Creature City

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Dominic folded his own wings tightly, clearing his throat. "Chief says the rumor of a kid in the city's been confirmed, and he wants in on the chase."
Roman nodded as if to agree, checking his watch. "Fang said he knew a person who could give us some information, something like that to help us find the brat. We get our pay, Chief claims the kid." Dominic shrugged, trying to dredge up any other information he'd found out.
"Kid breached perimeter, and has been sighted all over the city. Mostly in the downtown area. Law enforcement has yet to make a statement. It is unclear at this stage whether the child is still in that area, or has fled to somewhere else. The Araneae are in the game too. " Dominic tilted his head to the side, pausing for a moment. "Businesses have sent out scouts in regards to the search and capture. There is currently a bounty on the child's head. However, it's value on the black market is constantly growing."
Unable to provide a figure for the estimated bounty, he shrugged, assuming the Chief knew.
 
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Jet nodded. "Well into the thousands, yes. I can guess as much. Humans sell for a lot." She considered for a moment, going over her clients. "The downtown area? In that case, the child will doubtfully cross my path. However, I do believe I recieved word from a client the other day. She saw some creatures attempting to smuggle the child out of the city. She didn't see what happened to them, because the crowds blocked her view; however, she thinks they may have moved to the neighbouring city."
She knew there were plenty of kids who were often mistaken for humans in the neighbouring city; it was the best place to send them, as dark an answer as it was. Her lie was perfectly constructed thanks to years of practice, her face and body posture giving away no sign she might be holding any other information.
"Sadly I haven't recieved much more than that. There are plenty of rumours bouncing about the place the child is already dead, others saying it snuck back across the border, more still saying it's captured or being hunted. It seems the human might still be alive. I'll see what I can do to find out more information, but it'll be best to look in the next city if you want anything."
 
Leaving was always the hardest part. Once Jack was out in the streets, sealing deals and ruling the shadows of the city with an iron fist, he could relax into his twisted world of buying and selling human life and enjoy it – but leaving? Sometimes it was almost impossible.
He tightened the space-grey scarf around his neck and slipped white fingerless gloves on, flexing his blackened claws. His boots were warm, waterproof and flexible, a worn black which came up to just above his ankles and concealed the bottom of his black skinny jeans. Carrying around a backpack was too dangerous, so in his long black peacoat were large hidden pockets where he kept things for travelling; money, his phone, even a small handgun in the most discreet pocket of them all. The small pocket next to his heart was where he kept a faded picture of Arrow and Kastra – he had taken it with Arrow's Polaroid camera when he'd come home one night and found them curled up together in the firelight, snoring. He'd never go anywhere without it.
Readjusting his fitted white jumper and ruffling the scarlet curls that strayed from his black beanie, Jack took a few steps towards the door. Arrow had been uncharacteristically quiet while he'd been getting ready, and he was sat on the edge of the sofa, playing with the sleeves of his jumper, stealing glances at Jack every so often, trying to conceal his despondency. Kastra was curled behind him, her head on his lap, her golden eyes following Jack as he prepared. She chirruped softly when she saw him moving towards the door, sitting up. Jack looked at her and offered a small smile, padding over and knocking their foreheads together in that age-old promise – I love you. I will keep you safe. I will always be there. When he straightened up, he took Arrow's hot bronze hand in his own, causing the younger man to look up and meet his eye.
"I'm going now," Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"All right," Arrow nodded, biting at his lip, trying to be casual and unaffected. Jack saw right through it and pulled him to his feet to envelop him in a crushing hug.
"I love you, you beautiful bastard," the grey-skinned creature said, squeezing Arrow and pressing his mouth against his neck, breathing in his perfect, dizzying scent. "I love you so bloody much. You don't realise how much. I'm going to miss you like hell and I'll be thinking of you every day, and I'll call whenever I can, I promise. I love you." Arrow's arms were around Jack's neck and his face was buried in the junction of his neck and shoulder, the skin there icy cold.
"I love you too," he said, voice muffled and soft. "Please keep yourself safe. You know I worry, Jack –"
"I'll be okay, love, I promise," Jack murmured. "I know how to take care of myself."
"Just… don't do anything too stupid," Arrow sighed, his hand splayed against Jack's chest. "I really, really love you. And I'm proud of you. And I'll be waiting by the phone." Jack drew back a little and kissed Arrow. It was soft and gentle and loving and all he ever wanted – he loved Arrow so much, he thought he might faint. Reluctantly, Arrow pulled back just enough that his mouth was out of reach, opening his eyes to hold Jack's gaze instead.
"You should go. Don't keep them waiting."
"Okay, little flame." He held on just a moment longer, savouring Arrow's heat and taste and touch before finally untangling himself from those lean, ebony arms and hugging Kastra again, kissing her feathers lightly.
"You keep him safe," he said quietly, grabbing handfuls of feathers as he stared into those wide gold eyes and watched Kastra nod that she would. "You make sure he's here for me when I come back. And that he eats, and that he doesn't have nightmares, and that you're safe too." They pressed their foreheads together, Kastra knocking Jack's nose with her beak, and Jack's hand went to the necklace around his neck, where one of her beautiful golden-white wing feathers hung from a silver chain. He stood after a moment, backing away, then turned, opened the door and stepped out. The call of the wild pulled him down the stairs and out into his hunting grounds – the shadowy alleys of the city.
 
Dominic's mouth worked, for a moment staring at his partner in silence. "Shit." Roman hardly showed any reaction to the news, instead rolling his shoulders and gazing back until the Harpy looked away. Dominic ran a hand over his feathers, sighing. "So, our best chance of grabbing this kid is in another part of the city." He wanted to scream. All this unessecary searching, only to hear some other competitors might have already taken the kid somewhere.
Roman clicked his tongue, turning around to walk out of the warehouse doors. Dominic gave him an exasperated glance, before turning back to the lady who'd so kindly offered them her understanding of the situation.
"Uh, thanks." He smiles wearily, shoving gloved hands deep into his pockets. He turned around swiftly, unsure of whether to run after his impatient friend or carry on with what had already been discussed.
"We'll find your associate and relay the information to him." He assured, sprinting after his partner.

Roman kicks the warehouse door, the loud bang echoing through the silent dusty hall, making his way over to the parked car outside. Dominic joins him in the fading sunlight, making a sudden gesture which captures the Jackalope's attention.
"Chief is going to be pissed. You heard what she said. Either some other creatures bagged the kid and have already collected the bounty, or it's in some other city."
 
The Chief walked down the street and inspired chills in all those he passed. His back was perfectly straight, hands in his pockets and arms bent just slightly so his shoulders were sharp black angles, chin raised, a perfect sneer curling thin pink lips, eyes like sea-ice observing each element of the city with a calculating curiosity. On the pavements outside of The Dragon's Head there wasn't a soul who didn't know him, and many dipped their heads to him as his eyes briefly met theirs, having sealed a deal or shared a drink with him at some point in their lives. As he worked his way through the connecting roads and cobbled alleyways, there were some who shied away from him in fear – all they knew of him was rumours, the merciless Chief with grey skin and curls like fire. Some caught his gaze and held it, a silent challenge, wondering if they had what it took to overthrow him. Those ones had never met him; they wouldn't dream of trying to face him if they had. Walking with flawless posture and icy expression down one of the slim back alleys littered with shadow despite the afternoon sunlight, the Chief was tentatively caught by the arm – his head turned, eyes alighting on a figure, slightly hunched, head bowed a little and smiling.
"Chief, haven't seen ya in too long," the creature said, a Weircat by the looks of it – passers-by slowed to listen in, to see what was said. "Ya helped me once, out of a sticky situation. Got time for a drink? I've got blood, as much as ya like, Sir." The Chief offered a ghost of a smile, lips twisting to reveal a slither of pointed fang.
"I'd love to, but I'm on a strict schedule," he said, voice cool and even, dripping with confidence and, oddly, sincerity. "I'm afraid I'll have to take you up on that some time after this job has been dealt with. It was very kind of you to offer."
"Ah, no worries, Chief," the Weircat stepped back and called after the Chief as he strode away. "I'll keep the blood warm for ya, Sir!"

The time on the Chief's phone read 4:54pm, and he was only a street away from where his meeting was being held. Claws in his pockets, sharp jaw raised, eyes as fierce as ever – he had to uphold his image no matter where he went. The young, intimidating redheaded vampire who showed no mercy and was perpetually one step ahead. He had long since perfected it, and never let the act drop when he was out in public. It was a part of him, and he enjoyed playing this role. It made him feel invincible.
 
"Ya know, I think after this whole thing dies down, I'm going home for the winter. Back to sandy beaches and tropical trees. Where the women are pretty and the food is better." Dominic watches the scenery pass by in a blur as the car rumbles past corporate buildings and street signs. "It's too cold here. Too miserable." He says the summarizing words with a depressing sigh, not expecting a reply.
Roman says nothing as usual, hands firmly gripping the steering wheel as they slow to a stop outside of the meeting place. In the distance, Fang paces up and down the enterence, wringing his hands in worry and murmuring to himself.
As usual, the Harpy steps out of the car first, adjusting his turquoise wings and shaking them out to greet the sun. Roman follows, slamming the door closed and walking a few steps behind his partner.
"I mean, what is there waiting for me here? Apart from heightening crime rates and poor lifestyle choices. Back home, I used to act. Entertain."
To his surprise, Roman shakes his head. "City of hedonists." He mutters, ignoring Dominic's disapproving glance.
"I take you there once man, show you all the wonders of my home town, and you criticize it's inhabitants because they have it better than you? That's why it's so great! No one's poor. Good food, good people."
The Harpy trudges ahead, leaving the other behind.
 
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The Chief slowed his pace as Fang came into view, moving restlessly outside the doorway of the small bookshop which would hold their meeting. The owner of it had struck deals with the Chief a couple of years previously, and in return the grey-skinned creature had asked for full use of the shop's first floor as a place of storage and a makeshift base. How could the Chief be denied? Now the place was his, and he used it as he wished, even buying books he thought Arrow might like whenever he passed through on his way upstairs. He bit the inside of his mouth, forcing his mind onwards to other things. There was no use in thinking about Arrow now. Reaching the entrance, he stopped and stood in a way that was both relaxed and intimidating, his scarlet curls like tiny flames on his forehead. His calculating, icy eyes locked with Fang's and he nodded slightly before turning and striding inside – why would he wait in the cold? He was the Chief, and he took advantage of that.
 
Jet swung down from the rooftop, through the window and into her apartment. She'd taken the same route out that she had done coming in, ensuring her clients had left before her so they didn't see her exit. It was a habit of hers. If they knew how she'd left, they could track her.
That was, however, currently besides the point.
Her black cape was flung sloppily onto the hook in place as she brushed past, making a beeline for Galzra's room. Upon opening the door, she discovered Galzra and Azur, the latter curled around his younger friend protectively. Both were fast asleep. A soft smile graced her features at the site. She checked Galzra's temperature, surprised to find it had gone down already. That was good, though. With a quick peck on the forehead for each of them, she pulled the blankets gently over them. They stirred slightly, but didn't wake. Quietly, she moved back to the door, and shut it, before walking off to check on the other children.
 
Dominic catches sight of the Chief approaching the building and increases his pace, jogging ahead of Roman.
"I mean, I'd like to see you take me some place nice for once. We go to my place, and suddenly you go all disapproving parent on me. Jesus, yes, my people pretty much value the more luxurious lifestyle over anything else! So what? What about your depressing folks back home, huh? All taciturn and grumpy creatures-" Dominic made an effort of stomping around with a glum look on his fave, immitating the Jackalope. He straightened up, however after catching sight of Fang walking speefily towards them.
Fang greeted the two finally, relieved they'd appeared for the leader's meeting. Roman makes a gruff response, stepping aside to enter the bookshop in his blunt manor, Dominic stopping to exchange a few hushed words with the vampire.
"Is- is Chief.. Did he show any signs over the phone of being mad? Like, remotely pissed?"
They usually ran this conversation routinely, the Harpy finding it a necessity in order to evaluate his boss's current mood. The leader was renowned for being ruthless and hotheaded, and it was easier to ask the one employee who was often on the other end of that temper the majority of the time.
"Yeah. He sounded pretty mad. He wants info on the kid, I think."
Dominic nodded, before shoving his hands into his pockets and following the Chief, who was now standing some distance away near the entrance.
 
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As the Chief strode through the bookshop, he paused by the counter and flashed a razor-toothed smile at the owner – she was a small creature, a Brownie if he wasn't mistaken, and she was perpetually nervous. She was fidgeting now, reorganizing a haphazard stack of books, and her wide muddy eyes darted up as a shadow fell over her and the Chief towered above in his scarlet glory.
"Miss Sorrel," he said, his voice almost a purr. "It's good to see you again." He took her dull brown hand in his elegant pale one and kissed it, one eyebrow slightly arched.
"A-Afternoon, Chief," the Brownie said breathlessly, being of a natural nervous disposition which was only intensified by others.
"I'll be heading up to the meeting room," he explained, flexing his claw before returning it to his pocket. "Most of my associates should already be here; a few more will trickle through in the next few minutes. Don't let them bother you."
"I-I w-won't, Sir."
"Splendid." He smiled again, winked, and spun gracefully on his feet, walking towards the back of the shop.
 
Roman and Dominic followed, Fang bustling in beside them as they talked idly.
"How are things on your end of the business?" Fang asked, paying the Brownie girl at the counter a sharp-toothed grin.
"Well, things are OK. At least this time he's not a trigger happy sociopath is what I'm saying." The Harpy motioned to his partner, and the vampire looked flustered, blinking. Dominic's last assigned partner had been dangerously reckless, with little to no care for the lives of his colleagues. The direct reference to Roman was what surprised the vampire, being in such close proximity to the Jackalope.
Roman said nothing to this, as if he hadn't heard the Harpy, instead choosing to wander over to a shelf of books in a disinterested manor.
Fang was probably the most tolerable of Chief's men, Dominic had decided long ago, and the two were fairly close and casual enough now to be able to slag off other colleagues together in their cynical way.

Steve stared at his watch, going from the pool game to the three huddled in the corner, laughing like nestlings. He brushed back soft wavy hair, sitting by a neighbouring stool quietly. Being a pond creature by nature, a Nereid to be exact, he often found himself being the butt of many jokes in the group, mostly slung from the arachnid. Vince had once even told him his hair made him look like a pissed off mermaid, cheerfully naming some barber's shop as if to cajole him into cutting it all off.
Looking rather put out, he dangled his arm off the table, watching the arachnid exchange two small bags of an illegal substance with another dealer in the corner.
In their eyes, no matter how tough he was, he would always be seen as some prissy merman, as some hilarious joke. Vince and John, now thoroughly drunk, we're now swaying to some music in the corner, having recovered from their laughing fit. He must have spaced out, because all of a sudden Abner had finished his deal, successfully obtaining enough of what he needed to keep his addiction at bay, and was now making his way over to Steve with a grin.
"Oh come on, don't look so sad. You won the game, didn't you?" Abner had a certain sway in his steps, leading the Nereid to believe he too, was inebriated.
Steve gritted his teeth. "We didn't even finish the game."
"Whatever."
A hand grabbed his tie, a loose grip but still a grip nonetheless. "I need to go anyway. I have to meet-" Steve tried, he really did, but the arachnid just grinned.
"One dance. Since John and Vince are already acting really gay, and I feel like I'm missing out."
 
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Cecilia didn't see her father all too often despite them living in the same house – in fact, he was the only blood-relative also living with her. He'd always been a distant man, dismissive of her and her adventurous nature, perpetually wrapped up in some petty business or another. That didn't mean he didn't love her; he was fond of his daughter and the way she held herself. Her manners were perfect and whenever they attended the Noble Families' frequent dinner parties she was always the most radiant creature in the room. It was just that he had so much to do and what she filled her days with didn't really matter to him. As long as she played her part in public, she could do what she liked.

Cecilia could remember better times if she tried hard enough. Flashes of long, auburn hair, glowing brown eyes and ornate antlers filled her mind accompanied by the faint sound of silvery laughter – her mother, just a fragmented memory, always the heartbeat of the Aster-Pitch Manor. A boy, too, with hair much more vibrantly red (she recalled her mother saying it would darken as he grew) than her mother's, lively and confident and an adventurer – that was her brother, Jacobus. Her infant memories were filled with these two creatures who were forever haloed with golden sunlight and smiled in every fragment she could claw up from the depths of her mind. Despite not really knowing them, the house felt empty without them. A single line stuck out in her head, a line that Clara Aster-Pitch had said once while out in the forest with her children, shimmering and laughing and so, so alive –
You're my rosebud girl, Lia.
Cecilia never forgot it.

"The carriage will be arriving at 6 to pick us up," Lord Aster-Pitch explained from where he sat behind his desk, shuffling papers. "Be ready to go – you won't be needing all your furs, because the dinner room, I'm assured, will be warm. Just take your travelling ones." He paused to drink from a steaming mug of tea. "Master Estelwulf will be present. Please, Cecilia, make an effort with him. I understand he is a reserved young man –"
"With all due respect, Father," Cecilia cut in quickly, standing in front of his desk in a white dress and a satin kimono adorned with roses. "I don't think Master Estelwulf and I are compatible. You see, he's rather arrogant, and dare I say it, a little boring –"
He's a haughty prat, the Wendigo girl added bitterly in her head.
"Cecilia," sighed her father. "These are things you two can work through. There will be plenty of other young men and women from Noble Families around the city present, so you will not be with him all evening, but Lord Estelwulf is very keen on you for his son –"
"I'm not property, Father," Cecilia had to restrain herself from snapping, her sharp teeth clenched. "I don't want to be sold off for status." Lord Aster-Pitch looked at his daughter for a long moment.
"I'm afraid that is how the Noble Families work," he said resignedly. "Your mother and I married for power, and it was a good investment. It's a shame she died so young. She was beautiful." Cecilia flexed her claws, which had subconsciously snapped into fists.
"Don't you want love?" she dared to ask. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw sadness on her father's face.
"I am content with what I have." He drank from his mug again. "Now go upstairs, Cecilia, and make yourself look pretty for the Master."
 
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Jet was busy tucking the two children in when a knock sounded on their door. Hastily, she pulled the blankets up to cover Annabeth, who curled up tightly, instinctively understanding they needed to hide. Alexis sat on the bed in front, bringing out two teddy bears who she started to play with. Knowing they looked alright, Jet went to the entrance and opened the door.
"Delivery for Miss Newell?"
"That's me, yes. Thank you, Luke." The blonde angel at the door responded with a lazy grin, handing over the parcel.
"You're looking fine as ever." he said, stepping inside. Jet shut the door behind him.
"Thank you, dear, but I'm really not making an effort."
She'd gone for a bit of a lazier look now that she was at home; she'd changed from her usual black suit to a cotton jumper in a light blue, and wore a brown skirt that allowed her much more movement. Her black hair was swept up into a messy bun. She wasn't exactly the picture of beauty, per say, but more domesticity. Still, Luke's simple compliment coupled with his lazy little grin made her blush a tad. They went back a ways. "Why did you invite yourself in?"
"Well you didn't exactly say no." Luke replied, to which Jet could only nod. She hadn't, not really. The two of them moved into the kitchen, where he leaned against the counter as she brewed him and herself a cup of tea. "Honestly, I think I prefer you like this. It's a lot more casual than your normal working situation." His response earned him a fork flying at him, which he dodged with a good-natured laugh. "Anyway, how've you been doing?"
Jet handed him his mug, taking her one and sat at the table. Luke soon sat opposite her. "I've been good. Lots of jobs recently, you know how it is."
He smirked as he looked at her over the rim of his mug. "Ah, of course, the information dealer is always busy."
"I will throw this mug at you."
Luke tipped his head back and laughed heartily. Jet's fingers tightened around the mug for a second, before she started to chuckle as well. It had been a long time since her dear friend had come to visit, after all. This was a welcome relief from that normally happened. "We've been fine," she said, once they'd calmed down. "Galzra had a bit of a run-in with the guards last night, but nothing he couldn't handle. There was a bit of panic with poison, though."
The angel across from her nearly spat out his tea. "Poison?!"
"It's not in the tea if that's what you're wondering." she said with a lazy grin. "We got it out, but he came down with a fever. He's recovering."
She felt a slight tug on her jumper, and turned to look down. Alexis was there, one hand rubbing her eye sleepily, the other tugging on her jumper. Jet's expression softened into a warm smile, and she set down her tea on the table in favour of lifting the child into her lap. The girl fell asleep almost instantly.
"I still get startled by her. She's so different from you, yet you both work so well together you might as well be related by blood." Luke commented idly. Jet nodded, petting the younger girl's hair.
"She needs a mother figure to look after her, after all. She may be the toughest girl out there for her age, but she's still a child." With that comment, she stood, cradling the child in her arms. "You can check up on the boys if you want. I'm going to tuck her in."
Luke remained sitting, sipping his tea as Jet carried Alexis to her room. Annabeth was sitting there, waiting. After making sure the door was firmly shut, Jet carried Alexis over to the bed and pulled back the covers before setting Alexis down. Annabeth cuddled the dark angel close, looking up at Jet with wide, curious eyes. Such childlike wonder, Jet thought absentmindedly. She pulled the covers back up to cover them both, and gave them each a small peck on the head. As she left, switching the light off and shutting the door, she made a silent vow to herself to not let that curiosity fade early as she had with Alexis. She didn't want to make mistakes with this child, no matter if they weren't a creature like the rest of them.
 
Minerva let a small sob escape her, propping two bunny slipper clad feet onto her coffee table. Perhaps she had been long overdue for a good cry and she really should have seen it coming, perhaps not. It seemed like her life was someone else's these days.
Desperately reaching for the tissues, she dabbed at her cheeks, trying to salvage what was left of her so carefully applied mascara. She was dressed in work clothes, tight and grabby, but she didn't care that much. Why the fuck was she crying anyway? She sighed, trying to recall something that had been grating at her for a while.
When she had been just a small vicious little arachnid, she used to watch those godforsaken Disney movies on a Saturday morning in the comfort of her pajamas, staring up to those beautiful and graceful princesses with looks of awe and happiness. For her fifth birthday, her poor mother, who had already been short on money, had gotten her a short little dress, a dress resembling Snow White's own. She had never been at a happier point in her life. Oh how she'd twirled and danced and sung in her terribly shrill voice, fuelled by the clapping of Hector, who had insisted on a fashion show within minutes of her mother handing her the dress. The memory was soft now, faded.
A few years on, Minerva had discovered the dress buried deep in a pile of clothes in her apartment, without any recollection of how it had gotten there. Five year old her, versus her now. She'd dropped the tattered dress like it had burnt her, scooting across the floor as if to get as far away from it as possible.
Five year old her would have been so disappointed to find out she didn't grow up to be Snow White, to grow up to be perfect and graceful and kind-hearted. It was just that fucking disappointment she couldn't handle.
She wasn't Snow White. She was a whore. It had been the only job an Araneae who wanted to bring in an actual income was stereotyped to have, and she thrust herself into that work well before she was prepared.
God, she's tried. Signing up for jobs here, jobs there. In every interview they'd stared at her, looking over every detail with scorn, and she knew before they'd told her that she just wasn't the one for the job.
She had been a nanny once, well, not really. The job had only lasted three days because her employer, the mother who had hired her, didn't know she was part of that family until she showed up. Obviously she had been told her nanny was perfectly capable of looking after her bratty kids, but she hadn't known the girl was from a frowned upon kin.
She showed up, did her job, but in order not to seem old-fashioned, her employer had let her stay for two days, before telling her she just wasn't right for the job on the third.
And so, here she was now, crying on her busted couch.

(( Wow this suddenly got long and depressing. XD))
 
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The Chief ascended the stairs to the first floor wordlessly and entered the large, airy room where he often held meetings with the creatures under his command – it was empty save for a long table which he seated himself at the head of. A few of his colleagues had already gathered and greeted him respectfully, trying not to freeze under his icy gaze. He readjusted his scarf and collar, his fingers brushing quickly over the left breast of his coat where he knew the faded photo of Arrow and Kastra was, then tapped blackened claws on the table's surface. The rhythmic noise echoed around the otherwise silent room and it made some restless as they waited for Fang, Dominic and Roman to join them.
 
Dominic pounded down the stairs, feet clattering loudly and echoing into the large empty room where the Chief resided. Roman eventually followed too, a few books under his arm that he had undoubtedly bought. Fang was more quiet in his approach into the mostly silent empty room, walking with his head bent respectively low.
The Harpy's distant voice was heard, as he muttered something to his partner.
"You got a thing for Miss Sorrel over there who runs the counter? I mean, you buy an awful lot of books when she's on duty." Dominic mentioned casually, as if it was the most obvious observation in the world, smiling at his partner as they entered the room side by side.
Roman didn't respond, only found a seat away from his partner in silence, folding two arms on the table. Fang's chair made a dull grating noise as he pulled it out, only amplified in the silent room as he winced.

Cullette stood by the library, smiling at her passing sisters as they hummed in their quiet individual frequencies. She was visiting her old hive, her nest again. Breathing in the scent of home, she dipped her head and walked gracefully to her mother's own part of the hive. It was something of a tradition to visit before the winter celebrations, and many other wasps must have had the same idea, for they all gathered in their respective families' hallways.
It was a relief to be away from her own place, away from the confusing sounds and constant noise of the city. Not to mention the Araneae that seemed to lurk in every corner of the city. They were old enemies, the Vespa and the Araneae. Since before she was born the two kins had been at each other's throats, which was perplexing since the female spider had told her of a completely different time, when they two had once existed peacefully together. She shook the thought away, finally swallowing and shoving down her excited butterflies as she knocked on her sisters' dorm.
 
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There was music.
Why was there music?
It was so impossibly perfect to fit the moment as Jet found herself slow dancing in the kitchen with Luke. She wasn't sure what had led up to this moment- she'd tucked in the children, gone into the kitchen and...well, she'd lost track of time. Somewhere between talking to Luke and cleaning up he'd put on music and now they were dancing.
And she didn't mind a bit.
She rested her head against his chest. He smelled of mint leaves and spring fields, promise and hope. Life. He reminded her of clear skies and large open fields filled with flowers of yellow and blue and purple, the perfect picture of springtime. His heartbeat was calm beneath her ear, like the soothing waves of the sea, or the gentle thud of her footsteps as she traversed that sea of spring barefoot. A time long ago, when she was young and free to explore, not restrained by her children and her job. When she'd been kinder, laughed and smiled a lot more, been informal. That Jet felt light and airy compared to the Jet she now was.
To Luke, as he held her close while she got lost in her thoughts, she was that dark breeze. She smelled of night air, black flowers and a silent promise. There was a faint, almost intangible scent of blood to her that only Luke could see because he'd known her before she'd gotten that. She reminded him of dusk, welcoming and promising a good, comforting rest. She reminded him of the night, secretive and dangerous, but if you made it your ally, protective, sheathing you in the same cloak in which it hid everything else. Her heartbeat was rapid, thudding against his torso, reminding him of the thrill of the hunt. She must have recently been out on a mission. He remembered when he'd been young, protecting Jet as she'd frolicked without a care in the world. Not knowing how messed up this world was. He remembered growing up with her, training her on how to fight. Watching as she'd developed into an assassin, catching up to him and then surpassing him as she fell completely into her line of work like it was always meant for her.
They were a contrast. He was the light, and she was the dark. But when the two collided, they painted a beautiful picture of dawn and dusk. Sunset and sunrise.
That was what happened in both their eyes when his lips met hers.
 
She was greeted by high coral voices as she stepped into the room, each humming at their own frequency. Three identical to the average observer Vespa girls rushed about the kitchen, gathering pans and various baking ingredients. They had both simultaneously turned their heads in Cullette's direction, greeting her in the surprised tone all three had adopted.
"Hey, Cullette!"
"Greetings sister!"
"Hi."
Cullette smiled, closing the door behind her. Despite the fact that she'd left the hive at the youthful age of sixteen, she was partial to sometimes visiting her family when it neared the holidays. The air smelt of cinnamon, and she noticed soft unkneaded dough on the counter, cookie cutters and piping bags dotted around the main table and kitchen. Home.
"I came by to drop off some presents if that's alright." The young girl smiled cheerfully, placing three shopping bags on the counter, careful not to knock any packets of flour off the table.
"Thanks!"
"Nice of you to do so!"
"You shouldn't have."
Her sister's words chorused from the kitchen, and Cullette almost shivered. As much as she loved her sisters, there was something a bit creepy about the fact that they talked in unison together, so that everything blurred into one voice alone. Her family this year was in charge of the patisserie, providing festive goods for each Vespa in the hive. Of course, under the glare of the oven and packed into the small kitchen, it was admittedly hard work for all three, although they coordinated their movements so well it looked as if they were hardly busy at all. Perhaps dancing.

Abner ran his hands through the pond creature's hair, mumbling something incoherent to himself as he did so. "I kind of like it. Like a sexy... Merman." The words were slurred, and Steve paused to eye the arachnid with a frown. Abner had been a close friend for years, but not close enough for the Nereid to point out his concerns about the spider. After all, Abner's life choices were not his to make, but he couldn't help but worry about the arachnid. The dark rimmed eyes were evidence enough that the spider hardly slept, and his constant moving and tics were the obvious side effects of whatever the fuck was in his system.
Vince and John had staggered out of the bar together minutes ago, laughing drunkenly and howling into the cold air with no respect for the strangers who had already retired to bed in the city, and now it was just the two of them. They had been a gang when they were nestlings. In some respect, they still were. Minerva, Abner, Vince, John and himself. Minerva was only allowed to hang around on the pretence that the spider in front of him and the other were siblings, and she would threaten to run off and tell Chance if Abner didn't let her play. They used to visit him, his small family pond in some rich kin's garden, and Vince and John would prop their heads on their hands and lean dangerously close to the water, in awe of the scaled creature in front of them. He could stay away from water for longer periods of time now that he was older, but being a small young Nereid meant staying in the water perpetually, as dehydration for his kin proved deadly. His mother never left the pond, being extremely agoraphobic and content with the regular visits supplied from the rich family who owned the estate, so it had been just him and his mother when the other children visited. The goldfish of a rich family's garden accessory.
"You're honestly too drunk to be capable of any normal conversation, Ab. Not like you'll remember this in the morning anyway," Steve muttered, saying the words outright to the arachnid who only made a ridiculous expression and shrugged in response. Abner toyed with his companion's seaweed curls, looking for once carefree and happy.
"Don't listen to Vince." The Nereid had to strain his ears to hear what the hybrid was saying. "I think your hair's nice. Really."
Steve laughed nervously, gently tugging the arachnid's hands out of his hair as if he was teasing a child out of grasping an earring.
"Good to know. Thanks."
 
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Nights like this were when Alexis liked to pretend the world didn't exist. She sat on the roof with Annabeth, staring up at the stars. There were no clouds, allowing a clear view tonight. It was a rare treat.
If Jet caught either of them on the roof they would be in for it, big time.
At the moment, though? It didn't matter. Alexis had seen how shaken Annabeth was by their adventures, and wanted to take good care of them. They'd mentioned how they'd always wanted to see the stars, but back home where they came from the light pollution was so intense that they'd never been able to. She'd asked why they hadn't looked once they'd run away. Annabeth had responded that they'd been too focused on not getting caught.
None of that mattered now, she thought. Her friend sat on the roof, blue eyes sparkling with wonder at the night sky. Their green curls drifted slightly in the faint cold breeze, perfectly framing their tanned skin. Alexis wondered how it was possible for a child to be so pretty.
She looked down at her own skin, black as the night itself. Blacker than the natural skin tones.
Was it even possible to call herself pretty?
Pfft, she thought, shaking the thoughts down. I shouldn't be thinking of that at this age. She was only 11, as was Annabeth, judging by their looks at least. They hadn't actually confirmed- in fact, it appeared they couldn't remember their birthday. Alexis couldn't help but wonder why. Perhaps they'd never celebrated it, or just didn't want to say? It didn't quite add up, because they still remembered small amounts of their human life.
A hand lightly tugged on a black plait, pulling her out of her thoughts. It appeared that was a habit of Annabeth's. Not that Alexis minded, of course, as it was a lot harder to ignore. She turned to face her friend, and they gave a warm smile. Their hands moved to sign "Pretty" before they pointed at the night sky. And then at Alexis.
Shocked, she placed a hand to her chest, raising an eyebrow. Annabeth nodded, a mischievous grin on their face. Alexis rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself, and shook her head, but signed thank you anyway before turning to look back up at the night sky. Annabeth did the same.
Just for once, for tonight, Alexis could pretend everything was okay, that the hardships in the world didn't exist. Just like her mother was doing below, chatting with Luke. Nights like this were when she could pretend they were a normal family living a normal life, rather than assassins hiding a human. What she'd give to live a normal life.
 
Shopping. She could buy herself something nice. She deserves it. That's a thing to focus on, at least.
Minerva, eyes red and sore from all the crying the night before, rose in her bed, shifting the heavy duvet out of the way so she could gain enough motivation to roll from the warm sheets and mattress.
"Yeah. Shopping." She used to go on shopping trips with her 'gal pals' from her old place, before she moved. Of course, together as a group they would be over-exaggerated and loud, but she loved shopping that way.
She left her old place when her family moved, needing to support the business and practically pressured into it by Hans anyway, but she still wonders what all her old friends are up to now.
The reflection in her dressing table mirror is pale and sickly, and her hair is parted the wrong way, but she can fix that.
She ponders what she could buy for herself, and where she should shop while she eats her breakfast, and it strikes her slightly embarrassing that she's already getting excited about it.
Hector. She doesn't know why her brother's name drifts into her head, but it dawns on her that he started his own clothe's shop after he left the family business. He's made a comfortable living for himself, catering mainly to the rich folk in the wealthy part of the city. She remembers she hasn't seen him since they were practically teenagers, and makes it part of her list to visit his cozy little shop and buy herself something nice in that part of the city while she's out.
 
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