Morally Grey At Best

Giles Lebeau. Mutant, thief and poker extraordinaire. They call me Abbadon.Probably because anything I touch... gets destroyed.

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Fishing? || Tom & Giles

Giles stood at the edge of the park, looking down at the path that would take them to the lake Blaine had chosen for them to go fishing at. He rolled his eyes and rubbed his arms, trying to keep the shivers at bay.

It was early. Too early. And cold. Too cold.  And Tom was running late. As always.

“I should have waited 30 minutes…” He muttered to himself as the coffee canister hovered next time him. He reached out and grasped it, unclasping the cap and taking a drought. He felt its warmth try to radiate through him, but the cold kept it contained to just his stomach. He rolled his eyes again and begrudgingly nudged the fishing pole sitting on the ground next to him with the toe of his boot.

He’d had to buy one… He hadn’t even so much as even thought of fishing since before he had left Louisiana. The thought of it made him yearn for the mild winter they were inevitably experiencing compared to the one he was enduring here in upper New York. At least there was no snow… yet.

Finally he sat down, tired of standing. He checked his phone, just in case. Nothing.

He poked his hands into his jacket pockets and brought his knees as close to his chest as he could comfortably manage. The ground’s utter chill made his butt numb, but he had passed the point of caring. He thought of trying to reach out with his mind and check up on Tom and his where-abouts, but he stopped himself. Giles had been keeping his mind in his own head, lately.

It was hard to do, since it was his nature. But, the delving-into of other’s headspace had caused him more trouble than he cared to admit. Most recently, it had cost him yet another relationship. The doctor had shooed him out of his apartment after Giles had been caught in the act of trying to take off the protective necklace that he himself had fashioned, nonetheless, that would assure Giles kept himself out of the other man’s mind.

Giles leaned forward and rested his head against a knee, allowing himself a moment to wallow. In times past he wouldn’t think twice about changing a person’s memory… All he had wanted to do was take Thomas’ horrible memories away from him, to give him peace of mind, as it were. But the doctor was right… it was memories that shaped a person into who they were… taking those memories would have caused a shift in the man that would have made him someone else entirely.

He grit his teeth together in the anxiety it caused him. He then thought of Blaine and how he had once changed his memory… removing all traces of their romantic interactions up to and just after his death and rebirth… It was another incident in which he thought he was doing something good for the other person…

He sighed, not knowing in the least why the man had given him a second chance. Maybe he had altered his own memories and didn’t know where they were in time with each other.

“Bleh,” he said to himself as he looked up, wanting all the nagging emotions to just leave him alone.  He wondered for a moment what it would be like to not have a conscience equipped - to just do as he pleased with no consequence.

It was an alluring thought, and one he would have endeavored just a few years ago. Much had changed since those days, and so had he… hadn’t he?

He pushed the thoughts away and rubbed his hands together, getting colder by the minute.

His eyes widened as he remembered a trick Hallie had shown him with her telekinesis. He closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to speed up the activity of the air molecules around him to increase the proximate temperature.

ZZZZT

Giles blinked rapidly as he reached up and touched at the mane of his hair that was now standing on end, as all he had accomplished was to cause a humongous jolt of static electricity.

In the next instance he heard a familiar chuckle from behind him.

“Great,” he groaned as he stood, coolly trying to smooth down the mess that was now his hair.

“How long have you been standing there, Jones?” Giles accused at the man, but smiled despite himself, finding he was happy to see him and more than grateful for a second chance to reignite the passion that lay between them. It was time to make up for what he had done to Tom… for the misery and madness he had caused between them.

A new, yet familiar thought echoed out of the dark places of his mind.

you’re not good enough for him… he’s too light, and you’re too dark

Giles wanted to hug him, but stopped himself. This was the beginning of where ever it was they were heading. The old rules were no longer in place, and new ones had to be made. Bridges had to be built in place of the burned ones.

“I’m glad I can rely on you to be fashionably late, at the least.” He shot back in reply to the man’s snarkyness. He hovered his hand over his fishing pole and it floated up to his grasp.

[marcelkingofthequarter]

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The Great North || Hallie & Giles

[halliemcleod]

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Giles’ eyes widened. His fearless, brave and strong fried... was afraid? He mentally cut the heat down on the gumbo and left it to simmer as he came fully out of the kitchen and into the space she was occupying.

Giles sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa she had perched on and sat caddy-corner on it. He looked up at the ceiling and then over to her. “That’s not good, cher...” 

He winced slightly, hearing Gambit in his drawl. Curse the man.

“Maybe we can talk to Xavier...” He blinked, thinking. Maybe... Maybe his mother? He hadn’t seen her since he had been infused with the Phoenix Force. “He’s the most powerful mind on the face of the Earth.”

“Maybe... Maybe I could try something? Maybe it,” he wouldn’t give it a pronoun... the entity living in Hallie’s mind was something much more than male or female, “doesn’t want me poking around in there because it’s afraid I could actually do something to...” He didn’t want to say hurt... he didn’t know if that was possible... “harbor it?” 

His telepathy was his first power he had come into... he knew how to control it best and was a formidable telepathic adept. Certainly there was something he could do to help.

“It sounds like you’re being noble, Red.” He finally conceded his thoughts. “You’re going somewhere where if shit goes down there won’t be a body count...” He shook his head at her and placed a tentative hand on her knee. “You don’t have to run.” He patted her knee. “You have people that want to help you, you know. At least one, anyway.” He retracted his hand and stood. Talking about feelings and foreboding entities was out of character for them. It was strange and he felt odd. He wasn’t good at expressing his love for anyone, even friends.

[wcnderingminstrcl]

Shades of Gray || Elian & Giles

@explodingcardsandfeels

The sound of soft strumming echoed in the small bar, despite Elian only playing in the corner without any kind of amplification. Humming to himself with a small smile, he continued playing absently, almost as if oblivious to the jerky motions of the people around him as they danced wildly. His smile grew at the few whimpers some of them let out when their bodies refused to listen to their minds, unable to stop themselves from dancing. He laughed quietly to himself as their fear only increased, Elian practically able to smell it even though he could sense it straight from their minds.

After a while, the song slowed to a gentle halt, everybody coming to a stilted stop as they waited motionless like puppets on a string. Elian debated what he should do with them next, as he was slightly bored with just making them dance. But then again, he did so enjoy messing with them until he could sense their fear. His fingers plucked out the tune to a waltz while he considered, the tempo speeding up all the while.

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What was this sorcery? The music snaked around his ankles and swept them around, spinning him on the bar stool he had been perched on for the past hour or so... The music hummed and bit into his muscles and pulled on them as if the beat were attached to hooks that tugged him into motion. His eyes darted two and fro, watching as a band of people moved around him to the beat of the sleek strumming strings. Empathically he could feel the dancing crowd’s anxiety and shock at what was happening.

His breath quickened as his heart sped up... 

This was what it felt like to do something against his own will... The same thing he could do to other people. The only difference is that when he made people do things they hadn’t wanted to... he made them think that they wanted to do it... at least in most cases.

The music abruptly stopped and he felt the tetany in his muscles as they stilled, waiting for the next command. A new melody started, deep and slow. Giles’ hand swept out and to his left where a stranger grasped it. He looked over and saw a dark haired woman staring wide-eyed at him as he pulled her over and the entangled in a seductive waltz. All around him couples paired off and they spun around each other as if they were in a medieval ball.

He couldn’t speak... but he could still use his mind. He reached out to his partner and touched her mind.

<Who are you?> He asked in her mind. <Are you doing this to me?!>

<No!! What... what the fuck??!!> She practically screamed in his head in response. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and stark fear.

<Don’t be scared.> He tried to soothe her. The music began to speed up and their waltz began to morph into a jig of sorts. He reached out further with his mind to the whole group and gave them a compulsion:

Don’t be scared. Dance as if it was your hearts’ content. 

The atmosphere changed and the people began to move more easily and smiles blossomed. Though his body was not in his control his mind was... Without the feelings of the other’s fear bogging him down his eyes darted around the space and found a person shrouded in shadows in the corner plucking at some type of instrument. 

With a quick surge of telekinetic power he caused a single string on the instrument to snap and break away from the turn-stock it was connected to. An audible and resounding twang sang out dissonantly across the room.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

The Great North || Hallie & Giles

[halliemcleod]

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He heard a clatter from the bathroom as he stirred his concoction. I hand connected to his hip and leaned back to look around the corner of the kitchen doorway. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Very seldom was it when things fell around people like him and Hallie. Their minds were too quick to catch them...

He wanted badly to reach out and probe her mind, to glimpse what was going on. He turned his eyes back to the pot when he decided he could not see her and heard no further commotions. The last time he had gone into her mind, Ahriman had threatened him... and that was nothing to shake a spoon at. He blinked, looking up, then, and wondering to himself why they never talked about the ominous consciousness that lay dormant, for the most part, in Hallie’s head. Maybe not talking about it helped her keep it at bay. He didn’t know. 

Words give people power, ‘cher. Don’t speak anything you ain’t wantin’ somebody ta’ have, Giles, he could hear Linda Faye tell him from somewhere deep in his memories.

After a few minutes he perceived her moving around in the living room, continuing to half-heartedly pack things away into their temporary homes. “Hal,” He began as he rounded the corner of the kitchen, no wearing a frilly apron he had found in one of the drawers, “how are you?” He asked as he leaned against the kitchen’s doorframe, his hand still holding his stirring spoon and propped against his free hip.

He then motioned with his spoon in the direction of the bathroom. “I heard a racket.” He searched for her gaze and when he finally caught it he lifted a half-accusatory, half-curious eyebrow at her. “Are you alright?” 

They talked, him and her.... but never about themselves. Moving to Canada was sudden... and why Canada? Why not back to the Loch? He was suddenly overtaken with the questions that he had for her, but he stuffed them down, waiting to see what she would give in answer to the question he had asked aloud.

[babyblueeyes1864]

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Boys And Guilds Of Every Age || Drabble

Giles wrapped another loop of the cashmere scarf he wore around his neck, pulling it up over the bottom half of his face to cover it from the nose down.

“Jesus,” he exclaimed as a shiver of cold wracked through him. The northern winters were still something he hadn’t acclimated to, missing the mild ones of his southern raising. He ran from his car in the parking deck to the elevator that would take him to his apartment.

When the doors slid closed, he reached up and pulled the scarf down and filled his lungs with air that was much warmer than that of the open, grey and frigid parking deck. He slipped his fingers from their gloves and brought them up to his face where he blew the now even warmer air into them and rubbed them together as if he were trying to start a fire with the friction between them.

A stylish overcoat was draped over his shoulders and fell to a length that stopped just above the knee.

“Coffee,” he said to himself as he slid the key home in the lock and turned it. As he swung the door open he stood frozen by something more than the cold of the winter that seeped into the building. Laying on the hardwood floor was a single card, larger than a regular playing card. On the back was scribbled a time and place, nothing more. His eyes scanned the visible parts of the apartment before he reached out a hand and the card floated up to meet his grasp. He turned it over and was graced with none other than the Queen of Swords from a tarot deck.

“Dammit.” he clipped out a quick curse. He strode forward and the door slammed shut behind him by a mental nudge. He shrugged off his coat and it danced over to the coat rack where it hung itself up neatly. He threw the card on the counter as he busied himself with making a warm cup of coffee.

As it began to brew he turned around and leaned against the opposite counter and bore a hole into the Queen of Swords with a steeled expression. He crossed his arms and then covered his mouth with a rubbing hand, feeling the scratching stubble over his chin. This wasn’t good. This was worse than not good.

There was nothing that she could want that would be good. She was as deadly as the poison she was named for. The coffee maker dinged and he snatched up the steaming cup without taking his eyes off the card.

“Dammit.” he clipped another one just before he sipped the steaming liquid, letting its sting bite into his tongue. He took some solace knowing that if she wanted him dead he would already be that way, there was no doubt about it.

He flipped up his wrist to look at the time. Just enough, he thought. Thank god he came back home when he did, or he would have missed the mandatory invitation. Then he would have been dead... He let go of the coffee cup and it followed him as he traversed to the bedroom and threw open the door to his closet. He walked inside and let his hand trail over the sleeves of jackets and shirts that hung neatly in a row of color coordinations. He picked red and maroon, their house colors, as it were.

He stripped out of his current clothes and donned the suit. A tie snaked out of its hiding place and wound around his neck, expertly tying itself into a crisp knot. He snatched the coffee and downed the remainder in a few gulps. He looked in the mirror and found that he liked what was staring back at him. It was put together, and striking. He was sure that she would have preferred the red eyes of his father’s to his own… but she hadn’t called on Remy. He huffed a sigh and returned to the living room where the coat from before was waiting for him, floating in the exact position that would allow him to sling his arms into it hastily.

He left the scarf, finding that his adrenaline would supply the warmth he was lacking earlier.

***

The restaurant was lush and high profile. It wasn’t foreign to him, as Giles always had loved expensive things. His suit and jacket were designer, and everything in his closet had been custom made or altered to fit him, and him alone. He wore stylish boots that weren’t just for looks…. One never did know when they were going to be in need of a sturdy pair of boots.

On his left wrist twinkled an expensive gold watch that had diamonds at each time point.  She would expect nothing less of him, than for him to be in her attendance with his most expensive attire.

He surveyed the restaurant with his telepathy, and found what he was looking for… an impenetrable void, a steel wall that his mind could not slip past.  He began walking toward their table and she put down the menu that masked her face.

She seemed younger than the last time he had seen her. But for her, that was something not unexpected. She could get whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted - including youth.

A smile split her beautiful face and she leaned back into her seat. “Guillaume!” she proclaimed and gestured for him to take the chair opposite of her.  “How nice of you to accept my invitation. And so prompt, as well.” She took up her wine glass and sipped, her eyes watching his every move.

“Did I have a choice?” Giles answered as a greeting and tucked himself into the table.

“Of course not, but it’s fun to pretend, is it not?” Her eyes twinkled with delight as she turned her head at him.

“Hmm.” Giles tutted with a sardonic smile. He motioned for the waiter.  “I’ll have your top shelf whiskey, on the rocks.”

“Ah, just like your father-”

“I inherited his abilities, nothing more.” Giles cut her off. He and Remy had made progress, but not that much…

She gasped, mockingly. “Such animosity you harbor for him. He’s not that bad once you get to know him, really.”

Giles rolled his eyes and looked at his watch, wondering where his drink was.

“Why have you graced me with your presence, Bella Donna?” Giles asked blatantly just before the waiter brought his drink over on a platter.  Giles watched her as she eyed the man and was silent until he left their proximity.

She sighed deeply, then shrugged. “You’re needed.”

Giles couldn’t help but laugh, then looked around, wondering who among the crowd was a part of her brood.

“I cut ties with the Theives Guild years ago.” He took a drought from his drink and sat it down rather harshly. “They won’t give you an old, dirty penny for my ransom.”

“My dear,” she placed a hand on the one of his that held the drink, “I don’t mean to ransom you. I mean to employ you!”

Giles blinked.  “I don’t do dirty business, Bella Donna.” His expression was hard, bordering on menacing.

“Oh?” she said. “Then tell me what affords you those nice clothes, that handsome watch?” She smiled and her teeth sparkled from the myriad candle lights.

“Business that was done long ago…” Giles growled as he yanked his hand away from hers, causing some of the liquid to slosh over the edge and on to the table.

“Giles,” she tsked, “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, now, do we?”

“People watch me now. SHIELD. They scooped me up a long time ago and have everlasting sights set on me. One wrong step and someone will pull a trigger.” He shrugged.  “Sorry, toots.”

Her smile dissolved and Giles felt his heart skip a beat. She was one of, if not the most, deadliest people he knew.

“The Master of a Guild can do many things. I don’t think you should be worrying about any pesky SHIELD agents anymore, darling.” She picked up her wine glass and lazily swirled its contents.

“You’ve been drafted. Remy moves against me, and I will match his firepower and snuff out his reign and reunite the guilds, like it was in the olden days.” She laughed to herself, seemingly thinking she was amusing.

Giles gasped. Remy had taken the Theive’s Guild?  What a stupid move, he thought… and more than that, how could he have not known about it?

Giles suddenly snapped his fingers and everyone around them stopped moving.

“I’m not the boy you met in the Guild all those years ago, Bella, that could do parlor tricks with cards and only hear people’s thoughts...” he gestured around him at the stilled people.  “I’m stronger than I was then. And I don’t do those things anymore. You can just find yourself a new pawn to use on the Assassin’s Guilds’ play.” He pushed back from the table and stood, whipping out the tarot card that she had slid under his dear earlier from under his sleeve. In a fluid motion he pushed a charge into it and slung it toward her face where it stopped suddenly.

“I am greater, and above thieves and assassins, now.” The card exploded and she jumped back only slightly, not wanting her lovely eyebrows to be singed.  He turned and bega to walk away when she called after him.

“I know.” She opened a pocket mirror and fixed her displaced hair. “You are a great deal stronger, with a couple new tricks.” She snapped it closed. “And that’s why you’ll be my new gambit.”

The word gambit made his blood boil and he saw red. “The next time I see you, I’ll kill you.” Giles defied her. He turned deftly and walked away as the people in the restaurant began to move again, never knowing they had had moments of time stolen from them.

A dark expression colored her face as she watched him go.

“We shall see, my dear LeBeau. We shall see…”  She picked up her glass as if nothing had happened and sipped on it as she waited for her food.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

The Great North || Hallie & Giles

“But... Canada?” Giles asked again her again as two boxes of her belongings floated behind him, small baubles from the walls’ shelves flying toward them and nestling themselves inside with her other effects.

“You could have went somewhere warmer, and with an ocean front view!” He came to the kitchen table where the boxes went to rest. His eyebrows piqued and he waggled them at her as he said, “Louisiana! You could have gone to Louisiana and had Gumbo instead of....” he though for a moment, not knowing what it was they served predominantly in Canada, “moose?” The thought of it made him cold, and he wrapped his armed around himself and shivered.

“And it’s going to be cold as balls up there, you know that, right??” He taped up one of the now full boxes. “We could have went and re-opened Linda Faye’s boarding house.” That was a pleasant thought that struck him. He entertained it, wondering what the place would look like if it was updated to the current times. And with their telekinesis -mostly Hallie’s because she outmatched him in every column of that super power- it would take no time at all to rehab the dilapidated structure.

A spoon hit him square in the forehead and he startled, completely lost in his musings. He looked up at her and found the stern expression she wore boring a hole into him.

“Fine, fine, fine....” he put his hands up in the air and turned around, summoning the pictures that hung on her walls to him with a wave of his hand. “But don’t say that I didn’t give you options when you’re plucking icicles off of your lovely, lady eyelashes!” He caught one picture out of the air before it made its way into the one, still open box. It was a picture of him, Hallie and Blaine at a bar. It was one of very few moments they had shared that was framed, or even captured behind a lens.  His thumb caressed over it for a moment as feelings flooded through him, making him nostalgic and feeling, already, the loss of proximity with someone he considered not just a friend, but family.

“Dammit,” he muttered as he shoved the frame into the box.

“Get out,” he commanded as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. “I’m tired of packing up your things and I’m hungry.” The cabinets flew open and all manner of pots and pans floated out and set themselves around the counter tops.

“You can do it faster, anyhow.” He shooed her out. “And I want to make some gumbo, now.” He opened the refrigerator and surveyed its contents. There was just enough, succinct ingredients that he could make a decent pot of it. He orchestrated with his hands as a knife flew out of the drawer and began to dice and julienned the vegetables. 

Minutes later he was standing over the boiling concoction, throwing in a handful of spices as he stirred and proclaimed, “Gumbo, gumbo, in the pot, Giles in Canada... what’chya got?” He watched the liquid circulate, wondering if he could divine from its movements whether his audacious contemplation of following his best friend to Canada would bring him fortune or ruin.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Posts from this point forward will be for a new, reunion RP. Previous posts and universe settings are not carried forward.

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

A Sight Unfamiliar || Gillaine

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

The suddenness of being lifted into the air seemed to clear his mind, and the words from Giles cut through him like knives. He put up no fight, allowing his arms to fall against his side as Giles rose up to face him, his touch to his chest felt like stinging bees, but all he could do was remember.

Remember the way things had been so long ago. He had made such a practice of pushing those thoughts away that now they came back like a flood, every moment from the time he saw Giles in that kitchen at Stark tower until the final time he’d seen him. The time he’d never even known he was there.

When they hit the ground and Giles’ fist connected, he considered letting him tear him to shreds. He should, he knew. he deserved it. He managed to catch his fists though, long enough to whisper one sentence.

“I tried,” he closed his eyes, still lying on the ground with Giles struggling against his strength to hold him off. He opened his eyes, aching at seeing the pain in the blue ones he had lost himself in so long ago. “I tried, but I couldn’t.”

Unable to describe in words, he let the last memory he had of Giles play through his mind, knowing Giles would see it. He closed his eyes again, unable to look him in the face. 

He had found his way back to the city, so lost in not knowing what had happened. Every memory of the time when the demons had control burning through his mind as he desperately searched for them, for Hallie and Giles. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, didn’t know where they might be.

Didn’t know if they were even alive.

When he had finally found them, there had been so much joy in their eyes as they had looked at each other, so much love. He could tell Hallie was pregnant, glowing with it. Giles’ hand had been on her stomach as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her swollen belly. All that played through his mind was how he had tried to kill Giles, or the demons had. How he had yelled at Hallie, torn her to shreds with his words. He wasn’t worthy, couldn’t step in and mess up the pureness of what they had found in each other.

He had walked away, vowing never to cause either of them pain ever again, knowing they would be happy together, that he would just cause a taint in their lives.

Blaine opened his eyes, able to feel to tears flow down his face. He released Giles’ fists, letting his own hands fall to the ground. “I couldn’t, I swore to myself I wouldn’t get between the two of you.”

He turned his head, waiting for the blow he deserved.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Giles could only stare and mindlessly blink at Blaine for a long while.

He was real, not fake, not figment, not broken reality.  He was alive, still Blaine, fully intact and well, still as young as he was on the day the first met when it was Blaine that threw Giles against a wall in the panic of threat.

Giles had mentally frozen everyone in a mile radius when he first heard Blaine’s voice.  He was starting to feel the strain of the feat.  Finally after a few more moments of his mind racing with old and new information he reached down and snatched Blaine up by his shirt, not being gentle in the least.  He began to drag Blaine behind him as the people of the market street came back to life, not even realizing they had been suspended from movement and thought for a short while.

Giles pulled Blaine gruffly through the crowd, bumping into people and shoving them out of his way.  He made his way to a secluded alleyway, and as soon as he perceived they were out eye and ear shot of the people.  He swung Blaine around and let him collide into the alleyway wall.  The memory of him coming back to life and finding Blaine beating a man senseless came to him, reminding him once more of all the situations he and Blaine had been through together.

“You couldn’t BARE to let yourself come between us??”  Giles began to pace, cutting angry glares at Blaine at sporadic intervals.

Pebbles and broken stone, trash that littered the alleyway lifted from the broken asphalt and floated about, Giles’ emotions causing his telekinesis to be uncontrolled... something that hadn’t happened in a very long time.

“What about when Hallie-” He stopped in his tracks, looking down the alleyway, his pupils contracted to pinpoints, watching a memory from long ago...

“You couldn’t bare to be there when Hallie sacrificed herself to try and save our daughter from Ahriman?” He was stock still, now, but the rubble around them still shuttered and darted about in uncontrolled patterns.

“How her body was broken beyond any mending...”  He cut his eyes over at Blaine, then... “Except for, maybe, the healing you could have offered...”

“She died crying, Blaine... Begging me to exorcise the monster that is Ahriman, the Destroyer, from our daughter... “  His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white... “To do what she couldn’t...”

He suddenly slammed his fist into the wall beside Blaine’s fist.

“Where were you when I had to kill Ginny...”  His gaze was deadly cold, piercing.

“Where have you been for the last 200 years of my life that you thought I would have been better off without you?!”

Giles felt unhinged, volatile.  He could have ripped Blaine to shreds in that very moment and walk away and continue with his life just the way it had been for the last 2 centuries.

Or....

His features cracked, dissolving from coldness into complete unburdened emotion.  He began to cry, sobbing.

Giles swiftly wrapped his arms around Blaine and hugged himself into him, tighter and tighter.

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

A Sight Unfamiliar || Gillaine

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

The world around them froze in place, and for a moment he had the thought of old movies, fairy tales and romances where such a scene was described. Then he realized what had happened, that one of the powers Giles had always had was such. He shook his head just the slightest, his hand reaching out almost of it’s own will.

The words hit him, and what little air that was in his lungs left him. He knew, had always known that the truth as they, the people he had left behind, had known was that he had died, been torn to shreds by a host of demons so powerful not even he had been able to fight them off.

His pureness of heart had been what had saved him, he later learned. He never was told the name of the man who had saved him, brought him back to life as he knew it. It shouldn’t have been possible, and he wasn’t sure if the man had even been from this realm. All he knew was that one second he had been gone, and then he was back, fully himself, without any scars or hints as to what had happened. The man had nodded, blessed him, and then went on his way fast enough that by the time Blaine had thought to stop him, he was gone from his reaches.

Blaine took a step forward, almost stumbling. “I, this, how are you here?”

He couldn’t form thoughts, let alone words. He started to brace himself for attack, but couldn’t bear it, coundn’t let himself against him, against Giles. If it wasn’t him, he knew he would most likely die in an attack, but it hurt too much already.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Blaine’s voice shattered the invisible ice that had encased him, loosing his limbs and mind from paralysis.

Giles’ hands flew up and blue sparks and flashes of power sparked around them.  Blaine lifted into the air before he could take another step.  Giles’ demon eyes glowed as his power ignited.  He was still too wary, and too scared that it wasn’t really Blaine.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are...” He said coldly, his features sharp and deadly.  “I haven’t been in the game for at least a century... everybody that had beef with me should just about all be nothing but dust by now...”

He stepped closer, inspecting.  He cut his eyes up.

“Blaine Sinclaire died 306 years ago, mon cher.  And if he didn’t... well then, that was a man with enough decency that he would have told us... He wouldn’t have wandered this world for 300 years and not-”

Giles stopped himself short, reaching up and touching his face.  Pulling his hand away, he saw the moisture that had collected on his fingertips.  He was crying...

He looked back up at the man.

Power flooded his veins and he lifted into the air, hovering in front of the man with a deadly glint to his stare.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t make you explode-”

He had put his hand on the man’s chest, ready to push a charge into his chest and watch the pink mist cover the market street when the tactility slammed into him.

Memory over memory from Blaine... the man he never had the chance to say goodbye to... His love long lost, star-crossed lover shot back into his skies.

“Wha...”  They floated down to the ground.  Giles pulled his hand away, staring at it.

In the next instant he hauled back and knocked Blaine square in the jaw with a heavy fist.

“You BASTARD,” he yelled.  “Why...” he launched himself at him, angry and confused, and still scared for some reason, “WHY the FUCK would-” he said between swings, “leave me AND NOT-” he couldn’t process, so he let his fists do his talking.

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

A Sight Unfamiliar || Gillaine

Brazil was such a bright place. Even after all the changes in the world, it still fought to hold it’s culture. That was one of the reasons he had sought it out. It was rare to find anything even slightly familiar to things from the past. His dark sunglasses hid his eyes from the groups of people around him, but his slight smile was to reassure that he meant them no harm. They could tell he was a stranger, his skin would never reach the level of dark that the natives boasted. He bartered with a few of the merchants, trading some vegetables he’d been able to grow for some cloth and other necessities. He’d found a quiet place outside of the city, where it was rare to see anyone unless they were seeking him for medical help. The people here knew what he was, but hid his secret. That was how they payed him, keeping him out of the light of those who might hunt him for what he was.

Long past was the time where it had been acceptable to be anything other than human. The world had almost been destroyed at the hands of those who only sought power and the means to get it, and only in the last one hundred years or so had things started to turn right once again. Everything still changed, the Earth still spun, and Blaine adapted.

It had been ages since he had gone by that name. Centuries now since he’d seen any of the people who had known him by it. Almost all were dead, and the few like him who might still be alive were as well hidden as he was. He knew SHIELD had crumpled, fallen as all regimes do after their time has passed. He had already slipped away by then, had been moving every so often to escape the notice of anyone who might realize he didn’t age. Every so often his thoughts would turn to a dark haired man and the red headed woman who had been his greatest loves. He had tried to move past, been with other people. In the end he had decided it wasn’t worth the pain, and that he would stay alone. It made it easier to move away from place to place, helping where he could. He liked it here though, so maybe he would stay a while yet. A brightly colored scarf woven by one of the women here in town caught his eye. His smile brightened just a bit as memories of Hallie played through the back of his mind. He ran his fingers over the soft material, but knew he wouldn’t buy it. Some memories were too painful to remember more than on a rare occasion or two. The merchant woman offered him a price, but he shook his head with a sad smile.

He had one more place to stop, where he could get some seeds for the herbs and plants he wanted to grow. Nodding at a few of the locals he knew, he headed for the seed cart. He paused though, unsure of what he was seeing. There was a man already there, also not a native. His pale skin gave him away, though his hair was as black as any of the natives. Though he knew it couldn’t be him, there was something about his structure, the form of his shoulders and back, that made Blaine’s heart stutter. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the sudden feelings. He moved to start towards the cart again when the man turned, and suddenly he was trapped in an ocean of ice blue eyes, eyes he knew were ringed in black. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He knew he must be seeing things.

Should he say something? What if it was a trap? Surely the man would just laugh at him and tell him he was wrong, because he had to be. “Giles? What, I, I thought,” he trailed off, shaking his head again.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Giles sipped from his coffee cup, noting the exuberant bitterness.  A loose over-shirt billowed in the breeze, clinging to his shoulders and revealing the sheer a-shirt he wore underneath.  The busy sidewalk of people flowed around him like he was a stone cutting the stream of a running river.  He stood in reverence, marking in his mind again how old he was and how some things never seemed to change.

He looked up in to the clear sky, seeing the new day's sun blaring its golden rays down upon the bustling hoard.  Golden.  He cast his eyes down to the ground, smiling wistfully.  

Nearly three centuries he had walked the earth.  It was a feat, even for the mutant population.  Longevity was preserved for those that could heal.  Though Giles was a fast healer, it wasn't in his specific genetic gifts that caused him to cease aging.  It was a mystery.  One he hadn't entirely grown tired of yet.  There was still life yet to be lived, and he would go on.

He began to move, joining the current of people flowing through the market streets.  He had adopted a grandmotherly woman in the apartment complex he had landed in for his stay this go round, and she had sent him out to market.  She needed some seeds for her garden that he didn't know he was going to be helping her grow.

As he walking, an empath hit him in his chest.  Wistful, sorrow and the feeling of fond memories, stirring in his chest.  It was enough to make him stop in his tracks.  He hadn't relied on telepathy in some time.  The world had only began to recover from the wars he had fought in.  For the better part of his life now, he had deceived the world, faking a death for which he fabricated in the minds of the people he cared for as him dying of old age.  It was easier that way.  The people he loved had died.  Hallie left him... Their daughter, too.

Blaine Sinclaire, whom he never had the chance to give a goodbye to...

He shook his head, clearing the memories.  It was the past.  This was the present.  It did him no good to dwell on things that could not be changed.

He stopped by a seed stand, gathering the things that were on his list.

“Giles? What, I, I thought..."

Giles had just turned away after paying the merchant, ready to head back to his mundane life when the voice hit him in the gut like a canon ball.  Chills spidered out over his skin, even though the sun beat down with a heavy heat.

The people walking around them stopped walking, all of them stilled in their paths.  It was a combination of his telepathy and telekinesis that he accomplished this.  The silence was deafening.

He didn't reach for a card in his pocket, still weary after all these years to traverse without a deck with him.  

"This is it.  This is the part where I finally go crazy."  He shook his head, his eyes never leaving Blaine's.  

He reached out with his mind, barely touching the edge of the man's in front of him.  He knew it wasn't true.  Someone was trying to trick him, bring him down.  He barely touched his mind, scared of a trick, or worse, it truly not being Blaine.

Gold sprouted in his mind's eye, unfurling like a flower blooming from a sun.

He gasped, dropping his coffee and bag.

"You're... dead..."  He breathed, disjointedly.  He was frozen, unable to move.  It couldn't be real.  Blaine was dead, dust centuries ago.

He was transfixed, unable to move or speak, hardly even breath.  His heart was pounding in its cage of ribs, hammering and threatening to explode, yet still he couldn't move.  He had never dreamed like this, so real... so unbelievably real, but yet a dream was the only thing he could fathom to explain what was happening. 

[explodingcardsandfeels]

I Choose You, Nine-Tails! || Gabriel&Giles

Giles threw the grimoire with as much force as he could.  He watched it sail away from him and he snarled as he heard it thud against a distant tree.  He frantically dug in his pocket for his compass.  He pulled it out and watched helplessly as the needle spun and jerked about in its glass case.  "Arrrrgghhhhh!"  He huffed, clenching the compass so tightly that the glass cracked.  

The metal of the compass began to glow blue as Giles poured a charge into it.  He threw the compass as hard as he could into the canopy, his eyes set hard and angry as he watched it explode, causing birds and all other manner of wildlife in the tree tops to flee.

He was angry.  This was the 5th day in a row he had stumbled around in the jungle only to be spit out at where he had began.  He refused to leave the jungle this time until he had in his possession that which he sought.

Giles flung out his hand, mentally recalling the grimoire he had given a chuck.  The rugged, leather book flew back into his hand.  He stood there, chest glistening with sweat in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the treetops.  His other hand covered his eyes and put pressure on his temples.  He was thinking, his mind racing, trying to think of something he hadn't yet thought of.

He dropped the book, but before it hit the floor of the forest it stopped.  It floated back up and opened itself in front of him.  Giles swiped his hand in front of it and the pages turned.

The language was cryptic, and the spells it contained even more so than the code it was written in.  If only he could make the book speak to him.

His eyes snapped up.  There was a thought.  He reached out and touched the book, letting his raw power flow across the pages.  Sparks glinted and flashed.  The book had been crafted with such care that it possessed its own magic.  And for the most part, magic was a part of life, as long as it wasn't borne of necromancy.  If it contained magic it, it contained life.  Life could be made to speak.

He was desperate.  He didn't have the time or will to hold out and channel the power from the earth.  Giles decided to use a darker method. 

Sacrifice.

"Phasmatos insyra veil."  He chanted and from the ground sprouted a gnarled, twisting, thorned tree.  It grew until it met with the book, and then twisted and folded in and around itself to make a stand upon which the book rested.

The forest seemed to be quiet now, void of any sound other than the beating of his heart.

He knelt and placed a hand on the ground, facing away from the book.

"You are summoned." He spoke to the forest, eyes flashing with a flare of power.  A moment passed before the rustling of dead foliage and movement caught his attention.  A brightly colored viper was slithering toward him.  Giles flipped his palm over slowly, a welcoming, open hand.  The viper stopped just short of his fingers and coiled.  It reared its head up.  Sweat dripped down Giles' forehead.

"You are summoned, beast.  Serve me for my purpose."  The snake swayed back and forth, holding Giles in its gaze.  It slowly uncoiled itself, slithering up Giles' hand and onto his arm.  Giles stood and turned back to the book as the snake wound its way up to his shoulder, crossing over his back to the other shoulder.  Giles held out his other arm and the snake stretched itself out.  It suddenly turned its unblinking eyes back to Giles', its mouth opening wide as it prepared to strike.

Before it could leave his hand, Giles grasped it behind the head, pulled out a dagger from behind him and drove its tip into the snakes belly, gutting it.

The light around him seemed to dim and the leaves that fell seemed to still in the air as though time had stopped all together. 

He felt the cold, prickling power of the dark magic gather in his hand, winding down his arm an settling in his core.  He shuddered, the ripple of power sending waves of goosebumps over his skin.  

He dropped the snake, its body still writhing with fading neural impulses.

Giles jutted out his hand again, hovering it over the grimoire.  "Phasmatos incantus."  

He felt the pulse of the spell, a shimmer like clear smoke flowed out of his hand and into the book.

"Speak with me, dear Grimoire."  He cooed, a crooked grin on his face.  The magic he was weaving was dark, but still, it made him feel alive.  "Spill the secrets of your creators, give me that of which I seek for I have given you voice."

The shimmer of power ceased, and Giles' spell was wove.  He pulled his hand back, stepping back and waiting.  His breathing stilled as he waited.  He nearly turned blue in the face with bated breath until he threw up his hands.  He should have known that those infernal witches would have warded their books against something even as crafty as that.  He reached down and snatched his pack from the ground and turned away, content to leave the book on its new pedestal for the rest of eternity for all the good it had been to him.

"So little faith he has in his own power."  A cool voice flowed over him, making him freeze in place.  He slowly turned his head to glance at the book over his shoulder.

The book was now being held by a tree that was twisted into human shape.  The pedestal he had grown for it had become its representation.  She slowly turned the pages.

"I am quite a lovely book, aren't I, Guillaume?"  It turned it's head, a quizzical and flirty gesture.  

"I wouldn't say lovely," Giles conceded.  "Infernally aggravating would be more like it."  

The grimoire laughed.  "It is the way I was designed.  Such is my nature."  

Giles dropped his pack again and came closer.  "You're coven is dead.  You can choose whatever nature you'd like."  She cut her eyes up at him.  "I am a book, Guillaume.  I do not choose anything for I am not conscious.  Unlike all of you with souls, I was written, definite and unchanged.  I am what I was when I was written and so shall I remain.  Your giving me of a voice does not change that."

"I did not give you a voice, dear Book.  I only showed it to you."  He reached out and caressed the page that was open.  "You were wrought with much magic, both light and dark."  He lifted his eyes up to her in a coy manner.  "There is always choice with magic."

"Why do you seek this artifact?"  She asked as she pulled the book away from him and continued perusing its pages.  

Ah, the real questions, he thought.  "Destiny."  Giles said flatly as he looked out over the forest, away from her.

"It does not exist.  Only for things like me is there destiny.  You are unwritten from one moment to the next."

He looked back to her.  "There are those that can see the paths there are to be taken, Dear Book."  He squinted his eyes at her.  "And in case my path turns that way... I need it."

"The Anima Comedentis is too powerful to be in the hands of any one being.  The coven has hidden it from the world with just cause."

"I will only use it once, and on only one... and only if it comes to be."  Giles' eyes pleaded with her.

"Says he who used sacrificial magic to conjure me."  She shook her head, the willow leaves of her head shaking.  "Do not begrudge me for not believing you."

"I am a user of both light and dark."  He looked at her with a hard stare.  "not unlike the makers of that artifact and you."  

"True, but the Anima Comedentis was made with intentions of justice.  It rid the world of great and terrible evil.  And then the one who fashioned became corrupted by it.  The coven moved and hid it away for ever more."

Sudden and hot anger shot through Giles, causing him to stand and clutch his fists.  He nearly moved to make her burst into flames, but then thought better of it.  She had no life to care about losing.  She was impressions and remnants of life.

"You are impartial.  Words and spells.  Just tell me how to lift the wardings.  You'll never know what happens after this spell fades."

She looked up at him an closed the book slowly.  "So talented, and yet you cannot even see.  How many a witch-born do you know that would be able to cause a Grimoire to speak, dark or light?"  She shrugged.  "I do not believe it out of your skill to figure out."

Giles' patience with the book was waning.  "I promise to return it when it is of no longer use to me.  I will reinstate the wards and people will wander around this jungle lost for days and die before they ever find it."

"Guillaume," she laughed heartily.  "Do you not realize by now that I do not know?"  She held herself up to him.  "The answers you seek are not written within me.  I hold many secrets of the Coven, but the Wardings nor the location of the Anima Comedentis is not among them."

Giles' face reddened and the veins in his arms nearly burst as he clenched his fists so tightly.  

"He of Heavenly Face and Deamon Eyes, Look in thine own Tomes for the answers you seek."  

Giles glared at her.  "I am tired of your foolish, hollow words, Book.  I hope you enjoyed your voice while it was gifted to you."

He raised his hand.  She hugged the book to herself, wanted to back away, but was rooted to the ground.  "Reliquere." He said and the spell unwove itself.  The tree wilted and the grimoire toppled to the ground, lifeless and dull looking.

"Incindia."  He breathed and the book burst into flames.  It was of no use to him anymore.  She had said it herself, the answers he looked for were not written within its pages.  How did a coven so powerful not keep records of their spells?  

Because the Soul Eater was not meant to be found.  The book had also told him that.  

"He of heavenly face and demon eyes... in thine own tomes?" His face scrunched with scrutiny as he mulled over her last words.  He was pacing, beside himself with angst.

Did she mean Seraphim or Deamon magics?  Those magics were tricky, and dangerous.  One risked being consumed by heavenly flames or possession.  And a good deal of power to transmute, besides worrying about the dangers.  Channeling those magics were reserved for the elite Witch-Born, desperate, end of the ropers.  And they usually never came through the spells unscathed. 

Still, the thoughts turned in his mind.

He stretched his hand out and the pile of ash that was the talking grimoire flew up as if caught in a wind and circled around his hand in intricate, hypnotizing loops.  The ashes shimmered, clear smoke drained from the undulating ashes and synced into Giles' hand.  Once he had drained the magic from it, he let the wind carry it away in earnest.

He pulled in a steadying breath.  He had only studied channeling such majicks, never actually practicing it.

No time for second guessing.  He dropped to hands and knees and began etching out a circle in the dirt.  Intricate geometric designs emerged and dark symbols.  He sat back on his haunches when he thought he was finished and surveyed his work.  He slapped his knees and stood, satisfied.  He strode back to his pack and dug until he found and produced a 6 foot length of iron-linked chain.  

Within him still stirred the power he had collected from the sacrificial magic.  He huffed out a breath and tightened his grip on the rope.  "Incidius scribe."  Fire spewed from his clutched fist that held the chain.  The fire traveled down the chain and began to glow gold, losing its orange hue altogether.  It became hot enough to melt the chain, but instead of letting it do so, Giles commanded it to etch into the metal heavenly runes.  Sweat dripped from his brow again as he finished, letting the heavenly fire dissipate.

In all honesty, it was something he didn't know he was capable of doing.  Summoning and controlling fire was easy, but using it to scribe Seraphim Scrpit was something altogether a different story.  He was fortunate he wasn't burnt to a crisp when the flames took on the power of the Angels in creating the runes.

The first part of his new plan was complete.  Now for the second...

In a display of agility and some obvious training, Giles slung and maneuvered the chain in such a manner that it gracefully wound itself around his right arm.  He then took his dagger from behind him and stepped up to the circle he had previously drug into the dirt.  

He slid the dagger across his left palm, letting the metal bite into his skin.  Blood welled and spilled over, dripping onto the circle.  The edges pulsed and the wildlife quietened, the forest stilled.  Giles turned his hand over and let the blood drop freely.  

"Come.  Come and serve your master, beast."  The blood that had dripped into the circle began to smoke and bubble.  The smoke began to billow and fill the entire space within the circle.  The smoke was inky black and thick, almost viscous.  Giles took a step back and covered his mouth and nose with his free elbow.  A stench more grand than anything had ever experienced enveloped the area.  Carnage and decay, rot, infection and sulfur all floating together in the air.

The smoke suddenly stopped moving, and then collapsed in on itself.  It was painful to watch as the smoke took shape.  The sound of bones snapping and crunching could be heard, flesh tearing and sizzling as the smoke turned to pocked, grey skin.

A perfectly wicked, gruesome monstrosity stared, unblinking, at Giles with six blood-red eyes, the pupils of which were white.  It stood a head shorter than Giles, and bones cut through the skin at every joint.  The sight of the thing was as horrible as the stench it carried with it.

"Why have you summoned me...." It croaked in a strangled, crackling voice.  "Foolish Witch."  It grinned, its mouth full of needle sharp, shinning black teeth.  It took a step forward and Giles jumped in surprise.

"Ah, ah ah!" Giles pointed down at the circle.  "I did.  And it is in my circle that you stand and with my blood that you are Called up."  Giles lifted his chin slightly.  "It is I whom you are to serve."

The demon's foot hovered in the air, frozen mid-step over the line of the circle.  "You mean to ensnare me?"  It gurgled in response and put its foot down on the circle.  

"You are inept in this school of magic, Witch, but to be fair I have eaten many a far less accomplished witch-born than you!"   It took another step and crossed over the circle.  

Giles shot out his hand in a halting gesture.  "I have summoned you to this plane, beast, by the life that runs through my veins.  You must serve me!"

"I have no master!" It screeched.  "And your blood was only a conduit and taste of what will soon be mine!"  It surged forward and Giles forced his power into a concussive force that pushed the demon back.

Green slime dripped from its maw and where it dripped on the forest floor, tendrils of smoke whisped up.  "Fools are the children of Adam and Eve!"  it screamed as it lurched again.

Giles side stepped and shot out the chain wrapped around his right arm.  It whipped around the demon's neck and Giles pulled it taught.  The runes he had branded it to it gleamed and the demon's skin that touched the metal sizzled and hissed.  It screamed an ugly, horrifying sound and sank to the ground, pawing and raking its long talons at the collar Giles had made around its neck.

"You will serve me," Giles jerked the chain, pulling it around so it would have to look at him.  "The Serphim Runes command it."  

The thing hissed and bawled and after some length of time, quietened.  It slowly pushed itself up from the ground and looked at Giles disdainfully.

"What is it you would have from me, crafty witch..."  When it finally looked at Giles, its face showed a moment of shock.  Giles saw it before the recognition passed, replaced by a grimace.

"You are not of this plane, and thus you are not bound by many of its laws."  Giles tugged on the chain, making the demon get up on its feet.

"The Anima Comedentis.  Take me to it.  You can see multiple planes at once, and that will keep the wardings from influencing you."  

The demon blinked at him, all the eyes at separate times.  Giles flicked the chain, pushing power through it to make the runes pulse.  The demon hissed and moved.

"Very well."  The demon gurgled and trudged forward, swatting and slashing at the vegetation.  

Giles kept a tight grip on the chain, keeping a steady stream of his power running through it to make sure the runes caused the demon discomfort.

A strange realization washed over Giles as he was led, hopefully, to the Anima Comedentis.  The demon was able to navigate here, could feel the pulse of the Anima Comedentis.  What was keeping any one of them from coming and snatching it up for themselves?  Certainly such an artifact was coveted by all the factions.  What was there other than a ward that made mere mortals wander the forest that kept the Soul Eater safe?

The demon stopped and Giles was pulled from his reverie.  The demon looked back at him, then stretched out a long arm, pulling a curtain of leaves back.  Light poured in from the part in the trees and after his eyes adjusted, he could make out the shape of a large temple with spires and courtyards and high walls.  Years of vacancy and unhindered forest made the scene picturesque and alluring.

Giles began to smile and then remembered his new found friend.  He stepped through the opening and into the light.  The demon followed, but Giles turned, holding up a hand.

"Your services are no longer needed."  

The demon laughed.  "As soon as your power wanes enough that these runes cause me no harm I will have my claws in you."  

Giles shrugged.  "Only if some other fool of a witch summons you up."  Giles mocked, his eye brow raised to accentuate his cocky grin.

The hand he held up was the hand he had cut to let the blood in the circle.

"You may think I am an inept, but I think I may know enough tricks to get me by."  Giles winked.

"See ya, kiddo."  The cut in his palm closed, sealing and healing itself.  The demon went to move, but evaporated into the smoke it had coalesced from and dissipated.  Giles shrugged and wound up the chain and placed it back into his pack.

He sat down and dug in his pack until he produced another energy bar.

He didn't know what was left between him and the Anima Comedentis, but he was sure it would be something he would need his strength for.  And, probably, a fair amount of power, which he was currently running low on after his summoning of heaven and hell.

He sat and chewed and pondered.  

Possessing the Anima Comedentis was his ace in the hole.  His insurance.  He needed it.

His fingers began to itch as he sat and chewed, watching the sunset paint the temple in bright, orange hues.

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

PWP || Gillaine

Heat. Fire everywhere, all over his skin, spreading with every touch, shove, rake of nails over skin. The moonlight hit the ice blue eyes he was staring into, and Blaine gave a low-throated growl as he pushed him back against the bark of a tree. His hands were busy with the stubborn belt that was trying to deny him the rest of what he wanted to see, his teeth pulling on the perfect bottom lip of Giles’ succulent mouth. 

He pressed himself against him, one leg spreading the others. The belt finally gave, and he pulled it free of the loops on his pant. Momentarily distracted he moved his mouth to his neck, down to his collar bone, the hand that was free pulling on his hair, giving him better access to the pale skin of his neck.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Giles let out a long sigh as the sharpness of the tree's bark bit into his skin and the fire of Blaine's lips nipped at his on.  His lover pulled back and he could see his face.  Giles' eyes were blazing with a light of their own, illuminated by the flames Blaine was kindling in his chest.  His crooked grin broke his intensity.  The grin was full of mischief and promise.

Giles' head leaned back against the tree as Blaine manuevered his legs with his own, getting a better angle at his belt.  Heavy lids opened and he saw pale light washing over Blaine's shoulders, turning his hair a lighter color.  His breathing quickened with the anticipation.

When Blaine freed his belt, Giles became unhinged.  He sprang from the tree, his hands framing Blaine's in a frantic manner.  He pulled him in for a fervent, almost harsh kiss.  One hand snaked down an arm and then circled around to the small of Blaine's back and Giles pulled him into him, and grinding his hips against him when they connected.

Giles pulled back, a lustful haze clouding his features.  He turned Blaine and pushed him back against the tree this time.  He brought his hand up and grasped Blaine's chin, turning his face.  He kissed him sweetly, but with a fervor that would certainly make Blaine's stomach churn with yearning.

"All you had to do was ask, lover..."  Giles breathed and moved his head lower, taking a kiss from Blaine's neck and then applied pressure with his teeth, knowing it drove the man wild.   

[explodingcardsandfeels]

A New Age || Gilaine

[blainesinclaireisheretohelp]

Stretching his arms out above his head, Blaine grinned at the sound of his pack hitting the jungle floor. He tossed his shirt down next to it,welcoming the sun on his skin. He had been hiking deeper for a few hours now, trying to find a place less touched by human kind to draw the herbs and plants he needed from the earth. 

People saw him, and thought him strong, but those of the supernatural community heard “White Witch” and assumed he was week. He couldn’t blame them, most white witches were a good deal less powerful than their darker counterparts. He had a special gift though, a connection to the earth, that allowed him to directly pull from it’s power and strengthen his spells. This made him as powerful and sometimes more than the dark witches he had encountered.

He always tried to leave as small a mark on the earth that he could, showing gratitude as a return for the gift it gave him. This is why he had hiked deep into the jungle, so he could harvest what he needed without destroying more of the areas already devastated by human interaction. Satisfied with the place he had chosen, he sat down on the bare earth and closed his eyes.

He began working a spell, though to someone who was unaware they would think it an odd, haunting song. By harvesting this way, what he needed would separate itself  from the rest of the roots without destroying parts of the plant he didn’t need. The spell would take about an hour to complete, so as not to work too quickly and stress the natural ecosystem.

Blaine’s arms rested loosely at his sides, his head tilted back to absorb the sun and his legs crossed Indian style. He could hear as plants began to creep across the jungle floor, forming a circle around him. It made a small smile come to his lips, even as they still formed the words to the spell he chanted. He felt most at peace this way, working the magic given to him.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

Giles crept along through the thick brush.  He had been hiking for a number of hours and finally convinced himself to sit a moment and breath.

Physical activity was something he was not unaccustomed to.  Unlike many of the witch-born with his particular, active powerset, he had not let his physical form dwindle with reliance on his telepathy.  He was vain.  He liked for his body to be in good shape.  Having telepathy was just an added bonus to the package that was Giles LeBeau.  

He found a patch of forest floor that contained no ominous looking flora and plopped down.  He shrugged his pack off his shoulders and dug around until he produced a bottle of water.  He turned it up and nearly drained it one drought.  He pulled his shirt over his head, glad to be free of the uncomfortable, wet with sweat thing.

He grabbed a protein from his pack and as he did so a book floated out of the darkness of the bag and hovered in the air.  Giles finally got the infernal packaging around the bar to loose itself and he sank his teeth into it.  He lifted his hand up to the book and motioned for it to open.  The book sprang to life, the pages flipping wildly as if caught in a strong breeze.  He spread his fingers in a motion indicative of "stop" and the pages halted.

The ancient grimoire's parchment pages were thin and crinkled.  It was an antique many times over.  And somewhere in it held the key to finding what Giles was seeking.  He took the book from the air and propped it up on his knee.  He squinted his eyes at the scrawled runes and spell circles, his mind darting here and there trying to make sense of it.

The witch-born that made the artifact he was searching for had spelled its location, causing any who sought it to become lost, finding themselves running in circles and unable to read maps.

Giles knew better.  He was smarter.  And he had procured the artifact's maker's grimoire.  Certainly he would prevail where so many before him had failed.

He slipped his map out of his back pocket and glanced at it.  It was a good sign, since he could still make sense of it.  He was either doing something right, or he was far enough off track that the spellwork was too far away to affect him.

He marked his page in the grimoire with the map and floated it back in to the bag.  He turned his head up to the sun that filtered sparsely down on him from the canopy.  His vacant gaze shifted.  He felt something.  He looked down at the ground where his hand steadied him on the ground.

Power.  It was rippling, flowing beneath his fingertips.

He leaned forward and dug his fingers into the cool earth.  He closed his eyes and probed with his own power, delicately and lightly so as he did not alert himself.

It was clean magic, stuff borne of communion with the earth and not of sacrifice or malice.  White magic.

Giles didn't waste time with categorizing himself as a practitioner of either white or black magic.  He was versed in both, as he thought any good, self-serving witch-born should be.  Though, he would admit he did not particularly like drawing power from the sufferance of another life-force.  It yielded powerful magic, but left the user feeling hollow and wicked.  It was a feeling he didn't like to linger.

He stood up and picked up his pack, shrugging it back on over his shoulders.  He chanted a quick spell, one that would make his movements soundless.  He focused his eyes on the ground.  His abnormal eyes could see more than most witch-born.  With a fair amount of concentration he could see magic.  Beneath his feet he could see the power he felt moments earlier, golden and flowing like a tiny stream through the forest.  He looked up and to his surprise he could see many other streams winding and flowing, converging somewhere in the distance.

He stifled a smile.  Maybe it was his lucky day.  Maybe it was a local witch-born, a descendant from the long lost coven that had forged what he was looking for.  Or maybe it wasn't.  Either way, it would liven up his, otherwise, uneventful hike.

[explodingcardsandfeels]

A New Age || Gilaine

Giles LeBeau sat with his feet propped up on the chair opposite of him, sipping on a mimosa.  The sun beat down gloriously upon his shoulder and the back of his neck.  He loved the heat.  He was too accustomed with the swelter for it to cause him to sweat much, and so he sat and drank and smiled.

A waiter passed by him and turned, giving Giles a second look.  A crooked grin cracked his stoic features and he reached up and sat his glass on the table.  He watched the waiter as he dropped off another patron's breakfast and began to tread back his way.  Giles regarded him through the tinted glasses he wore.

"Mr. LeBeau," the waiter began to stammer, his speech laden heavily with Portuguese accents.  "Would you care for another mimosa, or something a bit stronger?"  The waiter was standing just a little too close, smiling just a little too widely for regular costumer service...

Giles cocked his head to one side, and looked at the man.  He was broad shouldered and dark-skinned.  He was exotic, and handsome.  And flirting.

Giles reached up and stripped the glasses from his face and smiled in earnest at the waiter.  

The man nearly gasped, catching sight of the orbs that sat behind the sunglasses.  Giles' demon eyes glinted at him, the irises set ablaze from the sun's light, drifting in pools of complete black.

"Hmm," Giles hummed, appraising the man's reaction.  It was either complete surprise or complete terror he was met with when people saw his eyes.

The waiter was terrified.  Giles could feel his fear, empathing him.  It was a shame, really... He had been doing so well.

"No, Pedro," Giles waved him away.  "I'm quite content."  He turned his focus down to the paper propped up between him and the table.  When he did not immediately see the waiter scurry away, he looked back up at him.

"What's the matter, kid? Never meet a bruxa before?"  Giles huffed the word at him, and made the dirty dishes on his serving platter tumble over and off the edge.  The waiter scrambled, dropping the tray and dove for the dishes.  Just before they crashed to the ground, Giles stilled them in the air.  

Pedro held his breath as he was squatted down, reaching for the now still dishes. 

Giles stood and held his hand up.  The platter and all the dishes floated up and expertly sat themselves atop his palm.  He held the tray out for Pedro to take.

"Mind your manners, Pedro."  Giles chided, a sheepish grin on his face.  "Not all witch-born are as nice as me."  He turned away and let the platter hover in the space he had held it until, finally, Pedro grasped it again.

Giles rolled his eyes and exited the Cabana.  It was well enough.  He had places to be.  Jungles to traverse, and ancient treasures to procure. 

[myonly-way]

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