Author Topic: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 32- Hail Rain or Sunshine  (Read 19152 times)

Offline LivvieLove

  • Queen of Mush
  • Watcher
  • ******
  • Posts: 2368
  • "Sh! Be quiet! The nutters are out to get me."
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 28- Close to You
« Reply #90 on: July 08, 2014, 04:27:07 PM »
I look forward to having those questions addressed! This story is at the climax and I'm like "noooo! I need to read more! What happens next!" Darn those cliffhanger endings.

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 29- Linger
« Reply #91 on: July 10, 2014, 06:35:59 AM »
I look forward to having those questions addressed! This story is at the climax and I'm like "noooo! I need to read more! What happens next!" Darn those cliffhanger endings.

I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to grab time for this. So many things coming and popping up. And, you say cliffhangers, but I'd call them enthusiastic interruptions. I know, it doesn't make sense. Hoho.

Get ready for information overload.  ;)


Oh, I thought the world of you.
I thought nothing could go wrong,
But I was wrong. I was wrong.
If you, if you could get by, trying not to lie,
Things wouldn't be so confused and I wouldn't feel so used,
But you always really knew, I just wanna be with you


Linger
Wrapped around your finger like The Cranberries

Azrael cupped the cold wind to his face, hoping that the chill will cleanse away the tension and the anxiety. Because whatever he was feeling, although he can't name or place it, he felt "Chagrined," he huffed and rubbed his hands together, after having shuffled through the word he learned from his fine friend in college, "What was his name?" He kept thinking as he walked, past the singing shore and dancing sand. It was odd that he didn't remember this old friend's name, a college friend in his new memory. He walked, still bothered by his failure to remember his supposed best friend, the one with corn hair, somewhere between the shade of bleached blonde and another blonde he can't name- It was no secret that the great Doctor Azrael Hawke was no fan of fashion and its antics. A name came to him, "Tony." But his best friend Tony, the one who fell into some unnamed rank during Azrael's Great Depression, had no idea where he was now, or that he was still alive, eccentric Azrael, always with his funny ideas and rabid displays of awkwardness. "That's right, Tony, my old man!" He delighted in this false, but what appealed to him as true, memory.

He was distracted by the crunch of the autumn leaves that lay scattered over the misty grass of the morning. His shoes were getting wet, but he didn't mind. He liked taking walks when he can. The sound was a delicious crisp, the wind a pleasant chill.



Azrael looked at the delicate flake of snow that fell to his hand, "Winter's coming." But in all his years in Sunlit Tides, there had been no winter, "Well, except maybe that one odd day. Last time." And last time, Garrett came to see him- tried to meet him. Winter seemed a natural thing to him, he remembered building snowmen, creative, artsy, mundane and random inspirations for the snowman army he built with his best friend. The one who kept him busy when things started to get suspicious. "Suspicious?" He didn't know where these sentiments were coming from. All his life, as he remembers it now, he lived a boring, if not entirely dull childhood. "Ah," he walked, smiling to himself, as he resumed his stroll- one that he was advised not to take.

"You're not supposed to go out alone, or go out at all!" He remembers one of the old ladies from the grocery tell him. "Why not, Mrs Grantham?" "Why not? It's simple, honey! You can get into accidents! You don't want your pretty wife crying over what remains of you after a tragedy!" "Well, it's not nice of you to say that, Annie," said the grocer. "Well, darlin' if you ask me, I'm darn right. I'm going to consider my opinion, if I were you, sweet roll." The old lay pinched Azrael's cheek and left  in a trot. "Take my word for it!" The old lady added before she finally disappeared through the door.



"Well," Azrael dug his hands deep in his jacket's pockets. "I am getting married. I should probably get going." But Azrael walked a distance he doesn't remember taking. He hadn't thought of bringing his van because he wanted to stroll. And everything looked unfamiliar. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that by some stroke of luck or magic, he would recognize this place. "I hadn't walked that long, or far. What the-" He didn't have the chance to finish complaining, because someone had bumped into him, making him lost his balance and fall. "Sir, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" The man asked, holding out his hand to help Azrael up. "No, no. It's alright. I'm alright," Azrael slowly got up, looking at the grass, slowly fading and turning gray.



Then white- a familiar white. Tiles. "Oh, no." "Doc, are you alright?" The man asked again and he looked at him. "You!" Azrael blurted out. "Is something wrong, Doc?" The man asked again. "Ah? What?" Azrael looked at the man, then at his own hands and his feet. He looked at what he can muster seeing. He was in his hospital garb. He was at the hospital. "Ah, how long have I been here?" "Since the start of your shift? I bumped into you. Are you alright?" "Yes, I'm. I'm fine, Doctor, ah-" Azrael looked at the man's name plate, "Easter." "A? I call you "Doc" and you start calling me Doc, too? I was just trying it out. You've always called me Easter. Just Easter is fine, you know." Azrael looked at the man, confused. "I'm not sure I understand? This is the first time I've seen you?" "No jokes, man. I've had a long day." The corn-haired man patted his shoulder lightly and said, "Well, I gotta run. I've got a patient waiting for me. After that, I'm out." "Tony?" "Ah, no. Your wedding jitters are disturbing. It's not normal. Go see Aveline, why don't you? She can help you. I mean come on. You're family and all. All you have to do is walk straight and turn left. Well, not that you already know." Azrael doesn't know. He has no idea of what this man who calls himself Easter was talking about. And Aveline? Who the heck is Aveline? And as if Easter heard what he was thinking, the man said, "She's your sister. Man, are you disturbed."



Azrael gathered himself and walked to the direction Easter pointed. "It's not like I'm planning to meet this Aveline." He walked and walked in what seemed an endless corridor. "I'm dreaming," he said, but he kept walking. And for the second time he crossed paths with the man who calls himself Easter. "Doc, ah-" But the man only passed by him, as if he didn't hear, nor see Azrael. "Hey!" Nothing. Azrael turned to see the him, but he disappeared. "I'm really dreaming." He decided to look for this Aveline, opening every door he passed, only to see empty rooms- whitewashed, concealing every crack and gap in its wall, "Whitewashed." There were nothing inside the rooms. On it went, and Azrael started to panic. He wanted to wake from his dream, he wished it were. But he couldn't. He was trapped. There was no way out of this, except maybe finding this Aveline.



So, Azrael walked. Slowly, this time. Cautious of every step he took. But however hard he tried, he couldn't find her. There were no stairs, no elevators. "No left turns," he uttered. It was an endless maze of a straight corridor and empty doors. "Maybe, maybe I should explore those rooms." Because he didn't. He opens each door, finds them empty, and closes them. Now he's confused by all the doors he's closed and opened but can't distinguish. "So..." He sat on the floor, with his back against the wall. "This is worse than sleep paralysis," he tried to humor himself. "So, Doc, what will you do now?" He pulled his legs close to him, bent, and rested his chin on his knees. He closed his eyes. And he can't remember how long he's kept them so.

Tip.

Tap.

Tip.



Azrael dozed off, and was awakened by the light click and pat of shoes against the floor. He slowly opened his eyes and looked to the right. Nobody. He looked to the left. There was nobody. The corridor lights started to dim. "This is just a dream. A puzzle. I'm stressed. Yes, it's just stress," he consoled himself. He's never had dreams for a long time, only memories. He put his hands on his face and felt the oil and grease. He felt the sweat on his face, and he was disgusted.



"Love?" He heard a woman's voice. She was talking to him. He doesn't know why or how he thought so, but he knew. He knew that it was him she was calling.

"Aveline?" He said as he looked up, at the woman who stood beside him. But the woman didn't hear. Instead, she said, "Honey, why are you sitting there? Poor baby. Come here, stand up and let's go to my office." He stood up but it wasn't his hand the woman was holding. She was holding a little boy's hand.

"Nana. Where have you been? I looked all over for you!"



To his surprise, the boy looked down at him, Azrael felt a chill that was unlike earlier.



"I'm sorry, dear. Didn't I tell you to wait for me in my office? I promised you I'll be with you when you get your immunity shot taken."  "But you were taking so long! So I walked around a bit. And then I met this man, he had yellow hair that looked like corn. Or wheat. He was interesting. He's funny, I think. I like him." "Do you know this nice man's name?" "Ah, no. But he was wearing a gown, like you. Maybe he's a doctor here." "We'll see. Did you thank him?" "Yes, I thanked him! You taught me to say thank you, so I did!" "But I also taught you not to talk to strangers, didn't I?" "Yes. I'm sorry." "It's alright, dear. You're safe so that's enough. But promise me you won't wander around again." "Okay, Nan. I promise! I love you! I'm sorry!" The woman giggled. "Forgiven. Now, let's get you that shot." "But I already had it! "Oh, did you? Let me see-"



Azrael followed the two, as they turned left and reached a room at the far end. "They can't see me?" But he was as material as everything in this place. A man even bumped into him earlier, before he found himself getting up the hospital floor. "They really can't see me." He came in normally, opening the door, and found himself a seat on the couch. And then he stared at the boy's face, who started singing, "Every story has a beginning, a middle, and end... I'm stuck on chapter one." "Come on now, that story can wait." "Come on, Nan. I can't wait." "But this is no place to be story-telling, darling." "But you promised that you'll finish the story!" "Another time, dear. Another time." "Pssh. Not fair, Nan." "Don't 'pssh" me, Azrael. No matter how sweet you are when you do it." "But, Naaaan!" "Come, now. I still have things to finish. My shift will be over in a while." "Not fair," then he started singing again.

Azrael knew this kid. It was him. But the woman? "Nana?" Straight ahead, then turn left. "Go see Aveline, why don't you?" Azrael sat there for a while, staring at the younger him and the woman whom he thinks is the person the the corn-haired man calls Aveline, and his younger self calls Nana. He sat there staring, and trying to remember this scene. He tried remembering other days in the hospital- a different hospital. But he can't remember anything.



"Hello, Mister." The younger him sat next to him. "Are you lost?" He asked. "Ah, no. Hello, kiddo. What's your name?" He asked the boy, just to make sure if he heard her right, and that he was indeed seeing his younger self. "Azrael Hawke. But Nana told me not to talk to strangers. But you're wearing a gown, too. And you look decent, so I'll talk to you." Azrael wanted to laugh, this kid, his younger self had nerve, and a bit of an adult's arrogance, or it could be just his innocence. "You're not going to ask for my name?" "Ah, it's your prerogative, mister. I told you mine, so now it's up to you if you trust me enough to tell me yours." Where was this boy's sweetness to his 'Nana' gone to? He was an entirely different person to the present Azrael. "Well, I'm-" "Would you like me to tell you a story, Mister? Well, unless you have something to do. I understand if you left now." "Ahh-" Azrael figured it out. This boy was on defense. He wanted to shoo away a man who was invading his territory. The boy sees him as a potential threat. "You can call me A, kiddo." "That's funny, Nana calls me that, too." "Well, I guess we have a lot in common!" "Now that you say that, you look a lot like me. I'm better-looking, though." "Of course, you are!" A thought came to Azrael, Am I always this conceited?

"Your vanity is not something that most people can identify readily."



"Did you say something?" "No? I didn't say anything." Said the younger Azrael, who was now shuffling something from the counter. "Mister A, your nameplate." "What about it?" "Your nameplate says 'Hawke,' we have the same last name. I thought I was the only Hawke in Paradiso." Azrael's brows tied to a knot. "Paradiso?" "Yes, Isla Paradiso! Do you know other places called Paradiso, Mister?" "No." In fact, this is the first time I heard about this place. "I think Nana's pretty." "Who's Nana?" "Her." He pointed to the lady. "Why do you call her Nana?" "Because I can't call her Aveline? I'm not being rude, I'm sorry if I sound like that." "It's alright, kiddo. Is she your mother, or something?" "Well, if she were, I'd call her mum, but she's like a mum, too. She's really nice." "You must adore her." "That's no secret. She's the best girl in the world!" "Not Palmira?" Azrael carelessly commented. "Well, Palmira comes second. Oh, wait. Why- How do you know her?" "I can read minds." "Really? I can, too. Well. That's what I think." I was kidding. But was the younger him joking? He wouldn't know. And this was a dream. Never trust a dream. "How old are you, again?" "Eleven. Twelve. I don't know." Really?



"Hmm. that's odd. But what was this story you mentioned earlier?" "Ah, just a bed time story. I was two when I first heard about it." "Two? And you understood it?" "Yes. What do you remember from when you were two years old?" Unbelievable. This boy is an adult in a kid's body. Is this me? Is this really me? "I don't think I'm as smart as you, when I were younger." "That's fine. Would you still want to hear about the story? Don't you need to go see sick people?" "No, I'm on break, so I don't know why I'm even here." "Well, just keep your hands off my Nana." "Okay. Rest assured. Speaking of, where is she?" "Left. I don't know. I think she left." Without us noticing? And she acted like she didn't see me. "Dreams are complex, Mister. I have them a lot. But I don't know what they mean. And I always dream about people I think I know. And people I know, that I don't know."

Why are you saying this? Azrael thought to himself.

"My dreams, they tell me things. Things that happened in the past, even before I was born. Things that I've already forgotten. My dreams are beautiful. Nana told me my dreams are beautiful." "You talk to her about your dreams?" "Sometimes. But she doesn't know everything. And, most of my dreams don't mean anything to me. And dreams, well. I can't really trust them, you know? But Nana trusts my dreams." "Maybe she just likes how your dreams are so different?" "How do you know that, Mister?" "I just think. I sort of know it." "Well, I like listening to her stories about dragons. And wizards and witches. They were fun to listen to. But I think they're real. I just hadn't told Nan what I think about them." "Can you really read minds?" "I can. You don't believe me?" "Well, can you tell me what I'm thinking of now?" "You want to go home." "It's that obvious?" "No, I didn't even need to read your mind. Your thoughts were just lying out in the open." It was a familiar line. "You know, I think I remember that." "Which, Mister?" "Thoughts just lying out in the open." "You're very careless, Mister." So are you. You're me, kid. "How come your Nana doesn't see me?" "Oh, I think she saw you. She just didn't want to talk to you." "Why not? You said she's nice." "She's nice, but not that nice. Or, if you want to feel better, then, she didn't see you." "Oh, right. That's possible. But we're in a dream, aren't we?" "Dream? This isn't just a dream, Mister." Azrael flinched, and said, "You know me, don't you?"



The younger Azrael grabbed a book from the shelf. "This was supposed to be just a dream, you know, your usual dreams. My usual dreams- about the past lives of the Hawkes. But then, you look like you need more than the usual dose. You've become resistant to them, Doc. And I think you know what I mean." "Are you sure you're just eleven or twelve, or somewhere in that bracket?" "I'm not normal. You're not normal. Here." The boy placed the book in front of Azrael, "Open it. Open it, anytime. But not now."

Azrael looked at the book. The cover was different, apparently. But the book gave him a feeling of familiarity. He knows he's seen this book at least once. Maybe he'd forgotten about it but he knows that this wasn't the first time.

"Why not?" He asked, and continued, "And how do I get back to this place?" "Oh, you will get back to this place, Mister. You will. I know it." "What's the book about?" "Well, first things first. Nana. She. She's your sister." My sister? "She's my sister, too. She's a Hawke. But all her adulthood she lived as Enzalde Wintergreen, because she's running away. And she's protecting you- us." "From whom?" "The Order. Our family's spent years running away from these people." "Then why didn't she change your-ah, my- name?" "Because she underestimated them." "Blunt," Azrael uttered. Yet he still didn't believe him. Never trust dreams. "Palmira's nice. She's really sweet, too," the younger Azrael said as he looked at him. "You, I- I grew up with Palmira?" "You don't know? Yeah, you don't know. Yes." "But, I remember-" Azrael didn't finish, he let his younger self fill in the blanks. "You remember wrong. Everything you remember is a lie. Your family, the tragedy- well, ours is a different tragedy; your meeting with Palmira. Even your birthday is a lie." Here I am listening to a kid telling me that my life is a lie. How tasteful. "How about we do a pop quiz, Doc? About you." "Shouldn't you be playing with kids your age?" "My friends are adults, except Tony. And Palmira. But you're all adults now. Haha. This is a dream, remember. Well, it's not just some dream. And that book-" the younger him paused to look at the book, "That isn't just some book."



"Ahh," Azrael scratched the back of his head, and later messed his hair in frustration. How long till I break free from this dream? "Basics come first. Name?" "Name?" "Your name. I should know how much you don't know about yourself." "Shouldn't you already know?" "This is a protocol Nan came up with, why and why I wouldn't know, but let me tell you a secret. I've always slept here, in you. Should the need arise, I'm here to talk sense into you. I clean up, so I need to identify the errors first."

Azrael was confused. This kid- his younger self- was talking big. Worse, he was telling him what to do and what not to. Don't trust dreams. You said it yourself, he looked at his younger self.

"Then why did Easter point me to Aveline?" "I like playing my games, Mister. I just wanted to play. It was fun while it lasted." "I didn't know I was cruel at such a young age. And who is Easter anyway?" "You were secretly cruel. You were so kind, so nice. So... understanding. Me, I'm you. The adult Azrael, trapped in a child's body. But it's all in your mind. And Easter is an old friend. Nan doesn't trust him, and she was right not to. But I really liked him. Well, you really liked him." "You're confusing me." "So, what's your name?" So, we're really doing this? "Azrael Hawke." "Middle name?" "Is that even needed?" "I asked, so I think it is." "You're unreasonable." "Thanks, self." "So, if I grew up without the things that happened happening, leading to the me now, I'd be like you? Bitter and cynical?" "You'd be a gentleman. An honest gentleman. Like your grandfather. Well, what's your middle name?" "Aiyoo! Witcher." "Oh!" The younger Azrael's eyes brightened, "I'm surprised. She let you keep your name. She's like Nan, then. Underestimated them." "Are you talking about Palmira?" "Yes. I adore her, you love her. Nan did good. Planting me in you." "But you're me?" "Yes, how many times do we have to go over this?" "This is sick." "Twisted. I know. Doesn't that make it all the more fun?" "I don't know. I don't like where this is going." "You don't have to like it. You only need to know." "What? That Palmira kept my name as it is? This is all abstract to me, and probably will be until you actually start getting serious about telling me things." Azrael felt his patience leaving him. He was uncomfortable and irritated, trapped in some dream that refuses to end.

"I told you didn't I? This isn't just some dream, Azrael Witcher Hawke. I'm you and you're me. Now, if you refuse to accept that, fine by me. Fine with me. I'm just doing my job, the way Nan wants me to." His younger self had command in his voice. Azrael felt his seriousness. "Okay. Okay. Now what?" He looked helplessly at this boy that looked back at him. "Now you listen. First let me tell you, that I have my limitations. Nan planted me in you, along with memories and theories, as well as the Hawke family's history. Every bit of everything." "Sounds like a convenient hard disk. Do you come with picture projection, too?" It was rhetorical, and the younger Azrael ignored his irresponsible comment, "I know you're tired and you want to get out of this dream. But give me time. There are at least some things that you need to know before I let you off, before I let you go back to your fantastical world of make-believe." The boy started to pace around the room, "As I was saying, I have all these information, but there's a limit." "What would that be?" "The memories stop at your- erm, our- passage to adolescence." "So, you looking like that isn't just some- uh, forget it. Do continue."



"First, Palmira. How are things with her?" "I'm marrying her." "Oh, I approve. Well, that's from my love-struck point of view." "You said your memories stopped at my passage to adolescence, so why do you know that it was Palmira who kept my name?" "Nan. She knows things. And I know what she knows, but the how's and why's. I don't know everything. I just know that somehow, somewhere and sometime in Palmira's childhood, Nan was able to make things happen." "Are you saying she's involved in this memory hoax?" "No. I think, it's Palmira's own desire to protect you. But she could have done better and changed both your names. Maybe, she was actually hoping to be found? By whom, I don't know. But I'm sure it's not The Order." "What is this order that you keep saying?" "Mayfair." "What?" "They're- wait. Before anything, I know that you're a man of science now. And that you probably won't believe these things, especially with you thinking how dreams shouldn't be trusted. And whether or not you believe me, just listen. Listen first. Maybe ask afterwards, but don't rebuff them as lies or figurative. None of what I'll be saying is figurative, unless I say otherwise." "I like your humor, kid." "As I was saying, this order is, well, they call themselves The Mayfair Witches." "A cult?" "Occult, but not necessarily a cult. They pride themselves as pursuers of rare, even forgotten, lore and related shenanigans." "You said witches. You mean they're all women?" "Yes, and no. Yes, that those who hold position, ranks, and have voice in the order are women." "And the men?" "Servants. Hirelings. They do all the dirty work while the women sit around ordering them." "You sound bitter." "I am bitter. I didn't know then, that Matteo and Theo were both from the order." "Wait, who are they?" "Matteo. Remember his name. Matteo Torres is Nan's steward and husband. Well, he's supposed to be the Witchers' steward but he fell in love and the rest is history." "And you're saying that Aveline- Nan, you're saying that she's my sister." "Yeah." "I find this hard to comprehend. It's all so-" "Unbelievable? I know. Watcher knows how much I hated that guy. I thought he was hurting Nan, you know, emotionally. The concept of violence never really came up to me, but it's not like there was. I really just thought that he was playing with Nan's feelings. Now, now that I carry all of her memories and yours, I can't help but feel guilty. I should have tried to ask properly. But Nan was almost never around during those times."

There was a pang of remorse in both Azraels' hearts. The younger Azrael sat on Aveline's chair and gestured for Azrael to sit on the patient's chair. Azrael was amused- remorseful, but amused.

"As for Theo, did Palmira never say anything?" "Her father's name is Teodor. I know that much. I also know that she isn't fond of him. But he's passed recently. And she never called him Theo, but the only Theo I can think of is a man named Teodor. Can't be Matteo, can it?" "Nan called him Matty. Funny, really." "Right. So, is he?." "Theo is Teodor Medina. Palmira's father, and the order's personal guinea pig. He did the researches, sure, and that made him the guinea pig. The order did make sure to fund his researches though, and hush people who need to be hushed if anything, say, uneventful happened." "What kind of researches?" "Experiments. Enhancing." "Technology?" "Genetic engineering. And no, it has nothing to do with corn and wheat or rice." "Then?" "Sim experiments." "That's- What kind of experiments, exactly?" "I'll leave your imagination to it. Just know that it isn't anything related to what most doctors pursue, all the "for better health campaigns." Azrael was aghast. "He does, well, did it like all you people do- animal testing. Even plant testing. Until all of it looked promising enough to advance to the next stage." "The people he used?" "Ah, he had his own." "What?" "Drones, I don't know. That's what Nana called them. I mean, that's the information Nan put in me. Wait, there's another name. Fiends- beings not entirely man, dolls, robots, everything and anything. They gave him fiends." "This is all hard to stomach." "But it doesn't end there." "Is it important that I know?" "Yes. He did his experiments on them, too." "Them- you mean to himself and Palmira?" "Yeah." "You seem enthusiastic about this." "Hell, yeah! You're finally realizing things!" "But this is nothing to celebrate about." "You'd rather not know?" Yeah, I'd rather not know.



Azrael didn't know what to say. Until finally, he asked, "How does Aveline, well, Nan, know all of this?" "Theo confided in her. But she also thinks that he didn't tell her everything. He told her enough to protect her, but not everything. He was careful not to talk to Nan so much, because it would attract the order's attention. Eventually, they caught up and found out." "What does Palmira know?" "She knows nothing. Except maybe that you're like an artifact." "So Theo?" "Theo died misunderstood by her only daughter." "She should know." "Maybe. Maybe not. Didn't you say you're getting married?" "Yes." "Nan and Matteo got married in a secret place. It was the only safe place in Paradiso. Mum lent a had." "You mean our mother?" "Yeah." "I grew up in Paradiso?" "Yeah. Before that you were in Bridgeport." "The infamous city?" "Spot on." "How am I an artifact?" Azrael hadn't hoped for an answer." "You're the heir. You alone inherited both the Hawke and the Mayfair blood." "But you said the Mayfairs are hounding us? Is it because of my blood?" "Yes. Because you are a true Mayfair." "You mean to say that, the order? Do explain. I'm not sure I get this."

"The order is old. Really old. Dating to generations before great-grandfather. But then again, great-grandfather lived centuries long. I said before that the order prided itself as pursuers of rare knowledge. And your mother- our mother- is the only true Mayfair, until you." "Was her name Helen?" "Hysteria. Your father, Abaddon." "Palmira named our boy Abaddon." "It means destruction. I'm surprised she's still alive." "Hey, that's cruel." "No, honestly. She gave birth to a male Hawke. Witches die. So many witches died before great-grandmother Esther." Azrael was puzzled. Everything was making less sense. "The order named itself after Hysteria Witcher- the fabled Mayfair Witch. She never had a name, she was a myth and a legend to everyone but the few who truly sought her. But still, she eluded them. And the order, The Mayfair Witches worshiped her, naming their organization after her- after a name that simnanity decided for her. But really. Hysteria Witcher was nameless until she was swooned over by great-grandfather." "But you said great-grandmother's name is Esther, and that I'm the only true Mayfair next to Hysteria Witcher." "Things happened. A lot of things happened. I'm pretty sure you'll remember the story from one of Nan's. You'll remember."



There was a story about the great Hawke losing his mind, that eventually cost him his sight. But it was in Azrael's locked chest, somewhere.

"Why not just tell me?" "In your current state, telling you more things would only seem senseless. What's important is you know these people. Matteo Torres, still alive, I think. And because my memories are limited, I can't tell you where he is now. Teodor Medina, as you say, is dead. He applied his experiments on himself and Palmira. Never forget that." "You're making me doubt Palmira's identity." "No. I'm not asking you to, nor do I wish you to. You love her, you have a baby. That's the important thing." "We have twins. Anathema." "By Watchers! Twins! Oh, no." "What?" "I can't believe this. Remember when I said I had theories in me, too?" "Yeah, why?" "I- it's hard to say. And it's too early for that to happen." "For what to happen?" "No. You don't need any more to confuse you. So I'm going to tell you about the people you should know, let me continue. Please." Azrael was reluctant, but he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter. "Okay. Go on." "Great-grandfather. Zarall. He was the great Hawke wizard. Witches and spellcasters in general adored him, admired him. But he was a lone wolf. He preferred his solitude to company until he met Hysteria. And then lost her, and then met great-grandmother Esther." "There are still so many things that I need to know, and so many more things that I don't believe. That I'm occult? I'm the most normal that I ever know!" "Well, if that's the case, Palmira did a great job." "Erasing my memories?" "Protecting you."

The two breathed, tried to grasp things that weren't really there. I'm not supposed to trust dreams. But all of these things and all of these names. They didn't make sense, but he was sure he believed them. He bit his lower lip hard enough for it to bleed. This is just a dream. But he felt the sting in his mouth.



"There are more, aren't there? Grandmother, grandfather. Father. Mother. And my siblings, if I had any more other than Aveline. You're right. My life is a lie." "But not the love, I suppose. Cheesy, but as true as heck." "Watch your mouth, kiddo." "Heh. Yeah." "So, the others?" "Grandmother Shannan. She loved grandfather Raziel. A lot, but she hated your father. Well, not really. She hated herself. Hysteria-mum- helped her. They both knew that granny was being used by the order to get into the bloodline, like great-grandmother did. Then, they really hadn't cared that much about the Mayfair Witch. They were too bent on seizing the great Hawke's power for themselves. Greedy women. They were possessed by demons that lusted for power, turning them into demons themselves. That's figurative, by the way." "Hah, I appreciate the little joke. But I don't think I can laugh at stuff like these." "You know these things from your dreams, Azrael Hawke. You have these memories in you, waiting to break free." "And then our parents." "Yeah, Abaddon and Hysteria. Mum sought dad, to protect Hawkes from falling prey to the order." "But hadn't they already tapped into the bloodline?" "Tapped, yes. But they haven't figured out how to extract the power from a Hawke without killing him unnecessarily, because they prided in their "elegant" approach to matters such as these, too." "And the Hawkes, are all males?" "Yes. The witch dies with the birth of the next Hawke. That's what was supposed to happen to great-grandmother. But great-grandfather died instead." "How?" "They found a way. Know that among witches, warlocks, wizards, only a Hawke feeds on life force. That's why he continues to grow more powerful, and great-grandfather was the most powerful, enough to catch the order's attention. And there is no prior "why" to this matter. I don't know why a Hawke feeds on life force. Nan doesn't know. But great-grandmother and the order found out. It was all great-grandmother's scheme really. The order just jumped into the limelight and took all the credit." "So, how?" "Simple really. Marriage."

Mundane. Ceremonies can range from simple and discreet to grand. But marriage? Marriage to seal the fate of women in this sense? "That's a little overrated." "Marriage is a contract." "I'm aware." "Then there are vows." "Yes, surely." "Well, in nature's own course and definition of things, to be exact, Fate- as in the entity, the one who governs, marriage is a contract. And getting married to a Hawke meant submitting to the terms of the contract." "That explains why Palmira is still alive." "Yeah, because other than her not being a witch, I don't know, man. All the more reason that she shouldn't be alive after that birth." "She knew. That's why she kept refusing my proposal despite the years we've been together." "Do you feel betrayed?" "Yes. But I wouldn't know what to do if I lost her, either." "That also means that Abaddon is feeding on your life force." "What?" "Why are you surprised? Why do you think I said great-grandfather died, instead?" "But my boy is normal." "Normal, really? You wouldn't know that." "My first boy is also normal, but he died in his sleep."

The younger Azrael was dumbfounded.



There were no theories nor memories, nor knowledge regarding this matter. A Hawke male dead, a Hawke male powerless." "Listen, let's both figure this out. First. The Hawke power is inherited." "Yes, I remember." "That this power grows as the generation proceeds." "As you've said." "And that the power is passed onto the next Hawke." "I understand." "So, now. Also know that there are skips to this." "Skips?" Great-grandfather died, passing the power to the next Hawke, grandfather Raziel. But grandfather didn't die. Granny did, that means the power stayed in him-" "Which means that father had nothing." "He had nothing. Grandfather died after you were born. Fate couldn't afford to go through the lengthy process of passing through every generation-" "Since I'm already there." "But know, that you were a Mayfair before you became a Hawke." "Simply because father had no drop of power in him?" "All Hawkes have power. But only one in every generation inherits the raw and true meaning of being a Hawke." "And what's that?" "Being a keeper of dragons."

Dragons. Azrael remembers a story about dragons.

"What do you mean by, "I'm a Mayfair before I became a Hawke?'" "After grandfather's death, your Mayfair blood was infused with Hawke blood, I don't mean literal blood. Spirit, energy, ki. I don't know. Whatever people call them. You're both a Hawke and a Mayfair. That makes you a prized hunt for the order." "I don't like that you're making it sound like I'm being hunted." "Oh, but you are. I know this is brash but I should tell you about your brothers." "So, it's not just Aveline, after all. And I didn't have a twin sister, either. Heh." "Garrett and Carver. You were triplets. Garrett being the eldest, and Carver the youngest." "That makes me the problem-child, doesn't it?" "In a different sense, it does." They both laughed weakly. "All the male Hawkes but you survived the fire." "So, it wasn't a car accident. And I suppose the fire wasn't an accident, either?" "It was an accident. But them coming for your family wasn't. Things just got out of hand, and a fire broke out, burning the house down, making the adolescent Nan run for our lives, and leaving mum to stall for them. She survived, of course. And then Nan spent her years wandering town after town to adulthood, and then she met Theo. So on, and so on. We moved to Paradiso, and the hunt started again." "This is all so hard to put together." "Oh, but in time you will." "Palmira's going to die, isn't she?" "Inevitable. Effective immediately, if I must say. Because she's been stalling, you can think of it as a sudden impact. Time takes its toll." "I'll lose Palmira on the day of our wedding?" "It depends on how much time she cheated." "But I'll lose her. And that's the point."



"What about Anathema and Abaddon?" "We'll figure things out. Sorry for ruining your awaited wedding. It'll be hard marrying her knowing what will happen." "She looks at Anathema strangely sometimes. Like there's fear. For her, of her. I don't know." "You've family to support you. They're around. Somewhere." "Thanks, kiddo. None of the things you told me makes me happy. But I'm glad." "And by the way, thanks, I like my humor, too. But Garrett's is better, even as a toddler." "Don't tell me you're not the only image corrector, personality adjuster, or blast from my past? Whatever you deem convenient and appropriate." "Whoever comes around, will come around."

"And I have magic?" "Tch, you just realized?" the younger Azrael snorted, "You've gone a long way, and it's the wrong way."

The two Azrael's were exhausted. "Here, do you remember Thujane?" "Oh, a little bear witch. Thujane. Have you picked a gender?" "It didn't matter then. It shouldn't matter now." The younger Azrael set down Thujane in the middle of the couch and grabbed himself a book. Azrael couldn't help but let the feelings linger. And in that short moment, sleep preyed him in his dream.



And with new feelings bound to linger, he slipped away slowly to continue his morning stroll. He wants to forget everything he learned when he wakes up.

At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]



Registered members do not see ads on this Forum. Register here.

Offline melancholy_anju

  • Occult
  • ****
  • Posts: 292
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 29- Linger
« Reply #92 on: July 27, 2014, 04:55:35 PM »
Oh this answered so much and left me with so many more questions at the same time!
I'm more curious than ever what were the mysterious events surrounding little Gabriel's death. Not to mention what will become of Palmira's and Azrael's fates. It's unbelievable how twins that cute can cause so many problems.

Offline Nutella

  • Watcher
  • ******
  • Posts: 2883
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 29- Linger
« Reply #93 on: January 16, 2015, 08:13:58 AM »
I'm moving this to the Stories Graveyard due to inactivity. cainspath, you can revive this story by contacting a moderator.

Offline Trip

  • Challenge Board Assistant
  • Global Moderator
  • Watcher
  • ******
  • Posts: 4421
  • Three Chihuahuas in a Trenchcoat
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 29- Linger
« Reply #94 on: March 26, 2015, 10:59:52 AM »
At the author's request, this thread is being moved back to the Land of the Living. Welcome back!
No respect, no chance, cease and desist when I chant-

Forum Rules / DecaDynasty / Defunded

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 23- First Kiss
« Reply #95 on: March 26, 2015, 06:34:59 PM »
Oh this answered so much and left me with so many more questions at the same time!
I'm more curious than ever what were the mysterious events surrounding little Gabriel's death. Not to mention what will become of Palmira's and Azrael's fates. It's unbelievable how twins that cute can cause so many problems.

Wow. This story hasn't been touched in a while. It'll be discussed soon, Like Palmira soon. (I don't know what that means, but you'll find out later.  ;)) For now, I'll be uploading the new chapters incrementally. I think that maybe everybody needs time to erm, let everything sink in.  ;D

At the author's request, this thread is being moved back to the Land of the Living. Welcome back!

Thank you!


I can't hold a weighted heart,
Gotta let it out from the start


First Kiss
Close your eyes for Ryan O'Shaughnessy

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and end
I'm stuck on chapter one
There's no substitute for losing a friend


The sun would soon spill blood and cast it all over Sunlit Tides. But the sun would withdraw and retire to rest, so the moon could glide, and give us a beautiful night for a wedding.

For now, it was a cheerful bluish white, painted with some green and yellow.



And mounds of earth, and a couple whites.



Every story has a beginning, a middle, and end
And Iím on chapter two
Cause you never know whatís waiting around the bend


He stood nervously as he waits for his bride to walk down an aisle of stern cold stone and hardness, with its chilling calloused smoothness. Rain just came and passed. And he was anxious that the rain might come back and ruin the ceremony. "Well, Gabby. I'm marrying your Mum!" Quickly, he dug his hand into his pocket and tightly held onto the pair of mitts for the winter that little Gabby never got to see, deep in his pocket. He always carried this memento for luck and consolation, but it was the first time that he felt needing all of its power.



There was still some time to wait.

For her, for him.

For the blue-eyed darling who sang to his dead child.



And for another woman, with gaping wings tattooed on her back.



But the trees wouldn't wait, the wind. The trees swayed slightly, and the leaves rustled. The wind run past, and the bushes blushed. Soon, the guests were warm in anticipation as they looked at the bride walk past them, with her bare feet brushing over the coolness of the stone ensemble. She was insistent on walking the aisle barefoot.



And she was smiling.
The trees were bleeding.
She was ready to seal her fate.



He forced a smile, as he looked at Palmira walk slowly, past the few people they trusted and thought they knew.

Carver was there, in a delicate custom-dress Emmanuelle got for his body. "From Barney's." Carver repeated the inscription from the card. He was having jitters and a near-mental breakdown. He didn't want to come to his brother's wedding to see the bride die in front of everyone. He didn't want to see the order seizing that moment of weakness like some golden opportunity, but he knew better. The order was beyond escape at this point. He didn't want to see Garrett and his personality malfunction. Carver denies missing his brothers, but his feelings and what was happening didn't match. Carver just wasn't ready. But here he was sitting among the crowd, in his mortal female body that he's learned to love, waiting for the curtains to be drawn, and for the act to fall into motion.

It didn't change the fact that he didn't want any of it to happen.
It didn't change the fact that it was happening.
But he smiled, he smiled using the lips he wasn't sure he could call his.



And Quillaia, with those peering blue eyes, unmistakably blue and soulful. She was there for her mother's brother. She was there for the twins. Just like Aveline, Quillaia knew what she was bound to do, and she was determined to undo her mother's mistakes.



Garrett could smell Carver. It wasn't his brother's scent, but he learned it from his multiple visits of the residence. It was certainly a woman's scent. But it was still his brother, their stubborn little brother. He was burning with the desire to snatch them away, but that would only warrant the order to chase them to greater lengths. He didn't want that, he wanted things to end. Even if that meant seeing his brother lose the love of his life.

Garrett looks at Azrael and surveys his brother's posture, his shift in movements, his body language. Garrett could smell the depth of Azrael's regret. "He already knows. But he's doing it anyway." Garrett felt Azrael's regret, he can smell how it reeks out of him. He could smell it, and he may never forget that smell.

He was there, but he couldn't risk making himself visible.

Palmira smiles at her groom. She could feel her tears beading. She knows what she's risking by doing this, but she'd been using Azrael's life to live. She'd been letting Anathema feed on Azrael's life force. It was time that she gave Anathema what was rightfully hers- despite what may befall the world. Palmira wants to save Azrael, not even he could stop her . She knew that only Azrael could end this.



She smiles at the thought that her swan song would be a beautiful wedding and a kiss.
She smiles at the dream that this will become when she looks up the sky for her farewell.
She can only wait for Azrael's time to cross, and wish...

Iím always wishing itís you
Iím always wishing itís you


Azrael took a few steps down to reach for his bride.
They walked closer to their doom, step by step, with each other's fingers intertwined.



She looked beautiful. She is beautiful. "I love you," he mouthed. Palmira smiled in response, "I love you, too." "Do you regret marrying me?" "Do you?" They exchanged their goodbyes in their smiles.



They nested their heads together, and felt each other's breath.

Azrael kissed the top of her head. "Marry me, Palmira. Marry me." "Aren't I already?" "Marry me in this life, and the next life. And the life after that. Marry me until we can be together." "Haha, I'll try." Palmira's tears stained Azrael's shoulder.



They danced to the tune of their melancholy, and listened to their own silent sobs.



And vows.



Did you take the time to close your eyes
And place your lips to mine


It was time the groom kissed the bride.

Place your lips to mine
When you move in for the first kiss
When you move in for the first kiss
Just make sure you don't miss




Palmira looked at Azrael's eyes. "I'll wait for you."
She reached to touch his lips and kiss them.
She closed her eyes.

Keep your eyes closed
'Cause every story has a beginning,
A middle,
And end



I hope you hadn't forgotten about Carver from Hawke Revival. S/he came, it's Azrael's wedding after all. S/he had a total make-over. You'll know why in the next chapter.



Also, you might wonder why all the shots are close-up. I just hate it when Sims show up for weddings looking like they just came out of who-knows-where. For those who are curious, while I didn't bother so much to take the photos, here are some with the other guests. Anyway, I hate them. Did I just say it again? I hate them.





PS. I'd love for these sims to show up all wacky in Hawke Revival, but not in Blood. They destroyed me. *cries     
PPS. How sims kiss at their wedding just don't work for me.  :-X
At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]

Offline LivvieLove

  • Queen of Mush
  • Watcher
  • ******
  • Posts: 2368
  • "Sh! Be quiet! The nutters are out to get me."
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 30- First Kiss
« Reply #96 on: March 26, 2015, 11:26:45 PM »
Welcome back! So glad to see this story back... and boy did I tear up at this one... beautifully written, cainspath. I'm going to go over and ponder my whole life right now with sadness.

PS. Carver is looking good.
PPS. Those silly sims and their terrible wedding dress-code etiquette.
PPPS. Palmira looked stunning. Period. Holy crap.
PPPPS. WHY DID AZRAEL GO THROUGH WITH IT?!

I'm done with the PPPPPSing now.



Registered members do not see ads on this Forum. Register here.

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 30- First Kiss
« Reply #97 on: March 27, 2015, 11:05:21 AM »
Welcome back! So glad to see this story back... and boy did I tear up at this one... beautifully written, cainspath. I'm going to go over and ponder my whole life right now with sadness.

Thank you for the welcome and the appreciation!  :) I've been itching to do something about Blood but couldn't for a lo(ooo)ng while. Can't say I'm not glad at having you moved, though: I postponed writing this (chapter) more than once because I couldn't control my, erm, emotions. Palmira was one of the key characters and I adore her.

About the sadness part, ah, I was going to say don't, but okay. So long as you'll have enough to compare happiness with.  ;)

PS. Carver is looking good.
PPS. Those silly sims and their terrible wedding dress-code etiquette.
PPPS. Palmira looked stunning. Period. Holy crap.

PS. I'm obsessing with Carver's vessel. She's a total doll, but I hate how she smiles so much. I didn't want her pouting and I-can't-figure-what emotion for any of the shots, but you know. She looks like that. I'm glad I found a work-around. Also, s/he would like to thank Pralensims for his/her eyeshadow (or eyeliner), Ms Blu for his/her tattoo, and Sky for his/her hair.

PPS. Sometimes I'm tempted to just give them that make-over, but I'm not paid to do that. Darn.

PPPS. Palmira would like to give thanks to BEO for her gown. She didn't need any make-up. I also probably need to put up a proper photo of the the couple, but maybe at another time.

PPPPS. WHY DID AZRAEL GO THROUGH WITH IT?!

I'm done with the PPPPPSing now.

Coming soon.
At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]

Offline KRae

  • Watcher
  • ******
  • Posts: 2386
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 30- First Kiss
« Reply #98 on: March 27, 2015, 11:01:45 PM »
Wow, I just read this whole story over the last couple of days. At times I tears rolling down my face. Thank you.

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 31- Skyfall
« Reply #99 on: April 09, 2015, 08:51:25 AM »
Wow, I just read this whole story over the last couple of days. At times I tears rolling down my face. Thank you.

Thank you, KRae! I'm glad that you appreciate the story! I put a lot of love and a bit of hatred and frustration into this story, so thank you!  :)



This is the end
Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again


Skyfall
But it's only the beginning, Adele

Emmanuelle walked.

The walk was long and lazy, as that of the setting day, and the slow orange horde of fluff creeping slowly like a romantic ruse on the naked sand of Sunlit Tides.



But the sky was becoming darker. The last string of orange had left its horde and drew away as it allowed the black to seep into its old place. The air around the Hale residence died. The water stopped teasing and tickling the sand. Everything was still, but the moon was slowly rising to its pedestal.

Emmanuelle walked, with the sole of her slippers brushing and gritting against the sand. She liked the sound of friction.





Ding-dong. Carver Hawke living as Karela Hale was anxious, the way Azrael Hawke had been anxious in his dream.

Ding-dong. Carver sat still, frozen, almost. He had always believed that the invisible weirdo was just some voice his mother casted on him, not someone.



Ding-dong. Emmanuelle was growing impatient, but she had to act as normally as any normal person should when faced with visiting a family who doesn't seem to care for the relentless cry of the doorbell, additionally, in this case, walking through a door. Even before that, pressing the doorbell repeatedly until it gets beaten or dead.



She walked away. She didn't have to stand idly by the hideous door that revealed the inside of the house. The doorbell, the contraption could be manipulated.

She walked away.
Ding-
It was Kiwi who opened the door, "Good evening, Lady Grantham." It was a name Emmanuelle took, after finding out the number of Grantham's in this town. "You were here for your sculpture-?" Kiwi had been taught never to speak names, because he knew that names were dangerous, that the wind has ears.

"Yes, and I'm here. It looks like age got the better of you, Mr Hale. Is it time for dinner yet?" Lousy. But Emmanuelle thought of the food that she could smell cooking in the kitchen. "Ah, yes. You could have dinner with us if you pleased." It was a lousy exchange altogether, but Kiwi had to give in to that stupid episode. "Won't you come down to enjoy the breeze with me? Living by the ocean is such a marvelous thing!" What an old-ish person to say, she thought to herself. Well, she was old. What followed was less guarded, Emmanuelle sent Kiwi masked words, words that meant nothing important to anyone's ears but its receiver.

"Brr! It sure is cold in here!"

She wore that, in this weather. At this time of the day. But she could warm herself. Emmanuelle liked to act.



She would be found to speak differently to people, to Carver most especially. And it would appear later, to the rest of the Hale family. "I'm truly sorry for not being quick enough-" "You best stop apologizing if you don't want to get zinged on that spot." Emmanuelle sounds comfortable enough. "Yes, yes. Please come in. Welcome. Welcome." But they stood rooted to where they were. Emmanuelle showed no hint of moving,  but she knew that Carver was sitting in front of the dead television, with her back to the door. Emmanuelle could feel Carver's tension rising, his pulse beating. She didn't need Garrett's senses, she relied on whispers, sounds, feelings. "She's terribly tense, isn't she?" Emmanuelle joked. Unlike Hysteria, Emmanuelle's jokes made more sense.

"She hasn't slept for weeks after that, I'm afraid. She hasn't been herself, lately." "The love keeps growing," whether Kiwi knew what she did, he responded with silence. Emmanuelle respected it. "Thank you," Kiwi whispered. But Emmanuelle kept pushing, "Karela. Carver. How do you address the Mistress' son?" "With love. Now, still with so much love. But differently. With restraint, with sadness. With pain. I've become my lover's guardian. The natural order of things are messed up, aren't they?" It was a bitter joke, and it didn't answer Emmanuelle's question. On good days, Emmanuelle might have laughed at it. Kiwi did, but it faded as soon as his eyes turned to look at the shadowed sand.

"You've aged." It didn't warrant a response.

Kiwi was tired. It wasn't just the years that passed him by. It was everything.
His face was grim.

"I, ah, we best go inside separately. Thank you, Hale." She offered courtesy that she learned from observing mortals all her life. She got away. Kiwi replied with his own "Thank you" and went hurriedly to the kitchen.



"You." Carver's eyes were on the feet of the woman that is now his body, "You're really here." "You haven't even heard my voice." Carver had. He listened. How much he managed to understand wasn't Emmanuelle's concern, "How can you be so sure?" "I am now." "You don't even turn to look at me." Carver didn't show any intention to look at her. "I'm waiting for the banter to start," Emmanuelle hoped for him to break the tension and the awkwardness. "No."

"Sigh." Emmanuelle wanted to make things less of what she had anticipated it to become, which is what was happening now. "You're here for my brother, aren't you." "Oh, a telly! Can we open this one?" Emmanuelle's delight was infused with sarcasm." "What?" Carver was both confused and infuriated, he rose "Are you kidding me? This is no time for your-" "Amaze-balls! You can literally sit here all day and just watch all these creatures repetitively crossing the screen from side to side. Do you ever sit down to watch the telly all day? Oh no," Her voice lost its enthusiasm, "You don't." "Of course, I don't! Unlike you, who lies around in bed all day, I actually have to live properly!" "You're darn right," Emmanuelle didn't even deny it, "Except, how do you live properly?" Carver stared, he was past irritated. "You're finally looking at me." Carver averted his eyes. "Or not."



Carver sat back, "You easily forget what you're here for." "Oh, you know, just making sure you're comfortable." "You got comfortable by yourself, in my house." "Does that make you uncomfortable? Haven't you heard of 'What's yours is mine?'" "It's the other way around, and no. You irritate me." Emmanuelle knew it was true, but she had more to say, "So, when are you getting married? Don't you think it's about time for the second one?" "I didn't realize you were here to gossip." "I gossip for a living." "You were here for very pressing matters?" "It doesn't hurt to slack off a little." "Not if my brother's life is on the line."

"Fine. I'm here on my own liberty." "Are you? That's not the easiest thing to believe." "Ah, but you don't have a choice in the matter." "Then, which ones?" "The ones about your brothers. The ones about your role in this, the ones about The Order, the-" "My brothers? What do you mean, my brothers?" Carver was getting angry, "Garrett is dead. And don't bring up this stranger, Gale to me."

"Where do you want to start?" "Answer me, -" Carver didn't know how to call her. He'd called her invisible weirdo since he first remembers. "Ah, don't second-guess yourself." She paused, "Call me what you wish. For now. Sit down, why don't you?" Carver did as she asked. "Garrett is alive. Was dead, but is alive. The Dragon Queen interfered, pitied him, loved him, reared him. And like your mother, succumbed to her eternal yearning, going as far as reviving his soul. She taught him things that even he shouldn't know. That's why he's here, too." "How- what? How long has he-?" He couldn't finish it, Emmanuelle didn't need to hear the last of it. "A while. He wants to save Azrael, and he wants to see you." "To laugh at this pathetic state?" "You. You have a man who loves you, and a family that adores you. In the thousands of years that I've lived, I cry at every instant man calls himself pathetic when he's not." She looked at Carver, who was angry, not with what she said, but at himself. If only he'd done what he should have a long time ago- learned the arcane magic, he'd be less helpless. "Stop it. What you're doing now is pathetic." "You expect me to laugh? To agree and celebrate?" There was no hate in his voice, but he meant every word of it. "I expect you to act."

"Where's my mother in all of this?" "Ah, the culture of blame." "You know very well what I meant. I want to know why, and what's been happening, what's about to happen. I want to know what I've been refusing to understand in the last years." He paused. "Answer me." The Hawkes had a way with command, not all of them realized it, not even Zarall. "She can't. She's already done so much to upset the balance. The realm of souls is falling into ruins. If she left again, the realm will die. So will she. She insulted her duty. She insulted her own existence by falling in love. First with Zarall, and then with your father." Emmanuelle sounded to have insulted Hysteria. But she used Hysteria's own words, and somehow, Carver knew. He knew that their family was an anomaly, and it hurt him to hear those words escaping someone's mouth.



"Azrael, what's going to happen to him? Will he-" "No. Palmira is. The sacrifice of her own life will unlock Anathema's magic." "But the Hawke's magic only truly runs in a male. And Azrael, doesn't he have it? How can a girl inherit a power that still lurks in her father? A girl! It's impossible." Emmanuelle left her seat beside Carver, left it cold and yearning. She walked away, and back, with her back against the night that crept into the slits of this threatened haven. "Exactly. But it's not just Lady Hysteria who upset the balance. The Order, too. They've become more vicious and greedy. For now, we still don't know how Anathema inherited the power. It could have to do with Teodor's experiments, maybe he stumbled onto something, I haven't watched his every move. If I knew, I would have. I should have!" It was the first time Emmanuelle was every frustrated in such a way. "But her power, it's boiling, we can all feel it, even The Order feels it. That's how they found Azrael and Palmira. And in no time, they're going to find you, and Garrett. We still don't know when they can manage that, but they're coming. They're going to that wedding." "It's in two days." "You did your research." Emmanuelle thoughtlessly remarked, which Carver ignored.

"You still haven't told me how I'm going to that wedding." "Simple. Go there, you've studied enough, haven't you? All those science jargons can make him believe." "Azrael? He's a doctor, his jargons are different. And just how does that make me anything less of a stranger?" "You've forgotten who I am?" "I don't know what you are." "Oh, I'm a certain list of things. Dress appropriately, I've seen you put cloth and fabric onto you and announce them as clothes. Let me tell you that they're not. Be the nerd that you've groomed yourself to be." "What am I going to say to him once we meet?" "I don't know. You talk to more people than I can count with two hands. He's your brother, for crying out loud. Talk about senseless things. He may be a doctor, but you're a scientist working up to the ladder. Since he's your brother, I trust you to be less awkward than you actually are." "Be less awkward with your brother you've never seen for more than three decades, noted. And The Order?" "I forgot to tell you because I enjoyed making fun of you. Magic comes less naturally to you now, your body isn't your body so it's like teaching a fly to bark. You can eventually bark, but it's going to take a while, with need of a lot of help. You're basically normal." "And you've always insulted me and my magic." "That's because you don't really have it anymore." "I still have telepathy." Carver shot back at her.

With the same sharp look that Azrael gave Palmira earlier that day.

Where you go I go
What you see I see
I know I'd never be me
Without the security
Of your loving arms
Keeping me from harm
Put your hand in my hand
And we'll stand


"Palmira. Listen to me, we don't have to do this!" He paced around the room, " This is full of... of-" "Azrael, stop." "Why?"
Oh, it was a question warranted a thousand answers, or more.

Let the sky fall
When it crumbles
We will stand tall
Face it all together


"I love you," Azrael was desperate. It was useless, but he pleaded. "Please, I can't lose you. Not like this." "Hey, A. Come on," Palmira stroked his cheek, "If not now, then when? This is how I wanna pass. By saving you." She smiled a weak smile, a liberated smile, melancholic, but liberated. "I don't want to be saved." "Don't be stupid."

They were silent for a while.

"A. Do you remember Nana's torte?" "Of course, I do. I remember the torte I refused to eat. I remember the last conversation we had, it wasn't pleasant. I disappointed her. I hurt her." He stood up, "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! How could I have forgotten!" And how he missed her. How he hated himself for leaving her that day. He hated himself for a lot of things. Palmira gave him another reason to. "She wouldn't want to see you succumb to self-hatred. It's pitiful," she laughed. "I am pitiful. The women I love end up miserable." "I'm miserably happy."

"Are you?" "Yes." "You were dreaming." "What?" "You had a dream about eating torte." "What do you mean, "dream?' I came back from work..." "You didn't eat much, though. "What are you saying?" "It was Nana." "Watcher's sake, Palmira. What are you saying at this time? We should be talking about not going through this wedding!" He was agitated, "You're agitated." "I am!" Palmira burst into laughter, "This isn't the time to be talking about these things. I doubt this is the time to be laughing, either. You know what, we can talk about them after- when we cancel the wedding! It's just a ceremony. It doesn't mean anything. It won't mean anything if I lose you." "I know. I see you."

"I see you." It was Palmira's way of telling him, "I know you."

"Do you?" It was Azrael's time to ask. "Yes. That's why I know that you can do this." "Not without you." "Well, the wedding, you can't do without me. Living, you can. We have two beautiful angels!" "I know." "See?" "I don't see it, Palmira. It's- it's-" "Dark." "Yes, dark." "The lights are out." "Palmira, please stop making jokes out of this conversation." She wasn't joking. It was dark, she was momentarily blind, and she was numb. She's been having these episodes since Anathema was born. These episodes were transient, and she never told Azrael. Even now. It didn't matter that Azrael now knew what he was, and who he is. He wasn't capable of finding out now. "Let's get married, okay?" "There's no winning against you." "Even if you fled, I'd find you. There's really no running away from this, A." "Myrrh."

"I love you, too." It was late, but Azrael knew. He thought, You love lying to me, too. "I'm sorry." Palmira turned her eyes away. "When are you going to tell me everything?" "What good will telling you do?" "What good will dying for me do?" "It's you or me, A. And I don't know if you see it, but I'm not you. I can't do what you can. I don't have what you have. Why can't you see that I'm doing this for you?" They were going in circles. "I don't see the point of this. We're cancelling the wedding." "We are not cancelling the wedding. You'll, what? Postpone the wedding so I could live. And then, what? Risk being hounded by The Order all our lives? Are you even thinking about the twins? Yourself? That your one day you'll just drop dead in front of your kids with or without them knowing why? They're going to grow up. Ask questions. I can't even say for sure whether Anathema can understand what's happening now. Or if Abaddon can. We don't know what they know, what they hear. What blatant lies and truths the wind is whispering to them. They're Hawke. They're Mayfair. And now both of them could be abominations because of me. Darn it, A. Darn it." "What guarantee do you have that when we go through with this, they'll stop?" Why, Palmira? What is it that you're not telling me?"



Palmira remembers the ornate gift they received. She kept it hidden. It was one less thing off Azrael's mind. The trinket was nothing but The Order's final act of bestowing humiliation. The trinket was their triumph.

"If I didn't do this, we'll be happy for what, one, two, five, ten years? I need to do this so I can unbind you." "I'm fine with one, two, three  more years with you. Just a time longer." "Until they catch us. Take you. Our children. It's selfish, A. It's selfish." "As selfish as dying on me." "Don't make this harder than it already is. I'm being a jerk, I know. But I know that you understand, that you just refuse to listen. I need to do this." "And then what? The three of us live happily ever after? The Order will stop hunting us? Anathema and Abaddon will be as normal as other kids can ever be? Right. A single dad who almost lives at a hospital raising kids, twins for that matter. I'll make a really good dad." Azrael knew that he was the one being a jerk.

"You'll forget me soon." "Hah! I don't get how and where you get these bull you're coming up with." "I told you," Palmira held Azrael's hand, "I told you, you'll forget soon."

Palmira did what she did. It was her final act of love. And cowardice.

The Hale residence sighed the night.



So did the stars above it.

So did Emmanuelle. "As I thought, your brother's still useless." Emmanuelle spited Palmira. But there were things that she hasn't told Carver, "We'll cross the bridge when we get there," she mumbled to herself. She was no better.

At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 32- Hail Rain and Sunshine
« Reply #100 on: April 29, 2015, 07:03:52 AM »
We reach the top
We took the fall
But we laughed through it all
Cause dreaming of them better days
Has always been our way


Hail Rain or Sunshine
What it's like to go by The Script

Dong. Dong. Dong. It was the roar of the giant school bell set up in the school yard. It roared of lies. And pleasantries.

Pink and yellow children started running, some were already scrambling to their seats. Green and blue, and orange, red. Dragon Valley was a palette of colors, pastel and rich. So were the trees.



"What are you doing?" The girl asked the boy who got up his seat. "The gecko's gone," he answered. But that wasn't all. He thought about how he hated that there was a random woman's picture in a classroom's battered shelf. But that wasn't what the girl had in mind, "And Aiden!" she exclaimed.



The bell roared its last, and the boy walked back to his seat. The teacher started his roll call, name after name, from the Cornell's, to more names, to the two Hale's. The teacher cleared his throat, as he called out the first Hale child, "Bunny?" A meek boy at the third row to the window raised his hand slowly and uttered an inaudible "Here."



Bunny's name was Esteban, but his apparent meekness got him his nickname. Even his teachers call him Bunny. "I see you." The teacher called out to Bunny, who was now gazing out the window. He let Bunny be Bunny. He had other names to call out, like the next Hale, "Iridessa?" She thought for a moment, but quickly announced her presence to the whole class, "Here!" That prompted the teacher to say, "Well, young lady. I expect you to be here." The Mithrilen's were next. And then Nix. "Aiden?" No response. "Where's Aiden?" The whole class but the twins turned to Aiden's empty seat behind them. "He's probably playing with lizards again," Iridessa blurted out, and kept quiet thoughtfully.



"Then you know where to find him?" "Maybe?" Iridessa answered playfully. The teacher turned to the other twin, "Bunny?" "Yes, Teacher." "Would you please go get him?" "Teehee, okay teacher," Iridessa butt in. "Would you please accompany your sister?" Bunny nodded. And the twins ran, "No running!" Too late.



They knew that Aiden hid in some kind of rabbit hole in an old tree, past the other trees that stick out this part of the school. The tree stood alone, overlooking the ravine, and the grove of trees on the other side. What a solitary tree. In one Iridessa's speeches, "What a lonely tree."



Run they did, until the tree which they named "The Great Old."
"The Great Old what?" Aiden immediately reacted to Iridessa's eager suggestion. "What does it matter? The Great Old is great as it is!" "No! It doesn't make sense, Dess." "Ew, gross. Stop calling me that." "I'm saying that it doesn't make sense!" "So what?" They both turned to Bunny who kept his silence throughout their argument. "What?" Bunny raised his brow. "Well? It's one-one. It's obvious that you have to say something," it was the most fluid sentence that Aiden ever came up with, and Bunny smirked at that. It's just a tree, Bunny wanted to say, but instead said, "The Great Old... Tree." "That's so boring, Bun!" Aiden cringed. "But it makes sense. You wanted something that made sense." Feeling that she had won, she stood from cross-sitting and announced at the two of them, "Hah! I'm telling you! We should just go with 'The Great Old!' We won't even have to think about what kind of old great thing it is." "She has a point, you know,"  Bunny commented. "Fine. This is so unfair. You two are a bundle. I hate it!" "Nope." Bunny suppressed the evil little smile along with the thought that what Aiden hates more is something else. And it had a lot to do with his twin, who happened to like speeches a lot.



But that was a memory.
Now, they were on a mission to bring Aiden back to their classroom.

"Aiden?" It was Iridessa who called out first. "Come on, Aiden. Teacher's looking for you!" She added, but Aiden responded with silence. "What are you planning?" Bunny stated his question bluntly, unlike his usual demeanor, unlike the behavior everyone else sees. With them, he could say anything and be anything. He didn't have to pretend.



"What are you two doing here?" Aiden replied. "You don't answer a question with a question, okay?" Iridessa commented, before Bunny could say anything. "I don't wanna go back." He slouched. "Get up, you big baby. Teacher's looking for you. And we already told him that we're coming to get you!" "You shouldn't have." "Why are you being unreasonable!" Iridessa was growing irritated. Bunny decided to step in, "Stop it. You too, Aiden, if you don't get out of there soon, Teacher will come looking for us, too. Get up. We're going to talk about this like grown-ups later." It was laughably adult for a nine-year old. "Yeah! We're going to talk about it later!" Iridessa grew excited, but "No," Aiden corrected him, "This is going to be between me and Bunny." "Why are you being mean!" Bunny resolved to grab Aiden out of his rabbit hole, and pull his sister along while uttering, "We're all going back." They stopped at the fountain, with Iridessa and Aiden seated apart. Way too apart.



Bunny said, "Now, say sorry." "Sorry!" Iridessa was quick to apologize first, Aiden was hesitant. And silent. Iridessa grew impatient and pulled Aiden away from the fountain. He didn't struggle, but he walked heavily. "What are you waiting for! I already apologized!" He looked at her and kept quiet. "What! I already said sorry! Sorry!" "Hey-" Bunny didn't finish, but he did hear Aiden say "Sorry, okay!", and he did see his sister get pushed by Aiden, who ran off. Predictably, Iridessa's eyes welled up. She wanted to cry, but she stopped herself from giving in to her tears. "That jerk! You're a jerk, too, Bunny!" Iridessa ran back to the classroom on her own. Not before hitting her twin's arm first, "Jerk!" She ran sobbing.



"Kids." Bunny kicked an invisible pebble off the ground, dug his hand into his pocket, and took his time walking. That face- Aiden wanted to talk to him, without Iridessa gawking like a stupid animal. "Gawking," he thought, can only be either stupid or rude. He settled for stupid. He knew what this was about. He clicked his tongue and whistled happily.

At nine, Aiden was being the kid he was expected to be. Iridessa was the same. As for Bunny, well. Bunny was being Bunny, who always thinks about their father, who also used to take his sweet time walking. He thought about rain and sunshine, Aiden with his rain-drooped hair and Iridessa's iridescent vibrance. He thought about hail. He thought about Bunny.

Bunny walked up the creaky old staircase to their room, and cried his own song of ding, dong, dong to the wind.
Someone was waking up soon.

To a dream of a starry night, which slowly enveloped the stars to a total black.
To a wedding,



and a morose kiss.



To a promise.



At the moment, Bunny clutched at the knob and turned it. He wasn't even surprised to see that Aiden still hadn't gotten back. He'll be back soon, he thought as he took his seat.



And he was right. But he didn't expect soon to happen.



Aiden was back. He made sure to put the gecko back to where it belonged.



But his thoughts were elsewhere.



Dong. Dong. Dong.
The last sound of the bell.
It roared, it bellowed. But it wasn't done.
All of Dragon Valley could hear its dragon.
Trapped in a bell, like a stupid metaphor.
Gawking, at the lies the Hawkes liked to play with.

Bunny whistled a happy song.
It was time to wake up. Someone was waking up, with a jolt that rung across the overgrown wisteria that plagued the wall.





She looks exactly like her.
Edited to add:
I've asked for Livvie's permission regarding Aiden for Blood. And was granted.  ;D
At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 32- Hail Rain or Sunshine
« Reply #101 on: June 07, 2015, 02:47:07 AM »
So, I decided to reread the last couple of chapters before uploading the next one, and darn I feel like I failed. I've been so excited at progressing the story that I did unexplained time skips after flashbacks. Again, without explanation I just went ahead and did what I do best, which is to confuse you. When I wrote it I was so sure it would be good for the story but I might have actually just made things deleterious for me *cough, I meant the story.

Anyway, what I want to say is that I know, it's been a while and I might end up getting Blood dumped among the dead again, but what I really want to say is that I'll update (after some self-deliberation) before June ends.  :-X

The same goes for I, Iridessa- because, doing two posts for the same purpose will get me somewhere not good.

Sincere thanks to my readers  :'(
At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]

Offline cainspath

  • Fluffy is my hair's first name.
  • Townie
  • ***
  • Posts: 184
  • Occasionally bipolar; always multipolar.
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 33- Beautiful Goodbye
« Reply #102 on: June 29, 2015, 09:40:39 PM »
Forgive the lack of dramatic scenery.  :-X


I count the ways I let you down
On my fingers and toes but I'm running out
Clever words can't help me now
I grip you tight but you're slipping out



a
Beautiful Goodbye
has the color of Maroon 5




Bunny disappeared immediately after class- Aiden, too. Iridessa muddled the thought of being left out, "Again!" She kicked at a pebble and growled. She sounded like Aiden's stomach when he's hungry, "Stupid boys!" she sulked, irritated, while rummaging her Life-and-Learning-issued purse. Her lips were puckered to a kiss, and her brows met at the top of her cringed nose. She didn't like being excluded by Bunny and Aiden. "We're brothers, aren't we?" She twiddled with the lace that hung her fluffy purse. "We're brothers, aren't we?" she repeated.

Iridessa dwelt on feeling excluded but soon decided to bring her mood to Aiden's rabbit hole. "It's not like it's his rabbit hole," she mumbled, as she busily fanned the guilt in her gut away. Soon, she found herself pushing one foot into the hole. And then the whole leg. And another, until she found herself comfortably cuddled by the roots.

They were brown. And black.

They were the color of her hair, who sat patiently across a wisteria plagued-room. But the lack of light would make you wonder if her hair was indeed brown. It might as well be black. Whatever the case, she had been waiting anxiously for the slumbering man to wake. The wings engraved onto her back were aching, threatening to break out of the flesh and skin that seal them. She wondered if this was a sign.

Iridessa was still angry, but she was starving, "I want to go home!" Wherever Bunny went, and whether he was with Aiden, he was simply taking too long. She wanted to go home, but the roots and the earth and the bit of weed was comfortable. Iridessa dug at her fluffy purse for some candied pumpkin and something that her aunt called pastillas de leche. She got herself two of each and delighted at the soft milk treat, obviously preferring it to the candied pumpkin. Even if her aunt made them sweet with sugar, pumpkin was still a vegetable. Her Aunt Carver made them, who loved to cook next to dissecting things. She giggled. Aunt Carver was interesting, and she adored her aunt. But vegetables were vegetables.

Her aunt heard the sleeping man shift, who was slowly feeling the pain in his gut. The man was sluggish, heavy, he could barely open his eyes. His hand was numb, but he struggled to reach for the back of his aching neck. The pain skulked down his spine. "Palmira?" His last memory was from the wedding. Now he finds himself in a cold, dim room that smelled of old age and earth. "Where-" He slumped back to bed, he felt himself heavy. Heavier.



"Azrael!" The woman rose, and hurried to assist him. "Who are you?" Azrael shot a confused look at her. "You're back! You're awake!" The redundancy consoled her. "You... were at my wedding." Something in his aching gut told him that this woman was more than just a wedding guest, that this woman was family. But his priorities were in a different order. "Yes. Yes! I need to get Garrett." Azrael ignored her. He was still trapped in a memory, "Where's... Palmira? Where are my babies?" She only knotted her brows, and pursed her lips. "Where are they?" He repeated. She didn't answer, but he could see and feel what this woman felt, "You're sorry?" "You- you don't remember?" "What-"



He didn't.
He did.

And I remember your eyes were so bright
When I first met you, so in love that night
And now I'm kissing your tears goodnight
And I can't take it, you're even perfect when you cry


Azrael collapsed into the bed.
There were no tears to kiss, no more bright eyes to look into.



"She's-" he couldn't bring himself to say it. "Where are they?" She didn't answer. "Where are they!" "Azrael, calm down! Please." "What happened to them? Where am I?" "You've been.. gone long." "What are you saying?" She refused to answer him. The silence angered Azrael, but he was weak, "Where are my children! Where are they!" It became a chant. "Azrael, please. Listen." "Where are they! I need to see them!" "You might not recognize them anymore." He was puzzled, thinking that there would be no way he wouldn't know his own children. He pushed her away and charged out of the room, but he fell.

He struggled to stand himself up. But he felt excruciating pain in his wrists and ankles. Like pins and needles. He gathered up the sleeves messily, clumsily, and saw marks tattooed on his wrists. "These-" They hurt, his ankles hurt, like a thousand needles piercing through his skin. He scrambled to see what caused the pain. "What- Where are they!" "They'll be here soon, but you need to calm down first." "Calm down? My wife is dead... Where are my children? Where are they! Answer me!" He shook her. It was her turn to push him away, "Stop it, you're hurting me!" "Where did you- By gods, what did you do to them?" His eyes leaked desperation but she could only say, "Azrael, please."

His anger turned into frustration quickly, and to defeat. He was sobbing. "I need to see them. I need to see them..."

Carver wanted to tell him, "I'm your brother. Well, your sister. And those markings are seals. Or more like talismans. Or so I was told, because your daughter's still eating you alive. Your life force anyway." Carver practiced it countless times, awkwardly, over the years and regretted it every time. Palmira died thinking she had the solution. Carver couldn't tell him. Not right now. Not when Azrael's sobs grew distorted and broken.

Azrael was on the ground.
Carver could only look at him.
And listen.
Even if all that came out of his mouth was "Please."
He begged.

When did the rain become a storm?
When did the clouds begin to form?


Bunny strode, whistling, to the The Great Old. Iridessa, who was sleeping, woke to the growing tune that came gliding off the sides of Bunny's mouth. She woke up lazily and held onto the entrance of the burrow to get herself out, "Where were you?" She asked her twin sleepily. "Hmm," he whistled still, "Let's go home, rainbow." "I don't like that nickname, Bun." "Tell Aunt Carver that, okay?" Heh, he thought further, Aunt. "But-! You're late. You know that?" "Yeah. That's why I ran here quickly. Like, ASAP." "You ran?" She raised her brow, "From what Or where?" "What are you insinuating?" "Insinuating?" "Stop mimicking me, trouble-maker." "What the hell, Bun. I waited for you until dark, and you're telling me ungrateful things." "How old are we?" "Well, where were you?" "Leave me alone, twin." I was with Aiden, listening to his mumblings and rants. Like  a brother, he wanted to say. But simply because Iridessa thinks Aiden to be. "Psh." She blew the tuft of hair that strayed away from her braid, "Come on, where were you?" "Let's just go home," Bunny held his sister's hand. They walked, 'We're walking home?" "No, stupid. We're not." "Quit calling me stupid." "But stupid suits you." "Wow. I'm in awe." He managed to wriggle himself out of his twin's persistence; combined with Iridessa's absent-mindedness, well, what an amazing feat.

Qullaia finished her spell just in time. She blew her hand soon after casting and began talking to herself. With everyone going in and out of the house for years, and without so much a greeting, she grew a habit of talking to herself. Yet she couldn't blame them, Carver and Garrett couldn't possibly stay cooed in the same house with Azrael. Hawkes drew each other's power out, "Which is especially why I painstakingly set up this barrier! Everyday! What a stubborn pair of uncles!" But even if the barrier was high-tiered even for their Mayfair hunters, it wasn't perfect.



Azrael alone could draw out his surroundings essence: sometimes to himself, sometimes back to wherever he got them. Whichever the case, these essences, spirits, forces, or however one wishes to call them, seep out of the barrier. His first years of slumber were the most turbulent times.
But that was then.

Now, Carver felt the metal door from above them open, and then close. "They're home." "Who's home?" Azrael asked as he felt the same vibration reverberate, and dissipate slowly. His memories were creeping back to him, sweetly, gently. They were poison, and they clung to his veins. But they gave him a repulsive sense of calm.

Clung. And a lighter cling!
Bolts were being unlocked, and Azrael could see that the woman was now worried. She flew.
The woman flew.
Lost, Azrael dragged himself to a stern-looking seat. Just like that, "She left."

Azrael sat there unmoved for what seemed to be a long time, until the indistinct chatter that came from across the room. He shifted. Curiosity challenged him to open the door, or at least pry behind it. Reason bombarded him with consequences. And anyway, he still couldn't move properly. He sat there, seemingly waiting for his doom.



Until the thought of his children.

"You're home," Quillaia beamed, but she looked sad. "Why are you forcing yourself?" Bunny was the first to point it out. "Oh, you know. Life," she replied. "Stop it Qui, you sound like Bunny," Iridessa smirked. "Rainbow," Quillaia smiled at her cousin. "Okay, I'm shutting up." They shuffled, a busy pair they were, before deciding to sit. "We should sit, Bun." "It's not a good idea to sit?" "Why not?" Iridessa was curious. "Quillaia's dazed. We don't like it when Quillaia's dazed." "Sigh, my nine-year old darlings." "No, we're probably older than you," Iridessa joked. "Oh, yes you are!" Quillaia's eyes sparkled, making Iridessa blurt out, "You look like a sticker, Qui," "You mean, an emoji, right?" Bunny had his share in this rather stimulating conversation. "I don't know what those are, honey."



"He's awake, isn't he?" Bunny answered before Iridessa could ask. "Yes, yes! I just finished casting the barrier." "You do that everyday. Sorry, that dad is-" "It's okay, little rainbow." "Why is it that when you say it, it doesn't sound so bad?" "Hahaha!" It was a short laughter, Quillaia was the only one who could blurt out a gasp of laughter and act like she didn't.



But in Azrael, panicked stirred. He scrambled to the door. He almost crawled, when he successfully walked in two legs, he stooped. He was heavy. Every step was heavier. His memories wouldn't elude him. They crept as he did with every joint, and muscle, as well as with every pain that seared through them.

A different woman opened the door, but she seemed more like a girl.
"Uncle!" "Uncle?" Azrael thought. "Oh, my- Here let me help you." She immediately helped him up, and brought him back to bed. "You..." His memories and dreams flooded him as soon as he gasped his remembrance. Most of them weren't even his memories. He simply uttered, "Quillaia?" "Yes! Here... Ah, careful!" "A klutz," Azrael had time for wasteful thoughts, it made him chuckle a low, sincere sound. He quickly sealed his mouth when he realized the inappropriateness of a joke at a time like this. At the same time, he couldn't help it. Even if this place was cold and dark, it felt like home.

His thoughts were interrupted by the girl, "I'm glad you've finally woken up!" "How- how long have I been asleep?" "Nine years. Almost ten. But I'm glad you're back!" "Ten?" This girl talked as if ten years of slumber was nothing, even answering this rhetorical question with "Yes!" As well as adding, "The twins have grown up now! They always visit you. Everyday. Do you hear them talk to you? They always talk to you, Uncle. Ah, silly me. Of course you hear them!" "You talk-, I didn't think Aveline's daughter would be-" he trailed off, realizing how rude he would have sounded, and how calm he was now, "I'm sorry, Quillaia. I'm still lost. I don't know what's happening. Well, vaguely. I, ah. Can't settle for vague." "I just got excited, we've been waiting for you to wake up for so long!"

A quick stab: the heartache was real. "Haahh!" He put one hand over his face, and then another. He didn't say anything for that while. For so long. "I didn't even have time to mourn." He laughed as he cried. His tears stained him, while his empty laughter echoed through the room. "I'm pathetic, aren't I?." "No, Uncle. You're sad. Very sad," she looked at him wallow in confusion. "Leave," he told her but she didn't want to, "Get out." Now, she did, but she looked back at the man she called uncle.

She closed the door gently and whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Wait!" But Quillaia had already closed the door.

"Can we go see dad?" "Oh, rainbow," Quillaia smiled sadly.
"Where's Aunt Carver?" Bunny asked her before she could continue. "She went to get him.' Is Garrett so hard to say?  'Your father's awake, after all," Quillaia continued. "Where did she get him?" "Hmmm. Somewhere, hon. Somewhere." What a difficult woman, Bunny twitched, but he wasn't discouraged, "So, we can't go see him?" "No, not yet, I'm afraid."
Iridessa butt in, "Why not? We always got to see him when he was asleep!"
That's right, tell her. "Your dad needs some time to... think. And..." "This isn't fair, Qui. We've waited for Dad to wake up since forever!" "It's been forever, huh? I know how you feel. I've been waiting for him to wake up, too. Since forever," her eyes softened as she looked at Iridessa. It was a different forever for her. "Then what are we gonna do now?" Iridessa asked Quillaia with plea. "We wait for them."
We're just going to see him. What's so different with seeing him now and seeing him later? Quillaia's gaze slowly shifted to Bunny. He panicked, but it didn't show on his face. He was good at that, very. "Is something wrong, Bun?" Quillaia asked him. "Nothing. I- We just want to see Dad." She touched his cheek, "Oh, you two. I know how you feel. I really do."
"But! But-!" Iridessa pleaded.
"Yes. We want to see him," Bunny simply uttered.
They had already gotten off the ill-colored trophy bench, as Carver had called it. For the sole reason it looked hideous.
"You can't. Not yet."



And let them go, let them fly
Holding back won't turn back time
Believe me, I've tried


---

"I told you not to risk coming here." "But he's awake, and he's confused." "Naive. I told you I'd come, didn't I?" "What does it matter now? I'm already here." "Were you careful?" "Yes." "Then, go back." "I came to get you. Aren't you coming with me?" "Rash. You're no child, Carver." "So cold." "How humorous." "You mock me, brother." "Oh, do I?" he smirked. "Gale's nastiness has gone into you. But really, no chance of tagging along?" "Tagging along. I doubt it," he admitted with a quick playful smile in his lips, "I'll be there sooner than you expect me, Carver."
But Carver had already flown off. "It's been nine years, huh?" Garrett sucked in, and waited for Gale, "Still surprised by your sister's reawakened power?" "Still not used to having another sister." He gave a quick, light laugh and continued, "Many things have changed." "What hasn't?" "The torment of losing my little girl." "Do you ever wonder what Celestia might think of this?" "Of what of this madness?" "All of it." "Hah, what might she think of this I wonder. But why must we trouble ourselves with what has passed? She's gone into her own little world now." "You're stalling, Hawke. Your brother's waiting and he's con--- fuzzled," Gale smiled. "Confuzzled. How odd." "Oh, I just happened to hear it somewhere."


I suppose this isn't what you'd call an inspired chapter.
At the end of the day, Life should ask you, "Do you want to save changes?"

How the misc-tery continues:
I, Iridessa: 3rd [What happens at home]

Why not try a misc-stery?
Blood of the Mayfair: 32nd [Hail Rain and Sunshine]

or a Reincarnation Project:
Hawke Revival: 26th [Hale Bonding]

Offline Nutella

  • Watcher
  • ******
  • Posts: 2883
Re: Blood of the Mayfair: Chapter 32- Hail Rain or Sunshine
« Reply #103 on: December 29, 2015, 11:51:39 AM »
I'm moving this to the Stories Graveyard due to inactivity.  @cainspath - you can revive this story by contacting a moderator.

Original Storyboard: Sims 3 Miscellaneous Stories