Llyr's Court

[Azure Halfbreed]

Felix looked at the mansion as they pulled up to it. He waited until Antha and Courtland left before he did. No real reason for it. He closed his door and approached the two, keeping distance between them. This was more of a personal issue. He felt more at ease being away from the crowd. And this crowd was growing.

Felix was forced to close that distance, even just a little. Walking close to Antha and Courtland, Felix looked at the other two and bowed his head in a silent greeting. Felix felt no obligation to be polite to them. but Antha asked it of him. But he really didn't know how to be polite as his cousin's. But then again, he really didn't care. He saw no need for it.  

[Rynn Calais]

"None taken," Rynn replied in respect to Courtland's remark, pleasantly enough but without any real warmth. "You're right in asking. In truth--" he sighed, raggedly. Might as well get the it out there now. "In truth, I would not ask you if I did not think this matter posed a serious threat to my family. If I did not think that it could be terminated without some assistance. I realize that you have no need, nor desire, to help us; there is no payment I could offer that could possibly make this worth your time." He paused, spread his hands. "If your family asks anything of mine, I cannot refuse it, on my word. But if I do not hold the lives of my siblings above all my possessions, then what point is there to remaining alive?"
The rhetoric was not meant to be dramatic; his voice was bleak, the absolute and final statement of an unerring fact. Antha might have gotten across some of that emotion, when her lips brushed his cheek--the overwhelming shame, that he could not protect his kin when they needed him the most. This was his purpose in life, and he could not fulfill it.
Rynn was not a weak witch. He and his family were the results of generations of carefully mapped alliances, alliances that spanned continents. But he remembered, even now, what going up against Mary within his sister's mind had been like.
It had been an exceedingly neat trap. Whatever he could wound would hurt his twin as well, and whatever he inflicted upon his twin, he too would feel. But he could feel what she had become.
That was one of the reasons he had been suspicious of the ritual at the Talamasca. It had not felt like Mary had been forced to leave. Fighting her was like trying to grab handfuls of mist, and he could not believe that she could be so easily summoned and then cast away without some part of it being of her own volition.
"But I am forgetting my manners," he said, abruptly, and gestured back to the porch. "Please, come inside."

 

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Antha spared a moment first to flash Felix a smile that said quite plainly she was pleased with him, and then to throw Courtland a very hostile look. "Mon dieu! Why do I put up with you, mon cher?" She shook her head, giving the anger a moment to recede, but where she expected the cheerful, wicked insanity that she was known for to take its place yet again, she was surprised instead by an unusual calm, a thoughtfulness that generally very few but Atticus could inspire. "If there were nothing more than that, mon ami," she told Rynn softly, giving him a very steady gaze, "It would still be enough. To be placed in charge of one's family and unable to protect them...it is a weight that never truly leaves. It haunts the mind more thoroughly than any ghost could ever dream." As she spoke, she reached for Courtland's hand, closing her fingers tightly over his. Her other hand gripped the Mayfair emerald strung around her neck, holding to it like a lifeline.
The calm in her demeanor had become something akin to torture, pain, that had her staring at the ground, lost in her own thoughts. But the moment passed, as they always did, and when she directed her gaze back to Rynn, that special Antha-brand insanity had crept back into them. "However, there is more. I told you earlier, did I not? This has become quite personal." She laughed once, an unsettling little giggle that promised dark thoughts were beginning to form in her mind. "There has never been a ghost able to elude me. There has never been anyone---alive or dead, in any manner---able to make such a boast. I will keep things that way even if I must sell my soul to do so."
His last comment made her laugh again, though this was a touch more normal, calmer, but it didn't reach the darkening emerald of her eyes. "If it is any consolation, your manners are infinitely better than some of my party." She glanced fleetingly at Courtland, teasing him, as was apparent by the flash of amusement on her face. "But by all means," she continued, making a small gesture towards the door, "Lead the way."

 

[.David Talbot.]

Courtland smirked. "Cause I'm good in bed," he answered crossing his arms.
But her little speech about protecting families wiped the smug look off of his face real quick. You did your best, he told her. When she gripped his hand he gripped hers harder. No one could have saved us. No one.
"I'm sorry I said that," he said to the twins. He hadn't understood Antha's motives. Now that he did he wouldn't question her. "It was rude of me." He glanced at Antha. I apologize Evie. I should know better than to question you.
Even Atticus knew that Courtland was truly sorry when he spoke softly and didn't cuss. It went against his nature. "May be meet your siblings?" Atticus asked. Part of his request was because he wanted to break the tension Courtland was making and part of it was because it needed to be done and he knew Antha would ask soon. They were all involved and to do anything about the ghost they needed to gather information. Even if it was just a visual of them.

 

[Vikteren]

There was little point in being stealthy when in a witch's territory, and so Vikteren did not attempt to do so.
Despite his distrust of its master, the grounds of Llyr's Court were hauntingly beautiful, the fire-scarred mansion strangely compelling by sheer force of contrast. He found Antha and her family standing in front of the mansion, Rynn and his sister in front of him--vaguely reminescent of a stand-off, and the part of him that remembered the 1920s mobsters half-expected a briefcase to scuttle into the cobblestones and a hostage to be pushed out of the cluster of Mayfairs in exchange.

Vikteren did not feel entirely welcome here; the open space disturbed him, although somewhat less than Rynn's closed mind, and Antha's mood grew volatile as a solar flare. It did not feel like a good combination.

The vampire took up behind Antha and her cousins, without the need to announce his presence; Rynn would recognize him from the Talamasca, and Antha likely could have felt him from a mile off if she hadn't known he was following.

 

[Rynn Calais]

He nodded, glancing towards the addition to the party as he did so, and turned. As Antha took hold of her emerald, so did he to Liesse's hand--like a lifeline. One did not have to be a witch to feel the strength of the bond between them, crackling like lightning in the air.
They ascended to the porch and pushed open the doors, leading the way inside to the vast, echoing hall of Llyr's Manor. In times before, it had been used as a ball-room; it was large enough to do so, although the style in which it was built was strictly European rather than Antebellum. Rynn was told that, when their family had made the transition to America, they had reconstructed the hall of their new home in an identical fashion to the one they had left behind. Above, a cut-crystal chandelier shimmered as it was suddenly lit, the thousands of candles above blazing into illumination. The floor was checkered marble tile, bisected by a lush velvet runner that cut all the way across and to the double mahogany staircases at the end of the hall, which rose to the second floor. Erin was still there, watching with a bored expression, but had now been joined by Cian. His bright eyes were clouded with opium; he was sitting on one of the lower steps, leaned back to rest his head against Erin's feet, and talking with languid gestures about--"And that is what De Whateley uses to lead to his conclusion. It's not a simple puzzle or a game, it's a death-trap. Spirits are ensnared within the construct and cannot, of course, find their way out. Really, I think our ancestors must have known about this when they built it, I can't imagine that they would have overlooked such a glaring--oh, Rynn. Hallo."
He re-focused on the company behind his brother.
"Oh, you've brought a charming young lady home, this time. Please don't tell me we're keeping her, that was a stupid idea even when we didn't have rampaging ghosts in the house." He grinned at Antha. "She's quite fetching, though, isn't she?" Cian looked up at Erin and nudged his shin with his elbow. "You agree, don't you?"
Erin was staring at the crowd with an intensely disagreeable expression.
Rynn coughed, and extended his arm to his two brothers. "Miss Mayfair, Cian. Cian--" "--Charmed." interrupted his brother, tipping his head graciously. "And the sullen one I'm using as a headrest is Erin. His feet are deceptively comfortable."  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Courtland's remark put a strange expression on her face, something between astonishment and humor. She even smiled, but it faded quickly back into the cruel lunacy that had become so common.
When Rynn started for the door, she followed quietly, observing the scenery. But soon his brothers had caught her attention, the sullen one first. He made her smile, the darkness in her eyes growing deeper, more complete, but then the other one spoke and suddenly she laughed, letting it flood her eyes so that the dark humor vanished and she was left looking less sweetly malevolent. It was a laugh usually reserved for her cousins, something that gave a glimmer of that fine insanity but was, for the most part, only delighted amusement.
"C'est un plaisir, monsieur Calais," she greeted him politely, giving him a more formal curtsy than she had Rynn. "Antha Evelyn Mayfair, at your service."

 

[.David Talbot.]

Courtland didn't feel like being polite.He didn't like the air in the house and it was making him uneasy. He was betting Antha and Atticus could feel it too. But he knew better than to cross Antha so he bowed in their direction. "Courtland Mayfair," he introduced himself shortly.
His eyes lingered on the one who was talking. Rynn had said his name was Cian. He could see him and his cousin getting along well. They were both raving lunatics from the looks of it. But then that was what they said about him too.
Atticus gave the brothers his most polite stare. "My name is Atticus," he said after Courtland. "I am with the Talamasca. I assisted Antha and your brother when we last tried to deal with this problem." He reached up and touched his right eye as he spoke. His fake eye that Antha had helped make for him. It looked real and he could see through it because they used the energy of spirits to keep it working.

 

[Rynn Calais]

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't stand in the presence of a lady," Cian said, letting his head fall back onto Erin's shoes again. "My legs aren't quite--" he stopped, slowly raised himself onto his elbows. "Rynn, would this be the Antha Evelyn Mayfair that you--"
Rynn finished the sentence for him, "Finagled into coming here to get rid of Mary? Yes. Try to show a little respect, even if you are..."
"Drugged." suggested Cian, with a certain smug satisfaction. "And Aedan is on his way. I told him to get out of my observatory. I was very rude."
He grinned down at the little group even as Erin kicked his head off his shoes with impatience and began down the stairs.

"You should get out of here, Mayfair." He didn't look up, his gaze focused steadily on his feet as he descended, but it was abundantly clear who he was addressing. "And you needn't worry, Rynn. I know my input isn't welcome." His smile, when he looked up, baring canines in an unveiled snarl, was directed at his youngest brother. "I'll make myself scarce while she's here."
Erin stalked across the checkerboard tiles to the right, as stiffly as an offended cat, and disappeared through one of the heavy oaken doors. He didn't slam it behind him; in fact, he was very careful about shutting it, which somehow was more disconcerting.

On the staircase, Erin appeared. He was the third brother, the closest in age to Rynn, although you would not have suspected it from looking at him. Both he and Erin shared similar facial structure--wider lips, aristocratic cheekbones--but his eyes were grey rather than hazel, and the soft brown hair at his temple was streaked with white. He pushed his thin, wire-framed glasses up on his nose. "Rynn, Cian, Liesse," Aedan nodded to each sibling in turn before he relegated his attention to the newcomers. A gentle smile curved his lips into a bow. "Ah. And the notorious Designee."
Then, as his eyes moved on to the rest--vampire, two cousins, and-- his eyes lit. For someone like Erin, who lived and breathed the knowledge of his heritage, this was akin to being in the presence of, if not a god, then certainly a member of the seraphim. A member of the Talamasca.
Rynn groaned inwardly.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Again the witch girl laughed, very thoroughly amused with the display. She took a moment to flash Cian a deceptively sweet smile, teasing around the edges, and then whirled around to face Courtland in a rustle of cloth as her coat and dress strained to keep up with her, flaring out and settling again around her slight frame. "So you do feel it?" she asked, her immense eyes widening to an impossible size with excitement as she leaned towards him, "The restless spirits? But ah, mon cheri, how can you not delight in it?" She laughed once, an echo of her unsettling witch's laughter, as she stepped back, lending the unfamiliar umbra enough energy to gather some of the matter in the air to themselves, becoming a wispy little web around her for the few short seconds that she allowed. "Don't you agree, Atticus dear?" she asked, turning to the vampire. It made her eyes clearer, her attitude less crazed. When they were alone, Atticus had the opposite effect upon her. She became the true lunatic witch who haunted the Talamasca motherhouse, bringing disaster like a perpetual storm. When there were others with them, however, Atticus tended to make Antha more sane. Neither could quite figure out why that was, but she used it to her advantage when she felt the need. This was certainly one of those times. "After all, as many spirits as there are lingering in the halls of the Talamasca motherhouse, you have been there for centuries. Do you not tire of them?"

 

[.David Talbot.]

Courtland glared at Erin as he left. It was a horrible insult for him to be rude to Antha and Courtland didn't deal well with insults. What the hell is your problem? He threw the thought at him. Maybe he sort of wanted a fight tonight. We came to help.
All of Antha's talk made him roll his eyes. He didn't like them as much. "The occult s**t doesn't excite me as much as you."
But it did Atticus. He grinned at her when the excitement hit. "It is fantastic," he agreed. His blue eyes were shimmering with those feelings. They did dim though when he felt a familiar presence strengthening. "Evie," he called to her. He wondered if she noticed. "Perhaps we should get to work soon. If we take too long David may chase me down to get my report." He gave her a smile. "You know how he is."
Then he turned his attention to the last of Rynn's brothers. He gave him a polite nod of his head and a curious look.

 

[Rynn Calais]

This family deserves what it's gotten, came the silent, venomous reply. His voice was like honeyed acid, and through the seething rage that veiled his mind there was a sense of movement, of stalking silent, darkened halls and charred, creaking floors... It doesn't matter what your intentions are, it matters what you make of them.

"Yes," said Rynn, abruptly, in response to Atticus. "Your friend is right--we've been dawdling, and I'm sure you have no wish to stay embroiled in this matter longer than--"
The doors slammed shut violently, a gust of wind extinguishing the candles and shaking the chandelier above. "--necessary."
Rynn, and his siblings, turned their faces up to the ceiling. Back in forth, in ponderous, slow arcs, the chandelier swung.
There was a girl sitting among the glittering crystals, a faintly see-through child in a white shift, her thin adolescent legs kicking as though she was sitting on a swing instead of a chandelier. Her face was, strangely enough, at peace.
She didn't look down; in fact, she seemed completely unaware of the people beneath here.
But the familiar, sweetly drawling voice wasn't.
Antha Evelyn Mayfair, we meet again. Get the ******** out of my house.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

A secretive little smile flickered across her face, the one that usually meant she was talking about sex. "Yes, I know how David can be. Better than you, I should think." That same smile turned a little more devious, more mocking around the edges. "Unless you and David have been doing things you aren't telling me." She said each word slower than the last, more carefully, the level of teasing rising with each breath.
It was the wind that first caught her attention, the slamming of the doors, but they couldn't hold her interest. The ghosts in her house, as well as Mayfair Manor, liked to pull similar pranks. It took little skill, or power, and so it did not worry or surprise her.
The creaking of the chandelier rose no more feeling in her. If anything, it annoyed her that she was being interrupted, but even that wasn't strong enough to show on her face. There was only boredom and a vague, slight curiosity as she looked up to the ceiling responding to the voice which had said her name. "But dear," she replied aloud, her voice a copy of what she remembered the adults in her family using to explain simple things to their children---clear and condescending, "You're dead, and nothing belongs to you when you're dead."

 

[Azure Halfbreed]

Felix had nestled himself against a wall and listened as the two families conversed. That was something, when acting like himself, he could not do very well. It was mandatory when playing a role assigned to the person for an assassination, that you played your role to a tee. Meaning if the role required one to converse, then Felix could do it. But as he was now, not a chance in hell.

The sudden wind caught his attention, and bewildered him for a moment. Made him wonder how could this wind flow through a resident building. But then he remembered he was dealing with magic and the supernatural. Phenomenons like this should be natural when dealing with that stuff. The sound of the doors closing shut drew his attention next. He didn't let that bring curiousity to the surface. He casually turned his head and looked at the closed doors for a moment before the ghostly figure on the chandlier spoke and drew Felix's casual gaze towards her.

He was staring at it intensly. Not out of shock. Nor curiousity of how it could be. But trying to study it. So this is a ghost, Felix said to himself. He could see right through through her, just like he heard about ghosts. In fact it looked somewhat familiar to his own body. Not the material one. His spirit body. He rose his hand to his face, fingers fully extended. Slowly, he closed his hand into a fist. And while the material hand closed into the fist, his spiritual body- hand, the fingers stayed extended. And just like the ghost on the chandelier, he could see through the spiritual fingers. Opening his hand again Felix let his fingers fall back into place with the ghostly hand that was still open.

Looking back up at the ghost, he started to wonder. Wondering if the ghost on up there and his own powers were close enough to being one in the same. If that was so, couldn't he take to his spiritual form and eliminate her? But that question alone brought up more questions. He was used to killing that which lived. That which breathed and bleed. This was something entirely different. To his knowledge, ghost didn't bleed. They aren't even living. So the rules of eliminating a ghost varied greatly from eliminating a living being. Felix questioned himself. How would one eradicate a ghost?  

[Rynn Calais]

The girl in the chandelier was not affected--she laughed, in fact, the joy clearly etched upon her delicate features, impervious to the situation beneath her--but the voice was clearly annoyed--the rage tightened it, made it sharp enough to cut.
In fact, it did. Across Antha's right cheek, a line of red was traced with agonizing slowness, widening with each word.
You think that the rest of my life did not belong to me?
The back of a hand pressed, softly, coldly, to the her left cheek.
In the chandelier-swing, the girl turned, her face lighting with happiness. Recognition. She reached out, was lifted out of her swing by three--no, four--pairs of hands. Long slender fingers that faded into nothing at the wrists.
For a moment, the lights flickered, and if one had cared to look, one might have seen Rynn fighting to regain the light, his hands knit in Liesse's. For a moment, the hall was aglory with light, and the figure above disappeared; the spirit fought it, clearly, but it was no avail; a few brief flashes of darkness, in which the girl climbed down some unseen surface, were all that was able to be glimpsed.

The candlelight steadied, as did the chandelier. A brief pause rang in the hall.
"I'm sorry you had to witness that, Miss Mayfair."
Cian, on the steps, was holding onto Erin's knees, although it was undetermined whether he was holding him back from pouncing on Atticus and dragging him off to the library in the dark, or simply trying to use him to get to his feet. Opium tended to impair coordination.