#casey banning

[cadaver1ne]

some gift art of the bannings for @alicekassieoak and @skruffie who went and got married when i had my back turned. a very belated congratulations !!

[captainjanegreene]

At Long Last

Jane had abandoned unpacking her cargo for the moment.  Her attention had been stolen by the window in her new study.  She hadn’t been certain if she’d wanted one, paranoia insisting it was just another entry point for assassination attempts, but the Bannings had come through with the armored shutters.  She could look out at the spires of the Bazaar, and the city beyond, freely.

She wasn’t completely certain how she felt about that either.  London had never treated her gently, but it was also the home of all the things she loved most in the world.  Certainly her daughter had thrived here, finding love and influence and having the freedom to carry out good works.  Casey was here as well, and though Jane knew better than anyone how ambiguous their relationship to the city was as a whole, it had treated them better than the rest of the Neath.  And of course, the great menagerie of companions and pets that she had previously left in Elizabeth’s care was here, and had been happy to receive her return.

Jane supposed that she would have to take comfort in that.  Her old connections, old allies, were all but withered on the vine; she had been forced to leave the city with some amount of haste, and it was only with great care that her public return had been allowed by her enemies.  It rankled, but she would need to let those enemies be for now.  She was here to look after and support her daughter while she was pregnant, and support her after the birth.  It struck her that, for the first time in decades, she would be able to be a genuine maternal presence in Elizabeth’s life.

She dashed the tears away from her good eye, and returned to unpacking.  She had already arranged for the storage or sale of the more dangerous items from her collection with Roland.  What was left was knick-knacks and baubles.  Weapons, some outfits.  Fashion had always been a tertiary concern for her, but she had still accumulated a trunk full of formal wear, suitable for the courts of either the Khanate or the Continent.  Much of it had been discreetly modified, either to accommodate her prosthetic arm, or to conceal further weaponry.  A coral-carved chess-piece gave her momentary pause, before she set it upon her new desk.  Perhaps she could have a game or two with Roland later.

Finally, she reached the bottom of the trunk, and the flask.  As she grasped it, she thought back to her time at Zee.  By all rights, she shouldn’t have survived it.  She was cunning, certainly.  Tough and willful, provably.  But the Zee had claimed many with such virtues.

She could certainly credit the contents of the flask with saving her life many times.  But its presence here and now...

She stowed it back away.  Perhaps she should speak to Roland about storing it somewhere safer.  Later, though.  Once she felt that she could get by without it.

She turned to the window and closed the armored shutters, bolting them closed.  It was almost time for dinner; for the first time in years, she could settle down with Casey and Elizabeth and Roland, without her imminent departure casting a pall over proceedings.

In spite of herself, she smiled.

[captainjanegreene]

At Long Last

@caseybanning They wavered, still looking away from Jane with an expression of unease. “They received a fair bit of education the first night they were here,” They said, and then shrugged. “The last time they saw me on the Surface was when I was still presenting… well,” They swept an arm out to gesture to Jane’s outfit. “We didn’t reach a full understanding, but they are tentatively trying to remember to call me by my name now.”

Casey smiled again, albeit a bit strained. “It’s not painful, it’s just new. Not any more painful than it could be. We both know that.”

“I suppose that’s true.  I hope after seeing more of London they’ll understand how little something like this...”  She gestures at her own dress, and nods at Casey. “...matters in the grand scheme of the cosmos.  Certainly not worth judging, compared to everything else out there... Compared to how important it is to love the people in our lives for who they are.”

She briefly embraces Casey in a hug, bending and kissing the the side of their head... proving a bit too tall to bend further with any grace.

[captainjanegreene]

The Returned Captain, Jane Greene.  Her long and repeated voyages across the Zee have come to an end for now.  Perhaps, in time, she might find some measure of peace.

(Art by the impeccable orz pekliczko,  [email protected] )

[cadaver1ne]

GUESS WHO DID A COMIC

@skruffie and I were discussing possibly less-terrible character shit with our fallen london ocs and this turned up as they’re both a part of God’s Editors, which are a group of people tasked with editing the bible to address neathy things, like the real existence of real devils wandering around stealing people’s real physical souls

except cruz is catholic and casey is anglican so there’s some DIfferences Of Opinion™ despite the two being remarkably similar

anyway idk if this will ever be blogcanon but it was a fun time

[theambitiousoperative]

Homecoming ((RP Log))

Each step to their front door felt heavy, and as they walked, Casey ignored the growing sense of dread that was coiling in their gut. The weight of their luggage was bearing down more and more on their shoulders as they walked. It wasn't until they were within steps of the doorway when they remembered their long-lost house key, left behind somewhere ages in the past, and the force at which they remembered this fact stopped them dead in their tracks. It took a moment or two longer to also remember they could just knock, and the thought seemed quite silly: their sudden arrival, the anticipation of wondering who was behind that door, the liquor fumes--what a surprise it'd be.

They reached out toward the door and rapped on it with a few hard strikes, and then stepped back.

Roland had been having a late-night cup of tea, going over the cipher notes brought to him by one of the Teeth's agents. A knock, even if it were a desperate or foolish salesman, was welcome. It still had the possibility of being good news about Casey's arrival. He checked his nightclothes before heading to the door and checking.

"Hello?" He said, cracking open the door to look out.

His voice had to pass first through the haze of alcohol, and then the fog in their brain leftover from a long voyage and still settling back into a normal passing of time before it registered as familiar. Casey leaned into the direction of his gaze, peering through the crack in the door skeptically. "Hi?" They answered back, quickly straightening out their stance before they toppled over. "I'm, um.."

The door was opened, and Roland held out his arms, smiling. "You're home."

The facts settled into place: home, Roland, actually home, his nightshirt (Had he been sleeping?), realizing that the opening in his arms is an offer for an embrace, the recognition in his expression, all good signs. Even still, Casey moved slowly, as if afraid this was a trick, and then finally leaned forward into his arms. A few seconds more and their shoulders were relaxing, their arms wrapping up and across his back in a tight embrace. "I'm home," They said with a sigh.

"You're home, and you're safe. Let's get you some tea." He smelled the liquor and dock smells (was that a hint of thurible smoke?), but kept quiet about it. Coming home from any long trip was hard. The Iron Republic, moreso.

"There's already a pot by the table. I don't have to leave to get you any, and can stay with you if you like." Jasper bounded over to them, hopping up on his hind legs in brief bounces, his tongue lolling out.

"I'm not the only one happy to see you, it looks like. He's been by the door every night before bed."

"That would be nice," Casey said, flinching at Jasper's sudden movements when he came running up. They got over the startled feeling quickly, reaching down to scratch Jasper behind the ears. "Keeping you company, I hope?" They asked, cupping the dog's face with both hands. "Good boy! I missed you too!"

Jasper kissed Casey's hands, then sat down next to them, Roland laughed. "He's been doing his best." He poured them a cup of tea, and offered them a seat. "It's been a lonely few weeks without you, though."

Casey sat down, muttering a small "thank you" at the tea. They can't seem to meet Roland's gaze, and their hand is stirring a small spoon around in the cup of tea absent-mindedly. They're looking everywhere else though, as if trying to carefully memorize their surroundings and gauge exactly where they're at. When they finally do look up though, the expression on their face is almost frightened.

"Weeks?"

Roland's expression is soft, understanding. "Only here. I can't speak for there. If it was longer for you, it was, and I'm sorry for that."

Casey is looking at Roland's face with the same studious expression, trying to see if there's any possible detail about it that could be different. They look down at Jasper, who was happily laying down on the floor now, and then back up to Roland quickly, their skepticism washed over with understanding. The teacup rattles in it's saucer. "I thought it was months," They said weakly.

"Where you were, it was. You're not wrong. Not about what you endured. Here, it was about three weeks, close to four." He sat down next to them. "Not much has happened. New studies, a few salons, and Mary coming by to ask about you. I got your letters and sent replies, but I don't know if they were able to reach you."

He smiled at them. "You're home now, though. My light."

Casey set the teacup aside, suddenly feeling as if they might drop it. They lean forward to rest their face against their hands, slowing their breath down deliberately, and with great effort they finally reply back. "Thank god," They croak. "They did, your letters I mean--I wrote back, but I never knew if they reached you. Sometimes the letters on the page moved, or they shouted the words back and it was making me carefully consider everything I wrote. For a while." They look up. "I think I stopped writing at some point but I can't remember."

He touches their hand. "It's never easy to do the simplest things in that place. You have to fight to know yourself."

"You have to fight," They said, letting their voice trail off on the end. They hold onto Roland's hand, their thumb running over the bumps and curves of his fingers nervously. "And you've been there?"

“Only once." His voice wavered. "With any luck, never again. It takes time, teaching yourself that it's safe to wake up, to move, to breathe."

"Time hasn't been on my side the last few... weeks," Casey quickly responded. "I mean--aside from the Republic, I thought having time would create distance and distance would be enough for things to not be so, so complicated." They let go of Roland's hand to rub their face, struggling for the right words. "Like everything will hurt less, And then you come face to face with so many things, or familiar people, and if anything would make sense at all in that place--" they say those last words scornfully. "it would be that time doesn't heal wounds. Not for everybody."

"Time doesn't heal anything. You do that, and others help when you can't do it alone. And you don't have to do it in a day, a week, or even for the years you spend making it safe to start healing." He hugs them again, shaking. "I'm here for you every step of the way. Everyone in our family is."

Casey held onto him tightly, feeling his words float around in the haze still in their mind: healing, safe, family. Like a mantra. They could feel the stinging of tears threatening to start welling up in their eyes, but they blink them away. "I missed you so much," They finally said, their voice small. "I love you."

"I love you too." He kissed them, and held them close, stroking their hair. "I'm so glad you're home."

[alicekassieoak]

sfw 6, nsfw 4?

NSFW 4: Most unusual, or most daring? I'd say a cottage made out of a zee-znail shell is more unusual than a private opera box during a really boring performance, but it depends on how you view life in the neath.