Oct 29, 2018
A Little Help [TXT]
@my-high-maintenance-world
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A Little Help [TXT]
@my-high-maintenance-world
This Belongs to You || Tara & Mathis
Seeing Xera off had been bitter sweet. She understood why her sister was leaving, but Tara had only really just started to get to know her sister. The gap in time between Xera leaving the first time and her coming back was substantial and they’d been teenagers. To say they had not gotten along would have been an understatement. Tara had been used to being an only child when Xera came back and they hadn’t really understood each other. Tara was out going and happy, Xera less so.
She got it, though. She understood why Xera was giving up the shop and why she’d chosen to skip out on the supernatural town. Bodies were dropping like flies and Xera had been through enough. Amos’ death had been hard enough but Oliver’s quick departure and now Alex? Tara couldn’t say she wouldn’t ghost if she hadn’t been in her sister’s place. She’d seemed okay, when they had exchanged their goodbyes at the airport, though, so that was really good. Alex’s death had hit Xera hard, but it seemed she was unwilling to let it get her down. Tara was proud of her sister.
Just before Xera went through security, she had asked Tara to do her a favor, which was why she was standing outside an apartment she’d never been to, knocking on the door. The silver cross was wrapped in simple gauze and stuffed into her back pocket. She had asked her sister about it, when she’d told her to give it back to Mathis, but Xera hadn’t gone into any detail and it annoyed her. She’d been under the impression, given the nature of their interaction and the ban on the shop, that Xera hated Mathis, how and why she had a necklace that belonged to him failed to compute.
@mathis-savoie
Smashed || Declan & Mathis
When Declan had walked into the Gaslight a couple hours ago, conversations had faltered and every head had turned. By now Mathis realized there’d been more to that than simply the way the man was dressed. Another patron had picked up on the young bartender’s questioning looks and had been kind enough to fill him in. Joining them tonight was none other than Declan Andrews, Spiritvale’s assistant district attorney and, even more notably, Rayne’s right-hand man.
It was unusual to see him outside the Boathouse or the ring, which would explain why Mathis hadn’t recognized him. He’d never spent enough time in either of those places for their paths to cross, but maybe it was just as well. Declan clearly hadn’t come here to chitchat, so Mathis hadn’t bothered him beyond taking his initial order and starting his tab. Even as said tab was getting a bit on the astronomical side… well. That was just par for the course where wolves were concerned.
He tried not to think on it much as he split his attention between other customers, doing Declan the favor of ignoring him as long as his glass wasn’t empty. Alas, it seemed like every ten or fifteen minutes he was topping him off. They were nearly at the bottom of the second bottle he’d opened for him when Declan told him to just leave it. Mathis couldn’t say he was surprised, exactly, but he did pause a moment, mainly to consider logistics.
There were about two rounds left in the bottle. But considering how much the man had already had to drink, and how much he was going to be paying for whiskey that was honestly mediocre at best, it felt petty to be worrying about it. That’s why, after a small shrug, he refilled Declan’s glass, then did as he was told, setting the bottle on the bar. Yet before he uncurled gloved digits from its base, he asked, “You want me to hang up your jacket for you? You look like you’re gettin’ hot.”
It was nice, the silence of the bar. No one stopped to talk to him, though a few heads turned in his direction. No one felt the need to stop and say hi or even offer to buy him a drink. Thank the fucking gods. He loved the boathouse, it was a great bar with a lively crowd, but he knew all the people in there. They all stopped to shoot the shit, which was a terrible expression, but no matter. This bar was different. Sure, he got looks. A hush had descended upon the sleeping tavern when he’d first shown up, shock evident in their behavior. He didn’t really understand why, it wasn’t like he didn’t have his dealings with Axel, plus, as far as all of them knew, he was still co-owner of the ring. He was hardly there on District Attorney biz.
The bartender, a skinny witch with a set of eyes Declan hadn’t had the pleasure of noticing before, said nothing as he ran up his tap. He was sitting there in an Armani suit, he could fucking afford a bar tab. That wasn’t an issue and he appreciated the guy’s silence, even if, he could the look of unsureness as he asked for the bottle. Declan had no idea what he was unsure of and honestly, he gave no shits about what the guy thought, either.
The bottle was placed beside his glass, but the hand... gloved as it was (odd but okay) hadn’t let go of the bottle. Declan glanced up at him, his own motion pausing to glance up at him. He cocked an eyebrow at the question and then looked down at his jacket. “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Sure, why not.” The glass clinked on the bartop and he stood, slightly tilting for a second in the shift from sitting to standing (this is what he told himself, anyway) and undid the jacket so that he could hand it over. “Thanks,” he said simply as the dark blue material was held out to the other guy.
@mathis-savoie
Sneaking Out || Xera & Mathis
She’d paid for her books long before she sat down to read them. Xera had always thought it was rude of her customers to read her books only to put them back on the shelf. So instead, she felt the need to break the cycle. She’d bought the books on homeopathic medicine and sat in a small chair sipping her coffee while she read about what kinds of herbs could give her energy. She’d given it some thought, of course, but after her moment of clarity on the balcony at the Yule Ball, Xera started to give more thought to the practicality of herbs.
She’d never really been that good with them, that had always been Demitri’s area of expertise, but she felt like she could at least make a go of figuring out other ways to make herself feel better. She’d tried everything she could think of, but as her magic was what she’d always relied on, nothing was working. Oliver had wanted her to see a specialist but she’d fought him on it. Now that he was gone, she had no reason to entertain the idea. Modern medicine and Xeraphin did not mix and she would not be mixing it if she could help it.
The shop was silent as she read, her mind focusing on information that mostly went in one ear and out the other. She would need to focus a bit more on understanding what it was she was reading but it was a good starting point. She recognized some of the names of the plants, knew that Demitri had them or that Etta’s did. Either way, she could get her hands on a few of the herbs that she read about. She hoped they would be enough to cure her of whatever this ailment was. Her energy and magic were almost gone and her body felt frail, like a dried out leaf in the wind.
The bell overhead sounded and she looked up, expecting to see a patron entering the shop but instead caught the back of the boy that had sat in the corner of the shop, sleeping. She leveled a glare at the back of his head and scooped up her books, deciding in a moment of annoyance that she would confront this boy.
She was not typically a confrontational person, but her annoyance, spurred on by the incessant chatter in the back of her head that seemed completely focused on him pulled her from her seat and out the door, her bag hitting the back of her thigh as she went.
“Hey,” she called out to him. “Where ya goin in such a hurry? You should probably pay for whatever it is you took.” Her voice was loud and harsh anger and hate clear in the words as she followed him. She was being a bitch and she knew it. She didn’t care.
@mathis-savoie
Cobwebs | Theron & Mathis
theronathansios:
Theron raised a questioning eyebrow at the young man who all but stumbled over the threshold in his embarrassment. The man was young and apparently had a penchant for including a great deal of black leather in his wardrobe. Not the usual type of customer he dealt with, but in all fairness New Orleans thrived on being wholly unusual so perhaps it wasn’t as surprising as it seemed. The antiques dealer held up a finger to let the young man know that he would be with him in a moment.
“Alright - thank you very much Signore, until next time,” Theron said in Italian as he jotted down the name and number of the man’s German contact who was likely in possession of the book he was looking for. He hung up the phone and turned back around to focus on the young man who was standing near a shelf, awkwardly perusing the items.
“Sorry about that,” Theron apologized, pinching the bridge of his nose to help ward off the headache building there. “It’s been a - trying day. You said you were looking at one of the window pieces, yes?”
Mathis’ studded black leather jacket was a statement piece for sure - and the statement it made was ‘almost definitely local.’ No one but someone well-accustomed to this climate could possibly be comfortable in a such a heavy attire in summer. It appeared Theron’s visitor was even wearing gloves, though the more the antiques dealer observed him, the sooner he’d realize the young man was wearing just one glove, not two. In spite of his odd outfit, Mathis nodded quickly when Theron indicated that he would be just a moment longer and politely busied himself elsewhere. He wandered slowly around the store feigning interest in this piece or that only to soon find himself well and truly engrossed.
Theron’s apology registered only distantly. Tearing his focus away from an exquisite bronze sculpture, the witch blinked owlishly at the shop owner before remembering the reason for his visit, “Oh- Yes. It was… It’s a ring, actually. I think there’s only one in the window but if you have others like it maybe I could see them, too..?” He took a few steps in the direction of the display but waited for Theron to take the lead. To his credit, he seemed to have some semblance of manners. He hadn’t touched anything since walking in the door, and if he realized he was the reason for the other’s growing headache, he didn’t draw attention to it.
Still. Why he wanted to see yet another ring when he was already wearing five (that could be seen) was anyone’s guess. He also had at least two bracelets and a necklace. Apparently no one had ever told him less was more.
@theronathansios
Thunder | Open
It was a violently stormy night in the French Quarter and as a result, the distillery was rather quiet. Acoustic music played across the sound system, backed by the sound of the driving rain and crashing thunder, and customers sparsely dotted the room. Most servers bemoaned slow nights like these, but the truth of the matter was that Mathis didn’t mind them. On the contrary it was in the minutes between drink orders, often late at night, that he found the time to take inventory, wash glasses, restock bottles, and generally prepare for the day ahead. He might even manage the odd conversation with a patron seated at the bar, though he tended to field vastly more unabashed staring than witty banter.
The Savoie endeavored to be friendly. Truly he did, but he had a way of unnerving people, particularly humans. Perhaps it was his almost unnaturally bright eyes, or the single black glove he always wore. He’d considered both options (plus a dozen more, besides) because hardly anyone he waited on could guess at his true nature. That ignorance was both a blessing and a barrier, but even if no deeper connection was needed to open a tab and pour a round, the witch sometimes couldn’t help but fixate on certain things. Specifically, the fact that he’d once nearly escaped this city, and the legacy he’d inherited along with his name - a legacy that would’ve been better off washed away by the rain.
It was six years ago that he’d slipped away on a blustery night much like this one, traveling from one coast clear to the other only to end up right back where he started. Some days it felt like he had a heavier heart and shorter chain than ever, and it was with a certain amount of envy that he looked upon a nearby table of college students, mirthful, careless, and apparently oblivious to the raging storm. They were roughly the same age as he was - but that was likely the extent of the similarities between them. Suddenly, the distillery door swung open, amplifying the sound of the pouring rain. Stirred from his musings, Mathis was grateful to redirect his attention to the figure that now stood, dripping wet, in the threshold.
“Nice weather we’re having,” the ironic greeting was offered as the door swung shut behind the new arrival, and already the bartender was reaching for a clean dish towel, “Here. It’s not much but you can dry off a little with this.”
Cobwebs | Theron & Mathis
theronathansios:
Theron’s lip curled in distaste.
He’d just finished shooing out some woman who’d come into his store with the intent to sell off her moldering brass statuettes to him. He’d nastily shoved the box back across the counter at them, nearly upending the contents onto the floor as he gave her directions to the nearest pawn shop. Most people familiar with the Quarter by now knew better than to come to him with such mediocre products, but there was the odd bird here and there who thought that they could outwit him and pawn off their junk to the antique dealer.
Huffing in disgust again after making sure the woman had left the store with only the items she’d brought with her he turned his back to the door to the spread of papers lining the counter. One of his regular clients had requested he seek out a particularly rare book and it was proving to be a more difficult task than he’d first anticipated - but if it was one thing Theron loved, it was a challenge. His best lead thus far was waiting on hold, having been put there by the junk-woman’s rude intrusion, and Theron quickly returned his attention to the call, apologizing in flawless Italian to the man on the other line.
It was proving a fruitful exchange - the elderly gentleman, a bibliophile from Assisi excitedly told him that while he himself did not possess the tome, he knew precisely who to ask for it. Theron’s joy at the revelation was short-lived however, when he heard his shop door open again and he sighed.
“Scusa, un momento per favore, Signore,” he apologized again. Thankfully his Italian contact was an amiable sort and was more than happy to wait on hold again until Theron’s business was done. The former hunter school his face back into a neutral expression as he turned to greet the newcomer. “Hello. Is there anything in particular that I can help you with this evening?”
About half a block from Athanasios Antiques, Mathis had crossed paths with a rather indignant-looking woman ferrying an only half-closed box of trinkets. The cache was tucked possessively under one of her arms, a bit like a football, and the witch might’ve mentioned that she was about to lose something out of it had it not been for her brisk pace and sour expression. So instead of opening his mouth, he simply got out of her way, arriving at his destination about a minute after nearly being bowled over on the sidewalk. He pushed open the door only to grimace as he realized he was interrupting.
Initially, he avoided eye contact with the man on the phone in an effort to indicate that he was in no hurry, but Theron extricated himself (albeit temporarily) from the call to address him nevertheless. Acting almost as though he’d been caught some place he shouldn’t be, an apologetic smile flickered across the Savoie’s face. Stepping further into the store, he explained, “I was hoping to look at some jewelry - um, there’s actually been a particular piece in the window for the past couple weeks now - but it can wait till you’re finished. I’ve never been in before-” As though that much wasn’t perfectly obvious. “-I’ll just look around till you’re finished.”
@theronathansios
Outside of Town || Lachlan + Mathis
The voice mail Mathis had left on his phone only hours ago had served to shock and terrify him all in a matter of seconds. The range of emotions he’d gone through simply because of a single sentence had not been one of his finer moments, but he wasn’t willing to admit that to anyone but himself. Mathis certainly didn’t need to know that a simple statement about meeting someone could force Lachlan into a dizzying panic so strong he’d had to listen to the voice mail three more times before the sick feeling in his stomach finally abated.
The whole message had been so much better than Lachlan had first realized but it had taken him some time to process what it was his boyfriend was saying. The final I love you at the end, though, that sent a completely different twisting through his body. He’d once heard it explained as butterflies. Perhaps that was an appropriate explanation, though the idea of having butterflies in his stomach was not all that appealing.
It’d taken him three days to get from the edge of the Canadian border down to a town just outside of New Orleans. He wasn’t willing to attempt to cross the border into that particular city. Not now, not ever. Not even for the man he loved. Lachlan had already come face to face with a set of hunters when he lived in Chicago he was none too eager to do it again. Mathis was sadly on his own in the town of terror. Lachlan could only stay nearby and wait for Mathis to join him.
He pulled the bike into a spot at the little motel. Not the nicest place around but it served it’s purpose and was decent looking. The main thing was that their curtains were nice and dark, allowing for a vampire to stay safe in the daytime. A daylight ring was a rare thing for his kind and showing off that he had one was not on his agenda. Besides, sleeping during the day was still very much something he needed regardless of his ability to actually stand in the daylight.
With the engine killed on the bike and the kickstand down, Lachlan pulled the helmet from his head. He slid from the bike allowing him to set the helmet on the seat so that he could run a hand through his hair. Trying to tame the wild blonde locks was never easy after several hours in a sweaty helmet so instead, he pulled it back and tied it in a small pony. After he’d situated himself a bit in the parking lot, he pulled the phone from his back pocket and sent a message to Mathis.
[[Text]]: Here.
@mathis-savoie