TIMESKIP.

[vrykolakas]

THE BRUCOLAC COURT Unseelie. TITLE Baron of Srathmarbh, Black Omen. OCCUPATION Baron, drugs manufacturer, political thinker gods help him, Umibōzu captain. ABLE TO FAST-TRAVEL Yes; puca. RESIDENCE IN 2,701 Srathmarbh. RESIDENCE IN 2,702 Srathmarbh. MAJOR EVENTS PUBLICATION OF THE REDDENED HILL Being a Personal Account of the Battle of An Carn Ban... [ ✖ ] ADOPTION DISCUSSION "There is no one I would want to do it more." [ ✖ ] COMPLETION OF THE SRATHMARBH SPIRE Description [ ✖ ] PUBLICATION OF THE GOVERNOR A brief meditation on what and what not to do while holding public office. [ ✖ ] BIRTH OF SHAMASH Description [ ✖ ] BIRTH OF ISHTAR Description [ ✖ ] RESCUE OF CHILDREN Description [ ✖ ]

PLANS By the time the timeskip ends, the Brucolac will be in a more stable position, his spire complete and the surrounding lands a buzzing centre of construction and commerce. He will have two children in the care of Alyosha Hazan. SUMMARY OF KNOWN DETAILS Beebins; daring rescue of beebins; becoming reluctantly published; stuff stuff stuff; seeing a scifi film and being the biggest nerd; building a wee town & preparing for ports & shipyards; maybe hunting cloudwhales; tsk'ing unhappily at the cult of the fox TIMELINE OF EVENTS SPRING IN 2,701 (Mar, Apr, May) MARCH - Publication of the Brucolac's The Reddened Hill: The Unseelie Triumph of An Càrn Bàn. Anonymous, though rumour suggests it was one of the Barons. MARCH - A long talk with Alyosha about adoption. APRIL 5TH - The Srathmarbh Spire is completed and the name 'Srathmarbh' finally begins to catch on. Construction workers are encouraged to stay and continue building on the town proper. Whispers abound of future, grander plans (the Brucolac himself ensures these whispers circulate). Various grants and start-up loans are offered to would-be business-owners. APRIL - Hunting cloudwhales for their precious floaty bones. MAY - Publication of The Governor. Anonymous/under penname. MAY - A run-down rural farmhouse west of Mair is chosen for the location at which to base the Brucolac & Dasha's growing drugs business. MAY - Aileas an Seabhac requests that the Brucolac act as her diplomat to help smoothe over tensions between the vampires and the elves. MAY - Those fucking swans. The Brucolac will scoop up a few and be seen to pour what wealth is gained from them straight back into Srathmarbh. SUMMER IN 2,701 (Jun, Jul, Aug) JUNE - Two vampire entrepreneurs take advantage of the Brucolac's offered start-up loans and begin to create a printing press in Srathmarbh. JUNE - The Brucolac participates in the Treun summer tourney, in the Melee category! Yseult comes to watch; the rumours which have long abounded about the Brucolac's kept woman in Mair become noisier. The event ends terribly for them when, during the daytime, Yseult is attacked by copycats of the fox cult for her association with shardbearers. JULY - Perhaps it's the rich heat of the summer sun which the slakemoths respond to? Or the blood in the air. They wrap themselves up in cocoons and emerge terrible, but are manageable. Don't ask how. JULY - An attempt is made to feed one Mr Bones to the slakemoths. AUGUST - The Festival of Shadow. FALL IN 2,701 (Sept, Oct, Nov) EARLY SEPTEMBER - The Brucolac is affected by the scrambling of the translation enchantment; he speaks some stilted Drabbish, and a whole heap of languages from his world, which are all totally useless to him. Expect terrible handwriting and a lot of gestures. Also expect one great big universally-understandable I TOLD YOU SO. SEPTEMBER - The Srathmarbh press is complete and ready for business! Grants for teachers and educators, or literate people wishing to become teachers and educators, are refined and more widely publicised. SEPTEMBER 29TH - Birth of Shamash, son of Verla. OCTOBER 3RD - Birth of Ishtar, daughter of Yseult. OCTOBER 5TH? - By the grace of the Unseelie monarchs, the children are returned, delivered safely to the arms of Alyosha Hazan. OCTOBER 25TH - 30TH - Samhain! An excuse to be naked with loved ones. NOVEMBER - Some of the escaped criminals are former employees of Mr Bones, out for vengeance or perhaps out for gainful employment now that Mr Bones is no longer quite the force he was. The Brucolac puts out feelers to ascertain various situations and deal with them appropriately. WINTER IN 2,701/2,702 (Dec, Jan, Feb) DECEMBER - The Brucolac stays far away from the White Hart. No thanks. Srathmarbh will hold a fervent Yule celebration, which promises to become a tradition. JANUARY - Fuck, what do you mean the slakemoths bred? Oh fuck. FEBRUARY - Yseult causes controversy at the Ostara Festival by anonymously submitting a work named Blindeye, a great abstract mural of wild colours meant to be touched and stroked and stared at with unease. It is torched by a traditionalist. The Brucolac tries to use this to distract from possible re-emergence of elf/vampir tensions caused by the assassinations of elven artists. SPRING IN 2,702 (Mar, Apr) DATE - Description DATE - Description DATE - Description

( codes by whambam )

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[vrykolakas]

His gauntlets were cold where he cupped her face. When he realised she was crying he started as if spooked, leant back, felt his own throat close and swiftly turned all in one to charge ahead of her. Not quite trusting his voice, frowning and gritting his teeth, baffled and frustrated with himself.

He threw open doors before her, not needing her directions when—even with the helm tucked under his arm—he could feel every vibration of movement in the villa, every hushed word and creaking floorboard.

[fairyfoes]

Alyosha followed fast as a concerned lieutenant at his heels; but her attention was no longer on him. It was on the infants in her arms, breathing soft-voiced murmurs into the soft down of their hair. The nonsense one gave up to comfort despite their own panic, entirely witting that they had no way of comprehending. Ishtar's hand touched at her jaw, it made her stammer, heart-clenched while her thoughts crashed around her sudden, desperate possessiveness.

My son, my daughter, my son, my daughter, I won't fail you you, I swear it on my bones; Shamash, Shamash, you're safe now, you're safe, I'll keep you always safe—

It was half a minute and they burst into the sitting room with the waiting women chatting in soft, curious voices together before a lit hearth; one cried out in fear to be so interrupted, made to stand, wide-eyed at the sight of the Brucolac so fearsomely attired.

Alyosha rushed to hush them, stepping out from behind him, "No fear now! He'll do you no harm, is their father.. Please, please, these are my children, and I—" She was speaking too fast, gathered herself, swallowed around the knot in her throat, "My son, my son, he's far too frail, will need whatever you can give. More than I've paid you for; kept at the shoulder night and day, warmed, and—"

The quieter of the women, older, clearly no stranger to children, moved to hush Alyosha feelingly, reached gather Shamash tenderly from her, saying, "Dear bairn, white as a sheet... Hush, hush, milady, we'll do all what we can and then more, don't you fret. Won't be my first was sickly so, as you know."

"Shamash," Aly said, the one word strangely insistent; and at first she almost didn't let him go. Slowly, her arm relaxed. "His name's Shamash. And hers Ishtar."

[vrykolakas]

The Brucolac dropped back, leaned back against the wall, silent, watching; out of his depth, but staring after the children with a taut, nervous expression. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth. He watched with an anxious tenderness, feeling entirely helpless.

Stepping forwards, he put his hand to Alyosha's shoulder. "Blood," he muttered, looking briefly to the older woman. "They're quick, not, ah...of my condition, but they...I suspect it may help." He wet his lips. Added, "Mind Ishtar's teeth. Fangs fit to break skin already."

[fairyfoes]

Alyosha leaned towards the Brucolac, pressing her side to his, drawn tense and taut as a bowstring. Her living hand was trembling finely at her side, though her voice had grown steadier by the time she spoke again.

The drabwurld was full of strange things; both looked surprised, but not for long, and neither horrified. "I'll spare no expense, compensate you well for whatever pain-- to give them what blood you can spare. I'll see that it comes from others, after tonight, make the appropriate arrangements." In the back of her mind she thought of physiological efficiency, stressors, hormones. Refocused on her children, her scarred face creased into an expression of anxious longing.

"Were you with them long?" She asked him, not able to look away even as both women moved to sit, free hands quick with their laces. She shook herself a little at last, nothing I can do, I hate that it is so far out of my hands, hate this powerlessness, turned to look up at the Brucolac, brow creased again. "Ys...? How..?" is she?

[vrykolakas]

"I..." Had he been with them long? He blinked, reached for some sense of time. "I...only the night, and much of it..." He shook his head and moved on. "We ended up in Redgate." No explanation at all, he knew, but he carried on. Tucked her tight to his side, as much to ground himself as her.

Everytime he blinked, the afterimages of hundreds of red-glowing eyes floated across his vision. In the shadows he saw creeping weeds which vanished should he turn to look at them—and so he pointedly didn't, just tightened his jaw at every trick the light conspired to play on his over-tired, hyperaware mind and kept staring forwards. He was struggling to make the link between this—fireside, quiet, the children's wailing ceased—and the rest of the night.

"I left Ys sleeping off a...a godsdamn apocalyptic hangover this evening. She's not on her own."

[fairyfoes]

Both children latched, fed hungrily and noisily. Ishtar bit down, had to be coaxed into gentleness. Alyosha gripped the Brucolac to her, one-armed, needing something to hold. Tipped her face up to him, more furrows growing to line her brow.

Her eyes betrayed all her questions. How did he come by the High King's armour? What had happened? Why Redgate?

She voiced none of them, reading the pauses between his words, remembering how heavily he'd leaned on the wall, stumbled in the courtyard. Reached for his gauntleted hand, careful of its talons, gave it a squeeze.

"I'll see her tomorrow. There's no more either of us can do here but to wait." Her eyes searched his face. "Would you like a hot soak, or straight to rest?"

[vrykolakas]

He tore his eyes from the infants to look to Alyosha when she tightened her grip on him, and could see all the questions she itched to ask scrawled across her face plain as anything. He saw the moment she tamped them all down.

The look he gave her was one of inestimable gratitude. He gripped her hand back, the gauntlet cold even against her bloodless skin, and bowed his head slightly. "Bed, godsfuck, please," he said, voice hoarse. His mouth hooked up at one side, though he still looked, felt as if he were standing in the wreckage of some natural disaster. Amazed at having survived. "Before I fall asleep in this godsdamned carapace. Tomorrow—I'd go with you."

[fairyfoes]

The cold shocked her; she gripped his hand the tighter for it as if she could will him warm, and only peeled her attention from him to shoot one last, hard, longing look back at her children... and turned away. Tugged at the Brucolac's hand to lead him away, body quarter turned to face him. She led him back through the doorway they'd stormed through, silver hand winking in the relatively dim light as she moved to unwork the same gauntlet gently free of his hand as they walked.

"Then we'll go together, tomorrow. Tonight, I'll squire you again and take this burden off of you— what on earth you did with it, how you earned it... Thank you." She swallowed, eyes flitting away, tucked the strange, cold-burning gauntlet under her arm. Opened her hands up to receive the next. "Prying you out of armour and pressing you down into my bed is by far the least I could do."

[vrykolakas]

Shoulders slumping, he followed her gratefully away. "All I did with it was steal them back," he said, voice a low thrum. "And all I did for it was...offer good service."

That was it, he realised. That was what had lifted from him, and left him almost nauseous with the resultant weightlessness. His children were safe and the Unseelie court hadn't quite the leash on him it had had the previous night.

But that meant nothing, he knew. He had done what his court had demanded and in doing so he had stumbled into wanting it. He couldn't give up Srathmarbh any more than he could give up Shamash and Ishtar all over again.

"Please don't thank me," he said, offering his hand for her to unbuckle the gauntlet. Suddenly, "Please don't talk, any more, of obligation—I've—you are not obliged to me," he said, "and I not—ah, no, what do I mean—I mean that I didn't do this, Alyosha, because I was obliged to, though I was. It was...its own reward, how trite, and...and only what—I want to give you, less than I want to give you. Oh, shitssake, shut me up."

[fairyfoes]

She listened, quiet, eyes on him. Slid the second gauntlet under her arm to join the first, leading him around a corner into a narrower hallway, clearly lined with smaller rooms. She nudged a narrow door left half-ajar open with her shoulder, shooting a helpless smile back at him over her shoulder. Used the sleeve of her other arm to rub the faint tracks of earlier tears away.

"Obligation, you fanged fool," she murmured, warmly, and drew him to follow her, skin touching skin now that she'd removed the metal claws. The room was large, without windows, monkishly plain. A luxuriously plush-looking bed, small secretary littered with a few papers and what looked like a thick personal journal, a few low bookshelves crowned here and there with what were clearly personal errata. A jagged, fire-warped red shard of something, a strange, small jasper figurine that looked like a bird with too many wings—

"Sit down," she said, pointing to the bed with her elbow, half-throwing the gauntlets atop what covered the desk. "You always talk to me as if you want to give me the world; is it so wrong to be grateful when you do? To want to give in kind, if I had the faintest idea how?"

She knelt before him, working greaves and boots free.

[vrykolakas]

The bed creaked as he dropped onto it, and he breathed out something like an abashed laugh, shoving back curls from his face. His hair was alternately flattened and moulded by the helmet, blood-matted in places, more hectic than ever.

Hell if it didn't feel good just to sit down. It made him feel instantly a little more clear-headed. The armour's influence remained, though; he struggled to concentrate on her words when the tone of her voice was almost visible, when he could just about taste the colours of the room about them. Her scars looked particularly beautiful, each whorl and ridge of them standing out like a pulled seam across her skin. His fingers drifted to them, tracing the patterns. "No, no, not wrong, I only... I did tell you to shut me up, not to question me further," he said. He sounded weary and doting, his eyes creasing with his smile. "Leave my damnable illogic alone."

[fairyfoes]

She laughed, fangs flashing, and reached up from where she crouched on the balls of her feet to tap the pad of her thumb over his lips. "Shut up, then," she teased, eyes radiant with sudden happiness. Smiled hard enough that the scarred side of her face creased before she moved her hand, cupped the heel of his boot now the buckles were undone, freeing him of it after a practiced wriggle.

"'And leave your damnable illogic alone,'" she parroted, in a passable mimicry of his voice. The boot was set aside with a thud, and the second followed easier. She worked her way up his body, setting armor aside at an efficient pace.

[vrykolakas]

Her imitation of him was mockingly deep-voiced and sibilant; he gave a cracked laugh and shook his head, sending curls tumbling. As she moved up his body he hauled her gently closer, waited until she had unfastened the last plate from him to kiss her, very gently.

Without the armour he felt insulated from the world. It wasn't unwelcome. He leaned backwards, shoulders and head hitting the mattress, and pulled her atop him, holding tight.

fin~

[fairyfoes]

She tipped toward his kiss, his tenderness, and let him draw her where he willed with an eloquent and boneless lack of resistance. Moved only to straddle his hips, boots hanging off the edge of the bed, and pressed light kisses over his face, down his neck and the column of his throat. "Wolf, my wolf, I love that wild laugh of yours—" Saying happy nonsense, voice throaty, soft-voiced as secrets. She nipped here and there to remind him of his body, practically purring her pleasure.

Wound her arms greedily between his back and the bed, embracing him loosely, but no less feelingly. She nuzzled into him, careless of dried blood, nudged and moved and coaxed him further onto the bed while she peeled all the rest of his clothing off. She curled in with him until at last he slept, and then a little longer, touching the ends of his hair, breathing him in. She drew the covers up around him before she left.

And when he woke the next night, it wasn't alone— the varren having nosed the door open in the day to curl in between his feet at the foot of the bed— but Alyosha was gone, having slept as close in proximity to her children as she was allowed.