#oc: cirdan takeshi

[modernmisadventures]

Chapter 2: Reactions

It took three locks to get into Cirdan and Varrus’s apartment. This was on top of the secured access, the doorman-cum-guard dog in the lobby, and the keycard required to take the elevator all the way up to their floor. For Cirdan, it was just another day - for Varrus, it was something of another matter. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it.

But tonight, his head was too full of questions - and a pair of large, brown eyes - for him to do more than feel a momentary anxiousness at the procedure. As soon as the door swung shut at their backs and they entered the well-appointed sitting room of their apartment, he pounced. “So, that girl. Who was she?”

Cirdan didn’t answer immediately, making his way through the seating towards the kitchen. He slipped inside and moments later Varrus could hear the refrigerator open. “Come in here while I see if there’s anything to eat,” called the Au Ra.

"You just downed two drinks and an entire plate of nachos and you're still hungry?" Varrus couldn't help but shake his head with a snort - gods knew that man had a bottomless appetite, for more than just food. All the same, he settled himself onto a stool at the island, but refused to let his friend off so easily. 

"You can talk and forage at the same time. So, what's the deal?"

“Ugh.” Cirdan bent down and stuck his head in the fridge, wondering for the thousandth time why he didn’t just get a side-by-side. “There’s shit all in here. I’m going to order in some Doman food. The usual?” Without waiting for the Elezen to respond, he slid his tomephone from his pocket and placed the order.

Varrus was almost certain he was stalling on purpose, and waited in impatient silence.

Finally, Cirdan tucked his phone in his pocket and sighed. “You heard her. Her name is Ciprys.” More silence, and he cursed. “We kind of grew up together. Her parents moved into our neighborhood when her mother was still pregnant, and I was about two. I don’t remember much, except my mother wasn’t very thrilled to have academic-types in her domain.” The Au Ra hardly had to explain more; though Varrus had never met his mother, he’d been treated to plenty of diatribes about her high-class - and high-maintenence - ways.

“Anyway,” he continued, slipping out of the kitchen and collapsing onto one of the overstuffed chairs, which creaked ominously beneath the weight of his plus-seven-feet frame, “her parents were also quite close to the Satrap of Radz-at-Han, so father couldn’t do anything about it without making more waves than he was willing to at the time. So they stayed, and mostly they stayed out of our way.”

He stared up the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts until Varrus pointedly cleared his throat. “I probably actually met her for the first time when she was six and I was eight. One of my father’s men was dressing me down; I’ve forgotten why, now.” He smiled. “It wasn’t important. It was summer, and hot, and I didn’t want to stand there on the sidewalk in front of her house getting chewed out because I’d done something any eight-year old would do. All of a sudden, she comes tearing out of the house, yelling at the man to stop being ‘such a bully’. You know how auri women are so tiny compared to the men?”

Varrus nodded.

“Well, they’re always that tiny. She’s six years old, all of three fulms nothing, and she comes tearing across her yard and plants herself right between me and… gods, I don’t even remember his name.” Cirdan’s smile is surprisingly tender, given his usually fierce demeanor. “And she proceeded to let him know how it’s not right to yell at a kid, and you shouldn’t pick on people smaller than you, and didn’t his mother raise him right to not throw a tantrum in public?

“The guy… Jaiko, I think - yeah. Jerky Jaiko. He drew himself up, affronted. I think he might have struck her, but I reached out and pulled her back, and if he’d hit her, he might have hit me. My father’s men, they could yell at me, especially if I was being stupid, but my father would have had their horns if they’d laid a hand on me.” Varrus wasn’t entirely certain that was simply a figure of speech. Cirdan had never exactly told him what he and his father did - but Varrus wasn’t entirely dense.

He just liked having plausible deniability.

Cirdan inhaled deeply. “Her mother comes streaking out of the house, pale with fear. I held up a hand to her - it was a gesture my father used all the time - and she stopped dead in her tracks. I very carefully told Jaiko that the little girl was right, that he was being rude, and that I expected to hear no more on this matter. It was the first time I’d ever stood up to one of my father’s men when they were picking on me. And damned if he didn’t turn as pale as Ciprys and draw himself up. ‘Yes, Master Cirdan’ he said - just as he often said to my father - and he turned and walked away.

“As he left, Ciprys pulled out of my hands,” Cirdan continued, his smile positively sloppy at this point, “turned around, and informed me that she was not ‘a little girl’. ‘I’m Ciprys Dreamweaver’, she said to me, very regally, ‘and you may thank me now.’. Gods,” he sighed. “She hasn’t changed a damn bit. Anyway. I thanked her, and she smiled and very politely told me I was welcome, then went to her mother, took her mother’s hand, and led her back into the house. We were fairly inseparable after that, for a very long time. Her parents hated it. My parents hated it. They learned very early on we didn’t give a damn and if they tried to keep us apart, we’d simply sneak out and meet up anyway. Then I had to go to Doma for a few years to serve in the Master’s household, and while I was gone, she went off to college. I figured that was the end of that. But she’s here,” he whispered. “And damned if I didn’t miss her.”

“So… Did you ever…?” Varrus let the word hang, his intent clear - it was evident just how much the woman meant to his friend. So much so that he couldn’t help if their reunion had been entirely coincidental. Cir had never spoken such words about any of his partners - and Varrus had had the misfortune of meeting a few in the early mornings after his buddy’s escapades, but they were always in and out, never the same each night; hells, he’d never even known any of their names, the rare occasions he did meet them. 

So to hear Cir speak so happily, candidly about this Ciprys woman… Well, it was clear she was special. Beyond special. 

Cirdan was quiet for a moment, mulling over the question. “No. No, we didn’t. She was sixteen when I left for Doma - and maybe she was willing, but I wasn’t. Not with her. I didn’t want - she wasn’t…” He trailed off, frowning, and this may have been the first time Varrus had ever seen him so uncertain. “I wasn’t going to do that to her - not when I was leaving and no idea when I’d be back, or what her life would be. So no. We never.” Then he smiled, slow and lazy. “But there’s always tomorrow, now that I know where she is.”

“You, with the same person, more than a single night? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Varrus snorted - though it was a bit of false bravado; there was little that would bring him more joy than seeing his best friend truly, truly happy with another.

Though he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the sounds that would be coming from the shared wall between their bedrooms. 

“Well, come on, loverboy.” He plopped down onto the seat opposite the Au Ra. “Food’s gonna be here soon; what say we get a few rounds in? Winner gets the third egg roll.” With a smirk, he tossed the second controller to Cir, knowing he’d absolutely just lost himself a bet - a shame, really. He loved those egg rolls. 

Unfortunately for him, so did Cir. And Cir had one advantage.

He cheats.

Ciprys didn’t quite slam the door shut behind her - but it was a near thing. Her mother’s voice was still ringing against her horns, but she blocked it out with the ease of long practice. It was all piss and wind; her mother had never had the fortitude to follow through on any of her threats. Not that Ciprys particularly tested that - she loved her mother and father, and she recognized that their overbearing nature came from anxiety about raising her so far away from kith and kin.

But she was twenty-one years old, by the gods, and she deserved to have her own damn life. 

“I need a job,” she said to the air. “I need to stop racking up degrees and just get a damn job with them.”

Her parents would be surprised to find out that rather than being a dilettante who had been in school for nearly four years now with nothing to show for it that she’d actually managed to scrape up two degrees and was on the verge of a third. Refusing to walk or be announced by the school had simply been one more way of taking control of her own life. And since her grades had been exceptional - as expected - the U had been more than willing to indulge her, even against two of their more valuable professors.

But she didn’t want a job. Not one that had her tied to a desk, or a bar, or a building. She wanted to travel, she wanted to see places she’d only heard of, meet people she’d never known existed. She wanted to experience the world first-hand… and she wanted to capture it, she mused as her roaming eye fell upon the camera tucked on her dresser, through a lens, then share it with the rest of the world.

And her parents would never go for it. Without a means of support, that dream was just a dream - she’d known that the moment she’d fallen in love with photography and made it her second degree. They’d never let her out of the city - and if they knew how far away she wanted to go, they’d never let her out of the house. And without a job, she’d never have the means to break those gilded chains.

It all circled back. And why, she wondered, was she thinking of this now?

Jess. Something had changed between the moment she’d walked into the bar tonight, and the moment she’d walked out. She’d already started growing fond of the bartender - and a bit envious of her freedom, her freedom to work, to live away from her parents, to have a life that hadn’t been decided before she was born.

And now there was that other woman - the other Au Ra. The teacher. Someone living the life her parents had imagined for her and happy with it. More than anything, that had made it all hit home: she didn’t want that. She didn’t want the same thing, day after day. She didn’t want the papers, the students, the responsibility.

She wanted to spread her wings.

And if she could just find a degree of independence, it wouldn’t matter what her parents thought of Cir-

No.

Five years. Why hadn’t he told her he was back? How long had he been back? He’d never said anything in the texts, the emails, the little gifts he’d sent anonymously.

Why?

With a grunt, she flung herself on her bed and brooded at the moon rising outside her window. And did her best not to dream a dream of turquoise eyes and wide, spreading wings.

“Can I walk you home?”

“The answer is still no,” Kal’istae replied evenly, ignoring Thancred’s soft sound of disappointment. “I appreciate the invite to the bar, though. I enjoyed meeting your sister.”

Doing his best not to sulk - and how was that even a thing? - Thancred strode along at her side, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Scamp? She’s one of a kind. Minfilia’s more reserved, and Ryne’s more like a daughter, but Jess is exactly the kind of younger sister I wanted growing up.” The affection in his voice was real and rich, and Kal’istae had no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

Kal’istae let her eyes drift up towards the stars above them, nearly drowned out from the lights of the city. “Is that why you do it?”

“One reason, perhaps,” Thancred replied, only half of his mind on the conversation. “There’s a lot more to it than just filling in the gaps, of course, and it’s mostly for their sakes, not mine - but I’d be lying if I said I got nothing out of it.”

Kal’istae tried to ignore the prick of her conscience, the whisper of her unconscious that suggested that perhaps saying yes, just this once, wouldn’t hurt. She was not interested in leading him on. She liked their relationship exactly where it was - non-existent with a side of friendship.

So why did you go to the bar with him?

Gritting her teeth, she shoved the errant thought away. “Here is where we part ways,” she said instead, indicating the entrance to the underground. “I’ll see you around, Thancred.”

If by around you mean next Wednesday when he inevitably swings by your classroom during his weekly visit to the school.

Well, of course. If he didn’t, she’d probably be very disappointed. Worried, even. Except when he’d had to go out of town, he’d come by every Wednesday like clockwork…

As the thought trailed off, she stared at him as he waited, gazing at her with a puzzled expression.

Oh hells.

“Good night, Thancred,” she said, just a bit faintly. “I’ll see you… I’ll see you.”

His smile was slow, and just a little smug. “Good night, Kali,” he replied, backing away. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Yes. Yes he would. And she would be waiting.

Oh. Hells.

[ainyan]

Day #19: Weal

weal

noun

Prosperity; happiness: in weal and woe.

A ridge on the flesh raised by a blow; a welt.

She hissed as he gently swiped the washcloth over her back, washing away the oils he’d used. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Not like this,” he murmured, skimming his thumb lightly along the weals he’d raised in her skin, thin purple lines criss-crossing amidst the pearlescent scales that graced her back.

“You didn’t hurt me,” she murmured, though the hint of pain in her voice belied her words. “You didn’t do anything to me I didn’t ask for.”

Lowering his head, Cirdan brushed his lips across the welts, reading them like braille where they rose from her skin, writing the story of their lovemaking. She hissed again, then sighed, and he felt her muscles relax as she sank into the bed. “Still. I was perhaps a bit overzealous in my attentions. Wait here. I have some ointment that will help.”

Of course he did. She had little doubt he made use of it himself after a bout with one of his guards, or a run through the gym. Closing her eyes, she turned her head and tucked it against his pillow, inhaling deeply of the scents of sweat and sex and incense, scents that had always reminded her of him, no matter how far apart they’d been.

She felt when he returned, when the bed shifted heavily beneath him as he settled down beside her once more. She heard him unscrew the cap on the ointment jar, then gasped softly as he touched the cool cream to the still smarting weals. “Oh!”

“It will numb them soon, I promise,” he murmured, but she could already feel it sinking in, deadening the pain and easing the discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

She waited until he was done, then twisted and caught his hand, drawing it to her naked breasts. He gazed down into her lavender eyes. “Don’t be.” Then she grinned slyly. “Didn’t we always promise each other, for weal or woe?”

He gave a startled laugh, then shook his head at her, curling his fingers around hers. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s what they meant by that saying,” he chided her.

She drew their hands up and kissed his knuckles, and he hissed softly as she nipped at them. “Maybe not, but it works.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. “It works. And so do we.”

FFXIVWrite2023 Day #19: Weal

OCs: Ciprys Dreamweaver, @sylaurin's Cirdan Takeshi

AU: Misadventures in Modern Eorzea

[ -- Master Post: FFXIVWrite2023 -- ]

[modernmisadventures]

Chapter 17: Breaking Baddies

“Are you sure this is a Family place? Looks a bit run-down for one of theirs.”

“He’s been seen here like four or five times just in the past few weeks. Ain’t no way this isn’t a front.”

“I dunno. He brings the geek. Thought intel said the geek ain’t Family.”

“Enough.” The sharp bark cut through the soft whisper of conversation, instantly silencing it. The two tall men hovering outside of The Bar’s closed and locked door glanced back apprehensively as a third man materialized out of the foggy gloom. His pale blue eyes were cold and dispassionate as he stared down at his minions from a height exceeding theirs by at least half a fulm. “Regardless of whether this property belongs to the Family, the heir has a vested interest in it, given his consistent visits.” His eyes slid past the small corner tavern and took in the rest of the street. “My father does not wish the Family to establish themselves a base so close to our territory, so would appreciate it if we would send an appropriate message making his wishes clear.”

He lifted his hand and pointed at the door with the long cane that his minions knew was far more than a simple affectation; the silver-chased shaft had left its impression on far too many bodies and skulls. “Now. Break, like the good dogs you are.”

The two hulking Roegadyn goons exchanged looks, then shrugged and turned to the door of The Bar. One of them set his shoulder and ducked his head, then shoved against the edge of the door. There was a crackling noise, then the door splintered at the edges and flew open, admitting them into the dark, lifeless building. They didn’t even bother looking back at the man directing them - they simply swarmed into the room and began to lift chairs from tabletops, smashing them.

Meanwhile, the man commanding them flowed in, his eyes fixed on the long, polished bar against the back, with its wall of oak and glass shelves stacked neatly with bottles of liquor. He sighed. “What point is mindless violence if there is naught to fight but the inanimate? No better than wielding one’s weapon against the useless masses.”

He sighed again - but his complaints did not stop him from lifting his cane and swinging it through the bottles, shattering them and sending alcohol raining to the floor in an unholy mixture that reflected the light of the red moon outside like blood.

Jess barely registered the flurry of activity around her as she sat on the wet curb, her eyes glued to the puddles forming by her feet. She couldn’t stop her mind from replaying the events over and over and over in her head. 

Damn it. She was better than that. Smarter than that.

Stronger than that. 

It had all happened so fast; she heard the thieves before she saw them, heard the shattering glass and breaking furniture from her room in the cellar. She’d managed to subdue one, to take the Roegadyn by surprise and throw him to the ground - but she hadn’t anticipated the second. Or the third. 

And they’d not shown kindness. 

She’d told the investigators everything she remembered - two Roegadyn men and a… Garlean, if she had to guess, judging by the third’s size. Not that she saw much more than that, as they’d quickly knocked her to the floor. And just as quick as it had happened, they were gone.

The investigators had told her they’d only taken one item: her new computer. But why? The fine, aged wines, the till, the tip jar, everything else was left untaken, if not unbroken. 

It didn’t make sense.

None of it made sense. 

Jess flinched as she felt something cold stinging her forehead; glancing up, she caught sight of a chirurgeon gently wiping the blood from her forehead. 

“I’m fine,” she insisted once more, echoing the message she’d sent to her friends and family earlier that night - Bar robbed. I’m fine. Not the most eloquent, she knew - nor was she truly fine - but it was the most she could muster in that moment. 

It was only with the sound of footsteps slapping the wet concrete that she glanced up, finding a most unexpected, familiar face hurrying towards her, through the crowd of officers and past the crime scene tape. 

Ciprys darted through the police, ignoring their startled shouts as she used her small size to her shameless advantage. Reaching Jess, she skidded to a halt before her friend, hands planted on her thighs as she drew in several ragged breaths. “What the hell happened?” she demanded. “Why is there blood?” Turning to the chirurgeon working steadily to treat the hyur’s injuries, she repeated her question. “Why is there blood?”

While she pestered the medic, Cirdan strode through the crowd and ignored the crime-scene tape, stepping over it and approaching the two detectives studying the scene. One of them eyed him with a sigh. “This wasn’t your goons, was it?” he asked the Au Ra.

“Of course not,” came the sharp reply. “We’d never be this crass - and I’d never endanger a… friend.” Easier to claim that than explain the ins and outs of the relationship. “And no need to hit it anyway - this is our territory, and Buscarron is paid up and then some.”

“Figured as much,” said the older of the pair as he studied the damage to the bar beyond. “We’ll need to run an inventory, but the bartender said the only thing taken that she could see was her computer. Didn’t even bother swiping the top shelf; most of what was on display in the main bar was destroyed, but beyond the floor, everything’s intact.”

Cirdan frowned. “Her computer? Wait, the one…” He trailed off, turning to study the hyur sitting on the curb. Ciprys was now pestering the medic, demanding he treat her faster. He was patiently ignoring the indignant auri female, working steadily through the injuries he could find. “Hmm.”

The detective gave him the beady eye. “If you know something, Takechi, spill it,” he suggested, his voice low. “I don’t need any inter-gang shit on my watch.”

The tall Au Ra ignored the threat in the midlander’s voice. “I don’t, not yet, but I’ll wager Garleans. My father says they’ve been getting greedy. I don’t know why they’d hit this place, though. I promise you, Jess knows nothing. Has nothing. She’s my girl’s friend.”

The younger detective smirked, his cheerful lalafellan face ill-suited for the lascivious expression. “Gossip pages have you matched with some lady back in Kugane. What’s she doing making time with a bartender on the East Side?”

Cirdan ignored him. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” he told the hyur.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “Awfully cooperative of you.”

The Au Ra’s smile held no humor. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t handle things. I just said I’d share information. Garleans have no honor; they don’t deserve consideration. And both my father and I frown upon bringing turf wars into our own district.”

The detective pursed his lips and gazed back towards the bar. “Won’t argue. I like this place. Good atmosphere. Cute bartender. Good drinks. And Buscarron deserves better. So no. Won’t argue.”

“Good.”

“Cip?” Jess asked in confusion. Involuntarily, she found herself reaching over with shaking hands and taking her friend’s hand into her own. “What are you doing here? What- Ah!” The Highlander ducked with a hiss as the chirurgeon wiped some manner of stinging liquid across her cheek. “I said I’m fine!” 

Of course, truth be told, she had no idea what the extent of her injuries were - only that there was, indeed, blood - regretfully her own - and that her head hurt like fuck. But she could still move each of her limbs, still had her tongue and her sight, and… and still had her life. In the end, that was all that mattered. 

“You’re not,” Cip said flatly, wrapping her fingers firmly around Jess’s. “You’ve got cuts and bruises and don’t think I don’t see that knot on your head. Doesn’t matter how thick your skull, you need to have it tended.”

“I can help with that.” Kal’istae melted out of the crowd, while Thancred darted past her and came up on Ciprys’s other side, kneeling down and reaching out to take Jess’s chin in his hand, turning her head gently. “I’m a certified astrologian,” she explained to the chirurgeon. “I can check for any sign of concussion and deal with any swelling or bleeding.”

“Fine by me,” the medic replied as he continued to treat the surface wounds. “Let me just finish patching her up and she’s all yours. ‘Scuse me, sir.” Thancred edged out of his way and moved to sit on the curb beside his sister, wrapping his arm loosely around her waist.

Kal’istae pulled her orrery from the bag she’d flung over her back when the text had come in; fortunately, it was second nature for her to bring her working bag whenever she wasn’t home - just in case of magical emergency. It spun to life above her outstretched palm and she closed her eyes, letting her aether sink into Jess’s head.

Thancred ignored her as she began to work, his focus on his sister. “Jess, I’m so sorry,” he was saying. “I never dreamed anyone would dare hit Buscarron’s place. He’s a staple of this neighborhood - has been as long as I’ve been here and way before that.”

Jess would have said the sudden attention and company felt rather overwhelming - had she not been thoroughly overwhelmed already. Instead, she leaned her smarting head against Thancred, sidling up to him and thankful for the familiar comfort he always provided. 

“I- I don’t get it,” she murmured for not the first time that night, her eyes watching the raindrops hitting the puddles on the road. Though Kali’s magicks were a welcome relief from the pain, they did little to quell the unease within the woman. “I don’t know them. I’m certain I’ve never seen them in the bar before. I… I wasn’t strong enough, Thancred,” she admitted, a shudder in her voice. “I tried. I…”

“Shhh.” Thancred stroked her hair gently and turned his head to press his lips against her head. “There were three of them, Jess. Even you couldn’t take on three big guys.” His eyes cut towards Cirdan, hardened as he saw the Au Ra talking with the detectives, frowning into the building. “And I’ll bet you anything they probably had their own training. Just be glad you were able to keep yourself relatively whole.”

Aether swirled about Kal’istae’s hand as she continued to work carefully within Jess’s head. “Even the head injury isn’t particularly serious,” she murmured, her voice soft, distracted. “Needed to be treated, but not enough to rush to the hospital over.”

The medic bandaged the last of her wounds. “You handled it well,” he assured her, and fished around in his pocket to offer her a lollipop with a grin. Ciprys sniffed at it, then gave him a wide-eyed look. He gave it to her instead, snickering, and took out another for Jess. “I’d like you to follow up with your own doctor in a few days, make sure everything’s healing well.” He glanced at Kal’istae as she closed her hand and lowered her orrery, eyes opening. “Or just have the lady healer take a look-see,” he added, with just a hint of deference.

Kal’istae nodded. “Of course, I’d be happy to if you like.” Tucking her globe back in her bag, she sank onto the curb next to Thancred and reached for his hand. He twined his fingers with hers, squeezing gently, but never turned away from his sister.

“Thank you all,” Jess murmured quietly, closing her eyes. “You didn’t all need to come like this…” Yet she appreciated the company all the same. “I know it’s early… I think… is it?” The moons still hung in the sky, and the thugs had come well past closing time, she was sure. Taking the lollipop, she couldn’t help but follow Thancred’s gaze to the Au Ra chatting with the officers, a feeling of dread hitting her stomach.

“Cip,” she whispered, “does Cirdan have anything to do with this?”

Ciprys followed Thancred’s gaze as well, then frowned at the male hyur. “No,” she told Jess shortly, then sighed. “At least, not directly, I imagine. He’d never do anything to put his friends in danger - not on purpose. And this is his Family’s district; he’d have no reason to hit The Bar, I promise.”

Thancred’s scowl deepened. “His kind rarely need a reason for the turmoil they cause,” he muttered, ignoring the pale Au Ra’s dark look. 

“That’s not fair,” Ciprys murmured, her voice barely audible over the general chatter of the cops as they swarmed the place, looking for clues or whatever it is they did to crime scenes. “Even if his family were the rough type - which they aren’t,” she insisted, “he’d be an idiot to bloody his own damn backyard. And he knows I’d hand him his ass if he ever endangered a friend of mine.”

Thancred wanted to protest - but even he couldn’t deny the way the big Au Ra doted on his tiny… whatever she was. “Still.” Sighing, he drew Kali’s hands to his cheek, nuzzling against it as he continued to hold Jess. “And don’t even suggest we didn’t have to come. You’re family.” His eyes drifted to Ciprys. “You’re family,” he repeated, and closed his eyes.

Kal’istae stroked a hand through his hair. “Take her home, Thancred,” she suggested gently. “I can come by and grab the rest of my things later, but she shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

“No,” Jess stubbornly shook her head, Kal’istae’s words hitting her - they’d been together, and she’d interrupted it. “No, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to ruin your night… Or, I guess, it’s kind of late for that.” She sighed, casting a glance at the broken door behind her - and, as much as she hated to admit it, Kali had a point. She couldn’t well sleep in an active crime scene, even if she’d wanted to go back inside. 

Gods… what was she going to do? The bar was her only means of livelihood, her job and her home. Without it… 

She shut her eyes once more with a shudder, leaning into the Hyur at her side. “I’m sorry, Thancred.”

“You are not at fault for any of this, scamp,” Thancred reassured her, pressing a kiss to her head. “And you didn’t ruin anything, I promise. Kali and I were enjoying dinner and a movie and some talking, and things got too late. She stayed in my bed.” He turned his head slightly so he could smirk at the Au Ra. “Virtuously alone.”

The indigo Au Ra smirked right back and squeezed his hand, then released it, rising to her feet and brushing off the seat of her pants. “Believe me when I say there will be other times, Jess,” she reassured the other woman. “We’re not in any rush with this. You ruined nothing.”

Ciprys reached out and patted Jess’s arm. “Don’t worry about it,” she advised. “As soon as they clear the scene, we can grab your things. I’m sure between all of us, we can find you a place to stay until…” She trailed off, lips pursing slightly. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. You’ve got friends and family, you don’t have to weather this alone.”

“That’s for certain.” For such a big man, Cirdan moved silently when he chose. At some point in the conversation, he’d ghosted up behind them. “Might take them a day or two to release the scene to your boss, a few more days for clean up, but I’ve ensured they’ll have a hand with that and with restocking as necessary.” He crouched down, tilting down his sunglasses to study her with those bright turquoise eyes. “It may not have been my fault, but I have a feeling I played a part in this all the same.”

Thancred bared his teeth and softly muttered, “You think?” Though the words were barely a breath of air, it was clear all three Au Ra, at least, heard what he said.

Ciprys drew a breath to berate him, but Cirdan cut her off with a single shake of his head. “From what the detectives said, it was Garleans. I don’t know why they hit - not yet,” he added grimly, “but I imagine it had something to do with my visits.” He hesitated, considering mentioning the computer angle - but elected to keep that to himself for now, still trying to puzzle out why the PC she and Varrus had built would have been a target. “I am sorry, though, and I will make this up to you and to Buscarron, I promise.”

Before Thancred could speak again, Kal’istae covered his mouth with her hand. “Consider your sister,” she advised. He sighed, but subsided.

“C’mon, scamp,” he murmured instead. “Let’s go home.”

“I… Thank you, Cirdan,” she mustered out. There was something… sincere, about the intimidating man’s words - and they carried an edge, though not one aimed at her. “Thank you all. I’ll be ok, I promise.” Shakily, she stood, Thancred’s arm still firmly around her as she prepared to let him guide her through the darkened streets. And, just like that, she felt like a child again - small, helpless, lost, relying on Thancred once more. 

Some things never change… 

“I’ll come by later for my things,” Kal’istae murmured as Thancred turned to her, his arm still firmly tucked about his sister. He leaned down and kissed her - almost an absent gesture, as it was clear his attention was, quite rightly, on Jess. Then turned and guided the younger woman away, leaving the others to watch them go. “Are you going back with Cirdan?” she asked Ciprys.

Ciprys hesitated, glancing at the tall Au Ra. “I was going to, but if you like, I can come back with you instead.” It was clear as lavender eyes met lavender-edged that neither Au Ra much relished the idea of being alone.

“Why don’t you both come back with me?” Cirdan offered instead. “I’d feel better. You can have the bed, and I’ll crash on the couch.”

Kal’istae gave a wry smile. “Seems it’s my night for kicking men out of their own beds. That sound okay?” she asked Ciprys hopefully.

The pale Au Ra reached out and grabbed her friend’s hand. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “C’mon, Cirdan. Walk us home.” She reached out with her other hand and took his, and they each took one last glance back at the bar, then headed off in the direction opposite Thancred and Jess, towards the building that housed the Au Ra and his mysteriously missing roommate.

The sound of sudden commotion roused Varrus from his slumber; eyes narrowed, he cast a glance towards the clock at his nightstand. 

4 am.

While hearing Cir stomp inside with what sounded like a host of women wasn’t exactly an unusual disturbance, doing so so late - or, rather, early - was a bit unusual. Groggily, he pulled himself out of bed and stuck his head out the door - only to find Cirdan accompanying Ciprys, which wasn’t unusual at all, as of late, and the Au Ra Varrus recognized as Kal’istae, Jess’ friend from the bar. 

“What’s going on?” he muttered, stifling a yawn. Last he knew, the darker-skinned Au Ra was seeing Jess’ brother; not that that excluded her from enjoying Cirdan’s company, but he hadn’t exactly gotten the impression the Hyur liked to share.

Cirdan hesitated, blinking tiredly at Varrus. Oh, fuck. The thought flickered through his mind. He probably should have let the Elezen know, but as soon as Ciprys had gotten the text from Jess, she’d dragged him from bed and barely let him get dressed before they’d rushed off to help her friend. “Uh,” he said blankly.

Ciprys and Kal’istae exchanged a look. “Uhm,” they said together, then Ciprys sighed and shrugged. “There was… a break-in. At the bar. Jess is okay,” she added hurriedly, knowing that something was going on there - even if it was maddeningly slow. “She’s with Thancred - her brother - right now. We brought Kali back here because no one wants to be alone.”

Kal’istae, a bit out of the loop but quick enough on the uptake, smiled tiredly. “I bet she’s still awake if you wanted to text her and check up on her,” she suggested. “But I’m beat. I hadn’t been down all that long when Thancred woke me.”

Ciprys squeaked. “Right,” she said hurriedly. “Cir’s room is up here. C’mon, I’ll show you.” She cast a look at the male Au Ra that clearly said ‘make this right’, then grabbed Kal’istae’s hand and dragged her towards the spiraling staircase that led upstairs to the master bedroom.

“What?!” Varrus gasped, instantly awake. “Is she ok?” A stupid question, granted, given that Cip had just told him so, yet he felt compelled to ask nonetheless. “You could have brought her here - gods know it’s safer than anywhere else she could be. Were they just simple thieves? Did they take anything? Did they hurt her? Fuck, why didn’t you wake me up?!” He paused his onslaught of questions only long enough to take a breath - he shouldn’t have been so worked up, not really, over someone he barely knew. Yet, all the same, he stared at his friend, awaiting some sort of answer. 

Damn those girls. Cirdan glared briefly after them, then turned back to Varrus. Fortunately, his sunglasses hid his dour look. “I think Thancred might have done something terribly rash if I’d even suggested as much. She’s safe enough with him,” he added, although he wasn’t entirely certain that was the truth. He knew little enough about the psychologist - though he intended to learn more. “And I didn’t wake you up because I was barely awake when Ciprys dragged me out of here. I’m sorry. I know you’re… friendly.”

He paused there and turned towards the kitchen, gesturing for the Elezen to follow. Pulling open the wall-panel that hid the built-in liquor cabinet, he hunted through the booze for an open bottle of whiskey. “I don’t think they were simple thieves,” he admitted softly. “I think they were Garlean thugs. And I don’t know why they hit The Bar, but… Varrus,” he said slowly, pouring a finger each in two glasses, “they took the computer you built her. Did you… put anything on it?” He handed over the glass. “Drink,” he said. “You hate it, I know, but it’ll calm your nerves.”

“The computer?” Varrus furrowed his brows, slowly shaking his head. “It was top of the line, I admit I may have gone a bit overboard with it, but there wasn’t anything on the drives save for the operating system and a couple of games. Just the absolute basics. They… wouldn’t know the value of it unless they were also computer nerds, which, somehow, I doubt.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows against the marble, downing the offered shot - only to cough as it hit him like a ball of fire. “I don’t get it. What would Garleans want with a gaming PC?” 

His thoughts grew more and more muddled by the second - a PC? Just a PC? Had they… He’d been the one to give her that PC. Was it his fault that they targeted her? Granted, he’d expected her to take it home with her, not leave it in the bar… 

“Who knows.” Cirdan had his thoughts, but nothing he was willing to share with the Elezen right now. “It’s possible they’d intended to grab more, but Jess startled them and they ran before the police could get there. He downed his drink, grimaced. “Not my drink of choice.” Placing the glass in the sink, he glanced up the stairs towards his bedroom, where the women were no doubt curled up in his bed. “I don’t suppose you’d object to a roommate tonight, would you?” he asked suddenly. “My couch doesn’t exactly fit me stretched out.”

With a sigh, the Elezen slowly nodded. “That’s fine, come on - just no groping in my sleep, if you don’t mind.” He’d find a way to make it up to her, to make it right… somehow. 

“Awww,” Cirdan teased as he followed the Elezen towards bed.

Thancred unlocked the door to his apartment and nudged it open, propelling Jess inside. As he shut the door behind him, he scanned the room to make certain everything was in relative order. The open floor plan made the small one-bedroom apartment feel much more spacious than it was, and the wide bank of windows leading to the balcony outside increased the illusion of size. The long kitchen ran more than half the length of the living room - of the entire apartment, it was the room Jess would be most familiar with, having learned much about the basics of cooking here with Thancred.

Fortunately, there was nothing incriminating left scattered around - the heavy blanket he kept on the couch was crumpled upon it where he’d shoved it when G’raha’s frantic phone call had awakened him. He’d been too deeply asleep to note the message text, but the miqo’te often spent late nights researching for his Archon’s thesis and happened to be awake when the message had come through. 

That reminded him. “Go clean up in the bathroom. I’ll get you something to sleep in,” he told Jess, pulling out his phone as he strode towards the bedroom. She’d have to follow; there was no entrance to the bathroom from the main room, but he already knew his bedroom was mostly spotless.

He’d spent a good hour cleaning it in anticipation of the night’s date, and what little Kal’istae had left behind was neatly stacked in his armchair.

Shoving thoughts of Kal’istae from his mind, he sat down on the edge of his bed and shot off a quick text to the family to let them know what happened and that Jess was safe with him. Then he tossed his phone aside and shoved himself up, moving to rummage in his dresser for a pair of loose work-out shorts and a t-shirt that would fit her. That done, he settled back down on the bed to wait for her, brooding.

Jess nodded numbly, shuffling into the bathroom - only to sharply inhale at what met her eyes in the mirror. She knew she'd been roughed up, of course, but the extent of the cuts and bruises lining every bit of exposed skin was horrific. As was the blood staining her old, loose shirt and baggy PJ pants - entirely hers, she shamefully acknowledged. 

While a shower was the most logical course of action, her legs felt ready to give at a moment's notice. But the tub, on the other hand, invitingly beckoned to her eyes. 

She leaned down, filling it with the hottest water she could muster before shedding her old clothing and sinking in, finally allowing herself to relax - at least an ilm or two. 

It had all been so much… too much. And now she had nothing, for not the first time in her life. 

No. Not nothing. She'd escaped with her life, and that… that was something to be thankful for. 

But all her troubles melted away the longer she lay in the tub… as did her consciousness, and she finally closed her eyes and gave up the fight to stay awake. 

Thancred heard the water running and grinned. Truthfully, he might have recommended a bath had she not taken it upon herself to run one. Leaving the clothes neatly stacked on the end of the bed, he slipped out of the bedroom and wandered towards the kitchen. He thought perhaps a nice pot of hot chocolate might soothe her nerves - and his own.

Some of his colleagues told him that he got too close and personal with his kids. His own boss tried to remind him again and again it was the job of a social worker to be impartial. Of course, Gaius has no room to talk, he thought wryly, considering he’s adopted five of his own kids. At least Thancred hadn’t gone quite that far.

Yet.

He got out the milk, got out the cocoa and the sugar, snagged a chocolate bar from his emergency supply. Vanilla and cinnamon rounded out the ingredients, and as he set them all on the counter and took out a pan, he began to hum to himself.

He didn’t bother with the apron hanging from his pantry door; his clothes were a bit beat up and bedraggled from the evening’s events and they’d just end up in the laundry anyway. He heated the milk in a sauce pan, adding the cocoa and sugar and whisking it briskly while it simmered. Once it was hot enough, he broke chunks of the chocolate bar into it and continued to whip it until the chocolate was fully melted and the mixture was creamy and smooth. Last touch was the vanilla, and then he poured the results into two mugs - one from some conference he’d attended a few years ago, and one that said ‘#1 Dad’ Ryne had gotten him for a gift last year.

He added a bit of grated cinnamon and briefly wished he’d had time to whip up some cream - but perhaps later. Leaving his mug on the island for him to grab when he came back out, he took Jess’s into the bedroom.

She wasn’t out yet, and he eyed the bathroom door thoughtfully. “Damn it,” he murmured mildly, then set her mug on the bedside table and grabbed his robe from the hook over the door. He entered the bathroom, calling out softly, “Are you awake?”

Silence.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had to rescue an exhausted charge from his bathtub, and he doubted it would be the last. Always a bit stickier when it was one of his sisters, but he managed to fumble her out of the water and into his robe without too much flashing, and from there it was a short step into his bed. He left her in his robe; he wasn’t about to wrestle her into the clothes, and left those where she could find them.

The hot chocolate remained on the bedside table; if she woke within the next half hour, it would still be good. If not, he could always make her another mug when she did.

He left the light on in the bathroom and half-closed the door, then exited the bedroom, leaving that door cracked so he could listen for any disturbance. Then he took his own hot chocolate and his current novel and tucked himself on his couch, sipping while he read, and watched, and waited for the sun to rise.