what appeared to be the skull of a Goliath Crinti Bat, bleached clean and layered with black lace. It was within the traditions of the Vembrasyn worshippers to don masks of great Withermore beasts and Bella had been unable to give up the traditions of the celestial that had been her third parent as an aasimar even in death.

"Did your family have any traditions for your masks?" she asked Alex, all that could be seen of her face were her soft moss green eyes and the pink colour of her bold lips beneath the mask. "Some families prefer leather masks, shaped to avoid illness," Bella explained of her question. "Other's keep it subtle, just sheer fabric over the eyes." Admittedly she'd suggest more than the latter now that he was spawn but tradition and intention always tended to be more effective than simply covering the whole face, at least in her experience.

"I could make you a mask of my own beliefs but I do not imagine your family worshipped Vembrasyn," she presumed, adjusting the fabric laid over her lap in the small store of Red Thread where she was working with him, wolves at her feet. Unlike her they did not need to hide from their kills. "Most who sought comfort in my celestial mother were people who lived in the woods of Withermore and dealt with monsters regularly. You were wealthy, no?"

@dxmergues

[dxmergues]

Alex's brows raised slightly, expecting him to go on and elaborate. When that didn't happen, he noticeably slouched back into his chair. "Oh." He didn't think he was smart enough to come up with something so sophisticated... or had the patience for something like that. He'd give up or forget his own secret code and then he'd really be screwed. Alex tucked that nugget of knowledge away though - he did love puzzles.

"I'm almost offended," he said, as he resumed eating. "No longer held your interest - sheesh." Alex was always happy to be something of an attention hog, but when it was taken away from him so abruptly he shook his head and tsked his tongue in exaggerated disapproval. Mid bite, he looked back up at the other vampire incredulously, at the suggestion. "I'm sorry-- a pint? Of someone's spit? Are you mad? That's a lot!"

"It is a cypher," replied Valentin, once again in a brief manner but despite his brief responses and otherwise indifferent expression and behavior, he generally commended and welcomed a curious person. It meant they wanted to expand their intelligence in some way and that was always beneficial and a trait that Valentin regarded as positive. However, a curiosity in this, his own specific cypher for his own secrets which he did not want known publicly, was not welcome and so he replied simply and did not care to elaborate.

"I was," the vampire confirmed once more, "and now I am not," as evidenced by the fact that he had now put the notebook and his blood drawing pen away. "You have supplied me with my next experiment and then no longer held my interest. It is as you say, behavior typical to a spawn. Your sire tells you eating food for mortals will make you ill and so it does. A trick of the mind. If it had been ogre saliva that would have been more interesting, which I will delve further into with a future experiment to determine whether or not it would be possible and if so, how much ogre saliva would be needed to induce ailment and which species would be affected. Perhaps, if you are willing, you can participate. Let's say we begin small. What would you say to imbibing a pint of ogre spittle?"

[dxmergues]

Paranoid as he was about the thought of vengeful souls coming to haunt him for an entire month, Alex couldn't let that stop him from living his life. Over the last decade and a half, he had grown far more comfortable in the darkness, and less scared of what could be lurking about in the shadows - a normal person might even wager that Alex and what he could do was scarier than other things.

But the otherworldly nature of the Month of the Veil is what bothered him so much. A vampire master with a temper, that he knew how to predict. He had been dragged along on many hunts and pillages to the point where he couldn't completely fault all the actions on his master - sometimes, he had no choice. But would he able to reconcile that much with a vengeful spirit? On his walk home from work, his mask pulled over his eyes (just in case), he always passed by a few darker streets, some that get less foot traffic and didn't have much lantern light to them. He himself lived down one of those streets, one of the last buildings in the alley. As he turned down into his street, he saw him - a man, standing by the door. Even with his good eyesight he couldn't entirely tell if he was real or a figment of his imagination. And, while there were many others that lived in the street and even in the lower floors of the same building as he, his paranoia was all encompassing and he froze in his tracks. "Oh my gods, I swear whatever vengeance you're looking for was not my fault," he blurted, wincing as if waiting for the figure's next move with fearful anticipation, assuming the worst.

@axius-scourge

[dxmergues]

Alex had been on edge for the last few weeks. Bella made him a beautiful mask, but he was clutching to it like his sole lifeline - he was terrified of the prospect of an embittered soul, a poor witness to the crimes he and his master committed, would follow him. Now that Harrison was no longer with him constantly, he was already accustomed to looking over his shoulder, but this was a different sort of fear. Harrison, he could predict.

A vengeful spirit was a whole different thing.

He found the door to his friend's house in no time, practically jogging to it - something about being out and about in the streets made the prospect of being haunted by someone made him feel far more vulnerable. He would've probably holed himself up in his loft, but the idea of being alone was also just as daunting. He'd be a fool not to believe in the undead, as he was one himself. Alex rapped on the door, not ceasing for a solid fifteen seconds. "Wren, I know you're home," he called, peering through the windows. "You have to be, what else could you possibly be up to?"

@wrennightwood

[dxmergues]

It was getting more and more difficult to keep everything under control. Alex had had these vampiric urges for the last decade and a half, so this wasn't anything new, but before he had the devil on his shoulder telling him who to feed on, who he couldn't, how often, and basically decided his feeding schedule for him as if he were a common housecat.

Since he had returned to Destarin, Alex had been doing a fairly decent job at sticking to animals - nothing that looked like a pet, because that would make him too upset, but fish were fair game. Animals in the woods - deer were preferable, and kept him on his toes since they were so fast, and big enough for him to feel satiated. The difference between animal and human was palpable, though, and very much not the same... unfortunately it was only a matter of time before these urges got the better of him.

But while he was hunting in the woods, in the early night, the scent of blood - human blood - hit his nose like an ocean wave. He could feel his teeth swell, feel the veins around his eyes rise. It was so much - logically, there must have been some sort of accident to cause this, but he wasn't thinking logically. He was thinking with his teeth.

Stalking in the night, the dark being no issue for him, he happened upon a young man, covered in blood. Though Alex would never want to hurt a human, his predatory nature was taking over and he was blinded to that fact. He just saw what appeared to be an injured man, and he could help finish the job.

He crouched, staying low, and darted from behind one tree to the next, reddened eyes locked on the figure as he slowly crept forward.

@fledgendinthemaking

[dxmergues]

It was inevitable that instances and faces from his past (which wasn't saying much as this 'past' was only a few months ago) vampiric excursions were going to show up. Alex knew that, or should have at least known better. Harrison knew a lot of people in his old age that Alex had met by association, and most of them weren't people he'd ever want to call acquaintances.

Mostly, he was deathly afraid word would get back to Harrison that he left the estate and he'd have to face the punishment for it. He had strict instructions from years and years that he wasn't to leave without permission - the master vampire could have easily forced him to obey, but it was always a test to see if Alex would ever actually go through with it. Then again, a good defense could have been made that Alex had started to starve, and that Harrison could have very well miscalculated how long he'd be gone for.

No matter. Now he was just trying to live a little more normal, with a small little flat on his own, finding animals and raw meat to feed off of instead of humans - but who knows how long he could keep that charade up for - and waiting tables. This particular evening, he was carrying some glass steins, a few handles in each hand, making his way around the bar when he heard a familiar voice - he wasn't the best with names, but voices and faces he didn't often forget. Alex turned before he could help himself, knocking the glass in his right hand against the edge of the bar, shattering all three in the process - so much for any kind of discretion.

Knowing he made a bit of a scene, he set the remaining - in tact - glasses down and grabbed a towel to ease the numerous cuts on his hand, turning his head away and ducking around the taps in an attempt not to be seen.

@arielbeaumont

[dxmergues]

Fionn Whitehead as ‘Pip’ in Great Expectations

[dxmergues]

Alex gave a sure nod. "I can appreciate it, yes." Even as the other recited his transgressions back to him, he found himself sinking in the seat - as much as he could without appearing totally pathetic, and given his arms being bound to the chair. He'd been a vampire a long enough time to understand one thing about this affliction: people didn't often take too kindly to vampires and they were reasons he completely understood. The biting thing seems fun at first for the risky few (Alex included), but ran a pretty high risk of death, which he wouldn't personally recommend.

With that came a lot of prejudice. Vampires were killing machines, especially when their masters put them up to something. Alex had many bloody memories he wished he could forget. He hated that now there was always a sliver of doubt in anyone's minds, that the thought of him hurting them for blood was always there.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at that - he knew he wasn't very good at this. But before he had his master's commanding voice in his head only telling him to feed on certain creatures, at certain times, all at his whim - he was on his own now and he didn't know how to handle it. He chuckled instead. "I'm the worst liar in Destarin anyway, I wouldn't have even tried," he told him. "I'm Alex. And I swear my intention tonight was just to come down and pull some fish from the water to eat instead. I was hiding so I could try to steal a boat for a few hours."

"You certainly must understand how this looks to me." There is little kindness in Malas for those who might bring undue harm to his staff. It isn't that they're unwilling to feed those who visit- those of the lust demon persuasion were some of his most regular visitors after all, but there were rules in place to protect those who worked at The Chapel, rules that this young spawn had, even if not intentionally, managed to break. "You were caught loitering in the dark around my business, where the people under my employ are promised a safe place to do their work- where I ensure, on no uncertain terms, that they are kept from anyone who might make a meal of them without doing them the simple courtesy of at least asking permission and paying for their time out of work. People who do tend to act... quite a bit like you, my hungry young friend."

Malas Pitch had not earned his reputation lightly- he was capably threatening when he had to be, and sitting here in something that was resolutely under the banner of his metaphorical kingdom, the reaper was well aware he cut an intimidating figure. "Your want to feed on someone and your intent are, and will likely remain, decidedly at war- I would appreciate if you took that struggle from my doorstep to somewhere more sympathetic to your plight, because you'll find none here, not with me." The spawn apologizes, but it falls on deaf ears. "Hold your apologies for someone who might actually care to hear them." He hisses, wings pressing into the wound leather and chains holding them in place as they attempt to unfurl in agitation.

And then, as if someone has talked him down, he sighs. "Name." it's simple. Flat. "What is your name?" There's no fear in him at the sight of fangs- he has no vested attachment to the blood and flesh that wraps around his twisted bones, after all. "And do not lie to me. I will know if you try, one way or another. Tell me the truth and I will see about arranging for something for you to eat, and getting you out of those restraints."

[dxmergues]

"Well then what is it?" he asked. Alex had been alive awhile, aged beyond what his appearance would suggest, but there were few things about him that never seemed to leave him, despite everything. The desire for mischief, the fact that he never seemed to stop talking, and a childish wonder and curiosity about the world around him. Alex was always prone to daydreaming and wandering, and now his attention was fixated on the writing across from him, seeing if he could decipher it despite clearly not being fluent in it and it being upside down to him.

He frowned and looked down below at his tavern meal. "Yes," he nodded, and took another bite for certainty. "I think I know why, though. My master used to make a point to say that I could never eat mortal food, that it would make me sick, and I never questioned it because blood was pretty good. But he's an ass, and probably didn't want me eating anything but what he made me... I think it's a spawn thing, cause I never saw him even look interested in anything else." Alex paused, only to take a sip of his drink. "Are you taking notes on me or something?"

When Alex commented that it had been his first time consuming the food of the living since his turning, the scrawling pen tip paused mid-stroke as if considering this new addition before continuing onward. The rest of the note was finished quickly as the other inquired after the language in which he wrote. "It is not a language," he replied simply, fingers pressing gently against the textured pages as he waited momentarily for the ink which was made of his blood to dry before he closed the notebook to return it and the pen back to his breast pocket. Not because he wanted to conceal his notes for they were well concealed already due to his cyphered writing, but simply because he had concluded and determined that Alex's upset after eating food had simply been due to the fact that he hadn't had it since his turning just as he had said, it was a common occasion that the dead could not stomach the food of the living. He could only consume typical food if it were raw and fresh and full of blood. Still, the concept of the saliva was interesting and would feature in his next experiment.

"Have you tried eating anything since then?" Valentin questioned casually, drawing the finger he had pricked to his tongue for a quick lick as if he were simply wetting the surface before turning the page of a book. The skin had already closed and healed, all that remained was a small droplet of his blood which held no nutritional value to himself as it was his own and tasted of cold metal.

[dxmergues]

Alex was content to stare up at the ceiling for the time being, the stonework and the window even, if he looked so far backwards, he was upside down. But he could hear the clinking of metal on a bottle and he was far too nosy to just ignore that. He saw well on the dark, so of course he saw the prosthetics the other bore - it was just in the heat of the moment, and Alex didn't think to ask.

His focus was more on the pleasure of the evening than anything else.

He snorted at the honesty, not feeling offended by it in the slightest. Alex remembered his because of how unique it was - a noun and a feeling, that was fun. "It's Alex," he said, head lolling to the side to get a better angle to look at his acquaintance. He grinned, and while he wasn't hungry, his fangs always seemed to be out. His reflection isn't what it used to be, warped and blurry, but running his tongue over his teeth made him a bit self conscious. Though, knowing Merry and Bella lived together, Alex didn't think the other would be too wary about him being a vampire spawn. "I'm a vampire. I hold no position of power." He took the bottle then, thinking it felt a bit sour to him once he tasted it - then again, everything felt sour to his tastebuds now.

A high and breathy laugh flowed from the tiefling, amused that his first order of business had been to sleep with this man. "I suppose it is, isn't it?" Merrymock leaned over to pick up one of the green bottles, not giving the label a glance and just proceeding to open it by stabbing the point of his metal finger into the center of the cork and prying it open. Bits of cork fell in as it crumbled away but he had neither a discerning palette nor care for a bit of cork, he could just chew it in his mouth and spit it out, which he did. After gulping down some wine and spitting out some cork, he passed the open bottle to his companion.

"Who are you?" Merrymock asked, crossing his leg beneath him, bedding twisting behind his knee and he rested the metal of his elbow against the flesh of his yellow toned knee so he could rest his chin in the cup of his metal palm. "I've entirely forgotten your name," or if they had even bothered to exchange them. He shifted again, this time sliding to lay on his stomach so he could rest his head against Alex's thigh, "Not that a name is all that important. Just letters put together in a random manner," he walked his fingers over the raised folds of the blanket twisted between them. "But tell me again so I know what to cry out during our next business meeting."

[dxmergues]

No, he was not lurking around the brothel because he wanted entertainment, nor a job, nor to rob anyone.  It was no one’s fault it was near the docks.

Of course, staying hidden in the shadows was easier said than done, and he didn’t know that there would be a group of these… bodyguards watching over the women and clientele that came in and out.  In hindsight, he could see where the concern lied.  Alex had been hiding about near some barrels, and found himself staring at a woman who was walking towards the building.  She happened to see him, with his reddened eyes and fangs, and obviously sounded the alarm - how could he blame her?

He’d already explained this all, but a lackey went to go and get his boss and now Alex was sitting face to standing face with an intimidating man, strapped to a chair with the veins in and under his eyes popped out, his teeth sharper and thicker.  “I was trying to go fishing, that’s it!” he insisted, before the other even had a chance to speak.  “I don’t want to feed on people, I have no self control, hence why I was staring - which, as I’ve said, I am sorry.”

@deathsdogma

[dxmergues]

Alex shook his head and tutted his tongue. “Destarin was a talkative community when I left it,” he chastised. There was nothing about this man that told Alex he was in the mood to speak to anyone, let alone someone like Alex, who might as well have had ‘NUISANCE’ written across his forehead.

It was the principle.

Huh, maybe it was just that. Alex had been informed in his afterlife that spawn out of his ‘family line’ had the ability to stomach mortal food and despite not be able to have any of it under his master’s eye, he had hoped it was true. This current dinner seemed to be agreeing with him, though. Alex mocked a chuckle when the other laughed. “Huh-huh, very funny - I think I would have remembered that… but I guess it’s not entirely out of the question.” He extended a mildly greasy hand to the other. “I’m Alex.”

“It might be your point to coming to a tavern, “ the blacksmith rumbled around a mouthful of meat pie.  Swallowing the bite and waking it down with a swallow of ale the berserker continued.  “I'm here to feed myself and have an ale or two before I have to go back to work.”  He shrugged his broad shoulders, giving the other man a flat stare at the raised eyebrow directed his way.  He had found that a flat stare when combined with his size and the occasional growl did wonders to convince people to leave him alone. 

Despite his reticence, Kanaloa found himself pulled into the man's story, at least enough to follow the broad strokes of the tale.  “Sounds more like poorly cooked food and bad water, but who knows.  Perhaps your runaway tongue annoyed some witch who hexed you to still it.”  Kanaloa snorted at his own joke, taking another large bite out of his meat pie.

[dxmergues]

Alex stared back. He took in every detail of his face. Smile lines, around his eyes! And he looked good with the peeking gray hairs around his temples - like their father. But there were frown lines, proof of stress, and Alex felt a twinge of guilt - did he cause that?

He bit the bottom of his lip and winced when the tray clattered to the ground, along with whatever it was Caspian had been working on. It smelled really good, and he felt bad about being the cause of such shock. Cas looked like he was about ready to faint, and Alex probably should have prepared for such a situation. He hesitated at the other's words - you're alive. Why did that pierce his chest so bad? Alex had other things on his mind, though, and part of his thoughts spawned from his own fear of doppelgangers. "Before you think it's not me," he began, proud of himself for keeping his voice as steady as he could, given the situation... yet it was still quiet, and gentle. He cleared his throat, and began to sing, an old ballad that he had almost forgotten, and had been trying to re-memorize for the past week, with unsteady vocals:

"Who's gonna go fight off some trolls, Snacking on his neighbor's dinner rolls?... Someday he'll stop and rest, who knows when? But Alex has to be in bed by ten."

That was better when they were kids, wasn't it? Now Alex was worried he didn't remember it right - they had so many little songs they made up over the years. This one he remembered singing late at night, when his mother put him to bed and he was too jealous of his siblings staying up later - he had a vivid memory of Caspian singing at the foot of his bed while Alex waggled his feet in time under the blankets.

He teared up at it. Hands trembling, he pulled out his long kept treasure, nearly ripped apart from all the years he folded and unfolded it. It was a drawing of his own face, his name below: a pamphlet for a missing person in his brother's careful penmanship. "I, um..." He stepped closer to the counter, and straightened out the old page for Cas. "It worked." His voice caught, finally - the weight of the last fifteen years crashing on his shoulders. Alex blinked hard, but it only seemed to make things blurrier, and he quickly wiped the cold tears from his face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be gone for so long."

"Good morning," Caspian called over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening. It was a touch more distracted than the warm greetings he usually offered. He was preoccupied with a batch of berry hand pies, ready now to come out of the oven. The berries were the first of the season, Alexis' favorite; he'd promised her he would save one for when she woke, which he could not do if he burnt the lot. He was shuttling them from oven to tray, wondering which of his early morning regulars was waiting behind him, and then--

"Cas?"

No one called him that anymore, was the thing. Not since Daphne, and before that--Starla and their parents always used his full name, formal and proper, but Alexandre--

Feeling as though his fingers and toes were going numb, Caspian turned, started to say, "Sorry, do I know--" and then abruptly cut off, the wind knocked out of him as if he'd taken a physical blow. He staggered a little, his bad knee threatening to give out beneath him despite the brace he wore, the tray of pies he held tipping dangerously; nearly half the pies slid off, crashing to the floor in splatters of red berries and crust, before he caught himself, dropped the tray on the counter so he could grip the sturdy surface with both hands.

It took him a moment to find words. He just stared, his mouth hanging open and his eyes damp. No one called him that anymore, and he hadn't imagined he knew that voice, and--and, well, it wasn't as if he'd never imagined seeing Alexandre in a crowd. He had, of course he had, too many times to count. How many pale-skinned, dark-haired young men had he frightened on the street? How many glimpses of curls, or too-loud laughs heard in the distance? A hundred, a thousand, but he'd never--it had never been real. It had never been real, and maybe he was losing his mind completely, now, but this time--that was his brother's face looking back at him.

"Alex?" he said, and he could barely hear the whisper of his voice over the sound of his own heart in his ears. He couldn't stop staring, eyes fixed on his brother's face, though the world was spinning around him. It was his brother's face. Caspian knew his brother's face, though the frailties of human memory had taken some of the details.

It did not occur to him, yet, just how unchanged Alex looked. His brother was only five years his junior, but Caspian was not thinking clearly enough to realize that age ought to have touched him--that he should not have looked so exactly as he did in Caspian's memory, should have worn some trace of the years they'd been apart, as Caspian did in gray hairs and fine lines written into his face.

His brother was here. His brother was alive. Caspian said it out loud, "You're alive," testing it out. It made him wobble again, and he let go of the counter with one hand to grab the stool Alexis used when she helped him roll dough and sit down on it heavily. He could barely see for the tears filling his eyes now, but it did not stop him from staring, as if Alex might vanish if he looked away. "Are you really here?"

[dxmergues]

He actually first saw him last week.

Alex had been so keen on not spending any time falling into the black hole of nostalgia, so he only stuck to a few streets primarily in Destarin. The docks, because he had rarely gone down there when he was young, where he lived in Rocheilles, and the path from his home to his work. The further north he went, the more he'd be likely to find something that would upset him. He only went once to where the shop used to stand, where their childhood home was, and that was all.

It was just too painful for him, as much as he didn't want to admit it.

But there he was, the past bleeding into his present. Alex almost didn't recognize him at first. He had been having a drink after a shift, seated by the window to people watch - at dusk, of course, to avoid the potential sunlight through the window - and there he was. Walking in the thin crowd. Alex watched a man walk past and did a double-take. Age had taken him, and his hair was different, the way he wore his facial hair too. But he knew that walk, he had trailed behind it as a boy all the time. He knew that smile when he passed people on the street.

He had rushed out of the door once his brother had walked far past the building, but it was as if his feet were in cement. He couldn't bring himself to move forward. There was always an alarm in his head, a chilling warning Harrison used to threaten: I can find them in a heartbeat. Behave. Rarely he had to use it, but it frightened Alex every time. Alone for all these years had made him forget some things, but memories came rushing back at the figure out of the window. And a week later, he couldn't shake it. He couldn't stay hidden and afraid anymore.

So, with careful consideration and asking around, he managed to find a small bakery, off the beaten path not far from where their childhood home was. He only had a good two hours or so of daylight before his skin would start to burn, so he made it worthwhile. He had left in the night, and stayed hidden in shadows until the sun came up, until the bakery had opened for business. It smelled wonderful.

It smelled like home.

It took a lot of coaxing words under his breath, telling himself it would all be okay, that it would all be worth it, and his fingers and knees didn't stop shaking when he eventually stepped through the door. There was a brief fear that he wouldn't be able to go in, that he wouldn't be invited. His brother must not have lived here, or Alex was always welcome, because he stepped through the threshold no problem. His brother was turned away from the door, and if Alex needed any breath, it would have been caught in his throat for good. Yet he managed to coax out one singular word:

"Cas?"

@caspiandomergue