Mayfair Manor

[XCandy and LunacyX]

There was no telling how long the silence stretched on. It began at first with Antha staring in terror at the ground, seemingly very distant from her surroundings. Then, gradually, her gaze turned to Liesse and she continued to stare, still and silent, for several more minutes before the resolve slowly began to show in her eyes. "Nicolae." Quietly, the vampire emerged from the shadows near the stairs where he had been watching, going unnoticed by all but his sister's sharp eyes. "I need a body. A live, healthy one. Someone no one will miss, that the world will be better off without. Pretty, if you can. Get it to me before sunrise." Silently, Nicolae observed his sister for a moment or two and then, ever faithful, vanished without a word. Antha turned her attention back to Liesse then, and offered one last remark. "I don't trust Rynn, and I never will. I'm not sure if I can trust you either. So if I am going to do this, I'm going to do in a way that provides me with a fail safe. Just in case we have any situations like the vault creep up again." And then, with a fleeting smile as if it were only an awkward memory, Antha went into business mode. "Cian, Jack, keep her company, she won't be able to remain in this plane if magic isn't close by. Courtland, we're going to Marguerite's lab. Pierce, fetch Malakai and Vittorio and meet us there."
"Malakai?" Pierce stared evenly back at his cousin, dumbfounded. "Of all the people in this witching family, why sweet, innocent, barely even a witch Malakai?"
"Do you think," she purred, turning on her heel and heading towards the stairs with Courtland eagerly at her heel, "That a child of the main branch of the family, son of the Designee of the Legacy, and twin to a powerful witch such as Nicolae has no talents of his own? Just because they're not always useful and apparent doesn't mean he doesn't have them." She laughed briefly before vanishing down the stairs and Pierce, staring curiously after her and suddenly desperate to witness these apparent hidden talents of Saint Malakai, went running down after them.
"They never let me do any of the fun stuff," Jack grumbled sourly when they were gone, settling in for a very long morning, "Though I guess, to be fair, the last time they let me I killed a lot of people. But I was just a kid, and there was so much goddamn magic, and Courtland completely overreacted and almost killed me." He shrugged, as if in afterthought it wasn't important. "I wonder how long they'll be? And after they didn't leave us a thing to do. Though you have your sister, and this attic is full of old family relics you can use to study. It might be nice to get on Julien's good side for a little while before you guys start clashing all over the place about how you're not raising your children properly. Or you can leave the fighting to Courtland." In the split second of a pause that followed, the smallest smile came involuntarily to his lips at the mention of Courtland. "Nothing will ever be good enough for those kids, as far as Courtland is concerned. He's going to spoil them completely rotten. We all will, to varying degrees, but Courtland in particular. You'd never know it by looking at him, or even by knowing him, but he has a real soft spot for kids and these are Antha's kids, after all." He stopped abruptly, pausing a moment before plopping over onto his back and groaning his frustration. "Why couldn't they leave me Courtland? Nothing's boring when he's around. And he has all of my pills except these little white ones we use to stay up for days and days. It's just not fair, I tell you."

For the next ten hours, nothing much happened in the attic. Jack moaned constantly about his boredom and chatted now and then about nothing in particular. He offered up a few Mayfair history lessons when he felt like it, sprawled out on his back in the floor, but otherwise only waited impatiently, popping those little white pills to keep himself awake.
Vittorio made a brief appearance, taking a moment to inspect the circle and the ghost within it before he went to Cian, demanding blood which he collected through a syringe into a little packet from the hospital, and then was gone again. Nicolae too showed up, though just long enough to collect Vikteren before sunrise. He said nothing of what was going on downstairs.
A few times the power flickered mysteriously, just for a moment, and there was the brief collective shriek of shock that penetrated the walls to consider, and the complete restlessness of the spirits that only got worse as time passed, and Jack thought there seemed to be more of them slowly gathering.
It was three in the afternoon when Vittorio reappeared, going to Jack to unceremoniously restrain him in a pair of handcuffs. "What the hell?!" the boy cried, staring menacingly at his older, far more imposing cousin.
"No chances," Vittorio repeated quietly, just as the door on the far side of the attic thumped loudly and the spirits began to truly stir, chattering loudly, the walls groaning. It was then that he turned to Liesse, and in his kindest voice said, "Don't be afraid. It's going to help you through the gap."
It, the Mayfair ancestral spirit, for once did not seek out Antha, did not possess the Mayfair children as it was want to do. This time, with stern instructions from Antha, it filled the attic, surrounded the circle which bound Liesse, and with a great groan of the house, it took hold of her and she vanished.
The Mayfairs were not completely unaffected. They were rattled, shaken, not least of all Antha who clutched the gurney before her to steady herself. But it lasted only a few moments before Vittorio, collecting himself, took Cian by the arm and led him down the stairs to the secret door, into the grotesque laboratory of cobwebs and dust and disfigurements in jars. There was a circle there to match the one in the attic, though on a much smaller scale surrounding only the gurney in the center by which Antha and Malakai stood.
The body upon the gurney was the smallest one present, a girl of only fifteen with a slight build, a tangle of long ash blond hair, and fair skin. She was pretty, in a childish sort of way, and only Nicolae and Antha's words on the matter had convinced Malakai that the seemingly normal child truly deserved not to exist. Her arm, held out from her body, was hooked to an IV that fed Cian's blood, mixed with just a hint of Nicolae's to make sure it took no matter the compatibility, into her veins.
"Did it work?" Courtland, hidden in the corner, the slightest smear of blood on his sleeve, whispered in apprehension.
Malakai reached out quietly, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh of the girl's arm, and at his touch the skin paled and the veins beneath it went particularly dark. "It's hard to say," he murmured oh so quietly, just as the girl's light eyelashes fluttered and the strikingly pale blue eyes began to open.
"There's someone in there," Antha said simply, leaning over the girl and motioning impatiently to Vittorio so that he brought over a little metal tray neatly set up with various instruments as you might see in any operating room, a few drops of blood splattered beneath some of them though they'd all recently been wiped clean. From these Antha took a small light which she shined in the girl's eyes, gingerly lifting her eyelids to do so. As she began to truly stir---which was a slow process, for they had pumped her body with a great many sedatives to be sure she did not wake up and discover what was happening to her, it was too cruel---Antha spoke very softly to her, her voice endlessly calm, "Do you know who you are? Do you know where you are?"
Courtland neared then, gently inspecting the small wound on her chest just over the heart which had been neatly stitched up by Vittorio's expert, practiced hand, Antha's fail safe, the details of which they had agreed never left that room. It was safer that way. "If it is Liesse in there, are we going to adopt her too? Because I feel like Liesse would lead to Rynn, and there's no damn way I'm letting Rynn into this family, uncle to your children or not. He gets too many kicks out of hurting people, or just pissing them off."  

[Okimiyage]

Cian had a strange light in his eyes, as the other members of the circle left the attic. He sat down near the line of candles, crossing his long legs in front of him, and for a long time he just looked at his sister's spirit. Occasionally an expression would flash across one or the other's face, products of a silent but intense family conversation, but when Jack spoke, both turned their heads to regard him. The boy's rambling seemed to soothe Liesse; at least, she stopped tying her string in knots around herself. She needed a distraction from all the thoughts going through her head right then. What if Rynn didn't remember her, or called her mind corrupted, or simply refused to recognize the body that she was given?

Vikteren moved about the attic slowly, a shadowy, long-limbed spider wearing the body of a man. He never quite ventured into the light, but moved all about its perimeter. "I rather suspect Courtland of having higher priorities than your entertainment right now, Jack. They left you here to teach you patience." Occasionally the vampire brushed his hands against the dust-streaked lid of a trunk, or let his fingers drift over a dress that hung, glittering with beadwork and cobwebs, from an antique mannequin. "They'll be back soon." They had said 'before dawn'. But as the hours stretched on, and eventually Nicolae came to warn him of the impending sunrise, Liesse began to fret and fiddle with her thread once more, and Cian subsided into silence and solemn glances at the door.
At one point, Liesse wept again, and Cian spoke aloud: "Don't worry. She'll come through. She knows what she's doing." And the unspoken reassurance, She wouldn't ******** with you like this, not like this. They're not that cruel. You'll see. You'll like them, everyone, once you meet them. And they have lovely gardens, no mazes, but roses, roses everywhere. You'll like it. I promise.
It was in the middle of one of these moments that Liesse began to feel something tug at her. Not the thread above, which had grown slack with time, but something deep in the pit of her stomach, towards the back of her spine. And then Vittorio opened the door, and the shadows amidst the trunks and shrouded furniture began to deepen and shift.
Cian started to protest when she disappeared, a Hey-- that was swiftly cut off by Vittorio's hand on his shoulder. Then, he was led below.

She was so heavy.
She'd forgotten what that was like, the weight of one's body. All the organs, tissue, muscles and bones, weighing you down to the floor. Keeping you bound to this earth, giving gravity a hold on you.
The air smelled different, even before she opened her eyes. She inhaled--her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment she was surrounded by a multitude of shadowy ghosts before they resolved themselves into solid, human figures. She coughed, breathed in dust and the smell of ancient chemicals, and then her fingers went rigid, clawing at the metal. Fumbling with the command of her own body, she raised herself half-upright, turned, and vomited the remains of the body's last meal over the side of the gurney. It was mostly bile; whoever the girl had been, she had not eaten in some time. Cian, who had been at Liesse's side, had to step back quickly so as not to get spattered; immediately, he went to the rusty faucet across the room, and washed out a sample jar, and filled it with water. Her mouth tasted like stomach acid, her throat burned; when Cian returned, and offered her the first drink, she nearly dropped the glass in her first ungraceful attempt to hold it. She had to use both hands, not accustomed to commanding such small fingers, and Cian helped her sit up to drink.
The girl said, "Thank you." Her first words, in this body at least. Her voice was small and bell-like, although coarsened by the body's recent ordeals, and she had to put forth an effort not to shiver. Liesse put the empty glass down very carefully, and swung her feet off the gurney. Her hand-eye coordination seemed to be rapidly returning, but her efforts at standing were less successful; she crumpled like a ragdoll. Cian helped her up, and she clung to his waist for a moment before groping for the edge of the gurney with which to support herself. She moved like a drunk, on tip-toes. She didn't trust the rest of her feet to balance her. Cian looked at her, and then seemed to take it upon himself to act as a translator. "She wants to know where this body came from, whether it had someone that will miss it. And--"
"I can speak for myself, Cian." The little voice was surprisingly sharp, now. She seemed to be gradually adjusting to the control of the body, and now--now, she thought, now that I am among the living again, I must make up for what I allowed to happen in the vault. Antha had clearly not forgotten about it, and Liesse would not have allowed it if she had. I must never allow someone to speak for me again as Rynn did, I must never allow such events to pass without protest. I have to do right by these people, for the sake of second chances. She reached out for the purpose that she was meant to serve, now, searching for that long red thread which had become so familiar to her, and tugging--as hard as she could.
And when she turned those long-lashed, ice-blue child's eyes on the circle of Mayfairs again, there was steel in that look which had not been there before. She demanded one thing: "Rynn."
"He is closer than I thought, moving nearer still. I must find him, I must--" Then, her eyes glossed over, and she closed them briefly. Her shoulders relaxed, her spine curving. It was only the death-grip she had on the gurney which prevented her from sinking to the floor. "Outside," she murmured. "I have to get outside." Suddenly, all she could think about was the sky, the scent of clean air and sunlight.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Throughout most of Liesse's attempts to move, to adjust to her new body, Antha merely watched, her eyes sharp and gaze unrelenting, observing every little movement. It was when she began to demand outside that Antha stepped closer laying a gentle hand over Cian's and shaking her head. "Malakai," she said softly, and without a word he went up to the small body, casting an arm around those frail shoulders that made the spirits around them shiver and Liesse's skin flash momentarily pale, the veins beneath dark, as her spirit shifted within the body, rooting further into it, settling. He smiled reassuringly down at her, full of warmth and sunshine, always Saint Malakai. "Take her down into the garden. Carry her down the stairs, she's not coordinated enough yet, she might break her neck." He did as he was told, leading her from the grotesque laboratory and lifting her gingerly up in his arms to take her down the stairs, and for every moment that his flesh made contact with hers, her spirit was that much more anchored in the foreign body.
"You wanna' tell me what the hell that was?" Courtland whispered in a low hiss as the cousins followed them out, sealing the secret room behind them, "Since when can Malakai do...whatever the hell that was?"
Antha ignored her cousin, flitting down the stairs and sticking her head in the kitchen where Jacob was scrubbing the stove. "I'm sorry we missed breakfast," she apologized, oddly genuine in her remorse, "I think we'll take the leftovers in the garden, if you will. And tea, Early Grey. Oh, and something sweet, you can't imagine what a craving I have for sugar."
The Mayfairs regrouped out in the garden around oncle Louis's tea table, flanked on one side by the various fruit trees and on two others by the roses, the little clearing flooded with warm sunshine. Courtland and Jack had taken to chattering to and over one another as always, fueled a little more by their sleep deprivation so that none of their cousins quite understood what they were saying. Malakai had taken a seat next to the one he had led Liesse to, watching her with that quiet concern, and Antha sat across from her, watching passively. When Vittorio emerged from the house, the screen door banging behind him, he had Dolly Jean at his side, barefoot with a rose print white sundress swaying around her slight form, her silver hair sparkling in the streaming sunlight. As always she blushed to see Cian, which was an improvement from her earlier acts of shyness, but when she saw the strange girl she hid herself partially behind Vittorio, her face going deeper shades of red.
"Don't worry about Liesse," Antha offered, flashing her that swweet, reassuring smile that calmed her enough to take the seat Vittorio pulled out for her, "She's another illegitimate half-Mayfair, the kind Vittorio is always digging up. Seems she found her way into quite a bit of trouble recently, after running away from the orphanage, so we thought it was best to bring her here." And that is the truth, came her purr into Liesse's head as Jacob came rolling the tea cart out to the table, setting the re-warmed breakfast and freshly brewed tea out on the table for them, along with a little presentation of pastries and candies that Antha ravished instantly, Only I don't think it necessary to mention the blood on the girl's hands. Seems she had a particularly vicious streak. She would have been killed sooner rather than later anyways, and probably ended another life or two along the way. No, don't worry about her right now. Worry for yourself. You have what only a few, if any, people have ever been given before in this world---a true and thorough second chance at life.
Dolly Jean calmed with this, the color in her cheeks fading as she smiled sheepishly at the girl, silently offering her the little bowl of sugar cubes for her tea as Antha continued. "How are you feeling now, Liesse? Any better with fresh air and sunshine? And some proper sustenance, of course. Food and a good cup of tea can make a world of difference."
"You took all of them?!" The Mayfairs diverted their gaze quietly to Courtland, sitting alongside them but turned to Jack, mouth agape, as the latter cackled with dark amusement. "I knew I shouldn't have left you with them!"
"There's this one left," Jack purred in a dazed and wicked amusement, holding up a little bag with a single little white pill, "But I don't know, I might need it now..."
Courtland swiped at it a few times, his fingers grasping desperately for it, until suddenly Jack found himself crashing onto his back in the grass, clutching the bag to his chest as Courtland crushed him, trying to pry it from his fingers. Vittorio, with the smallest little exasperated sigh, held the table still as their wildly flailing legs kicked it, turning around in the grass and arguing as children argue---"It's mine!" "I'm keeping it!" "Give it back!" "Make me!"---going mostly unobserved by the other Mayfairs as they took their tea.
"Come eat, boys," Antha sighed at length, sipping delicately at her tea, "Your pills are terrible on an empty stomach." Courtland made one last swipe as she spoke, sitting on Jack's chest and holding one arm down, and then darted to the table in victory, grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he slipped the little bag into his pocket.
"Don't forget your appointment today, Antha," Vittorio murmured sternly as she took a little chocolate confectionery from the tray, "At the rate they're growing, we can't be too safe. And there are some last minute touches to be made to the hospital before the grand opening."
"At least let me sleep a little first," she pouted, shooting him the puppy dog eyes that would have made anyone but him yield utterly to her will. Courtland and Jack all but cried to see them, looking at Vittorio as if he were the worst kind of monster if he refused her.
"You can sleep during the examination, for all I care, and afterwards, but we need to be there before the workers leave."
Antha scowled at him, leaning back in her seat and popping a bright, sugary star shaped candy into her mouth, arms crossed, pouting. "These kids better be real freakin' cute, with all the trouble they're causing me," she muttered, pushing her tea away.
"How could they not be?" Courtland exclaimed, grinning wildly, "They have your genes, don't they? And---" He turned to Cian and pinched his cheeks in the most exaggerated manner. "Look at this face, how could they not be cute as little buttons? Shiny little antique buttons! With satin and pretty gems and silver and all that junk that's on the buttons of the clothes in the attic."
"Hey!" Antha protested, jumping up and punching Courtland squarely on the arm before she pulled her arms protectively around Cian, "These are my cheeks for the next two months, you stay away." And she kissed the little red mark left on his cheek for emphasis.
He leaned back in his seat, his lower lip jutting out childishly in the biggest pout. "You're no fair, Evie. You never did share. Not even when we were kids. Remember when we were ten?"
"You were too big for my dresses!" she protested, staring daggers at him, "You ripped them whenever you tried them on!"
"Oh, you're always holding that over my head!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air with indignation, and in the next moment he had run to Malakai, whose face went stricken with panic, grabbing him up in his arms and dragging him out of his seat, knocking it over in the process. "If you're not going to share, I'm claiming Malakai as my own!"
"Please leave me out of it," Malakai whimpered helplessly, scrambling to stay on his feet.
Antha, her eyes narrowing, simply said, "Jack!" Without another word he was out of his own seat, crashing wildly into Courtland so that they tumbled over each other in the grass again, Malakai slinking quietly back into his seat.
Pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger with annoyance, the angry color rising faintly to his cheeks, Vittorio had finally had enough. "I'm going to the hospital to set up," he hissed vehemently, rising abruptly from his chair, "Antha, I expect you to be there in half in hour. Otherwise I will come back and drag you kicking and screaming myself."
"You're so mean, Tori!" she whined after him as he headed for the door, Dolly Jean making a small motion to excuse herself and running after him.
When he was gone she dropped back into her seat, resting her elbow on the ironwork table and her cheek in her hand, looking suddenly very tired. "I think it's best not to divulge exactly who you are," she murmured idly to Liesse, pausing to take a sip of her tea, "It could have negative consequences. We'll tell Dolly Jean in time, when she's adjusted to the idea of another stranger in the house. Oh, don't get me wrong, she's a darling girl, wouldn't harm a fly, but she's absolutely terrified of people she doesn't know. She's only just warmed up to Cian, though she takes to other girls more easily. She has a rare genetic disorder, a consequence of all the interbreeding, it makes her a little weak-minded. Anyways, it shouldn't be an issue to claim you as another illegitimate Mayfair from an orphanage. God knows there are enough of them out there."
"No one will blink an eye," Malakai agreed, preoccupied with the roses behind him as he sat twisted in his seat, "We've seen too many half-Mayfair orphans brought here over the years. Courtland was one, though he's full-blooded Mayfair."
"All Mayfair, all the time," he cackled wildly in the background, as Malakai turned back in his seat, taking his few collected roses and sliding them carefully into the vase with the soft blues and purples of the azalea clusters, also from the garden.
"Big brother," Antha began anew, turning her gaze to Malakai as he glanced up from his flower arrangement, all big innocent doe eyes, his fingers still curled around the stems, "Since apparently I have a prior engagement, can I trust you to get Liesse settled in? She needs to rest, that body has been through a lot."
"Of course," he assented with an obliging little smile, turning back to the flower arrangement.
"It's no use trying to find Rynn until nightfall. And anyways, I have a feeling we might need to proceed with caution on that front. This isn't exactly an easy situation."
Her words halted abruptly as the screen door creaked open and slammed shut behind her, Michael strolling casually across the back lawn towards their table. "Time for your appointment, Evie. No use putting it off." He took a puff of his cigarette, his eyes turning and settling curiously on Liesse. "Who's this?"
"Mayfair stray," Courtland announced, he and Jack taking their seats like good little boys, finally settling down to eat a few bites, "Name's Liesse."
"From the orphanage," Antha elaborated, taking a demure sip of her tea as the boys began shoveling scrambled eggs into their mouths, "Seems she and Cian are well acquainted. She'll be staying with us, at least for a little while. Liesse, this is uncle Michael."
Michael smiled, his eyes crinkling faintly, and there was a family resemblance between him and Malakai in that smile, more nature than blood. "A pleasure, Liesse. It might do Cian well to have something familiar around here." He patted the boy's head affectionately, if a little teasingly, as he spoke and then turned back to Antha, all business. "Come on Evie, I'll drive you."
"But the candy---!" she whined as he dragged her up and across the lawn, on the brink of tears when Courtland dumped a handful of the candies into a linen and ran to hand it over to her. Only then was she mollified, turning and allowing herself to be led off to the car.
"Why don't I show you around?" Malakai offered a moment after they had vanished around the side of the house, turning to Liesse with that warm smile. "That's the gardening shed over there," he said, pointing to the little tin shack, "Dolly Jean's the only one who really uses it, no one else in the family is much into gardening. Here we have the kitchen, the pantry. Dad's---that is, Michael's---room through that door. This is the dining room here, Vittorio and Ezekiel's bedroom to the left through the parlor, Eleanor's bedroom beside that, my bedroom over there to the right past the dining room and up those stairs, over the garage. That's Jacob cleaning up in the parlor, he's been our housekeeper for years." Jacob paused to smile at them, giving Liesse a little nod of greeting, and then was back at his dusting. Malakai went along seamlessly as he climbed the stairs, giving the impression this was far from the first time he had conducted such a tour. "Up here is Julien's study, Courtland and Jack's room, Julien's room, the library, the main balcony, Antha and Cian's room, and this one here is Dolly Jean's room, which you'll have to share with her for the time being." He knocked and Dolly Jean swung the door open eagerly, smiling sheepishly as she silently invited them in.
The room was absolutely nothing but pastels, from the soft, muted lilac color of the walls to the baby blue of the ceiling, painted with soft, feathery clouds, the two plushly outfitted beds all in white to match the sheer curtains that fluttered over the open floor to ceiling french windows, the kind that doubled as doors onto the balcony overlooking the backyard. The furniture was all elegant french antiques, white trimmed in gold, and every surface was crowded with bouquets of flowers she had picked in the gardens in cut crystal vases.
"I hope you don't mind sharing, Dolly Jean," Malakai said softly, just as the girl, smiling with excitement, took both of Liesse's hands and pulled her into the room.
"I don't mind," she assured him profusely, "This room is so big, and I've only ever shared a room with Eleanor." Her voice dropped, her eyes taking on a concerned edge as she murmured, "Eleanor isn't nice. She liked to tease me, and she was always cutting the blooms off of my flowers." A depressed shadow crossed her face as she mentioned it, though it was instantly eliminated and forgotten as Malakai squeezed her shoulders and laid a fleeting kiss on her cheek. "I hope you like it," she continued, smoothing out the comforter on the bed on the opposite side of the room from the windows, "Antha got new mattresses a few months ago, they're wonderful. Courtland and Jack tried to make off with this one to their room at first, until they got their own."
Jacob knocked then, entering with a rolling rack of dresses that he took to the closet. "My apologies, but Antha asked me to bring some of your old dresses down for Miss Liesse. They should fit, you were about the same size as her. And if you need anything else Miss Liesse, new sheets or books or anything, please let me know." He smiled and began towards the door, though he got only a few steps before he stopped and felt suddenly in his pocket, pulling out an envelope and turning to hand it to Cian. "I almost forgot, Lawrence dropped these off for you. It's a key to the house, a card for the bank account Mademoiselle Antha had set up for you, a copy of her revised will---'Just in case,' she said---and his card with the number for his office at Mayfair and Mayfair Law Firm in case you need anything." He smiled and was gone, back to his cleaning.
"I'm going to go catch up on a little sleep," Malakai murmured as a thump sounded on the other side of the wall, Courtland's muffled voice and indistinguishable words from their room as they settled into bed.
"I'm going to wait for Antha and Vittorio in the garden," Dolly Jean announced, opening the top drawer of her dresser to retrieve a spool of pink ribbon and her flouncy, frilly white sun hat, dashing out of the room and skipping down the hall.
"You two should try to get some rest," Malakai reminded Cian and Liesse, backing through the door, "There's still a while before sunset. And if you need anything, you know where to find me."  

[Okimiyage]

Liesse was quiet, clinging to Malakai all the while that he carried her. She knotted miniature fists into his shirt and pressed her face into his collar, breathing in his scent, seeming unaware of how unseemly this behavior was in exhibition to a total stranger. Even if it had been hissed into her ear, it wouldn't have stopped her--she did not care that it was 'inappropriate'--here was another body, another presence besides herself in the long, long absence of such. She breathed in his scent, all too aware now that in all of her former life, she had never been conscious or even paid attention to the physical scent of another person, faint but unmistakable and distinct to every body. She was quite furious, suddenly, with the thought that she had never had the chance to hold another man as close to her as she now held this one--and in the body of a child, no less, in that of an unblooded girl--regretful that in her former life there had never flowered a romance.
calling back to cognizance notions that ancient dog-eared paperbacks had cultured in her long ago--
Her eyes leaked tears into Malakai's shirt-collar, although her breathing was steady and she cast aside thought of any emotion. When he set her down at last, she gave out a long sigh and pressed the backs of her hands to her eyes. Regretfully, she took a step back and pronounced him: "Kind. You are very kind."
He had set her very near the wrought-iron teatable in the garden, and she made her way towards the chair with a look of relief. Her balance was much improved. Cian, in the midst of pouring tea for himself and Antha from a stately silver set, passed aside a cup for his sister. It was white and blue china, fine enough to see the shadow of her finger through the porcelain, and Liesse admired it briefly before she took a sip. As Antha told the body's story, the girl listened and nodded as somberly as any wizened sage. "I had wondered if it was something like that," she murmured, plucking sugarcubes from Dolly Jean's upheld bowl. She took her tea maddeningly sweet. "The most recent memories of this body were rather--"

For the briefest of moments, still clenching a sugarcube between the fancy little tongs, Liesse stopped and looked directly at Dolly Jean. She stared hard at the girl, unblinking, for a little too long to be polite.
"Thank you," she said, quite gravely.
And then the boys rushed in like a pack of mad dogs and spoiled the moment. But Liesse's curiosity was piqued. Another little girl. Well, not 'little', now, not in comparison to her own body, at least.
When the whirlwind of bodies and laughter, faces and names--all quite overwhelming for Liesse, who had been a shut-in all of her former life and just spent the past few weeks (eternity!) in absolute solitude--at last subsided and departed, the little girl found herself fighting the urge not to grope for her brother's hand under the table. She found herself thinking an obscenity. And this wasn't the entire family, either. "I find myself feeling somewhat daunted by the idea of attempted to convince all of those--" Liesse waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the house. A butterfly attempted to land on her finger. "--men that I am supposed to be part of their family. "
Cian shrugged, answering: "They're a lot less tight-knit than we were, Liesse. At least, some branches of the family are. They're also a sight more extensive than we could ever hope to be. You'll do fine. Play up the shy."
Liesse scowled, abhorring the suggested pretense of shrinking violet. Did that last time, thanks. Making the sudden decision to stand--and putting her teacup down with a rather hard clink, overcompensating for her poor balance--she took a deep breath of the rose-perfumed air. It was heavy with humidity; she could smell the storm that was approaching. "It would be wise to put this confrontation off until you can gather your forces. Tonight, then." A hard storm, full of wind and rain. A witch's storm. It would whip the petals off every rose-blossom tonight, carpeting the lawn with their fragrant remains. Turning sharp blue eyes on Malakai, her next pronouncement was interrupted by the arrival of Michael. She liked him immediately; he had the sort of broad candor which is innately appealing on so many levels to children, guaranteeing no bullshit or unwarranted condescension. And his head-pats made Cian scowl and wrinkle his nose, and Liesse giggled to see him put-out. As for the young, good husband himself, he took his wife's hand and squeezed it fiercely. He only wasn't protesting more because hospitals scared the s**t out of him. He was usually very happy to leave all of the medical nonsense to trained professionals, but when it concerned his own offspring and loved ones, well, all the circumstance left one feeling a tad helpless. Their own mother, dimly remembered as a fey willow of a woman, had died in childbirth. Cian knew altogether too well the complications that the birth of witch twins could account for.
Worrying about it, however, was not helping anyone, either. So he let her go without protest, and stood when Liesse did, and followed her inside with her guide. She'd taken to Malakai, that much was obvious. She hung onto his sleeve when they stood, used him as a crutch when she climbed the porch stairs. The house seemed to suit her as well--Cian had suspected that much would happen. Liesse liked antiquated things. The Mayfair ancestral home, with all of its lushly ornamental wainscoting and tastes left over from the last century, made a good backdrop for anachronistic little girls. "You're going to have to tell me all of this again, I'm afraid, if you actually want me to remember it," she murmured, as Malakai led them about the halls with his rapid-fire narrative. She still wasn't capable of matching names like 'Courtland' or 'Jack' to the swarm of faces she had oh-so-briefly been introduced to downstairs. (And then in the midst of such an attempt, the door to Dolly Jean's room swung open and Liesse's mind went perfectly, blissfully away from all such topics--)
"I can tell she's going to fit right in," Cian whispered to Malakai, pulling him back into the hallway as he noticed Jacob maneuvering downstairs with a heaping rack of dresses. And indeed, Liesse's eyes lit up when she saw them. New dresses had been a rare, rare thing in Llyr's Court. The majority of her white muslin frocks had been handed down or reconstructed from fragments of older garments. She turned to her new roommate, clasping hands under her chin with excitement. "We shall be good friends," she said, firmly. A statement of facts, not a question of what would be. She'd dreamed of having a sister, in her old life, although much of that may have been the product of Mary's torments. Dolly Jean's attention had already gone to her sunhat, shading her hair with a pattern of lace, and then she was gone. Liesse lingered, listening to the sound of Malakai, and then Cian, descending the staircase. She chose a sage green frock, one of the plainest, to exchange for the simple shift-dress that the child's body had originally worn, and then headed outside to the gardening shed. Someone needed to cover those roses before the storm hit, and she would need a pair of thick gloves to protect her from the thorns.

Cian had gone to the study to fetch a letter-opener. He slit the envelope with a careless, practiced movement, then slouched into one of the study's thickly stuffed armchairs. The letter-opener was in the shape of a beautifully made dagger; he toyed with it idly as he read over the contents. He skipped over a large part of the will--mostly legal jargon, interesting only to the beneficiaries. It would come in handy for later reference. The cards went into his breast-pocket, the sheaf of paper laid idly aside. It was not unthinkingly that Cian had chosen the study. With a gloomy expression, he regarded the small mountain of study that awaited him on the desk, and pulled one of the yellow-paged archives towards himself.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Liesse's presence in the garden did not go unnoticed by Dolly Jean. She was used to people wandering in and out of the garden, taking a stroll or picking flowers, but the creak of the shed door was unusual when it was not her doing. Besides Dolly Jean, no one used the gardening shed (except for Antha's occasional exploits, for as she had said, it took creativity to have any privacy in that house). It had never occurred to Dolly Jean to cover the roses. Really it had never been necessary, they had always been astonishingly resilient.
Her mind blanked, blocked the images that tried to surface, the knowledge of what was buried beneath the ground, what those wispy roots fed from. She was too kind a girl to bear to remember any of it.
Quietly, watching in fascination, she went to assist Liesse in covering the towering thickets of leaves and flowers, holding desperately to her hat whenever the wind came swirling around her. She only stopped when she heard tires rolling into the driveway, the rapid open and close of a car door, followed by a second door being calmly opened and closed. "Antha's home," she whispered in childish excitement, taking hold of Liesse's hand and running inside just in time to see the bathroom door slam shut, the momentary flurry inside giving way to wet sounds, gasping, Antha slumping quietly to the floor. Michael followed her a few moments later, entering with a glass of water, and Dolly Jean peaked in to see her cousin all but collapsed into the corner, her arms pulled around her stomach before she lurched forward again, the last few traces of bile spilling from her lips before she clutched desperately at the glass of water Michael offered her, rinsing the foul taste from her mouth. "How," she began, still short of breath, "Do women do this over and over again?"
"I never understood how any of you do it at all," Michael murmured, taking the glass from her trembling fingers and refilling it from the sink, "Your mother was so miserable with the boys, dashing out of bed three, four times a night for a month. And she was always in pain, it's enough to be carrying two children at once but they were such fat little babies."
"Dad!" Malakai exclaimed, coming upon the group dressed only in his pajama pants, stumbling dazedly in a half-conscious state. No one slept quite as deeply as Malakai, and no one had a harder time waking up. Michael only smiled at his son, teasingly and full of complete and unconditional love.
The Mayfairs glanced up at the creaking of the floor, Armand and Cyrus walking up with peculiar expressions as they observed them. "I know that we are a rather peculiar and eccentric bunch," Armand purred as he walked up to the group, glancing between them, a cigarette hanging from his lip, "But does a party around the bathroom really seem like a proper thing to be doing?"
Cyrus, one of those few Mayfairs known to be the paragon of a good father, poked his head briefly inside to look at Antha, voicing his educated guess of, "Morning sickness?"
"It's a lie," Antha hissed viciously, her forehead resting against her folded arms, "It never strikes in the morning, it hits all the damned time."
"But think of what comes from it," he reminded her, smiling softly, and as if on cue little Victoria came running up to her daddy, clutching his hand, followed shortly by Belle who, rather than pay attention to the other adults, let out a great squeal and launched herself at Malakai, nearly knocking him over.
"Malakai, Malakai, Malakai!" she called in delight, his arms barely catching her as she fastened herself to his chest, her little legs around his waist. "Uncle Malakai, when we get married, can I wear aunt Antha's pretty dress?"
Malakai, slowly pulling out of his dazed state, gave a slow and affectionate smile, tucking a little golden ringlet behind her ear, "You can wear whatever you want, I'm going to be old and wrinkled and stooped over anyways."
Belle pouted, clapping her tiny hands on either of his cheeks and studing his face intently, "You'll always be beautiful like this, uncle Malakai," she proclaimed with a dire certainty, a moment before she was set back on her feet and Antha appeared in the doorway, a little paler than usual but otherwise returned to her usual self.
"Oh," she muttered, reaching for Michael and fumbling in his jacket pocket, retrieving a little slip of paper that she presented to Malakai.
"Well look at that," Armand murmured, going to look over his shoulder at the sonogram, the two tiny, half formed bodies curled around one another, "Belle, Victoria, take a good look. See that?" He took the picture, pointing to the little body marked 'female'. "This one is going to be bossing you around for the rest of your life. Enjoy your last days of freedom."
Antha glared at him, the devilish smile that curled his lips as a heavy vase on the table nearby fell squarely on his foot. "Give me that," she demanded, snatching the sonogram from him and turning on her heel, "It's about time Cian got a look at his children."
As Antha vanished up the steps, Belle and Victoria made off with Dolly Jean to the parlor where their dollhouse was set up and Cyrus and Armand were left gazing curiously at Liesse. "Another stray?" Armand guessed as Cyrus gave her that calm, easy smile.
"And a friend of Cian's, it would seem," Michael responded, stepping out of the bathroom and lighting a cigarette.
In Liesse's head, in response to an earlier voiced concern, there came the whisper from Malakai, Cian is family. His blood has joined our blood. You were born of the same blood as Cian, the blood he passed to his and Antha's children. Your new body is of our blood. You are family, twice over.
"I thought his friends were all along the lines of Courtland and Jack," he murmured, rolling his eyes.
"And what's wrong with that?" Courtland purred, popping up at his shoulder from thin air, barely dressed with his arm draped around Armand's shoulders. Jack, also scantily clad, was taking the last step down from the second floor, his hair mussed from sleep.
"You're perverted little drug addicts," Armand replied affectionately, which made Courtland laugh riotously, falling in the floor clutching his stomach. "We can't all be little Lord Byron's like you," he shot back, taking the hand up Jack offered him and clinging to him in that inappropriate, suggestive way they had between them, "Where's Antha?"
"With Cian," Michael replied, and then quickly as Courtland turned towards the stairs, "Now you leave them alone, they're newlyweds and they just acquired the first picture of their children, they don't need you bursting in on them."
Courtland pouted terribly, leaning his head on Jack's shoulder. "This is the trouble with growing up," he muttered in a fit, "Soon I'm not going to have any playmates. Cian's going to be busy with his kids, Pierce is going to be in Egypt or Italy or Japan or something, Vittorio's going to be busy with the hospital, Dorian's probably going to get stabbed by a lady of the evening in a dark alley somewhere, and Malakai's going to be married."
Malakai only looked at him as if he were insane, his head tilted curiously to the side, "And who on earth am I going to marry?"
"You'll find a cousin somewhere and fall in love and get married, that's how it always is with guys like you. You just watch. And you'll move to some little cottage somewhere and you'll live the most normal life of any Mayfair ever."
Malakai shook his head profusely. "I would never leave this house, or dad, or my niece and nephew when they're born. Antha gave me joint custody with Cian when she's gone, I'm going to stay and help him raise them."
"An equally sweet maneuver. Not that I expected any less of Saint Malakai, forsaking your own happiness for everyone else, for the sake of the family. You know if it wasn't for Sera, I bet you'd still be a virgin."
Malakai's face went instantly blood red, his eyes panicked. "Courtland!" Michael turned and abruptly left the hallway.
"You could stand to be more like Nicolae, you know. You two are twins, shouldn't you be a little similar?" And Courtland, in his general shamelessness, took a moment to look between Liesse and Malakai. She had been sixteen originally, he recalled, and her body now was fifteen, not quite a child anymore. He and Antha were already lovers before they were fifteen, and they had had others before one another. And witches were never still children mentally at fifteen---excluding, of course, poor sweet Dolly Jean, but she wasn't normal anyways. Courtland had seen the color rise in Malakai's cheeks when Liesse had clung so desperately to him, no matter how he'd tried to lower his face and hide it. But, in an unprecedented event, Courtland hadn't and still didn't say anything about it. "Even saints need lovers, Malakai, no matter how you people deny it. And you're no good at being a bachelor either, you don't do any of the fun stuff, you just give into Sera at parties when she gets you drunk."
"We could kidnap him one night," Jack suggested, grinning wickedly, "Get him drunk and toss him in a dark room with a pretty girl."
As Malakai stared at them, mouth agape, petrified with terror because this was no joke, they would truly do such things and laugh about it afterwards, Armand stepped in on his behalf. "Antha would ******** kill you," he pointed out, which seemed to sober the boys immediately, "Since Malakai's too innocent to even think about it."
"What about Sera?" Pierce questioned, stepping into the hallway in a new designer outfit, this time a long cream colored sweater and leather pants melded to his body, not a hair out of place, "You two had a thing, didn't you?"
"We did not!" Malakai protested, but was betrayed by his flaming red cheeks, the panic in his eyes.
"She only shows up at the house for events," Courtland murmured in Pierce's ear, loud enough that all present could hear his purring voice, "She finds a new way to get him drunk every time and tricks him into some dark room and has her way with him."
"Not that he puts up much of a fight," Armand added, leaning against the wall as his eyes narrowed teasingly at Malakai, "She is quite a fetching girl, and as much as Malakai loves to be a good little boy, men his age have needs."
"I swear to God, all of you---"
Cyrus, leaning to whisper in Liesse's ear as the boys bickered, explained, "Sera's from the main branch of the family. She's a little...egotistical. All of the girls in the family are pretty uppity and shallow, or else just bitches. It only leaves Antha, who Malakai would never look at as anything but his darling little sister, and Dolly Jean who...well, is a very special circumstance, and not fair game. And anyways, she's sort of taken." He smiled, winking one twinkling eye and holding a finger to his lips. "But that's a secret, they don't know that we know." He chuckled then, quietly, gazing at Malakai with pity. "He might have to marry darling Belle in another decade or so. Oh, Belle is the little one with the golden curls that adores him and insists they're getting married."
"Why don't we have a little party tonight?" Pierce suggested suddenly, his cunning eyes glancing over at Courtland and Jack, their own eyes shining wickedly, "We'll invite Sera. Who knows how long I'll be sticking around, and I missed her at the wedding party."
"But we all know why that is," Jack murmured, laughing when Malakai glared at him.
"It was my sister's wedding, I did not---"
"Stefan's funeral, then?"
"God, no! To think of it! It would have been the most disrespectful thing---"
"Then it's been a while for you, I suppose. Come on then," Pierce said, rousing himself from his languor to take Malakai by the arm, Courtland taking the other, dragging him off, "Let's go find you a girl."
"I don't want a girl!"
"A boy, then. Whichever, just make up your mind."
"I...what?! I don't want a boy, either! I---" Frustrated and at a loss, his heels failing to dig into the floor and anchor him, Malakai finally resorted to the only thing he knew with certainty would work. "Antha!"
His cousins froze, and before they could even begin to run for cover the door to the parlor swung open, crashing squarely into Courtland and knocking him onto his back in the floor, and at the same time the table beside Pierce came crashing down on him, though he slipped away before it could knock him down. Malakai, free of his captors, ran back to Cyrus and Liesse, standing on the opposite side of them from Armand, who he didn't completely trust.
Pierce, never missing a beat, slipped quietly over to Liesse as if he hadn't just been attacked by a table, leaning over her with one arm outstretched to the wall, his most charming smile on his lips. "And what about you, hmm? You were cloistered in that old house all alone for a long time, weren't you? But that body you have now is no maiden vessel, and once you turn that switch on it never goes off again."
"No," Malakai jumped in immediately, his voice quite unusually severe, "Get away, Pierce. Now."
Shut down and cut off, Pierce moved grudgingly away from the girl, giving a sigh of frustration as he moved down the hallway, muttering, "I would come back when Antha's married and off limits, like the other girls in this house. And you wonder why Dorian's never here..."
His voice faded down the hallway and Courtland and Jack, staring after him, burst wildly into laughter, holding each other up. "Oh, nice show. That's what he gets for thinking he can show up here after all this time and jump into bed with all the girls again." Courtland shook his head, sobering just enough to stand straight. "But seriously Malakai, this is ridiculous. Sera's a pretty girl and all, but it's time to get you a girl that, well...isn't that condescending whore Sera." And he smiled as nods of agreement were made all around, Malakai helplessly hanging his head when even Cyrus agreed.

Upstairs, as the teasing and bickering went on below, Antha knocked once on the door of the study before entering, locking it behind her and going to close the book before Cian, hopping up to sit on the desk and pressing the sonogram picture into his hand. "At the rate they're growing, Vittorio is estimating two months," she said, a smile flickering across her lips, "Just short of my birthday. It should be enough time. Just barely, but enough." Again that smile as her fingers brushed his cheek, her eyes studying him before she leaned forward to press her lips to his. "Come to bed, darling. It's no use studying on a lack of sleep like this." And she took his hands to drag him back to their bedroom, where in fact she didn't let him sleep for another hour, but that was beside the point.
When Jacob called for dinner at eight that night, the Mayfair children all stirred from their beds, dressing groggily and filing into the dining room. Liesse had been designated a seat next to Cian's, across from Malakai, and as the last few dishes were set out the family all settled into place, Antha at one end of the table and Julien on the other. Antha had Julien's morning newspaper in her hand as she idly filled her plate, her eyes scanning the pages as she ate. Courtland and Jack were making a racket as usual, downing their secretly spiked iced tea that wasn't fooling anybody, Malakai and Armand were discussing books, Victoria and Belle were pushing their vegetables around their plates, and everyone else was questioning Liesse about herself. It was only when Antha handed the paper over to Cian, flipped open to the society section which bore their pictures in black and white, that everyone else fell silent, preparing.
"How was your appointment?" Julien questioned, glancing briefly at his niece.
"Fine," Antha purred, spearing a broccoli flower on her fork and inspecting it as if she wasn't sure whether she wanted to eat it or not, "No scales or horns or anything."
"Good to know you aren't bearing the spawn of Satan after all," Julien muttered, anger flaring, "And the construction on the hospital?"
"Coming along. They were going to start putting up the murals, but I thought it better to just paste money all over the walls. After all, as you said it's just---what was that expression you used? 'A useless, money-sucking pit?' "
"You've paid more to build this hospital than any other in the world, Antha," he reminded her sharply as the other Mayfairs pretended not to exist, making as little noise with their silverware as possible.
"Yes, oncle Julien, you're right, who needs medical research these days anyways? And why give grievously ill people the treatment they need when that money could sit in one of our giant vaults, collecting dust?"
"You are nineteen years old, you could show some responsibility with the fortune our family took generations to build."
"Money that was willed down to me, Julien. Down through Mayfair women, all the way up from Suzanne who never had a penny and who could have lived to old age if she had been able to afford any sort of medical care. Suzanne who could have made more if there had been hospitals in this city that employed midwives like her and paid them decently for their work. Yes, how irresponsible of me."
"I'll have to agree with Antha on this, Julien," Michael joined in, and the other Mayfairs all breathed a sigh of relief. Michael and Julien ever only fought behind closed doors, which meant that Michael's entrance into the conversation would put an end to it while they were present. "The facility will be a scientific marvel, and it will improve the lives of the people in this city. Besides, with all of the state of the art equipment Antha has outfitted it with, it will help ensure our next Designee of the Legacy's safe delivery into the world."
"Well said," Antha commended him exuberantly, flashing a smile, and as the chatter began up again around the table Jacob came in quietly to begin clearing away empty plates.
It was shortly after that the storm began. It had been building for a while, the wind whistling and the air growing heavy with humidity, but when it broke, it was an explosion of wind and rain that shook the creaky old house and rattled the windowpanes. "Damn it," Antha swore under her breath as the younger Mayfairs rose hastily from their seats, "The storm shutters!"
A clamor ensued as Jacob and all of the Mayfairs present excluding Julien, Michael, Belle, Dolly Jean, and Victoria went running outside from various doors, Courtland through a window itself, shutting the sturdy wooden shutters over the floor to ceiling windows and latching them closed. Michael, the two young girls following at his heels, went to the linen closet, filling their arms with towels that he handed out to the cousins as they came running back in, dripping wet from the heavy downpour.
"Ah, don't these storms make you feel alive?!" Courtland exclaimed in exhilaration, grabbing Jack's hands and twirling the both of them around the atrium while Jacob ran after them, mopping up the water they tracked in. Pierce stood still, aggravated with his expensive wet clothes and ruined hair.
"Better get the oil lamps," Malakai sighed, heading up the stairs for the attic where they were all stored.
Within an hour they had all been dispersed amongst the house and the Mayfairs had settled in with their hobbies and games, Cian being sent upstairs to study like a good boy. It was only then that Antha checked the grandfather clock in the hallway, noting that it was just before eleven, and surreptitiously stole away with Liesse in tow.
"I don't know if he's going to come," she murmured when they had quietly exited into the garage, climbing into her car, "But I did set an appointment this evening, and it would be rude to miss my own meeting. Shall we?"
The storm drowned out the sound of the engine as Antha cranked the car, the storm shutters shielding the headlights as she pulled out of the driveway and headed for Satis House, the storm reducing her to the driving habits of any normal person.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Antha had been right to worry. As soon as the car pulled up into the driveway, she knew something was going on within the house, and she suspected it had something to do with the unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. When the engine was cut, even in the garage she could hear the ruckus from inside, the yelling and heavy, rapid footsteps, doors slamming and things shuffling, falling. Antha wasted no time in running into the house, standing in the doorway to the parlor to announce her presence with, "What in the hell is going on?"
Pierce, on his knees on the carpet straddling Malakai, one hand trying to pry his mouth open and the other clenched expectantly around a bottle of gin, only blinked at her. "Just a little party," he responded innocently, as Jack and Courtland, dancing nearby, drunk and half dressed, ran into the couch and stumbled not to fall, laughing. Sera---the Mayfair girl of twenty-four, with long, pale blond hair and sharp blue eyes, tall and well-figured---was leaning against the bar, a drink in her hand, and Armand was leaning against it next to her, watching the events unfold, a drink in his hand and the bottle of scotch in the other. Cyrus was across the room, negotiating with little Belle and Victoria on whether or not it was time to go home, or at the very least to bed.
"You left me!" Malakai whined, his legs kicking uselessly and fingers trying to pry Pierce off of him, "Antha, will you please---"
Pierce fell off of him without another word as if someone had pushed him, tumbling unceremoniously into the floor, but he only laughed as Malakai tried to scrambled away, failing as Sera's hand came out to clasp his wrist, dragging him close to her, and he only begrudgingly allowed it, his whole body tensing.
But there was still yelling, further back in the house, a door slamming closed and then open again, heavy, angry footsteps. "What's going on?" Antha questioned again, softer now, gazing off towards the sounds.
"Oh, that?" Pierce was smoothing out his sweater, retrieving his cigarettes and putting one to his lips to light, "Julien found Dolly Jean in the gardening shed."
"In this storm?" Antha glanced between the general direction of the argument, which took place between two male voices, and Pierce, continuing as if the earlier statement did not matter, "But why is he---"
"She wasn't alone," Courtland purred in response, cackling as Jack spun him around.
"It's about time they were found out, when you think about it," Armand mused, following Antha's gaze, "We already knew, even if we never said anything."
"I wish someone had told me," Pierce interrupted, scowling, "Of all the things to not tell me, this is just too good. Of all people, those two?"
"Oh, shut up," Antha sighed, heading down the hallway, but stopped when Julien came stomping out of the dining room, screaming.
"Of all the irresponsible, foolish things you have done in your lifetime---!"
"We've been plenty responsible!" After him, with far heavier footsteps, Vittorio came rapidly after Julien, his face set in angry lines, and Dolly Jean came scrambling after them, terrified and in tears, trying to plead their case in whispers. "Just because you don't agree---"
"And what if you were to get her pregnant?" Julien demanded fiercely, "What then? She cannot procreate, you know this!"
"And we haven't allowed that to happen!" Vittorio protested, "We have taken no chances with that, it will not happen!"
"Julien, they can't help it if---" Michael began, trudging after them looking wearier and more stressed out than ever.
"It will not be allowed!" Julien screamed, making a great, violent gesture with his arm, and as Vittorio's anger flared in response, Dolly Jean dissolved into pitiful sobs.
"Julien!" Antha called down the hall, her voice heavy and sharp with anger as she stalked towards them, going rapidly to put her arms around Dolly Jean who crumpled desperately into her embrace. Michael, who did like tension, did not like fighting, breathed a sigh of relief to see her.
"I will not allow this," Julien proclaimed quickly, his eyes narrowing at Antha, "Not so they can---"
"That is not your decision to make," Antha hissed, her arms held fast around the sobbing Dolly Jean, "They are hardly the first to make poor decisions for love." Her eyes sharpened with accusation at Julien with that, and the color rose angrily to his cheeks for it. Michael, despite his best efforts, glanced away, his eyes flashing dark.
Her cousins, who had gathered quietly in the doorway to watch, one piled atop the other, had been silent. It was only in the momentary silence that followed that Courtland, noticing the newcomer for the first time, called down the hallway with terrible timing, "Antha did you know Rynn Calais is in our house? Because he's in our house, just standing here."
All eyes, excluding Antha and Dolly Jean's turned to the boy then, with mixed reactions, watching him as if he might lash out now that he had been discovered. "He'll be staying here for a while," Antha answered easily, dismissing the subject with her tone.
Courtland, studying the boy for another tense moment, finally shrugged, as if he wasn't quite happy with it but it just didn't matter, seizing Jack's hands. " 'Kay!" He called, as he and Jack resumed their wild spinning about the room, shrieking with laughter.
"Do any of you have a responsible bone in your bodies?!" Julien demanded, gesturing angrily towards Rynn, "Antha Evelyn Mayfair, how could you---"
"My reasons hardly matter," Antha hissed, staring daggers, "But by all means, oncle Julien, go on. I'll give Rynn your room when you've bitched your way into exile."
Julien, sensing she was serious, dropped the subject, rounding again on Vittorio. "This will stop immediately. If it doesn't I will disinherit you, throw you out, whatever must be---"
"That's not your call to make, either," Antha hissed dangerously, and then, rousing Dolly Jean to look at her with her desperate, red-rimmed eyes, "Do you love Vittorio?"
The girl fell into fresh pitiful sobs, nodding her head wildly in agreement. "We want to get married," Vittorio announced, taking the opportunity the change had afforded him, speaking very quickly before Julien could interrupt him, "We know she can't have children, we'll adopt, or we'll use a donor. It doesn't matter."
"Please?" Dolly Jean begged, clutching at Antha, because like any child in the Mayfair family, she knew Julien held no power next to the Designee of the Legacy.
"If aunt Suzette approves---"
"She does," Vittorio assured her.
"You've already asked her?!" Julien demanded in fresh outrage, but went ignored.
"Then I see no earthly reason why you shouldn't." Antha stroked Dolly Jean's silver hair, laying a little kiss on Dolly Jean's forehead before the girl, beaming, threw herself at Vittorio, who in turn put an arm around her, carefully maneuvering her away from Julien, watching him carefully.
"Good, that's settled," Michael murmured, strategically placing a hand on Julien's back and moving him with him down the hallway, "Why don't we go out for a drink, then? It's been a hectic night."
"You're telling me," Antha murmured with a scoff, standing with her arms crossed, watching them disappear down the hallway.
"Now wait just a minute---" Julien yelled, grasping at straws.
"Would you please keep your voice down?!" Antha yelled after him in mock scorn, "Cian is trying to study!"
In the parlor, Armand couldn't help his snort of laughter. "Cian's studying," he repeated in amusement, shaking his head with the smile still on his lips, the alcohol shining in his eyes, and held up his glass in toast, "Good stuff, Antha."
As the adults left, Julien very much against his will, and Vittorio and Dolly Jean tactfully vanished from sight, Antha gave a great sigh, a hand to her temple, and the party resumed within the parlor.
"As I was saying earlier," Pierce purred, leaning against the wall nearest the Calais children, "That body is going to take some getting used to, with that switch being flipped and everything. I'd be more than happy to be of service if---"
"Pierce, no!" Antha and Malakai rounded on him simultaneously, their eyes sharp with unspoken threats. "I'm going to start carrying around a spray bottle of ice water for you, if you don't control yourself," Antha swore, and Pierce backed slowly away, though he still grinned. Malakai would have made a similar threat, but was rather preoccupied by the girl that tugged at his arm, trying to drag him off towards his room as he held fast to the couch, trying as politely as he could to protest, though she didn't seem to hear him.
"Oh, for the love of God," Antha muttered in exasperation, and then turning towards the stairs, leaning against the banister, called, "Cian, darling, I could use a little help down here."
"Yes," Courtland agreed, his voice purring with things Antha didn't even want to think about, coming to stand in the doorway with his arms draped around Jack, "Call Cian down, that's all we're missing from this party."
"No," Antha shut him down rapidly, shaking her head, "I will carry a separate spray bottle for you, now you keep your filthy mitts off of my husband."
"You're no fair, Evie!" he whined immediately, as if he'd been expecting it, "You never share!" In his pouting, Courtland's eyes found Rynn and he paused, his eyes glimmering thoughtfully. "What about Rynn, can we have him?"
"I keep telling you, I...wait, why do you want Rynn?" Antha responded, staring at him in genuine confusion.
Courtland shrugged. "He's pretty."
"But you don't like Rynn."
The boy rolled his eyes. "That doesn't make him any less pretty. He might be some fun."
"Take that up with him," Antha said finally, shaking her head hopelessly at him.
Courtland pouted anew. "What is it with you guys lately? You won't let us play with any of the Calais's. You're keeping Cian all to yourself, Malakai threatened us with death if we touched Liesse---"
"He did?" Antha interrupted, quirking an eyebrow as if that were truly something unusual.
"I did not!" Malakai protested from the parlor, still struggling against Sera.
"And now we can't play with Rynn. I may as well just go join the church and be a priest, and do boring priest things."
"I don't know, the things I used to do with priests weren't that boring," Antha murmured, surreptitiously watching the fight in the parlor, waiting to jump in.
"Pretty girls don't come along every day trying to seduce priests just for kicks, Antha," Courtland scoffed, then as an afterthought, "Or do they? I only go to church for weddings and funerals." He paused. "I've been in church a lot lately. I suddenly feel the need to sin. Rynn---!"
"No," Antha stopped him, despite his whining.
"You're no fair at all, Evie!" His arms dropped suddenly from Jack and in the next moment he was beside Liesse, resting his chin against her shoulder. "Liesse, tell her she's being no fair."
"Don't drag her into this!" Antha groaned, walking up to smack him squarely on the shoulder.
"She's the nice one!" he protested, whining, before he went running back into the parlor, tripping over the carpet and falling on the way, and Jack went with him.
"Antha, darling," Armand interrupted, stepping languidly into the hall and motioning at the room behind him, "I think your brother is about to get raped."
"What did I tell you, Sera!" the girl shouted, running into the parlor.
Malakai came running out a moment later, panicked, and for lack of anyone that wouldn't willingly handed him over to Sera and laugh about it, took refuge behind Liesse.
"Liesse, darling," Courtland purred, slinking back up to her, "We're going to need you to step away from sweet little Malakai now. Nothing against you of course, but you're impeding our work, in more ways than one."
"Stop saying weird things!" Malakai yelled at him, still firmly on the other side of Liesse. And then, turning to the Calais twins, "I'm sorry for the chaos. I wish I could say it wasn't always like this."
"Don't wish to say that!" Courtland scolded him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "It's fun! Just because you don't want to spend the night with a pretty girl---"
"Why don't you just take her up to your room, if you're so concerned about it," Malakai responded flatly, and for him that passed for mean.
"That's not the point of bringing her here at all, and you know it. That point is that you need a girl. I've got all the girls I can handle. Boys too, for that matter. You really should try them, you know, how can you ever know what you like if you don't even try?"
"Stop trying to corrupt him!" Antha protested, pausing from her cat fight with Sera.
"I'm sorry, who's the infamous bisexual of the family that taught me that anyways, Evie?!" the boy yelled back, pronouncing her nickname very pointedly, full of accusation, but Antha only shrugged as if it wasn't important.
Malakai, desperate for a change of topic, a distraction, turned to Rynn, that friendly smile on his lips. "We haven't been properly introduced, have we?" he questioned, holding out his hand, "Malakai Mayfair."
"You'll have to pardon his identicalness to Nicolae," Courtland contributed in a low drawl, "They're tragically opposite. Malakai doesn't have an irresponsible bone in his body."
"I really wish you all would lay off it already," Malakai sighed, shaking his head, "I don't know why you wanted to pick on me tonight anyways, but---"
"Yes you do," Pierce contradicted, slithering up with that languid grace, and the smile on his face was absolutely wicked, "You never had an interest in girls before, not one---sometimes I really question if you're even related to us---you just had a weakness for Sera, because she gave you very little choice in the matter. But don't think I didn't see what happened."
"I genuinely have no idea what you're talking about," Malakai responded flatly, staring at his cousin as if he were crazy, but in the depths of his eyes there was that hint of panic, because he did know and Malakai was too short on practice to be a good liar.
"God as my witness, Malakai---and every demon in hell, for that matter---I'm getting you into bed with someone by the end of the week. Even if I have to do it myself---" Courtland began, making grand gestures to accompany his speech.
"Please don't," Malakai groaned helplessly.
"---it will be done! Actually, it might be fun."
"Don't," he repeated, "Seriously."
"Don't," Antha agreed, "Because then I would have to kill you, and who's going to argue with Julien if we are both dead?"
"Fine.But if that's the case, then you have to help me find someone for your saint of a brother."
"Malakai's problem isn't finding someone," Antha said surely, and the boy stared at with the accusation of betrayal. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I can't help it that you're an open book." The girl turned, facing the stairs again, and called loudly, "Cian! If you don't come distract us, Malakai will never have any peace! Have mercy on the poor thing!"  

[Okimiyage]

Rynn was feeling rather exhausted, and put out by Antha’s dismissive appraisal of cute, and his hand still ached from the thorns of Cyrus’s pact. He’d suspected something like that was going to happen, ever since Cyrus slipped the ring on his finger with a smile, and a brief promise, and the metal had bit down into his flesh like a vicious animal. He was somewhat abashed to admit that he’d been rescued by the old vampire, but it was simply that Vikteren had been quicker on the draw. No doubt, he’d been expecting Cyrus to send him out like a kamikaze bomber, riddled with curses.
Well, Rynn didn’t care what any of them thought of him. A tool didn’t care whose hand held it, or whether it was used to smash up a skull or to hammer in a nail. He had his own bullshit to deal with.
The whole way home, he held Liesse in his lap. There was extra room in the backseat of the car, but she refused to move away from his side, her head nodding as she desperately tried to stay awake. The streets were practically empty; in the distance, Rynn could hear an ambulance siren careening wildly off to the next victim. Eventually he let his shoulders relax, and leaned his head against his sister’s shoulder, and did not quite drowse off—that would have been impossible, trapped in a car with Antha Mayfair, far too much too go wrong—but found a measure of relaxation that he had not known in what felt like months. Liesse’s voice was a constant presence in his mind, babbling away with euphoric fervor; declarations of affection, how much he would like the house, how kind the Mayfairs had been, the beautiful rose gardens—he did not say much, because it was enough to hear her voice, and he was too exhausted to make an argument to the contrary. When they finally arrived, Rynn blanched. The noise coming from the house was extraordinary. “I was expecting something a little more classical,” he murmured to Liesse, who was just as shocked as he was, before they exited the car. Antha was far more excited than he was—she raced up the steps, and disappeared inside, leaving Rynn and Liesse to follow in her wake.
Liesse took firm hold of Rynn’s hand before they went inside, knowing that he could use the extra encouragement. And of course, she didn’t have any idea of what to expect, either, but she could at least give out names. She had to stand on tiptoes to whisper into Rynn’s ear, her line of sight indicating her target. “That one on the floor is Malakai.” Kind—a tad meek, but quite level-headed. In this family, that makes you a black sheep, it seems.
Liesse could feel the tension in Rynn’s shoulder just from the hand she had put around it. Giving his frame a light squeeze, she nudged his head with her own. “Don’t worry. Everyone here is distracted with their own problems right now. They’re not going to bother yo—“
And that was about the time that Julien and Vittorio stormed in with poor Dolly Jean at their heels. For a moment, the entire party hushed—in the face of such a spectacle, no conversation could continue—and Liesse breathed a sigh of relief when Antha stepped in. Rynn gave her an odd look for this, but did not press the matter. She had a high opinion of the Mayfair woman, considering for how briefly they had been reintroduced—oh, and that Antha had slit the throat of her last body. He tried not to listen to the raised voices—that was their business, whatever it concerned—but Liesse’s attention had already been ensnared. If it was important, he trusted that she would tell him later. He was in the process of shuffling the mud off his shoes before stepping onto the beautifully varnished wood when he heard something that did get his attention: his own name. Caught off-guard, he glanced up to find himself the subject of all the stares in the room. “s**t,” he muttered, under his breath. Liesse poked her head around him, flashing a ‘V’ with her hand. “We come in peace!” she announced brightly. Anything to break the mood, even camp sci-fi taglines from the 1950’s.
It seemed to work, anyways. Rynn attempted a smile that didn’t quite make it all the way into ‘glowering scowl’ territory, and the party continued. Liesse ushered him into the parlor when his shoes were clean, telling him, “You could have just taken them off, you know—“ but he wasn’t quite that comfortable yet, as evidenced by the result of Pierce’s attempt to pick Liesse up. For what it was worth, Rynn was actually quite restrained. His immediate impulse was to explode, but instead he maneuvered in-between Liesse and the other man, pushing her behind him, and then leaned in to whisper to Pierce. He grasped the other man gently by his collar, under the pretense of straightening it in a friendly manner. “There’s a lot to be said about the futility of pursuing a young girl while she stands at her brother’s side.” He murmured into the other’s ear. “Here’s my two cents: the next time you try it in front of me, I shatter your pretty face like a mirror.” The smile that Rynn wore when he pulled back said a lot about his earnesty on the subject; it was the same calmly determined, reassuring smile as was worn by psychologists and sociopaths alike. He took Liesse with him when he moved to the sofa. If he was honest with himself, it was just as much to get her away from Pierce as it was to have a place to sit. Rynn had become accustomed to nocturnal activities, but it had been a long day, and his strength was fading. When Courtland brought up the topic of his corruption, Rynn hardly paid attention; although Liesse sat up straight, her legs kicking against the cushions, his own interest was hardly as rapt. Rynn thought, we should have had more balls at Llyr’s Court. This clearly was what Liesse had been born to do—if it had been a hundred years ago, she would have hosted the most inspiring salons in the city.
“Malakai!” she greeted him, pleased as punch, before the approaching figure even had the chance to acknowledge her. “I’m glad they didn’t drive you into hiding before we got home—and you, stop trying to.” Liesse rounded on Courtland, who had snuck up, intent on his prey. “You’re going to make each other insane. Have some empathy—not everyone has ambitions to be the most quantifiably successful lover this city has yet to know.” Her brows knit over the hugely innocent and blue eyes Antha had given her, and she gave Courtland the fiercest look her young face could muster before turning back to Malakai. She hadn’t forgotten about his introduction. “You haven’t met my brother yet, have you?—this is Rynn. He’s very charming when he’s not passing out on your furniture—“ Rynn raised his head, protesting, “I am not passing out, I’m just—“
“resting your eyes, right?” Liesse finished for him, laughter ringing at the edges of her words. “Right, okay. Malakai, you’ll have to forgive him for the moment. He’s had a long day.”
“I’ll cop to that,” Rynn murmured, putting a hand briefly over his face.
The conversation was interrupted by a clatter of feet on the stairs. Someone had already been upstairs to try to lure Cian down earlier, it seemed; they’d brought him a tumblr full of scotch, in their kindness. Now there was only a sliver of amber liquid in the cut-crystal glass, and the rolling cadence of Cian’s steps to show for it. Leaning over the banister, his eyes lit up when he saw Antha. Then, with the enthusiasm on his face fading slightly, he spotted Rynn. “So we finally got you?” he called down, descending the staircase. Rynn took too long to look up. He knew the voice, but didn’t want to see that untrustworthy smile on Cian’s face. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he still could not respond to his brother with anything but venom. Traitor.
After a moment, Liesse called out for him. “Looks like it. Alive and all in one piece, too!” Cian paused on the bottom step, finishing off his scotch, and then grinned at the three of them. “There’s a reunion I never expected to see.” Liesse nodded, giving her brother a sidelong glance; Rynn had still not spoken, although his eyes were now fixed on Cian. She bit her lip, giving their older sibling a worried look, which was returned with a careless wink. “Don’t let me interrupt anything here. I’ll be back around in a bit.” Strolling into the parlor, he stretched his arms up above his head and called out to his wife. “Antha!” Coming up behind her, he dropped the hoop of his clasped arms around her shoulders and let his head sink against hers. “Julien is trying to destroy me.” He announced mournfully. “My spirit has been terribly damaged. There’s nothing left inside of me except dates and lines of descent and names. So many names. Your family tree isn’t a tree, Antha, it’s a goddamn road map drawn up by the criminally insane. You need the processing power of a supercomputer to make sense of it all, you know that?“  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

In the parlor, covertly watching the exchange that happened between Pierce and Rynn, a slow, wicked grin crept across Antha's face, that Cheshire smile that was apparently a common trait amongst the Mayfair children. "You got scol~ded," she purred, not so quietly, in his ear, pronouncing the syllables separately, and snickered at it.
"I can't believe you two aren't friends," he scoffed as she lingered at his side, her chin atop the hands folded on his shoulder, making a flicker of a gesture between her and Rynn, "As much as you looove to scold us."
"You deserve it," Malakai murmured, dropping down onto the couch beside Liesse with the smallest, weariest sigh, only to have Sera drop suddenly into his lap, her arm wrapping tightly around his neck, and his flustered panic returned.
Courtland meanwhile, listening to Liesse in that drug-induced haze, laughed wildly. "Drive each other insane, she says," he cackled, clutching his stomach, "Oh, no, darling, we are insane. Completely, wildly, certifiably insane, each and every one of us, and we love every goddamn moment of it."
"Cheers to that," Antha offered, holding her glass of tragically non-alcoholic substance up in a brief toast, met by Armand and Pierce with their own, less innocent drinks.
Courtland, still laughing, seized Liesse's hands and kissed her palms, pulling her up to spin her around in what was not quite a dance. "We're going to get along just peachy keen, sugar," he pronounced in a greatly exaggerated, thick southern drawl, "It's wonderful to have another girl around, really. We can't stand most of the girls in our family, they're all the same the way we're all the same---except for Saint Malakai, of course---but they're all bitches."
"Hey!" Sera protested in a shrill hiss, glaring at her cousin as Malakai surreptitiously tried to slide out from beneath her, prying her fingers off of his neck.
"Oh, stop playing innocent, sitting there trying to rape the good little boy. Anyways, Dolly Jean is too delicate to play with us, our jokes mortify her, and Antha's always running off with new playmates."
"It's just rude to be so exclusive," Antha responded lightly, seated on the back of the couch, one leg dangling just off the floor as she observed them.
"And if you want me to stop teasing Malakai," he purred thoughtfully, slinging an arm around her shoulders as his eyes narrowed with the most viciously teasing glimmer at the boy, who paled expectantly, "Why don't you marry him? Then you could stay and play with us forever, and we wouldn't have to make so much fun of poor, sweet little Saint Malakai. And maybe Sera would stop taking advantage of him every chance she gets."
"Stop saying weird things," Malakai groaned, shaking his head partly to try and hide his flushed cheeks.
"What's weird?" Courtland demanded, all innocently shocked eyes, "She's a pretty witch girl, and we like her." He motioned to Jack to indicate the 'we', the latter nodding with agreement as if the two boys weren't always of the same mind,. "A better question is, why aren't you on board with it?"
Malakai, his face going scarlet, was spared the agony of attempting to respond by the clatter that descended the stairs, drawing the attention of his cousins away from him. "Oh," Courtland began, as if he had only just thought to mention it, turning to Antha, "I've been trying to get your husband drunk since you left. Sorry." And he grinned to show he wasn't.
"About time someone did," Antha purred as his arms came down around her, running a hand sympathetically along his cheek, "Poor darling. You're hardly Julien's first victim. He's a ruiner of lives and crusher of spirits, that's for ******** to that," Vittorio muttered angrily, trudging back into the parlor and straight to the bar, grabbing the first bottle he could get his hands on, "I thought he was going to take a pair of gardening shears to my throat when he walked in on us."
"That's what you get for being naughty with sweet, sweet little Dolly Jean," Courtland cackled, going to lean against him with his arm over his shoulder.
"I can't even imagine such a thing," Armand murmured, shaking his head, "Thinking of Dolly Jean as a sexual object is like thinking of a Care Bear as sexual."
"Good," Vittorio hissed, shooting him a sharp glance, "Keep your lecherous thoughts away from her."
"Oh, I can already tell this is the start to a fun new era of taunting," Jack said, that devious gleam that perfectly mirrored Courtland's in his eyes, highlighted by the electric glow of whatever drugs they had ingested that night.
"A new era of your face getting bashed in, if you dare," Vittorio responded, smiling coldly, and the boys tactfully retreated, though they still conspired amongst themselves.
Jacob entered as this was going on, silently as was his manner, bearing a tray of teacups that he set on the coffee table. "Miss Liesse," he greeted her kindly, smiling, as he offered the tea, "Mr. Calais."
"Don't go pushing the tea on her," Pierce hissed, pushing the tray away, "We are scotch swillers and vodka vanquishers, gin guzzlers and bourbon busters."
"That last one doesn't even make sense---"
"Give the girl a goddamn bottle already, I was downing them one after another when I was years younger than her."
"In case you missed the deafening screams earlier," Antha purred to Cian, settling easily against him as Pierce went on about...whatever he was saying to Jacob, "Vittorio and Dolly Jean are getting married. Julien is, to phrase it lightly, homicidally enraged by the entire situation."
"But watch him cry at the wedding," Pierce scoffed, plopping down on the couch with his legs stretched languidly across Malakai, pinning him down while Sera tried to drag him up, "He cried at your wedding, if you didn't notice."
"Of course he did," Antha murmured, preoccupied with combing out Cian's hair with her fingers, "The reporters were there, and he's such a loving uncle in the society section." The girl sighed, bringing her arms around Cian's waist and laying her head against his shoulder, "We never should have told him about it the wedding until it was over. Better yet, we should have just eloped."
"Give it up, Antha," Armand chided her, downing his drink in one smooth motion and moving to make another, "It's over, it's done with, you survived without a heart attack---though I was really about to call paramedics to be on stand-by for a while there---and you didn't have to deal with the massive blow back of Julien's rage that eloping would have caused."
"Though it might have given him a heart attack," Courtland sang out as if he had only just realized it, his tone conspiratory, "Drats, we missed a golden opportunity. Quick! Liesse, Malakai, do us a solid and elope."
"That might do it," Jack agreed, studying the two, "Malakai is the favored son. Come on guys, just this one quick favor?"
"I'll do it," Sera offered, giving a yank of Malakai's arm that dragged him stumbling into her and tossed Pierce flat on the floor, which the expression on his face clearly said was unforgiveable and would meet with vengeance.
"No thank you," Malakai muttered quietly, strained, as if it hurt him to be that mean. Sera, her eyes hardening and face settling into angry lines, leaned in to whisper something in his ear and his face went scarlet, his entire body tense and rigid.
Antha, quick to respond as Sera tugged at Malakai's arm, trying to move him towards his room and Malakai, still in shock from whatever had been uttered into his ear, stumbled slowly in an unaware haze where he was dragged, seized her brother, maneuvering him away from Sera and placing him carefully between Liesse and Pierce on the couch. Pierce, still glaring at Sera, threw his legs back across the boy's lap, protectively patting his head.
When Sera, who feared Antha as much as anyone else in the city who was not in her good graces, began to protest, Antha shut her up with one dangerous glare, announcing icily, "If you ever so much as look at my big brother without his consent again, I will destroy you in every conceivable way. Compris?"
Sera was gone before Antha could repeat herself, the front door slamming after her, and slowly but surely, the Mayfair boys present all burst into laughter. "I never get tired of that," Courtland sighed contentedly, just as Malakai snapped out of his stunned stupor and glanced around, a long, shuddering sigh of relief escaping his lips.
"I thought she'd never leave," he moaned, leaning back and going slack, as if he hadn't been able to relax since she'd set foot in the house. (And really, he hadn't.)
"My turn!" Courtland shouted, a launched himself at Malakai like some wild cat before anyone knew what was happening. Malakai only had enough time to cry out in shock before he was wrestled into the floor, fighting frantically to keep his shirt buttoned.
"You'll have to deal with that one yourself," Antha said with an exhausted little sigh, giving a dismissive gesture of her hand and returning to Cian, grabbing his arm to bring it securely around herself, "Anyways, perhaps it's time we got Rynn to bed. I'm not sure how much longer he can hold out."
"No!" Courtland whined in protest, pausing just long enough for Malakai to throw him off of him and scrambled clear across the room, furiously re-buttoning his shirt, "You just go take Cian back to your room and do whatever it is that makes such a godawful clatter every night and leave Rynn and Liesse to play with us."
"Oh, the clatter," Pierce muttered, shuddering, "I thought someone had set jungle cats loose in there last night. I almost wanted to go check it out."
"But that was for different reasons," Jack cackled.
Antha, ignoring the side conversation that had spawned, went to Courtland, grabbing his ear between thumb and forefinger so that he cried, "Ouch! Ack, no, mercy! Mercy, Antha!" In the next moment, with a single precise stroke, Courtland was on his back in the floor, laughing uncontrollably against his will, his leg wildly kicking. "Mercy!" he pleaded again, gasping between laughter.
"What did I tell you?" Antha purred, as a parent would scold a child.
"It's bedtime!" Courtland squealed, "Now let me go so I can go to bed like a good boy!"
Antha seemed to ponder this for a moment or two, still subjecting him to the torturous weakness, and then finally released him to lay on his back in the floor, red-faced and desperately gasping for air. "I thought you might agree," she said triumphantly, grinning down at Courtland as she patted his head, "Now, until we can figure out other arrangements---and believe me, I'm this close to pitching tents in the garden and throwing the lot of you in them---Vittorio, why don't we let Dolly Jean room with you for the night---"
"By all means," Vittorio agreed, "Besides, she passed out in my bed twenty minutes ago. This has all been too much excitement for her."
"---and Rynn and Liesse can stay in Dolly Jean and Liesse's room."
"Will he survive the barrage of pastels?" Pierce murmured, shaking his head, "It's a little overwhelming."
"Speaking of which, Pierce, where the hell have you been sleeping?" Antha added, quirking an eyebrow at him.
"With Courtland and Jack, of course," came his low, rumbling purr as he slid an arm around Jack's shoulder, "But I thought I might sneak into Malakai's room tonight. He never locks his door, and you know nothing short of a nuclear explosion will ever wake him up."
"Don't you dare," Malakai murmured, putting a hand to his temple in a gesture innately reminiscent of Antha, which made Armand smirk.
"Come on, it's been a hell of a long day and tomorrow's going to be just as long, if Julien has his way. And he usually does."
As with everything else, the Mayfair children made a great clatter retiring to their rooms, Courtland and Jack racing one another, Malakai frantically trying to close Pierce out of his room, Amadeo darting out of the library and trotting along after Antha, mewing at her.
"Bonne nuit," the girl called down the hall as she stepped into her room, dragging Cian in with her.
"Fais de beaux reves," Pierce called back.
Courtland followed with, "Pas de cauchemars!" And then the doors all down the hall closed, beds creaking and drawers groaning open, Courtland and Jack's muffled laughter through the walls.
Antha leaned her back wearily against the door when it was closed, turning the key in the lock, and only then did she seem to relax. "I'm sorry to spring this on you," she murmured, her eyes following Cian as he moved, "I wasn't really planning on moving Rynn in before it happened. Really, I'm starting to rethink the alarming lack of planning I do with these things." Her fingers went nimbly to the little row of buttons on her dress, sliding it off and replacing it with that old button-up shirt that she had always thought made her look like a small child trying on their father's clothes. "But really, whoever would have imagined it," she continued, climbing onto the bed and sitting with her legs folded beneath her, Amadeo hopping ecstatically into her lap to have his ears scratched, purring loudly, "The three of you living here. It's bound to be interesting." She paused, idly stroking Amadeo's tummy when he rolled over to reveal it, and slowly a little amused grin crept across her lips. "Not to alarm you, but I think my brother is on the verge of falling helplessly in love with your sister." She gave a single small, quiet laugh, her gaze dropping down to Amadeo as he wriggled blissfully in her lap. "I think Courtland and Pierce foresaw it, too. Hence the distraction strategy of Sera. Though they seemed to forget how utterly ruthless she is, and how little tolerance I have for her."
The girl sighed, falling backwards into the sheets, and Amadeo curled happily into a little ball on her stomach. She loved the moonlight in this room, streaming through the enormous antique windowpanes, the glow of it on her pale skin, she always had, ever since she was a child and it had been her room alone, her sanctuary from the torture of Julien's presence. "That poor boy, he has absolutely none of the Mayfair powers of seduction. I think Nicolae soaked it all up before they were born." Down the hallway, a great boom of laughter sounded that made Antha jolt up and Amadeo scramble under the sheets, his fur standing on end as he peeked out, startled. "Shut up, Courtland!" Antha yelled, grabbing a book from the bedside table and hurling it at the wall with a great thump that shook the heavy framed paintings hanging on the walls.
"No, you quiet down!" he yelled back, his voice thick with whatever else the boys had ingested in the past few minutes.
"Shut up or I will Shut. You. Down," Antha called venomously.
After a brief moment of silence, he called meekly, "Sorry, Evie!" and then they were quiet.
"They're hopeless," she sighed, shaking her head, and then all at once grabbed Cian's arm, yanking him down into bed with her.
Five minutes later, after a great deal of effort, Amadeo fled into the hallway, running to scratch frantically at the door to Dolly Jean's room, mewing pitifully. Courtland, on his back on his bed, his legs extended up the wall, glanced at the upside-down door, inadvertently spilling his drink across his bare chest. "They must be at it again," he sighed, only a little enviously.
"Must," Jack murmured, laying on his stomach, pulling a pillow over his head to muffle the cat's cries, "If this is what comes from being married, why aren't we married?"
"Monogamy," Courtland said flatly, as if it were a curse.
"I think we should get married," Jack continued, poking his head out from under the pillow, "But you have to wear the dress."
"And I would ******** rock it," he declared, attempting to make a dramatic gesture that sent him tumbling over on himself, and consequently bursting into laughter that had Jack laughing with him, more quietly, shaking his shoulder and trying to shush him.
"You're going to get us into trouble!" he giggled as Courtland wriggled around, trying unsuccessfully to straighten himself.
He only scoffed. "They're too busy ******** to notice," he said, loudly, to illustrate his point. And then, in afterthought, called at the wall that separated their room from Dolly Jean's, "Sorry, Liesse! We'll be quiet now!"
In the hallway, the floorboards creaked faintly as Malakai padded carefully across them in his bare feet, clad only in his pajama pants, his raven hair slightly mussed from the few minutes his head had been on his pillow. "Come on, little one," he whispered quietly to Amadeo, going to scoop him up in his arms, and the kitten burrowed gratefully into his embrace, that low thrum of a purr beginning in his chest, "You can sleep with me tonight, just stop crying so loud."  

[Okimiyage]

Liesse, despite Pierce's best efforts to commend otherwise, had taken a cup of tea; someone needed to be alert enough to tug Rynn from the sofa when it was time for bed. His eyes were barely open when the party at last began to break up, and it was left to Liesse, in the parlor, to pull at his sleeves until he stood, and guide him through the halls to Dolly Jean's room. He hardly noticed the decor, although he would in the morning; at the moment, Liesse wasn't certain that he was conscious of anything besides the mattress that he was laid down upon. Dolly-Jean was already in bed, her back facing them. She'd had a very trying day; Liesse couldn't imagine the fearful shock Julien must have given the poor thing.
For a long time, she sat on the edge of his bed, looking at her brother's face. The window-sash in Dolly-Jean's room was drawn back, and moonlight filtered in and turned all of her pastels into a uniform shade of marble. Rynn looked older now. The streak of white contributed to that, and the scar on his lip gave him a rakish air. It suited him, and yet Liesse didn't like it. She couldn't help but imagine his old face, which had once been hers, in place of the pallid mask he now wore. He stirred under the weight of her gaze, rolling over on the pillow to unconsciously make room for her. This is they way it had been in the old house.
It had been ages since Rynn and Liesse had slept together like this, side to side. Their rooms had been separate, once, but connected by a door; on a constant basis, one twin would find an excuse to creep into the other's room until it had made no sense to attempt to stop them. They'd never been caught doing anything, anyways; just laying awake until midnight, staring into one another's eyes and locked into some secret mental conversation that no-one around them could make sense of. He'd confessed his dreams to her--grandiose ambitions to restore the name of the Calais, to make the rotting shell of a house new and whole again, a place where the living were revered rather than the dead. Her own dreams had been less impressive--blooming roses before the full summer heat came, no sacrifices, Cian to come home from his next drug-binge. Small, domestic things, and he had laughed and compared her to Hestia, the goddess who would give up her throne for a hearth. Finally, Liesse stood, and began undoing the buttons on her frock.
They'd puzzled themselves together so perfectly before that Liesse was almost nervous, sliding under the covers, as to how it would go now. They'd had years of practice with her old body, but now...
The fit wasn't perfect. Liesse felt too small, next to him. That was to be expected. But she curled around her brother like a cat, making herself comfortable no matter where she was, and listened to his breathing until she fell asleep.

Rynn woke up before his sister, although he'd slept better this night than he had in weeks. No dreams, just reassuring darkness. The pain in his hand was by now a dull ache, twinging only when he focused on it, and he'd managed to ignore it for most of the night.
Rynn had fallen asleep facing the windows, and what had been the gentle caress of moonlight had turned into a torrential blaze of sunshine by morning. After hanging out with creatures of the night for so long, it was little surprise that the man had developed an increased sensitivity to light. He could feel Liesse's small hands clutching around him, knotting into his shirt. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming, because he recognized the touch despite unfamiliar hands, because he almost expected to open his eyes and see the interior of his old room again. When he did, and it all came rushing back, it was a struggle to maintain his composure. He'd almost forgotten the events of the prior night. He wanted to leap out of bed, whisk Liesse up in the sheets, and carry her about the house trumpeting jubilation. However sleep-addled, Rynn had the common sense to realize the other residents probably wouldn't appreciate this, however. He settled for extricating himself from Liesse's grasp with surgical delicacy, kissing her brow, and then left her to rise. There was something eerie about padding about the house when it was totally still, nobody else awake, that Rynn enjoyed. And if he admitted it to himself, he was starving. His previous residence was nowhere near as accommodating as this; ancient vampires rarely had the forethought to suppose that their guests would require anything like breakfast. Even if Rynn didn't know the layout of the manor, he had a hungry man's instinct for where the kitchen was. Besides, he could smell coffee brewing. He followed his nose through the twisting corridors until it led him to a corner around which he caught sight of the French press from which the scent emanated. And the person who was pouring from it.
"Ah, you're awake. Want any coffee?"
Cian had gotten up early to study. That was his excuse. And because Cian wasn't a Calais for nothing--there was something to be said for the kind of scheming mentality being raised around that family imparted--it was also so that he could catch his brother creepin' around the house. He was gratified to see that his suspicions were correct; Rynn couldn't resist the chance to go poking around without a guide. The lure of coffee had been too much for him to resist, at least. He felt like saying, See? I know your weaknesses after all.
But that would have just put Rynn on the defensive. Still, some of their rare, unmiserable conversations in the past had occurred over a fragile styrofoam cup,

steaming in the morning air as they sat on the steps at six a.m., Cian out of his mind and lucid with little red pills tonight, talkative, all of his thoughts seeming to pour out of him like a song, and pushing his coffee on his brother because his mouth was so full of words that there was no room for liquid, and Rynn laughing, telling him he was an idiot but still listening anyways, and coaxing him inside, and they'd sit in the kitchen for hours, until coming to from the dreams--

Cian hoped that Rynn would recall those times now. The 'good times', as they were referred to, at least what had qualified for them in their existence. "Cups are over here," Cian told him, putting down the press and opening a cabinet for Rynn.
Rynn came around the kitchen table suspiciously, the pleasantness on his face all vanished. "Good morning," he said anyways, for the sake of politeness. No matter what kind of fool Rynn Calais was, he at least realized that he was going to be living in this house for some length of time, and if Cian was determined to speak to him then it was all going to be much harder if he didn't give him some measure of acknowledgement. Anyways, he wanted the coffee. "Well played, Cian." he murmured under his breath.

"What was that?"

Rynn selected a big, glistening ceramic mug, deliberated, then chose to ignore the question. "I hear you're doing quite well up here. Lovely young wife, kids on the way. Big family, lots of laughs, the incest's good for gossip." He was pouring himself coffee. Cian looked like he didn't quite know what to say, but he cut Rynn off anyways. "Can you knock it off for just a second? Ever?"
Rynn quirked an eyebrow, then moved to the table. He sat down, cupped his hands around his mug, and drank. Cian hated that. His little brother had a way of making you feel like a Neanderthal whenever he irritated you.
"Look," he sighed. "I know we have our--differences, and we haven't been really close in the past. I'm not Liesse, but at least we have her back now, and maybe you can find some measure of--of peace? out of that. I don't know--I just don't want it to be like it was back at the house, in the final days. Everything's falling apart here, too, you know? The Mayfairs put on a glossy front. It sounds nice when you read about it in the papers. Underneath--despite what jolly drunks we all make--everyone's scared shitless. You, especially, should know the feeling. And despite all of this, they went to all that damn trouble to rescue you." "Rescue me? I--" And Rynn's scoffing laughter was cut off by the sharp tone in Cian's voice. Muddled, wild Cian, who had so rarely ever spoken in seriousness. "You heard me. And you can't deny it. They brought a dead girl back to life for you. You owe them that much. So whatever issues you have with me, or this family, with what has gone on, can we please just bury it already? Just--be civil. I'm not asking that you make friends with Antha, just don't piss her off."
Rynn's face had gone still, and he drank his coffee with a statue's grim determination. Finally, after Cian had gone quiet, he said, "I'm not going to roll over at anyone's feet like a puppy just because they give me a treat. And I should think that you'd know better, Cian, than to think I'd behave like an animal while I'm a guest in someone else's home." After a moment, he took a deep breath, and let it all out again. The tension left his body. Cian was right, as much as Rynn didn't like to admit it. He owed them. And perhaps that warranted the respect enough to be honest with his brother now. "I can't say I ever expected to find myself here. In a way, it feels very much coerced, but--I'm happier than I've been in a long time. Before Liesse got sick, I'd thought of trying to make the acquaintance of the Mayfairs--I'd heard about them from Aleric--but I never thought it would be like this when I did." And Rynn quirked a smile at what was an admittedly pitiful attempt at humor. What he didn't want to admit was that he was sick of fighting. He'd gotten what he'd set out for, so long ago, when he had first conceived his plan to return Liesse to herself. He'd forgotten that had been the original goal. And now she was--in a different body, perhaps, but still the same wise little soul.
"But for what it's worth, I can vow this to you. I'll be--not good, not yet, but better. Around company, anyways."  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

As had always been, the Mayfair children were not morning people. While Cian and Rynn crept about downstairs, they slept soundly, Courtland and Jack and Pierce all tangled into one mass in their single bed, Malakai huddled under his blanket as still as a corpse, Armand collapsed atop his covers still fully dressed, an open book still clutched in his hand, fallen against his chest, and Antha curled up in her massive bed all alone but for the ball of fur that was Amadeo sleeping in the curve of her stomach. She had awakened briefly with Cian, tugged on his arm and whined for him to stay in bed, but in the end it had been to no avail and she had rolled over, defeated, and fallen back asleep.
The adults were a different story. There were only the two of them of course, Michael and Julien, but no matter the events of the night the men were up before the Calais boys, dressed to the nines as ever, and when Julien strolled into the kitchen, he was a little surprised to find that he was no longer alone. "Cian," he greeted the boy, in that cool, aristocratic demeanor he was known for, and then turning to glance at Rynn, as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted to acknowledge the boy, "Rynn." His morning paper was already set on the small table in the corner, and Julien tucked it under his arm as he went to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Lestan tells me you've made quite a slave of yourself to studying," Julien murmured in passing, as if he hadn't expected it from the boy but approved, "I'm glad to see my niece has not ruined you completely as a productive creature, as she is want to do."
"Cian can handle her," Michael pointed out in his defense, striding into the kitchen with an unlit cigarette in his lips, taking a moment to chuck the boy affectionately under the chin, "He won't be utterly demolished by the sheer strength of her spirit like other boys in his situation. Or yours, for that matter."
"If he is going to raise my grandchildren," Julien began as he fixed his coffee, his voice a low, passive-aggressive hiss, "He is damn well going to know this family's history, backwards and forwards."
"What a breach of protocol so early in the morning," Michael said in faint, dry amusement as he fetched his own cup, "Your age is starting to show, Julien."
"My sheer exhaustion with trying to keep these miscreants from ruining everything they just so happen to touch," he muttered back, retreating with his coffee and his paper to the dining room through the swinging door.
"He's going soft," Michael whispered when he was gone, "When I married the Designee of the Legacy and moved into this house, he tried to throw me down the stairs. But then, that was some twenty-five years ago, and Mary Beth adored her little brother Julien where Antha is determined to wear him down into an early grave if it is the last thing she does." Michael gave a small chuckle, sitting down at the table where he could crack the sliding door to the back porch and light up his cigarette. "And besides, we did elope."
Jacob was milling around by this point, brewing more coffee and getting breakfast ready, and to the general shock of those who knew her, Antha came stumbling down the stairs during all of this, bleary eyed and disheveled, her scarlet curls mussed from sleep, still clad in Nicolae's old shirt and her feet bare on the cool hardwood floors. If she noticed she was not alone in the kitchen, she did not show it until she reached habitually for the coffee and Jacob slapped her hand away. "Pregnant women do not drink caffeine," Michael reminded her sweetly, and the girl truly looked as if she would cry for it.
"It's too early to be pregnant," she muttered semi-coherently, ambling around the counter and collapsing into one of the chairs as Jacob poured her a glass of milk, her oddest little vice.
"Acts of nature do not recognize times of day," Michael responded, taking a long drag of his cigarette.
"But there's not enough sleep," she mumbled thickly, slowly beginning to fold her arms on the counter and laying her head to rest on them, "And Nicolae's stupid...ghost...stories..." She was dozing before anyone could try to make sense of that. Michael merely chalked it up to a dream as Jacob took a hand towel and ran it under the faucet, the water icy, and touched it to her forehead. She was awake again with a jolt, swaying in her seat, her eyes wide and unfocused.
In the dining room, Julien was yelling half-heartedly about something, and presently Courtland and Jack tumbled into the kitchen, only dressed as far as boxers. Courtland, dragging himself around like a sleepwalker zombie, cast a glance around the kitchen until his eyes fell on Rynn and, suddenly, he let out a little yelp of shock that brought Jack, the slightly more lucid of the two, to a more alert state. After a moment, all eyes staring curiously at Courtland, something seemed to occur to the boy and he calmed, making a clumsy dismissive gesture at Rynn, "Oh right, you live here." And he laughed, dazed and hysteric, as he went for the coffee.
"Where's Pierce?" Antha murmured, her head in her hand as if propping it up was the only way to keep herself awake.
Courtland glanced to Jack, confused. "Did we ever untie him?" Jack shrugged his shoulders, and Courtland did the same in answer to Antha. "I think it's time to revisit naked breakfast," he declared groggily, to which a raised voice answered him from the dining room.
"Absolutely no naked breakfasts."
"Nazi!" Courtland yelled back at him, scowling and muttering curses under his breath, and finally crawled up onto the wooden table top, curling up as if he might go back to sleep there.
Antha meanwhile, lingering between consciousness and sleep on the counter, had given a jolt, her fingers brushing her stomach, and in the next split second had bolted from her chair, which was only just caught by Cyrus as he entered with Belle and Victoria in tow, and slammed the door of the bathroom shut behind her. Expectantly, Jacob took a packet of medicine from the cabinet and dropped the little fizzing tablet into a glass of water on the counter.
"Thousands of years of medical progress and no one's ever come up with a cure for morning sickness," Courtland muttered, amused.
Michael, crushing out his cigarette, had taken up the glass of effervescent liquid and slipped quietly into the bathroom, stroking Antha's hair as the contents of her stomach spilled back out. "She was never more like her mother," Julien muttered, the irony far from lost on him as he returned to the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.
"I still have nightmares about being a child and waking up in the middle of the night, aunt Mary Beth screaming curses from the bathroom," Cyrus said in agreement.
"To hell with all of you," Antha called from the bathroom, gasping, "I am nothing li---" She was silenced by another convulsion, the slosh of liquid matter. "Goddamn it, I hate this!" she screamed, and Julien smirked silently with self-satisfaction that he was right.
"I'm taking bets on what happens in the delivery room," Courtland announced suddenly, rapidly sitting up on the table, "I've got twenty bucks that says she beats the living hell out of Cian because it's his fault."
"And I have fifty that says she beats the hell out of Julien instead, just because the sight of him annoys her," Jack countered.
"Well that's a given," Cyrus laughed, but was silenced by the sharp glance Julien shot him before he tromped back out of the room.
"Thirty says she threatens any doctor that won't give her painkillers with his life and means it," Vittorio jumped in, strolling through the door dressed for the day with Dolly Jean at his heels, clutching his arm as she tried not to look at Rynn so she wouldn't panic.
"Ten bucks says you're the one that gets stuck with that job," Jack cackled, and Vittorio shook his head vigorously, his eyes speaking fear, "And another says Dolly Jean cries hysterically." The girl stared at him, alarmed and hurt, and he had to pat her arm and kiss her cheek to mend her feelings.
"And the entire goddamn Mayfair fortune says I string every last one of you up in the fish tank if this conversation continues," Antha said with a note of finality, appearing in the doorway looking exhausted but awake at last. The boys bit their lips on their laughter, but said no more on the subject.
"Antha, Antha!" Dolly Jean squealed, forgetting entirely her anxiety about the strange boy under their roof as she went running up to her cousin, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt as Antha settled back into her chair, the glass of medicine clutched desperately in her hands, "Antha, can we have our wedding in the garden?"
"Of course," Antha murmured, as if it were a given, "It would hardly be the first. Aunt Suzette can take care of all that."
"And you'll be one of my bridesmaids?" the girl continued, working herself up into a childish fit of excitement, and Antha nodded, flashing her that loving smile that said she was happy Dolly Jean was happy, "And do you think Liesse would be one?"
"I'd be willing to wager," Courtland said, grinning at his little joke as Antha flashed him a murderous glare. "Come on! Oh, ******** you, I'm funny."
"Speaking of Liesse," Antha began, taking the last drink of the medicine and setting the glass down on the counter, "She can't go on wearing your old dresses forever, they're a little oddly fit on her. Maybe you could take her to the quarter today?"
Dolly Jean nodded rapidly in agreement, beaming, until Courtland mentioned, "That means taking Rynn, too. I don't want to be the one that tries to separate them for more than ten minutes." Dolly Jean, being so suddenly reminded of the stranger, couldn't help but glance at him, her eyes going wide and panic-stricken, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she took refuge at Vittorio's side.
"I want to go~!" Belle declared, bouncing across the kitchen, her golden curls following wildly after her as she threw herself at Malakai, who was just stumbling in, unaware of anything, and only instinct put her safely in his arms instead of falling to the floor, "Uncle Malakai, will you take us shopping? Will you?"
The boy blinked his eyes at her, those golden-brown hues muddled darkly with incomprehension. The only thing he knew in this state, more asleep than awake, was that Belle was going to have her way whether he liked it or not, and so he nodded in assent, bringing her to excited squeals of delight, her arms closing tight around his neck.
"Belle, if you strangle him, who will you marry in ten years?" Antha chided her, and her tone was beginning to resemble that soft, teasing cadence she used with her family.
The little girl, her arms loosening around Malakai's neck, looked thoughtfully around her, weighing her options. "In that case, I'd marry uncle Cian. You don't mind, do you aunt Antha?"
Instantly, the house shook with Courtland's sudden boom of hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach as he rolled off the table and into the floor, stamping his foot as if he just couldn't contain himself. Jack was nearly beside him, down on his knees with laughter, and Vittorio and Cyrus were trying---and failing---to hold back their own laughter, turning their heads to be polite. Antha, an eyebrow quirked and her eyes speaking silently of her amusement, gave Cian a little gesture, as if to say 'I'll let you handle that one.' "She'll marry Cian, she says," Courtland gasped at long last, wiping the tears from beneath his ecstatically shining eyes, full of the promise of a storm waiting to happen, "Oh Cian, you do have a way with Mayfair girls, don't you? You only scared the living hell out of Dolly Jean for a few days, and Aunt Vera liked you, too, I thought she was going to maul you before the wedding."
"We do not mention my mother's name in this house," Pierce hissed threateningly, stepping into the kitchen in a freshly pressed oxford shirt and an almost identical pair of those leather pants, plastered to him like a second skin, and not a single hair out of place, "At least not until she realizes I'm not going back to Paris and shows up like a bat out of hell to lock me in a box and ship me back off."
"Seconded," Antha murmured venomously, angrily slamming the spoon she had been using to stir her tea down on the counter.
"Oh, don't be bitter," Courtland chided her, "Just because she took advantage of Nicolae in a weak moment seven years ago doesn't mean---" He realized his error a few moments after everyone else did, eyes turning to him in horrified shock, even Jacob's, and instantly his eyes were full of the acutest terror. Antha continued to sip her tea, not quite looking at anyone, and after several attempts to form an apology, or change the subject, Courtland started running.
Antha slid easily from her chair, her fingers working nimbly to roll the long sleeves of Nicolae's shirt up to her elbows. "Excuse me," she pardoned herself, politely enough if her voice did not carry a stony promise of death, and in the next second was after him.
"I didn't think he was that stupid," Pierce mumbled, taking a long sip of his coffee as a door tried and failed to slam further down the hallway, groaning as it budged just slightly back and forth, caught between two opposing forces.
"He should know better," Vittorio agreed, ignoring the shattering of something in another room, Courtland's terrified scream as he hit the floor, "He was the one she went running to, screaming and crying and calling curses on the both of them."
("For the love of God, someone get her off me! Antha, no, not the book! Antha---OW! ********! I---NOOO!")
"You see," Pierce explained, sliding up next to Cian, "When Antha was fourteen, and Nicolae was still the only thing in the world she would have killed for, when he still had a decent chance of convincing her to abandon everything else she had ever known to run away with him, Vera pulled a Sera and got him drunk and took advantage of him. Not that Antha was his first, he's always had a weakness for women. For mommy dearest's part, I think it has something to do with her obsession with their mother, Mary Beth, God knows that's why she's always batting her lashes at uncle Michael. Anyways, Antha was...devastated isn't even a strong enough word for it. She just sort of broke down and nothing was left but rage. Even Malakai couldn't soothe her, and he was in the biggest panic for it. Consequentially, Antha turned to Courtland, and Courtland did what he does best. I thought Nicolae was going to flat out murder him in the hallway. Actually, I think he genuinely tried."
"Tried to bash his head in with one of Stefan's little bronze statues," Jack confirmed, nodding solemnly. As someone who had actually had his face bashed in with a blunt object by one of his cousins for doing something reckless, he was very solemn about it all.
"Anyways," Pierce continued smoothly, "We don't mention the incident around Antha anymore. It's just asking for, well..." He made a gesture towards the front of the house, from which Courtland was yelling for help
There was another crash, something else shattering, and Julien stormed into the kitchen, massaging his temples, his face set in weary, angry lines. "I thought my antiques were safe when we stopped arguing over Cian," he groaned, flinching with the next crash.
"Breakfast is ready!" Jacob called, before Julien could explode.
"Hurray," Courtland called, weakly, defeated, from down the hall.
"I'll go get Liesse," Pierce announced hastily, turning to run towards the stairs, but was halted by Antha's arm around his neck as she reappeared in the doorway. "Dolly Jean," she said, sweetly, as Pierce scratched at her arm, being choked, "Would you go get Liesse, please?"
"Kay," she said, turning and skipping out, past Armand who spared what might have been the murder of his cousin in the doorway only a fleeting glance.
Eventually, Pierce was released to join the rest of the family in the dining room, dropping into his chair, and while Antha took her place at the head of the table opposite Julien, Courtland dragged himself in, his head tilted back as he pinched his nose closed, a bloody tissue clasped to it, the skin around his eye beginning to bloom black. "Jack, I swear, if you ate all the bacon already---"
"I tried," the boy sighed, taking his seat beside Courtland, "It was such a good opportunity, with you distracting everyone, but Jacob slapped me when I tried."
"Serves you right," he muttered, reaching for the plate of bacon.
"Would you children put the alcohol away for just one morning," Julien sighed, and Jack froze, hunched over the glass held between his legs as he unscrewed the cap of his flask.
"It's an herbal supplement," he lied flatly when he regained his composure, pouring half the contents into his orange juice and handing the flask over to Courtland, who drank it straight.
Dolly Jean arrived then with Liesse, happily taking her seat beside Vittorio, which she had claimed long ago and which Julien very pointedly looked away from only now.
"Lawrence called while you were sleeping," Julien informed Antha then, still reading over his paper, "He says you're creating an absolute PR nightmare for him."
Antha scoffed. "He always says that."
"Because you always are."
"Then maybe he should have thought twice about taking over for his father."
"He shouldn't have been a lawyer to begin with," Armand murmured in agreement, "Much less the family caretaker. He's too easily stressed out."
"Lesser men would commit suicide over the trouble you lot get into and he has to sort out," Julien muttered.
"He knew what it meant when he got himself into it," Courtland pointed out defensively.
"He resigned himself to it years before you were sending girls into panics over pregnancy scares, or else sending them running half-clothed out of hotels, screaming about ghosts, and even longer before Antha had men standing on roofs, threatening to jump because she didn't love them. And the other way around, you with your boys and Antha with her girls."
"Glass houses, Julien," Antha said quickly in her defense, "They knew what it was when it started. You're the one that kept your mistresses and then tossed them aside for forty some odd years. And you're the reason the family could never keep a butler, you were always seducing them and leaving them confused and broken. You forget, we learned the family history at oncle Louis's knee."
"That was when people knew the meaning of discretion," he retaliated, and Courtland and Jack tried not to snicker to see him on the defensive about his conquests. His many, many, many conquests, enough to dwarf theirs. "Nowadays, no one knows what it means to keep your mouth shut and mind your own business."
"Eh, c'est la vie," Courtland shrugged, though his grin suggested a coming taunt, "As much as you loved the world of your childhood, the turn of the century demanded change, Julien. Get with it." Under the table there was a thump and Courtland cried out in pain, glancing around him with wide eyes and screaming, "Everybody stop hurting me today!"
"Stop deserving it," Antha murmured, switching her empty glass for Malakai's untouched glass of milk, "And stop yelling when you're right in Liesse's ear, you'll shatter her eardrums."
Courtland shrugged again, turning his head to grin at Liesse beside him, "Welcome to the circus."
"If that isn't the damned truth," Julien muttered under his breath, giving a lash of his paper to straighten it out.
"How did you sleep?" Malakai asked innocently, ignoring the side conversations as if they passed through one ear and out the other, a highly developed skill, glancing to Liesse and Cian over the cup of orange juice Jacob handed him and he lifted to his lips, "I know Amadeo was making a racket." The cat mewed in response, hopping into Antha's lap to be petted as she simultaneously downed her eggs and flipped ravenously through the sections of the paper Julien passed her, her eyes flickering rapidly, oblivious to the world. "And Courtland and Jack are only on the other side of the wall from you. But you both must have been exhausted."  

[Okimiyage]

The Calais clan sat in single file along one side of the table, in order of age. Pouring orange juice out of a tall, elegantly-blown glass carafe, the girl smiled across the table at her new family and their antics. Mornings had never been this (hectic Rynn's mind supplied, grimly) energetic at Llyr's Court. Liesse found herself rather enjoying the idea of a family breakfast; there was something grand about all of the members of the family gathered together around the table, like a little court with Antha at the head. She passed Rynn the carafe, and answered her new cousin. "Sleep? I was dead to the world. I hadn't realized how tiring--moving can be."
Well, it was an understatement to say that moving into a new body was a inestimable feat. But just as the thought began to translate into words, she had remembered her presupposed backstory. Right. She was a distant cousin, newly come home from boarding school. Malakai knew the truth, of course, but she wasn't sure how important it was to Antha that the rest of the family remained unaware.
They probably suspected, of course, if they knew anything about what had happened at Llyr's Court. Still, Liesse held her tongue.
"Who's Amadeo?" she inquired, her interest piqued by the composer's name. She knew there were still members of the family she had yet to meet.
Rynn got her attention with a gentle elbow-nudge. She turned to him resentfully; she was slightly irked that he had gotten up without her this morning, no matter how deeply she had slept. He pointed into the hall, where a long black tail was disappearing around a doorway. Liesse's delight was immediate and apparent. Clapping her hands together, she gave a little cry of elation and turned back to Malakai. "You have a cat," she breathed. Rynn laughed, a little, under his breath--he knew the impending storm when he saw it. Jumping out of her seat, Liesse dashed out of the room in pursuit.
Rynn glanced at her plate of breakfast delicacies. She hadn't even begin to touch it. "She's going to forget she has a stomach if she keeps this up," he complained aloud, to himself more-so than the rest of the table. Cian picked it up anyways, made chatty by the coffee. "She'll be back. Let her have her fun for a little bit, anyways--you know how she always wanted at kitten at home." The labyrinth had kept eating them. The last time, Liesse had wandered the maze, crying, for nearly two days in search of the piteous mewling from within the hedges. After that, Cian didn't bring any more strays back to Llyr's Court, and Liesse never asked for a cat again. Rynn made a little grimace at his eggs at the memory. "I'm sure there's a lot here that she's eager to experience." he murmured. Glancing up across the table at Dolly Jean--eager to turn the conversation over to anyone except for Cian--he added, "Thank you for letting us use your spare bed, by the way. I don't know how long the arrangement is intended to last, but in the meanwhile, I appreciate your kindness to Liesse. I think she'll be happy to finally have another girl around. There wasn't much in the way of--pastels in her old life." He attempted a smile--Rynn hadn't lost all in the way of his old charm, although it was much subdued. He was not the angel-faced boy that had arrived at the Talamasca eons ago--although he was not much older, something in him had made the transition to a man, as though the streak of white in his tousled hair was the hand of time on his temple. It wasn't difficult to imagine the appeal that the cousins had seen in him last night. Cian, drinking his coffee, hid the movement of his lips behind his cup as he whispered to Antha, "Lord, he's stiff as ever. Being around your cousins will be good for him, I think." Cian needed to get Rynn drunk, he decided, reflectively. He'd never seen his little brother under the influence of spirits, and there was no better opportunity than this house and its plethora of Bacchae.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

As Liesse went scrambling out of the room in pursuit of Amadeo, there was a brief murmur of laughter. "We have to get her a cat now, don't we?" Antha questioned, settled into the back of her seat, her legs pulled up into it with her.
"We may as well," Courtland agreed, making little egg men with toothpicks, "There's a shelter just off the quarter, if we're going anyways."
"I'm seeing a little ball of outrageously long white fur," Jack said dreamily, his eyes going unfocused, which suggested he had already taken something and it was beginning to hit him.
To her husband, and his unvoiced decision, Antha flashed a grin as wicked as ever, her eyes gleaming conspiratorially. It can---and absolutely shall---be done.
The rest of the family breakfast passed more or less uneventfully, Antha simultaneously downing eggs while pouring over the sections of the paper Julien passed down to her, her eyes flickering rapidly, Courtland hurling his egg men across the table at Pierce, who retaliated with biscuits, and then finally every fork he was in reaching distance of, until Julien threw his hands down on the table and threatened them with church and they settled down, Dolly Jean chattering incessantly about wedding plans and Vittorio nodding along, half listening. Lawrence appeared halfway through it all, his considerably pretty face marred with stress and lack of sleep, though his suit still would have held up against even the most rigorous inspections, babbling about the press and social services, who had lost track of the girl that had once inhabited Liesse's new body and wanted her back, Mayfair or not.
"They know we would pay to get her out of an orphanage," Antha murmured thoughtfully, downing the last of her fourth glass of milk, "Make a donation, a good one, and while they're preoccupied with that, push her paperwork through before they can get greedier." For once, Julien said nothing about the way she spent large sums of money, and she couldn't let that go. "And don't forget to send out the press releases, Mayfair Medical is opening in two weeks."
"Yes, about that," he murmured, taking the plate Jacob offered him, "We've had a few offers of investment from vario---"
"No," Antha said quickly, her eyes sharp, "No investors. This medical center is ours alone, I don't want businessmen coming in and trying to turn it into, well, a business. How else are we going to get any decent research done?"
Julien, rather than say anything as he was blue in the face arguing over it, abruptly left the room. "Investors only want research done that can make them their money back," Vittorio agreed, "Not research on genetics, on the relationship between the physical and the paranormal. And they certainly don't want people getting expensive treatments for their terminal illnesses without going bankrupt."
"It completely defeats the entire concept of Mayfair Medical," Antha said with a hint of finality, and the subject came to a halt.
"Aunt Vera has been calling nonstop from Paris," Lawrence continued seamlessly, "Demanding that we ship Pierce to her immediately."
"No," Antha repeated, just as rapidly, and the boy grinned wickedly with satisfaction, "Next?"
"There are five police reports on my desk at this very moment detailing Dorian's latest adventures. They want him turned in."
"Pay them and make the reports vanish."
"Already done," Lawrence replied, as if he had foreseen her answer, "Though it might not be a bad idea to bring him home for a while."
"I would love nothing more, Laurie. But, in case you haven't noticed over the years, Dorian comes home when he wants to and not a moment sooner. Lord knows where he is anyways."
"Tacked to some cheap mattress with a pretty girl in a seedy part of town," Courtland replied, in what had become their mantra for the boy, "And besides, I'd be afraid to have him and Pierce home at the same time."
"I'm done with business for today," Antha groaned, shaking her head and rising from the table, "You know how this is all done, Laurie, you take care of it. And if social services adds Rynn to their list with Liesse---"
"They have."
"Shut them up. Whatever it takes. I doubt they want him much, anyways."
The boy nodded, his cousins rising all around him, and made off with his paperwork. "We're going shopping!" Belle squealed, running down the hallway in her excitement, "We're getting a new kitty!"
"Liesse's kitty!" Antha corrected her before it turned into trouble, taking her own up in her arms and scratching his ears, his entire body thrumming as he purred, "Amadeo is excited, too."
It took twenty minutes for the Mayfair cousins to reassemble in the atrium, dressed and ready to go. Jack, forever the little punk boy from some rundown bar, Courtland in his skintight ripped jeans and slightly feminine coat, his eyes circled thickly with messy eyeliner, Malakai dressed like any other boy they might find out for a day of shopping with his family, Dolly Jean in her light, modest dress of pink cotton, her silver hair tied up with a white bow, and Antha in another suspiciously modern sundress, a maddeningly short length of ruffled navy blue fabric printed with red roses over layers of taffeta and mesh acting as petticoats, the bodice tight, fitted to her form, the neckline fashionably low, the sleeves nothing but little straps.
"Now I see it," Pierce murmured, and before Antha could ask what 'it' was, she realized his gaze was intently upon her chest, "Your stomach may not have grown enough to tell, but your chest has."
"I will kill you," Antha promised vicously, her cherry red painted lips curling into a deceptively pleasant smile, and that was what finally broke his gaze. Belle, who did not understand what was going on, tugged questioningly on Malakai's hand but he patted her head and waved the question away. "Come on if you're coming, Rynn!" Courtland called, seizing Liesse's arm and making off with her to the town car which had been bought with the idea of carrying clusters of the Mayfairs around and therefore was not so cramped, though between Courtland and Pierce the ride was rowdy.
If the Calais children were not prepared for a day with the Mayfair children out in the wild...well, stronger people than them had been driven to wit's end for less. Osiris City had always been for them nothing but a giant playground, and without proper adult supervision, there was nothing anyone could do about it. Antha managed to keep them from causing any severe damage---Courtland had tried to take advantage of a worker's lunch break and try his hand at operating a crane putting together a new building, and Jack had thought it only fair to release the lizards at the pet store, and then the snakes, and Pierce had made a habit of throwing Malakai quite forcefully into any nearby pretty girl, mortifying the poor boy and enraging sweet little Belle---but for the most part, she was more truly one of them out of the house, where it was not her things they were destroying, only the family reputation, which had already shifted to accommodate their behavior anyways. Catching the eye of a handsome young man across the street, who was glaring at them like any jilted boy, Courtland had murmured a quick, "Which of us slept with him?" When no one could recall, it was Antha who darted across the street, pushing the heart-shaped sunglasses, candy apple red plastic to match the shade of her lips, back into the tumbling curls of her hair and smiling at him, her lips moving mesmerizingly as she spoke. The boys watched for a few moments, amused, the strange man seeming to thaw from his previous iciness as they conversed, even seeming to flirt. After a few minutes of this, he handed a slip of paper over to Antha, beaming seductively, and as Antha dashed back across the street in her high heels, Jack was holding Courtland back from running after him, entranced.
"It was both of us," Antha informed Courtland, giving a little shrug as her fingers ripped the phone number in her hands in half and let the pieces flutter into the trash, sliding her glasses back over her eyes. As they moved on, Courtland whined to lose sight of the pretty boy, begging to be released so he could have another go at him. "This is why we don't trust men," Antha whispered to Belle as they walked, gesturing to Courtland, "They're terrible creatures."
"You forgot you slept with him, too," Pierce purred, bringing an arm around her shoulders as he slid on his own aviator sunglasses.
"Yes, but that's an entirely different story," Antha protested lightly, her arm coming around his waist as they fell into step with one another. Pierce grinned wickedly, shaking his head, and planted a kiss on her pale cheek.
Often, it was even Antha who found herself the recipient of a lecture during the trip. Mostly it was when Courtland, browsing through one of the stores, caught sight of Antha leaning seductively against the counter, her eyes gleaming and an alluring smile to those lips as she chatted up the particularly pretty girl behind the counter, who reacted with a little shock, a little confusion, and an abundance of begrudging intrigue, her cheeks flushed and hands nervously occupying themselves. "Evie, no," Courtland chided her firmly, and Antha retreated as if she hadn't even realized what she was doing. It wasn't the last similar incident, and these paled in comparison to the number of times she was approached, and Pierce at last took to following her around, pretending to be her boyfriend, which if it did not stop her from being hit on, it at least made the numbers dwindle.
Belle was watching all the while, taking note of the way Antha moved, the expressions of her face, how she interacted with these boys, and at length Courtland was crouched down beside her, whispering in her ear, "This is what we call aunt Antha's Lolita persona. Take note of the heart-shaped sunglasses and the lollipop. I'm not going to say it's a beautiful thing to behold, because your father would kill me if I did, but everyone falls for it."
"Stop teaching that!" Jack interrupted, smacking his cousin in the back of the head as Malakai swooped in and retrieved Belle, covering her ears as he glared at Courtland.
"What did I tell you all about not hurting me anymore today?!" he yelled back, clutching the back of his head.
The last stop was the pet store, where after Liesse had gotten her kitten, Antha was left with no choice but to get one for Belle, just to make her stop sniffling so heart-wrenchingly, and as previously mentioned, Jack attempted to set the majority of the reptiles free, running out the door screaming, "Be free, my scaly friends, be free!" Pierce shut the door after him, barring escape for the critters, and Antha slipped the cashier a few large bills to make up for it before they took their leave.
At the end of it all, they had a trunk bursting with bags of clothing, because the Mayfairs did not have a thrifty bone in their bodies, two small kittens, and a garden snake wrapped around Jack's arm to keep him from trying to set the rest of the reptiles free again when he realized his plans had been foiled. "I'll call you Rex," he announced cheerfully, lovingly stroking the little green creature's head.
"God help you if that thing slithers into Julien's bed," Antha murmured, twirling her lollipop between her lips, and it took Malakai stomping on all of their feet to take the boys' longing eyes off of his little sister.
When everything had been carted into the house, Antha paused only briefly to whisper in Rynn's ear, "Rest up, mon ami. Your lessons begin after dark." And she kissed his cheek just beside his ear, leaving a print of that glossy red lipstick, before running up the stairs in peels of laughter.
"Now that feels like the Antha I know," Courtland murmured, grinning as he watched her bounce up the stairs, his eyes on the sway of her short skirt, "She's been so damned moody lately, all serious and boring." His eyes cut at Rynn. "I blame you. She was too busy trying to deal with you to do anything else."
"And Sleet before that," Jack reminded him, "And Julien even before that, screaming about how she needed to reproduce, and fast. She's been under a lot of pressure lately."
"It's good to see her acting like herself," Pierce sighed, taking a seat on the stairs and stretching out.
"That's really why you decided to stay, isn't it?" Malakai murmured in revelation, watching him, "You wanted to spend the last couple of months with her before..."
"I was the first of you bastards to fall completely, madly in love with her," he reminded them sharply, pointing in their general direction, "Almost as soon as Nicolae did. Like hell I was going to stay in Paris while death was coming for her."
Courtland, his ears plugged against the dreaded word, ran off yelling, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
Upstairs meanwhile, Antha was bursting into Julien's study, not even bothering to knock. "Studying like a good boy?" she purred, kicking the door closed and removing her sunglasses, tossing them on the little table beside the door, "I don't know why Julien's making you study this anyways. Suzanne Mayfair accidentally drank Sleet's blood when he abducted her, went stark, raving mad, was raped by an aristocrat, had Deborah, and after that everyone started sleeping with their immediate family. Who cares about the details?" As she spoke, Antha went across the room to the desk, slamming the great tome in front of Cian shut and pushing it aside so that she could hop up in it's place. "I think it's all a ploy," she murmured, taking his face in her hands and leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, "He just wants to shut you up in here until your brain short circuits, or you just flat out go mad. He is a conniving b*****d like that. Meanwhile, Pierce decided to 'properly' stock the bar today, and we're going to get your brother drunk tonight if it's the last thing we ever do. It will do him some good. Or, at the very least, it's bound to be amusing as all hell."  

[Okimiyage]

As soon as Cian heard the door slam, he startled, jerked upright, and tried to pretend he hadn't been napping on the enormous open book in front of him. Julien would kill him. Luckily, it was only Antha--'only', as if she were any less of an event. He brightened up when he saw her. The early rise this morning had taken more of a toll than he had expected; he'd done his best to hold out from falling asleep for as long as he could, but really, he could only do so much when he was faced with all of these genealogical studies.

"You're home," he said, pleased, and not even bothering to hide the yawn and stretch that heralded his rising. "Finally. I thought you were going to spend the entire day out there." Coming around the side of the desk, he embraced Antha, crushing her tulle petticoats under his weight. Burying his face in her curls, breathing in her perfume, he murmured. "The house doesn't feel right when you're not here, it's too damn quiet.." A small pause, and then he admitted, "I guess that's a way of saying, 'I missed you'. Although your family tree--thicket, rather--is pretty entertaining to dissect, I'll admit. One day you'll have to introduce me to all the ghosts so I can put faces to some of these names. Anyways, how'd you do out there? Break the bank?"

Just then, Liesse came into the room, with an earnest whisper: "Cian, look." The girl was moving very slowly, which was unusual only until Cian realized what she was holding. Cradled in her arms, blue eyes half-lidded and drowsy, was nestled a small bundle of stark white fur. They'd gotten her a kitten. Cian grinned at the sight, exchanging looks with Antha--Nice bribe. She'll be yours for eternity.--and then crouched down as his sister approached to look at her new pet. There was already a pink ribbon tied around that cat's neck. "What's the name? Is it a girl or a--" "Boy," Liesse intercepted proudly. "And his name is Bartholomew. He has a sister, too--Rynn's got her downstairs."
Cian had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "'Bartholomew. I like it." Rubbing his fingertips around the tiny pink triangle of the kitten's ear, he added, "Somehow that's difficult to imagine, Rynn with cats." He guessed it shouldn't have been--witches and cats went together like bread and butter. "There was a whole litter," said Liesse, enthusiastically. She'd wanted to take all the ones that were left. Rynn, practical as ever, had imagined house-training an entire platoon of kittens and limited her emphatically to two. "They were practically giving them away." she added, piteously, and looked down at her own. Little mother already, thought Cian, ruefully, watching her cradle the cat. He couldn't imagine Liesse ever having children, although he'd be the first to admit that she had the temperament for it. "I bet you wanted all of them, and the mother-cat, too." He ruffled her hair affectionately, and moved past her. "Come on," he said, to the girls. "I'm sick of studying, I've been holed up here all day." He couldn't imagine how vampires stood it. "Warn Rynn, I and all the cousins are going to bother the s**t out of him, tonight. I've got a lot of energy suddenly."
"Wait, Cian!"
Liesse hurried after her brother, the protest too late to stop him on the stairs.

Below, in the parlor, Rynn sat having the leg of his pants enthusiastically kneaded by the youngest member of the household. He wasn't paying the kitchen much attention, listening to the laughter from the kitchen instead, which was perhaps why the white cat seemed enamored of him (and determined to coat him in her hair by the end of the day). Finally she yawned, turned around in a circle, and settled into his lap.

A little part of Rynn melted, but he would never admit it. At least not while the cousins were around, although they seemed fairly occupied with crowing over their new purchases. Liesse had been impatient throughout that part of the expedition, although she would have ordinarily found dress shopping an adventure in and of itself. Today, with her mind on the kittens, he'd practically had to drag her into the fitting room. Still, they'd made out with a queen's haul; bags of organdy, clouds of chiffon and lace, boxes full of hats and hairbows and oddments, all was piled now in a heap on the bed in Dolly-Jean's room. Rynn absently let his hand wander over and around the kitten's head, scratching under her jaw so she purred like a car motor. Being with the Mayfairs was going to be good for Liesse, he knew. There was so much here that he'd never been able to give her. He just wasn't sure if it was going to be as good for him.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

As Cian left the room, Antha tried not to make a face. Plans, dashed. Well, it wasn't like she wasn't used to it, in this house. More often than not, it was someone walking in on her halfway through, and with her cousins, that was something of an ordeal. ("Let me join!" "Get the ******** out." "Come on, Nikki, I want to play! Evie?" "Courtland, I will kill you." "Pleeeease?" "GET OUT!"
As she stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, Pierce wandered by, slouching against the wall beside her, hands barely shoved into his tight pockets. "We could help each other out," he purred suggestively, gazing off towards the stairs, listening to the clamor in the parlor below, "It's been a long, loooong time, Evie."
"It has, hasn't it?" she murmured, tapping a finger beneath his chin, "But I think I'll pass."
Pierce grinned devilishly, murmuring with amusement, "That physically hurt you to say, didn't it?"
"You're not worth the trouble, darling," she responded simply, dodging the question.
Rolling his eyes, he paused only for a moment before he whispered, confidentially, "I could help you with the brother."
Antha gave a silent laugh, leaning her head against the doorframe and cutting her eyes at her cousin. "Who ever said I wanted him?"
He laughed aloud, if quietly, shaking his head. "It's written all over your face. Maybe you can hide it from the rest of them, sweet Malakai and drug addled Courtland and Jack, the Calais children who don't actually know you, don't know the varying gleams in your eyes and every shift of your face, but I know you, Antha. Maybe you really do love Cian, truly, but his brother is more your type anyways. He frustrates you like Nicolae used to frustrate you, and you've never been in love with someone like you were with Nikki."
"I always did have a masochistic streak," she murmured in agreement, chuckling lightly, "But that doesn't mean I want anything to do with Rynn."
Pierce only grinned. "You can't lie to me, Evie," he whispered, "Cian isn't enough to satisfy your fickle heart, no one ever has been since Nicolae."
"Until I grew up enough to realize that we are legally bound, that I could never leave my family, this city, could never vanish into the world with him," she murmured back coldly, "Until he betrayed me, hurt me, ruined me."
"You are a glutton for punishment," he laughed lightly, and when she was silent he inched closer, pulling an arm around her waist. "No one would ever guess how truly unlucky in love you really are," he murmured with a hint of sympathetic amusement, "Given your various conquests. You always fall hardest for the ones you can never really have---your brother, your husband's brother..."
"Like I said---"
"And like I said, Evie, you can't lie to me."

In the parlor, it had taken Dolly Jean all of five minutes to drag out great sheaths of paper and a handful of markers, situating herself in the middle of the floor to draw out childish scribbles of the garden, where she wanted to set up the ceremony. Courtland and Jack were drinking, of course, and Armand was seated beside the window with his laptop, chain smoking and clacking away at his keyboard. Belle and Victoria were playing with their dollhouse, dragging Malakai down to the floor to play the prince, and Vittorio was pacing the dining room, yelling about construction on the hospital.
A little shriek of surprise sounded upstairs, the heavy clatter of feet on the stairs, and just when Courtland had gotten up to investigate, Pierce bursted in with Antha tossed over his shoulder, kicking her feet. "Who's giving up their room?" he demanded cheerfully, amid Antha's whined protests before he finally tossed her down to the couch, squarely in Rynn's lap, making sure to shoo the kitten away first.
"You b*****d," she hissed, "If you think that is going to change my mind---"
"Antha won't let me stay because there's no room," Pierce informed Courtland, who gaped back in horror.
"There isn't," she said, yet again, "Even with Dolly Jean moving into Vittorio's room, Rynn and Liesse will be taking the second floor bedroom."
"I'll room with Malakai, then."
"Over my dead body," the boy murmured, the doll clutched in his hand following after Belle's, as per her instructions.
"I can talk to Lionel," Antha sighed at length, "See if he'll take Eleanor in. God knows she hates it here anyways. Until then, you can continue to stay with Jack and Courtland."
"We only use one bed anyways," Courtland purred, pulling an arm around Jack's shoulders.
"We'll figure it out from there. Just stop yelling about it." As she spoke, Courtland took a firm hold of the girl, lifting her out of Rynn's lap and closing her up in his arms, glaring in turn between Rynn and Pierce. Pierce's eyes gleamed at Antha, wickedly, as she turned her head and smoothed out her skirts, even restrained by Courtland's tight hold of her torso.
"I'm not letting you go by the way," the boy added then, still glaring at Pierce, "It's your punishment for ripping up that number earlier."
"He gave it to me, not you," she reminded him, turning her head to stick out her tongue at him, "Although, I do happen to remember it. I suppose if you don't let me go, I can't give it to you."
His arms fell abruptly, and with a little smirk Antha took one of Dolly Jean's sheets of paper, scribbling down a number. It was several minutes later, after Courtland had vanished and the cousins were looking strangely at her, the girl herself making a small gesture as if to say 'wait for it', that his voice called out angrily, "Really, Antha? Aunt Suzette's number?"
Antha fell into peels of laughter, and her cousins with her, as Courtland ran back into the parlor, the phone in his hand as he tried his best to make polite conversation with the old woman. Antha ran, taking refuge behind the couch, and when Courtland could take the taunting, triumphant look on her face no longer he ran that last bit forward that unplugged the phone, pausing only long enough to look at it and finally throw it down on the ground, running after her as she darted and dodged through the room, laughing hysterically. "You should have known better," she teased, and he jumped clear over the couch to get to her, taking the corner too fast as it came to a chase so that a table wobbled and fell in his wake, sending Belle and VIctoria out of the room screaming.
The cousins were looking at each other, debating silently as to whether or not they should follow after them as the backdoor slammed shut twice, but when there was a little scream and a splash from the backyard they were all up and running outside to come upon Antha doubled over in laughter, Courtland bobbing in the pool, his face set in an angry pout.
"Don't look so upset," she gasped finally, watching him take hold of the edge of the pool and lift himself out only to suddenly have his hand knot in her skirts halfway up, yanking her down into the water with him, and after that there was only splashing, screaming and yelping and threats.
Not to be left out, Jack took a step back and made a great leap into the pool, and after him went Pierce, then Armand, and then just because it seemed the thing to do, Malakai via a quick shove from Vittorio from behind. On the porch, Julien was shaking his head, turning and returning inside as Jacob rushed out with a great number of towels folded in his arms.

Darkness came shortly before seven that afternoon, and Antha was ready for it. Her eyes had watched the french windows covertly for some time as she sat curled on the loveseat beside them, her hair and clothes dried, her make-up fixed, Pierce's head propped against her folded legs as he napped, preparing for the long night (Antha had ordered him to do whatever was necessary to get Rynn drunk that night, and without a single question as to her motives he had agreed). Setting her book aside and easing out from under Pierce, she made her way across the parlor, her cousins hardly paying attention, and as if it were the most natural thing in the world, took a firm hold of Rynn's arm, dragging him with her up the stairs and into the attic.
"We had a deal, if you will recall," she murmured, releasing him to go to that old door in the back of the room, leaning her head against the creaking old wood. "I don't expect you to trust me," she continued after a few moments, that dagger appearing in her hands like a parlor trick as ever, "And I don't trust you." When the door opened and she had stepped inside, breathing the stale, dusty air, her figure passing through those few slivers of pale moonlight escaping the boards on the window, the blade came swiftly across her palm to leave a bright red streak, her blood dripping slowly on the creaking floorboards. "So the only way to do this is to swear an oath. I'll swear through my blood that I will not harm you or Liesse, that I will not do anything to lead to your harm, and you swear that you will not harm me or my family, never do anything to lead to our harm. Otherwise, we will each always be waiting for the other to strike another blow and we need to be able to operate without that paranoia, or else this will never work." The dagger turned in her hand, the steel blade held between her fingers and the hilt out towards Rynn. "Deal?"  

[Okimiyage]

The cousins had taken their duties very seriously. Admittedly, by their standards, it had been almost laughably easy to coax Rynn into a state of inebriation. A few glasses of spiked juice, and the boy's slight frame was already swaying. He was an energetic drunk, though; the alcohol put a light in his eyes and made the words on his lips flow more easily. When Antha came for him, just as twilight had dimmed the sky, he was sitting on the couch deep in conversation with Malakai, Liesse in-between them. Her long hair, still damp from the pool, was slung over Rynn's lap, and he was braiding it as he spoke to Malakai. "--a little like house spirits, I've always thought, but magnified by every generation. Obviously it's troublesome, because the anchoring process is much more involved for a centuries--old--hey!--"
Liesse sat up as Rynn was tugged out from underneath her and away. She started to follow, but an open palm from Rynn made her stop, and settle back down on the couch. Fretfully, she began tugging at the loose ends of her braid.
"You know, I don't think I've ever seen my brother drunk before," she admitted to Malakai. She didn't like to say how that worried her, but she didn't have to put it into words to express it--it was evident in every ounce of her person, from the tense hunch of her shoulders to the notch in her furrowed brow. Cian was always the one who had turned up wasted--'just to spite you'--and no matter how much he had urged his brother to make use of the family's vintages, it had only made Rynn more determined not to give in. It felt funny. On the other end of the red thread, where she could feel the insistent connection to Rynn's mind, his thoughts had become blurred and disorderly. It was like trying to hold onto a cloud with a leash. With a sigh, she sat back and flicked the tail of her braid over her shoulder. "If he's not back in fifteen minutes, I guess I'll worry then." With a smile at Malakai, she began to finish the braid herself. "You'll come with me to find him, right?"

She needn't have worried at all, Rynn thought--because it was impossible to hide one twin's concern from the other, and because as soon as the knife appeared in Antha's hand, he had thought, Ah, I know what this is.

"Do you ever worry," he asked, as they crossed the threshold together, "that one day you will make a blood pact that conflicts with a prior oath you have sworn in the past? I imagine it would kill you in an incredibly messy and unpleasant way. Like B-grade horror movies from the eighties unpleasant, all hoses of blood and organsh--organs popping out." His words almost slurred, but he at least had the presence of mind to catch his mistake. When he extended his hand to take the knife from Antha, he opened a palm that was criss-crossed with scar tissue, many times over. Some were red, still healing, still puffy, they were so fresh--others were white and flattened and must have taken years to recede into the skin. "I've done this s**t way too much." he muttered, under his breath. Rynn held the knife very carelessly, as though the blade was nothing but a stage-blade that would recede into its own handle upon impact. Of course it did not, but he did not seem to register the pain when the metal bit into his palm--he had taught himself well, the pain did not matter--if anything, he gave out a little sigh, that of satisfaction, and crooned the words that followed aloud like a song. There was something odd in his voice, a hollowness, an echo of a thousand voices not quite on the edge of hearing, as he spoke.

"Rynn Calais swears this, that it may be held fast by blood and bone, to you now, to any of your kin, to any child you may bear in the future:
no action will I take with the intent of bringing harm to your house, or to any who fall under its protection. As long as my body draws breath, I will align myself to your cause. I will call our grievances forgotten. To the grave, I take this oath."

The split of flesh in his palm was dripping bright red onto the floorboards, the cuff of his shirt already stained; where Antha's blood had pooled, the droplets splashed and mingled with one another. He was bleeding much more savagely than usual--the alcohol was responsible for thinning his blood, and the cut from the knife had been deep. "I'm starting to get too old for this," he murmured. He was sick of fighting. Most people didn't have as much excitement in all their lives as Rynn had in the past two decades. He was beginning to grow weary of seeing his blood leave his body.

Vikteren, in the meantime, approached the house. He had awoken as soon as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, soon enough to feel the sting of ebbing daylight when he left the house. He took the more populated road into the city, to Mayfair Manor. He could feel people around him, their eyes skipping over him like a scratch on a CD. He probably looked like a derelict or a drug addict; all long, spider-thin limbs, his shirt grey with Satis House's dust. That was fine--that was good. The fewer folk that noticed him, the less chance of conflict. It was difficult to avoid imagining that any one of these passer-bys could be a watchdog for the enemies of the Mayfairs, Several times, Vikteren had to resist the urge to bare his fangs at staring adolescents, out for a night on the town and already primed for the bars.

When he at last reached the manor, he could tell by the sound of laughter that the cousins had found something worth celebrating over. The Calais boy's arrival, no doubt--it must be something exciting to have new members of the family to gloss over and tease and corrupt utterly. He went around the side of the house, entering through the patio rather than the front door. Vikteren had never cared for front doors. There was something in him that had developed, after many centuries, a reticent assassin's preference for unremarkable entrances. The front door called too much attention to a person's arrival. The vampire much preferred to reveal his presence rather than announce it. Poking his head into the kitchen, he caught sight of one of the cousins, his back turned, mixing a drink at the counter, and coughed to get his attention. "May I come inside? I'm looking for Antha."