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Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting, more of the same, but got silence instead. I turned my head to look up at his face and both nostrils. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back into our past.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest our angel from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the circle had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood despite the distance.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to 'jinx' it.

Looking at the building with the address on the card, Stella couldn't help but raise an ebon eyebrow in surprise. A mature gentleman walked past, his stride faltering as he caught sight of her irridescent pupils and pale skin set against her ebon hair and eyebrows, one of which was raised. She flashed a reflexive glittering smile his way. Taken by surprise the gentleman couldn't decide how to respond. His legs, having missed the memo, continued onwards as he turned his head to look back at her... then walked straight into a street stall... an impromptu and rapidly expanding distribution of knick knacks duly ensued.

Stella, one of Schadenfreude's bestest of friends, smirked at this.

Still..

A plot to unseat, not to mention unhead, a notorious gangster written on a lace doily of a house was not what she'd been expecting. Looking at the place the words that came to mind were herbal tea, laxatives, sticky buns and windchimes, when she'd been expecting masks, hidden daggers, venom and with the odd 'head in a box' thrown in for good measure.

"That's a friggin' good disguise", she muttered to herself, under her breath since she never swore, entirely unwilling to let outward appearances derail her desire for blood.

On that note, she stepped up to the door and let herself in, card in hand, then threw up in her mouth a little at the avalance of twee and kitsch that assailed her senses. Gods Grandma, you could've shown a little restraint.

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting, more of the same, but got silence instead. I turned my head to look up at his face and both nostrils. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back into our past.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest our angel from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the circle had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood despite the distance.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to 'jinx' it.

Looking at the building with the address on the card, Stella couldn't help but raise an ebon eyebrow in surprise. A mature gentleman walked past, his stride faltering as he caught sight of her irridescent pupils and pale skin set against her ebon hair and eyebrows, one of which was raised. She flashed a reflexive glittering smile his way. Taken by surprise the gentleman couldn't decide how to respond. His legs, having missed the memo, continued onwards as he turned his head to look back at her... then walked straight into a street stall... an impromptu and rapidly expanding distribution of knick knacks duly ensued.

Stella, one of Schadenfreude's bestest of friends, smirked at this.

Still..

A plot to unseat, not to mention unhead, a notorious gangster written on a lace doily of a house was not what she'd been expecting. Looking at the place the words that came to mind were herbal tea, laxatives, sticky buns and windchimes, when she'd been expecting masks, hidden daggers, venom and with the odd 'head in a box' thrown in for good measure.

"That's a friggin' good disguise", she muttered to herself, under her breath since she never swore, entirely unwilling to let outward appearances derail her desire for blood.

On that note, she stepped up to the door and let herself in, card in hand, then threw up in her mouth at the twee and kitsch that assailed her senses. Gods Grandma, you could've shown a little restraint.

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting, more of the same, but got silence instead. I turned my head to look up at his face and both nostrils. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back into our past.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest our angel from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the circle had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood despite the distance.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to 'jinx' it.

Looking at the building with the address on the card, Stella couldn't help but raise an ebon eyebrow in surprise. A gentleman walked past, his stride faltering as he caught sight of her pale skin set against her ebon hair and eyebrows, one of which was raised. She flashed a quick, reflexive smile his way. Taken by surprise the young man couldn't decide how to respond. His legs, having missed the memo, continued onwards as he turned his head to look back at her... then walked straight into a street stall... an impromptu and rapidly expanding distribution of knick knacks duly ensued.

Stella, one of Schadenfreude's bestest of friends, smirked at this.

Still..

A plot to unseat, not to mention unhead, a notorious gangster written on a lace doily of a house was not what she'd been expecting. Looking at the place the words that came to mind were herbal tea, laxatives, sticky buns and windchimes, when she'd been expecting masks, hidden daggers, venom and with the odd 'head in a box' thrown in for good measure.

"That's a friggin' good disguise", she muttered to herself, under her breath since she never swore, entirely unwilling to let outward appearances derail her desire for blood.

On that note, she stepped up to the door and let herself in, card in hand, then threw up in her mouth at the twee and kitsch that assailed her senses. Gods Grandma, you could've shown a little restraint.

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting, more of the same, but got silence instead. I turned my head to look up at his face and both nostrils. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back into our past.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest our angel from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the circle had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood despite the distance.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to 'jinx' it.

Looking at the building with the address on the card, Stella couldn't help but raise an ebon eyebrow in surprise. A gentleman walked past, his stride faltering as he caught sight of her pale skin set against her ebon hair and eyebrows, one of which was raised. She flashed a quick, reflexive smile his way. Taken by surprise the young man couldn't decide how to respond. His legs, having missed the memo, continued onwards as he turned his head to look back at her... then walked straight into a street stall... an impromptu and rapidly expanding distribution of knick knacks duly ensued.

Stella, one of Schadenfreude's bestest of friends, smirked at this.

Still..

A plot to unseat, not to mention unhead, a notorious gangster written on a lace doily of a house was not what she'd been expecting. Looking at the place the words that came to mind were herbal tea, laxatives, sticky buns and windchimes, when she'd been expecting masks, hidden daggers, venom and with the odd 'head in a box' thrown in for good measure.

"That's a friggin' good disguise", she muttered to herself, under her breath since she never swore, entirely unwilling to let outward appearances derail her desire for blood.

On that note, she stepped up to the door and let herself in, card in hand.

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting, more of the same, but got silence instead. I turned my head to look up at his face and both nostrils. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back into our past.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest our angel from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the circle had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood despite the distance.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to 'jinx' it.

Looking at the building with the address on the card, Stella couldn't help but raise an ebon eyebrow in surprise. A gentleman walked past, his stride faltering as he caught sight of her pale skin set against her ebon hair and eyebrows, one of which was raised. She flashed a quick, reflexive smile his way. Taken by surprise the young man couldn't decide how to respond. His legs, having missed the memo, continued onwards as he turned his head to look back at her... then walked straight into a street stall... an impromptu and rapidly expanding distribution of knick knacks duly ensued.

Stella, one of Schadenfreude's bestest of friends, smirked at this.

Still..

A plot to unseat, not to mention unhead, a notorious gangster written on a lace doily was not what she'd been expecting. Looking at the place the words that came to mind were herbal tea, laxatives, sticky buns and windchimes, when she'd been expecting masks, hidden daggers, venom and with the odd 'head in a box' thrown in for good measure.

"That's a friggin' good disguise", she muttered to herself under her breath, since she never swore, entirely unwilling to let outward appearances derail her desire for blood.

On that note, she stepped up to the door and let herself in, card in hand.

Stella Sucredes

"Fighting the darkness of my fallen angel heritage and taking it one day at a time."

Theme: Oh for a muse of fire

Phae, love of my life, was sitting in the chaise longue facing the third floor balcony window. He wasn't looking out though. He had his feet in a large bowl of water, where tiny fish were stripping dead skin from near his heels. He was reading Zintaphel aloud, whose latest massive tome on pushing the boundaries of alchemical enquiry had just arrived. I, on the other hand was lying down, his thighs a cushion for the side of my head, looking out the window, his hand in mine. It was, I suppose, the very picture of marital bliss. Unusually for a couple taking their ease in their own home, we were both very well dressed, Phaeton's socks, washed that morning, were folded on the adjoining table, smelling faintly of lavender. We'd vowed, following our degradation, to always be sartorially elegant and lightly perfumed. We'd had enough foulness, from our period of addiction, to last two lifetimes. Besides, Anais, Phaeton's harpy of a mother might show up unexpectedly, as was her wont, hoping to catch us in a state of dishevelment. The court's judgement was that if we kept our noses, and everything else for that matter, clean for a year, that Anais would have to return our little girl, Celeste, to us. Across the circle, Gemshare Jewellers, the brothers Fontaine, were showing off jewellery to Lord and Lady Vereen, while a trio of musicians played music, almost as if it were for us alone. I found myself humming along quietly to it. Dorian Fontaine, the elder of the two, turned to the window and grinned broadly. I judged a lucrative sale was headed his way. If so, we'd likely be invited to a bit of a knees up later on.

Phae paused in his reading, stroked my hair once, then turned the page. A card dropped out, bounced off my forehead and lodged itself in my cleavage. "Want me to get that for you?", enquired Phae, his voice taking on a deeper, even slightly menacing tone. "Ah, yes please.", I replied, my usual response to that tone from him.

The card was duly recovered.

"What's this?" he asked a moment later, his tone, rather disappointingly, returning to normal. "If you don't know an invitation when you hear one, you're getting old." I returned, not willing to dispense with the sauce quite so soon. He laughed out loud. "Saucy wench.." I was expecting a reply to that and when I recieved none, turned my head to look up at his face. I'd seen him with a grimmer expression, but not often. He duly passed the card down to me and after taking in the image on one side, I turned it over and read what was written there.

I daresay my expression was as grim as his.

"I recall you saying you wanted his head on a platter, the rest of him pickled in jars.", murmured Phae, determined to not look back.

"And I meant it, still do...", I whispered back. The topic at hand was a matter of some small contention between us. I wanted revenge and was willing to gamble to get it. Phae was simply happy things were on the up and up. He certainly did not want to go stirring up old ghosts.

"We can't both go.", he reminded me, his voice soft. Closing down the shop, both of us disappearing for goodness knows how long. We'd lose Celeste for good.

"If the judgement goes against us, we wrest her from the harpy and sail for Absalom.", I replied, signalling my resolve on the matter.

"We'd have to start over.", he countered, laying out a pitfall.

"We can do that.", I replied in turn, letting him hear my need for this.

There was quite the gap while Phae considered, hand stroking my head. The music played on. Curiously, Dorian all the way across the street had stopped grinning, somehow sensing the change in mood.

"Go then, but be careful... Gaedran's memory, and determination to tie up loose ends is every bit as determined as yours."

We spent that night as if it were our last night. I was walking into danger and we both knew it. Neither of us spoke about it.. not wanting to give voice to our fears, not wanting to jinx it.