#qtraxler

[wildroseofarran]

From the Wastes Into the Rain, Part I || Kelly, Rune, Quintane, & Pete || November, 2023

Rune: This trip was in dire need of reflection and meditation. Just his luck was normally a positive phrase in his regard. Having wandered too far in his sleep, somehow managing to cross doorways left and right, Felix Rune was startled awake by the sound of someone’s excruciating scream. Male, seemed like, and broken by the strain. The mage grabbed at his left ear, spinning towards the noise, only to see… nothing. Nothing beyond the sepia rain, sagging splintered trees, and broken cobblestone path being eaten by the crumbling nature of this dominion.

This was the Wasteland, and a waste of time. No one was ever truly here. An unmitigated realm of atrocities immortalized well before his existence. Before the existence of his mother, and a thousand generations before her. The realm was every Catholic’s nightmare. Every appalling torment and passive suffering man could fathom made its way here. Not to punish, not to dwell, but to teach. The Shadowlands were south of here. Battlegrounds lie beyond the rain. Wraiths were not interested in this place. They had an entire universe to themselves, and their own private Hells.

This was a beast in and of itself, and he must have walked here for a reason.

Rune lowered his hand from his ear. The small scars on the left side of his face warmed and his body stilled as the man screamed again.

He wasn’t real. This was just… a memory. That’s all this place was. If he kept his eyes forward, focused on just the one, the others could fade from his periphery. A woman in a chained box begging for food; a man crawling on his belly, dragging his dead and mangled feet by the sinew.

First come first serve. This man had screamed first. Must mean something.

“Ben je nog in leven?”

Rune: The stench of smoke hit his nostrils hard, but it was the stink of burning hair and flesh that slowed his pace. He tried again. Called out in his native tongue. Called out in Japanese. In hesitant Spanish.

“Are you still alive?”

Why couldn’t he find the carnage? There were memories here he didn’t want to see, and this one, the only one he wanted, he couldn’t.

The air had become hot and viscous. The Gauntlet. His hands rubbed vigorously together, warmed by primal static, he rubbed his palms against the brown gummy surface. The depth of color, the black at its core, reminded him of obsidian.

Harder and harder he rubbed. Like body heat against cold oil. Eventually, after what felt like an hour of diligence, a slit had been made just wide enough to squeeze through.

The sooner the better. He couldn’t have shimmied fast enough through the already tightening exit. This realm preferred its solitude, and couldn’t be bothered remaining open to the realm of its creation.

Autumn trees and cold grass. The threat of honest rain above and the scent of nearby hydrangeas. This wasn’t London. This... wasn’t London at all. Not where he had fallen asleep, anyway. Something in his gut told him he wasn’t anywhere in England.

But that could wait. Just five minutes. Covered in a sticky residue, having fallen out of – ah yes, a tree. Of course a tree. Just give him five minutes.

Kelly: Kelly Rose dug the heel of his hand into his hip and closed his eyes, cursing the coming rain for all he was worth. The bath he’d taken to ease the myriad aches in his body had helped but not enough.

Nothing was ever goddamn enough.

He limped into his kitchen for a bottle of water. It was darker now than it had been when he’d gotten into the bath. It was only afternoon, but the thick layer of storm clouds hanging over Edenton gave the appearance of late evening.

“Probably gonna rain all fucking night,” he sighed to himself, popping a couple of Vicodin. Just his luck.

He glanced out the window, vaguely wondering if it was dark enough for the light above his shed to have turned on, only to frown.

“What the f…”

He grabbed his cane and stepped out of the kitchen door and onto the back porch, staring at the man who had appeared in his yard.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my property?”

Rune: Despite the steam rising from his clothes, the prone man was shivering, hand hovering over his left ear, but it was all he could manage for movement. Stepping sideways to and fro through the Gauntlet was an arduous task. Exhausting despite a century of practice.

But what he had heard was English, and having the authorities called would be a pain in his ass. He had no excuse for the primal slime covering his body, and couldn't think of anything better to do than raise a shaking finger. The index, for starters.

Kelly: Kelly’s eyes narrowed as he studied the man before him, his head at an ever so slight inquisitive tilt.

Something was…off. Besides the fact that a man in a suit was in the middle of his yard, of course. There was the steam sure, and the presence of some kind of something all over him that was visible even from his distance. But there was also a scent in the air beneath the humidity that seemed at once foreign and familiar, and with it a niggling sensation that he should know what it was.

Unfortunately for the stranger, this was the wrong man to ask for patience in a situation like this.

“Are you drunk? High? How’d you get into my yard?”

Rune: With a groan and a sigh, Rune rolled onto his back, eyes forced open despite the rain. What kind of luck had him sidestepping into even more rain?

But that voice... he tried to focus his gaze.

"I'd like to be."

The stranger's face was young, but that cane added years. He didn't mind the scar. Had some of his own. He was no Verbena.

"You wouldn't believe me."

Kelly: Both the rain and a healthy sense of survival kept Kelly firmly rooted to the porch. He’d already had one experience with being caught off guard recently and he wasn’t looking for a second one.

Just because this man looked harmless laying on the dying grass and being pelted with cold rain didn’t mean he was harmless.

“Try me,” he said, eyes still narrowed in suspicion. There wasn’t any hostility in his gaze or in his voice (for now), just a heavy and palpable caution.

Rune: "Prima," the mage took a breath, tried to sit up, and managed to lean on his elbows. "I fell through that tree, I think. I was at a friend's house in London, then I was sleepwalking, and then ik - I think I heard your voice."

Let's just leave out it was the Atrocities Realm, and I think I know why you sound like a walking pack of cigarettes.

This had to be the screaming man. The scars, the cane, the voice; he just didn't know why. And it was nearly impossible to concentrate in this cold.

Kelly: An ordinary person, having heard the explanation this stranger gave, would have gone back inside with a quickness and called the cops.

A person like Kelly, by contrast, gave the tree in his yard a long, speculative look.

The man said he’d fallen through the tree, not out of it. Now, as far as Kelly knew, the tree wasn’t a portal, and certainly not a portal to London. For someone to have entered his yard through it, a portal would’ve had to be created.

Then there was the matter of his voice…

“You think you heard my voice,” he repeated in a neutral tone. “What makes you think it was me?”

Rune: Rune was just hoping his luck would rear its head in a minute. He didn't want some persuasive spell between them, tainting this acquaintance so soon.

"I'll freeze to death before I can explain," was his throwing a baited line.

Kelly: “Don’t be dramatic. Worst you’ll get is pneumonia.”

That being said, it was annoying having to talk across the yard and through the rain, however wise it was to do so. But he wasn’t about to let this man in his house just because he supposedly heard his disembodied voice in London and decided to trespass about it.

Kelly nodded toward a bench beneath one side of the porch. The stranger could have shelter from the rain if he so wished.

Rune: Ah. There was his luck. Still, his arms were heavy, and his legs were like jelly. Too much adrenaline in thinning the Gauntlet without previous existing tears in the rift. He felt his age when hobbling to his feet, taking a moment to rest, hunched over with his hands on his knees.

You play poker to not feel this way, he thought. And people looked forward to that? Idiots!

The closer his approach, the stronger the scent of mint and pine cut through the tar-like stench left behind by the Umbra. His invitation was taken before an objection could be made, leaving behind the sticky residue without so much as a warning as he dropped his full weight on the bench.

Kelly: Man, if Kelly didn’t know any better he would assume this man really was just drunk. Going through a portal didn’t normally cause the sort of fatigue he was seeing on display here.

Normally being the operative word there. With every passing second, it became more and more apparent that exactly nothing about this was normal.

Only the substance clinging to his visitor and the scent he assumed it was emanating were of interest to Kelly. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that he should know what it was.

“You’re out of the rain. Start talking.”

Rune: Dark eyes roamed his host from toes to eyes. Lingered on his angry scar, not bothering to pretend otherwise. He was in the middle of an internal debate, about how to even explain knowing someone's voice based on their scream. He'd lived long enough to know.

What he decided to go with felt just a little too intimate.

"I know your scream."

Kelly: His host, standing with his arms crossed, was dressed comfortably in sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt that covered the majority of the scars on his body. His hair was still damp from his bath and smelled of some sort of citrusy shampoo.

He would almost seem cozy and relaxed if not for cold skepticism in his eyes.

“You know my scream,” he repeated, perhaps a bit more sarcastically than he intended. “And apparently heard it all the way in London. Do you know what I’m about to say to you?”

Rune: Sarcasm or not, skepticism or not, the man was... pretty to look at. He needed some eye candy after his night.

"Know what not calling the police says about you?" The mage squinted. "You know screams have accents? You know what fire does to a voice?" That should confirm, shouldn't it?

Kelly: “I don’t scream.” It wasn’t an answer to any of the questions posed to him and positively reeked of layers and layers of defense mechanisms but intimate comments should always expect to meet a wall of resistance.

“You can’t identify someone based on a scream and even if you could, that still doesn’t explain how you ended up in my yard or why. Don’t be so quick to think I won’t call the cops.”

Rune: This wasn't a duel. Couldn't be called a battle of wits or any dispute. This was a trial, and a trial required evidence. He could have hobbled away by now. Could have forced himself back through the Gauntlet and hoped to keep his sanity, but he wanted to see how far this could go. Morbid curiosity.

"I followed your scream until I smelled smoke, extra crispy skin and hair. I followed until I hit a wall."

He scoffed and shook his head, droplets of water and muck flying every which way.

"I didn't hear you in London. I heard you in the Wasteland."

Kelly: The lightbulb finally went off in his head, prompting a very long, supremely exhausted sigh.

“You came out of the fucking Umbra. Of course you goddamn did.” Out of the Umbra and for his rotten luck, into his life.

The allusions to smoke and burning flesh would simply not be acknowledged, just like the comment about what fire did to voices. Acknowledging it would more than likely be interpreted as a willingness to answer questions or talk about it, which was most definitely not happening.

“Well, you found me. Consider your curiosity sated.”

Rune: "Hey, no fucking blasphemy."

Fingers combed through his hair, only to wince with surprise. Surprise out of plain forgetfulness. Now that he had found his man, he was finally aware of his body. More than adrenaline, he felt suffocated.

"I need a shower."

Kelly: “This is my house. I can blaspheme all I want. If god has a problem, he’s got a storm already brewing. He can strike me with fucking lightning.”

Kelly uncrossed his arms and leaned on his cane, nodding toward the side of the house as he opened the door.

“Hose is over there.”

Rune: Reckonings came in many forms, he almost said. He wanted to stay in whatever graces this was, so he kept his mouth shut. Maybe for an hour longer.

Fine. Guaranteed Umbra tar-jelly would make something interesting out of his grass. He'd call this probably-not-bluff and walk back into the rain. There was already a human-shaped darkness where he had landed.

At least it was never boring. The Mirror Zone made puddles surrounded by various mushrooms. The Null Zone caused sinkholes and enough tunnels to impress a gopher. What would the Wasteland create?

Kelly: A human-shaped darkness and weird happenings with the grass wouldn’t be out of place among everything else this particular yard had endured in the time Kelly had been living here.

Anything short of the house being swallowed up by the ground could be dealt with.

He had more important things to consider right now, like whether to call Leslie.

Leslie would probably get a wet stranger in his yard a towel…

Fine.

Rune: His host would return to a grumbling half-naked mage, muttering about the cotton fabric of his suit and never being able to recover his precious clothing. Soaked from head to toe with hair over his eyes and a puddle of unfortunate grime at his feet as he soaked his suit jacket with the hose. His shoes, his only salvageable possessions, sat neatly on the porch.

Kelly: While Kelly had been getting the towel, it had occurred to him to grab a garbage bag as well. He seriously doubted there was a single item the man had been wearing that hadn’t been ruined.

The bag was offered first. “There ain’t a hose in the world that’s gonna be able to save that suit.”

Rune: Where the hell was that accent from? he wondered. He looked from the hose to his precious suit to the bag with contempt.

"Did you bring me a shirt?"

Kelly: Kelly had to fight not to roll his eyes. Was this man really about to get precious about throwing his clothes away?

“You can borrow one after you shower.”

Rune: While one fought rolling his eyes the other was fighting a smile. Hello again, Lady Luck.

"Bedankt knapperd," he winked, stuffing his wallet into his shoes and stripping then and there what remained of his clothes, hesitating on his equally precious Calvin Klein boxers.

Those could wait.

Kelly: Kelly picked a spot above the stranger’s head and kept his eyes fixed there as he held out the towel, feeling distinctly like he’d just lost somehow.

He blamed Leslie Issott.

“Dry off before you step inside so you don’t drip all over the floor.”

Rune: "Aye aye, Captain." He had no name to give, so he couldn't be blamed. He'd make his way back around to dry off, otherwise that towel was useless.

Kelly: As soon as the towel changed hands, Kelly pushed the door open with his cane and pointed toward a corridor to the left of the kitchen.

“Bathroom is the first door on the right.”

Rune: A salute later, Rune made his way inside, as casual as he pleased. Wanting to take in his surroundings and anything outwardly unwelcoming.

Kelly: To say the surroundings were sparse was putting it generously.

There wasn’t much in the way of decor and the furniture had been chosen with an eye toward practicality rather than style, but the house was clean enough to pass a military inspection.

The only personal touches—if they could even be called that—were the grab bars around the bathtub in the bathroom.

Rune: Either he was ready to leave at a moment's notice, or hadn't the energy to try. Not at all colorful like his house in Curaçao. Not that he was ever there. The house had probably collected all the dust on the island.

He made his way to the bathroom and locked the door.

Kelly: With the click of the lock, Kelly finally felt like he was able to breathe out. Just what the hell had his life become in the last half hour?

First order of business.

He went into his bedroom and selected a plain black shirt he didn’t care if he ever got back and a pair of joggers. They were too big for his visitor but they had a drawstring. He could deal.

He grabbed a chair from the kitchen, set it outside the bathroom door, and put the clothes on it.

Second order of business.

{Text to Leslie} There’s a stranger in my shower and it’s your fault

Rune: Leslie stared at his phone for an entire sixty seconds of consternation.

{Text} What did I do?

Kelly: {Text} You got inside my head and made me be nice

Rune: {Text} Ok so you made a friend?

Kelly: {Text} Not exactly

{Text} Some guy fell through a portal in the tree in my backyard I didn’t know even existed

Rune: {Text} Since when did we have portals this close?!

Kelly: {Text} I don’t fucking know! But I’ll tell you what, it wasn’t there before

Rune: {Text} Sure it was a portal? Heard a loud thunderclap kinda noise?

Kelly: {Text} Man I don’t know, he was laying in my yard when I got out of the bath and said he fell through the tree

{Text} He was covered in umbra gloop, what else would it be if not a portal

Rune: Ohhhh. Oh. Leslie stared for another sixty seconds before calling Kelly's phone.

Kelly: “I only have a few minutes,” Kelly greeted in a low voice. “I don’t know how long he’s gonna be in the shower.”

Rune: "Kelly, I love you to death but why are - you don't think he's dangerous?"

Kelly: “He isn’t armed and if he was going to do something, he would’ve done it as soon as he saw my cane.”

Rune: Leslie wanted to protest the last remark but refrained.

"You said goop? Gloop. You're familiar with it?"

Kelly: "Familiar enough to know what it is and where it comes from."

Rune: Not a vampire, given the hour. Could have been anything else. What was he supposed to say?

"Never had a porter take me anywhere and wind up with gloop."

The word had put a smile in his voice.

"Glad you're safe, but the moment you're not, you know the song, ain't no mountain high enough. Have fun I guess." Something about those parting words hit his ear wrong. He rubbed at an itch on his chest.

Kelly: "If the tree wasn't a portal then he had to have created one right? Or fucking something, people don't just pop out of the Umbra and into people's yards." Kelly cast a glance toward the bathroom. Just what kind of power did the stranger in his house have?

"Have--Les, there's a rando in my house who's probably a mage! I want him out!"

Rune: Oh, he couldn't help the snort Kelly heard. Leslie squeezed at his nose and that helped a little. That was the response he was hoping for. This was still his Kelly.

"Mhm."

Kelly: Would Leslie be able to hear his frown? "What, you think this is funny? I should've left him outside to get pneumonia."

Rune: "That's not you. Wouldn't do that to me."

Kelly: "And you have the nerve to ask me what you did. This is your fault!"

Rune: "I didn't make you be nice!"

Kelly: "Yes you did! Your voice in my head told me to get him a towel and let him shower!"

Rune: "If you really thought he was dangerous you woulda covered my mouth!"

Kelly: "He was all pathetic and wet and you would've gotten him a goddamn towel! I wasn't thinking about danger, I thought he was just drunk."

Rune: "A drunk mage from the Umbra covered in gloop?"

Kelly: "He's not drunk, that was just the most plausible explanation at the time. Tell me how to get him out."

Rune: "How would you kick me out?"

Kelly: "He's not you, I wouldn't kick you out."

Rune: Leslie scratched vigorously at his chest and rubbed the back of his head, trying to think quickly. About to ask what had been said when the bathroom door creaked open. Brown eyes looking around and landing on the chair.

Kelly: Fuck, time was up.

"Gotta go, bye," he said in a hurried whisper, hanging up the phone. Now to switch back to text.

{Text} He finished showering

{Text} Tell me what to do

Rune: {Text} What has he said?

Rune had used most of his time washing his shoes and boxers. He would be damned walking around naked in a stranger's house. That's what this man still was. Names had to be exchanged at some point, but he didn't feel compelled to rush.

Shoes lined the edge of the tub. Boxers wrung and hung over the sink.

And an arm was reaching desperately for the clothes, fingers flailing before catching the sweatpants, slipping back between the gap.

Kelly: Now it was Kelly who felt something uncomfortable itch at his chest. In the moment he'd been able to dismiss what the stranger said because saving face was vital, but that didn't mean he didn't understand the implications of what he'd been told. He did.

And he hated that someone else did too.

{Text} He said he heard my scream in the Umbra

Rune: {Text} That's a whole thing I'm not familiar with. I just know the name.

Leslie bit his lip and leaned against his kitchen counter. Debated on telling Tristan, but his merman would have no answer, either.

{Text} Not in a menacing "I want more!" kinda way?

Kelly: {Text} It was the answer he gave when I asked him why he was in my yard

A far from satisfactory answer at that.

{Text} I don't know. But he's sure it was me and was curious enough about it to end up here

Rune: {Text} If he's telling the truth, it must mean something. I wouldn't kick someone out knowing something like that about me without knowing more. Aren't you curious?

This coming from the same witch that found a former angel vessel and invited him home for eggs and tea.

Kelly: Kelly sighed. It did mean something. It meant that no matter how much time had passed or what he did or where he went, god still fucking hated him and wouldn't ever stop reminding him.

{Text} I'm pissed is what I am

{Text} A stranger has no business knowing something about me that I wouldn't voluntarily choose to share

Rune: Ever the optimist, Leslie texted back with his own perspective.

{Text} Maybe he didn't want to know either and wants answers.

The bathroom door opened fully this time. Dark brown hair with black roots towel dried to chaos. Warm skin dry and bare from the waist up. A black and brown crucifix hung around his neck.

At least now he could walk out and grab the shirt. Had this been a friend's home he would have been just fine with his nudity, but not today.

Kelly: {Text} Well then he's gonna be disappointed because I have none to give

Kelly looked up and immediately looked back down at his phone, and there his eyes would remain until he was spoken to. Why the hell hadn't the man put on the shirt at the same time as the pants?

Rune: Since he wasn't looking at his guest, he wouldn't see him make himself at home on the couch. Knees brought to his chest with a tired sigh. Like a cat allowed in a stranger's home, one might think this was his domicile.

Kelly: He waited a moment longer to see if Leslie would reply. When he didn't, Kelly slipped his phone in his pocket and went to plant himself at the entrance to his living room, arms crossed.

What the hell should he do with this intruder?

"I let you shower and gave you something to wear. You indulged your curiosity. I think you know what comes next."

Rune: Let's subvert those expectations a bit and pat the other side of the couch.

"We... listen to the news and complain about how the world's gone to shit."

Kelly: Let's not and say we did.

"'We' don't do anything. I get back to my life and you go back to London or wherever it is you came from and we pretend none of this happened."

Rune: "I can't just pop back to London. That's not how it works."

Kelly: "We both know that's exactly how it works."

Kelly pulled out his phone again.

{Text} Les, can I have your porter's contact info?

Rune: "Captain Cane, I was sleepwalking. I'm tired. I'm fucking drained. You're the only thing that woke me up."

{Text} I can see if he's available but he doesn't like me giving him out like that.

He'd already gotten an earful when giving his information to Bo without his permission.

Kelly: "Not my problem. I didn't wake you up because I didn't scream. Feel free to go back to sleep anywhere that isn't here."

{Text} If he needs to be bribed I will pay him whatever he wants

Rune: {Text} Is he threatening you or something?

Rune just sighed. Planted his forehead on his knees. This man wasn't getting it. He really, really didn't want to talk about this. Understandable, but the last time he'd ignored an obvious sign, people had gotten hurt. He didn't know why he was here, and he didn't enjoy it either.

But he wasn't young and willfully blind.

He had an idea.

His head popped back up.

"Name's Rune, from Amsterdam. Yes, I am a mage." He tapped his good ear. "You get me out by talking to me. No, I don't bite. Not in the mood."

Kelly: Kelly took a deep breath and tried to summon some patience from somewhere. Anywhere.

"I have nothing to say to you, Rune from Amsterdam. I don't know you, I didn't tell you to come here, and I'm not playing this game. I have to go to work soon and if I have to call the cops to get you to leave, then that's what I'm gonna do."

Rune: "What are you afraid is gonna happen if we talk?" Too strong of a question out the gate, but it was his way. He held his hands out, arms resting in his knees, as though he could catch his question.

"Look, I'm... " he sighed, "I'm... an exorcist." He never liked the title, but it hadn't rubbed off in a century. "Just... tell me you're okay."

Kelly: It was the wrong think to ask. The wall that slammed between them at Rune's question was almost palpable.

A fucking exorcist? Was this guy serious or just grasping at straws to get him to talk?

"Then let me save you some time. I'm not possessed. I'm not yakking up pea soup and my head doesn't spin 360 degrees. I don't need an exorcism."

Rune: All this bait and no catch. He had better luck with Russian roulette than he had with this man. He tried not to make this a matter of pride, but it was tempting.

He had been awoken by fire. Could have been anything. A house fire. An explosion. He looked around the room while his host bricked his wall. A photograph. A plaque of honor. A uniform. Something.

The room was impeccably neat, but anything?

Kelly: There was nothing in the room save for the cleanliness of it that gave away anything about the man who owned it. There was a couch, a coffee table, a lamp, and a rather nice television, but no personal effects. No personality reflected anywhere that was currently visible to Rune.

There wasn’t even a plant.

In fact, the only indicators that his host had a personality were his carved cane and the small hoops in his ears.

Kelly sighed. This wasn’t working. “Look, if you don’t believe me you can press that cross you’re wearing to my forehead.”

Rune: Dark eyes returned to his host. Now that was an idea. Actually, what it was, was progress. He didn't have a framed photo to go by, but he did have that cane, and more confusion than he'd started with.

But he was intrigued.

Rune got to his feet and tugged at the crucifix buried deep in his shirt. Every stranger underestimated him. He didn't look at all as one would expect from an exorcist. Everyone wanted the stereotype.

But with a cross in his hand, it might as well have been a witch's wand. A gentle warmth would wash over Kelly's body as he neared. His movements slow, wanting to avoid having the cane broken over his spine.

His right hand laid flat over his host's heart. The cross to his forehead. Host might have expected nothing, but that warmth had become a comforting blanket over his being. Tension lessening in his muscles, as though experiencing the aftermath of a massage.

Kelly: Really? Kelly hadn’t been expecting him to actually do it but if that’s what it took to convince him and get him to leave then fine.

Kelly’s eyes flashed with warning when he was touched and if possible, he stood even straighter and stiffer than he had been already.

Rune was correct in thinking that his host hadn’t been expecting anything to happen, so when something did—benign though it was—it made him flinch. Not exactly what he wanted to have happen when he was trying to convince someone he wasn’t possessed but he couldn’t help it.

Shying away from comfort was second nature. It had taken years for him to be okay with it from Leslie and this man wasn’t Leslie.

Kelly leaned away.

“See? No sizzle, no burn mark. I’m not possessed. Satisfied?”

Rune: Heading towards 162 years of age, and the only benign creatures to ever flinch were those reliving trauma. He had tried to avoid touching his skin, but holding an object so close, it was bound to happen.

The cane had been an obvious sign but seemed a little on the nose. Now that he knew, he didn't know what to think. Standing there, watching dumbfounded as the wolf retreated.

He was healthy, and not healthy at all. Their connection hadn't been long enough to feel anything beyond the conspicuous, and it was fucking irritating.

The cross was squeezed in his fist. He didn't know how to approach this any other way than his own. He was a blunt object at best. This was a strike on his confidence, despite miniscule gains.

This discovery had awakened the insatiable. He needed some time to think.

"Okay."

Still holding his necklace, he turned his back on the Garou, retreating to the bathroom for his shoes, wallet, and underwear.

Kelly: Kelly was fully aware that in their world, a touch could betray just as much as a confession, if not more.

That wasn’t why he broke it. His knowledge of the Umbra had already given away that he wasn’t a mere mortal and Rune himself had confessed to being a mage. They were on a fairly even playing field.

What difference did it make if the man knew he was a wolf?

Kelly watched Rune with a frown. Okay? Had it worked? Had he actually managed to convince this man to leave him be?

It appeared that way but he wasn’t counting his chickens just yet.

Rune: Rune made his way into the kitchen, looking around for any sort of rag or towel to dry the inside of his shoes. A fruitless endeavor, seeing as he was about to walk back into the rain. What a shame this man was going to just allow that to happen. The world outside was howling, and as tempting as it was to play pitiful, he had said okay, and he was a man of his word.

Kelly: There was a dish towel hanging by the sink and a roll of paper towels on the counter, beside which sat Kelly’s forgotten water and a half-empty prescription bottle of Vicodin.

As for the man himself? Rather than follow his guest into the kitchen, he was rooting around in the coat closet for a stupid umbrella because he could still hear Leslie’s voice in his head.

Rune: Rune lowered to read the name. Considering the day he'd had, he could have this. Did he look like a Kelly? Maybe if he smiled.

His loafers were as dry as he could manage and still he winced from the cold.

Kelly: Kelly finally came into the kitchen, looking from Rune to the pill bottle without a single word.

He offered a clear umbrella handle first.

Rune: And Kelly was looked at with fresh eyes. Kelly Rose. And this Kelly didn't even have his full name.

He took the umbrella with a small bow of his head, and made an attempt at civility, just to see, offering his hand.

Kelly: It was safe to assume that the cat was already out of the bag. Rune probably knew what he was and now he also knew his name. There wasn’t much more that a handshake could give him that he didn’t already have.

Kelly took his hand and shook it.

Rune: The same handshake Leslie gave, pressing his index finger into his pulse. The mage shuddered, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from flinching.

Kelly: Kelly pulled his hand away as quickly as he could but it was too late. He noticed Rune’s shudder and it told him that, brief though the contact had been, it hadn’t been brief enough.

Something had been felt or seen that Kelly probably didn’t want to be felt or seen.

Rune: The same familiar gesture, but the old mage witnessed more than the young Verbena could. More than Rune had intended, and he had intended to pry. He needed something. Anything. Kelly had a stranger in his yard, but it was Rune who had traveled across an ocean, away from the comforting acrid haze of cigarettes and rotting wood, two-hundred-year-old playing cards and dirty carpets. Away from the sanctuary of a centuries-old hole in the wall, for this.

That scream began to replay. The sensation of torn muscles and charred skin.

This was why he drank. Was this why they both drank? Something to drown.

"Why are you afraid of being seen?"

Kelly: This man was determined to ask impossible questions, determined to open doors he had no right to open and that had been shut for a reason.

And for what? What exactly did he think he was going to change by doing it?

“Tell me where it’s written that I have to be,” he muttered, taking the pill bottle and tossing it back in its drawer. “I don’t owe anybody a damn thing.”

Rune: "You thought you did?" was all he could think to ask, taking a deep breath from his nostrils and out his mouth. Slow, so as not to draw attention. Probably didn't matter.

Kelly: “You asked a question and I answered it. There’s nothing that says I have to be ‘seen’ and I don’t owe anyone my indulgence while they try.”

Rune: "You don't have to do anything," he echoed. "It's so easy. You don't have to look in the mirror. You don't have to look back. You don't have to think about anything. It's so easy! You can just exist. Yeah... so easy," he said to himself, shuffling towards the door feeling more like Kelly than Rune.

Kelly: Sure, Kelly thought, shaking his head. Judge the cripple for trying to make it through the fuckin’ day.

“Facile, mon cul.” He snatched his water bottle from the counter and went into his bedroom to change for work. He trusted Rune could and would see himself out.

Rune: The hours rolled by, and the mage named Rune was nowhere to be found. Leslie text back well after his departure, explaining his porter's refusal to work with any changing breed. The paragraph of apology that followed was rushed and dripping with Leslie's tone.

Rune had walked and walked, managing a mile from Kelly's doorstep before squatting down to breathe. Feeling as though he'd been holding his breath with every step, lungs burning and skin hot.

The umbrella was planted against his back, forehead to knees as he collected himself. What a strange fucking afternoon. What a broken creature. What a waste of time.

The thoughts that had followed him out the door hadn't tapped his shoulder since his youth. A broken creature, but a powerful one. Power granted by torment was especially potent. Might as well have been a sorcerer.

Rune rose to his feet and continued. Not nearly strong enough to hunt for rifts or attempt one of his own. A hotel would have to suffice.

But he could only last so long, lying on the top covers, hands on his stomach, staring at a popcorn ceiling. At least he had somewhere to return. A pub would do just fine.

Kelly: Kelly couldn’t even find it in him to be annoyed at Leslie’s porter. Not now that there wasn’t a need for him anymore.

He reassured Leslie that everything was fine and that he didn’t have anything to apologize for. He told him that the stranger had left on his own but made sure to leave out what had transpired.

That was for Kelly to overthink as he donned his black button-down and dark jeans and made himself presentable.

Why are you afraid of being seen? Why the hell did it matter? And what did Rune from Amsterdam care anyway? It wasn’t like he could actually do anything. Talking about the past never changed or fixed anything, all it did was tear open wounds and let people indulge their curiosity about things that weren’t any of their business. He didn’t need some nosy pretty boy mage coming in and poking at him just because—

Kelly paused with one arm in his jacket. Pretty boy mage? Where the hell had that come from?

He shook his head and finished putting on his jacket. “Don’t go there, Rose,” he told himself, grabbing his keys.

Strictly speaking he still had some time before his shift, but he was hungry, and he remembered Bobby saying something about making clam chowder for the dinner special today.

He’d go in, have himself a good meal, and he wasn’t going to think about Rune or the look on his face when he’d pressed his cross to Kelly’s forehead one second fucking longer.

Rune: His name was becoming a mantra. Kelly Rose. Kelly Rose the werewolf. The werewolf with burns he could not heal. With a scream so sharp he was never the same.

He almost blasphemed, sighing through his nose as he entered Pete's Pub. Not at all like a dive in London, but it had its charms. Very... American. The music especially.

Still dressed in Calvin Klein loafers and Kelly's rags, his shoulders wide and confident, Rune took a seat at the bar.

If only he could have a cigarette. He'd sell a year of his life for a proper Elysium.

His new umbrella was hung from the bar, leaning forward on his elbows, only to plant his forehead on the cold wooden surface.

Pete: This time of year and this time of day, Pete’s pub was filled with mostly locals having dinner and a post-work drink. With the storm still raging outside, the fire roaring in the hearth, and the mix of blues-rock and conversation, the atmosphere was positively cozy.

And with Kelly Rose the werewolf tucked away in the pub’s kitchen having his dinner and talking to Bobby, it was Pete who approached this new forlorn-looking patron.

“You all right there?” he asked.

Rune: "Jet lag," sighed his customer.

Shit, how much money did he have left? He sat up and smiled, reaching carefully between his legs, opening his wallet and losing his hand beneath a portal the exact width of the leather. Blindly he felt around his dresser in Willemstad. He needed to remedy this before having to resort to gold coins.

The texture felt right. He pulled from the dresser, through the portal and - fuck. Why did he still have yen?!

A slew of Dutch curses left his lips as he lined his money on the table. Yen, euros, pesos - why pesos? When was he in Mexico? - zloty - thank you, Lord! Thank you for one last Benjamin Franklin.

"What'll this get me?"

Pete: Pete looked on in amusement as currency after currency appeared on the bar, much to his customer’s apparent dismay. He couldn’t place the language he was speaking but the sound of swearing was universal.

“You weren’t kidding about that jet lag,” he chuckled. “Looks like you’ve done a full lap around the planet.”

He smiled at the hundred-dollar bill. “In here? Just about everything. Pick your poison. If you’re hungry, I’ve got a menu you can look at. Special today is homemade clam chowder.”

Rune: The bartender's amusement was contagious, and for a moment he felt just a margin improved. Money was stacked alphabetically and stuffed back in his wallet - the actual wallet this time.

"Don't think my stomach can handle milk."

Rune perked. "You have genever?"

Pete: At least he looks a little less depressed, Pete thought. It was the gift of the small town bartender to put people at ease and he was very good at it.

“You’re in luck.” He turned to the shelves of bottles behind him and took the one he needed after a quick scan.

“Want it straight or you in the mood for a cocktail?”

Rune: "Just nectar in a glass. Stop me when we've reached Benjamin."

He was hungry, but right now he was also poor, and this wasn't the kind of pub with gambling, from the looks of it.

"Where can someone play poker around here?"

Pete: “You got it,” said Pete, pouring a healthy measure into a glass and placing it in front of his customer.

He gave him a curious look at that question. Not something he got asked every day.

“For pleasure or profit? If it’s the former, I can point you in the right direction. If it’s the latter, you’ll have better luck with pool.”

Rune: Rune stared for a moment, taking a little longer than usual to translate back to Dutch before raising his chin in understanding.

"Not snooker?"

Pete: “Not here, but there’s a place the next town over if pool’s not your thing. But…” Pete thought for a moment. “My bartender can probably give you better answers than I can.”

Rune: Next town over without a car. So pool it would be.

"Okay," he said into his glass.

Kelly/Pete: Pete looked toward the door that led to the back and smiled. “There he is. Hey, Kell, any places in town to play snooker?”

Kelly shook his head as he made his way over, distracted by the apron he was in the process of tying. “Nope, just pool and just at the Brig right now. Charlie’s table is still being re-felted and it’ll be another…few…weeks…”

As he finally looked up and saw who was sitting across from his boss, he could swear he heard god laughing at him.

“You cannot be fuckin’ serious…”

Rune: Rune was staring as well, lips still on his glass and unsure whether or not to be confused or pleased. What was it? Former or latter? Was this destiny his captain loved to go on about, or was this luck?

He would just ignore that last comment, looking at what he assumed was the owner, given his comment.

"Where's - you have a brig?"

Pete: “Uh…” Pete looked between the two of them, more than a little surprised at Kelly’s reaction to who Pete thought was some random tourist.

“No, um, The Brig is another bar here in Edenton. They have pool tables. Do ya’ll know each other?”

Rune: Well, Kelly's reaction had let it slip, might as well have fun before he finished his drink.

"One wild summer. Married in Vegas. Divorced the next day." He leaned his head toward Kelly, eyes playful. "He's a wild one."

But his smile was quick to fade. The Benjamin was placed on the table and slid across.

"Where's this Brig?" he said to just one, not even casting a glance.

Kelly/Pete: “Is that right,” Pete chuckled. Something weird was going on here. He couldn’t remember seeing Kelly like this with anyone in all the years he’d known him.

The wolf didn’t look hostile or anything, but he had the face of a man begging for the earth to swallow him whole.

“I’ll let Kelly tell you where it is while I get your change.” He took the money and disappeared over to the register before his bartender could protest. A perfectly reasonable thing to do but just for a second there he’d felt a June-like urge to meddle.

Telling himself to be professional, Kelly took a deep breath.

“Gimme your phone.”

Rune: "You've seen me half-naked," he said into his drink. "I don't have it." He could reach through his wallet or create a spontaneous portal, but the truth of the matter was he'd be feeling around blindly and with the potential of his London host finding a floating arm in the middle of the day. That wasn't going to happen.

Kelly: As if mocking him, a flash of that very image came unbidden into his mind before it was viciously chased away.

“Right.”

Kelly reached into his apron pocket for a pen and his notepad and began drawing Rune a map. He told himself it was just to get him out of here faster, but he was also going to the trouble of adding some landmarks and other useful places in town just in case.

In case of what? He refused to think about it.

“You’ll hear it before you see it,” said Kelly, ripping the page off the pad and offering it. Because the sleeves of his button-up were rolled up, more of the scarring on his hand and arm were visible, no longer hidden beneath the T-shirt he’d worn earlier.

At his chest, the couple of buttons he’d left undone revealed more of the same.

Rune: He must have been comfortable at this job, Rune thought, having finally looked up from his empty glass. It wasn't like him to avoid a glance, or even sound the retreat, but he knew staring would only summon his curiosity. He wanted to touch those scars. Abstract art they were.

And he wasn't ashamed of that thought.

"Lot of gambling?" he asked, taking the map between his index and middle finger, keeping his touch strictly to paper.

Kelly/Pete: “It’s very present, let’s just say that.” Most people went for the dancing but there were a good few who lived at the pool tables. “Just don’t piss off the bouncers and you’ll be fine. And if you know what’s good for you stay away from the preppy asshole and his friends, you’ll spot them right away.”

“They have a second home in one of the holding cells in the sheriff’s station,” Pete said as he returned, handing Rune his change. “They play dirty and when it doesn’t work they like to wait for people outside to gang up on them.”

Rune: "Preppy people? Sweaters over shoulders preppy?"

And why was Kelly telling him any of this? Made more sense coming from the other man. Seemed well-intentioned enough.

And looking at the map, he had quite a bit more walking to do. And once more curious why the extra details.

"How many miles?"

Kelly/Pete: “Couple miles.” Hell if Kelly knew why he was bothering to tell Rune all this. Wasn’t like a mage couldn’t take care of themselves. Maybe he was feeling a little guilty.

Or maybe he was just getting soft.

Pete nodded. “Yep. Polos, sweaters, boat shoes. The type that look like their life is just one long brunch.”

Rune: "That's half the men in Amsterdam," he smirked.

It was something to do. He was ready to turn what he had left into profit. It would suffice until he had the strength to riffle through all of his caches.

"Thanks for the drink. Time to walk."

Pete: “Walk?” Pete repeated, turning to look out the windows. The storm that had begun earlier that afternoon showed no signs of letting up. “In this? You don’t have a car?”

Rune: "I just dropped out of the sky." He shrugged. "Seen worse."

Kelly/Pete: Kelly threw Rune a pointed look as he pulled a beer for a customer who’d just approached the bar, as if telling him to mind his comments.

They were in public, after all.

“You’ll get sick if you go walking in this mess. I can give you a ride. It’ll be a lot quicker.”

Rune: Rune just tilted his head in return. The wilder the story the less he was taken seriously. Fine in most aspects of his life. Saved him a lot of trouble.

Unless a certain wolf gave him away with that grave look, he was in the clear.

What did he care, anyway? The question was becoming as much of a mantra as his name.

"You're a prince if you do."

Kelly/Pete: Pete shook his head. “Hardly. Just don’t want you to have to deal with a cold on top of the jet lag. Hold the fort for me?” he added to Kelly as he took off his apron.

“You got it.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring my car around. Gimme two shakes.” And with that, their buffer disappeared through the door behind the bar.

Rune: Rune was willing to let the silence stretch. Fingers traveled up his shirt - Kelly's shirt - feeling for his necklace, his crucifix just below his chest.

He didn't have to look directly at him to watch from his peripheral.

Kelly: In watching Kelly—and the people he interacted with by extension—it would become obvious very quickly which patrons were locals and which were tourists. The locals called Kelly by his name, asked for their regular orders knowing they were remembered, but otherwise didn’t really treat the bartender any particularly noteworthy way.

The tourists stared. They looked at Kelly’s facial scar instead of his eyes when they spoke to him and when they weren’t speaking to him, they stared at the scars on his arm, neck, and chest. It wasn’t uncommon for him to have to repeat things because they simply weren’t listening.

It got old real fast but fortunately for him, there weren’t too many tourists tonight. Some good came from the rain after all, even if it had also dumped a mage in his yard that he could feel looking at him.

Rune: One of the men staring Kelly down was being watched in return. Two fingers tapped at his cross as his lips thinned tight.

He could say something. Do something. He wanted to, and it hadn't crossed his mind to question reason.

He could stare. All he pleased. He wasn't staring in horror. He was admiring. It was his right.

A corner of Kelly's map was torn. His pen swiftly borrowed to sketch a little symbol.

Rune made his way over to the stranger, leaning over, he made a show of bowing.

"Sorry. Sorry. You look familiar. Do you know Marco?" Putting on his best Japanese accent, he played the role of confused tourist, and slipped the piece of paper into the stranger's pocket. The accent, the question, the bowing, all distractions, and no one, save Kelly, the wiser.

"So sorry, so sorry." Dumbass.

Kelly/Pete: Kelly’s brow furrowed ever so slightly as Rune put on his little song and dance with the tourist and slipped him something. Where had that accent come from? And why?

He watched from the corner of his eye just like Rune had done with him as the guy confusedly brushed the mage off and said he didn’t know any Marco, then moved away from the bar entirely in favor of a table.

Kelly was almost smiling to himself when Pete came through the front door and waved Rune over.

Rune: No more avoiding his gaze. Kelly was looked in the eyes, given a wink. "Good luck."

His map was gently folded. It was useless now but pocketed regardless. Just like admiring Kelly's scars, it was his, and his right.

And back into the rain, leaving his umbrella behind.

Peter's ride was given a whistle of approval before slipping in.

Kelly/Pete: The wink only made Kelly more curious about what Rune has done. So much so that for a second he even forgot to look annoyed at him.

But then Rune was going out the door and Kelly was distracted by a patron and the moment was gone.

“You like?” Pete said, beaming with pride as he gripped the steering wheel of his car. “It’s my pride and joy.”

Rune: "It's really nice!" His smile lingered, awkward, and then, "What is it?"

He hadn't bothered with a seat belt, but knew better than to raise his knee and rest his foot on the seat.

Pete: “Cadillac,” Pete chuckled as they got on their way, immediately glad he’d offered this man a ride. Rain was really coming down.

“So how long you been in town? Enjoying your stay so far?”

Rune: "Cadillac." The word just didn't fit his accent. Sat heavy on the base of his tongue.

Rune fought a smile. "Just a day. Had my clothes stolen."

Pete: "Stolen? Damn." Pete was silent for a moment, head tilting curiously after a beat or two. "That why you're wearing Kelly's clothes?"

Rune: "Hmm." He held the shirt again, to what was hidden underneath.

Kelly was about to have some entertainment. Not seven years of bad luck, but one horrific evening was going to unfold before him.

"You memorized his wardrobe?"

Pete: "You smell like him." Which, when he'd initially noticed, Pete had taken to mean that the two of them knew each other on a very personal level. He'd never seen Kelly with anyone but that didn't mean the man was a monk.

Rune: "I pity your nose."

Might as well see. He offered his hand, eyes on the road.

"Rune."

Pete: He laughed and reached over to shake Rune's hand. "Pete. That's just what happens when you spend a long time in proximity to someone."

Rune: Rune hummed again. Like with Kelly, his finger pressed into the driver's pulse. Natural age. Healthy. Not... Garou. A bear! That was a first.

He shouldn't say anything. Self-preservation demanded silence, but he wasn't concerned.

"A bear and a wolf walk into a bar..." he shook his head. "Are there no vampires in this place?"

Pete: If Rune had picked literally any other two animals, Pete would've thought nothing of it. He would've laughed it off and chalked it up to small talk. But it was just too specific a comment, especially once the vampires were brought into the fold.

Still, his smile remained easy and casual. He trusted that if this man was close to Kelly Rose--close enough to let him borrow his clothes--and meant any harm, then Kelly never would've let Pete give him a ride, much less be alone with him.

"Oh, Edenton's practically a storybook," he chuckled. "Everyone lives in harmony."

Rune: "Storybooks I read usually end with hunters." Some people just loved to tack that title to his collar, but it just wouldn't stick. He didn't care what Kelly was, or Pete, or the vampire down the street. He had only one rule: don't be an unhinged psychopath.

"You don't want to purge them?"

Pete: He shook his head. "Nothing like that, no. Everyone who lives here understands that it's best not to cause any trouble and keep to themselves. Edenton and its surroundings are an Elysium, you might say." For everyone and everything that lived within its borders.

Rune: Ah. He knew that word very well.

"Everything but the humans," he said, leaning against the car door and his forehead to the chilly window.

"No judgment," he sighed, suddenly feeling tired.

Pete: "It extends to them, too," Pete said thoughtfully, thinking of his youth and how very normal and safe he had felt growing up here. He knew now that back then there had already been vampires in his hometown but he'd been an adult before he realized it. Maybe it was inexperience or naivete, but he thought that was a sign that the Elysium was functioning as it should.

"Granted, people are gonna be people. Take the wannabe Heathers at the Brig for instance."

Rune: "You know this?" It was curious for a changing breed to know as much as this one. To sit cozy with a vampire and not feel compelled to rip the body in two.

"Heathers?"

Pete: Pete nodded. "I do."

Even though they were speaking relatively openly, just coming out and saying 'oh, I thought I was human for most of my life and a vampire and a Druid taught me the ways of the supernatural world' was a bit much to be sharing with someone he didn't know.

"The movie. Ever seen it?"

Rune: Rune had his doubts, but only because in all his years, it was difficult to fathom every recipient of a vampire's bite to be consenting. Then again he had no room to judge, given his proclivity for gambling. There were mortals walking around with shaved years because of him, and he felt no shred of remorse.

"I don't watch TV. Not interesting after Technicolor."

Pete: Technicolor? Just how old was the man sitting next to him?

“There’s a lot of great stuff that’s come out since then. Might be worth giving it a shot one day if you’re bored.”

Rune: He placed his hand on his chest. "Not to sound like an old man, but there are better things to do. Games, music, books, fucking."

Pete: Pete laughed. “You don’t sound like an old man. There’s no single thing that’s gonna be for everyone. As long as you’re enjoying yourself, who cares.”

Rune: "You're a hippie, aren't you?"

Pete: He laughed again and shook his head. “Not really, I just calmed down like we all do as we go through life.”

Rune: "Says the bear."

Rune bit his lip and sat up. There was a question on his tongue, but it could make or break his plans.

He decided to make a play with casual.

"How long's Kelly been here?"

Pete: “Hey, being a bear is a very peaceful existence.” At least it had been for him, minus the first couple months.

“Uh…around about three years now, I think. Give or take six months. Why do you ask?”

Rune: Just a noncommittal sound and a shrug. Better to stay vague in this instance. His chin in hand, he looked back out the window again.

"Are you taking the scenic route?" This ride felt so long. He'd blame the rain, or maybe this Pete was up to something.

Pete: “This whole town is one big scenic route.”

There was no stalling or anything underhanded afoot. Pete’s speed was in deference to the rain but even so, it was only another moment or two before the bass pumping out of the Brig would start to be felt and the building came into view.

“We’re here. This is The Brig.”

Rune: The map was referred to, making a mental note of where Kelly's house was and the distance to Wayside Inn. He could make a night of this place and ignore the rain, if he was determined.

"I owe you, Pete," he smiled, getting out of the car before he could refuse.

Pete: “Don’t worry about it,” Pete called after him. “Just watch out for the Heathers!”

The rain might have been slowing things down over at Pete’s pub, but it was the opposite at The Brig. The bar was as packed as usual with locals and tourists alike, drinking and dancing and shooting pool under the watchful eye of the bouncers.

Rune/Q: This wasn't the worst fashion Rune had ever endured, but he certainly missed his comfortable suit when he walked through the door. A few lingering faces were expected. This was a small town and his face was nothing familiar. The hair, the shoes, the sweats, he looked nothing short of homeless.

He hardly noticed the curly-haired bartender staring him down, looking at the bouncer behind him with a raised eager brow.

"He's pretty," Q mouthed, smiling across the room at his best friend.

Tane: The town may have been small and Rune's outfit may have been unusual, but this was an environment accustomed to the unusual and whatever attention he garnered would soon shift in favor of something else. No one ever looked twice at a place like The Brig.

At least, not the patrons. The employees were a different story.

Tane smiled back at Q and followed the newcomer with his gaze, giving his bartender a nod of agreement. He was pretty. Tane just hoped he wouldn't be one of the ones to cause trouble tonight.

The group at the pool tables was already forcing him away from Q and the bar just so he could keep an eye on them.

Rune/Q: Q flipped a bottle of vodka and set about making a dirty martini for a local. He could and would stare as he pleased, but only after orders. The job came first.

Rune argued with wants vs needs, standing at the end of the bar, watching a game of pool happening between a biker and what looked like a living breathing fisherman stereotype. He couldn't come off too eager, begging for a waged match.

So he forced himself to sit at the bar, counting what was left of his money. He needed a drink in his hand, at the very least.

Kelly/Tane: Tane didn't like the look of that biker one bit but so far all there had been nothing that required interference. Trouble was more likely to come from the Abercrombie crew at the next table if they kept knocking drinks back at the same pace they had been for the past half hour.

Wouldn't be the first time, Tane thought to himself, recalling the last time he'd had to haul them out. They hadn't gone quietly then and they wouldn't now, he was sure of it.

Those same boys were on Kelly's mind as he stared at the umbrella that had been hanging on the bar, though it wasn't them so much as someone who was now in proximity to them.

All that bellyaching about not wanting to freeze to death and the damn mage had forgotten the umbrella. If he got pneumonia he'd have no one to blame but himself.

So why the hell did Kelly keep thinking about taking it to him?

Rune: He was shit out of luck for a glass of Holland's best. The cheapest strongest drink would have to do. Smelled like rubbing alcohol and didn't taste much better, but it was something to have on hand as he approached the tall round table between the two groups. One of the Heathers, as they were not-so-affectionately called, seemed to have taken notice of his clash of fashion.

For now he would watch, sizing up east and west for the most favorable option. Eventually holding out fifty dollars, taunting who was ready to lose their money and their jacket to a tourist.

Kelly/Tane: Well, well, well. It looked like their pretty newcomer was going to join the crowd at the pool tables, which meant that Tane got to have a nice long look at him. It made a good consolation prize since he couldn’t be within flirting range of Q.

Whether there was going to be trouble was yet to be been, but the second money started being waved around, the potential for it went way up. Those Abercrombie boys were never ones to back down from a challenge and it was clear even at this distance that they’d already written off the pretty boy as an easy mark.

Moving it out of sight hadn’t helped.

Even though he couldn’t see it anymore, Kelly was still thinking about the stupid umbrella and about whether or not he should do anything with the stupid umbrella and about that damn mage by extension and it was all starting to annoy the daylights out of him.

When the annoyance reached a fever pitch, he pulled out his phone and sent a message to his dealer asking him to meet. He needed a top up.

Rune/Q: Q couldn't help but look. It was his way, his drive, and he enjoyed watching Tane work up his appetite. Their understanding of each other had spanned years. No conversation needed to be had; no hint of jealousy.

Nothing but luck. Rune agreed to a game with the Heathers, checking the table for roll-off before a lag shot against his opponent.

Card games were more his speed, but the Noble Game of Billiards had been a part of his life since childhood. Underneath a table was where he would often find his father after days of neglect.

Pocketing half the balls on his first break might have silenced the Heathers, but disallowing his opponent even one turn at a stripe was perhaps a bit too petty. He had been warned, and taking his money, thought it best to turn his attention to the laughing biker and his fisherman friend.

Kelly/Pete/Tane: Tane exhaled a laugh and shook his head, silently glad for the pretty boy. Although if looks could kill, those Abercrombie boys would be nailing his ass to the wall.

The biker and his buddy would probably be better sports and maybe more enjoyable company, but Tane doubted the others were going to take their defeat and walk away.

Oh well. That’s what he was for. He’d keep his eye on them and hope for the best.

It was half an hour before Tony got back to Kelly and it would be another hour on top of that before he’d be able to meet him.

And that was assuming Tony wasn’t late which he always fucking was. At least this time Kelly wasn’t desperate.

Near the appointed hour, Kelly took off his apron. “Got an errand to run. Shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

Pete nodded and gave him the go ahead. “Drive safe, it’s still pouring.”

“Yep.”

Kelly grabbed his jacket and the umbrella and headed out the back.

Rune: The Heathers had been about pocketing their money. The biker and fisherman were going to be much more enjoyable company, given their good-natured humor. Rather than fifty, Rune slammed down a quarter and earned another laugh.

Of course, he wouldn't call himself an exorcist. As far as anyone here was concerned, he was a professional gambler. The biker, Eagle, and his best friend Jerry didn't give two shits, and their conversation was much more stimulating.

Didn't stop the hard looks from the next table over, but it wasn't their money anymore, now was it?

Kelly: He was just going to meet his dealer. No other reason, no ulterior motive. He was halfway through his Vicodin and needed a refill, that was all.

That was what Kelly told himself the whole drive to the Brig. He was running an errand, not rushing off to give some mage he didn’t even know an umbrella, because that would be an insane thing to do and he was not an insane person. He was just being practical.

And a champion of denial like him could tell himself he believed that and almost manage to do it.

He didn’t look for Rune as he entered the Brig, instead making a beeline for the quietest side of the bar and immediately flagging down Q.

“Club soda when you get the chance.”

Rune/Q: Rune had every intention of allowing himself to lose a game or two. Though he hadn't walked in with a cue in hand, he doubted an Elysium as Peter had described harbored no other mage. There were some things you just didn't do around other mages. Gambling was one of them.

So far, he hadn't found an opening. Skill was to blame. Eight-ball was just a little too easy once the law of reflection was understood.

That was, until Rune heard a familiar voice, looking up as he took his shot, not even bothering to call out the pocket. Eagle threw his head back and cackled as the cue ball fell into a corner pocket.

"'Bout goddamn time!"

"Don't blaspheme," Rune sighed.

Q slid Kelly his drink. On the rocks without even asking. There was another interesting specimen. Reminded him of Tane. Apparently, he smiled to himself, he had a type.

"Thought you were at work tonight," Q greeted, looking back over at the opposite pool table.

Kelly: No one could appreciate a small town bartender like another small town bartender. There was a strange comfort in having someone just know what you wanted without having to ask.

Kelly gave Q a grateful nod and took a sip. “I am. That’s why I’m not ordering bourbon. Just came in to catch up with our mutual friend.” Who, as expected, was late.

There were too many competing scents in here to be able to distinguish any single one, so he’d have to rely on casual scans of the crowd unless he got lucky and was able to pick out a voice above the music.

Not that he wanted to, of course.

Rune/Q: At least... he thought he had heard - the man was working. Two miles away or whatever at some other pub. Between the crowd back and forth from the dance floor and the patrons sitting at the bar... must have been his bum ear playing tricks on him.

Q leaned forward on his forearms. He knew exactly how much time he had for a quick little chat.

"Thought you just got some." But his smile was devilish. "Want some pain relief, can give you that in the bathroom. Have you all better in five minutes."

Kelly: Q’s smile was met with a gently amused look. The suggestion wasn’t entirely unappealing.

“Unless a quickie in the bathroom is gonna stop the rain, I still need that refill. The cold doesn’t like me.” And it was only going to get worse as the autumn wore on and turned into winter.

Had he left? Where the hell—there. At the pool tables.

Kelly sighed into his glass.

Rune/Q: "Babe, you need, like, Utah or Arizona or some shit." He gave a quick pat to his cheek and turned back to clean a few glasses.

Skin-to-skin touch affected more than one this evening. That simple touch was enough to warm Q's skin, causing a sigh of his own. The look he gave Tane was one he had received before. Many times. His bartender was aching for stimulation.

Rune hadn't taken notice of the fact that he was being watched. Not only by Kelly, but the blond behind the trio. Jerry had, sitting at the table with his beer, waiting patiently for his turn against whomever won.

"What chu want, son?"

Rune looked up at Jerry and behind at - he didn't catch his name.

"You. Let's go again."

Rune looked around the bar, assessing the square footage before sighing. A lot of that going around tonight.

"With my arm behind my back? Let you go first? What about with my eyes closed?"

Kelly/Tane: In this whole town there were only a few people Kelly was okay being touched by, and Q was one of them.

“Mormons and the desert are depressing as fuck. I’d rather be in pain and perpetually waiting for Tony to learn how to read a clock.”

Tane had only looked away from the pool tables for a second to wink at Q and somehow in that split second, trouble had managed to brew from at least one party.

“Don’t take the bait,” he said under his breath as, unnoticed by him, Kelly Rose’s attention zeroed in on the same scene.

Rune: Rune wouldn't say he was at the end of his patience, but when his thoughts began to filter in his father's language, he knew he was reaching his limit. He reached for his drink on Jerry's table, only to be stopped by a pool cue. The sharp thwack cause several to jump.

"I want my money back. Let's go, goddammit."

What was it with Americans and this word?

"Don't fucking blaspheme."

Just two fingers, a quick, harsh flick to the tourist's scalp.

"Do somethin'."

Kelly/Tane: Oh hell.

Before Kelly could debate with himself about interfering, Tane was already doing it. The man could cross distances and cut through crowds with remarkable speed, especially when he was prepared.

And, since Kelly had seen him watching the tables, he knew he had been.

Tane grabbed the blond kid’s arm and shook his head. He was bigger and stronger and one flick was all the kid was going to be able to do.

“What did I tell you the last time about fucking around and finding out?” He pulled the kid away from the pretty boy. “You gonna cool it or you gonna get the hell out of my bar?”

Rune: "Don't fuckin' touch me!" Phones were coming out, as expected, and Rune put another foot of distance between himself and the ordeal.

"He's cool, man," said the only Heather without his phone at the ready.

"Hey, he can't touch me!"

Tane: “Get your pal under control or I’m tossing him out,” he said to the calmer of the Abercrombie boys, releasing the kid for now. Glenn had long ago given him permission to ban troublemakers at his own discretion and tonight could very well be the night to break that particular camel’s back.

But whether it was or not, he wasn’t going far. Maybe the silent threat of his presence would be enough deterrent.

Rune: Of course he wanted to stay. He had a bone to pick with the skinny Asian prick. He faked a toothy grin and threw a peace sign at his target. The last man to be given a peace sign, it didn't end well.

"Still want my money."

"Oh, shut up, kid," Eagle frowned.

Kelly/Tane: Tane didn’t like that taunting bullshit one bit but unless the kid tried to pull something else, there was nothing he could do. His hands were tied.

The singular silver lining was that the pretty boy knew how to show some restraint.

Kelly felt every bit as annoyed as Tane as he watched things settle at the pool tables. Hadn’t he told that damn mage not to go near the Heathers? Hell had he been thinking?

Before his mood really got a chance to simmer, Tony finally showed up.

“Do I need to buy you a watch?” Kelly muttered, shaking his head. “I told you I was working, I need to go back soon.”

“Stop riding my dick, I’m here aren’t I?”

And thus began the usual song and dance. They’d play their part, just two friends catching up over a drink while under the table, their exchange was made. There’d be no negotiating from Kelly over the amount he was given this time since this was really just an excuse, which Tony was grateful for.

Kelly was barely listening to his hushed lecture about having to be cautious. Most of his attention was at the pool tables. That preppy bastard was cooking something up, no doubt about it.

Rune: There was a part of Rune that wished the voice he had heard was real. But then again, he wondered why, and why he had followed that voice through the Umbra to begin with. First come first serve was usually the policy, but why? One incident some hundred years ago he could barely remember. Traditions made from nothing more than a single unique experience.

Rune looked at the money he had earned. He wanted to call this a night, but he wasn't yet finished. The stupid American succeeded in sucking the energy out of his eyes.

Rune turned back to the Heathers. What was one more game?

The only one with sense stepped forward, tried to smile.

"Look, man, he didn't mean nothin' by it."

Rune placed a quarter on their table. Another quarter, and another. Then every dollar in his possession.

"Match it. Let's go."

Kelly/Tane: “Goddammit,” Kelly hissed under his breath as Rune placed his money on the table. Hadn’t he told him to steer clear? Why hadn’t he fucking listened?

“What’s that?”

He turned back to Tony and shook his head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it. We square?”

The dealer nodded. “Yep. Pleasure doing business.”

“Great, thanks. Quin.” Kelly flagged Q down again and paid for his drink before he made his way closer to the pool tables, keeping a low profile.

Tane didn’t notice Kelly’s approach. He had the sheriff’s station’s number pulled up on his phone, finger on the metaphorical trigger in case this pool game ended the way he feared it would.

Rune/Q: Q didn't think he'd ever be accustomed to hearing that name. Back home he was Quintin. With his brother and the rest of the world, he was Q. That hybrid in-between had turned his legs to jelly the first time Kelly had ever said it. A warm feeling lingered in the pit of his stomach with its utterance ever since.

One of those clients he would miss when no longer required.

Rune pointed to the rack. By now he was bitter, petty, and tired. He would have the insufferable jackass choose his cue for him. Of course, the blond would choose the lightest stick. Out of his own spite, he insisted Rune break again, believing wholeheartedly lightning couldn't strike the same place twice.

Rune rubbed one of his many rings. A gold ring with an onyx center as he stared a hole into the green felt.

The mage chalked the tip of his cue, lowered, and lined his shot. The sharp snap of cue stick to cue ball succeeded by the pocket of every last stipe and solid. The cue ball slowly rolled back to position, and there Rune stood, staring the blond down as he leaned against the table.

"Your turn?"

Q kept busy, wiping down the length of the counter and watching for Tane's reaction, scoffing.

"Guy's about to get his ass whooped."

Kelly/Tane: Knowing something was caused by magic didn’t take away any of the wonder of seeing it, but Kelly couldn’t even feel it over the profound sense of foreboding.

If Rune knew what was good for him, he’d grab that money fast and get out. The lead Heather wasn’t going to take another humiliation well but he wasn’t going to get the chance to do more than yell if Kelly had anything to say about it.

He could do a lot more damage with his cane than some preppy blowhard could do with a pool cue.

Tane was in a similar boat as Kelly, looking absolutely floored as he pressed the call button on his phone and looked from the pretty boy to Q with an incredulous shake of his head.

Who the hell was this guy?

Rune: The look on everyone's faces was quite similar. Shock, confused, impressed, and furious. All save the blond. His cue stick was placed on the table. Hands up. He just laughed. Everyone was waiting for something and he knew they were. He was seeing red, but managed to fathom a plan in his drunk haze. There was no way this smuggle little asshole had taken his money twice.

"Kay." He finished his drink, raised his hands again, and headed for the door.

Rune remained perfectly still as he watched and waited. That wasn't the outcome he'd expected, and he hated being wrong.

His money was gathered and stuffed in his oversized sweats. At least now he could afford some decent clothes. Maybe a meal. His arms were feeling rather weak.

"Eagle, Jerry, been a pleasure."

Rune turned towards the door and stopped in his tracks.

Oh.

Kelly/Tane: No way that little punk had miraculously found some common sense and was actually walking away. Tane didn’t believe it for one fucking second.

He followed him to the door at a distance, ignoring the looks from the crowd as he spoke to the sheriff. It was better to be safe than sorry, especially when dealing with people that didn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.

Yeah. Oh.

Kelly didn’t pause. He simply kept walking toward Rune and as soon as he reached him, he would place his hand on Rune’s shoulder with surprising gentleness with the intent to lead the mage toward the door.

Rune: Had it been Kelly's voice all along, or a vague whisper between minds? He stood there, staring, until finally moved by that massive scarred paw.

One question at a time.

"What are you doing here?"

Kelly: Good. Rune wasn’t resisting Kelly’s efforts to get them both out of the bar. That made things a lot easier.

People were quickly losing interest now the show was over, but a few curious souls still threw some looks their way as they made their exit. Like Tane, Kelly ignored them.

“Running an errand.” He nudged the door open with his shoulder and made for his truck.

Rune/Q: Q was certainly watching. The last he had expected was for Kelly to know some random foreign tourist. Evident in the look given to Tane. They could be confused together. He certainly was.

A figure stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall of The Brig with a cigarette between his lips. Of course the blond hadn't left, but he'd expected to catch this man alone. At the very least with one of those fat old fucks.

He knew Kelly Rose. He had enough sense to know he'd be fingered for his retaliation.

The broken-off tree branch he'd been holding was dropped.

Rune was oblivious to the sound, but something had dawned on him in almost the same instant.

"Where the fuck are we going?"

Kelly/Tane: Tane shrugged and shook his head. ‘What the fuck?’ he mouthed.

Kelly wasn’t.

Despite the rain, he managed to catch the soft thud of the branch hitting the ground and turned toward it, immediately spotting the human shape in the darkness.

The blond Heather was well-hidden from most, but not from Kelly. He pinned him there with a look of warning, eyes seeming to glint in the low light for just a moment before he turned away to unlock his truck.

He ignored Rune’s question until they were both inside the truck and the engine was rumbling to life.

“One thing,” he muttered. “I asked you to do one thing and you just couldn’t help it.”

Rune: The figure froze against the wall, pressing his back against the brick as his mind tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. Delirium came into play long enough for Kelly to throw his truck into drive and put their backs to the bar.

So long as Rune remained in Edenton, this wasn't over. But it was over tonight.

"Tell me where it's written that I have to obey." Knees were brought to chest. "You have nothing to say to me, remember?"

Over a day of fasting, only alcohol in his system was taking its toll. His head lulled back against the seat, refusing to look in Kelly's direction.

"Got my money. Geld maakt mij gelukkig," he snorted.

Kelly: Kelly’s jaw twitched as Rune threw his words back in his face. He knew this had been a mistake. He should’ve ignored the stupid umbrella and left well enough alone. If the damn mage had forgotten it and got sick as a result, that was his problem. He was an adult.

Why the hell did Kelly even care?

“Where are you staying?” He would drive Rune there and wash his hands of this situation once and for all.

Rune: His eyes were closed. He tried to keep his hands at his knees, but they were simply too weak. Seeing Kelly this soon hadn't been his plan. There was no plan. He didn't know what he would have done differently. Might have made an effort to eat. Prevent this pathetic trembling.

"Water," he said, managing to maintain his smile.

"I was fine."

Kelly: That gave him zero helpful information. They were in a goddamn fishing village; everything was near the water.

But rather than play twenty questions, Kelly was just going to take them back to Pete’s. He needed to get back to work anyway.

“Fine, my ass. Your blood sugar’s in hell.”

Rune: "More genever helps." He motioned to the world outside of the truck, but forgot what he was going to say. Something about a wayside. Kelly was a nice distraction.

"My what?"

Kelly: “Your blood sugar. You’re shaking.” Bobby could make him something for dinner if he didn’t want clam chowder. Bobby was good like that.

Rune: "Don't let it go to your head." Another snort. His smile was quick to fade, staring out the window again.

"Wayside," he sighed.

Kelly: Ah, an actual answer. Well, it was too late. Kelly wasn’t turning around so Rune would just have to deal. Eating at Pete’s was cheaper anyway.

“Why would I do that? You’re the one who didn’t eat until your body started to complain.”

Rune: "I had no fucking money, Kelly."

Kelly: “Bullshit. Managed to pay for two drinks just fine.”

Rune: "Had a reason to drink."

Kelly: With no room to comment on that, Kelly chose to keep his mouth shut. It was for the best. Absolutely nothing he was saying was making any damn sense to him and he was starting to get sick of himself because of it.

The rest of the drive back to the pub would be made in silence. If Rune wanted to fuck off once they got there, Kelly wouldn’t stop him. If Rune chose to follow him inside, Kelly would lead him in through the back and to the kitchen.

Rune: The silence was uncomfortable. Downright unbearable and he couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say that wouldn't be met with another denial, another flinch. The same flinch that hadn't left his thoughts since leaving Kelly's house.

The mage sighed, felt for his wallet and sighed again. He should eat. He was here... for some reason. Why didn't Kelly take him to the inn? Why had he taken him at all, and why had he just complied without complaint?

Questions left at the door as he followed quietly into the kitchen.

Kelly/Bobby: “Oh hey,” Bobby greeted as Kelly stepped into the kitchen. He was at the counter putting potatoes through his fry cutter. “Where’d you go?”

“Errand,” said Kelly, gesturing behind him. “This is Rune.”

“Oh!” Bobby’s brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before giving Rune a smile and a nod. “Good to meet you, man.”

“He hasn’t eaten. Mind if he eats in here with you?”

The cook shook his head. “It’s cool. What’ll you have, Rune?”

Kelly excused himself.

Rune: Rune managed a smile, and as with Kelly and Peter, offered his hand to figure out what exactly he was talking to.

Sometimes he wished he hadn't memorized this rote.

"I'm a stray off the streets." In this case, the truth was adjacent. A glance was given to the wolf before dropping his gaze entirely.

"Potato sounds good."

Bobby: Unlike with Kelly and Pete, Rune would find nothing out of the ordinary. Bobby was an ordinary human, in both good health and good spirits.

“Well then you’re in luck! About to fry these up. What you want with them? Got some fish I can fry up for you, got clam chowder, got some leftover clams I can make into a po boy. What are you craving?”

Rune: Rune could have hugged the man had he been more familiar. Nothing against Kelly, but against him completely. A sweet oblivious human was rare in his circles, and to be treasured. Perhaps he was in the wrong for his manner of thinking; little different from a human petting an adorable animal in a pet store.

He wiped at his mouth at the mention of milk. God, please no.

"Salt, pepper, vinegar. How much?"

Bobby: “Ah, worry about that later. Just the fries though, you sure?” Bobby asked as he walked over to the sink and gave his hands a quick wash.

“Not to brag or anything but my po boy making talents are coveted by more than one in this town. Got people trying to steal me away from this place every day.” He nodded toward one of the stools at the counter. “Take a load off.”

Rune: "I'm," he scoffed, shook his head, "so hungry I'm not hungry." That had to make sense to someone who wasn't tortured for the knowledge, surely.

Kelly was right. He needed to eat. Had he gone back to the inn, he would have raided the mini fridge and passed out on the edge of the bed. This was arguably better. Arguably.

Bobby: Bobby nodded sagely. “Dude, I’ve been there. Feels like your stomach is digesting itself. Sucks. But I tell you what. I’m gonna make you these fries and start prep on this sandwich. Guarantee it’ll sound more appealing once your system gets going.”

Rune: "I can take it with me." If he remembered. That is, if he didn't sleepwalk away from his leftovers. Fuck... that might very well be the case.

Rune leaned against the counter, looking around the room as though his solution was somewhere in here. A sigh.

A sense of dread washed over him. Stomach and throat tight and hot. That wasn't the alcohol. An attempt was made to clear his throat.

"Talk to me." Shit. "Um... about this town. Where am I?" he tried to laugh the question off.

Bobby: “Perfect.” He dropped the potatoes in the fryer for their first round, chuckling at Rune’s question.

It wasn’t his first time hearing it by a long shot. Hell, he’d asked it himself more than once.

“You are in Edenton, North Carolina, my friend. It’s not much, just a fishing town, but we’ve got good food and nice beaches.”

Rune: "I saw some... Wayside." Seemed the prettiest place in town, but he was biased for anything nautical-themed.

He looked up, watching the door where Kelly had disappeared. Wondered if he could hear them.

"How long has he been here?"

Kelly/Bobby: “Oh, you staying at the Wayside? Good choice. It’s a real nice place, restaurant’s good too.”

Bobby looked up from the fryer. “Hm? Who?”

Pete’s wasn’t as packed as the Brig, but it was busy enough to keep Kelly occupied and as was his custom, he tuned out everything but the patrons in front of him.

Rune: He had that going for him and had no idea.

"The," knappe mannen beest, "big... fellow. Kelly."

Rune stared at the many bits of linen and paper in his wallet, pulling out the newest crisp twenty, looking to Bobby for confirmation.

Bobby: “Oh, gotcha. Kelly’s been working here about…three years-ish? Somewhere around there.”

Bobby shook his head at the money. “That’s way too much. Wait.” He gave Rune a curious look. “I thought you knew Kelly.”

Rune: So, Peter and Bobby had a consistent timeline. Helped hearing from more than one. Asking the same question again only served as an opening to ask something else.

"Word gets around fast," he scoffed.

Bobby: He shook his head. “It does in a town this size but that’s not why I mention it. Kelly isn’t really what you’d call the social type. He doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

Rune: "That answers if he's always this cheerful."

Rune stared off into space for a moment. The twenty was placed on the counter despite Bobby's protest. He was paying for information. Cheaply.

"Goes hand-in-hand."

Bobby: Bobby chuckled. Rune hadn’t really answered his question but it was fair to assume there was some connection between him and Kelly. Otherwise Kelly wouldn’t have brought him here.

“Pretty much, yeah. He’s prickly but don’t let that fool you. He’s a good guy.”

Rune: He had him hose down in the rain. Brought him into his house. Took care of his clothes. Allowed him a shower. Indulged his persistence. Followed him from one bar to another just to bring him back.

Saying it like that, saying it all together, he was... nice.

Still a prick.

He was staring off into space again.

"Tin man has a heart. Just needs some oil."

But to change the subject, "Smells good."

Bobby: “Believe it or not, what you’re seeing is the Tin Man already oiled. He used to be even pricklier. Downright surly even.”

Bobby beamed with pride as he seasoned the fries and poured them into a basket for Rune. “Damn right it does. Best in town. Eat up.”

Rune: English wasn't his first language. Not even his third, but a few seconds of buffering and Rune smiled, nodding his gratitude for something to eat. The fries could have been absolute trash and he would have moaned.

But what luck, they were perfect.

"What fixed the Tin Man?"

Bobby: “Same thing that fixes everything. Time.” With fries done, Bobby started preparing the clams for Rune’s sandwich.

“Wouldn’t really say he’s fixed though. People aren’t leaky pipes, no one ever gets fixed. He’s just less prickly and speaks in complete sentences now.”

Rune: "I thought therapy and sex fixed everything."

This man, this mortal, he was special, wasn't he? He was... wholesome. Must be the small town mentality.

"Mm."

Bobby: Bobby snorted. “Yeah, those help, too. Doubt someone like Kelly would ever go to therapy though. Doesn’t seem like his thing.”

Rune: "Someone with the same experiences will always be better." But that was just his opinion.

Bobby: “Probably true for a lot of people.” But Kelly? Who could tell, honestly. Man was an enigma and about as forthcoming as a clam.

“Anything you don’t like on your sandwich?”

Rune: "Milk," he snorted. Another glance at the door. This was probably a lost cause. He should head back to the inn and fall asleep with his head over the tub. Maybe a bottle of something strong. He'd certainly earned it.

Bobby: “No milk, copy that,” Bobby chuckled. “I won’t put milk on this. How you feel about mayo and mustard?”

He gave Rune a curious look. Why’d he keep looking at the door? Was he waiting for Kelly to come back?

“Missing someone?”

Rune: "Hmm?" Annoyingly perceptive. Wait, no. He was just thinking. He wasn't missing anything. Or anyone.

"Just mayo." He pointed to a nearby lemon. "And that. You don't have Joppiesaus?"

Bobby: “Dude, I gotta be real, I have no idea what that is.”

But mayo? That he could work with, as well as some lemon juice on the clams as soon as he got them out of the fryer and started to put the sandwich together.

Rune: Bobby was just given an exasperated sigh. Not his fault, but didn't make the cultural differences any less frustrating when it hadn't been his idea.

"Thanks."

Rune crossed the room to the back door to assess the rain.

Kelly/Bobby: The rain had yet to let up, just as Kelly had feared. Calling Tony had been an excuse but he was starting to feel very glad he had as the painkillers he’d taken earlier began wearing off.

When he went to go grab a couple more, he noticed the umbrella still with the rest of his things and realized he hadn’t given it back to Rune like he’d intended. Was the mage even still here? Had to be. No way Bobby was letting him leave without a meal.

Sighing, Kelly entered the kitchen just as the cook was wrapping a sandwich.

“Oh hey,” Bobby greeted.

Rune: Sonofabitch, why had he left the umbrella? Because he thought the rain wouldn't last this long. Just... that. It wasn't his. Maybe hoping Kelly would do exactly what he did.

That was saying too much. That was thinking too much.

But why, of all of the voices in the Wasteland, had he first heard the sound of someone still alive.

Rune was off in his own little world, staring out the door when Kelly returned.

Kelly/Bobby: “Hey,” said Kelly, watching Rune’s back for a moment before crossing to the counter and placing the umbrella on one of the stools without a word.

“There any Gatorade in the fridge?”

Bobby nodded. “Yep and to answer your next question, I did get blue ones. Want a sandwich?”

“Maybe on my break.”

Rune: It was the sound of the umbrella that stole Rune's attention, standing straighter with a soft flinch, looking from the umbrella to its owner.

"What's blue supposed to taste like?"

Kelly/Bobby: Bobby just smiled and shook his head. “They didn’t even bother coming up with a flavor to put on the label. It’s just called ‘cool blue’.”

Whatever it was, it appealed to Kelly. He grabbed a couple of pills from his pocket and downed them.

Rune: "This is where I insert an "Oh, America" joke."

Bobby: “And you’d be right,” Bobby laughed. “We love our artificially colored and flavored beverages. They hit the spot.”

Rune: Rune was staring at Kelly, at where he'd placed his pills, and back to the rain.

"Thanks for the sandwich."

Kelly/Bobby: Kelly, meanwhile, was focusing very intently on the drink in his hand. He didn’t want to catch Rune’s eye lest either he or the umbrella be questioned.

And although the pills had come from Kelly’s pocket, neither he nor Bobby seemed to think very much of it. Casually taking pills in the kitchen seemed rather a common occurrence.

Bobby nodded. “You’re welcome, man. Guarantee you’ll be back for more after trying it.”

Rune: "We'll see."

He looked at the umbrella and back to its owner. Took his wrapped sandwich and tucked under his arm.

The umbrella was taken with some reluctance, unwilling to open indoors. For the last time, he looked at Kelly, wanted to say something... but couldn't imagine anything profound with an audience.

"Goodnight."

Kelly: Only when Rune made to leave did Kelly finally look at him again. The lack of privacy prevented them from speaking openly but would they even if they could?

He didn’t know what to say or if he should say anything at all. A part of him almost resented thinking about that to begin with. He’d done enough, hadn’t he? Rune wasn’t being tossed out with nothing and besides, he could take care of himself.

So why did Kelly feel oddly responsible for him? Just because Rune happened to appear in his yard? That didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t, Kelly repeated in his head as he nodded.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly.

[thehangeddemon]

Personality of Grapes || Xavier & Q || January, 2010

Xavier: Xavier swirled the contents of his glass. “Wine is like people. The vine takes all the influences in life all around it, it absorbs them, and it gets its personality.”

Q: Q watched the contents of the glass gently slosh about. He curled his legs between their chests, content in Xavier's lap.

"What personality is this one?"

Xavier: "Hmm." He took a sip, considered, offered one to Q. "Unspeakably arrogant but with just cause. No surprise there, this wine is French."

Q: "So long as it's just," Q smiled. "Can't have runaway hubris." He would taste for himself, and offered no opinion other than, "Maybe a little unjust."

Xavier: Xavier chuckled. "Definitely French. So what do you think, my dear. Did I pay too much for this bottle?"

Q: "Think you should know something, baby. Ready? Je suis en fait Française. Juste un peu. Ma mère est Française du Canada et Irlandaise."

Xavier: Well color him impressed! “Are you indeed? Your French is excellent. Have you spent much time in either place?”

Q: "Spent one Christmas in Montreal. Never been to France. What you hear I taught myself."

Xavier: “You did an excellent job.” He smiled. “Would you like to go to France?”

Q: "One day. I'll see everywhere one day, just you wait." Q smiled. "Tell me more about arrogant French wine."

Xavier: “One day could come sooner than you think, you know. I could charter a jet and have us in Paris tomorrow if you say the word.”

He leaned back and brought W with him. “Naturally they think their wine is superior, as does every other country that makes wine. And they’re not wrong, but they’re also not completely correct. French wine isn’t only about the wine itself.”

Q: "Had assumed - dunno why - that Italian is superior." He watched Xavier a moment, sipped at the wine enough to stain his lips. Intentional, of course.

"Trying to impress me, X?"

Xavier: “You aren’t wrong. But you see, by and large, Italian wine is about the wine. About la dolce vita. Enjoying the moment, savoring everything.”

He grinned and stared unabashedly at Q’s lips. “Perhaps I would be, if I believed that was the sort of thing that impressed you.”

Q: "I don't mean to break illusions so soon, but making it rain and showing off the rims on your SUV don't impress me much. You'd be right."

Xavier: “Perish the thought,” he said, making a face at the notion. “Style and flash over substance is most definitely not my style. I prefer to savor as the Italians do.”

Q: "You make it rain your own way."

Xavier: “You think so?”

Q: "Are you being coy?"

Xavier: He shook his head and smiled. “Simply curious how I’m perceived.”

12:10 AM] Q: "A suave Englishman that takes what he wants, with strong opinions of his neighbors. And excellent taste in men."

Xavier: “Can’t argue with that,” he chuckled, setting the wine aside in favor of indulging himself with kisses to Q’s neck and shoulder.

“Although I’d venture to say I have exquisite taste.”

Q: "Mm." This client in particular was exceptionally warm. Made him sleepy.

"I don't think we can call anything from Chicago exquisite."

Xavier: “We can from where I’m sitting,” he murmured, working his way up to Q’s jaw.

Q: "Mm. Keep tellin' me how exquisite I am. I'll let it go to my head tonight."

Xavier: “It should. As you said, I have excellent taste in men.”

From Q’s jaw there was only one place to go; those lips were taken and thoroughly, lazily kissed until both their heads were swimming from more than the wine.

Q: Q wriggled slowly in Xavier's lap until properly straddling. Arms wound around his neck and came to rest on his shoulders. His head would indeed swim, but he was fueled by that kiss. Body warming to such feverish nearness. He smiled into their kiss and leaned away, offering a sip from his glass.

Xavier: Unabashedly responsive, Xavier thought to himself. Beautifully so.

He let his hands rest at Q’s hips for only a moment before he slipped them inside Q’s shirt and rubbed up and down the length of his back. His companion could lean away but only a little. Only enough.

Xavier grinned and accepted the sip, letting it rest on his tongue as he pulled Q into another kiss.

“You never answered my question.”

Q: What a delicious tasting kiss. He offered his tongue for comparison and grinned.

"You want to take me to France?" Just to confirm, to test that look in Xavier's eyes.

Xavier: "Mmm, hold that thought." He needed to get a proper taste before he could answer that question. Perhaps two. And a proper feel as well. Were those curls as soft as they looked? He needed to check.

Q: Even softer. Cared for with more love than received just a few years prior. He bit playfully at his client's chin and sighed. Leaned his head back into those hands, intentionally exposing his throat and accentuating his collarbone.

Xavier: Xavier hummed in satisfaction, grinning to himself. Q knew exactly what he was doing. Knew just how impossible he was to resist and exactly how to use it.

“Delectable,” he murmured, lavishing all that soft skin with kisses and barely-there nibbles.

He wanted more of it. That shirt, lovely as it looked on his companion, would be removed and tossed to parts unknown.

Q: It was a nice button down, but it was better left on the floor and forgotten. He would not ask about France again. It was far-fetched sweet nothings, and not his first time hearing such from a client. He learned forward for Xavier's lips, blindly reached for Xavier's tie.

Xavier: France was temporarily shifted to the back burner, but Xavier had every intention of returning to the topic. He never put forth an idea he didn’t fully intend to follow through on, as Q would soon learn.

But first, those lips and that chest and those shoulders needed his undivided attention. Q always looked so warm to the touch. That’s what had first drawn Xavier’s attention. He’d been dying to know if he was as warm as he looked and lo and behold, he was. Warm and soft and impossible not to touch.

Q: Xavier's hair was not at all like his own. Not even as his used to be. The only word to describe was silk. Addictive to run his fingers through.

He leaned in and inhaled. Expensive cologne, of course, but something else. Was it masking body odor? Something meaty. Not quite. Something worse. He didn't know why he nuzzled in; just something to do, maybe, but it had grasped his attention to the point of having to pull away. He nibbled and sucked along earlobe and neck to distract.

Xavier: If Xavier had his way, Q would never know that the hint of something he carefully hid with cologne and magic was sulfur. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been to Hell in decades, he was a demon; that scent would forever cling to him.

And Q would never, ever know.

Xavier hummed softly and only mildly in protest at losing those lips. This was a good consolation prize.

“Where did you go, dearest?”

Q: "Hmm?" Q leaned back, arms fastened to the back of Xavier's neck. He wanted to look him in the eyes, now. Observe what that tone of voice was about.

Xavier: His tone of voice matched the look in his eyes; affectionate and gently curious.

“Weary of my kisses already?”

Q: "Just want the rest of you," he smiled. "You want my tongue?"

Xavier: “And that’s just for starters, my dear.” He peppered open-mouthed kisses on Q’s neck. “We need a change in venue.”

Q: "Haven't you figured out by now - I'll have you anywhere, X."

Xavier: Xavier gave Q a bright, lecherous grin. "You're a delicacy meant to be served on a silver platter, my dear." Or a king-sized bed, as the case may be.

"Hang on to me." He secured his hold on Q and got to his feet to carry him to the bedroom.

Q: Q did as he was told, but in his fashion, wrapping legs and arms and nibbling Xavier's ear as he was carried about. Taking his sweet time migrating from earlobe to throat. Not minding one bit in getting in the way of his field of vision.

Xavier: Xavier purred low in his throat. Who needed vision really? As long as he had one arm free, he could get them to the bed by feel alone.

The suite was large, but hardly a palace.

Delicately, deliberately, Q was placed on the bed and admired. He was sheer perfection, all warm skin and curls against champagne linen. It reminded him of something that had him smiling and leaning down to kiss the life out of Q.

Q: Q was hardly willing to let go, attempting to tangle fingers in perfectly straight hair to no avail. Not at all the texture of his own. Not anymore. Only recently allowing his hair to be natural. A change his current client had witnessed firsthand.

HIs smile faded in offering his tongue, legs still firm around Xavier's hips, refusing to detach from his warmth and friction.

Xavier: A deep, affectionate laugh rumbled in Xavier’s chest. His feast for the eyes seemed reluctant to let him go but he didn’t mind all that much for now. He was in an indulgent mood.

Without breaking their kiss, Xavier finished what Q had started and loosened his tie the rest of the way, tossing it aside. His shirt buttons were more of a faff but he got them undone as well, and that was as much as he had the presence of mind to do.

His entire consciousness, his entire being, was flooded with the man in his arms. With his scent, with the taste of him.

Xavier’s hands began to wander and explore and tease. He wanted more. Pulling away, he began kissing down Q’s throat and across his chest.

Q: The man had talents large and small. Financial intelligence, charm, wit, and dexterity. What more could he ask for from a client?

Once more reminded Xavier was, in fact, his client. Some nights the lines blurred, and he found himself fishing for his wallet - near misses of embarrassing slip ups. He was no amateur, by any means, but sometimes... sometimes.

Sometimes he caught that scent, and in again he went for those lips, tipping his weight back just enough to pull Xavier down onto the oversized bed.

[beyondedenton]

Lunch Date (cont.) || Lawrina + Charles + Q || February, 2021

Lawrence: Lawrence placed his cheek on the steering wheel, watched Charles sleep, waiting for the tingle to fade from his arms. Drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling permitted with Charles’ slumber to rest himself. But it was not Lawrence behind the wheel. Q Traxler fated himself late for his shift, climbing aboard and shooing the driver beside his friend. Thick curls mostly rescued by a windbraker, bangs tightly wound clung to his forehead. He wanted to shake like a dog, but oh well.

"Gina'll wanna drive you back," Lawrence whispered. The double garage door was closed as he had left it, not surprised to see his wife's SUV in its usual place as the heavy door lifted.

Gina: Gina looked up from Ariel's crib as she heard the garage door open, smiling to herself. Lawrence was home.

She looked back to make sure the sound hadn't stirred Ariel from her post-lunch nap even though she knew there was little chance of it. A morning of errand running followed by lunch with Laura and Logan had fully tuckered out her baby girl. There'd be no stirring for at least a couple hours.

Even so, Gina tip-toed out of the nursery, shutting the door behind her before heading downstairs to meet her husband.

Lawrence: Lawrence and Q argued a moment over which set of arms would be carrying the professor. Times like this Q appreciated the silence sign language (sometimes) offered, but those hands were useless in all but pointing Lawrence to the house.

"Lemme play Prince Charming. He's cute."

"He's very married."

"Whoops," a glance at Sleeping Beauty, "but I'm not drunk." So, for today, Q won the right to shimmy the sleeper into his arms.

Gina was given a preemptive apologetic kiss. "Long story, baby, but, less than ten shots, more than... five?"

"Hey, GG!" Q whispered with a grin, arms quite full.

Gina: A very confused Gina met Lawrence and Q and a sleeping man she didn't recognize at the door that led from the garage into the house.

She chuckled silently into the kiss. "Sounds like someone had a good lunch," she whispered, turning to smile at Q. "Hey yourself. You can put him down in the guest room if you can manage the stairs quietly. Baby's asleep." Because of course this man was going to be made comfortable. Asleep or not, he was a guest.

Q: The man weighed less than Tane Lukela, so of course Q could carry him just fine.

"Gina, Charles, Charles, Gina." Lawrence's forehead came to rest against her temple. "Sorry to ask, could you drive Q back to The Brig? I'll make it up to you."

Gina: "Yeah, of course." She turned to take her husband's face in her hands and kissed him again. "You don't have to make anything up to me. Go lay down, I'll take care of Q."

But first, Q would be shown where the guest room was so he could set Charles down. "It's nice to meet you," Gina whispered to the sleeping Charles as she covered him with a blanket. "I'll bring you some aspirin and water later. Come on, Q. Let's get you back to work. Want a cookie?"

Q: Q debated on that sweater, but figured Gina would be the one to deal with his ruined clothes at some point. He smiled to her, and once out of the room, said, "I get cookies? I'm a true hero."

Lawrence had taken to the couch, shed shoes, socks, jacket, and polo for the warmth of his favorite throw blanket.

Gina: "You absolutely do. I got sent home with a bunch of samples for this corporate brunch thing we're hosting at the inn." She closed the door and led him back downstairs, returning to normal speaking volume. "I've got almond shortbread with chocolate drizzle and espresso cinnamon swirl. What's your fancy?"

Q: A quick thought of a certain someone. "Lemme have some of that cinnamon." He'd never been in this house before, and in waiting for Gina, did a 360 of the living room. Felt more Floridian than he expected from the owner of Wayside. Just missing some wicker.

"Ready?"

Gina: "You got it." Gina got a tupperware container from a cabinet and loaded it up. Logan had given her a ton, so this worked out great.

"Yep, let's go." She handed him his cookies and grabbed her jacket and purse from the counter, where they'd been tossed when she'd arrived home. "Be back in a bit, sweets," she said to Lawrence, ducking into the living room to kiss his head.

Lawrence: Lawrence could only rest for so long. His mind couldn't still as easily as his body. He would rest his eyes for the duration of Gina's trip, forcing himself into a sitting position as he heard and felt the garage door. Right, to-go boxes in the truck. First, to wash his face. Brush the alcohol from his tongue.

Gina: Gina would walk in a few moments after the garage door closed, shedding her jacket on the way to the living room. "I'm back," she called softly. "Man, it's a mess out there. Rain picked back up and brought some wind with it."

Lawrence: "Means Air won't be waking up. How was Laura?"

Gina: "She was good! Told me to tell you hi, fussed over our girl. She's excited to cater the brunch with Logan Riley. Brought you a vanilla bean scone."

Lawrence: "Thanks, baby. Sorry about all this. Q wouldn't take no for an answer." He got to his feet. "Gonna get something out of the truck." And afterwards, find something constructive to do to stay awake. Ariel's sleep schedule did not give two shits about his drinking.

Charles: Charles reached out blindly the moment his mind began to stir to consciousness, seeking an impossibly warm body that he would not find. On instinct, he unfurled his telepathy, reaching out for a familiar cadence. What he brushed against instead had his power snapping back like an elastic, making his already pounding head give a particularly nasty throb. Damn it all.

It took several painful seconds for him to deduce what had happened and where he must be. The only-distantly-familiar surroundings suggested his memories of this place were not his own. Well, there was nothing to it. With a groan, he forced himself off of the mattress, righting himself and the bed to the best of his ability. With the blanket folded, and his hair as smooth as he could manage, he peeked out of the bedroom door. "Lawrence?" he called, cautiously, not wanting to disturb whoever might be home. With a little luck, he could slip out with what remained of his tattered dignity and request and Uber.

Gina: "Well, I'm glad he wouldn't. Less than ten shots and more than five means no driving." She kissed his cheek. "And don't be sorry, you haven't done anything to be sorry for. I'm going to take some aspirin and water up for Charles for when he wakes up."

Which was apparently going to be sooner than expected. The door of the guest room was fully visible from the stairs, which meant their guest was as well. Gina spotted him when she was halfway up, offering him a smile.

"Nope. But I do come bearing gifts." She climbed the rest of the stairs and held out a bottle of water and two aspirin wrapped in a napkin. "Nice to meet you again."

Charles: Oh! An angel he was both grateful and mortified to meet. He took the water and medicine with a distinctly embarrassed smile.

"Thank you very much. Lovely to meet you as well, though I wish it was under more appropriate circumstances." He twisted open the bottle and swallowed the pills neatly, before registering precisely what she'd said. "Again?"

Gina: "You were asleep the first time," she said with a grin that reached all the way to her eyes, crinkling them at the corners. "I'm Gina, Lawrence's wife. Pleasure to meet you, Charles. Would you like some tea or coffee to warm you up?"

Charles: "Ah." Humiliating. He offered the woman an apologetic smile. He hesitated for a beat, torn between the desire to make a hasty retreat, and distaste at the idea of being rude to a lady he was already imposing upon. He settled on polite, nodding. "Tea would be lovely, thank you."

Gina: Gina just smiled and gave Charles a look that said 'we've all been there'. Better to wake up a friend's house than an alley somewhere.

"You got it. Follow me." She led him down to the kitchen and waved him into a seat at the kitchen table while she filled the kettle. "Lawrence, you want some tea?" she called toward wherever her husband might be. "Or coffee?"

Lawrence: Lawrence's spine straightened at his name. He turned looking for his shirt to wrestle into before heading back inside. The storm had lessened to a quiet mist. Calm enough for repotting neglected plants. His projects, unlike the flourishing flowers and herbs Gina lovingly tended. Gloves removed in the doorway and tossed onto the porch.

"Coffee," he said. "That caramel thing you did before." Not normally a sweet tooth, but it felt appropriate today.

Charles: Charles shot Lawrence a loaded glance, at his arrival. They would have very mortified words, soon. For now, he'd follow his lovely host into the kitchen. "Can I help with anything?"

Gina: "Oooh, that sounds good actually." She was going to make one for herself as well. The weather called for good coffee and good company.

"It's no trouble at all. You sit, I'll handle the drinks. Would you like something to go with your tea? I've got cookies, really good bread for toast, muffins?"

Lawrence: He was just going to ignore that look, for now.

"Gina made the bread." Whenever he had a chance to say so, he did. He took a seat at the kitchen counter.

"I recommend the honey butter."

Charles: Charles dipped his head, claiming a seat as requested. "Toast with honey butter it is, then. Thank you."

Gina: Gina smiled as she grabbed plates and mugs. “Lawrence likes to brag about my bread. It won’t win any awards but it does make really good toast.”

Lawrence: "Award winning enough." Charles was watched for a moment, before staring out the window.

Charles: "I'm sure it's wonderful. Can't go wrong with a good bit of toast." Well, Charles could, but that was no one's business.

Gina: “Do you do any baking, Charles? Bread, cookies?”

Lawrence: These were pleasantries. So natural from his wife, but Lawrence was tense regardless. He would just keep quiet and wait for the tension to leave his shoulders.

Charles: Charles laughed softly. Gina couldn't know the absurdity of that question. "I do not, no. But I love enjoying other people's baked goods."

Gina: "You should stop by the bakery in town sometime. You can smell it from half a block away, impossible to resist. A friend of mine and her mother own it. Templeton's."

Lawrence: "She reminds me of someone, Laura." A thought which made him want to I scoff. A memory given by someone else, maybe? And which would he blame, a djinn or a demon?

He continued to stare out the window, expression neutral. "Cameron desperately needs more shops, and sassy bakers."

Charles: "Perhaps I will. Never could resist pastry." Charles snorted softly, watching freckled hands. "I suppose. I think the people there like the quiet remoteness."

Gina: "The sassiness corresponds to how late in the day people come in wanting donuts," she chuckled, grabbing some plates. "Does Cameron have a big tourist season? Lawrence told me they've got a lot of antique shops."

Charles: "Not really. It's very quiet. Then again, I don't really go antiquing. I may miss the bustle."

Gina: "I've been meaning to go antiquing for a while. Thinking about renovating this old building on the property my inn is on and turning it into a private bungalow."

Lawrence: "I would argue for a gift shop, but bungalow is... romantic."

Charles: "Indeed. If you're interested, I've been sitting on a mess of antiques for the better part of a decade. Some of my parents' old furniture and whatnot that we didn't have any use for, in the school. You're welcome to whatever you like. I've been meaning to have the attic cleaned out and converted, anyway."

Gina: "Romantic is what I was thinking. I could turn it into a honeymoon suite or a wedding suite for when we have events."

Gina's face lit at Charles' offer. "Really? Oh that's so nice of you! But please don't feel obligated, I wouldn't want to take something of sentimental value."

Charles: "Trust me, nothing up there holds any sentiment for me. Whatever you don't take will only be sold or dumped. You'd honestly be doing me a favour."

Gina: "Okay, but if there's anything you'd rather I not take or something rare and precious you could make some money on, let me know."

Lawrence: "That's very generous, Charles. Thank you," Lawrence managed with a small albeit genuine smile.

Charles: He waved a hand at both of them. "It's nothing at all. And I certainly won't miss anything. Just name a time, darling."

Gina: “Seeing as it’s your attic that’s being rifled through by me and possibly by Ariel, I think it’s only right that you set the date.”

Lawrence: "That'll be well worth the drive with a U-Haul."

Charles: "Well, I'm nearly always at the school, but I don't know how busy you are. Sometime next week? Next month? I'm honestly flexible."

Gina: Gina thought for a moment. It was going to take time to drive up and drive back and a trip like that would need planning. “How about I take a look at my calendar and get back to you? I need to check to see if there are any events coming up soon.”

Lawrence: "You two are overdue for a number exchange." One he'd been holding off for some time, but the two of them seemed to be hitting it off well.

Charles: "Perfect," he nodded, mentally rearranging hypothetical schedules. "Oh. Yes, of course." He fished his mobile out of his pocket and offered it.

Gina: "We are!" Gina took the phone and programmed her number into it before giving herself a call so he would have his. She'd already been excited about the possibly honeymoon suite but now it felt a little more real, a little more like a space that really existed and needed decorating. First thing tomorrow she was going to call the contractor.

She finished preparing the tea, fancy coffees, and toast and laid out their spread on the table. Ariel would be napping for another two hours at the very least, which gave her plenty of time to get to know Charles better and spend some quality time with her Lawrence.

Lawrence: Lawrence quietly assumed the role of polite spectator. In Gina's presence, subjects touched upon with Charles would be left outside of the house. She was far from ignorant, but that particular storm was pending. For now, a few cordial smiles here and there, unimposing responses, Lawrence excused himself from the table to wash the dishes.

Charles: For his part, Charles was happy to lay the earlier conversation to rest, entirely. Gina was pleasant company, and discussions of children and renovations would always be more welcome than emotional battering. Drunken coma aside, he'd make himself a model guest, until enough time had passed for him to excuse himself graciously. Not a bad end to the day, all said.

[wildroseofarran]

From the Wastes Into the Rain, Part II || Kelly, Rune, Pete, & Quintane || November, 2023

Rune: Rune couldn't feel eyes over his skin, but leaving felt wrong just the same. Like leaving a mission. Sleepwalking came with a purpose. Usually. Sometimes he couldn't find that purpose, and it haunted him. Just as he knew this would. He could stay. Make a habit of The Brig and make a new safehouse here in this little fishing town, but that was worth a debate after some six hours of sleep. Stinging eyes told him he had to pack it in, no matter his excuse.

Rune washed his mouth in the bathroom sink, tossed his sandwich in the mini fridge and flattened prone on the corner of the bed. Too many thoughts. Too many desires.

He didn't want to leave, just as he hadn't wanted to leave the pub.

He wanted one of Kelly's pills, just to feel something different. A mouth on his cock. A joint between his fingers.

Thoughts which quickly faded as he drifted to sleep. He would later wonder if his last thought of Kelly influenced the strange events to follow.

Last time sleepwalking, he had found a child in the Penumbra. Where most mortals, most children lost their way. Finding her family was relatively easy, but this was no lost child. Just... screams.

Screams he heard in his dreams. That same long path of broken cobblestone in that sepia world, raining down like spilled buckets of diluted mud. Why here again?

He felt himself walking backwards from that obsidian wall with its rift scar. Retreating towards the footless man and the begging woman. These were just dead memories. He couldn't help these people. The one he wanted was forward. Just... walk forward. Why couldn't he stop his body?

"Kelly!" He called into the darkness.

"Kelly," was just a whisper in reality. Three in the morning, and the real world still rained, and ignored the shuffling, shivering, sleepwalking mage.

Kelly/Bobby: By this point Bobby had known Kelly long enough to know that no amount of prying would get Kelly to open up about what he was thinking, but that didn’t stop the cook from squinting at him meaningfully as Rune walked out into the rainy night.

Kelly just downed more Gatorade and frowned. “Shut up, Bobby,” he grumbled as he went back into the pub.

The rest of his shift passed without incident. Last call was earlier than usual because of the rain and the thin crowd and once everything was clean and locked up, Kelly ended up coming home a little over an hour ahead of schedule.

Something his aching body was especially grateful for since the damn rain just would not let up.

Unfortunately, thinking about the rain inevitably made him think of Rune, and that inevitably threw him right back into the loop of guilt and annoyance he’d been battling the entire goddamn evening.

Regardless of what he told himself or how often, he just hadn’t been able to break out of it. Not even his exhaustion could fully shut it down, making him fall into an uneasy, fitful sleep that barely even counted as sleep since he kept waking up.

After the fourth useless attempt, he sat up in bed and sighed. So much for his unexpected early night.

He shifted the blinds, fully intending to cuss out the rain, only to see Rune back in his yard.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, throwing off the covers.

He put on his shoes and found an umbrella and stepped out onto his porch.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he called to the mage.

Rune: The Euthanatos didn't seem to be paying any attention. Shoulders down, soaked hair flattened over his face. Eyes barely open and very much unaware. Muttering something stolen by the howling wind and shushing rain.

The mage stood where he had been found. Faced the offending tree and held out his hands.

Fix it. Fix it.

The Gauntlet was too thin here. Was that his purpose? Things like him... they could get through. It wasn't safe. The Wasteland had no business beyond its borders.

But the world was an ice box. The Wasteland would steal his warmth for the attempt.

The sleeping mage whimpered, rubbed his hands together and felt at the thin film of Gauntlet. How could no one see this? This wall, like lava glass, shimmering in the rain.

And something wanted to come through. Something he had to prevent.

"Ik heb het." I've got it.

Kelly: “Rune! What the hell are you doing?”

Kelly was speaking loudly enough to be heard above the rain so why wasn’t the mage answering? Or even reacting?

“Dammit, Rune!” Something wasn’t right here.

Kelly descended the porch steps, only vaguely yearning for his cane as he approached the mage in front of his tree. Rune was soaked to the skin and freezing, completely out of it, saying things Kelly couldn’t understand.

Was he…?

Kelly took the mage’s shoulder and shook him. “Rune!”

Rune: The world he knew was gone. The Wasteland, the crawling figure in the blackness reaching his cadaverous hand towards the glistening wall.

Thrusted back to the frigid, waking world, the mage could only scream. In his fight-or-flight response, Rune threw a punch aimed for Kelly's chest. His heart hammered in his own, air caught in his throat as he flinched from the massive hands around his soaked shoulders.

Kelly: If Kelly took the time to think about it, he could probably remember at least one thing he’d come across in his life that warned not to wake a sleepwalker suddenly.

Unfortunately for him and the fist he’d just taken to the chest, taking a moment to think wasn’t very high up on the list of priorities when a drowned rat of a mage appeared in one’s yard in the middle of the night. That and the scream really just put a cherry on top of this motherfucker of a day.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

“Don’t freak out,” he said to the mage, removing his hands. “It’s just me. You’re back in my yard. Get inside before you actually do freeze to death.”

Rune: Like punching a wall of clay. His hand trembled with adrenaline, eyes wide despite the rain on his lashes. Looking around at the damnable familiar scene. Only difference seemed to be the lighting.

And Kelly's nearness. Not the first time being violently awakened, but the first to have a wolf in his face about it.

Why had he...?

Rune swallowed thickly, gasped, and looked back to the tree. The reason his hands were warm despite the unyielding weather.

"The... The... " So fucking tired. How to even explain.

"The wall, it's thin. Someone's - A memory wants..."

Kelly: “Unless something is about to crawl out of there in the next few minutes and eat the entire town, it can wait. Inside. Do not make me carry you.”

Rune wasn’t the only one who was fucking exhausted, although Kelly’s exhaustion was manifesting with a great deal more irritation due to the rain. It would satisfy him greatly to lay the entire blame at the mage’s feet but he simply could not.

Constant pain did not make for an agreeable disposition. Even less so when it was cold, wet, and he hadn’t had the presence of mind to put on a shirt.

Rune: "I'm not finished." There was much to take in at once. Too much. The rain, the wind, the cold, the thinning membrane, the wall of muscle and scars in front of him.

Being jerked out of his sleep was jarring enough without being overstimulated visually.

It took only a moment to realize the time, down to the passing seconds. Rune shook his head and sucked in a breath. Best to get this over with.

"Go. I've got this."

Kelly: Kelly heaved the longest sigh known to man and weighed his options. Either he carried Rune inside, got wet, and risked this repeating or he waited for Rune to do whatever, potentially avoided carrying him and getting wet, and nipped any further late night sleepwalking episodes in the bud.

Answer was easy enough really.

“Hurry up,” he muttered, moving the umbrella so it also covered the mage.

Rune: The bluff had been called, but it hadn't been his intention. He turned back to the tree and breathed into his hands. This cold was reminiscent of his birth. Only a vague unease told him to end this quickly, but efficiently. If he had to come back to this tree one more fucking time it would be too damn soon.

Shaking hands returned to the invisible surface, flattening against what Kelly should have been able to see. A wall like wet glass, fluid and pliable, darkened by the existence on the other side.

He couldn't leave this. The barrier felt thin enough to puncture with enough pressure.

He began to pray in Dutch, letting his primal energy radiate outwards, not only thickening the Gauntlet, but warming the Garou behind him from the inside out.

Kelly: Oh yes, Kelly could see it. He was all too familiar with that wall and knew very well what lay beyond it, having been taught from a young age and having involuntarily gotten some practical experience.

He supposed it was a stroke of luck that Rune had fallen through his tree. There was nothing pleasant in the Umbra, and there certainly wasn’t anything he wanted to have to deal with should something manage to come through.

Kelly felt oddly caught between wanting to shy away from the warmth and wanting to let it comfort him. This was different from the warmth he’d felt before, if only because he wasn’t being touched and Rune wasn’t laser focused on him and trying to read him this time.

‘Trying’ made it sound like the mage hadn’t succeeded and Kelly damn well knew he had but what was a little denial if it was just him in his own head?

Besides, it beat thinking about what Rune must have seen.

Rune: Rune only backed away by an inch. Something on the other side had caught him off guard. Pressing his back against the muscular pillar of Kelly's chest, his words stuttered, frozen, staring at the wild-eyed look of the footless man on the other side. His bony hand pressed to the Umbral membrane on the other side.

"Kelly, help." If anyone could, it would be a creation made for side-stepping beyond human sight.

Rune dropped to his knees, pressed forward with both hands. His head heavy from the cold hung low as he prayed louder, in earnest. Awake only by shock, urgency, stinging sweat, and threatening chill. Strength barely tethered by a thread.

Kelly: “You’re all right.” Kelly’s calm reassuring words sounded like a purr in their softness, meant as much for Rune as for the being trapped on the other side. “This place isn’t for you.”

Unconsciously, he crowded closer to the mage and rested a hand on his shoulder, never taking his eyes off the tree. If the man made a move, Kelly wouldn’t hesitate to toss the umbrella and stop him.

Rune: The man, his memory, was panicked. Existing on pure instinct. Mouth agape and panting. His left eye was barely open, purple and swollen. More and more detail Rune refused to see, intentionally staring down at the flooded grass.

"Je bent hier niet gewenst." To quote Kelly, "This place isn't for you."

In all of his years, never had he seen a Wasteland memory pierce the Umbral barrier, puncturing the slippery membrane. One, two, three fingers. Rune quickly covered the pawing osseous fingers with both hands, pushing them through with heated Dutch words, only to gasp in surprise as the creature began pulling him inwards, screaming pleas in Cantonese.

Kelly: How strange it was that Kelly could feel any sort of tenderness toward something so painfully horrifying. Perhaps because he sympathized. Empathized. How many of his memories were trapped in the Wastes? How much of his pain was immortalized there? Had that really been what had brought this mage to him?

Questions that would have to wait to be pondered, if they were pondered at all.

Kelly was ready. Despite the state of him, his reflexes remained quick.

He wrapped one arm around Rune’s torso and pulled him back, holding Rune to his body while using his free hand to pry the man’s hands away.

Whatever warmth he could provide would be shared with the mage so he could finish closing the gap.

Rune: How could one exist without faith, when Rune survived the benefits every single day? One might describe Kelly's participation a miracle. One might label his reason for finding the wolf a curse.

But Rune was only grateful as he was pulled back from that sorrowful abyss. Usual methods, he realized, were much too gentle. Quickly thinking, Rune bit mercilessly at the corner of his lip, wincing as he pierced his skin, spat saliva and blood onto his palm and smeared his blessing onto the thickening Gauntlet.

The terror-stricken figure began to fade. His voice, gurgles, and screams along with his image. Forced back through the hardening barrier, until nothing but his haunting impression remained.

"Kelly..."

Kelly: ‘I’m sorry’, Kelly thought as he watched the man disappear through the curtain of rain. ‘I promise it isn’t any better out here.’

Sighing, Kelly crouched down and hoisted the mage up over his shoulder and picked up his discarded umbrella. He’d had enough of the rain and the cold.

He was fucking exhausted, absolutely everything hurt, and he was probably well on his way toward pneumonia. They were fucking going inside.

Rune: He didn't know what he expected from saying Kelly's name, but being thrown over his shoulder as one would a barrel of beer hadn't crossed his mind.

Both hands held on for dear life. Eyes heavy, he felt the weight of his deed like a heavy blanket over his entire being. His muscles began to relax before they even reached the door.

"Need to get you warm," he sighed.

Kelly: “Says the human ice cube.”

Kelly didn’t bother taking off his shoes as he stepped inside. No point in trying to minimize the mess when they were both dripping everywhere and mopping was going to be required anyway.

He made a beeline for the bathroom, flipping on the light and turning on the shower before finally setting Rune on his feet.

“Strip.”

Rune: There was no denying the shiver down to his bones, but it was Kelly covered in scars, with some foreign object somewhere in his body Rune couldn't find. It was Kelly's yard. His damn screams.

Maybe he'd forget them now.

"Is this our first or third date?" Nails softly scraped the wolf's back as he was dismounted. It had yet to dawn on him how long he'd been carried, but he knew he missed his warmth no sooner than his toes touched the tile.

"I can't feel my fucking fingers," came the grumbling, leaving his soaked shirt at their feet. He realized there was a heater right in front of him, and he had no qualms placing his icicle hands on that impressive chest, his forehead not far behind.

"Thanks."

Kelly: "Just strip."

Once he'd gotten some actual sleep and wasn't caught up in everything he'd just witnessed, Kelly was probably going to have some feelings about the fact that his scarred, mangled torso was fully visible. For now though, his only concern was not getting sick.

Kelly hissed out a breath and scowled down at Rune. Little warning before his body heat was leeched would've been nice. "You have until the water warms properly then I'm prying you off. You're cold enough to give fucking frostbite."

The gratitude was only acknowledged in the fact that Kelly remained still and allowed himself to be touched. He was too tired for anything else.

Rune: "Mhm. Fuck."

Warmth was just one comfort. That same pillar of strength that saved him from the abyss was now a source of calm. This man was nothing if not a curmudgeon, but every action leading up to this moment was taken into account. Drop after drop that filled the metaphorical bucket.

"Hey," Rune shivered.

Kelly: The shiver was all the prompting Kelly needed to stick his hand in the shower to check the temperature. He hadn't been out nearly as long as Rune but even so, there was only so much heat he could give.

"Mm?" he grunted, gently prying the mage off of him and urging him toward the shower.

Rune: Are you gay? Bi? Are you into me? Did you follow me to The Brig? Why did you take me back to Pete's?

Drops in the bucket. Enough to notice, but to say something could tip the bucket over.

Being pried from the warmth of Garou skin was enough motivation to strip what remained of his clothes. Back to the start, having walked in the rain and the dark in Kelly's offerings. His host was not the only one with scars.

"Nothing."

Kelly: "Suit yourself." Whether Rune had scars or not was something Kelly was going to remain ignorant of because he wasn't letting his eyes linger anywhere on Rune but his face. This was not the time to be ogling.

He gathered up the wet clothes and said, "I'll leave clothes for you on the chair like before."

Rune: Rune would have argued differently. Some of the best sex in his experience had come from the aftermath of horrific events.

Eyes squeezed shut. Where was his mind? But then, maybe wolves were elitist. Speciesist? Racist? Whatever. Stop thinking about it.

"You're a good man," was more than a throwaway line.

Kelly: Hearing that made Kelly feel even more uncomfortable than being touched or looking into the mirror that was the Umbra ever could. A good man? Not him. Not anymore. Not by a longshot.

"That's the hypothermia talking," he said quietly, stepping out of the bathroom and letting the door close softly behind him.

Doing things allowed his mind to quiet, even if they were small. He tossed their wet clothes in the wash, got a hoodie and pajama pants for Rune, got blankets and a pillow from the closet and put them on the couch, took a quick hot shower that lasted all of five minutes.

And when that didn't quite do it, he poured himself some whiskey once he was dressed again.

Rune: Rune settled underneath the stream, head ducked against his knees. He could have slept there. Wouldn't have been his first time, and certainly not his last. Seconds became minutes. Before he realized the danger, he was out like a light, walking the streets of Amsterdam as a timid 7-year-old child. A hundred eyes were upon him as he ran his fingers along the whitewashed walls, reading every sign carefully until he found his father's favorite bar. The same acrid familiarity of salty sea air and smoke, sardines and ale. Old hardwood floors and sweat. Not his first time looking for his father some late afternoon.

And there his father was, asleep at a table cradling a pint with all the love of a failure.

"Papa..."

Rune jolted from his dream, now clinging to the side of the tub.

What the Hell is this place doing to me?

His fingers still ached, but he would survive. This wasn't the dead of winter. Just an unlucky night. Or lucky? There was so much to meditate on. Too much, maybe.

The water was shut off. Another minute of reflection in the comfort of Kelly's tub before forcing himself to his feet. His legs weren't much better than his hands.

This little ritual was a comfort, except now the door was open with abandon. Kelly had pretended not to see him naked, but modesty was no longer an amusing taunt as it had been. He would dress then and there in the doorway.

Kelly: Kelly registered the bathroom door opening but didn’t turn to look.

From his vantage point, Rune would be able to catch a glimpse of him sitting at the table nursing a glass of whiskey. There was a towel around Kelly’s neck that he’d been using to dry his hair and he was once again dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt that hid the majority of his scars from view. Rune had already gotten an eyeful but it didn’t matter. It was the principle of the thing.

“Did you eat what Bobby made you?” he wondered.

Rune: Rune much preferred him shirtless, but couldn't blame him for wanting to keep warm. It was lucky he was intact. No idea how long he'd been out in that rain, or how long Kelly had taken to get to him.

The old man's face still lingered with him.

"It's in the fridge in room seven."

Kelly: "So you still haven't eaten then," Kelly sighed. Why wasn't he surprised? It was probably too much to expect for Rune to take even remotely proper care of himself. Where were his self-preservation instincts? Maybe it was a mage thing. How many times had he heard Tristan Seger tell Leslie not to burn the candle at both ends?

"I have ramen, hot pockets, and a strong aversion to driving in the rain to take you to the ER if you keel over from low blood sugar. So what's it gonna be?"

Rune: "It was supposed to be breakfast," he shrugged. Ready to make an argument that he'd eaten hours ago, but knew in his gut it was useless. Opening and closing rifts wasn't some cheap parlor trick.

He swallowed down his rebellion and stepped closer, glancing over Kelly's shoulder at something.

"Gonna eat with me?"

Kelly: Rune had been shaking when Kelly had taken him to Bobby and he’d been planning to save the sandwich for breakfast?

Absolutely zero self-preservation. None.

Kelly contemplated his whiskey for a moment and shrugged. “Might as well. Ramen or hot pocket?”

Rune: Rune had his reasons. His belly hadn't been completely empty, but couldn't argue with a man that didn't voice his opinion out loud.

Only tighten his lips when catching glimpses.

"Mm... I'll eat anything pastry adjacent."

Kelly: “Hot pocket it is.”

Kelly swallowed a groan and suppressed a wince as he got to his feet and went to the freezer. His body wasn’t happy with him and there would be hell to pay for it later.

“Pepperoni or ham and cheese?”

Rune: That groan wasn't lost on him. "I can get it."

Rune hopped on the counter between the fridge and the microwave and held out his hands. "Give. Come on."

Kelly: Just as Rune was too tired to rebel, Kelly was too tired to argue. He gave the mage one of each hot pocket since he was determined not to give a straight answer and went to fill the kettle for ramen for himself.

Rune: Here Rune was assuming one was for Kelly, and the kettle was for tea. He couldn't catch all thoughts.

"I need a gallon of genever, a pound of white widow, and a meteor shower to enjoy it with."

Kelly: “You’re shit out of luck on all three counts.”

While the water boiled, Kelly took a couple of Vicodin with the rest of his whiskey.

Rune: All the while, two brown eyes watched him, paying little heed to anything else. Without his preferred vices, it was easy to get lost in something as stimulating as a wolf.

"Where is it?" he asked. "Something metal."

Kelly: Kelly frowned in confusion as he refilled his glass. “We’re in a kitchen, there’s metal everywhere.”

Rune: The mage sighed. "Like pulling teeth."

He dropped from the counter, making himself at home in search of a glass, drinking water from the tap.

Kelly: He continued to frown, regarding Rune with the same blank look of confusion until the meaning of the question pierced the fog of exhaustion.

Of course Rune had felt it. He’d touched him.

“Same answer. There’s metal everywhere.”

Rune: Rune stared from behind his cup for a moment. Watched and debated his next words. A rarity. Weighed by every moment in Kelly's presence.

"What's it like to change with that?"

Kelly: “It’s a barrel of laughs,” he said, taking the kettle and filling the cup of ramen.

Rune: He couldn't bitch about a straight answer, not when he'd been given a handful, but he was greedy, and now scheming.

"Do you believe me now?"

Kelly: He wasn’t going to press for more? Kelly wasn’t sure he could believe that.

“Believe you about what?”

Rune: He shrugged. "You looked at me like I'm crazy. About the Wasteland. Your screams."

Kelly: “My memories are inside my head, not in the Wastes. And you would look at someone like they were crazy too if they fell out of your tree.”

Rune: "You're not fucking stupid." Denial at this point made zero sense to him.

Kelly: “You’re a card player, yes?”

Rune: "What's your gotcha?"

Kelly: “As a card player, you of all people should know to play things close to the vest.”

Rune: "Sure, but lying about how I found you is just stupid. Lie better. About something you can lie about."

Kelly: “I don’t have to lie better. Lying well is for people who don’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I do.”

Rune: "You know the phrase 'if you have to say it out loud'?"

Kelly: “Nope.” Kelly got a fork from a drawer and took his ramen to the kitchen table. “I was serious about not wanting to drive you to the ER. Eat.”

Rune: He would have stayed in the kitchen, back on the counter, but felt inclined to follow, to sit across from the wolf and keep his presence in front. Mayo, hot sauce, a butter knife, and Hot Pockets brought along on a plate.

He'd live with the silence long enough to make his sauce on the side of the plate.

"So what kinda witch is he?"

Kelly: If only the silence could stretch the duration of the meal but alas, Kelly knew a pipe dream when he contemplated one. There’d be no escaping conversation.

His brow furrowed. “What kind of witch is who?”

Rune: "The one you were on the phone with."

Kelly: Had Rune intentionally listened in or had Kelly been louder than he’d intended on the phone? Both options irked him different ways but it all amounted to the same thing.

“Verbena.”

Rune: A soft look of surprise, after a moment he dipped his pastry and took a bite. Not so surprising when he really thought about it. Small town, a beautiful wounded wolf. It was Kelly's knowledge that caught him off guard. Verbena was highly specific. Could have said blood witch, flower child, 60's kid. Verbena were either horror or benign.

"Twenty questions isn't your game?" He realized, Kelly hadn't asked a single thing. Nothing probing.

Kelly: Now that was an interesting look. Was Rune surprised that Kelly knew the answer or was he surprised at the answer itself?

Since he’d been given an opening, he figured he might as well take it. They were awake anyway.

“You surprised at the answer or that I actually know it?”

Rune: "That you'd tell me," slipped his lips before he could filter.

Kelly: Kelly shrugged. “He’d probably tell you himself if you asked.”

Rune: Ah. "You rationalize everything you say and do?" Hardly any inflection in the question.

Kelly: “Doesn’t everyone?” Isn’t that how people like us manage to live and do so undetected?

Rune: "Sometimes," he smiled to himself. "Half of what I do runs on instinct."

Kelly: “Mine usually tell me to rationalize. Doing it keeps me alive.”

Rune: "A rational wolf." He nodded. "Sure. That why you followed me around town?"

Kelly: “I didn’t follow you,” Kelly muttered, deliberately taking a bite in hopes of delaying the elaboration he knew he was about to be asked for.

Rune: An elaboration was certainly called for, but asking would shed a light on other things.

Might as well get to the heart of his curiosity. He could be gone by tomorrow.

"Be as vague as you want: do you still have a reason to scream?"

Kelly: Oh this was much worse than being made to elaborate. How someone could ask a stranger such an intimate question like it was nothing was beyond Kelly, and Rune had done it more than once.

“Do you sincerely believe that’s why you ended up falling through my tree?”

Rune: "I sleepwalk all the time. I have a house in the Caribbean I haven't seen in years. Been everywhere. Usually when I wake up, it's because something woke me up. What wakes me up... needs help."

Rune stared off at nothing for a moment. A lifetime of history behind his eyes.

"Maybe it was sealing the rift," he swallowed.

Kelly: So this was a common occurrence then. Kelly had to wonder what the point was of having a house if you were never there and always sleepwalking. Maybe knowing the house existed was comfort enough.

Kelly sighed and put his fork down. He hoped it was just the rift. Things would be simpler if it was just the rift. Easier. He said as much to Rune.

“I’m sure you’re very capable, but there’s nothing you can help me with. Not everything can be helped or fixed.”

Rune: Of course Kelly wanted it to be the rift.

The mage scoffed. "I know I'm gorgeous, but I'm not a kid." I'm definitely older than you. "I know there's lost and hopeless causes. I don't think you're either one. I just don't know what the hell you are."

Kelly: He gave Rune a skeptical look. “Now that I don’t believe. You sussed out what I am when you pressed your cross to my head. You know exactly what I am.”

Rune: "Not like that." Should he elaborate? Why not. "What cause you are." Maybe if he stared long enough it would come to him.

Kelly: “What cause? I ain’t got one. I’m just trying to survive like everyone else.”

Rune: "You had one before."

Kelly: “Yeah, and look where it got me,” he scoffed.

Rune: "So, is this a burned hand on a stove thing?"

Kelly: “You could say that. Only difference between me and a lot of others in this town is what I am. Besides that, I’m just trying to get through the fuckin’ day.”

Rune: Rune couldn't avert his gaze. The answer was there, he just couldn't articulate. Squinting only helped a little.

His half-eaten torn pastry was pushed aside.

"Will you give me a week? Here, in this house. As a... thank you. I need to find a damn node in the meantime."

Kelly: “You want to stay here? With me?” Kelly’s tone came off more surprised and maybe a little confused rather than hostile. Was Rune really putting that much stock in the fact that it was precisely Kelly’s yard he’d ended up in?

More importantly, why was Kelly not immediately shutting that suggestion down and telling Rune exactly where he could find one of those nodes?

Rune: Rune was surprised himself. Not only for the lack of hostility, but with Kelly skirting past the mention of gratitude. He expected to explain himself. Perhaps his intention would be a surprise by the end of the week.

"Better than some hotel. I can tie myself down here."

Kelly: Still the hostility and urge to refuse didn’t come. Why didn’t they? He’d already intended to have Rune sleep on the couch for the night but the leap from that to staying a week was huge, especially for a man who preferred to spend the majority of his time alone.

But somehow, the only thing Kelly could think to say was, “There isn’t a bed in the extra room. You’d be staying on the couch.”

Rune: Deep brown eyes had softened, staring into amber with all of the authority of an old friend. Despite every denial, there was every instance of insisting his nearness. He wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when his own intention was a gift in kind.

You're a fucking enigma, aren't you?

"Got some rope? Paracord?"

Kelly: Kelly would’ve agreed with Rune had he known what the mage was thinking. He was an enigma to himself in this moment, although in truth, it could be said that he’d been an enigma to himself from the moment he’d spotted Rune in the yard.

This day didn’t make a lick of sense and neither did Kelly’s responses to it. Maybe he’d finally lost his mind.

He nodded. “I’ve got rope. You really gonna tether yourself?”

Rune: Rune had no basis to go on but this strange day. This was the Kelly he knew. Stoic, dismissive, and adherent. A strange but endearing contradiction, and he would much rather his company than some inn.

He couldn't help but smile, letting slip, "You eat me if I do? Big bad wolf."

Kelly: Kelly gave Rune a flat look. “Eat your dinner,” he said, turning back to his ramen. Big bad wolf? More like big, tired wolf. At this rate he wasn’t going to get any sleep at all.

Rune: "Fucking with you." He couldn't eat the rest. Or well, wouldn't. Nothing but meats covered in cheese. Horrible, horrible cheese. He got up to clean his plate, returning with a glass of water, placed on Kelly's side of the table.

"Where's rope?"

Kelly: "I'll get it," he said just a little too quickly, downing the rest of the ramen broth and getting to his feet. "It's outside and you're closer to pneumonia than I am."

Without waiting to see if Rune would protest, Kelly put on his muddy shoes that he'd placed by the back door and stepped out with his umbrella in hand, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Rune: "I'll do something else the - hey! You just showered!" Didn't he? The towel and clothes - oh, Hell.

"If you have zip ties, I can -" and, gone.

He could have chased, but they would both be right back where they started.

By the time he returned, Rune was waiting at the door with Kelly's towel, water boiling at the stove for tea.

Kelly: Potentially getting wet again was the least of Kelly’s concerns. There was no way in hell he was letting Rune get anywhere near the shed because if he did, it would only bring up questions that Kelly was absolutely not ready or willing to answer.

Even turning on the light felt like too much risk, lest Rune see something he wasn’t supposed to from the kitchen window. Luckily Kelly kept his things well organized and found exactly what he was looking for and was back inside in a matter of moments.

“I’m fine,” he said to Rune as he slipped his shoes off again. “Umbrella did its job.”

Rune: Dry or not, the towel was going around his massive shoulders. Squeezed like a knot at his chest.

All of that for rope? For him? He wouldn't apologize for being trouble. Not in his vocabulary.

"I'm making something with hot water. Coffee or tea?"

Kelly: Fine. Kelly would accept the towel. No use wasting some of his last remaining energy arguing over the need for it, just like it wasn’t worth arguing that he didn’t need a hot drink.

Hell, maybe some of that sleep tea would do him some good.

“Tea. Box is in that drawer there,” he added, pointing to it.

Rune: "Ziezo," the mage sing-songed, nudging Kelly back towards the table. A glance was given to the rope, judging the length and where he might be putting it. Not too tight or heavily anchored. Just enough tug to wake himself up. Just for tonight.

"You're not from here."

Kelly: Kelly sank back into his chair with as silent a groan as he could manage. His body was slowly going from annoyed with him to angry and it wouldn’t let up until the rain did.

“Nope. From farther up north.”

Rune: "New England wolves. Interesting," he muttered, taking out enough tea for two. "When I think of America, I think of wendigo. Vampires in New Orleans. Only met a coyote man in California."

Kelly: Rune had been on the money but Kelly vaguely wondered why his mind had gone there. ‘Farther up north’ could mean anything from Virginia to Nova Scotia.

“Don’t know about coyote men but you can find vampires just about everywhere.”

Rune: "Just about? Met one as a kid?"

Kelly: Kelly nodded. “They’re like the mob, they’re everywhere.” Sure a mage must know that.

Rune: "I guess so..." He thought about his own circles. Stared off into the distance.

"My first was a mage, I think, or a demon. Don't know."

Kelly: “Your first what?”

Rune: "First anything. First didn't-feel-right."

Kelly: “Ah.” Kelly nodded in understanding, vaguely wondering at what it must feel like to have led a human existence.

“Since you’re still here, smart money says it wasn’t a demon. Demon would’ve killed you for fun.”

Rune: "Maybe. Find them in asylums in lonely corners of cities, sometimes, chatting away with the bored elders that made them. Djinn, Nephilim, Cult of Ecstasy."

He kept his eyes on their tea, swirling both spoons simultaneously.

"Was in a bar where I saw him."

Kelly: “Must be like watching an ant farm for them.” Hell, there were ordinary people for whom life was spent interacting with people that way, and those people usually ended up in positions of power.

“All the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up?”

Rune: "Already were. I was this big," he motioned to his thigh.

Kelly: Kelly wouldn’t ask what Rune was doing in a bar when he was that little or why; he could guess. After all, he’d grown up in a tiny town where the only thing to do was drink.

“He approach you?”

Rune: Kelly would have his answer soon enough. With a cup of tea replacing his whiskey, his guest sat across from him.

"Was playing poker with my father."

Kelly: More of the image came together, and it wasn’t a pretty picture at all.

“And winning, I’m guessing.”

Rune: He smiled at his cup of tea and took a sip.

"Almost bet me once."

Kelly: Kelly shook his head. “Sounds like a swell guy. He still around?”

Rune: The pause in reply was rather critical. Eventually he shrugged. "Nope."

Kelly: Either the man was dead or no longer in Rune’s life, but it amounted to the same thing.

“Congratulations,” he said, finally sipping his tea. And he meant it.

Rune: His laugh was almost startled. Covering his mouth long enough to wipe a bit of tea.

"Thank you."

[wildroseofarran]

What is Needed || Quintane || July, 2023

Q: Q plops in Tane's lap, stealing the remote to turn off the TV.

Tane: Tane was happy to give up the remote, because it meant his hands were free to wrap around Q instead!

Q: "I wanna ask - hi," he laughed.

Tane: “Hiiii…” He kissed Q’s shoulder. “You wanted to ask what?”

Q: "Soooo, uh... I have this client... that... wants me to be a birthday present for his new boyfriend." He turned just enough to look at Tane. "I want you to come with me."

Tane: It was the dynamic at play there rather than the nature of the request that had Tane saying, “…Huh,” and humming thoughtfully.

“Can I ask why?”

Q: Q stared up at the ceiling, rather than the man he was sitting on. "You're not my pimp or anything, but, he's - I dunno. He was like, rough, last time."

Tane: A frown creased Tane’s brow. He didn’t like the sound of that, or the silent implication that it had made Q uncomfortable enough to want him to come along this time.

Tane kissed his shoulder again. “You just tell me the day and I’m there.”

Q: "It's $800, I don't wanna pass that up." As though he had felt Tane's thoughts. He felt a need to elaborate.

Tane: “You don’t have to justify yourself. Job’s a job, right?” And money was money. Everyone had to eat and pay their bills.

“Besides, you’re being safe. You’re bringing a big scary bouncer with you.”

Q: "Yeah," he scoffed, waved his hand. "Not laughing at you, just, the - never needed one before." That was a bold-faced lie, but moving on.

Tane: Tane strongly suspected that wasn’t true but he wouldn’t ask. What mattered was that in the here and now, when Q was feeling uncertain, he trusted Tane enough to ask him for help.

“I’m glad you asked me. I’m happy to sit in the corner and look intimidating so he doesn’t get any ideas.”

Q: "Probably not in the house, but like, out in the car, or - I dunno. If they wanted your cock, would you jump in?" He was laughing, but, serious just the same.

Tane: "Wherever you want me." Tane was a bouncer, after all; his looming presence was just as effective outside as it was inside, as all the unruly patrons of The Brig could attest.

He rested his chin on Q's shoulder as he contemplated that. "Knowing what kind of personalities are involved here? Probably not. Cute face can only get someone so far with me."

Q: "Yeah. I dunno. Maybe... Maybe I should... just... let him go." Tane's presence was strong, but it wasn't helping him figure out the correct course of action. He'd already said yes. Maybe he could lie, or just say fuck off. The man was... rough. He'd always given a bad feeling but nothing horrible had ever happened. Nothing worth saying no. This was just... something like gum on his shoe.

Tane: Tane gave Q a squeeze to comfort and reassure him and just because he wanted to. And maybe to drive home the point that Tane was there for him no matter what he decided.

"I'd say if it's worrying you and making you second guess, it might be worth it to really think about turning the job down. Money's money, yes, but your comfort and safety matter. Besides, there are always other clients."

Q: But it was sex, and he needed it. Needed it like he needed breathing. He knew what he was, once upon a time, but in the present, there was only the question of whether or not he was a nymphomaniac.

"Ok. Ok. I'll... tell him... no." But dorm rats fucked the hardest, and dorm rats were always wanton. It pained Q to even say no in this scenario.

Tane: Q didn't sound entirely sure either way, despite what he said. To Tane it was a no-brainer but Tane also wasn't the one in that position. All he could offer was advice.

He kissed Q's shoulder. "You make whatever decision you feel is best, okay? I'm there for you either way, however and whenever you need me."

Q: "Think I just need to do porn and get it over with," Q laughed, not quite reaching his eyes.

Tane: "You'd be amazing in porn." He shifted around and kissed the other shoulder, lips lingering. "Tell me what you need."

Q: "For you to do porn with me." His laugh was genuine this time.

Tane: Tane's kisses began creeping toward Q's neck. "I could probably be persuaded. What else do you need?"

Q: His eyes rolled closed, nuzzling into Tane's cheek. "Your hand on my cock."

[wildroseofarran]

{Text} You with a fucking range rover

{Text} My range rover runs fine

{Text} I meant Logan

[wildroseofarran]

    Q smiled to his old friend and lover, offered to fasten the necklace himself.

    “Can’t stay. Just wanted to give you this. Merry Christmas, baby. Don’t be a stranger, unless you wanna be a stranger,” he laughed.

Of course Luke would accept that offer, and give Q one of those hugs that was just a little too tight and too long.

“I don’t wanna be a stranger,” he said with a soft smile. “Promise I won’t be. I love the necklace.”

[wildroseofarran]

"Logan can wait for after! Be there in ten."

“Don’t get arrested for indecent exposure on the way here! Make sure that robe is closed!”

[wildroseofarran]

"I'm coming in a fucking robe. Warm up for me."

Tane just laughed. “We’re supposed to be calling Logan!”

[wildroseofarran]

"What if I came over? Hmm? Want a naked man in your house?"

“A random naked man? Nah, that’d be weird. A naked you? Now that sounds appealing.”

[wildroseofarran]

"My magic sense tells me you're coming over here to stay naked."

“I think your magic sense forgot I have to work soon,” he chuckled.

[wildroseofarran]

"Expensive-ass underwear turned tent. You're wearinnnnnnnnng nothing."

“Correct. Just got done showering.”

[wildroseofarran]

"Looking at cars online. Bored. Horny. Fuck you didn't call Logan yet, did you?"

Tane laughed. “No, not yet. I planned on asking you what you were wearing first.”

[wildroseofarran]

"Thought you worked today?" Q answered.

“I do, but not for another hour and a half. What are you up to?”

[wildroseofarran]

{Text} one sec i'll call ya

Tane would answer after only half a ring. “Hey, gorgeous.”

[wildroseofarran]

{Text} Wanna do a threeway call?

{Text} Sure!

{Text} She should be fine to talk, I think she’s home right now