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@briarbramblerose
At least I have the flowers of myself, and my thoughts, no god can take that; I have the fervour of myself for a presence and my own spirit for light; and my spirit with its loss knows this; though small against the black, small against the formless rocks, hell must break before I am lost; before I am lost, hell must open like a red rose for the dead to pass.
Excerpt from "Eurydice" by Hilda Doolittle
He was in a good mood. Normally, he wouldnât be this nice to Briar. The artist smiled at the compliment, but everyone who knew anything about him knew that he preferred the background. Evan was as normal as a person could be. He didnât like the spotlight. Only unless it was a one on one situation and he was forced to be the center of attention. Of course, even then he wasnât someone who needed the spotlight. He wasnât like Briar, or anyone who he knew in that aspect. Being in the background was comfortable.Â
âNo worries. You didnât miss much,â he explained. Besides, he hadnât even been paying attention to the crowd. Heâd been focused more on his music than anything else. Evan tilted his head to the side and smiled lightly. âI hope it wasnât anything too important.â Evan commented with a raised eyebrow. Not that he expected her to tell him anything.
See heâd learned by now not to question anything that Briar did. He didnât want to know. He didnât want to find out. What she did in her own personal time was her business. When they were together, he wanted to focus on their relationshipâ whatever that even was anymore. Evan had no idea.Â
âRecent news?â he asked. âI have not.âÂ
Briar put an arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. Evan's clothes were damp with sweat from his performance, but Briar hardly noticed. His closeness alleviated the worst of her unease. She hesitated to tell him anything about the nightâs events. Evan was in high spirits. She didn't want to let this moment slip through her fingers. It was rare that she saw her bondmate so contented, and rarer still that he looked at her so softly and without ire.
"The Reaper has Laney," she murmured. "He's threatening to kill her and the Clave is in an uproar. He revealed it in a very public and graphic way. There was a video." It was bad news for the London Coven and bad news for the Blue Bloods as a whole, but Briar had no hand in it. There was nothing she could do to aid the search; Azraelâs fate had been left in the hands of the Clave. Michael and Zadkiel would attend to it. The Clave would find her in time, or they wouldnât.
"Azrael isn't my concern, but you are." She lifted her head to look directly up at him. âThe Reaperâs been sighted at the festival. I wanted to make sure you were alright.â A half-truth. Calixte decided not to tell him about the bargain sheâd been offered - not yet.Â
Harper had only seen a few seconds of the trailer that had made the hustle and bustle of the already busy festival increase a bit; she didnât mind the crowds, she didnât mind having to watch her wallet every time someone bumped into her â some people did take this as an opportunity to steal some money and whoever thought the contrary was fooling themselves. It wasnât like it wasnât strange to be seeing a movie trailer in this festival. Â
She couldnât deny that there was something familiar about the girl in the screen â she could either be actually famous or, another possibility (among many), was that she was actually a Blue Blood that Harper has seen a few times and thatâs why she seemed so familiar. She didnât care to follow their lives, let alone what they did this cycle in terms of jobs. Good for her that a new movie was coming out, right?
It wasnât unusual for Harper to check the couple of social networks she had affiliated with â Instagram and Twitter were both blowing up, clearly people she followed had also watched the trailer and the hashtag it had provided had new posts every two seconds. It was easy publicity, one that really didnât make whoever was in charge of it waste that much money â the people that did what the end of the trailer had told them to do were only helping.Â
Harper put her cellphone back in her purse after paying for her churro and finally taking a bite after waiting about ten minutes just to pay for a piece of dough and finish it in about half the time she spent standing there on her own, looking at her cellphone and replying to the few texts she had gotten of people asking her if she had seen the trailer. What was so special about it?Â
She walked towards a less crowded area to avoid any accidents. As she was walking down a less busier path, looking forward as she took one more bite of the churro and chewed through the magnificent flavour (though obviously overpriced); as luck would have it, not even with enough room to walk around her, someone bumped into her â and alas, caused her to let her churro fall.Â
There was no salvaging that.Â
âAre you kidding me?â she muttered under her breath as she looked at the churro for a few more seconds before she breathed in to calm herself down (if she hadnât done that and waited a few seconds, whoever had bumped into her would be punched in the face) and looked at the person that had bumped into her. âYou owe me ten minutes of my life and three pounds.â
"Pardon her," Briar said, smiling apologetically at the man whom Harper was harassing. She stepped casually between Harper and her victim, waving him off. She'd seen the entire exchange from across the grassy lawn. The young man was red-faced and clearly distressed, but Briar hadn't interceded for his sake.
Briar had been scouring the park, looking for Ivory. She didnât want to approach Harper at all, but she was feeling desperate and manic. Briar thought that if she could impress upon Harper the gravity of the situation, then maybe Harper would be willing to help - not for her sake, but for Ivoryâs.Â
She dug into her purse and passed a ÂŁ10 note to Harper to placate her.
"Take it and don't bitch about it," Briar said. "Have you seen Ivory? Itâs important that I find her - she might be in danger."Â
We Owe to Each Other a Terrible and Tragic Loyalty | Briar & Roan
His pace was brisk, and he opted to walk in a wide arc around the masses of people lest he be stopped by a blue blood who wanted to know where he was going, in such a rush, with such a temper. Michael had always been stoic by nature, it helped ensure that his people knew that he knew what he was doing, that he wasnât to break under any pressure. But the Reaper⌠he had not approached anyone without leaving mass destruction in his wake. He hadnât just applied pressure, but heâd pushed all of Roanâs buttons simultaneously without providing any knowledge about himself. Roan could have shaken his hand at a gala, or shared a smile with him tonight even, and be the only one in the party not in on the joke.
Honestly, Roan part expected to make it to the gate and find Briar dead.Â
Or at least standing with someone who Michael both wanted to see dearly, and wanted to banish from his thoughts forever. Unlike Ellie, who had parted with him not long ago after he assured her he would just be ensuring everyone were alright and that she should continue to enjoy the night. But after the phone call from Briar, he was starting to wish heâd wrapped his arms around Gabrielle and not let her out of his sight.Â
âBriar ââ Roan called out, his voice as melodic and calming as he could manage. This was what he did, it was part of who he became every cycle: the calm, stoic leader of the people. Caring so much but too proud to show it. He quickened his pace to meet her, a thousand questions to ask on the tip of his tongue though his brain stopped him from blurting them out in a heavy demand. âI â okay⌠go. Start at the beginning.â
The people gathered near them dispersed as Roan approached her, calling out from across the square.
âDid you run here?â Briar asked, taking in Roanâs somewhat harried appearance. It was almost comical. Under different circumstances, Briar would've laughed. âIâm sorry, I thought this was a conversation best had face-to-face. Walk with me, Michael, I canât stand to sit still.â She had an excess of nervous energy; she needed to move because sitting still made her feel like easy prey.
"Iâm alright, as you can see. Thereâs not much to tell. The Reaper sought me out," Briar said. "It was no chance encounter, Iâm certain of that. He said he knew me, and he offered me a bargain. In exchange for my help, he said he would free Lucifer. I told him to fuck off.â She spoke confidently, as if the choice had been an easy one. Calixte didnât want to show Michael her uncertainty, didnât want him to know how sheâd been tempted.
âIâm not sure why he allowed me to live - if heâll try to sway me again or if my refusal simply took him by surprise.â Briar reflected that he probably hadnât expected her to turn him down. She had forsaken everything for Lucifer: her home, her honor, her bondmate. Regardless, it didnât make sense to let a known enemy walk away unharmed. It was bad strategy, and the Reaper didnât seem like the type to be careless - or merciful.
âHe canât bring Lucifer back...can he?â Briar watched her Regis carefully to see how he would react, but Roan was a politician and he was as good at concealing his true emotions as she was.
We turned ourselves to stone, do you hear me? We turned to stone and we reveled in it. My hands starving for that statuesque perfection, Iâd never touched anything so smooth and sharp. So we were writing love notes that read like Will and TestamentsâTAKE ME IN YOUR MOUTH AND NEVER LET ME OUT. I WANT THE ACHE OF YOUR HANDS UNZIPPING MY SPINE. I WANT TO BE THE LAST BODY YOUR BODY GETS LOST IN. I COULD DIE INSIDE YOUâ But I would rather sucker my mouth to the crook of your neck and pull all the poison out. Iâll [be] the Montague to your Capulet; Iâll fall to pieces for this infant of a thing we pretended to call love. But this was never romance; it was romancing our own destruction. It was me, in so deep my feet couldnât touch bottom. It was you, knocking teeth with the skeletons in my closet. So I went crawling through the mud and your mouth came out to meet meâ dirty hands for dirty kissing. Dirty hearts. Dirty knees. We did it to ourselves, remember? Like weâd be better statues, like we could make art out of that kind of violence. But the mural you paint in blood is still blood. We thought if we stood still enough, weâd forget all the wicked we had done.
MUSEUM PIECE, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
Evan was not thinking as he played his music. He liked having a fresh mind, the ability to not think about anything when he was playing. Of course he needed to concentrate too. He was not looking out in the crowd, or else heâd see Briar and his concentration might break. His set list was short. Since he dabbled only in classical music. Evan ended his set and then packed his cello into its case, before coming off the stage.Â
He had expected Briar to show up at the set. Mainly because heâd texted her earlier where he was going to be. With a grin on his face he took the beer from her. Evan felt the rush he normally did when he played a set.Â
âThanks,â he told her with a smile. âI donât miss the stage at all,â he admitted. âI love painting more.â
She wasn't surprised in the least. Unlike herself, Evan felt an impulse to create but not to perform. "No," Briar laughed, "I know you don't. But you were exceptional." It didn't matter which medium Cassius used, he was an artistic genius, and he excelled in everything.
"I'm sorry I was late." Briar leaned up and kissed his cheek affectionately. Evan probably hadn't noticed her absence. "I got held up," she murmured. Briar was thankful he was just walking off the stage. It meant that he was probably too distracted to notice that she was a little off kilter.Â
Briar still hadnât decided what she wanted to tell him about the eveningâs events. She felt guilty for the surge of hope and longing sheâd felt when the Reaper had offered her his bargain. Calixte was fond of Cassius, in spite of everything she had done and said to the contrary. It wasnât as if she felt nothing for her bondmate; sheâd spent thousands of years trying and failing to reconcile with him.Â
âYou heard about Azrael?â
Briar had managed to catch the tail end of Evanâs last set. As he began his closing routine, thanking the people for having him, and plucking the opening chords of his final song, Briar slipped through the crowd and made her way backstage. She flashed a charming smile at the bouncer and he gave her no trouble.Â
When Evan came off stage, she was waiting for him with a bright smile and a cold beer sheâd swiped off of the complimentary refreshments table. She was so relieved to see that Evan was unharmed that she didnât care whether or not heâd want to see her.
âThat was an excellent show,â she praised him in lieu of a greeting. âAre you sure you donât miss the stage?â
Gabrielle had to admit, the reaper was far more intelligent than they gave him credit for. He seemed to know everything before it had begun, their weaknesses, how they would react - where they would be hit hardest. Taking AzrealâŚit was risky as Calixte rightly pointed out. They would move heaven and hell to find her - she was too precious to lose. To her, they were all precious. But othersâŚothers would not share the same point of view. Gabrielle doubted people would be quite so keen to launch a rescue mission if the woman before her had been stolen. Grudges ran deep within the community, even those five thousand years old. âWeâre strong when weâre together.â She remarked, more to herself than anyone else.Â
Gabrielle wondered if the reaper saw them all on a chessboard - each one a player he needed to assemble and move into place. What was her role? Clearly, Calixte had been marked down as the traitor. A snake in their midst. One to report, spy, to turn to darkness. Her refusal reminded Gabrielle of the very reason she had torn off her wings and fallen to earth - to save her species. To help them lead a better existence, to choose the path of the light and one that would eventually lead to salvation, rather than eternal damnation. Calixte had played with the fire thousands of years ago, perhaps she recognised its danger. Either way, her honesty and her choice touched Gabrielle in a way Calixte would never fully realise the extent of. It proved Gabrielle had been right. All those cycles ago, while people whispered she should be cast out or had her blood burnt, she had refused. Her faith was well founded.
âIâm not sure if I want to know whatâs coming next.â She admitted, even if that option had been available to her. What could be worse than the innocent slaughter of blood - both blue and red - and the kidnap of one of the highest ranking members of their community? She dare not even consider the possibilities. Glancing over the sweeping blonde to ensure that Briar was fine and was not concealing any hidden injury, she concluded that she was telling the truth. âI donât think he wants to kill you. He would have done it then. He doesnât need publicity - not after what he did today.â That was as far as she could conclude, anyway. âWe wouldnât let him, anyway.â
Briar smiled with a casual, confident mien that was entirely put-on. It was easy and effortless. âOne can only hope,â Briar said. She was charmed by the sentiment, though she didnât believe it for a second. It wasnât that she thought Eleanor was lying to her; Briar didnât doubt the depth of her sincerity. But Gabrielle, though well-loved and highly respected, wasnât the Covenâs ultimate authority, and Calixte had no reason to believe the Clave would endanger their own for her sake. It was a simple cost-benefit analysis, and Calixte wouldnât fault them for it.
Calixte kept these thoughts to herself. She wouldnât openly contradict  Gabrielle, who wanted to believe the best of everyone. It wasnât likely they would come to an agreement.
âDonât worry about me,â she said, lightly touching Ellieâs hand. Gabrielle had more important things to occupy her time. âI have no fear of him,â she continued boldly, ânor of death.â Calixte held the same darkness within her now as she had at the dawning of time, but she had learned to use it rather than be used up by it. She was not valiant, perhaps, but dauntless, unflinching. âCome what may. Iâve made my vows; I intend to keep them.â This time, she added silently. Â Words were worth little - and her words were worth nothing to those who knew her - but Calixte hoped sheâd left Gabrielle with a favorable impression.
Briar stood and smoothed the skirt of her dress. âNow, if youâll excuse me, I need to go track down Evan. I hate to leave you like this, but I canât get him on the phone.â Despite her outward implacable calm, Briar had been badly shaken. She wouldnât be able to relax until she saw that her bondmate was unharmed.
The words that she had chosen to reassure Briar only served to confused - Ellie could see that now. Which made her wonder, what had she been referring too? âLaney.â Ellie answered, exhaling with a sigh and the hopelessness of the situation. âThe reaper sent us a rather graphical image.â She still felt sick inside thinking about it. â Heâs been torturing Laney. And heâs given us two days to find herâŚor, well, I donât really want to think about what will happen once those two days are other.â She could imagine the end result: death. And that was simply a fate that the blue blood community, the clave and she would never accept. Laney deserved to live. âPeople are out scouring the city now.â She just hoped they wouldnât reach her too late. Too many people would be hurt by this, she was such a central part of their community.
Ellieâs lips had been filled with questions of what had happened to her, until the blonde answered the unsaid question. From the moment she used her divine name instead of the one she went by in everyday life, Ellie knew the situation was dangerous. Sitting up straighter, she turned her body towards Briar, giving her full undivided attention - something, judging by her words, she deserved. But the words that came from her mouth, the tale she told, was not one she expected. âHelp with what?â Ellie was caught between dying to know and wishing to distance herself from what ever atrocity the reaper wished to commit. But what could he possibly need Calixteâs help with? And how hard had it been for the lawyer to say no?
Gabrielle could still recall the early days upon earth, when the angels had scattered, some massing with Lucifer and others choosing the path of the light, to carve out a new society in a barren land. Calixte had not been one of them. Luciferâs greatest supporter, Gabrielle had been shocked when she turned up on their doorstep, pledging her allegiance and swearing her loyalty lay with them. For Gabrielle, forgiveness had never been a choice - it was simply the only option, one she gave willingly, trusting Michael to be the caution out of the pair. But no one needed to have worried. Calixte had been true to every word she had spoken that day - never given reason to doubt her loyalty, even if she had become a perfect stranger to many over the years. âHe didnât hurt you did he?â
"How awful. Poor Azrael," Calixte murmured. She'd never found Laney pleasant or agreeable - Azrael treated her with open antagonism and Calixte returned it in kind - but Briar understood her importance to the Clave. Abaddon and Azrael were the darlings of the Blue Bloods. They were dark counterpoints to Michael and Gabrielle. Not Uncorrupted, not untarnished: the vampyres looked to the pair and saw theirselves. There was nothing docile or meek about the twin Angels of the Apocalypse, and this attack struck at the both of them.
It was a message: I am become Death; I have no equal among you. Look what I have done to even the most formidable of you.
The meaning was clear. Nothing and no one was beyond the Reaper's grasp.
"Taking her was a gambit. He'll unite the whole Coven against him," Briar remarked. Of course, she reflected, that could be his game - to use the search for Laney as a misdirection, keeping the Blue Bloods occupied while he arranged pieces on the board. It was what Calixte would've done in his place. "Whatever he's planning, he wasn't forthcoming with me. I don't know what he wanted - a pair of eyes inside the Coven, I expect," she said. And if he couldn't get it from her, it was possible he would approach someone else.
"I walked away, and he didn't try to stop me. He didnât so much as lay a hand on me. Maybe he wanted me to sound the alarm, or he's saving my death for some public spectacle." Briar didnât know why heâd allowed her to walk away unscathed.Â
Maybe she just wasnât worth the effort.Â
And on the pedestal, these words appear: âMy name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!â Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.
The trailer was still the topic of discussion for the vast majority of red bloods who spilled in and out of the festival, remarking on what a creative film maker the writer must be. Some tried to guess his identity. If only they knew the truth - then they would run. Run far enough away where the reaper couldnât touch them - but was that even an option? Certainly not for species. Blue bloods were never scared into submission, even by the reaper itself. Even when perhaps it was the best course of action to take. But who said the suffering would ever end? Surely not until this beast was defeated. And there was not to even be talk of giving in until Laney was recovered. Not quite dead - but hovering on that line, Ellie could only hope Roan and the rest of the clave discovered her before it was too late. But London was a city growing larger by each day - and she could be anywhere. No. The reaper had probably placed her some place to spite the clave - perhaps a place they considered sacred, or thought safe, or even a space Lincoln and Laney had once shared. Find her, she prayed.Â
As she reached the edge, the crowds began to filer out, humans drawn to where the action was happening, where the stalls and bars were the thickest. Perhaps they thought there was safety in numbers. Yet, as far as they were concerned, this event had gone off without a hitch. They knew nothing of the truth. Such blissful innocence was so hard to capture in this damned world. Ellie hated them for it. She was jealous of them for it, part of her wishing she could be in their shoes. Wasnât the world so simple when you thought humans were the only species occupying it. But a simple life was not one she was ever fated to lead. No - she had been brought into the world time and time again in order to change it, to improve it, to carry out her creatorâs work where he was absent. She was a messenger, but a messenger to whom? That was the underlying question.Â
Spotting a distinctive blonde sat in isolation, Ellie couldnât help but make her way towards her. Perhaps it would have been wiser to leave the event, to go home where she knew she was safer, but something impulsive kept her here. She wanted to be close to her people, even to the people that were not hers, in case tragedy might strike again. Surely the reaper wouldnât let them leave until death had ensued? That was his purpose, his ultimate motive. Blood would spill. Sitting down beside Briar, Ellie couldnât help but smile sympathetically, assuming she was talking about Laney. âDonât worry, weâll find her.â She promised, even if it was not one she knew whether she could keep. âEverything will be okay.â If she kept repeating those words, would she begin to believe them?
Briar looked up and blinked, startled out of her thoughts by Gabrielleâs approach. âOh, Ellie. Hello.â She smiled politely, though it began to slip into a frown as Briar processed what sheâd heard. She noted Ellieâs solemn and consolatory tone; it was rare that others treated her with concern or offered her comfort - and rarer still that Briar was willing to accept it. âIâm sorry?â she said hesitantly, almost afraid to ask for further clarification. âIâm not sure what you mean. Find whom? Has something else happened?â Briar asked, though she knew without question that it had.Â
Briarâs first thought was of Ivory. Would she be targeted because Briar had spurned the Reaperâs offer? Would he target Evan? Briar wasnât prepared to leave it up to chance. The Reaper would not slip quietly into the night and give the Blue Bloods a reprieve. He was sure to be lurking in the shadows, observing his would-be victims and biding his time until he decided to act. No amount of bloodshed nor suffering would placate him; the Reaper would continue to kill until he was stopped.
âGabrielle, the Reaper found me,â Calixte said plainly. She was known as a deceiver and seducer of men. As Briar Devereux, attorney-at-law, she traded on her ability to lie and manipulate, and she had gained a reputation as one of the most successful lawyers in London. Her kin mistrusted her for good reason, and they seldom took her at her word. But Calixte wanted there to be no doubt she spoke the truth now. âHe appealed to me for help. I donât think he expected me to say no.â In truth, Calixte had surprised even herself in her refusal. But once the question had been posed, she had made the only decision she could live with. âHis sales pitch was rather lacking," she added dryly.
âThe die is cast,â Calixte said. âWe find ourselves at cross-purposes. I am no friend to you.â
The Spring Awakening Festival at Hyde Park was an annual tradition. The outdoor carnival reminded Briar of the Feast of Fools and other medieval celebrations, feast Days that were sanctioned by the Crown to keep the the throng placated and to provide a reprieve to the otherwise miserable and difficult lives of the common laborers. It was a form of crowd control to keep the people from revolting.
The Spring Awakening Festival was, in essence, a May Day celebration, repackaged and divorced from its pagan roots for the Brave New secular world. The spirit of the festival was to hail the dawning of a new season. It was a time for merriment and it represented an opportunity to mingle with the masses at an event the Coven was not responsible for overseeing. Many Blue Bloods were sure to be in attendance, and that was cause for concern.
Briar was surprised the festival hadnât been canceled outright given recent events, but she supposed it fulfilled the same function as the festivals of old. The city officials needed to appease the citizens of London and to give the people something to soothe the panic.
Humans had such short memory for these things; little time had passed since the attacks that had gripped the city. In spite of the heightened security presence, Briar knew there would be little the police could do if the Reaper decided to stage another attack.
Briar was still shaken from her encounter with the Reaper. She had regained her composure, though not her enthuisiasm for the festival. Ivory was here somewhere and so was Evan, and probably two dozen other Blue Bloods Briar could name off the top of her head. She'd already informed Roan of the possible danger, but she'd chosen not to leave. If something were to happen, perhaps she would be there to help.
She seated herself on a bench in the rose garden and watched Red Bloods flit by her, laughing together and enjoying all the festival had to offer. "This wasn't the kind of night I was hoping for," Briar muttered to herself.
We Owe to Each Other a Terrible and Tragic Loyalty | Briar & Roan
Still reeling with shock from her encounter with the Reaper, Briar dialed a number sheâd never had reason to use. Her hand shook as she raised the phone to her ear, as she fought to remain calm.
She let out a string of curses as the call cut to voicemail:
âHi, you've reached Roan Meritt. Iâm currently unable to take your call. Â Please leave your name, phone number, and a brief message, and I will contact you as soon as possible. Thanks.â
"Roan? It's Briar Devereux. I need to speak with you - it's urgent. You know I wouldnât call if it werenât." If he couldnât trust her, he could trust in her pride. She strove to maintain a careful distance between herself and Michael.Â
Briar closed her eyes and took in a deep, shuddering breath. Now is not the time, she told herself. Youâre pathetic; get a fucking grip or youâll be of no use to anyone. This fear was not productive, so she couldnât yield to it. Calixte had learned to stamp out all weakness; she would not allow it to take root within her so she steeled herself and pressed onward. "I know you're preoccupied,â she said, her voice again balanced and self-possessed, âbut the Reaper approached me two blocks from Hyde Park, not half an hour ago. Iâm by the Apsley Gate. Come meet me if you can."