Blood from Stone [AU]

[Coquette Blacquin]

She wrinkles her nose. "I was never any good with scripture," she warns. "That's Liz's job. Oh, uh, in these guises, we are called Cindy and Liz rather than Cedric and Garrett."

[Vigile]

"Understood," he assures her. "Ah, speaking of... guises and the like- I, like many pavitra, particularly those of non-mortal shape, have... difficulty with understanding the divisions mortals use to describe and divide themselves. How should I address the pair of you in common? Aside from names, I mean."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Aside from... well, we're both half-elven...?"

[Vigile]

"Yes, so I suspected, though..." He studies Cindy for a moment, then blinks once. "I had meant the primary mortal dividing factor, sex."

[Coquette Blacquin]

She reddens, ever so slightly. "In this form, we are female. In the other, we are male."

[Vigile]

"Peculiar," he notes in the tone of one that doesn't care one way or the other, just finds it vaguely interesting. "Understood."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Good," she says, seeming faintly distracted. Speaking of sex, I should spend some quality time with Liz later, help her get grounded. "Good. Let me show you where the litter box is, and we shall discuss any other needs you have."

[Carver Amell]

The day's second errand was far less pleasant than the first.

Carver had finished his early-morning patrol, lunched with Will, then bid the boy farewell as he headed uptown toward Summerhill Sanitarium. The closer he gets to the building, the worse his mood becomes. The facility has no right being so pleasant and bright. It should be a dark, gloomy castle, ominous with thunder and dark clouds all year round. He knows it's better for the patients that the place be cheery, but still, the sheer trepidation with which he approaches the building seems incongruous to its sunny exterior. 

The receptionists all know him; when he's in Nyra, he's here at least once a week, preferably twice. He doesn't offer to bring Bethany, hasn't for over a year. Nor does he bother bringing flowers or books, not anymore. She just forgets he's brought them, spends the next visit telling him she's bought them, hinting that he'd do well to bring her presents once in a while. Better to spend the coin where it'll be appreciated. It's not as if she's poorly cared for, after all. She has the best care money can buy.

Too bad it's not enough.

He plasters an easy smile onto his face, knocking at the door before letting himself inside. "Mother? It's Carver, I've come to see you."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

Visits to Leandra these days are something of a dice throw. Most of the time, she's... tolerable. Moody, a little waspish, but doting and mostly the woman he remembers for the bulk of his life. A rare, precious handful of days, she's quieter, more introspective. On those days, she not only lacks the delusions that Marian is untouched by hardship but also speaks of all her children with fondness and regret. Admittedly, she speaks of Bethany only indirectly, using phrases like 'you and your sisters.' But she acknowledges that she has three children, that she's unwell and that her life's hardships were, perhaps, in part her own doing. 

On those days, she often holds him close and cries. Soft tears, of sorrow and shame, not hysterical ones. And she tells him she loves him with honest eyes.

Other days... other days, the nurse turns him back with a soft 'today isn't a good day for a visit, I'm sorry.' Other days, she seems to be quiet or distracted, then turns to chat with the empty air. Other days, she'll fly into rages, demanding to know where her husband or daughter is, threatening anyone around her for taking them away. On those days, when Carver is wise, he finds his twin and holds her close. Or finds his mentor and gets put to work. When he is not wise, he thinks of rotgut and edges. Thankfully, it's only thoughts.

As for today... "Carver? Is that you?" a voice calls back, sounding pleased and a bit distracted. Not with that medicated slur, the slowness that denotes sedation, but more... sleepiness? In the afternoon?

[Carver Amell]

I just said it was. "Mother, it's good to see you." Please, Astea, let it be good to see her. Let it be a good day. Bless my efforts to reunite our family.

He comes to sit in his usual chair, pulling it closer to her rocking chair. "How have you been?"

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

"Not well," she says tiredly. "This place is so damp and chilly, I've gotten a trifle ill." Normally Carver would, reasonably enough, put that aside as her griping. But... she does look a bit off. Tired and a bit listless. Her eyes are a touch red and she looks cold despite the heavy quilts wrapped around her and the small fire (behind a locked grate) she's sitting next too. "Could you make your poor mother a bit of tea?"

[Carver Amell]

"Of course," he says, his tone gentle. "Ginger? To bring that little extra warmth?" he asks, getting up to heat the kettle. Only Nyra would waste magic warming a kettle for people who half the time are hallucinating. 

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

"That's my darling boy," she says fondly, closing her eyes as she rocks. "One of the few things I can honestly say your father was right about."

[Carver Amell]

His hands slow; he forces them to continue preparing the tea. "Father said I was darling?" he asks, his voice a little rough. 

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

"Of course," she says with a light laugh, her tone distant as her mind wanders in the past. "You'd never have been happy as you were. Best thing he ever gave you save his seed. Far better man than he ever was..."