@riley-voss​‌:

Once the word ‘wrong’ comes out of his mouth she frowns, winding up to give another long spiel about all the reasons she’s right. But then the next three words that leave his lips have her face screwed up so tight she thinks perhaps her brain actually stopped functioning properly. Love. Love…love? Did he say… “You love me?” Riley repeats, dropping all the nonsensical things he says afterwards, they don’t matter. Not in the way these words do. Has he said that before? I love you…she can’t recall. Surely she would recall hearing him say those words if he had before…no. No, she has never heard them. And yet they leave his lips so easily, as if he’s been sure of them since the day he was born. How can he be so positive? Her eyes are still set on him when he turns to look at the people passing by, and she sees perhaps for the first time since he approached her, the tired lines under his eyes. He’s exhausted. Probably not just physically, from being taken into the station to early, but mentally as well. How long did they have him in there, questioning him, waiting for a moment that would never come? Riley knew of Isaac’s past, there’s no way in hell he’d sit in there and crack so easily. Surely her family’s secret is still safe. But she worries of how easily this could put a toll on him. On them. 

They begin to walk, Riley easily sliding up beside him to take his hand. It felt better to walk this way, safer. With his presence beside her, she didn’t feel the need to reach into her pocket, to grip the knife she has hidden away. She had her time to talk at him, to get angry over his actions, to be fearful of what could have happened. Were they alive today? Yes. But did that mean they’d be safe forever? No. Things just…don’t work out that way, not for her family, and she thinks not for Isaac’s either. That…that worries her, probably deeper than anyone really knows. When they come to a stop, Riley turns to look up at him, her teeth catching on her bottom lip. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. “I’m in love with you,” she blurts out suddenly after he’s finished speaking, her eyes going wide. “I…I have been in love with you for a while now, I think, and I’m…Isaac, I’m terrified. Every time I feel this way about someone, something horrible happens. And I think I’ve just been waiting for that thing to happen,” she explains, feeling tears well up in her eyes now, which she promptly pushes back. “When I realized I might die, that day of the parade, all I wanted to do was tell you that. I wanted to tell you then, that I loved you, but then…” She shakes her head trailing off. “I thought if I did, before…before I fed from you, that, I don’t know, something might happen, that I would lose control,” she goes on, wiping tears from her eyes as she laughs spitefully, shaking her head. “You could have died, Isaac. Whether I did it, or Edmund, or someone else, you could’ve died, I could’ve lost you, and you’re being so flippant about it. I mean that…that’d be on me. That’d be on me and my family, because this mess with Edmund, all of this, is ours. Not yours. I never wanted you to have to get involved in this again,“ she murmurs, her body seeming to gravitate towards his as she practically falls into him. Her forehead presses against his chest and her eyes close, taking in his scent, his heartbeat. “But you’re alive,” she says into his shirt, kissing his chest. “And Arthur’s okay, and so is everyone else who matters. I’m happy for that.” 

It seemed obvious to him, the fact that he loved her. Had he not let her feed on him when it could have easily gone badly? Loved her enough to chance dying, though it was true that Isaac didn’t value his own life anywhere near as highly as that of those he loved. Maybe that was why he was so ‘flippant’ as she said, though a lot of that right now was an attempt to not have that conversation when he was exhausted for fear of saying something that he didn’t mean. He sighed as she began to blurt out word after word, her eyes filling with tears. Not because she was wrong, but because every bit of it was a sucker punch to his heart and even if on some points he disagreed, he could feel her pain through the touch of her hands on his own. “Riley, I...” Isaac began, cutting himself off just as he started once he realized he didn’t have the right words. Instead he led them over to a bench in front of a cafe on the way home and guided her into taking a seat with him. “I don’t know how to handle my life mattering to someone else. That’s the nasty truth, mon soleil. My life has always been an afterthought and I...I’m working on that, or I’m trying to. Also I’ve had maybe, maybe three hours of sleep. So I’m not at my best, even a little.”

A yawn cut him off there, which was good enough evidence all its own. Annoying though, given they still had to get home after untangling this thorny mess of emotions that they had rolled themselves into. “I love you, I would die for you, and I know only the first one of those is acceptable to you. So I’ll try very hard not to do the second, okay?” But Riley, sweetheart, you can’t lay everything on yourself either. You aren’t a bad luck charm, you aren’t a bad omen just because of what was done to you.” Isaac said, smiling at her despite the redness of his eyes and the decided slump to his shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then one to each cheek, and finally one to her lips, lingering and sweet. After that last one he pressed his forehead to hers a moment, brown eyes on blue, and he sighed. “I’m a target for being who and what I am as much as you are, mon soleil. All we can do is keep moving forward, not looking back. You willing to try to do that with me, my love?” It wasn’t a proposal, neither was ready for that, but it almost felt like it as he drew back into a sitting position before he went cross eyed looking at her. “I didn’t rat you out to Ulrich. Not you, not Odette, not Arthur. You know that, I just thought I’d reiterate. Also think it’s worth mentioning that I am in desperate need of a nap, so it would be real nice if I got to take one with my lady love. If you aren’t busy, that is. And if you’re willing to share a bed with such a mess.” Probably, even if the sheets needed washing again.

Radioactive || Riley & Isaac

@riley-voss​‌:

Meet me at Irving Square. This is Isaac’s answer to being late and she can’t say it sits right with her. Yes, okay. She will meet him…but why is he late? It’s enough to cause worry, which is enough for her to grab a coat, gloves, and hat to meet him there early.  Of course before heading out the door she grabs the knife Arthur got for her, as much for her protection as it is for Isaac’s. With everything that’s happened, she can never be too careful. Edmund’s death didn’t mean they were off the hook, or safe, for that matter. There will always be more Edmund’s looking to wreak havoc and cause trouble for those they think have wronged them, and there are plenty of those around. Between her mother, Katherine, Arthur, and Isaac alone, she’s sure more will come out of the woodwork. By the time she reaches Irving Square, Isaac isn’t anywhere in sight. Well, it’s not time yet, Riley, be calm. He’s probably still…whenever he is, she thinks, looking around and holding the knife a little tighter in her pocket.

Another minute passes by when her eyes finally land on a familiar figure coming down the steps of Lethe’s Police station. She freezes, watching him as she makes his way down to the plaza. At first he doesn’t notice her. He isn’t looking up, how could he possibly notice? Their eyes lock when he gets a little bit closer. Riley’s jaw sets and her fists clenched by the time he reaches her, eyes wide with worry and anger. “What the fuck?” She breathes out once he’s close enough, trying to keep her voice low. “Isaac what the hell is going on? Why are you coming out of the police station? Is that…is that where you’ve been all day?” Already the tone of her voice is beginning to rise. Some people passing by even turn to stare briefly before scurrying away. “Did they arrest you, are you…I mean are you okay?” She asks, suddenly stepping forward to take his hands in hers. “I thought you were…never mind. Why…I don’t understand. Why? Why weren’t you going to tell me about this? I mean that’s why you wanted me to meet you here later, right? So I wouldn’t see you leave?” You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to, she says to herself, stepping back to look at him fully. No. There would be light touching or kisses to make this go away. Whatever’s going on has something to do with her family, and the dread of that is already beginning to eat at her. “Don’t say what I think you’re going to say,” she stops him from speaking, putting up her hand in front of his face. “You care about me. You wanted to protect me. What did you do, Isaac? Did my mother, did she…just…just please tell me this doesn’t have to do with Edmund. Tell me you weren’t involved with him other than bringing him here, just…tell me that. Tell me Arthur wasn’t involved either, please just…fuck,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “Please tell me you didn’t get further involved.”

It was, in his humble opinion, deeply fucking lame that they sent one piddly new trainee cop to demand he come to the station after knocking at his door far too early in the morning. A baby faced one too, which was twice as rude. These were the kinds of things he chose to focus on after the fact, waiting around the police station to be given his slip of release. Isaac still wasn’t sure what August Ulrich had wanted from him; did he expect a seasoned criminal like him to crack easily? Confess all? Maybe, maybe not. But Isaac had been stealing since he was old enough to walk unaided and he certainly wasn’t going to sell out Odette. So he had sat there, unmoved by requests made of him or hollow threats made. In the end they nabbed him for trespassing, something they had visual evidence of more so than anything else. If Gabriel Maddox had been around, he could have sweet talked him into saying he wasn’t, but according to rumor the man was dying. So that was out of his hands. He paid his fine in one dollar bills out of pure spite, fielding texts from a near frantic Riley, and he flipped August a mocking salute on his way out the door. Never had been fond of police.

If he had been a lucky man, she would have been late or at least out of sight of the station, but when has he ever been lucky? Never, which is why he sighed loudly as he crossed the street to meet up with her. “Now Riley...” He managed to get out before she started her rant, but then he fell silent. Whereas Odette was all measured words and calculated silences, Riley was fiery diatribes that came in flurries of words until they were spent. So he lets her speak, lets her take his hands in hers, closes his mouth again when he was about to speak and found her hand in front of him. “I’m fine. Not to be a twat, but you’re wrong on one thing. I don’t care for you, I love you. That’s a big fucking difference. And Riley, darling, they don’t let you text or call in the interview room. So no, I didn’t plan that. They just showed up so early this morning that was how the dice fell.” Isaac paused, looking at the people staring nearby and trying to seem subtle, then shook his head. “Walk with me. I don’t feel like sharing this conversation with all of Lethe.” Truthfully he didn’t feel like having it at all, but life never did ask permission to kick you in the ass, did it? So he stepped off the curb, aware that right now she probably wasn’t much for holding hands, and he started walking away from the park. “Riley, I told you a long time ago that I will not lie to you. So unfortunately, yeah. I was involved past that point. Either your mother was going to try to dispose of Edmund herself and botch it or I could step in. Arthur found me, Arthur helped. Arthur loves you like a daughter, I love you like...like the moon loves the light of the sun.” He sighed, stopping midway up an empty residential street so he could turn around to look at his girlfriend. “You don’t want anyone to be in danger, to be hurt because they love you. So I’m not hurt. Arthur isn’t hurt. I got nailed for trespassing, that’s all they have. Alright?”

Radioactive || Riley & Isaac

Date: October 21st, 2020 Time: 4:01 pm Location: A parking lot near the Lethe Woods

@arthur-talbot​

Maybe it would have been nice if this was the first time he had driven around with a corpse in the bed of his truck. Normal people lived like that. Supposedly. Normal people also didn’t do their girlfriend’s mother a favor by disposing of her great-however many generations back uncle either, but that was kind of par for the course at this stage in his life. According to legend the average vampire was supposed to turn into dust when they were staked, which was disappointingly inaccurate. At the very least it didn’t stink like anything worse than dusty graveyard, so his biggest problem was disposal. Isaac had been mulling over the options at hand when the door of his truck opened to reveal one Arthur Meadowes, whom he hadn’t been expecting at all. “Wǒ kào!” Isaac hissed, jumping slightly at the surprise. Arthur seemed amused and that just rubbed some salt in the wound to boot, given they were both veterans of a line of work that required them to be observant at all times at the cost of their own lives. “Now you’re just embarrassing me to remind me how rusty I am. I see how it is.” He sighed, aware that Arthur seemed to be aware already of what nasty cargo sat in the truck bed behind them. “I’m doing Odette and Riley a favor.”

@oliversdawson​‌:

Date: October 20, 2020 Time: 6:01 pm Location: Isaac & Oliver’s house

“Hi, hello – I’m late, I know. Sorry.” Rain drums heavily on the roof by the time Oliver finally fumbles through the door. His hair is damp at best, more accurately soaked, but he’d been doing quite a balancing act on the brief walk between Adam’s house and theirs. Arms chock full of jars, Ollie enters the kitchen and places his assortment on the counter before trying to wipe his glasses. “Drove Adam home because of the weather and he started tossing all sorts of things at me – teas and balms and whatnot. Stuff for you, too. He claims you’ve been looking especially brooding lately.” Oliver agrees, but it’s not a fight he’s about to pick, not when another offer from Adam weighs on him. Instead of addressing that, he puts a kettle on the stove then departs for a moment, returning to the kitchen in dry clothes. A cup of tea is sat in front of his brother before Ollie takes a seat of his own, a small smile crinkling a somewhat red nose. Blame the rain. “For stress relief.” He explains with a gesture towards the mug before taking a sip from his own. Brooding as his brother may be, Oliver thinks he’ll be the one reaping the benefits from this if he’s going to segue into the topic that eats at him now. Hopefully this is the sort of blend that bolsters courage, too. “How was your day?”

“What am I, the curfew police? You’re late, you clearly were cavorting with your not boyfriend and enjoying it, so what do I care?” A lot, but not in a way that would keep him from letting his brother be with someone who so very clearly makes him happy. Besides, it’s also fairly obvious that Adam’s concoctions are helping his perpetually stressed brother sleep properly for the first time in his life, so that’s good enough for Isaac. Even if he can sense that there’s something else his brother wants to talk to him about, something that bothers him enough that he wastes time changing clothing and making tea before he broaches the subject. Isaac takes the mug, though he’s only going to give a cursory answer before nudging the truth out of his baby brother. You would think by now that he would realize how useless it is to hide anything from him, but Ollie had always been more hopeful than he was willing to admit. “Lost a fight with some wainscotting in the inn’s pantry, but you know, it is what it is. Took a nice walk with Riley out in the park.” He took a sip of the tea, pulled a face, and sat the mug down again. Maybe he’d finish it, maybe he wouldn’t, but he tried it. So that was a gesture enough. “Jun-Seo, you are bullshitting around the kitchen trying not to bring something up to me and it is really harshing my tea mellow. Spill it.”

always gold | oliver & isaac

morgancortez‌:

Date: September 23, 2020 Time: 9:05pm Location: Oddities Inn @isaacsdawson

“You didn’t have to come. I’m sorry for frightening you over the phone,” she said swiftly when the ding of a bell announced Isaac’s arrival. Calling him at near three in the morning hadn’t been her brightest idea, nor was the swearing and the crying, but it had been… a long night. Her feet jiggled on the floor, a nervous twitch she wasn’t relaxed enough to handle. Shouldn’t she be happy? Ingrid was alive, and embarrassingly enough, Morgan had kissed her in front of everyone in that hospital room, and all was well. It wasn’t a bad ending, but then she didn’t think a kiss would get rid her nose of the thick smell of blood, or those too long seconds when she heard no breathing. She shivered, arms crossing over her chest and fingers balling against a nonexistent cold. “Is… Is Ollie okay? I tried calling him, but no answer, I assumed he was just… sleeping or something.” She and his brother weren’t so close, it didn’t surprise her that he didn’t answer or return it. Maybe this was the incentive she needed to kindle that friendship. “And Riley? You said that– My god, what happened to your wrist?” She shot up out of her seat, crossing over to him. Isaac was almost a full foot taller than her, but Morgan still caught his sleeve, yanking it a little to see the marking a little more clearly, eyes narrowed. “Was this her?”

Isaac wrinkled his nose at his cousin as soon as she tried to minimize her needs, though by now he should be used to that reaction from her. Didn’t mean he had to validate it though. “Uh no, I did have to come. You’re my cousin, more like my sister, so it matters to me when you’re upset.” With that he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gave her a quick hug, only to get barraged with a question about Ollie and a look of horror once she sees the dark marks that haven’t yet faded from his wrist. Isaac isn’t too concerned if they will, he isn’t vain, but he doesn’t fancy explaining them to everyone he knows for the near future either. The easier of the two first, he thinks. “Ollie is currently asleep in the bed of his ‘not boyfriend’ Adam, according to Adam himself. He got a little beaten up when the crowds went full riot, so Adam fixed him up for me.” Isaac said drily, hand going to rub at his wrist as if he could still feel fangs dug into it. Before Morgan could ask again, he held up a hand for a moment to put words together, then began to explain. “She was jumped on her way home. I think by some goons that belong to Katherine Irving’s brother. I don’t think she would have made it back home, she was drained so dry, so I...let her feed on me. It’s not a big deal, Morgan.” He shrugged, then nodded at her. “How’s Ingrid?”

Waking Up | Isaac & Morgan

@riley-voss​‌:

I don’t need an escort, my love. Not tonight. Oh too little too late to change her mind now, no? These words Riley had come to regret now that she laid sprawled out against the base of a tree, blood covering the better half of her body. Some of it had even begun to fall from her lips, unable to keep it all in. She looked like something out of a horror movie and she knew exactly why. Exactly who did it, or at least the men who left her for dead had told her as much. Edmund. Somehow someone had managed to get a hold of him and apparently Riley got the short end of the straw. Not so much a beating as it was a massacre, specifically made for a vampire. She’d been walking home with her headphones in, why? If only she’d removed one, maybe she would’ve caught on…maybe… “I-Isaac!” She called weakly, the tail end of her voice coming out raw. Her skin is as a pale as the moon above them, yet the blood sticking to her clothes, her hair, her body, her skin, it all glistened in the moonlight. Perhaps he saw that before he heard her voice, the fear in his eyes told her this. “I-I-Isaac,” she stammers softly, hand barely moving as she attempts to slide it against his chest. “‘m s-s-sorry. I’m s-so sorry.” I’m sorry I didn’t let you walk me home. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, that I was foolish to think the bad was far from over. I should’ve known. I should’ve stopped them. If only her lips worked, if only the words she wanted to say would come out. They hang loosely in her throat, blood filling the empty space. 

Would she live long enough to tell him who did this to her? Or did he already know? Riley looked into Isaac’s eyes, her eyes confused, scared, wider than they had been before. Why? Why was this happening? For years she prayed for death but now…now she’s terrified to lose the life she has. In seconds she’s scooped up into the fae’s lap, his warmth elicits a gentle shiver down her spine and a gentle moan in pain leaves her lips. It hurt to be moved, even to be touched by something that equally felt as good. Never had she wanted his blood more than she did right now. She’s too weak to even try, and far too stubborn. But then…then he makes it so easy. In fact, he practically places his arm on a platter for her, telling her it’s okay. He trusts her. “N-No,” she stammers out, somehow managing to gently push at his chest. “No.” If I don’t die from this, you will. She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t. But fuck, she really didn’t want to die. If she could cry, she would. And hell for a moment she thinks she is, until she realizes it’s just more blood. All the same right? “I d-don’t want t-t-to die.” What other options do you have? Die or drink, which one is it? When she meets Isaac’s eyes she knows there’s only one true option. Drink. “I’m s-sorry,” she whispers again, letting Isaac guild her. “I’m sorry.” 

Theoretically he’s done more dangerous things over the course of his life. Run into burning buildings, played hooky with explosives, and the like, but this was different. It was necessary, it was the most necessary thing he could possibly imagine in this moment with his Riley so badly hurt, but he could understand now the danger. Why he had been told time and time again to avoid vampires by every Fae he had ever met. It was almost intoxicating, the rush of endorphins his brain was forced into giving when she bit into his wrist. You could very easily lose yourself in it and care little for what consequences might exist afterwards. You could, but he dragged himself away from the thought with the same sort of agony that he had dragged himself from his sister’s grave years before. “That’s enough, mon soleil.” He said hoarsely, his free hand dug into the earth beside him as it slowly had all the life drained out of it to replace his own. Speaking didn’t quite work, so in the end he just pushed her away from his wrist, from himself, long enough to suck more energy from the woods itself so his wound knit itself back together. Her eyes were glazed, still half feral, and he summoned what energy he had in reserve to project some more calm into her once he wasn’t bleeding any longer. He felt winded, worn thin, but she couldn’t stay here.

Or walk well, he noticed once she had gotten unsteadily to her feet. Still in need of blood, of rest, of care, if he wasn’t off his mark. So he shucked off his bloodied shirt to avoid any further temptation, wiping his arm clean of it as well, and then scooped her into his arms for the rest of their walk. “Your place is farther than mine, so we’ll go back to the shop. Run a bath, get us both cleaned up. I don’t have Riley sized clothes, but we’ll...” Isaac said, trying to give her a voice to hold onto in the quiet and a little normality in the storm. Even if he was a little winded by the time they got a block from the shop. The stairs even seemed daunting, which he wasn’t used to, but she had needed the blood and he...needed her. A moment to catch his breath, a kiss to her forehead, and then he climbed them. Events blurred a tad, his actions felt mechanical, but by the time he sat her on the lid of the toilet he felt a little more alive. Together, perhaps. “We can talk about things when you’re ready, but for now let’s get you clean, alright?” He was working through the steps they needed to get through at a snail’s pace, but that was exhaustion and he knew it. Water was run, soap sat on the shelves in the tub wall, and then he looked at Riley, suddenly realizing he was still in the room and she needed to disrobe to take a bath. “Do you um...” He said, cheeks coloring suddenly like a fifteen year old boy at prom. “Do you want me to leave?”

Gimme Shelter | Isaac and Riley

Gimme Shelter | Isaac and Riley

Date: September 22nd, 2020 Time: 10:40 pm Location: Lethe Woods, a mile north of The Threaded Needle

@riley-voss

The shop had closed hours before and they had said their goodbyes, Isaac returning to his apartment the next floor up and Riley brushing off his offer to walk her home with a laugh. She wasn’t wrong, he did make that offer precisely because he wanted an excuse to spend more time with her, but on a deeper level it was out of worry. She was undead and powerful all her own, but last year someone had killed the chief of police with half of the town in attendance. So he worried and he was even more so by the sound of explosions off in the distance, shooting text after text to his brother and getting no response. By the time she had called him, she should have been home, and so it was a surprise to him that he could hear sounds of crickets behind her voice. Her shaking voice, that threw him too. She hadn’t told him much, mainly she had told him where she was (as best she could) and begged him to come. He made a decision to trust that Adam Mallory with his brother, to get him out of the mess, but Riley had begged, cried, all things that made him bolt from his apartment so quickly he forgot to lock the door. Too late for that now, he thought to himself as he ran through the woods as quickly as one could in semi-darkness. She was so small, so well hidden that he ran past her for a moment before he darted back towards her, curled up at the base of a tree. Bloodied, far more battered than he would have expected a vampire to be in any circumstance. Rage began to boil up in the back of his mind, an urge to inflict the same damage and then some on whomever had dared raise a hand to her.

Whomever was a narrow category, it was a special level of reckless to go after someone that well connected, but he kicked the rage aside for now as he crouched beside her. “It’s okay, mon soleil. It’ll be okay, alright? I’m here with you.” He said, his hand curving under her jaw as he looked her in the eyes. She didn’t seem to believe him, not with the pain he could feel radiating off of her in waves with the fear, but he could try. A chunk from her side, multiple wounds to her arms, and...she was going to need to feed immediately to heal those up. Probably before he could even get her halfway home to where she stored her blood supply. Shit. That left one other option, which she wouldn’t like at all and which even gave him pause to offer. Isaac slid into a sitting position beside her, then pulled her gently, oh so gently onto his lap. A vampire wounded bled sluggishly, but they bled, and he knew she hadn’t fed at all during the day today. “Riley, mon trésor. We can talk about what happened when you’re ready, we can talk about all of that, but I think you need to feed or you aren’t going to heal any of this enough for me to move you far.” Isaac looked into her blue eyes, trying to radiate as much calm as possible. “I trust you, do you understand?”

I wanna slay my demons, But I got lots of them, I got lots of them

@yuedais​‌:

Had she spent two centuries looking and never once checked into Niall? It was naive of her to think he had stayed in the Otherlands, that his fingers couldn’t stretch across the distaste to this world and take what was dear to her. She couldn’t stop the tremble in her fingers or the way she was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and the brush of skin, almost fleeting and entirely accidental, was enough to halt everything. She gasped aloud, overwhelmed by the memories flashing through her head, of the emptiness on Niall’s face as he hurt the ones dependent on him and the fear on Isaac – no, on Jinghao, on her son’s face as he cowered. The day that fear turned to protectiveness for the two children standing with him. No, no more, she can’t– and yet, she wasn’t controlling the road map of memories. Her punishment for losing him was to watch every agonizing second. She cried, unsure of where she was in that moment, and they didn’t stop when he yanked away. The contact was brief, only snippets of the life he lived, and yet she couldn’t halt the tears nor could she stop the little gasps coming from her lips. Too much, too much. She blinked, looking up at him. Her son was tall. So tall. She cried more, outraged by the loss all over again, and she swiped angrily at her cheeks. “He wouldn’t know how to be a father if he read all the books on parenting in the world and touched the hearts of a thousand fathers,” she spat, angry and trembling, with fury and with sadness. She tried to swallow it back, eyes locked on his face hungrily, as if she would sooner be hit by a car before she looked away. “Its meant to contain memories, ones that you hold dear. I stole that from my home before you were born, as a vow to keep you and your memories safe. Its tradition in my family.” A fantastic job she did with that, really, when the sight of her seemed to rattle him. She sucked in a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “My name is Yue. I’m your mother.”

Maybe it was the shock, maybe her walls were strong than his now that they had been demolished by his own loss, but he just felt her pain blindly. No specific memories came to mind, just flashes. A keening cry as she crumpled to her knees, the pain she carried from a loss nigh unbearable, and a search thwarted time and time again. It was easier to react to her words than sort through the aftermath of their touch and so he watched her expression screw up into anger blankly, he processed what she was saying with a mute nod. “He didn’t care to be. I was...a tool. A burden. Only useful if I stole enough to pay for his booze, his needs.” Isaac said, realizing belatedly that they were both crying. Tissues weren’t something he carried around, but he patted his pockets anyway. A clean red bandana was the best he could do and he pressed it into her hand. Mother. He didn’t know what to do with that title, with that knowledge. It explained that woman that had burst into Riley’s shop before, accusing him of freezing out his mother as if he had any idea what she was talking about. There was a part of him that wanted to believe her offhand, so accept their similarities in face and the memories that had flitted between them as gospel. A little boy full of longing on a New Orleans street watching children with their own mother, perhaps. He remembered being that boy, but that boy had learned to be wary long before he learned to love. “You must understand, it isn’t...I felt what you felt. Your loss. Your pain, what was taken. I just...I don’t know what to do here.” His arms folded in front his his chest, his shoulders hunched slightly in an old gesture. One that felt safe when all the world was falling around his ears. “He told me I wasn’t wanted. That you didn’t want me. I’m not saying I believe him, I just...I raised myself, my siblings. I was taught to survive, to steal from age four onwards.” A stray thought hit him then and he frowned deeply. “You had a name in your head, when we touched. Not your name. Your son’s. What was it?”

Lose Your Soul | Isaac & Arthur

Date: 09/10/2020 Time: 7:49 pm Location: A parking lot near Irving Square

@arthur-talbot

“I don’t do that kind of work anymore, I had told her that. Getting better about the pilfering thing, the feeling like I’m watched every step I take. But that Odette, you know...” Isaac explained to Arthur as they sat in what he termed his junker car, an elderly looking truck with a camping shell. What most didn’t know was that it was tricked out underneath the hood with a brand new engine and that he lavished attention on it as much as he could. Perfectly innocuous until it wasn’t. “You kinda get where Riley gets that stubbornness, that steely core, talking to her. She’s worse than Katherine even in that regard. But anyway, while I could theoretically pull this off myself, it’s not the smart bet.” Which was why he was sitting here with Arthur, someone he respected as much as he feared the wrath of, given he was dating the man’s foster daughter. Even so, it felt easy to talk to Arthur about this kind of thing. Like one master craftsman to another, though he didn’t have children at home to worry about. Or a wife that would skin Isaac alive if anything happened to her husband. “Now, I know you aren’t in that business anymore either. You’ve got kids, a family. But you’re also Riley’s family. You don’t have to trust me, I won’t ask that of you. Hell, I wouldn’t expect your trust given what I did then.” Now he had to add feelings into the mix, to be candid past his comfort point, and Isaac sighed. Suck it up, buttercup. He looked at Arthur, all sharp lines and dark hair, and looked him straight in the eye. “I would die to protect her, but I think she’s had enough suffering. So my thought is that between the two of us we can make him suffer instead. He deserves it.”

@odettelockhart​‌:

“You have a vast horde at your disposal then,” she said, absently, well aware that they were dancing around a subject that had little to do with petty thievery. When did she stop flinching at things like that, at thieves and murderers? Maybe when she took a life herself or maybe when Lethe decided to flip on its head, both of which changed her. Lethe began crumpling as Riley was brought to her - was that the price of knowing her? Lethe was a child of hers in a way, but… What did Lethe matter compared to Riley? Very little, she was starting to realize! Odette mustered a half smile, gaze flickering to the other room, where she could almost hear Orion’s quiet movements. The faint sounds of the piano drifted out to them and her gaze drifted back to Isaac at his heartfelt words. The truths of it sang to her. “Good,” she said firmly. “I don’t belittle your suffering, or underestimate your bravery. Riley deserves someone who has seen darkness like her and not been tainted by it.” Odette didn’t need to be a lich or even a psychologist to know that Isaac and Riley thought themselves irrevocably ruined by their pasts. Changed, yes, but not ruined. Odette nodded, eyes not quite narrowed, but focused. “You know who Edmund is and what he’s done. You know he won’t leave us alone forever, not if his grudge has lasted this long. You have an in with him that none of us do, can you find him?” She wanted him in front of her - in front of her family - to answer for it. A long time ago Odette had weighed her own morality against her ex-husband’s life and found it a worthwhile trade. It didn’t bother her to make that same check now. “Can you bring him here?”

That was high praise coming from Riley’s mother and he knew it without the benefit of knowing her as well as he might like to in the future. Isaac nodded, eyes wide, and decided that he may as well accept it at face value. Liches could lie, certainly, but Odette didn’t seem to bother with lies when harsh truths could do the same job far more quickly. “Riley deserves the moon and the sun, she deserves anything I could give her and then some. But she seems to have decided that I am enough, and I am...honored to have her regard.” He knew Odette, in her way, was harder than Riley. Fiercer, cold in a way that Riley had never quite hardened herself to, but Odette’s request still caught him by surprise. This was the kind of reckless thing that he had been trying to avoid, that he had promised his brother he wouldn’t do any longer, but it was righteous too, was it not? He could find Edmund in a matter of days if he put his mind to it, and Edmund wasn’t beyond his abilities by any means. You just had to flatter him the right way, lure him to a point, and...ambush him. Not difficult, but something he would have to prepare for thoroughly. “Edmund is piss poor at holding onto confederates, to employees. He thinks very highly of his own abilities and poorly of anyone else’s unless they benefit him.” Isaac mused, leaning back against the side of an armchair with his arms folded in front of his chest. She could read what she wanted into that gesture, most likely she would be right and they were beyond artifice now. “I know what he wants, he was stupid and greedy enough to tell me as much. And he has no way of knowing I can’t deliver his sister to him. Katherine is crafty, Katherine is canny, and Katherine would never concede to meet him far from her territory. So I could tell him that I’ve cultivated ties with her in Lethe, that I could get her to meet us a few miles outside of Lethe.” He had casual contact with Katherine, she had insisted upon it after she heard of his involvement with Riley. So he knew how plausible this was, and to Edmund? It was extremely so. “I assume you want him brought back alive, but do you have any objections to him being bound?”

“It’s impeccable how brutal the truth can be at times. You can only admire it. Usually, we walk around constantly believing ourselves. I’m okay, we say. I’m alright. But sometimes the truth arrives on you, and you can’t get it off. That’s when you realize that sometimes it isn’t even an answer - it’s a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.”

— Markus Zusak, I Am the Messenger

@oliversdawson‌:

Panic takes root quickly when his brother takes the bottle from his hands and turns away. Even when Isaac had been far away and almost entirely unreachable, Oliver had held onto some sort of hope that they’d find each other again. Even as anger simmered and grief boiled over, he knew he would eventually have his brother. That was always the pattern of things. But if Isaac is about to turn his back and close the door, he will have nothing at all. With both siblings lost, he will be unmoored completely, left to drift alone with not even a semblance of what used to make up his world. In this split second, his mind jumps to worst case scenario, as it has so often during these two long years. And, God, he is glad to be proven wrong. So glad, in fact, that something akin to a sob wrenches from his chest at Isaac’s reassurance, at the feeling of warm arms around him. He has his brother, at least. If nothing else, he still has his brother. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Oliver feels bound to urge, anger forgotten in seconds, the grappling hold of grief eased by the embrace of his remaining sibling. And though the rain interrupts, it’s easier to breathe than it has been all day as he enters his brother’s apartment, unable to help a wry smile as he’s tossed a blanket. Funny, the unspoken things. He’s wiped his eyes, settled onto the sofa, and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders by the time Isaac sits in front of him, leaving him feeling impossibly childlike. 

The feeling fades. In fact, as his brother confesses his means of healing, Oliver feels a flash of pride. He’s about to voice it, too, when Isaac goes on. The next words rob him of any sort of smile but it takes him a moment to speak, knowing fair and well that the words he’s about to speak aren’t his own at all. She’s got a way of getting into his head, though, gone as she may be. “Bullshit.” And again, to affirm it: “That’s bullshit, Izzy.” He has to give credit where credit is due, though, and so Oliver sighs and elaborates. “That’s what Abby would’ve said, you know. Me, on the other hand… everything I can come up with is lame in comparison.” Hell if he won’t try, though. “I don’t. Blame you, that is. Don’t blame either of us, even if it’s hell to live without her. Also, you didn’t fuck up. I’ve just… never been very good at being alone. Not your fault.” His shrug is as passive as he hopes his words seem and he feels somehow smaller now than before. A long moment of quiet is allowed in order to listen to the rain before he goes on. “I’ve missed you a lot, that’s true. But you did what you needed to do. Considering how much time you spent putting us before yourself, it’s probably about time.” Oliver is no stranger to his brother’s generosity. That train of thought brings a sudden pang of guilt with it after his previous frustration, even if that feels long gone now. “You didn’t fuck up. Not with Abby, not with me.” 

It didn’t make him feel better, per-say. Oliver’s absolution just felt like an ill fitting shirt, as genuine as it so obviously was. It might sink in with time, as Orion had told him once. You just had to let it lie, let it take its own time to find its way into your mind instead of swiping it away like he had so many times in the past. That went both ways though, and Isaac swatted gently at his baby brother when he started to denigrate himself. “Now that’s some bullshit too, Jun-Seo. I’m proud of you for keeping yourself kind, for not letting the shit we lived through make you hard. And nothing you say is lame.” Isaac said, dragging out Oliver’s birth name to add some serious clout to the situation. It wasn’t something he did often or lightly, but the look on his brother’s face when he did made it clear it hit the mark. Never good at being alone, that was true. At least when Isaac had been working during their childhood, Oliver had Abby to hold onto. Twins were half of your soul, or so he had been told by Abby more than once. So now Oliver was missing half of himself, while Isaac was just missing a sister. One he loved dearly, sure, but not his twin. The sigh he let out then was halting, still damp with tears, but he let it out all the same. Sitting across from Oliver had lost its appeal quickly and hell, he was always cold, so Isaac stood, then plopped onto the sofa.

“Hana never liked being alone either, your maman. Whenever she could get me to, she’d ask me to stay with her. Offer to tell me stories, brush my hair.” Isaac said, moving slightly to the right so that he could put an arm over Oliver’s shoulder. It had been years since they had this kind of brotherly contact and affection. Lost years. Wasted ones, if not for Isaac’s conviction that they had in fact been safer when he kept away, but he didn’t walk that tightrope anymore. Didn’t have to. “You’re more like her than Abby was. I think Abby was what Hana would have wanted to be, more confident and vivacious. But Hana was kind, she was accepting of anyone to a fault. So you’re not lame, Jun-Seo. You’re just your mother’s son.” Isaac could practically anticipate the waterfalls of tears this sharing of memories might inspire in his brother, so he reached over for a tissue box and sat it in Oliver’s lap ahead of time. There was a warmth to being close to his brother again, and an even brighter one than in the past knowing he couldn’t be harmed just for being around him. Not here. Not now. It was almost enough to make him think...well, Oliver wouldn’t want that. Then again, he hadn’t asked. “You wanna know a secret? I don’t much like it either. But it was always safer, being alone.” He paused, rolling the thought around again, then shrugged. What was he going to do, say no? “We could be roommates, if you don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t wanna toot my own horn or anything, but I have the cash to buy us a house. More than that in bullshit I need to sell. Up to you.”

@annya-tsai‌:

Whatever happened to Isaac during his separation from his mother is beyond Annya. She knew only what Yue knew, which meant they didn’t have a whole lot to off of. Through her digging, she found bits and pieces of his past, but nothing to indicate what happened to him during his childhood. Yue’s child had been a ghost in the wind. This is the closest Yue’s ever come to figuring out the truth. Annya’s not giving that up now. “That can’t be true,” she mutters, brow creasing. “If what I think is true, your mother never would have abandoned you, she…Yue has been searching for so long, trying to get her hands on any information she can to find her son. She wouldn’t have abandoned her child.” From what Yue had described to her, it seemed one minute she had a son and the next, she did not. Gone without a trace. Well, maybe until now. If this Isaac Dawson man is who she thinks he is, then they have found Yue’s son. 

 “How dare you speak to me that way,” Annya snaps back, eyes narrowed at the man in front of her. “You’ve been hurt but that’s no way to treat someone who’s only trying to help you. What would your vampire think of such behavior?” Perhaps bringing up Riley is a mistake. No, scratch that. Annya knows it’s a mistake, but she’s angry and frustrated. Their lives, Yue and Isaac’s both, have been so tainted by what happened all these years ago. And now, when they’re at arm’s length from one another, both seem too stubborn or too scared to find out the truth. To reunite. Perhaps it would be best if she minded her own business. But Annya being Annya, she not one to back down so easily. It’s not in her nature. “So you mean to tell me, you don’t care that your mother could be out there? That regardless of the fact that she’s been searching for you, you don’t want to meet her? You don’t even want to know?” Annya asks, sincerity in her voice now as she bags the file, stepping closer the angered fae. “So much anger,” she mutters in Mandarin, shaking her head as she nods to the door. “I don’t intend on leaving, you can stop wasting your energy.” Once she’s said her peace, she’ll leave and that will be that. “How long are you going to let that make your decision for you? Your past, what you have been through? I’ve traveled with Yue for many years now, and she is the best person I know. Please. If she is your mother, just give her a chance. One, that’s all I’m asking.” 

“No, how dare you! How dare you come in here with your bullshit and your assumptions and your fucking file folder like you have any idea who I am. Last time I checked, Madamoiselle No Aura, the dead don’t read minds.” God, he wanted to snatch up her damned folder and shred the thing, run it through the machine in the back office and then burn the pieces. Maybe there were truths in the pages, but more likely there were lies. He didn’t want either, not when he was starting to pull himself together after losing Abby. Help him? He could feel his shoulders tense at the presumption, at the very thought that some stranger slinking into Riley’s shop and yelling could be at all helpful. Again he gestured at the world outside the front door of the shop and again she stopped to snap at him. The Mandarin made him roll his eyes. What was it, the fact that he was clearly only half Chinese that made those who were more think he didn’t know the language? In her case it was probably just habit, but practically everything irked him right now. “Chūqù! Goddamn, how many times do I have to ask you?”

More than he had, apparently. Unfortunately for her, he had learned long ago how to block out the bulk of what someone was saying and he waited a solid minute after she had finished to even look her direction. “Mademoiselle, this isn’t my shop. If I have to call Ms. Meadowes to deal with you I will. And she’d probably bring along her husband, who even I wouldn’t fuck with. You decide.” Not that this woman would likely know why or much of anything about Arthur Talbot, let alone care. She seemed foolhardy and reckless in such a way that made it fairly obvious to Isaac how easily she must have wound up dead. Then again, he might enjoy seeing Cora roll down here like a fury thwarted to ream this woman out. He was going to have to lure her out, by the looks of it. So he stepped out into the street, door slamming shut behind him, and he walked around the side of the building towards his own staircase up to his apartment. If she followed, he could easily climb the balcony to get in and shut the front door before she could get back to it. If she didn’t, well, then he called Cora.

@yuedais​‌:

Unnerving wasn’t the right word. Painful, that fit just as well, because the more she looked at him, the harder it was to breathe. She exhaled loudly, trying to figure out his face and the eerie familiarity to it. Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. A good enough name, but certainly not the one she gave her son. He wasn’t Jinghao. Yue ran a hand through her hair, face falling at this failure, and her reply was fairly quiet and disappointed. “Apologies, you look a lot like– Wait, Dawson, you say?” It was a common name, she knew, and yet… Did she believe in coincidences anymore? “As in… Niall? Are you a relative of his?” A man with the face of her brother and the last name of Niall? Her thoughts raced a mile a minute, ignoring Isaac’s question in favor of solving a riddle two centuries in the making. Then she blinked, her eyes catching on a piece of jade that hung around his neck, falling free from where it hung over his shoulder. The excitement returned, so quickly that she stumbled a little when she walked toward him, hand outstretched. Was it happening? Was this real? Yue swallowed, trying to stuff the hope back down where it couldn’t pinch her, even if it was damn near impossible to smother. She was quite close to him now and if she tried, she could touch the pendant, could see if it was just a cruel coincidence among other cruel coincidences. She didn’t, hands clenched in a fist at her sides and her eyes clocked on the pendant. “Where did you get this? I-I gave my son one, a long time ago.”

“He was my father. Not that he did much parenting.” Isaac didn’t believe in coincidences. You learned not to in his line of work, lest they pile up into a stumbling block or a bomb, or in the worst cases both. So he didn’t like a single bit of this interaction, of the way his father’s name slid off her tongue so easily and the look on her face. The closer she got the more he could feel her emotional landscape and he didn’t much like that either. Fear, surprise, muted joy and...the brush of her hand against his arm was enough to tip him headfirst into that empathy he had mistreated all his life. The scent of sandalwood incense, a soft musical voice singing a lullaby he half remembered, feeling drowsy as he sat nestled on the lap of the woman singing. He felt her pride, her joy, and his own contentedness sitting there in her lap, a child of no more than three. He felt...Isaac stepped back from the woman with a jolt, forcing their brief connection to end. His hand had shot to the pendant around his neck as he stepped away, still reeling, and he could feel tears in his eyes from the force of that memory. Her son. No, that wasn’t acceptable. Couldn’t be right. His mother abandoned him, she didn’t want him, he was a mistake. That was what his father told him as soon as he was old enough to understand, words he drew out like a knife to slash at him whenever he felt the need to draw extra blood. “I always had it. Always, ever since I can remember. He tried to sell it a few times and it always came back to me through...I don’t know, some kind of bad luck magic.” This couldn’t be his mother. This woman ached with pain, with loss. Even if she had dumped him and regretted it, that didn’t explain the depth of her pain. “Who are you? You demanded that from me, so who are you? What are you?”

@oliversdawson‌:

Date: August 14th 2020 Time: 7:40 pm Location: Isaac’s Apartment

This is all happening because he’d woken up strangling himself. Not intentionally, of course, but his hand had been tangled in the chain he wore Abby’s ring on and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Harder than usual, anyway. Since then, his sister has been on his mind so constantly it’s dizzying, a hand absentmindedly rubbing at his throat more than once today though there was no mark left behind. Finishing his work day only made things worse: there’s no longer a distraction to keep his head from spinning. One thought had led to another and now he’s bound down the street with a bottle in hand, open-container laws be damned. (The bottle is still sealed, anyway. It’s not for him.) Once he has found his destination, Oliver has to arm himself with a deep breath before he has the nerve to reach forward and knock on his brother’s apartment door. Words come out with little of his typical hesitation as soon as he hears the sound of the latch, his speech practiced on the way over. “Hi. I’m sorry. I know this is weird. And I know I could’ve done this in a better way. But I can’t stop thinking about Abby. I mean, more than usual, you know? I tried all day at work, but I swear, it feels like she’s behind me. And then when I realize she isn’t, it’s worse. Like someone is standing on my chest. And I just–” He can feel the heat growing on his cheeks, derived from frustration and embarrassment and definitely not worth trying to combat. “I don’t know if I did something to upset you. If I did, I’m really sorry. And maybe I’m a jerk for not knowing what I must’ve done wrong. But I’m also really, really tired of missing my sister and brother. So please, if you have time right now, I just… could really use a sibling to talk to. Oh.” Monologue halted, Oliver remembers the bottle in his hand and holds it out. “Figured, you know, maybe sake’s a good peace offering.”

At first he had excuses. Oliver was safer away from him, probably happier. He had gotten one sibling killed, did he really deserve to be around the other? Therapy had made it fairly obvious these were terrible excuses, it had made him realize he couldn’t hide behind them forever, but still he was..what? Afraid? Maybe. Guilt stricken for a certainty. So he had put off a reunion, he’d buried himself in other work and the company of other people though he knew that Oliver was just a stone’s throw away now that they both lived in Lethe. The thoughts could stay buried most of the time, they stayed under the earth best when he didn’t catch a glimpse of him on the street, but here he was, standing in the doorway looking as toil-worn and miserable as Isaac ever remembered seeing him. There were things he should say, interruptions he could make, but the words stuck in his throat and clearly Oliver had his own to spill. So he let him talk, he let him stand in the doorway of his apartment and felt his shoulders slump with every word. God, he had really fucked up here. Was Oliver safer without him around? Maybe. But clearly he wasn’t happier, and neither was Isaac for that matter. Again he tried for words, but when they didn’t come, he took the bottle from his baby brother’s hands, sat it on a table inside the door, and wrapped Oliver in a hug instead. “No. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Isaac paused, closing his eyes against hot tears growing at the corners of his eyes, and just held his brother for a moment longer. How often had he been surprised by Oliver’s calmness, his sweetness that stood tall despite all the attempts others made to crush it when they were growing up? And here he was now, bringing over expensive sake as if he owed Isaac anything at all. “I...I fucked up. I should have talked to you. I...” Raindrops began to fall from the darkening sky and Isaac sighed, shaking his head as he pulled away from the hug. “Inside, don’t give yourself a cold or something. I’ll never forgive myself.” Oliver was always cold, always the first of the trio to get sick, and he had done enough damage to his life at this point. So he guided his brother inside, gestured for him to take a seat on the sofa, and handed him a throw blanket besides. He could have sat next to him, but instead he dragged an armchair over to sit in front, the better to look at him and be reminded he, at least, was still here. Still alive, though he couldn’t say for sure if he was thriving. It wasn’t his place to say so either. “I’m working with a therapist these days. I’m trying to...I don’t know. Put myself together the right way this time. But I fucked up by not going to you. By thinking you were better off without me. Didn’t I? I can feel it off you, Oliver. And Abby, shit. I thought maybe...I blame myself for what happened to her. So I thought maybe you might too. That I didn’t deserve you.”

@yuedais‌:

Slapping her in the face would be kinder. She hadn’t seen her brother in two centuries and seeing his doppelganger across the street, painting the inn and laughing with the frowning dark-haired girl beside him, was nearly more than she could bear. Yue stopped in the street, one of those risky moves that Annya would scold her about, but her feet have been replaced with bricks and its only the blaring of a car horn that has her hopping back onto the sidewalk nearest him with a swear in Mandarin that drew aghast eyes from people who didn’t know the words but recognized the tone. “They didn’t understand what I said anyway,” she retorted back sharply, jerking her gaze from them back to the man with the familiar eyes. She adjusted her beanie for a moment to think, fussing with the fabric, but already he seemed poised to turn away. No time for it then, she had no way to set about this delicately and she didn’t know what to ask anyway. “You there. Who are you?”

@yuedais​

Isaac had just settled back into the rhythm of painting the inn’s shutters when the car horn blared behind him, making him jump as if he had been shocked at high voltage. That would have been far from an unusual sound anywhere else he had lived in his life, but in Lethe? A car horn, a flutter of movement, and the kind of vile cursing in Mandarin that he hadn’t heard since he was last in Shanghai many years ago. That was a little too much weirdness for him to ignore, and so he sat the brush on the lip of the can, turning around to look at this tiny woman who had just hopped onto the sidewalk. Looking at her sent a shiver down his spine, but he couldn’t even begin to say why. Was it just the way she looked at him? Wide eyed, then squinting as if she was trying to puzzle out something about him. He was pondering that when she began to speak and just about to say something himself when she spat out a question. Who was he? If he had felt even a whiff of ill intentions from her he wouldn’t answer, but there was something...he didn’t know what, just something that struck him about her. Something familiar. “They didn’t, I did. Either way, their windows were up so they didn’t hear anything at all.” No malice, just curiosity and a yearning that he didn’t understand. He wasn’t close enough to read her thoughts, just emotions, but what was she going to do? Hurt him? Unlikely. “Isaac Dawson. Who are you?”