Mai-Ly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
formidable) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sweethymns2015-06-09 01:01 pm
formidable) wrote in sweethymns2015-06-09 01:01 pm
Entry tags:
Mι∂ηιgнт ιη Ƥαяιѕ
 Private AU/PSL RP, set anywhere from 1879 alternate history France to 21st century North America. A tale of two brothers and the witch and her golem who gets entangled in their lives. Urban fantasy, steampunk, magic, guns, and coffee collide. ➢ "La Caravane". |
❇ １８７９ ❇
In any case... I'll think about going out there soon. Not now, but soon. Does that sound fair?
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Soon is better than never! Promises are worth their weight in gold, so...
[ His lips curl up, flashing teeth. ]
...Promise?
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So with a smile she motions him to come over to the counter because she's going to seal it in the best way she knows how. She's sticking out her right pinkie.]
Pinkie promise. That way, I can't break it.
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❇ ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴ ＧＲＩＮＤ ❇
[The return to the Midnight Grind is peaceful and without incident. When Oren opens the doors for Iona and the two returning guests, the cafe lights up as if giving its greetings to the owner. Iona collapses on a nearby sofa seat while Oren pushes a table towards her along with two seats. He gestures to the Aubert brothers with the poise and composure of an practiced servant.]
Take a seat. Will return with refreshments.
Door will be too difficult to find. No fear.
[And with that, Oren disappears into the back kitchen, leaving Iona with the two brothers.]
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While Gus sulks for a bit, Claude hangs his jacket on the nearest coatrack, adjusts the collar of his shirt, and settles into a chair. ]
When I told my brother to enjoy himself [ he says, with just a hint of edge to his tone ], I didn't mean for him to enjoy himself so much.
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[Iona straightens up her back, with her opposite hand clutching her crystal arm. It retains its normal appearance, but to her, it always feels heavy causing a slight imbalance in her physical structure.
She glances at Claude and then at Gus, clearing her throat before she speaks up.]
So... Where should I start? I could start with an apology if that's what we want to get out of the way here.
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❇ ＬＡ ❇
As for Oren, he would usually spend his time inspecting the Grind, cleaning the apartment, or just sitting and waiting for Iona to call him, or to come home. But today, there are guests and Oren needs to provide for immediate needs, like hunger. Now what will he make...??
... He might have gone overboard. He's not entirely sure of the Aubert's tastes though (or at least Claude's; Gus's taste could use some...), so might as well have variety to greet them in the morning.
All of this is accompanied by orange juice that's freshly squeezed and poured into chilled glasses. Oren's a goddamn professional.]
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Claude pulls up a chair, settles down and watches Gus take all the sweet variations of toast. ]
Good morning, Oren. Has Miss Iona gone to her university already?
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Leaves early. Needs to beat traffic. Could use magic, but would raise suspicion.
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❇ ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ ❇
The crystallization had slowed down in recent years since her body and magic had been slowly adapting to the foreign substance that had helped her survive and grow this unique limb. Berna, would want to check up on it soon, fearing her granddaughter would become too much of a rock and not enough of a human being. (This was mentioned jokingly, but Iona knows that with every joke, Berna has a serious intent behind it for better or for worse.)
Right now though? The midnight munchies have struck once again. Oren should be inspecting the cafe right now and the brothers are probably sleeping, ready to leave the 21st century and back to alternate 1879 France...
Iona walks out to the kitchen without her glamor, yawning and...]
... Can't sleep?
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—this, it's flooring. He can hardly sleep, his brain full of ideas and all the details he hasn't quite come to terms with. He'd never call his issues trite, but they seem smaller in context— something he knows is unfair to all the people caught in it, caught in things they don't care for.
He's in the kitchen, playing with the faucets and running water over his hands, when Iona appears. He looks...appropriately sheepish, but not for long. ]
I'm a night owl. You?
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[She replies lightly, while the crystals on her arm glow in the darkness. Iona turns on low lights of the kitchen so she can grab two bottles of homemade yogurt and the box of mixed berries from the fridge. (Oren is going to get grumpy, but at least she's choosing something vaguely healthy to snack on. It was either this or cheesy garlic bread).]
Wanna join me? You'll be returning soon so we can end our date on the roof.
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❇ ＤＥＵＸ ❇
[Iona straightens herself out and taps her bubble to reinforce it and to adjust its size to accommodate two people instead.]
Your turn Claude! Time to drop you off safely too!
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Very good. I don't suppose I owe you a debt, now?
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[That's her price and she's sticking with it.]
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❇ ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴ ＧＲＩＮＤ ii ❇
This was their second meeting. The first time, Iona Oakes was a small girl, buried into the arms of her brother, Solomon Grey Oakes as he and other warlock agents arrived at their house. After all, it was their job to fill in where the human police should not be involved. Hei, new to the force, could only feel pity for the siblings who had lost too much, much too early on.
But the girl he sees right now is different. She picks herself from the ground while the Crystalline Witch's golem steps aside. An 18 year old Iona smiles at the warlock.
"Just came here to check up on me?"
"Ah...! Um, yes. But I'm also here to..."
"Oh, yeah! Damn, accreditation's coming up so quick already?" Iona sighs, but she doesn't look deterred. The warlock can't help, but feel some faint admiration for that.
"I see I don't have much to worry about. You've been working hard for the past two years."
"Sure have! I had to cram a lot, but I'll be able to pass."
Two years of hard training. Two years of having to give up most of her youth after that incident. Hei's not sure what makes him say so, but he speaks up with earnestness he hadn't had in several years ever since he stopped aging.
"If you have any questions... I mean, if you ever need any help before or after you're done with your examination, please. You may always contact me."
... Yeah. He said that, didn't he? It's probably why Hei, 45 year old warlock, found himself manning the counter of the Midnight Grind while Iona, in her own words, had to master an all-nighter in the art studio in order to get that one painting assignment done. Thankfully, it's not the first time she's roped him into taking her place so he knew his way around and how the door worked (although the first time, he had done so because his superiors were skeptical of her establishment in the first place and it didn't help that he did have to help her with other factors BECAUSE of that door letting in troublesome people...)
What's a witch doing in college anyways? AND running a magical cafe to boot??
In Hei's opinion, Iona seemed to enjoy TOO much work or at least it seemed that way. But even when he tried to protest, the warlock faltered in the face of her insistent cheerfulness. Oh well. At least most nights at the Grind were more peaceful than not and he got treated to a full meal in the end (Hei and Oren, was another thing entirely, uncomfortably enough).
So, instead of the usual curly and wavy hair of Iona, incoming customers are met with a broad shouldered man with shaggy black hair, sporting a pair of glasses at the counter. He looks up to greet them with a rather shy...]
Ah! Welcome...!!
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What he has are...well. A tower of macarons, an actual full-blown dress, a handmade toy shaped like the Moulin Rouge with a real! moving! windmill!, and more trinkets. ]
Iona! You should've woken me up that day, but I'm here! I'm back!
[ He barges in, forgetting that there may be other customers here... please notice him... ]
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❇ 1879 ii ❇
Iona has yet to enter the Grind herself so she told Oren to greet Gus once he arrives instead. Waiting's no real task, so he stands there, silently staring at the door.]
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For once, he seems...composed. Put-together in a way that vaguely resembles his status as a young man of good standing, of someone with a proper lineage. It's not exactly the 'Gus' that people can relate to, the one that isn't above being stupid for the sake of levity, but the exuberance is still there, under all the layers and pomp. ]
—Oren! Wow, you look different.
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❇ 1879 iii ❇
And you're looking just like my type
Let's go for it just for tonight...
C'mon, c'mon, c'mooon... ♥
[Who else, but Iona, could be singing in such an energetic manner after a long ball? She's mostly singing to herself of course, while Oren walks right beside her in complete and total silence, a large contrast of how he acted during the party.
Iona glances at the two brothers behind her, smiling happily. And still speaking French.]
I really can't thank you enough! I had a great time.
[Yes, arguing with Claude apparently contributes to the experience. She was also able to chat with other party goers and and had one or two other dance partners before Oren intervened. Needless to say, Oren has saddened half of the crowd because he had to leave with her.]
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His brother is faring better; a spring in his step and his center of balance lightly skewed thanks to the effects of the alcohol. He hasn't taken his wobbliness as a chance to hold Iona's hand, but Claude expects that he might get there soon. Predictable. ]
That makes two out of four.
[ Don't be snide, Claude... Somehow he's included Oren in 'Team Wet Blanket', even though Oren was perfectly charming for the whole night.
It might be because of his general inattentiveness to anything but his mildly sour mood, perhaps, that Claude doesn't catch the looming figures that'd left the party a few beats after they did; too eager to be out of the bustle of skirts and festivities to notice a few pairs of eyes that'd locked themselves on the retreating party.
They're quiet, for now. Waiting for the group to move into the quiet side-street that's coming up around the corner, tucked away from prying eyes. ]
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❇ ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴ ＧＲＩＮＤ iii ❇
Oren and young Solomon Grey Oakes are one of the few people who could discern the more hidden moods of Iona Jacqueline Oakes. Of course, she was always optimistic regardless of how she truly felt, but the former saw how she always glanced at the doorway every time they opened up the cafe and the latter was noticing that she had been texting him a lot more out of boredom and telling him to visit her more often. And when Solomon managed to find the time in his schedule to go to the Grind (he was still in the middle of a lengthy house renovation project), his baby sister would then burst open, spilling out the contents of her worries and concerns.
"Oh god Sully, what if I really screwed things up for them?!"
"Jackie—"
"I mean, they're probably lying low. I mean, they'd have to, it'd look suspicious if they always headed towards the same alleyway and those shady guys are probably stalking them to see where they're headed—"
"Jackie—"
"—He's been thrown into the river more than once. What if it's permanent?! There's no real way to contact them and I'll have to keep waiting and waiting and by the time that happens, they'll be 50 and—"
"JACKIE."
"..."
"... Wanna watch a new movie together?"
"... Thanks Sully."
He hadn't been the best big brother in the past, but at least he knew he was probably doing something right in the present if she was confiding in him again.
A tall dark man with a light fuzz of beard around his face and long dreadlocks that reach down to his shoulders, studies the new wooden table and bench seats that is situated on the far side of the cafe, a beautiful piece, refurbished from scraps of wood, pieced together and finished with a mahogany stain so that it could proudly be part of the Midnight Grind.
He takes a seat on a bench and looks up at Oren who gives his approval with a nod and a cup of hot coffee for the man.]
"Better for study groups."
[Solomon chuckles.]
Glad to hear it. That way you and Jackie won't have to rearrange furniture all the time.
[He takes the coffee breathing in the aroma with satisfaction.]
This should keep her happy for now, you think?
"Distraction. Your work good. Loves anyway."
Well, even I can't keep her distracted forever...
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Bearing the brunt of the abuse was Claude, of course— what could reasonably be blamed on the half-brother-turned-impromptu-guardian would inevitably be blamed on him, and a majority of the rumors (and the ensuing injuries) were attributed to his carelessness. Some even questioned his loyalty, citing his tenuous familial ties as a reason for him to stir trouble, but his flippant willingness to allow whatever punishment to befall him was what caused his temporary house arrest as opposed to something more drastic. That would account for Claude's momentary disappearance.
Gus, on the other hand, suffered something more stifling: where Claude doesn't mind solitary confinement, Gus finds surveillance cloying. Being guarded day and night is his reason for not showing up, and as the weeks passed and no immediate danger presented itself, the number of people constantly watching him dwindled, dwindled...
...until he found himself being able to speak without being spoken to in return, found himself being able to walk without being asked where he was going.
So.
Obviously, this results in him looking for a door; a very familiar door, one that leads to a place he'd been itching to go for days, weeks, months. He runs all over town looking for it, stumbles into more than a few wrong houses along the way, before he trips headfirst into the entrance of the Midnight Grind.
Momentum pitches him forward, has him stumble on nice leather shoes and skid, skid, skid...
...into a faceplant on one of the nice rugs. ]
—Table for one...
[ He says, through a mouthful of fabric. ]
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❇ ＭＩＤＮＩＧＨＴ ＧＲＩＮＤ iv ❇
Monts lays rather indolently on the sofa seat of the cafe, her white work blouse only partially buttoned, still wearing her torn up jeans, and one of her bare feet dangling off to the side.
Iona, her friend, and the person she owes the most to, is out and about on an errand for someone else. And when Iona isn't in and accompanied by Oren, she takes over the cafe along with the golem, taking orders, making and serving drinks, and generally being the other face of the establishment with about a equal popularity as Iona. The difference being, when it's the place's empty sort of day, instead of being a peaceful daydreamer like the witch, Monts has an inner restlessness against the inactivity. It makes her feel lazier, sure, but that's also a cause for concern. When she's alone, she's also prone to... Well.
She rubs the back of her neck where the black flower mark resides, sighing tiredly. There's no immediate danger. And Oren was still in the kitchen...]
Ugggghhh. I'm so bored.
[Oh yeah, that's what it's called isn't it]
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So there's barely any sense of reservation as he slams himself inside the entrance of the cafe, closes the door behind him and presses his back against it as if anyone trailing him could find their way in here. They can't, he knows that, but still. It doesn't hurt to be careful.
Steadying his breathing, he closes his eyes and inhales, exhales, before he laughs and slumps down onto the floor with the wood of the front door still pressed against his back. ]
Long day...
[ He doesn't even realize it's not Iona he's talking to, the poor nerd. ]
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