Edge Town-City of Light

Alexander

"My associates. Regretfully, I have always been a terrible shot." Arthur wasn't anywhere near as subtle in his approach and immediately went for 'macho dick waving context,' and as it turned out, even if he didn't look like the sort of person who should consider ditching the 'roids, he had an extremely firm handshake. Something was up with him, even if his exact nature was ambiguous. "Arthur is fine, if the full name is a bit too much for you. 'Sir Arthur,' technically, but let's not dwell on the formalities, eh?"

He gave Lilaine a bland smile as she passed, letting the implied diss go like water off a duck's back. He seemed remarkably self-assured for someone in the same room as a White Court vampire, which was probably the strangest part of the whole affair.

"And no worry, this should not take long. In fact, I can give you the elevator pitch while we walk to the bar. I am here on behalf of my own associates, but also on behalf of another...interested party in this little family drama you find yourself part of."

Leon

“Thrice asked, and once answered” The swan-woman murmured softly, looking at Leon with bashful curiosity through her lashes. “I am the White Swan, the Odette, if it pleases you, sir.”

“Your lady is my sister; I come on behalf of my mother and liege.” She continued, folding her hands, and giving a court-perfect curtsy. “And neither my mother nor I plan to do something so horrible as to lock her in an Oubliette. She will resume her place in the court.”

The birds had stilled again. They were watching Leon with the unnatural, focused anticipation of before. Waiting.

Alexander

Alexander frowned, turning away from Arthur to glance at Ms Wagner when he hear her murmur. He couldn’t quite catch it, but he swore he heard the phrase “fuck you right?”

She definitely had a mouth when she thought he wasn’t listening.

It did cheer him up, however. It also, oddly, cheered him up to know that his new enemy wasn’t pure human. It added to the challenge. And increased the chance that Arthur was going to be more prideful than practical.

As if this conversation alone wasn’t a proper indication. Some mortal assassins would have skipped the conversation, and gone straight to “car bombs.”

“I didn’t know my Aunt did long-distance.” Alexander replied blandly, focusing back on his conversation with Arthur. “Did she give you her premium snapchat?”

He waved his hand, desperately hoping Arthur wouldn’t actually answer his question.

“Very well. Pitch me.”

Alexander

"She certainly does long-distance wire transfers, knowing that my associates were paid quite handsomely for this whole affair." No mention of him being paid, but then, he didn't look like the type who was hurting for spare cash.

"Originally, we were just going to come at you, of course, but a certain Duchesse de Chardonneau insisted on making things difficult. She will, should you agree to these terms, put forward a motion of adoption for you and your siblings, to become part of her extended family. This would involve giving up any and all attempts to reclaim Las Vegas and leave it entirely in the hands of your dear Aunt Sofia."

As they walked, they finally reached the bar, with a small number of residents getting in a chance to get an early start on their partying.

"But, should you accept the formal adoption, she made some very convincing threats to my colleagues that made them pause and reconsider their pursuits. Not me, of course. I know better than to expect martial competence from the French, but not all of them are so enlightened to have seen through the frogs' overtures at pretending to be lions, and what the boss' word says still goes." He gestured to himself and the hotel. "So, here I am. On the one hand, new family bonds. On the other hand, freedom and agonizing death. Either way, you have twenty-four hours to make a decision, after which my colleagues will consider you and your family a fair target."

Leon made a thoughtful noise as he mentally examined the statement, there did seem to be some large loopholes, but they were Fortune's family. Even Fae care about their family right? They wouldn't be needlessly dickish towards their own. Hell the white court vampire Thornes seemed to mostly care about their own family. If you discount the patricide. On the other hand Fortune had said she wanted to be safe behind a threshold right before passing out. Which was something she had also said during their first meeting. Coupled with some vague implications that her home wasn't some place she liked...

"I'm mostly inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt at this point, but this is I feel a decision Fortune herself should be making. She said she wanted to rest behind a threshold. So, if in a day or two she's still unconscious, or if her condition suddenly worsens, I'll contact you to retrieve her. If she does wake up, I will inform her of your desire for her to return to your court and leave the decision in her hands."

Leon eyed the birds, suspecting they wouldn't be happy with him, and already mentally preparing himself to fight more Fae. Well its not like he didn't always have iron on him.

Edited by Kosjurake on Mar 28th 2020 at 2:33:13 PM

Leon

The Odette’s coy, hopeful gaze melted into a look of disappointment. Not anger—or even chiding. No, it was more as if she was used to being constantly disappointed or having her advice ignored, and yet, each time was a new surprise.

“Are you certain? Of course, you must be—” She sighed. “I fear the face she has shown you, Sir Knight, is not her true face. The Odile is a creature of many deceptions—and yet…”

The Odette turned, and as one, the flock shifted its wings to follow. In profile, she looked even more like a fairy-tale princess, gems glittering in her dress, eyes shining doe-ishly, as though she were on the edge of tears. It truly seemed that Leon had cruelty disappointed her.

“Perhaps it will all turn out well. Perhaps, Perhaps. I bid you farewell, Sir Knight...I fear my mother’s men will not be kind.”

And with that, she curtseyed, and drew her cloak around her shoulders again. A moment later, a white swan stood in her place, in the middle of the flock of ravens. She beat her wings, and took flight, a blast of air ruffling Leon’s hair from the force of her departure. A chorus of caws shook the air as the rest of the flock followed.

Across the street, the second swan glared at Leon balefully. Despite being a bird, he could almost sense the contempt radiating off it, from its glossy black eyes, to scaly black feet. It let out a dismissive coor, and then took flight as well.

And then Fortune and Leon were alone on Rollo’s porch under the cloudy Paris sky, as once more, snow began to gently float down.

Fortune murmured fitfully, nestling deeper into Leon’s chest.

Leon arcs an eyebrow almost surprised he got out of a chat with fae without one of them trying to tear his face off. Of course there was a still off handed implied threat of other fae coming around to beat him up.

"Historically, fae being unkind to me, ends poorly for the fae. But thanks for the warning. Good bye."

He eyed the birds as they flew off half tempted to flip the second swan the bird but he refrained. Once they were out of sight he headed inside with Fortune. Hopefully, she'd get better soon, because he now had lots of questions. Or well questions that now needed to be answered rather then left alone. If he wasn't immediately accosted by anyone he'd set Fortune up on the couch first thing.

Melina leaned over Leon's shoulder.

"Hey, no troubles I assume? No police stopping you for kidnapping?"

Jarl

"No, the only people who get arrested for kidnapping around here are the people who haven't committed any kidnappings. Anything else would mean they're actually good at their jobs."

Jarl emerged from the basement with the mystery object revealed.

Those with long memories might remember him carrying a bow once upon a time. Apparently, he'd since switched it out, with the new one being a mid-sized composite bow. Not as long or unwieldy as a flatbow or a selfbow, and not as small as a composite bow could be, but at least it was better than the unwieldy monster he had before for doing things like 'carrying stuff in a briefcase.'

"I just had to test to make sure the enchantments are still functional. Good news, they are! I'll save the final round of tests for the Nazis."

"Also, Leon, your BFF on the force wants to know where de Goff is and was laboring under the delusion that I was affiliated with the scrubs who still perform medieval executions. You know, in case it ever comes up."

Alexander

Alexander

“...I see.”

Alexander would dearly have loved to make another veiled jab, but Arthur had tossed him a curveball. On the face of it, adult adoption of his entire family by a random, terrifying, immortal frenchwoman was borderline absurd. However, White Court were staunchly traditional, even if they’d adapted better to the modern world than most inhumans. And it wasn’t like it was even that weird of a human concept—he’d heard of wealthy childless magnates from China and the Middle East doing it from time to time. It wasn’t like he’d be set to inherit anything, probably, because this was definitely going to be a Duchesse-sided deal. He was basically a shiny, lust-flavored weapon to add to to her armory

Back to being a pawn in the grand game, just like he’d been for Giovanni. Hey, maybe the Duchesse would treat them all better than dear old dad had—that would be amusing, if the Fear-eaters ended up kinder than the inccubi.

And they’re definitely going to try to get Bethany to turn.

Alexander frowned, a little core of ice settling in his stomach.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t take a shot at killing the Duchesse when things inevitably went wrong. But he was pretty sure she was stronger than Giovanni had been. And if he killed two elders, he’d probably end up getting kicked out of the White Court entirely. And he didn't have the protection of Freya anymore, unless a stupid fucking cat counted.

“Whiskey. On the rocks.” Alexander said, still making a show of thinking, nodding over to Cobby. “He’s buying.”

It was definitely not too early to start drinking today.

“You know, you’re coming to me with such a sweet offering, Arthur. Did one of your guys take a shot at my sibling before or after the Duchesse gave you call?” Alexander mused, picking up his drink, and taking a sip. His mouth tingled pleasantly. It was too much to hope he’d actually get drink, but he could at least distract himself a little. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. Like you said, I’ve got a day to think about it. Do you think I’m the Duchesse’s type?”

Alexander turned, giving Arthur his worst smoulder—the square jaw, broody eye, sucked-in-cheeks hollywood thing that looked mildly constipated. He didn’t even care enough to put Hunger into it. He just wanted the conversation done with.

“Don’t spare my ego, now.”

Twenty-four hours. Long enough to bug out of the hotel, and start getting ready to play “hunt the hunters.” Man, Samson, these new Van-Helsing's wannabes, his Raith Cousin in town, Jarl—He’d certainly made friends in Paris fast.

Annette settled into a weird sort of spot next to Alexander, on the opposite side that Cobknob had seated himself. She still hoped that he was completely ignoring her. So far, so good.

And since she was being ignored she had an easier time listening from an uninterrupted distance. Okay. The Duchess was keeping some amount of heat off of them for some reason, but she kind of recalled her splashing acid on one of her daughter's—or something's—faces before passing out in her restaurant, and had a feeling Annette would not be included in this little "protection racket" scheme. If Alexander didn't remember that she'd remind him while the assassin was not here.

Even if Alexander did decide it was the safest option, Corncob was quick to point out that it wouldn't deter every one of the hit-persons coming for them, just enough of them. He wasn't scared of the threats at all. So he either thought he was better than a God-knows-how-old vampire or just better than the French. His name did sound British. So. That tracked.

But twenty-four hours was plenty of time. More than she had until he potion ran out in...three hours? She believed it was three but...no, yeah, that sounded right. Okay. So that was enough time to get to another hotel somehow without being followed. The Thornes had to have some sort of experience with that, right?...right?

What was Alexander thinking right now, though? Was he serious about considering the Duchess as a viable protection? Again, Annette had to wonder about his own parents. The words "legal adoption" were very weird to hear toward an adult, but it also had some implications about his actual parents. None to happy ones.

Dead or disowned, though, that was the real question.

Not that I'll be asking it any time soon...

Annette kept her head down, kept quiet, and kept still. The sooner this dumb conversation with a man literally sent to kill them came to an end the sooner they could leave.

Alex And Anne

"Before, of course. Before, you were a target. It's only the Duchesse's generosity that has briefly made it not so, my young friend." Arthur, it turned out, looked extremely smug when he had a smile plastered all over his face.

"I would not be the right person to judge such things as your attractiveness to withered old crones, I fear. Although it seems you've already made up your mind, considering how much you are acting like a flippant child, I would like to leave you with a small reminder of what exactly you are signing up for." He reached into his pocket for a switchblade, flicking the blade out, turned it over in his hand and jabbed it towards his wrist. In 99% of cases, it would sever a major artery and he would be extremely dead extremely fast.

Instead, the switchblade broke. It was not merely that it bent, or stopped short because of his manual dexterity. The blade impacted with his exposed wrist and snapped in two, one end making a shallow dent in the bar table.

"Enjoy your twenty-four hours, Mister Thorne. They start as of right now." He reached into his suit for a wad of bills, handing them to a thoroughly baffled waitress. "For the damages, mademoiselle. And my friend's liquor."

And, with that, he got up and started walking toward the exit. "Don't find us if you change your mind, now. We'll find you."

"If they were gonna stop me for kidnapping it wouldn't be about Fortune."

Leon could have mentioned the encounter with Fortune's siblings, but well that might want to wait til Fortune could weigh in on her family woes. Though he might still bring it up anyways when they convene for their strategy council in a bit.

"Speaking of kidnapping," Leon mutters as Jarl appears.

"While I'm the primary target to blame for that, you did still aid in it. I'd say I'd have a talk with Proteau about it, but I'm pretty sure that'll just make our position with the law worse. 'Hey man, Jarl didn't kidnap that art professor warlock, I did.' Is something I'm sure would go over great."

Leon glanced at Melina, but assumed since she called him a Warden earlier she already knew full well what sort of bullshit they would get up to legally.

"And I really doubt he'd agree with my take on jurisdictions."

"The Problem with Protieu is that he's the sort of Man who's frankly too stubborn to accept that there sometimes must be compromise and resents it in every form." Tim sighed.

"The French Republic does not have a paragraph for endangering the lives of others with magic on the books, so beyond scouring the offender with his withering glances he has no actual legal recourse left to him unless he makes something up to fill the holes in the indictment. Which is not exactly legal moral high ground either."

He sat down and put one leg over another. "The Laws may be harsh but we have all seen the consequences of Black Magic. We may not like it, and personally I hope for clemency this time, but the Council has enforced these Laws for far longer than France has existed as a Identity. And as a whole, the councils justice - as hard as it is - is treating everyone equal, regardless of class, gender or race. And, speaking as someone who studied Law, the same cannot exactly be said for Protieu's Government."

He shrugged. "We can tell him, everything. We tell him he broke Laws that exist to protect people from abuse by Black Magic. We tell him he will face justice on that. If he can accept the realities of this, good. But if he insists on some sort of Schwanzvergleich because his understanding of justice is based entirely upon his ego...then we politely nod and carry on. The Council has enforced the Laws for longer than there has been a France and it can survive the bruised ego of this one just as well."

He held up the letter. "Meanwhile, we have our actual business to content with."

Edited by 3of4 on Apr 8th 2020 at 12:14:21 PM

"Oh the council will be fine, I'm more concerned about us. I'd rather not end up becoming an international fugitive because we ended up in a situation where we had to break out of jail. Cause I doubt the French Courts are gonna accept "Our government and laws are older then your government and laws" defense."

Leon would move over to the table to discuss the letter assuming Fortune didn't spontaneously awaken.

Tim shrugged. "Well, I doubt if worse comes to worst the Council is going to have him habea the corpus."

He opened the letter.

Edited by 3of4 on Apr 8th 2020 at 7:22:43 PM

"France really isn't the place to pull the 'our institutions are old and crusty and therefore better than you' card, is it," Terry mused. "Like, this is the land of Robespierre. The US's revolution-sempai. They were casting down the ancient order before it was cool.

"Also, a concerning number of people I know here have been picked up by the cops already, so you might wanna approach this thing with a little wariness. And yes, this is me saying that."

He glanced at Fortune on the couch. "So do we need to call the fairy doctor for her? I don't know if socialized medicine covers 'magicked so hard I turned into a bird.'"

Edited by rikalous on Apr 8th 2020 at 10:54:01 AM

Jarl

"Let her rest for now, I think. If her condition doesn't change, I'll try and ask Jack if he knows what could be done to help her. He's not the same Court, or even the same faction, but some things are pretty universal, even among the Fair Folk. Might just be that she's exhausted, though, or struggling with her Choice. In that case, there's really not much we can do until she's picked a road."

Rollo's Townhouse

“Dear Friends,” the letter began, written in smooth, handwritten black ink across a thick sheet of parchment paper, “You have proven yourself willing to act in good faith. Please dine with us tonight at Alleno Paris au Pavillon Ledoyen, 20:00.

Best regards, Claude Fontaine.”

Fortune murmured on the couch, still thrashing fitfully, but looked like she could be starting to wake.

Edited by DrTentacles on Apr 9th 2020 at 5:33:25 AM

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Well, let's hope Fontaine is picking up the check. Otherwise it's going to be a dent in the spending money."

Melina smirked. "Yeah, and we're not exactly ATM people, right?" She turned to Jarl and Leon. "Not sure these two fit the dress code, though."

Tim snorted slightly. "At least Jarl is in the spirit of some of its old time patrons."

Edited by 3of4 on Apr 9th 2020 at 11:36:54 AM

"Am I going to have to get measured for a penguin costume?"

Tim raised an eyebrow at Jarl. "Business Casual should suffice, mainly because I don't get paid enough to try and force you into White Tie."

Melina sat on the couch armrest. "They'd look good in it, though. And I know you wear a fancy suit very well, brother of mine."

He just stared at his sister.

Edited by 3of4 on Apr 11th 2020 at 12:19:11 PM

"I'm starting to regret not packing any fancy clothes. No clue what this restaurant is but there's no way I'm meeting dresscode. Well at least not without Fortune's help again, but even if she wakes up in the next five minutes, she's in no shape for that."

Leon glanced back over his shoulder at the fitful Fortune. The fact that she seemed to be doing stuff in her sleep was hopefully a good sign. Though having a chat about her family was probably going to go poorly.

Melina was meanwhile creeping up beside Terry and get a polaroid out of her bag with a slightly evil smile.

"...What do you have there?" Her brother asked, warily.

"If you really want I should be able to bug the Thornes into snagging you a decent suit on short notice. Money is truly the greatest superpower," Terry said, leaning over to investigate the no doubt innocuous photo.

"Shame Jesse's not in town. They'd have a fuckin' ball...with...it...." He trailed off as he processed exactly what he was seeing.

Edited by rikalous on Apr 14th 2020 at 11:53:56 AM