Mad science dressed as--

Malachite. Fire Archfey: Sphynx. Unseelie Court. Born in 1660. Living at the Ludlow, Apt. 11D.

[gruntsandpoetry]

Your mother believes that your house has been visited by a presence. A demon.

[malchemist]

benji-dalton:

He hadn’t been staring, exactly. Well, by some arguments, perhaps, but in truth he’d been sort of lost in thought, trying to figure out who the bartender reminded him of, and if he’d seen him elsewhere before, and hadn’t realized he’d floated close enough to the bar to effectively be asking for service. 

His gaze sharpened into focus as the words pulled him from his thoughts, and his eyes lifted to find that other’s. His head tilted, and he smirked, slowly. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed his suspicions that there were, in fact, zero people behind him. It was a slow night. 

“Well aren’t you a delight,” he drawled, gaze and grin impish. 

Malachite’s expression didn’t really change as the young man finally brought his attention to them, used to the ever fluctuating bar flies that flit in and out. Often times Malachite went unnoticed, only coming to the Rookery when they needed a place to escape their labs, but that night they’d seen a chance to do something they hadn’t in a long time, and slipped behind the bar. It may have been a slow night, but they’d had a number of happy customers leave their side of the bar, and Malachite was ready to have this young man join the rest. Or leave. Whichever came first.

“And you still haven’t ordered. Choose.”

[malchemist]

nadia-ives:

“I’m trying to decide how trashed I want to get,” Nadia admitted. She hadn’t been thinking that long and they really could have helped someone else while she decided, but she’d go ahead and make her order. “But I guess we’ll start off light-ish. I’ll take a mojito but make it a double shot of rum, would you? And you can keep the tab open.” 

“Well, that will certainly start you on the right track.” Shifting, Mal easily took her card to set up a tab, then went about the familiar motions of making her drink. They may not step behind the bar that often anymore, but Malachite had been a staple of the Rookery since its inception and knew enough to get by. Setting down the finished drink, they raised a brow at her, “Now are you getting trashed for a fun reason, or for a want to forget.”

[malchemist]

ofdarknessanddesire:

“Mal,” Lacha chastised softly as she stepped behind the bar herself, before offering the woman they’d just spoken to a slight smile, “I’m sorry, don’t pay that any mind. Take your time and when you’re ready, let me know. I’ll take care of it myself.” A pause followed, in which her calm override did exactly what she wanted it to do, and the woman stepped to the side slightly, pacified. Then, sotto voce, she asked Malachite the only question she had, considering they were not, by her regard, a people person, “What in God’s name are you doing back here?”

Malachite didn’t bother to hide the roll of their eyes at Lacha’s admonishment, easily moving out of her way to placate the human on the other side of the bar. They watched as the woman gave Mal another glance then slid away pacified, and couldn’t help but let out a soft snort, “There was a line. I felt it prudent to offer my assistance.”

[malchemist]

Who: Open Where: The Rookery When: May, early evening

“You’re welcome to keep staring, but the longer you do, the longer the line behind you becomes, and I’ve only been tasked with manning the counter for so long. Sooner or later I will find something else to occupy my time and that does not include finding you something to drink.”

[malchemist]

let sleeping dogs-- || Lark&Mal

[malchemist]

@fuisecg​:

          It didn’t so much as sniff her hand as it waved it’s tail slowly, as if it knew that she was skittish and on the verge of ending up in another room and locking herself away from both it and Malachite. Neither were a welcome addition to the isolation that she’d created for herself, knowing each hidden location of the elixirs that she’d procured and stocked up on over the past few months as if she were afraid that Malachite had sent the dog to sniff them all out. If she moved them higher, then it wouldn’t be able to reach them. But then again, neither would she if she moved them too far from her own reach. Or memory. “I didn’t ask for this…” She responded finally as if it were an answer to a question that had always hung out between the two of them since she’d fled what Malachite had provided her with for decades for the only thing that made her feel somewhat normal anymore. It used to be their labs, the places that she’d curl up in and fall asleep after watching the other work for hours on end with a song in her heart but it had since been silenced to a barely there whisper. She didn’t ask for their help. She didn’t ask for the dog. She didn’t ask for what she didn’t know could be given, not anymore than she wished she knew the words to even ask anymore. But it also didn’t stop her from moving from her perch on the table towards her small bedroom as the dog silently moved with her, causing her to pause and stare at the creature. “Are you sure it’s a dog?”

“No, you didn’t.” But those around Malachite rarely asked for what they were given. So often Malachite was able to find what they needed long before it was necessary to speak it aloud. It’s what had gotten them in to numerous sticky situations, but out of infinitely more. But somewhere, along the way, they’d lost the ability to find out what was needed for those that mattered to them most. Lark had suffered the most. And Malachite wouldn’t stop until that wrong had been made right. “That’s what centuries of breeding seem to say.” Biting down on a sigh, they moved to stand between Lark and the door to her room she seemed inclined to disappear into, “You’re still small enough to be thrown over my shoulder, songbird. Let’s go.”

[malchemist]

@whyvette​:

Yvette accepted the cheese from them–it was soft, slightly greasy to the touch now, after being exposed to warmth and air–and, telling herself that everything would probably turn out fine, she offered it back to the rat. The rat sniffed, scrabbling limply at the chunk with its fingerlike claws. Her fingers were pinched together at the furthest end nonetheless.

She sneaked her other hand to the side, inching the tip of her index finger toward the rat’s head. It had decided to seize the cheese chunk more forcefully; Yvette’s time was now. She closed the handspan. The fur was coarse to the touch, but not as ragged or dirty as she was expecting–but then the rat turned its head in the direction of her cheeseless hand. Yvette squeaked, yanked everything back, abandoning the cheese.

“Oh my god,” Yvette said, to the air or the rat or to the rat charmer. Whoever was inclined to answer first.

A soft laugh was surprised from Malachite’s lips at her reaction, and they didn’t bother to hold onto the rat as it squeaked and scrabbled after the abandoned cheese. She’d done better than Malachite expected, but she was still terrified of the small rat as so many others on the train seemed to be. It took only a few moments for the rat to finish off its cheese, and no longer being held by Malachite it lost some of its thrall and quickly scurried away, back to whatever recess it came from. “You did well. Still rather scared, but amusing, nonetheless. I would suggest not leaving your bag on the ground, though. He might still be hungry.”

[malchemist]

@nickdalton​:

“Fuck!” The sound of breaking glass seemed exceptionally louder in the empty subway car. Or nearly empty. Nickel hadn’t noticed the fey sitting on the other side of the car when he’d come in. Too busy texting the senator the information he’d found out at the party he’d just been to. The queen wasn’t the only one who had Nickel spying. With the senator it was strategy. Kept him in the loop despite all his activities that were aimed at pushing the senator’s buttons. He might be trying to get out from under his party boy reputation but he wasn’t completely over wanting to piss his dad off. Tonight he looked every inch the party boy. Right down to the bottle of expensive liquor broken at his feet, his shoes and pants wet from it. “It slipped,” he told Mal with a crooked grin and a slight shrug. “So hot date or wild party, which one has you out at this hour.” Nickel couldn’t resist messing with the older fey as he stepped over the mess he’d just made to sit beside Mal.

Malachite was used to being alone at this time of night, or if there were any other subway-goers, they were just as inclined to stick to themselves. Unluckily for Mal, it seemed they’d chosen the one car that Nickel just so drunkenly stumbled into, and, rather quickly, made a giant mess of. Snorting softly, they pulled up the lapel of their jacket to further curl into, and hope Nickel found something more interesting to play with that night, “Does it matter? It seems you had enough of both for the night.”

[malchemist]

do you feel lucky-- || Jasper&Mal

[malchemist]

jasperxrebel:

“Maybe you care about sparing me, but you’re also stuck with me.” Jasper’s biological family hadn’t exactly worked out as planned, so he found a new one. By accident. Blood meant nothing. Families could be built. And in the midst of becoming an Unseelie, Jasper found Mal and they had become a parental figure. Funny how the pieces fell into place. “Nothing major. I didn’t hear from you in a while which could only mean you were doing the whole isolation thing.” This wasn’t the first time Mal had done this and Jasper was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Of course, Jasper was well up into the night for a myriad of reasons that were better left behind closed lips.

A child didn’t tell their parent everything after all - for Jasper his secrets were tied to his life. 

“Damn, and here I thought I’d be free of you after you learned all you could about the ‘Freaky Magician.” Malachite had been called many things over the years, but none made them chuckle as readily as the things both Lark and Jasper would come up with when they thought Mal wasn’t listening. Malachite had done their best to remain separate from the other fey of the Court, choosing to push away their past and become something different, something new, and along the way had gained a small brood of young fey who seemed to think Mal was worth something. “Isolation is the name of the game, sprout. It’s when I think of my best ideas.” They spared Jasper a quick glance, “And yet, you seem to be in the same state of affairs. Care to share why you really sought me out?”

[malchemist]

time will tell || Raven & Mal

[malchemist]

wintershcde:

Morning was coming to pass. Raven had long since been ensconced in the general holy debauchery of Beltaine, dropping sardonic quips while Hyacinth laughed and baptized the unenthusiastic Shadow with flower petals, but he wouldn’t see his or any other bed yet. The facts remained: a Seelie had been murdered, neither court was any closer to naming the culprit, Unseelie elixirs had been involved, and their alchemist had simply… disappeared. 

Or tried to. Raven had begun to keep tabs on Mal with genuine interest beyond obligation when a pattern began to develop. This issue hinted at being something more serious than the actions of an eccentric introvert and Raven had no qualms about surveying someone close to him – Malachite was not vanishing for nothing, he’d figured that much in tracking them, but what exactly was distracting them from their crucial work (something Raven had once thought impossible) remained unknown. And how Raven hated not to know. 

Which was why he was there, eyes narrowed and now-useless coat slung over one arm (the vestiges of a stubborn refusal to submit to the coming of spring) as the Shadow watched the dawn break over a familiar figure shifting against their bench. He wouldn’t wait any longer. Who, after all, ever gained anything waiting for answers to materialize from nothing when they were ripe for the taking? 

“Absent for several weeks, a major celebration, and a perfectly good orgy,” Raven prefaced dryly as he rounded the bench, let Malachite see him, “Am I supposed to believe this is where you come to get away from it all?” 

Ah, the Shadow.

Malachite wasn't even surprised by Raven's voice speaking up behind them as he crossed into view. It was only a matter of time before Raven would find his way to Malachite's sides on one of these trips. Once a shadow, always a shadow. Even if a hundred years had passed from then till now--and Malachite had gotten sloppy. They saw that now. Had forgotten Beltaine would be falling upon them sooner rather than later, and the absence of an Archfey would go noticed--especially by a Shadow.

Malachite had gotten sloppy.

For over a century they'd tucked her away into small, unforgettable cottages, and homes, and facilities. Doing their best to keep her healthy, and happy, and taken care of, while doing their own duties for the Court--but time was falling short. The centuries Mal had imagined they had left to come up with a solution (the same one they'd been working towards since that first look into empty eyes) were now nothing more than years, possibly months. Malachite still hadn't figured out what had changed, what made her situation go from stable to deteriorating, but that didn't matter. Only keeping her safe, and alive, and that had allowed Malachite to be /seen/ in a way they hadn't in a very long time.

"There's something to be said for the sunrises here." Curling their fingers around the strip of metal woven into their bracelet, they sent a smile towards the horizon, very pointedly not looking in the Shadow's direction, "After all, you’re here. When there are far more interesting things to be had back home.”

[malchemist]

whyvette:

Down in the deepest marrow of her bones, she felt a shudder. Yvette heard her own father’s voice: you don’t really know where that’s been, do you? But he’d said that about Fido. Ungroomed, unclipped, Fido looked like something that trotted out from underneath an upturned trash can (it was part of his charm, Yvette believed, rigid in her loyalty), but there had been genuine concerns raised: rabies, lice, fleas, distasteful worms. But the rat charmer didn’t seem upset or worried by any of this. They’d declared the rat free of such things. 

Yvette swallowed. She extended three fingers, then hesitated, pulling back. She looked at the stranger, trying to divine any sort of course or motive. She wetted her lip just so slightly, with the very tip of her tongue. “Should I … should I have food?” she asked. The nervous waver in her voice was comically embarrassing. This is a farce, as her mom would say whenever something absurd happened to her. Yvette, on the other hand, always wanted to believe.

Malachite couldn’t help the low chuckle that left them as she hesitated, inquiring about food in a way that showed just how young she was. (Although to a fey several centuries old, everyone was young to them.) The rat was complacent, at ease with a stomach filled with cheese, and the calming affect of a creature at one with the earth, but that didn’t stop Mal from offering her a chunk of cheese as well. An olive branch from the frightened child to the innocuous rat that would go back to being as misbehaved and miscreant the second Malachite let it go, “Go on. Give it a whirl.”

[malchemist]

elise-senfuit:

“Did you - you missed that, right?” she asked, wanting to confirm that they, indeed, HAD not seen Elise yelling at some random stranger in the middle of the subway. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened but … she also didn’t need any feys knowing about her stupid impulse decisions ( not that she had been wise at hiding them ). Her eyes glanced at their book, wondering on how Earth they managed to READ on the subway, especially at a time like this.  More than that, where were they going? The court player had more questions than answers. 

“Where you headed?” 

“Which answer would you prefer?” Malachite might’ve only seen bits and pieces of the affair, but the way she was acting was all too familiar with a person having done something wrong and not wanting to be found out about it. Not like Malachite would say anything. The Players weren’t their realm to care about, and if they wanted to act out--so be it. Malachite wouldn’t get involved if they could help it. Raising a brow at the question, they couldn’t help the faintest of smirks from curling on their lips, “Home. Where else?”

[malchemist]

let sleeping dogs-- || Lark&Mal

[malchemist]

fuisecg:

          It didn’t look away but her gaze caught the slight movement of the dog’s tail from it’s spot beside the coffee table as if waiting for her to do something. But all she felt was her body completely freeze up and want to disappear to the point where no one even knew she’d been there in the first place. Not one, but two sets of eyes now watched her every move and dissected everything that was wrong with her as if they knew how to fix it all. Her only solution was unattainable and another, it was sure to be the death of her if she were to seal away her voice where it would never be heard again. A fine line that she walked was becoming increasingly harder and Malachite wasn’t making it any easier as she pressed her lips together. “That can’t be right,” she murmured as it moved it’s head towards the sound of her voice even more than before but she couldn’t put the lie to her lips and speak the words that she wasn’t in distress. “And what if I don’t want to read them? Will you take it back wherever it came from?” Though even as she spoke, Lark did what she’d seen and done hundreds of times to plenty of dogs before and held out her shaking fingers for the dog to sniff them, but careful to keep from touching it’s nose or fur.

Malachite was aware that this wouldn’t be the magical cure-all for Lark’s situation. They’d been around for too long, and seen far too many people fall prey to their own vices to know that a fluffy mutt wasn’t enough to override everything that went on up top. But--it was a start. It was something that wasn’t singing, or the bar, or Mal’s elixirs. It was something new, and hopefully better. Mal watched as she held out a trembling hand for the dog to sniff, and forced themself to look away and focus on something else for fear of letting the emotion bubbling in their chest spill over. “They don’t take returns.” Shifting they headed into the kitchen to do something that wasn’t simply standing there, “Now put on some pants, so we can buy it ridiculous sweaters, and food, and whatever else it is people spoil their animals with.”

[malchemist]

do you feel lucky-- || Jasper&Mal

[malchemist]

jasperxrebel:

“I would try if you’d let me,” Jasper replied with a shrug before letting his arms settle across his chest. He knew a thing or two about demons, perhaps not the same extent as Mal, but they lingered beneath the surface and whispered to him from time to time. Wars had not aged and burdened him, but secrets had, especially the ones that could cost his life. Jasper wasn’t ready to die. Perhaps he had taken this form of Fey mortality for granted. 

“I don’t mind,” Jasper said as he stepped forward, casting his gaze out to the night sky. “The weather is rather pleasing.”

“I care about you far too much, sprout, to subject you to the inner workings of my mind.” Pushing up from the railing, untangling themself from their thoughts, they shifted their full focus on the young fey before them. “And what troubles you, to seek me, all they way out here?” Malachite would have to be blind not to miss the darkened circles around Jasper’s eyes, the benefit, Mal supposed, of watching the fey grow up. But that didn’t necessarily mean Jasper would share his inner thoughts with Mal, just as Mal was wary of sharing their own. The stories that followed Mal around were enough to amuse and placate other’s curiosity, and that was good enough for them. For now. “I have it on good authority your apartment has just as good a view.”

[ilyagrigoryevichhollander]

Alfonso Herrera - Open México de abril

[malchemist]

whyvette:

Just an eyebrow–Yvette winced, smiled tightly, and got the message. An interrogation would be unwelcome. That made sense. Under ordinary circumstances she wouldn’t want strangers talking to her on the train, either. Slowly, she swung her feet to the floor again, settling her bag on her knees. (After checking.)

“It was cool, though,” she said meekly, one side of an inner debate winning out. Yvette tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. Fido sometimes snagged rats, birds, the like, and she worried, needlessly as it turned out, about disease. She wondered how they knew, how to tell. All rats, and in her experience the rats were mostly dead, looked more or less the same to her. “Thank you.” 

Malachite’s eyebrow lowered at the wince on the young girl’s face, sure she got the message that there was only so much conversation the fey was up to at that particular moment. When she started to unfurl herself from her seat, the fear that had scattered throughout the cabin dimming as people reacquainted themselves with their lost items, Mal figured that was that. And yet, she continued.

Mal’s eyebrow returned its upward climb and they sent her a faintly amused look as they continued to scratch under the rats chin, “No thanks necessary.” After a moment, that look included a faint smirk as they lifted the rat in their hands and held it out to her, “Want to pet?”

[malchemist]

elise-senfuit:

Elise tried to avoid trouble ( key word: tried ). However, there was only so much patience she had and the drunk stranger sneering at some poor woman on the subway, his comments mocking her, weren’t something she could tolerate. The court player intervened, trying to shut him down except the argument merely escalated. People quickly began to take notice, some even joining in. Thankfully, it wasn’t long until the drunkard stormed off at the next stop ( the crowd slowly unwinding from the commotion ). In the midst of it, she finally noticed the other fey. Had he been here the entire time? Awkward. 

“Uh, hey.” 

Malachite prided themself on going unnoticed these days. It’s what had allowed them to survive so long within the confines of the Court, but there were days where they wanted nothing more than to stand up and smash someone’s face into the plexiglass of the Subway window until there was nothing left. Rubbing at their brow, staving off the impending headache, they turned their attention back to the book in their hand and missed the intervention of Elise and the it was only the absent of drunken shouting that brought Malachite’s attention back to the train as a whole. Blinking at the attempt at conversation they raised a brow, “Hello...fancy meeting you here.”