In an odd turn of events, the residents of Falner Estate would wake up that morning to an empty lawn. What the regulars at the Main Mansion would see, instead, is the sight of Aidan Clayce walking through the corridors, heading for the wing dedicated to the Malice Kings.
Perhaps it was not so odd if one understood the context of the situation. Riley Falner - Daywalker of the Malice Kings, Master of the Falner Estate - had woken up only two weeks ago when he should have stayed asleep for centuries. After the Clerics made it certain that Riley would survive the ravages of the Deep Slumber, the vampire had been whisked away to his own quarters and given strict instructions to rest until his own legs could carry their weight. Liandrin Delacroix's stipulations, of course: she wasn't going to stand for having one of her own trundling about in a wheelchair or hobbling around with a cane when he really should be in bed.
Business had kept Aidan away for the past week. This was one of the reasons why the Voidseeker was heading up to see Riley; the other Malice Kings had picked up the slack, taking turns with the Daywalker in order to keep him company. Besides, to say that he had missed his old friend greatly would be one of the biggest understatements of the century.
The only thing the Daywalker was going to get before Aidan entered without hesitation was a single knock.
"Mm-hm," is the only response Aidan gets at first, absorbed as Riley is in reading through -- of all things -- the paper.
Or rather, the fourth in a stack of newspapers he'd quietly asked to be supplied. He'd been gone a long time, it was important that he caught up with things in the world as they were now, before backtracking the last four decades.
He finishes one last paragraph and makes a small mark with the pencil twirled idly in one hand, lifting his gaze to greet the Voidseeker. "Are you sure the children won't be disappointed to find their playground gone?"
He might have been relegated to house-arrest, but that didn't mean he hadn't had resources at his disposal to look around and check up on friends.
"I'm sure that they can manage without me. Besides, the Five have promised to turn up in my place."
Which meant, of course, that - as if to make up for his absence - all disappointed parties were going to find five smaller but no less interesting dragons flopping around the area in Aidan's place. He liked to think that it was a good trade-off.
Aidan's gaze swept over the entire room, taking everything in just once before he sat across of his old friend.
"As I've told you already," he quietly said, "things have been interesting lately."
He makes a soft sound, very much akin to a thoughtful "huh," his hand coming up to rub the back of his fingers beneath his chin.
"That they are." He offers a pleasant enough smile, the kind that said simply: Thank you. I was getting bored all by my lonesome.
He reaches out then, for one of the broadsheets that appears to have been tossed carelessly aside to the footstool he'd found so tedious to use ( he might be ancient, but the last thing Riley would ever want to be seen as was an invalid; he just needed a couple of weeks days to get back on steady feet ) and then frowns when he finds himself coming up short.
Thankfully, said newspaper is taking on a life of its own and meeting Riley half-way.
Who would have thought? Given the fact that Aidan himself is rather busy fetching an ashtray, setting it down between them, and reaching into the inner pocket of his coat for his cigars and his matches. It's only after he's done lighting up that he's sliding the case over, and smiling.
"Who was in here before me?"
Because neither of them needed to talk about how Riley is feeling, what he still needed, how much time he had to take off in order to be back up to snuff. Not yet, anyway.
"Alistair," Riley states simply, head inclined in a gesture of thanks as he slides one out for himself.
He turns the cigar over, the length of it balanced between the tips of his index fingers.
"I had heard talk that you'd grown comfortable with," he lets the sentence trail, the smile on his face with the barest hint of teasing -- though there is a look in his eyes that belies curiosity; maybe even surprise.
Aidan, in turn, had the grace to look a little embarrassed. It was written in the soft laugh, that brief, downward turn of his gaze, and the way one hand lifted, absentmindedly, to scratch the back of his head.
"Yeah. Well." A pause. "What is the point of enjoying life if one forces one's self to have so many rules?"
So many others had told him this, with Riley being the first, and the likes of Setsuna, Hikaru, Alistair, Maes and Calintz later on. Now he was finally taking their advice.
At the end of two straight weeks of fighting in the Dark Hour of the Middle East, engaging Wrecks and Umbra, eliminating Yama Kings in all stages of development, Hikaru Shinta is shifting out of the living blood he had been seconds before, and catching the closest side of the doorway with one shaking hand, right before he can tumble to the floor.
He's not too pleased to find himself here; this isn't in the plan at all. His actual destination should have been the Wolf's Ward, or - barring that - Kibo, up north. He is drained, though, tired within the very marrow of his bones. Perhaps that had distracted him long enough to shift the trajectory of his spell and bring him to precisely the place that he did not want to be. Too dangerous. Only too many people that he'd rather not deal with could see him like this.
Thankfully, he's arrived during one of those precious windows of time where no one's out and about because they're either out on the streets or off in their own corners of the estate grounds. There should be more than enough time for him to drag himself to his room and hide away until he's recovered enough to at least look fine even if he isn't fine at all.
It takes Hikaru an agonizing fifteen minutes of limping along, and he is only halfway up the stairs. On a normal night, he would have crossed those steps in less than a minute. This night - with the fever chills, the laughing voices, the wounds that open and close as if they have minds of their own, the graying hair, the ringing in his head - is not a normal night at all.
He had just crossed past the landing that overlooked the entrance when his ears catch the familiar breathing of Hikaru -- but this time, labored, tired.
He's there before the Blade King can take another step, one hand gentle on the younger man's elbow; enough to support without taking the full weight because he knows better than to add insult to already grave injury.
It takes Hikaru a split second too long to register the grip on his arm, the weight of another's presence, the sound of someone else beyond Him talking.
Tonight just isn't his night.
"Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you do that?"
He was beyond caring whether he sounded angry or not; a part of him hoped that he did. What came out instead, though, was the exhaustion, the thinning line of a body breaking under each and every wave of agony that washed over it.
"Possibly," Riley hides his concern beneath the hint of a smile, but his eyes are alert and attentive. His other hand comes to settle on Hikaru's shoulder, decptively casual, but undisputedly firm.
When he speaks again, it is conversational. And this time, the smile slips. "Come keep me company, Hikaru."
He doesn't like the sound of that hitch between the boy's syllables, and not for the first time does he wish that there was something else that he could do than merely offer support like this.
Attack of the OCD. This is why the edit feature is a Bad Idea for me. OTL
And it takes him a long time to get the words out, because every cell in his body is screaming for him to cut loose and run and because he can barely keep himself together.
He shuts his eyes and breathes out. It hurts, and the next breath he takes is bound to hurt some more, but he can't stop. He can't afford to. (Who will, after all, be left to shoulder the Song, and the lives that dance to the tune that he has made with it?)
"It's just you there, right?"
Please. You're more than enough.
The thought alone of Aidan Clayce and Liandrin Delacroix being there - the man he still held above everyone else, and the woman he left behind - destroyed him. (And there is a third, the one he cannot - will not - bring himself to name. The one who probably won't be there anyway.)
Edited 2014-01-13 10:17 (UTC)
L M F A O somehow, i am not surprised in the least :p
The only response is a look, one that is both telling enough of his concern and firm enough with the unspoken let me help, just this once and I swear to you, we shall never speak of it -- ever.
Riley's hand is firm then, beneath Hikaru's elbow, the other arm a steady fixture spanning the Blade King's shoulders. He does not move, and in that, is respectfully offering assistance in the way a parent might a mule-headed child who insists he can handle things that in actuality he cannot.
"Hikaru," he says in quiet near-admonition. "Really."
You are not the only one who utterly abhors the idea of showing weakness.
[She tries, of course, to be patient for the rest of the day, after the time that Wolf's Choice is given with Riley Falner runs out and they inevitably have to make way for other blades. She may be the Golden Hand of the Daywalker, but she isn't the only one out there who has missed her mentor. He's been asleep for far too long, even if, at the end of it, he shouldn't even be up yet.
Nevertheless, patient as she is, she can't stop herself from pacing around in the gardens all the way until evening, long after the rest of her blade has gone their separate ways. Raura is her shadow, offering his silent support as she keeps vigil. Riley will call her when he is ready, or he will call her and tell her when they can talk. She knows this. holds on to it with all her might just as she had held on even when things had started to take a turn for the worst back during the Darkest Vigil.
She does, after all, believe in him the way a daughter who loves her father very much ought to believe in the man who raised her.]
[ It's a full day of catching up, one that he feels is very much needed, but it doesn't take away the fact that his body is still seeking the sleep he should still be in which means that by the time the last blade has walked away, Riley is tired.
He asks then, where he might find Barbara, learns that she has in fact, been pacing in the gardens and promptly turns to Lex with the request to please indulge him a while longer, old friend: his daughter needs him. Because she is that. For where Hikaru has Tala, Barbie is his in all the ways he would have wished, had the promise of a life and family not been so tragically snatched from his fingertips. ]
[Both of them hear Riley and Lex's approach at a considerable distance, of course: it wasn't like either of them were trying to hide it. As such, Barbie's settling down on one of the nearby benches, and Raura is leaving her with a squeeze to her shoulder and a kiss to her cheek.
Who would have ever thought that there'd be a day, a time, for the both of them? Then again, war tends to change things.
Either way, by the time Riley comes around, he'll find his girl seated, prim and proper, and looking really, really happy to see him.]
You know how it is, [ a smile -- one that is just for her in a particular kind of way -- before he says his thanks to Lex and they are finally left alone. ] Indulge in a nap for a handful of decades, come back to find everyone fussy.
[ Lifting a hand to her cheek then, eyes growing soft. He has missed this one. Seeing her earlier had been a highlight for him. ]
Beautiful as the day I first met you. [ Softer then: ] I failed to offer my congratulations. My darling girl, all grown up with her hand in politics.
Please do tell me that it isn't too much of a trial.
[ He's teasing. He saw your potential. You would not have become his Golden Hand otherwise. ]
[Barbie, on the other hand, is immediately shifting as close to Riley as she can, close enough to eventually lean her head against his shoulder. She can't stop smiling, and she really doesn't want to bother trying to.]
Oh, it's definitely not as fun as going out on the field and just getting medieval on well-deserving idiots, but it does have it's moments.
[How do you approach the Daywalker at a party??? This question is painted all over Taning's face as he hovers near the edge of Riley's personal space (which, considering his stature, is quite a big space indeed), looking for all the world like someone who wants to ask for his autograph. What he wants to talk to him about isn't quite something he knows how to approach him about, let alone talk to him about. Hence, the trepidation.
It is a nice time for a nice vampire lord to save the socially struggling mage. His scent should be begging PLEASE NOTICE ME, by now.]
[ Be it far from him to say this out loud, but really, Estanislao, you're being quite true to the little nickname that your blade has been... what is the word -- oh, yes: dinged with.
Come along, pup. ] Mr. Marasigan, would you like to join me for a cigar?
[ Yes, you have his attention. And yes, that is one offered your way. ]
[Welp. He looks startled, and then not-hurries over. It wouldn't do to lose his composure, not one bit. Kindhearted though he may be, the Daywalker is still a predator at heart.
Besides, he doesn't need to spill blood to... spill blood, ifyouknowwhatimean.]
Be glad to, sir, and I must say, it is good to see you up and about.
[ He's cutting both cigars as he says that and then offers the one he'd pulled out for you your way.
Lighting up now, and cutting to the chase. ]
You looked like you wanted to speak with me. [ A chuckle now. ] Pardon my directness, but I do hope you don't mind that I am.
[ No need to be wishy-washy around him. That you are the pupil of the Searing Wind's Assassin is telling. That you are the third of the Hounds is also interesting. That, and he's had extensive experience where it concerns mages of your line. ]
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Waking the Dead 2.0 || After Sleep
Perhaps it was not so odd if one understood the context of the situation. Riley Falner - Daywalker of the Malice Kings, Master of the Falner Estate - had woken up only two weeks ago when he should have stayed asleep for centuries. After the Clerics made it certain that Riley would survive the ravages of the Deep Slumber, the vampire had been whisked away to his own quarters and given strict instructions to rest until his own legs could carry their weight. Liandrin Delacroix's stipulations, of course: she wasn't going to stand for having one of her own trundling about in a wheelchair or hobbling around with a cane when he really should be in bed.
Business had kept Aidan away for the past week. This was one of the reasons why the Voidseeker was heading up to see Riley; the other Malice Kings had picked up the slack, taking turns with the Daywalker in order to keep him company. Besides, to say that he had missed his old friend greatly would be one of the biggest understatements of the century.
The only thing the Daywalker was going to get before Aidan entered without hesitation was a single knock.
"Riley."
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Or rather, the fourth in a stack of newspapers he'd quietly asked to be supplied. He'd been gone a long time, it was important that he caught up with things in the world as they were now, before backtracking the last four decades.
He finishes one last paragraph and makes a small mark with the pencil twirled idly in one hand, lifting his gaze to greet the Voidseeker. "Are you sure the children won't be disappointed to find their playground gone?"
He might have been relegated to house-arrest, but that didn't mean he hadn't had resources at his disposal to look around and check up on friends.
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Which meant, of course, that - as if to make up for his absence - all disappointed parties were going to find five smaller but no less interesting dragons flopping around the area in Aidan's place. He liked to think that it was a good trade-off.
Aidan's gaze swept over the entire room, taking everything in just once before he sat across of his old friend.
"As I've told you already," he quietly said, "things have been interesting lately."
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"That they are." He offers a pleasant enough smile, the kind that said simply: Thank you. I was getting bored all by my lonesome.
He reaches out then, for one of the broadsheets that appears to have been tossed carelessly aside to the footstool he'd found so tedious to use ( he might be ancient, but the last thing Riley would ever want to be seen as was an invalid; he just needed a couple of
weeksdays to get back on steady feet ) and then frowns when he finds himself coming up short.Oh, bother.
... ;w;
Who would have thought? Given the fact that Aidan himself is rather busy fetching an ashtray, setting it down between them, and reaching into the inner pocket of his coat for his cigars and his matches. It's only after he's done lighting up that he's sliding the case over, and smiling.
"Who was in here before me?"
Because neither of them needed to talk about how Riley is feeling, what he still needed, how much time he had to take off in order to be back up to snuff. Not yet, anyway.
:3
He turns the cigar over, the length of it balanced between the tips of his index fingers.
"I had heard talk that you'd grown comfortable with," he lets the sentence trail, the smile on his face with the barest hint of teasing -- though there is a look in his eyes that belies curiosity; maybe even surprise.
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"Yeah. Well." A pause. "What is the point of enjoying life if one forces one's self to have so many rules?"
So many others had told him this, with Riley being the first, and the likes of Setsuna, Hikaru, Alistair, Maes and Calintz later on. Now he was finally taking their advice.
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Waking the Dead 2.0 || I Know You Are But What Am I?
He's not too pleased to find himself here; this isn't in the plan at all. His actual destination should have been the Wolf's Ward, or - barring that - Kibo, up north. He is drained, though, tired within the very marrow of his bones. Perhaps that had distracted him long enough to shift the trajectory of his spell and bring him to precisely the place that he did not want to be. Too dangerous. Only too many people that he'd rather not deal with could see him like this.
Thankfully, he's arrived during one of those precious windows of time where no one's out and about because they're either out on the streets or off in their own corners of the estate grounds. There should be more than enough time for him to drag himself to his room and hide away until he's recovered enough to at least look fine even if he isn't fine at all.
It takes Hikaru an agonizing fifteen minutes of limping along, and he is only halfway up the stairs. On a normal night, he would have crossed those steps in less than a minute. This night - with the fever chills, the laughing voices, the wounds that open and close as if they have minds of their own, the graying hair, the ringing in his head - is not a normal night at all.
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He's there before the Blade King can take another step, one hand gentle on the younger man's elbow; enough to support without taking the full weight because he knows better than to add insult to already grave injury.
"Come join me in my office?"
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beyond Himtalking.Tonight just isn't his night.
"Have I ever told you how much I hate it when you do that?"
He was beyond caring whether he sounded angry or not; a part of him hoped that he did. What came out instead, though, was the exhaustion, the thinning line of a body breaking under each and every wave of agony that washed over it.
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When he speaks again, it is conversational. And this time, the smile slips. "Come keep me company, Hikaru."
He doesn't like the sound of that hitch between the boy's syllables, and not for the first time does he wish that there was something else that he could do than merely offer support like this.
Attack of the OCD. This is why the edit feature is a Bad Idea for me. OTL
He shuts his eyes and breathes out. It hurts, and the next breath he takes is bound to hurt some more, but he can't stop. He can't afford to. (Who will, after all, be left to shoulder the Song, and the lives that dance to the tune that he has made with it?)
"It's just you there, right?"
Please. You're more than enough.
The thought alone of Aidan Clayce and Liandrin Delacroix being there - the man he still held above everyone else, and the woman he left behind - destroyed him. (And there is a third, the one he cannot - will not - bring himself to name. The one who probably won't be there anyway.)
L M F A O somehow, i am not surprised in the least :p
Riley's hand is firm then, beneath Hikaru's elbow, the other arm a steady fixture spanning the Blade King's shoulders. He does not move, and in that, is respectfully offering assistance in the way a parent might a mule-headed child who insists he can handle things that in actuality he cannot.
"Hikaru," he says in quiet near-admonition. "Really."
You are not the only one who utterly abhors the idea of showing weakness.
/)_(\
;__; sorry so late
it's okey. '^'
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Waking the Dead 2.0 || April 4, 2063 || Wednesday
Nevertheless, patient as she is, she can't stop herself from pacing around in the gardens all the way until evening, long after the rest of her blade has gone their separate ways. Raura is her shadow, offering his silent support as she keeps vigil. Riley will call her when he is ready, or he will call her and tell her when they can talk. She knows this. holds on to it with all her might just as she had held on even when things had started to take a turn for the worst back during the Darkest Vigil.
She does, after all, believe in him the way a daughter who loves her father very much ought to believe in the man who raised her.]
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He asks then, where he might find Barbara, learns that she has in fact, been pacing in the gardens and promptly turns to Lex with the request to please indulge him a while longer, old friend: his daughter needs him. Because she is that. For where Hikaru has Tala, Barbie is his in all the ways he would have wished, had the promise of a life and family not been so tragically snatched from his fingertips. ]
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Who would have ever thought that there'd be a day, a time, for the both of them? Then again, war tends to change things.
Either way, by the time Riley comes around, he'll find his girl seated, prim and proper, and looking really, really happy to see him.]
Busy day, huh?
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[ Lifting a hand to her cheek then, eyes growing soft. He has missed this one. Seeing her earlier had been a highlight for him. ]
Beautiful as the day I first met you. [ Softer then: ] I failed to offer my congratulations. My darling girl, all grown up with her hand in politics.
Please do tell me that it isn't too much of a trial.
[ He's teasing. He saw your potential. You would not have become his Golden Hand otherwise. ]
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Oh, it's definitely not as fun as going out on the field and just getting medieval on well-deserving idiots, but it does have it's moments.
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Tell me more of how you have been?
[ They had been pressed for time earlier on. Now, at least, they would be able to speak at their leisure. ]
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It is a nice time for a nice vampire lord to save the socially struggling mage. His scent should be begging PLEASE NOTICE ME, by now.]
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Come along, pup. ] Mr. Marasigan, would you like to join me for a cigar?
[ Yes, you have his attention. And yes, that is one offered your way. ]
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Besides, he doesn't need to spill blood to... spill blood, ifyouknowwhatimean.]
Be glad to, sir, and I must say, it is good to see you up and about.
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[ He's cutting both cigars as he says that and then offers the one he'd pulled out for you your way.
Lighting up now, and cutting to the chase. ]
You looked like you wanted to speak with me. [ A chuckle now. ] Pardon my directness, but I do hope you don't mind that I am.
[ No need to be wishy-washy around him. That you are the pupil of the Searing Wind's Assassin is telling. That you are the third of the Hounds is also interesting. That, and he's had extensive experience where it concerns mages of your line. ]
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I wanted to speak to you about the Voidseeker, actually. Specifically, how to be a friend to the man.
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The smile he sends your way before he takes another puff is genuine though. Take it as you will. ]
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