Olive turned to point out the teal-haired goth that was her sibling, only for her finger to fall once she realized that wherever Blixa was, it sure wasn’t where she left him. A look of puzzlement came over her face. Did he realize she got up and went looking for her? Maybe but in these sort of situations, he usually called instead of wasting time roaming around.
“Um. Well. I guess Blixa probably got up for a sec but he’s goth? Blue haired? He’s the one with the yellow glasses.”
But no, Blixa could, in fact, zoom off at the speed of light in the right circumstances, and as it should happen, the right circumstances involved a burly Sicilian and finding a private enough spot for ten to fifteen minutes.
Cedar scanned Row E, and D and F just in case she’d gotten it wrong herself, but there was no blue haired anyone, goth or glasses or otherwise. Her brother had just ditched her? Or maybe he’d gone to look for her and had turned the wrong corner.
“Yeah, I don’t see him.” Cedar confirmed. “I mean. Prolly best to wait for him at your seat, unless you’re not feelin’ up to it. Better ya both don’t get lost.” That should probably be the end of it, barring a little escort to the seat itself. But Cedar itched to do more, and she told herself it wasn’t because Olive was so cute. “You, uh, feelin’ okay to do that?”
Elsewhere in the place, another brown-haired woman sat down next to the Mnemoset. Blixa would have probably realized it wasn’t Olive in other situations -he might be legally blind but he still had some time to go before losing the rest of his vision- but there were three major roadblocks in place: one, the light was throwing him off; two, he pre-gamed on rum and absolutely continued drinking; and last and most importantly, all of his attention was focused on the handsome Sicilian fighter in the ring (he wasn’t sure if they were serious but he did know that he had absolutely no intention on introducing him to his sister because the last thing anyone needed was word finding its way back to their father and Oberyn calling him sobbing in the middle of the night because he was seeing a fighter and while he genuinely loved his father and had empathy for the trauma vaporvolphs went through on Vampiru, Blixa Bagni just wanted to get laid in peace) whose touring schedule rarely matched up with his touring schedule.
The match ended. Blixa mumbled an excuse of needing to visit the restroom and he might be gone long but they’d leave after. The woman next to him understood absolutely nothing of this because she didn’t speak German. There was no way Olive would panic later because she couldn’t find Blixa or vice versa later.
Meanwhile, back to Olive.
“Yeah, I suppose not.”
Was she fiddling with her hair too much? She felt like she was fiddling with her hair too much. The thing is, she also didn’t know what to do with her hands when she wasn’t adjusting her hair or playing with a ring or otherwise messing around with an article of clothing. Olive didn’t know why she was so nervous -well, other than the fact that she was feeling the emotions of a hundred people at once in a place that she didn’t really want to be at- but nevertheless, here she was.
“Oh, oh no, thank you, I took a Fuber here. Thank you though!” she said. “Um. I have to make sure my brother gets back okay, I guess? He’s not really as familiar with the city as he thinks he is…”
Olive had concluded that Blixa (grown, adult, 30 year old man) did not really need his little sister chaperoning him but the fear that every single one of her family would fuck up and run into trouble if she didn’t look out for them won out almost every time. This was not really an unfounded fear considering Aphelion’s various arrests for completely stupid reasons and Blixa’s not-so-legal rebel misadventures and the twins’ natural swan aggression and the fact that her father was a man capable and willing to cause a scene in an ice cream shop.
Cedar let the young woman fret a bit, patiently hearing her out. All in all, this was not the worst encounter with a distressed and overwhelmed spectator she’d had. It was unfortunately common to find someone made ill or panicky by the violence on display to the point of making a true mess.
That could change quickly, of course. Especially after Cedar glanced up where the woman had been sitting before and couldn’t see the man she, assumed, was the brother she spoke about. Maybe she remembered wrong? “Ah...where were you sitting?”
Maybe she should just leave. What was she trying to prove? Blixa hadn’t invited her to come in the first place, hadn’t wanted her to be here, could manage well enough on his own…most of the time, anyway. Besides, her father always told her places like this were wretched and to stay far away from them, which is probably why her brothers liked catching fights so much.
(Most of the time left too much room for doubt. She just wanted everything to go smoothly and to have a nice visit where nothing bad happened at al for once in her life.)
Olive remained oblivious to any reptilian-looking men who might have checked her out but she startled out of her doubt at Cedar’s approach. Oh. Oh wow. Tall. Were those fangs? She looked so cool. Olive’s gaze might have lingered a second or two too long before she realized she was staring blankly like some kind of weirdo and she should probably say something.
“Great! I’m great. Thank you for asking, that’s really sweet,” she said a little too brightly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind one pointed ear out of nervous habit. “Um. Just taking a little walk. You know. For the sake of my legs.”
Olive was a real bad liar.
“Yeah...uh, not a lot of great places to walk ‘round here, sadly.” Cedar could tell Olive was uncomfortable, and was trying to be very careful about not being the source of it. While a cute young woman looking like a fish out of water wasn’t always who they appeared to be, Cedar would bet she was a vampire (and not some other pointy-eared, humanoid species), and also actually, truly out of her depth.
If she turned out the fool for it, so be it. This was still her job.
“You need to find the exit? Get walked to your car or anythin’?”
“You two were going where? A fight club? Where they beat each other up?” Olive asked, aghast. “Well, I guess he missed his flight, so no bloodsports tonight. Ew.”
This really shouldn’t be shocking given Aphelion’s always going on about MMA and UFC and a lot of other three letter acronyms and Blixa’s so into underground scenes that you might as well call him subterranean, but even still, watching people fight for real? Not play fights? Real fights? How so totally morbid!
“I make my plans not around the whims of the unreliable but the desires of mine own heart. Sorry, strawberry, I’m still going. It’s only a few hours I’ll be gone, never fear,” Blixa said as he polished off the last of the rum. “Some musicians find their inspiration in beautiful women and some in a bottle but mine comes from other places.”
Cool, her brother who has been pregaming -Blixa, who has half a dozen stories involving less-than-legal things regs might not like- is going to a shady and maybe illegal place on his own in a city he’s unfamiliar that’s absolutely crawling with regs and weird vampire politics that she didn’t understand. Olive freely admitted she was naive but even she could see the potential for this to turn out badly.
“Okay, well, I’ll just take Aphelion’s ticket or whatever and go with you,” Olive said as she tried to put on a brave face. “Don’t go places alone! You’ll get serial-murdered! That’s not allowed on my watch! We are using the buddy system here.”
Her brother put his glass down an ew, he poured his blood and rum into one of her good teacups, there’s no way that wouldn’t stain.
“Olive, I may be blind but I am not in need of a babysitter,” he said. “I’m not throwing myself into the ring. I am absorbing the atmosphere. I am basking in hidden worlds. I am rubbing my hands over every surface I can find to steal their secrets for my own. Stay at home and do something fun, won’t you? No blood for you, no bruises to see. We can watch Suspiria when I return from my little excursion.”
“It’s not about that. I’m not…Blixa, what if you lose your phone and you don’t know how to find the way back? What if you get drunk and you forget how to speak English again? What if someone has bad vibes? What if there’s a devil there and you accidentally sell your soul? I’m going with you. You’re just going to have to deal with that.”
“Please, my label owns that old thing. They’ll have to fight Death Records for my soul,” he replied. “No. You would abhor every minute of it. You do not need to come with me. I cannot emphasize enough there is fighting and blood and things you do not care to see.”
Anyway, long story short, Olive insisted on going with him despite all of Blixa’s repeated protests that she would hate it and should go home, and guess what: she hated every second of being here.
She tried to dress for the occasion in her toughest outfit -which mostly meant that she wore her one pair of black boots and a leather jacket so you couldn’t see the hearts embroidered on the front of her dress- but it was clear to anyone who gave her a single glance that this fish was so far out of water she might as well be in a desert. Wow, those guys really were beating the tar out of each other, weren’t they? She figured it was super illegal to fight to the death and it was probably like WWE or something, but even still, oh, oh no, wow, that looked painful, ouch. She felt like everyone was staring at her, even if they probably weren’t. More than that, she felt the emotion in the room like a wild rock concert: loud and overpowering and just so, so much. Everyone was excited or angry or hurting or wanting and everyone was as loud as the next.
She needed air. Actually, what she really needed was to go home but she didn’t quite want to admit that her brother was right, he neither wanted nor needed her there, and nothing terrible would happen if he watched the fights by himself. Olive did not think she was a prideful person but it was still embarrassing to admit that you were wrong. She slipped away when he was too busy soaking in the ambiance to pay attention. Should she go back to the bar area? But what if someone scary talked to her? Maybe she could just hide out in the bathrooms instead? What if they were gross? She was awash with indecision.
Olive did not like Fight Club or actual fight clubs, it turns out.
“Told ya.” One of Cedar’s cousins clapped her on the back as the pair of them watched the young woman exit the stands. “Good thing you didn’t take that bet.”
“Fuck off, Pine,” Cedar huffed, though it didn’t have any bite to it. He was still speaking to her despite his mother’s disapproval, after all. She was grateful for it.
The burly brux snorted. “Well? Ya gonna go over and check on her, or what? Before someone else does?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Cedar knew he was teasing, but he was also right. Cute young woman isolating herself at one of these events (or, to be distressingly honest, any event) while looking out of sorts was like a beacon for the worst kind of sleaze. She needed to make sure that didn’t happen to anyone just by virtue of being responsible for the establishment.
Cedar cut in front of a hunched, lizard-like man who missed his shot by idling too long among his friends as they elbowed and nudged him, warning the whole lot of them off with one inky-black eye. They scarpered, though she earned dirty looks in return. Would’ve been nice if they started something, she thought, because she felt too itchy in her own skin lately.
“Hey, miss, you okay?” Cedar asked, trying to keep both professional distance and attitude, trying somehow to switch from the imposing bouncer who sent a gaggle of ne’er-do-wells running to the kind that made sure a woman got walked to her car safely. It was nuanced, but Cedar had practice.
“No, it doesn’t get exceptions.” Tom’s throat tightened (knew that better than anyone), but he didn’t look away. His mind had gone to the same place. She’d already been sticking her neck out for him. Maybe too far, now… “They know you enough t’know you wouldn’t, though, I’d fuckin’ hope.
“But I don’t think you gotta worry much about that part, least. The bar. Y’know how many warnings I got over the years? Even Pep—she got one, for some shit or other. A warning’s… It’s an excuse to keep an eye on you, if they think you got a lead they want. They ain’t gonna waste their time ‘less you start really rackin’ ‘em up and catching their attention, though. So, as far as fuck ups go? Minor.”
It’s an excuse to keep an eye on you, if they think you got a lead they want.
Yeah, she had a fuckton, not that she was gonna speak them into the night air where anyone could overhear. The fight club, Lilius, the rebels in general, hell, even Skipper--all of it was connected to her. Which lead did they think they had on her, some meathead Brux?
“Sure, they know me. Know any of us could make a stupid fuckin’ mistake if we’re in the wrong kinda...fuck, To--Toby, you fuckin’ know it doesn’t matter how well ya know someone. Vampires do shit and there’ll always be doubt.” Cedar felt like a thorn in his side, finding it impossible to talk about this without rubbing his nose in what he did.
Tom had never been especially good at keeping his expressions flat, and so, he had already been scowling as Cedar talked. What’d someone even have if not their family at their back? Bullshit, she did it. Shouldn’t matter how much more seriously Brux took it than others. This wasn’t some quiet cousin, visiting the first time, or some brother who’d been off missing doing who the hell knew what. They knew her.
“Warnin’s mean a lotta things. But you’re not—” (Like me?) “—stupid or some shit. Don’t catch their eye much and you’ll be a’ight.” He slowly tapped a finger on the table. “Family’s worried about the bar?”
“No, I...I don’t think so.” Cedar wasn’t sure, though, and it was clear in her tone. “I don’t fuckin’ know. Ya know we fuck up Brux who step out an’ actually make fledglings. It’s messed up. An’...an’ it shouldn’t have exceptions, right?”
If they knew who Tom was and what he did, well, that’d be damning in itself that she convinced her family to let him work there. She wouldn’t bring that up, though. Felt too much like telling him to get out and get lost, or to be grateful. Would be a fucked up thing to say, considering he’d already paid for his little stunt once.
“...Maybe they lose the bar. Regs don’t look at us too close, but I fucked up.”
And she was gonna be more used to him, he might threaten, except for the way she cut herself off. Tom slouched forward and frowned.
“People treatin’ you weird? Or y'mean… you beatin’ yourself up?”
“Yeah. You know Brux--or, ‘least, my fam--we’re real fucked up ‘bout fledglings and feedin’. Everyone wants ta interrogate me.” Cedar felt the ghost of bile in her mouth from when her own mother had asked if she’d done it. If she’d fed on a human. She knew why, but it still felt like something was broken between them ever since.
“One o’ my aunts, she’s never liked me. She’s been chompin’ at the fuckin’ bit for a reason to get me kicked out.” Cedar ran her tongue over one of her long teeth, interrupting with a sudden tsk. Why was she suddenly dumping to Tom? Did she think he’d understand? He’d actually done the things he’d gotten in trouble for. “And everyone’s on eggshells since I’ve got a fuckin’ ‘warning’ so.”
Tom would argue that, from experience, a couple of questions could definitely be an interrogation, when said in certain tones. Fortunately, Cedar kept on, and Tom kept his mouth shut. No making problems worse today.
“You’re good. S’it the—” He lifted his chin and looked pointedly at her forehead. “—concussion, or somethin’ else?” His grin turned momentarily wide and charming—the trademark Tom smile, like that hadn’t gotten him into trouble enough, too. “Me bein’ an annoyin’ Caligo, maybe?”
Cedar’s pitch eyes narrowed at him, but in the end she let out a huff through her nose and a wave of the hand. “Whatever. I’m used to ya. Things’ve just been...”
Uncomfortable. Alienating.
“...I dunno. Fucked up, since I got back.” Since she’d left, really, but that felt like the more acceptable layer of the shit cake.
“Ain’t no on said I couldn’t be down here.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “Specially not when it’s empty.”
She wasn’t gonna eat? The fuck. A lot of how she’d been acting since her return, he’d been able to attribute to the concussion. If not that, then being in hiding and not talking to much of anyone for a while. But not that. Cedar wasn’t irresponsible like that.
Tom gave her the quickest of assessing glances, then slung both arms forward over the back of the chair. Cozy, relaxed, like he might fall asleep hanging half way off the chair—and not about to budge.
“What’s with the interrogation?”
“Couple-a questions ain’t an interrogation, fuck.” Cedar grumbled, brows pinched. She shut her eyes a moment, squeezing them together like it would provide clarity rather than just adding to her headache. She needed to get it under control. She wasn’t allowed a temper, not right now. “Whatever. Sorry, fuckin’--everythin’s gettin’ on my goddamn nerves tonight, alright?”
Until Cedar kicked out the chair, Tom stayed where he was. He still wasn’t clear on what’d happened, exactly—figured it wasn’t his damn business, until she volunteered it. It didn’t make him less concerned, though. If anything, more. Regs didn’t just… drop shit like that.
“Yeah, really sufferin’ seeing your pretty face more often ‘gain.” He winked and stepped forward, lazily spinning the chair around to sit backwards the same moment he slid into it. “Probably.”
Shocker—that just like the standard Caligo power set, control came easier with emotions less thoroughly bottled. Spooky shit worked the same way, and when Tom blinked over a pair of juiceboxes, he did so with just enough flair that the one he slid across the table still had a spark or two lingering when it hit Cedar’s side of it.
“Betting you haven’t thought t’eat since sittin’ down.”
Cedar felt her proverbial hackles go up at everything Tom did, but it wasn’t about him. She’d taken her break because she felt every little interaction pricking at her skin until she was ready to lash out. Her cousins hadn’t helped.
So, uncharacteristically, Cedar took a breath, let it out, and snagged the juicebox (maybe a little too aggressively). “I wasn’t gonna, but might as well, now.”
She had to get back to eating regular meals. This whole thing had fucked with her head.
“Birch know you’re down here?” An unfair question. Tom had been a model-ish employee, and that was all LumBar asked of anyone not family. He made his shifts, did his work, and didn’t cause problems. “Should ya be down here?”
He wouldn’t. Promised Vic he’d quit even the occasional cigarette (and hadn’t since—he kept his fucking promises, when he made them). Also, consider: it was cold out, and he didn’t feel like spending his break freezing to death.
Didn’t think he could sit still somewhere, either.
So. Downstairs he went. The ring was empty, for now, and a rare chance for him to check it out, he figured, if he didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him out of glamour (because fake scars or no—you knock someone to the ground and drop the ghost act, they remember that face)
Fuck, he missed this shit.
Despite how caught up in his thoughts he was, his steps led him around the rink, then back, down the hall, until he found himself in front of the break room. Not that he wanted to mope alone, but if he was gonna…
Tom stepped inside and startled, flickering to thin air and sparks for the briefest second as instinct kicked in.
“Oh, shit, Cee. Hey. Scared me halfway back t'death there.” The Caligo glanced around the dimly-lit break room. “… How’s the concussion treatin’ you?”
Cedar looked up from her phone at Tom Toby, reflexively flicking the device off. The look she gave him wasn’t warding him off, but rather wary, like she was expected to be cornered in a moment. He might have a few good reasons to.
“‘S alright. Not allowed to work the ring today, or another week, but dad says I should be good to go after that. ‘Til then, you an’ Birch gotta suffer through havin’ me upstairs.” After a moment, she kicked the chair opposite her out from under the table. “You hungry?”
[Note: though this takes place at Cedar’s new job at an industrial butcher shop, there is only passing mention of it. There is nothing explicit about harm to animals.]
Cedar smacked her back against the concrete wall outside of the industrial butcher shop, refusing to fully fold to the ground but deciding today was not the day for wall sits. Who needed an exercise routine on their break when processing several deer an hour was a full body workout?
The door next to her swung open as her cousin Chauncey strode out, cigarette already in his mouth. He held the pack out for her and, for just a moment, she reached for it. With a scowl, she twitched back.
“Aunt Fran know you’re smokin’ again?” She asked instead, mood sour.
“Yeah. She just pretends she doesn’t.” Chauncey shrugged and leaned against the wall with her. He was whip-thin and wiry, deceptively strong but always a little awkward in his glamour like he felt the loss of his tail and wings more than most. The Strigha, innately aware of how the wind was blowing, lit up and let the smoke trail away from the two vampires.
“She’s busy with those Brakmis meetings, anyway.” Cedar’s cousin continued the conversation idly, with an edge to his voice like he was waiting to launch into some kind of complaint. Cedar had fewer issues with her aunt’s community than her cousin did, but she figured it was only polite to indulge him.
“Yeah, they do seem to take up a lot of her time.” An innocuous, vague thing for Cedar to say, the cheater’s way out, but it was enough of a springboard that Chauncey immediately launched into his usual vent.
“I still can’t believe she got rid of everything in the house. Like, you’ve seen the pantry. We’ve just got a bag of pasta and a couple cans of sauce in case we gotta seem normal for humans sometimes. Now it’s all just vinegar and gelatin and other shit for preserving blood.” He took a long drag and then a longer exhale, giving Cedar a chance to chime in with a meaningful look.
“You’ve got alcohol, too.”
“Yeah, shit, true. ‘Least there’s that.” Chauncey wasn’t ill-tempered by nature and knew he was being a bit of an ass about it. His mother had felt the loss of Cedar’s uncle rather hard, and needed somewhere to belong without other Strigha around. The Brakmis group was harmless, even if it was pushing into her son’s preferred lifestyle. But bitching about inconveniences seemed to be the best way for the vampire to blow off steam in the middle of a work day.
Instead of continuing that track, though, Chauncey threw her a curveball. “You, uh, think you’ll go home Thursday?”
The question hit Cedar uncomfortably hard. Aunt Fran wouldn’t be doing Thanksgiving, but it was something the Woods family engaged in, both to be ‘normal’ and because, well, it gave everyone a break from work and got them all together. Chauncey and Fran were invited, but there was some fallout that Cedar never quite understood from when she was a child that kept things tense between the two families.
Not so tense they hadn’t taken Cedar in right away, though.
“I don’t think I should,” she mumbled, one hand going into her hair. “I mean. Fuck. If they’re lookin’ for me, then that’s a great time to bust in, right?”
“I mean. If they’re looking for you, they’re not looking that hard. They haven’t bothered to check here.” Chauncey said, taking another drag. “Means that human lived, right?”
“Yeah. Still...fuck, I don’t know.” Cedar’s leg bounced, and then she pushed off the wall. “I hate the waiting. The not knowing. I’d fucking turn myself in if I didn’t think that vaporvolph would come back around and hurt someone else.”
“You said your family knows him. Wouldn’t he have gone after them by now if he was going to?” Chauncey was trying to cheer her up as he watched her pace. But pointing out the obvious just made Cedar feel more conflicted, more confused. It would be better to know, for something to happen. Hell, Satō hadn’t even tried to threaten her since! What the hell! Radio silence.
“Look, if I knew what I should do, I wouldn’t still be here.” Cedar snapped. Her cousin recoiled, annoyance written across his face.
“Hey, I mean. It’s nice of you to visit.” Maybe it wasn’t annoyance. She’d hurt his feelings.
“Ah, shit, Chaunce. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
“Yeah, I know.” He pushed his cigarette into the ash tray, grinding it down long enough to regain his patience. “Look...I’ll try to get mom to relent about shit for tomorrow. I know you’re avoiding humans ‘cause you’re worried about,” he waved his hand for emphasis rather than say it out loud, “and Thanksgiving’s some kinda bullshit at the best of times, but I can get some friends and we can, I dunno, get drunk by the lakeside, right?”
Cedar worked her jaw, then sighed. “That sounds good, Chaunce.”
It didn’t, actually. It wasn’t her friends, or her space. But it was a little bit of family, and with a couple calls home things could be good enough to manage a little longer.
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