TRP: Azriel and Larkin (Reflection)

**Izzy:**

[Setting: Day 153, Skyport.]

It had been slightly over a month since Azriel had last seen
Eliot, not that he was keeping track. He'd been a little bit delighted by her
note -- she found him interesting or threatening enough to have him followed,
then; how flattering -- and also rather terrified, because it wasn't only
himself who was put in danger by this. He had mentioned his family to her,
offhanded, hoping to draw some information out of her in return, but it hadn't
only not worked, it had presented her with a weakness.

He supposed that if it came down to it, he'd pretend he
didn't actually care for any of them at all, and if it got worse than that,
well -- since moving to Skyport, he'd started learning a few new songs. He
didn't intend to truly be as helpless as he appeared.

He also kept thinking about the fact that she knew where he
lived, and she might have worked out which room was his, and at night his ears
stayed pricked for the sound of tapping at his window. After Candlenight, she'd
said, but -- well, maybe she would turn up earlier --

(And he'd emptied his pockets for that fence to find out
where to send the ring, and the roses, which had been very stupid but he told
himself it was a way of showing her that he knew how to find her, too. He was
dangerous, goddammit. He hadn't just seen the locket ring and thought to
himself, You know who would appreciate this, and become quite obsessed with
figuring out how to get it to her as soon as possible.)

He sat outside the Chipped Teacup, wrapped in striped scarf
and drinking hot chocolate and reading a book about Helm worship he'd picked
up. Mahto had gotten himself in trouble over the thing, so he thought he should
probably do a little research. It was also very helpful for pretending that he
wasn't eagerly awaiting Eliot's arrival -- no, he was just enjoying the crisp
weather, and his warm drink, and his book. Yes.

This was not a date, and he was not dying internally over
the notion of being stood up.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Walking down the avenue to the cafe, Larkin reminded herself
not to expect anything. It'd been weeks since she'd left that note for Azriel
to find and he had not answered yet.

She knew it wasn't because he was dead or injured (not that
this would be a good, only... an explanation) because she'd went to check if he
had left an answer in his window a couple time, always going at night. He'd
been in his bed the last time she was there, a week before Candlenights. And
then there had been the roses...

Her fingers fiddled with the ring in her pocket as she walked,
snapping the locket open and closed. Wondered, whether she should put it on her
finger.

Ah, stupid. Don't go
back to that, Larkin, you've been over that.

Pocket was the best option over putting it on and seeming
too... delighted? Wearing it on a chain was too fucking sentimential,
considering the only non-magic jewlery she wore was from her dad. But leaving
it back at her place seemed too... cold. She'd liked it, afterall. Stuffed it
away after Goro started making fun of her for taking it out again and again on
Candlenights, but kept playing with it in her pocket. Like she was now.

Candlenights, though. Azriel had somehow managed to sniff
out she stayed at the castle, which was impressive in one way but really
fucking concerning in another. She'd have to go have some stern talks with a
few folks after this.

Some of the guys in the Dead End, for one. Wouldn't be hard
for Azriel to find out she had contacts there and after she'd dropped by every
few days to ask if a certain tiefling had left a message, they might assume it
was alright for them to tell on her. Well, damn fucking wrong, guys.

Larkin stopped in her tracks, just around the corner from
the Chipped Teapot. Damn, she'd worked herself into a mood again, which was bad
if she was about to have a date with Azriel. Intel meeting. Provided he showed
up at all. Which she didn't expect.

She stooped to pick up a handful of snow and rubbed it into
her face, to cool herself down. Going after rats could wait. She patted her
face dry with the hem of her hood, composed herself. Frowned. What the hell was
going on with her anyway? She repeated the snow treatment, then forced her
hands to stay out of her pockets.

She rounded the corner, taking a cursory glance around it
beforehand, and walked up to Azriel's table smiling. A small half-smile, not a
big fucking happy one.

"Happy belated Candlenights."

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Azriel was so focused on pretending to focus on the book he
absolutely was not reading that he was, in fact, not paying enough attention to
his surroundings. The place was quite deserted -- everyone with sense was
inside, where it was warm -- so he'd just assumed he would notice the one
person on the street. He'd forgotten her cat-silent feet, somehow.

But he covered for it well, he thought, not jumping in
surprise or automatically reaching for the viol case stashed under his chair.
Just looked up from the book with a charming smile that he hoped wasn't too --
hmm -- sincere? -- and then affected a dramatic, morose expression.

"Well, it wasn't that happy, because I didn't see you,
my love." He snapped the book closed and looked her over. She wasn't
wearing the ring. Ah. Brassy earcuffs, though, which were new -- a gift from
someone else, perhaps. But ... not the ring. He smiled again and waved for her
to sit down.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Ah, there it was again. Alright, alright, she had really
missed that smile. And the sugar sweet flattery, so full of shit. She dropped
the act and let her actual delight show.

"Sorry for making you wait so long but y'know..."
she waved a hand. "Work."

Larkin reached to pull out the chair Azriel had indicated,
then halted. She looked around, frowning. "About waiting, why're you out
here anyway? It's fucking cold. Let's go inside." She nodded towards the
cafe windows spilling soft, warm light out onto the street.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

She grinned at him a little wider, but he honestly still
couldn't quite tell if she found him charming or ridiculous. Either way was
fine, he supposed. He could play it up if it kept making her smile.

He nodded at her waved-off explanation, which wasn't even
surprising -- he had assumed that she way a busy woman, yes, and didn't hold it
against her. The apology was a little surprising. He tried to work out if it
was genuine or just a thing that people said, and couldn't be sure.

"Not as cold as my heart has been without you," he
proclaimed, standing and sweeping over to the cafe door to open it for her (not
forgetting to swing his viol case onto his back, of course, or leaving his hot
chocolate behind), bowing her inside and enjoying her reaction to his
theatrics.

The place was fairly full, but he spotted a small table for
two by the window that had recently been vacated. He linked his arm through
hers to see if she'd let him guide her over to it.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Azriel was really playing it up today. The flattery, holding
doors open, taking arms. Larkin couldn't help roll her eyes for a second before
she caught herself. Wondered whether Azriel was doing this because he realized
she found the act amusing or if he really thought this worked on her.

Anyway, being treated like a lady did not sit right with
Larkin fucking Basha. She slipped her arm out of his hook to unclasp her hood,
pushing past him to aim for the free table at the window.

A pair of young men in fancy winter coats was headed for it
as well. Larkin gave them a scowl before they could reach it, eyes turning
black, and they halted to wrinkle their pretty faces in shock. She smirked at
them and plopped down in a chair.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Ah, yes. Also acceptable, and more what he'd expected,
really.

(He thought about how he'd pushed her towards the wall,
though, and she'd gone with it.)

He followed her obediently and took the seat across from
her, offering a sweet eyelash-batting look to the two well-dressed gentleman
she'd clearly cut off, and slipping his viol under the seat again. He sat up
straighter to catch the eye of the owner -- the adorable old grandmother who
thought he was absolutely precious -- and smiled at her to indicate someone
should come to their table.

Then he propped his elbows on the table casually and leaned
in, chin in his hands, to gaze at her. "How was your Candlenight without
me, then? Dreadful, I should hope."

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"I missed the stream of bullshit." She watched the
pair stalk off for a moment, then directed the smirk at Azriel and cocked her
head. "My folks are full of shit, too, but none of 'em make it sound as
charming as you do."

She leaned back in her chair, one hand relaxed on the table
and the other in her pocket. Snap, click, snap, click.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

He gave her an entirely too sincere grin. "Mm, well,
regrettably I don't know anyone who makes threats with knives as alluring as
you do, either, my love."

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"Oh good. Else I'd have to be worried you'd go
somewhere else for your kicks. Would've had to find something else, then, like
threatening to burn your house down."

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

"Oh, you'd be doing me a favor, honestly." He
leaned back and rolled his eyes and waved a hand vaguely. "It's infested
with other people, you know."

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Larkin tilted her head to the other side and looked out over
the other tables, putting on a mildly interested face. "Oh, yes. I've seen
some of them. Your family?"

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

"Sadly, yes," he told her solemnly. "My
condolences that you've been forced to lay eyes on them as well."

**Jen:**12/23/2018

She chuckled. "Well, y'know, I know some folks who can
help you, for a price. Do it myself if you ask nicely." She winked.
"Might have to do me a favour first, though. Arson's hard work."

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

"They're a stubborn bunch." He shook his head.
"Quite fireproof, unfortunately. Don't think I haven't tried."

That wasn't even a joke. He distinctly remembered using his
rebuke on Abel, once, as a child. It hadn't had much of an effect on him, of
course -- tieflings, and all -- but Gabriel had been somewhat more flammable.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"Well, hit me up if you change your mind," Larkin
said, laying off the playful tone a bit. For a moment there, Azriel got that
distant look, that tell-tale inward turned glance of someone who was
remembering and not just making something up. Whatever the connection to the
people in his house was, it didn't seem to be all sweet harmony.

"Speaking of work, though. We had something we wanted
to-" she broke off and glanced aside at the waiter who'd appeared at their
table to take their orders.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Azriel shook the thought off. Little good to think about
Abel and Gabriel right now. He put on a smile as the waiter came over, waved
off a refill on his hot chocolate. He wondered if Eliot would let him pay for
her order, or if she'd find it insulting. She might threaten him over it. Very
much worth the risk.

He did lay the charm on thickly as he asked for a slice of
the owner's homemade pecan pie, because a good third of the time, they let him
have it for free when he did that, and ratio was rising. Downfall of a
family-run business -- make them think you're part of the family, and they
treat you as such.

After the waiter had left, he turned his smile back to
Eliot, letting it turn slightly more wicked, tilting his head towards the
window. It was on his blind side, which he didn't like, but he'd've liked
having the entire cafe in his blind spot less. Still -- it made him feel a bit
unprotected.

He tapped out a little tune on the table with his
fingernails. It was one of those new ones he'd learned -- a Skyport song, as
brutal and beautiful as its thieves. "Yes. I believe we were talking about
work." He pushed the viol case towards her, underneath the table.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Larkin took close note of how he treated the waiter. That
was a lot of honey to smear around one's mouth. She would feel silly schmoozing
someone like that but apparently, this was Azriel's way of pulling a scam.
Seemed so natural but she could tell it was fake. Still, she made a mental note
to watch out for him trying this on her. The possibility of Azriel pulling some
kind of long con on her was still in the back of her mind.

She leaned in to rest and elbow on the table and let her
other hand fall underneath it almost out of reflex. Her fingertips brushed
against the viol case's handle but she did not pick it up. He'd nudged it
against her foot. Was the blackmail in there? Did he expect her to take a look at
it in here? Well, maybe... on second thought, the cafe was rather full. All the
heads that'd turned to them when they had entered, staring at the tiefling
visitors, had returned to their own tables' business and the waiters didn't
look like they'd be coming their way again any time soon.

"It's been a while," Larkin said and turned her
head to look out over the streets. It was already getting dark again, the
reflection on the windows making it look like there was a second crowd camped
out in the avenue.

"Might have to do some fresh negotiating on the price,
but, uhm..." she halted and blinked, then sat up straight and turned back
to Azriel. Who still sat in his chair. What the hell?

"But, uhm..." Larkin glanced out the window again,
at the window, to confirm. She could indeed see the entire cafe reflected in
the window. It was a large one with clear, high grade glass and the two dozen
lights in the room rendered everything in sharp detail. Everything but Azriel.

"But I guess I can get you your work's money worth. I
guess." She looked back at him, fighting to keep up a blank expression but
feeling it twist into a squint.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

How strange. She kept looking out the window, and it made
him antsy because he couldn't see what she was checking for -- not without
looking overtly, and he hated to do anything overtly. And she kept looking at
him, as well, and it made him feel like he had crumbs on his face, but he
hadn't even eaten anything yet.

He firmly told himself to not look out the window. She might
just be messing with him. He wouldn't put it past her. Made you look. There was
also some possibility that Ba'ob had followed him with him noticing, and she
had just spotted the local feral high elf and accompanying wolf -- her
expression would fit that, too.

"Well, I should hope so," he said, trying to
distract her. "I did do all of this from scratch, after all, considering
you stood me up on our last date. If anything I should be paid more."

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Now this was fucking interesting. Another mystery
surrounding this Azriel, at the same time intriguing and screaming at her to
stay the fuck away. Larkin decided that she did not want to look inside the
case just yet. Later, on her own terms. Her hand under the table returned to
her pocket.

"I'll make sure to bring it up." Her fingers found
the ring again and it helped her put on a pleasant look again. Snap, click,
snap, click.

"Seems like you got by well enough on your own,
though." She pointedly looked him up and down. Well-dressed as always.
"Goin' out to cafes, sending flowers in winter, this little thing
here." She slipped the ring out of her pocked and held it up, grinning.
"Finding me must've cost a bit, too." An educated guess, watching for
a reaction. "You managed to get yourself a job then?"

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Oh. She did have the ring, and she seemed quite happy about
it -- just wasn't wearing it. Well, he wasn't sure what to make of that,
exactly, but it did please him. He had wondered if the ring and the flowers had
found her at all.

"People like me always find our feet and rise to the
top, darling." He gave her his absolute sleaziest smile. "You weren't
worried about me, surely?"

He certainly wasn't going to admit to all the gold he'd given
that fence (it had been damned impossible to get through to the fool; he'd
stubbornly acted like he hadn't known Eliot's name, and made Azriel resort to
describing her). Or all the time he'd spent tracking down a greenhouse growing
red roses this time of year. He was thorough, that was all. He didn't believe
in half-measures.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"Nah. People like you know how to get by. Got a lot of
aces up your sleeve I bet."

Darling. Her smile twitched. Love was charming but darling -
that kept rubbing her the wrong way. Or was it that suddenly, this guy seemed
to be too fucking fishy again? They'd hooked up once and met one time after
that, that didn't really add up with sending her fucking flowers and jewelery
for Candlenights and waiting weeks to show up for a date, sitting outside in
the cold like a loon. It did, however, add up well with someone playing her.
Trying to get close. Finding out where she lived, where her friends lived. And
not having a damn reflection.

Well, Larkin decided and put up her most convincing smile as
the waiter approached their table with a tablet full of cups and plates,
someone would be doing some screaming tonight, one way or the other.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

"I resent the implication that I might cheat at
cards," he said, feigning hurt. He bet she would be a delight to play
cards with. The two of them could -- see who could cheat better -- or they
could go out to the Pinch of Salt, run a scam together. He wondered if she had
the time. Or if she would, any time soon, if not now. He'd feel quite foolish
asking her for another meeting, though. That would definitely make him seem
desperate.

Azriel offered the waiter another smile as he came back with
their order, and waited until he'd gone to organize his silverware just so alongside
his plate and situate his napkin in his lap.

She hadn't taken the viol case. He wondered at that. Clearly
acknowledged it, but declined it. He would take it back -- like she'd taken the
pocketwatch -- but he did really want to get paid for all the work he'd done.
It wasn't easy to blend in, in Skyport, as a tiefling -- the illusion magic
he'd had to employ was becoming quite taxing. And she had gotten shady about
the time payment had come up. It was going to be no fun at all if she'd decided
to cheat him.

He took a bite of pie. Excellent, as usual. He cut another
bite, and offered it to her. "Would you like some?"

**Jen:**12/23/2018

She glanced at the pie, which looked really delicious, but
shook her head. Did not touch the cup of coffee in front of her either.

"You don't? That's too bad. You seem like a good
cheater."

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

He was a bit disappointed that she didn't take the bite, but
covered that up, too, with the usual smile. "I never said I wasn't good at
it."

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"Pff." She waved a hand and leaned back in her
chair. "Can't be good at something you never do."

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Something had gone wrong, here. She wasn't drinking her
coffee, and she was leaning away from him. He wasn't an idiot, he was just -- a
bit unobservant, sometimes. Right now, specifically. For no reason. At all.

Play it off, or dig? He took another bite. She didn't
respond very well to his usual methods, so he dropped them, and flatly asked,
"Have I offended you in some way, Eliot?"(edited)

**Jen:**12/23/2018

Oh, he'd caught on. Azriel without his usual act,
interesting. The change in demeanor was like a mask had slipped off his face.
This was the real one, she bet.

"Offended? No." She leaned forward and let her
left hand fall under the table again, no ring in her fingers this time but a
knife she now laid against the inside of Azriel's thigh. "Hands off the
case," she said quietly, still smiling. "You gonna take another bit,
drink up and then you and I'll go have a chat in private." She hooked her
heel behind the viol case to slide it towards her. Azriel could probably cast
some magic without it but she hoped he'd need his instrument for the more
dangerous spells.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Hm. Hmm. He -- really had no idea what had caused this. She
might just be messing with him, in what appeared to be her usual way, but he
wouldn't bet money on it, much less his own safety.

The facade went back up. He smiled. "Certainly,
darling. I'd follow you anywhere."

Skyport was very different from Moorland, and he had been
acclimating. Living with the others had helped, too -- he found himself being
less skittish, less likely to panic. Still absolutely terrified, because Eliot
was a frankly terrifying person, but he kept smiling, and took the requested
bite, and stared her down over the rim of his mug, as if his heart weren't
about to explode.

Then he pulled away from her knife, carefully, to stand, and
made sure she could see his hands as he reached into his interior coat pocket
to pull out a few gold to drop on the table.

"Shall we, then?"

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"Slowly," Larkin commanded. She took up the viol
case and let him turn towards the exit, watching closely, then slipped the hand
with the knife under his coat and around his waist. Just a normal couple
walking close side by side.

"Go," she said and applied pressure with the blade
to make him move.

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Azriel kept trying to play this cool. He half-smiled,
half-grit his teeth at the knife jabbing into him, and said, "If you
wanted to get close to me, you only had to ask, love," as he headed for
the door.

**Jen:**12/23/2018

"Shut up."

She had him open the door for them and let him go out first,
as they didn't fit through side by side. Outside, she stopped them. Needed a
minute to think. They had to go somewhere private, somewhere she could make
sure they wouldn't be found and he couldn't blast his way out through some kind
of magic shit. Close would also be good. Larkin wasn't in the mood for dragging
a hostage across town.

Dammit, she really hadn't thought this one through, had she?
Moments like this, Larkin could really fucking use a partner. But no, Finch had
ditched her and Goro had decided he'd rather live at that stupid castle with
all those living death traps around. Hours away, out of reach.

Fuck, she needed him.

She coaxed Azriel into walking again just to get them away
from the cafe and the main streets. "There's some things I wanna know,
Azriel, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't make me hurt you."(edited)

**Izzy:**12/23/2018

Azriel smiled faintly. "Yes, I assure you that would be
my preference, as well." Hmm, there was a comment to be made about
acceptable ways in which she could hurt him, but she seemed ... No, best not
to. She wasn't messing with him this time.

Mask. He kept the smile in place as his mind spun. To go a
month without seeing him, and then for this to happen -- he couldn't work out
what had changed. Had he misread her so badly, at the beginning of the date?
She'd seemed genuinely happy to see him. Happy to put a knife in his gut, it
seemed.

Well, fuck Eliot. If his family's enemies back home couldn't
kill him (he touched his cheek absently, the scar that ran through his blind
eye), then she couldn't either.

December 24, 2018

**Jen:**12/24/2018

Larkin led them off the avenue, slowly, both to not appear
suspicious and to give her some more time to think. She'd make a mistake. Fuck.
Let herself be spooked and rushed forward without having a real plan. She
didn't know this part of the city well and had no hideouts nearby. No
associates she could drop down on for a favour. No resources, all on her own.
Shit.

Larkin kept Azriel walking in front of her, poking him
whenever he looked like turning around. Didn't want him to see the way she kept
scanning the area for a hiding spot, for danger or interlopers around. As it
turned out, this neighborhood was all but desserted. Snow had begun to fall
again and in the growing dark, the few people she spotted were hurried
somewhere warm and dry.

Ah, fuck it. She'd do it right here then.

She nudged Azriel into a narrow underpass between two
building's joined roofs. The main street was barely visible from here. This'd
do.

Larkin shoved him against the wall, knife coming up to point
at his throat.

"Alright. Now you gonna tell me exactly who you are,
who you're working for and what you want from me. No bullshit, and no fucking darlings."

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

Azriel swallowed. At the town around the Sanctuary, when
he'd first met her, he remembered his manic fear when he'd realized there was
no one else around them in the street, and what that meant she could do to him.
He'd had his viol in hand, then, though, and he'd chosen to come along with her
on whatever ridiculous adventure she would lead him on. No knives. Well, one
knife. Probably the same one. He just hadn't had it against his throat, at any
point that night.

He was extraordinarily afraid, and also angry, somehow, and
-- hurt? Well, that was frankly absurd. You really hated the ring, then,
darling? he thought about saying, but considered she really might cut his
throat for it, and paled.

"I thought we'd had this talk, love," he said
instead, shortly and acidically. "I'm trying to work for you, if you'll
fucking let me."

**Jen:**12/24/2018

"Yeah, you're pretty interested in getting close to me,
huh?" She showed some teeth, watching for a reaction. Azriel put up an act
but she could tell he was about to piss his pants. Could hear the slight tremor
in his voice, saw too much white showing in his eyes. Nostrils flared. Tense.

She dropped the viol case behind her and took a step closer.
"You showing up in the Dead End... what a coincidence. Never answered to
my note but here you are weeks later, without a question, showing up just as I
asked you. Missed my pretty face, have you?" She snorted. "And then
you go around finding out where the fuck I am on Candlenights. Sending me
gifts. Don't think I don't get the message."

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

"The message?" he said incredulously, the pitch of
his voice rising unattractively. "Mask, woman, yes, such a devious message
I've sent you, with my not standing you up and doing as you tell me and buying
you gifts on your odd Skyport holiday. Absolutely diabolical, to be sure."
His tone turned sarcastic. "Who hurt you, Eliot, for you to think I'd not
miss your lovely face?"

She was definitely going to stab him, at this point, wasn't
she. Hadn't he just been a goddamn fool, thinking he could have a nice time
palling around with a street thief, and not get himself shanked for it. No
viol, no way of reaching the little emergency knife in his boot. If she hurt
him, though, he could rebuke her -- and it might throw her just enough for him
to get out a few bars of one of those raucous Skyport songs. The type that made
things explode.

The sight of blood made him feel quite ill, but he leaned
forward and showed her his own teeth to try to bluff his way through it, and
snarled, "If you're going to threaten me, do a better fucking job,
darling."(edited)

**Jen:**12/24/2018

Her free hand twitched with the desire to punch it into his
face. No bullshit, she'd said, and here he just kept it up.

Except... it didn't seem like he was lying. Oh, on that last
one for sure. His breath came fast and she saw the tension with which he
delivered the bluff. Ready to flinch should she decide he needed some stabbing.

Larkin sneered at him. "And you try and do a better job
at not pissing your pants." Her hand fell to his crotch and she squeezed
until he flinched. "You're not what you seem, Azriel what ever the fuck
your last name is. I really like you, y'know, but I don't trust you one fucking
bit."

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

She unexpectedly did not stab him straight away, and he was
already thinking, I really have to goad her more than that? She may be slightly
less bloodthirsty than anticipated -- which was actually quite interesting, in
its own right -- when she grabbed for him with her other hand instead, and he
yipped in a breath and drew back as much as he could. She was doing this on
purpose. She was screwing with him.

Well, he wasn't enjoying it anymore.

He ground his teeth together. She'd startled him, but not
hurt him -- not physically, and unfortunately he couldn't rebuke her for
emotional harm. (The possibilities, were that an option.) She liked him, did
she? She had a peculiar way of showing it. He recalculated, remembering what
she'd said before about him getting close to her, showing up where she worked
and such -- did she think he was running some sort of long con on her? What in
Mask's name would the point of that be?

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry," he snapped. "Did you
expect full honesty from a thief? No bullshit, love -- if you think my sending
you flowers was part of some master plan of mine, you overestimate your own
worth. Tell me, exactly what will roses and a ring buy me that I haven't gotten
from you already?"

**Jen:**12/24/2018

Larkin burst out laughing. "You think you can cut me
like that? What kinda folks this works on do you hang out with, huh? Fucking
cute." She patted his cheek, then snarled. "No fucking idea what you
want from be but I know what you're trying to do here. I'm a tiefling, too,
honey.“ She'd pulled this trick a dozen times before herself.

Fuck, though, she still didn't know what to do. He wasn't
giving her anything. By all rights, she should just slit his throat and be done
with it. Be on the safe side, leave no loose ends.

Her hand wouldn't do it, though. She didn't want to tie off
this end.

She took a step back, her outstretched arm still holding the
knife, the other hand reaching for her hematite dagger. "One last
chance." She held up the blade to his face, the brightly polished surface
catching even the faint glow from the windows on the main street. "What
d'you see here?"(edited)

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

I'm not trying to cut you, he wanted to snap, I'm trying to
make a damn point. What he wanted from her? For fuck's sake, he thought he'd
made it uncomfortably clear that what he wanted was to give her presents, and
feed her pie, and mercilessly scam unsuspecting rubes with her. He wasn't even
being coy about it, frankly. That was how much he respected her -- enough that
he'd just automatically quit playing games at her expense, and shifted to
playing them with her. He'd really liked her, dammit.

God. And he still did, as well. Infuriating.

And she just kept waving blades at him. "Oh, another
knife," he started venomously, "yes, you're right, surely this one
will make me reveal my dastardly plans to --." Then he stopped. It was a
very shiny knife -- an unusual one, with Infernal script on it -- quite
reflective.

She kept looking out the window. That was when she'd
faltered. It hadn't been out the window, had it -- it hadn't dawned on him,
because he couldn't see, but --

"Mask, you insufferable damn woman -- are you angry at
me because I don't have a reflection?" he demanded. "Is that all? You
could have just asked, in the fucking cafe, you know, like a civilized person
might."

**Jen:**12/24/2018

She scowled at him, lips twisting in a sneer - then flipped
the knife around and punched him in the stomach. He doubled over and she kicked
a leg out from under him to bring him to the ground, face first, and twist his
arm on his back.

"You just can't cut the crap, can you?" Larkin
growled into his ear.

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

The air was knocked out of him, but there was his opening.
He grinned tightly.

It wasn't going to do much to her, but he only needed the
rebuke to distract her for a moment, make her flinch and try to put herself out
in the snow. As she lit up, he managed to squirm and scramble away.

Quick thoughts: Simply running? She had the home advantage;
she'd catch him. Magic, then. One of his new dangerous spells might hurt her,
but not kill her, and she'd only come after him -- possibly his family --
likely with reinforcements. And the alternative of actually killing her made
him feel ... ill. He doubted she would feel the same, but he only wanted her to
stop threatening him, not -- die.

Old standbys it was. Moorland magic. Sleep, fear, darkness,
invisibility. More refined ways of resolving interpersonal issues than simply
jabbing a knife against someone. He was quite a fan of fear, but she seemed the
type who'd be able to throw it off without much trouble.

Plan, then: His voice cracked as he shoved himself upright
and pushed every bit of magic he could into a wordless lullaby. Poor plan; he
immediately felt light-headed. He'd been doing this too much lately, casting
without a focus, and it was taking a toll on him, but he could make a run for
it, collect Jasper and the others from the townhouse, find somewhere new to
hide --

Except that Eliot only wavered in place for a beat --
slightly crisped, no longer on fire -- as the spell utterly failed to render
her unconscious. Mask was not smiling on him today.

Azriel didn't even manage attempting to run. He dropped down
awkwardly into the snow as spots danced in front of his eyes, wiping blood away
from his nose. That had been happening, as well. Casting in ways he wasn't
meant to. It was troubling, but he'd been ignoring it for the sake of the damn
job Eliot had given him.

He glared at her, trying to keep blood from dripping onto
his scarf. "I do hope you're pleased with yourself." His voice shook.
"I've wasted my only chance of getting away, now, because I actually do
fucking like you -- as ludicrous as you seem to find it -- so come on, then,
finish the fucking job, if you can't abide the sound of my voice any
longer."

**Jen:**12/24/2018

Larkin glared at him, shoulders hunched and teeth bared.
Took a step closer. Shook her head to clear is off the tingle of an attempted
spelling and hissed in anger.

More at herself, though, for giving him the opportunity to
rebuke her. This was on her and she was lucky the flames had quenched quickly
on her wet cloak.

Azriel looked worse of. He had dark blood running from his
nose, one hand on his face and supporting himself on the other shakily.

"I should," she said and picked up the daggers
she'd dropped. "I really fucking should." She moved closer still
until she stood over him.

She really, really ought to kill him now. Tried to imagine
it, how easy it'd be. Slide the blade into his heart, up under the ribs at an
angle. Quick and easy, then walk away. Sell his viol and clothes maybe, get
some coin out if it on the side.

Larkin looked down at Azriel and found herself wishing he'd
smile at her again. Wanted his compliments full of shit back, his easy tone
instead of this harsh snarl. And his arms around her. Shit.

I want to work for you. Who hurt you for you to think I'd
not miss your lovely face? I actually do fucking like you.

Fuck, what if it was true? What if he'd been telling the
truth all along and just done it in a way that she'd assumed he was bullshitting
her? He had not... not appeared to be lying. Hiding something, evading her
questions, but... appearing sincere when he'd said all this.

"I don't wanna kill you. It's just, you - " she
hissed in frustrating again. "You're giving me no fucking reason to
believe you."

Except maybe... he had just now?(edited)

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

He tensed as she stepped closer, trying to think --
invisibility (no), shatter (wouldn't be enough) -- he needed to heal himself
but he needed his viol, because he'd only hurt himself more, trying to cast
without it. His head pounded with a migraine and the nosebleed wasn't letting
up, and he was still shielding his scarf from the drops as if that mattered,
with her looming over him.

One boot scraped in the snow, but there was nowhere he could
go. Darkness, maybe -- maybe he could get one more spell out and stumble away,
get far enough to turn invisible and -- no, it might kill him, for all he knew
-- it was a lot of blood, coming out of his head -- but she would certainly
kill him --

Fucking stupid, thinking he could just come to a strange
city, and happen to befriend the first fellow shadow he met. Of course she
would stab him in the back. No, she'd stab him in the front, and tell him she
was doing it, because she was decent like that.

Cantrips, maybe. Some little illusion, or thaumaturgy -- mm,
but she knew he had that sort of magic, and she wouldn't be fooled. He could
try to make her sleep again -- that was an easy spell -- but if giving it
everything he had hadn't done it, then giving it whatever scraps were left over
certainly wouldn't.

She was just staring down at him, after the threat. Deciding
which of his organs to puncture first, no doubt. He bared his teeth -- he'd
bite her, then, he'd leave a mark like his own blind eye and broken horn, and
she wouldn't forget him until Abel and Jasper tracked her down for revenge.

She'd looked so genuinely pleased to see him. And grinned
about the ring. He must be pathetic for falling for it.

He pulled his bloodied hand away to spit what had gotten
past it away from his lips. "What would you have me say, then? Oh, Eliot
--" he put on a mockery of his own voice -- "darling, love, dear,
would you do me the immense favor of meeting me at a charming cafe, you know,
in a safe public place, and giving me the bare minimum intelligence on the job
I've offered to work for you? Oh, no? Oh, it'll be a month, and you're going to
follow me to my home, so that you can threaten my family? Oh, wonderful, yes,
of course."

He coughed wetly. "Oh, Eliot, precious moon, I saw this
ring and thought of you and I simply couldn't wait to give it to you in person,
because goodness knows when the next time that will be, so I've given all my
gold to some unreliable character and spent days wondering if it had found you
at all, and oh, glorious, truly, it has. Perhaps you could keep a fang in it
after I'm dead, to remind you of the time I tried to give you pie, and you
fucking killed me because you didn't fucking know that descendants of Mask
don't cast reflections.

"But by all means!" He threw his hands up, letting
the small gush of blood finally fall onto the black-and-red striped scarf.
"Don't believe me now, Eliot. Why would you, ever, love?"

**Jen:**12/24/2018

Larkin didn't move while he rambled on. Fuck you, she
thought, all I fucking want is one straight answer. But oh no, he had to put up
a show again, this mocking tone like this was her damn fault. Did he think she
wanted fucking endearments? He had even the guts to accuse her of being- ah
shit, okay. Maybe he did have a point there.

She'd been just as cagey and evasive and suspicious as he
had been. Not her damn fault he didn't think to question anything about her,
though. Not her damn fault he was so trusting after meeting her only twice
and... what?

Larkin blinked, not hearing the last thing he said. Azriel
threw up his hands, yelling but she was still stuck on that one word.

"I... what?" She asked incredulously and shifted
her weight onto the hind foot. "Descendant of what?" Larkin stared at
him. Did he think she'd believe something like that now? Did he... was he
fucking serious?(edited)

**Izzy:**12/24/2018

He turned his head and coughed again, aerosolizing flecks of
blood out across the snow. "Oh, yes," he drawled, feeling more than
light-headed -- slightly delirious now. More than slightly. "Skyport
education, isn't it? I'm sure tieflings are just --." He struggled for a
second because he had no idea what Skyport-bound tieflings were taught about
themselves. He couldn't even effectively demean the concept.

Without thinking about it -- just risking it -- he hummed a
little broken tune to try to try to heal himself, so that he could think more
clearly -- but it completely backfired and he gagged and cupped his hand under
his nose again, then gave up and just tilted over to let himself bleed into the
street

He snorted, and couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"Cross my heart and hope to die, Eliot." It faded, though.
"Tieflings -- we're not just demons, you know. We have lineages like anyone
else." The flow was slowing, so he jammed the back of his hand against it
again and sat down heavily to look up at her. "You've ever seen a tiefling
with black antlers? Children of the Maid of Misfortune. One with eyes like a
cat? Descended from some rakshasha. We don't fucking come from nowhere, you
know, and my family came from Mask, who gave us the delightful gift of having
no reflection, and subsequently getting ourselves murdered by --."

He waved at her in vague anger.

"By uneducated, paranoid shadows who -- who -- you
know, I've quite run out of things to say." He slumped to the ground,
giving up. Couldn't even heal himself. He'd only made it worse, and now he
could only focus on not passing out. Although that might be preferable, really.
Just go to sleep before she killed him. Not the worst.

December 25, 2018

**Jen:**12/25/2018

Oh, fuck. Fuck.

She had duly fucked up, hadn't she? Didn't want to kill
Azriel and now he seemed to have done the job himself with - whatever the fuck
was going on with his magic.

Larkin cursed and fumbled to put the daggers away. Only got
the hematite blade into its sheath and dropped the other before going down on
one knee beside Azriel.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Delivered in that acidic tone again but everything else...

"If I'm uneducated, you're fucking naive." She put
a hand on his shoulder, lightly, to see if he would flinch, then pulled him in
to support him against her. "I'm paranoid because it keeps me the fuck
alive, you dumbass." She tilted his head back against her shoulder and
grabbed a handful of snow to put it in the back of his neck. Cool him down,
stop the bleeding.

Shit, that was a lot of blood, though. It slicked her
fingers as she felt for his pulse. Shallow and fast. What on earth had he tried
to do?

**Izzy:**12/25/2018

"I am not naive," he asserted faintly. "I am
stupid. Much simpler."

Because it was very stupid to let her closer, and let her
touch him without baring his teeth again to warn him her off. But he didn't
have it in him to fight back. She was warm -- most tieflings were -- and she
wasn't, at this moment, stabbing him; actually, she seemed to be trying to mind
him instead.

And even through it was stupid, he closed his eyes and
leaned against her. None of his spells would be of much use to him now anyway.
He ran through them in his head and mumbled one tune half-heartedly, magicless
-- the one he'd played and passed on to her, the spell buzzing between their
lips, her grinning down at him after he tried to pilfer that pocket watch and
she put him on his knees.

Yes, he was very stupid, but he had had a very good time
with her. And he had the last time as well. And this time, until -- well. He
couldn't blame her for being paranoid. He supposed he'd given too much too
fast, and rather than it making him look needy it had made him look suspicious.
He liked to think that if he'd been trying to ingratiate himself with her for
some malign reason, he would have done a better job if it.

Unfortunately, he just fucking actually liked her instead.
Positively revolting.

... He liked this part, though.

**Jen:**12/25/2018

"Yeah," Larkin said. She put her hand to his cheek
where it left dark prints, and cradled his head against the crook of her neck.
"You're damn stupid. And I'm not uneducated, I'm fucking stupid,
too."

She had to think of something. Azriel was growing heavier
against her and the bleeding was only marginally slowed. She shook off the
half-melted lump in her hand and packed a hand full of fresh snow against his
head.

Get him somewhere? To a healer, and apothecary... her place?
No, he wouldn't be able to walk that far. Maybe his viol? She glanced over to
where the case lay tilted in the snow. Though, if he'd injured himself using
magic, it could just... turn worse.

"Azriel," she said softly. He wasn't moving. Shit,
hopefully he hadn't passed out. "I'll get you your viol if you promise not
to fry me."

**Izzy:**12/25/2018

"Oh, that would be quite the trick," he said,
"given that it's at my house, not in the case." The case was full of
notes and sketches and floorplans and schedules, several enumerated suggested
plans organized by most brutal to most subtle. No half-measures. He'd -- wanted
to impress her. "No, if you're not going to kill me, you may leave me here
to die." He tried to proclaim it with his usual ridiculous dramatic
flourish, but it didn't come out that way.

He grimaced. She knew where he lived already, and he'd
picked the Chipped Teacup because he walked there for breakfast frequently --
it was nearby, and safe. He had fretted, like a fool, about her seeing the
state of the townhouse inside, the mess it was always in, the dust and cobwebs
he'd never had time to clean out. Furniture gnawed up by wild animals. Mahto
and his new friend never wearing sufficient clothes. Ba'ob, Mask love him, just
being himself.

There had been some thought, in the back of his head, about
shooing them all out, and cleaning up, and inviting her over, some day. How in
keeping with his luck for this have happened instead.

He changed his mind again. "No, you know, if you are
quite done torturing me, just -- take the viol case and I'll make my own
way." As if she would be worried about him, or something like that. He was
bleeding a bit less now. Lying in a dark room would help.

**Jen:**12/25/2018

She snorted. He was too weak to hold his own head up but
wanted to walk home. Yeah, sure. At least he was still keeping up the bullshit,
so unless that was just how he talked (and he'd proven he could do different),
he wouldn't peg out just now.

"Well, maybe I'm not fucking done yet. C'mon." She
shifted out from under him, arms slipping around his shoulders to see if she
could get him to stand up.

**Izzy:**12/25/2018

He wobbled but made it to his feet, tight fists in her
singed cloak. He didn't want to cling onto her, but damned if he seemed to have
any other options. If he were Gabriel, getting close to her would be better --
it'd open the path for some knives and the other horrible things Gabriel to do
to a body. With him, though, it was just a sign of weakness.

She'd definitely see it as such, but he didn't suppose he
could look too terribly much weaker, so he leaned on her as much as he felt
like.

There had to be ... a line here. Something catty to say,
about -- about how she couldn't stay away from him. Or about how if he'd wanted
to hurt her, he would have already.

Azriel held onto her, head spinning a bit, and didn't say
anything.

**Jen:**12/25/2018

Larkin hobbled them forward a few feet to where the viol
case soaked in the snow. She fumbled for it, half crouched and reeling under Azriel's
weight, then struggled to put the strap over her shoulder.

Alright. Plans safe. Now to stop this fucking guy from
bleeding out, whyever the hell she cared.

Azriel's house wasn't too far. Only five minutes on foot,
for a person without a tiefling-sized lump of dead weight clinging to them.

Mask, if that descendant deal hasn't been utter bullshit,
please help me not make your boy faceplant.

"Fuck you, really," she muttered, moving them
along slowly. Her legs were tiring already. What a fun date this was.

"How'd you expect I know all of this gods shit anyway?
This is fucking Skyport, man, 'course I don't know shit. Fuck." Larkin
paused a moment to catch her breath, then ranted on.

"You wanna know what I thought? That you were pulling
some game, some weird long con. Oh, but I'm not fucking worth it anyway, right?
Yeah, well, how am I supposed to know you're not just bad at picking marks. And
don't tell me this doesn't sound suspicious: Some... charming, handsome
tiefling comes along, puts up with my shit, smiles at me, lets me drag him off
to dark corners. Shows up where I work, eager to do dirty work for me, doesn't
question anything about me like he already knows and doesn't have to. Sends me
flowers and trinkets, like he... like he's in love, after we've only met two
fucking times and one of that was a damn hookup. And then he doesn't have a
reflection, like he's not real, just putting up an illusion."

She had to stop again and shift her hold around him.

"So no, I'm not fucking sorry for not trusting
you," she panted and started off once more. "I wanna trust you,
Azriel, I really fucking do but I'm also scared you... of... ugh."

She ran out of breath and took it as her cue to shut her
mouth. She was rambling. Better to safe her strength so she wouldn't collapse
both of them or say any more embarrassing things.

**Izzy:**12/25/2018

He sniffled and looked down at his hand. Blood wasn't
flowing so much, now, not gushing out of his face like a whitecapped river.
Still had the headache, though. He had to stop doing this. Not just the
casting, the -- the dangerous shit. Abel had gotten himself a regular job.
Japser still did mercenary work, which was good for her. Skyport's underbelly
simply hadn't been kind to Azriel; he was too delicate.

He bet he could make great tips at the Teacup, but also,
Mask, what a dreadful bore.

"It isn't my fucking fault that Skyport's public
education is all about Helm," he muttered. "One would have thought
you might look into your own heritage. I don't know." He huffed. "Mask,
Eliot, do you want to hear my horrible plan? The diabolical long con I've been
so maliciously wrapping you up in? Get ready for it, it's a good one -- hear me
out -- I enjoy your fucking company." he gave a theatrical gasp. "I
know! So wicked! I moved to this cesspit of a city and managed to run into the
one person I already knew here. Excuse the clinginess," he spat, then
grumbled, "I haven't asked you to trust me, I'd just prefer you didn't
fucking stab me."

I'm also scared you ... of ... Some other time he'd dig into
that interesting little shred.

**Jen:**12/25/2018

"In case you haven't fucking noticed, I'm helping you
here, not dragging you somewhere the acoustics' better for your screams."
She scowled though he could appreciate it just now. This damn guy. She'd dump
him at his house, make sure he didn't bleed out and fuck off.

"Know enough about my heritage, thanks," she added
under her breath. Renar had made sure she knew all of it, at least concerning
his side of her lineage. The other... there wasn't much Larkin knew about her
mother, admittedly. Her father used to tell Larkin stories of her. Of how they
met on one of his voyages far across the ocean. How he'd caught her eye with
his devilishly good looks, or so he said, then lured her in with promises of
adventures at sea and how she finally fell for his irresistible charme. He'd
tell these stories in ever expanding detail and adorn them with jokes and
gestures.

Larkin hadn't liked them. His eyes had always turned wet.

She stayed silent then, positively out of breath now.
Azriel's mouth was working just fine but his legs weren't much help in carrying
his weight. Thankfully, the next turn brought them to the street his house sat
on. Only a few hundred steps to go.

**Izzy:**12/25/2018

As tempting as it was -- as automatic -- to dig into the low
comment about her heritage, he didn't think she would like it. Might just drop
him here in the snow. Or change her mind about finding better accoustics. She
went quiet after she said it, which gave him a familiar feeling of being
unwilling or unable to talk about one's family. He didn't even want to scrape
it out of her to use later -- he just found her so damned interesting.

He wanted to ask her to come in, and warm up, and let him
make her some coffee. Join him on the settee by the fire. He ... kind of wanted
her to carefully dab the blood off his face, just to see if she could be
gentle, like that. And if she wasn't, he knew he would like about her that too.

Yes. Stupid. He was extremely stupid.

He sniffled, again, against the cold and the now-sluggish
blood. "Honestly, love, I can make it from here. Get the case to your
boss." He tilted his chin towards it. "Get ... back to me tomorrow?
Or whenever is convenient for you, I suppose."

**Jen:**12/25/2018

"And find you frozen in the snow? Nah, thanks. I like
you better alive and warm."

As warm as he'd been on the roof. When she'd gotten him out
of his clothing and ran fingertips down his body. Smooth, warm skin. Pressed
close, shared heat against the chill of the wind.

Love, and this time without the cutting undertone. Fuck, why
did that make her feel so dizzy?

And there was that undeniable sense of disappointment at the
thought of letting go. She should. She should really fuck off now.

But staying sounded so much better.

She could stay for a little longer.

Larkin had hurt him in more than one way, and maybe she
should fucking apologise for that. And if it was only by making sure he lived
through the night. Yeah. If he really wanted to, he could tell her to get lost
after he'd healed himself.

**Izzy:**12/25/2018

He grumbled and hmph'd but didn't put up much more of a
fight. He was feeling better, but still weak-kneed and light-headed, and he
would admit, to himself and no one else, that he didn't really want her to go.
He was getting more mixed messages than an overturned carrier pigeon battery --
first the flirting, then the threats, then the evening on the roof -- then more
flirting, then the cold shoulder for a month, then more threats with more
teeth, and now she was helping him home.

Absolutely inscrutable. People, he found, were puzzles, and
it was his job to solve those puzzles. Eliot was clearly paranoid, yes, and
viciously violent (which he found dreadfully attractive, unfortunately), and
had what appeared to be the same busted moral compass as him. She also had a
way of smiling that was nigh-unbearably sweet, and he was dying to make her do
that more.

The townhouse was dark, from the outside. It wasn't late
enough for everyone to have gone to bed, but there may have been someone sitting
inside with just a small candle lit to read by. He reached towards his inside
pocket, commenting, "Keys," but then paused and just turned the knob.
Unlocked. Ba'ob or Jasper, usually. Mask. Well, house was empty, then.

He hesitated. Stupid question. He was amazingly stupid.
Perhaps he could win a medal for it. "Would you like to come in?"

December 26, 2018

**Jen:**

 No.

"Sure."

I'm not going in there where you can do magic, and I don't
know the layout of the place and where your weird housemates are.

"Why not. "

He was doing it again, drawing her in against all rational
thought.

Mask, stop being so paranoid, she chided herself as she
followed in. He's not telling you to fuck of, he wants you to stay. Fucking
enjoy.

Maybe after he'd gotten his strength back, she could make it
up to him. It was still fairly early, they could go go back to the Chipped
Teacup or... or on second thought, maybe they should find another place.
Somewhere they'd be let in with singed and blood-stained clothes, where it
wouldn't be odd to go through a viol case full of action plans.

**Izzy:**

 He shouldn't be relieved and pleased about that, but he was.

The fire was still burning in the hearth, but low, more of a
smoulder. He almost snapped his fingers, ready to call up little flames to
light it back up, but caught himself in time.

Thoughts: His viol was upstairs, in his bedroom. He should
heal himself, and be able to defend himself. Or he could stoke the fire,
manually. He could ask Eliot to do that while he went through into the kitchen,
to get drinks, and a snack, and a clean towel to wipe down his face. Would she
let him out of her sight? (Did he want her to?) Or he could ask her up to the
bedroom. Perfectly innocently.

No, too risky. Safest plan:

He slipped away from her, moving towards the fire at no
great speed, so that it wouldn't put her on edge. "My family appears to
all be out, luckily." He sat down heavily on the brick fireplace and
prodded the fire, offering it fresh kindling, and looked back to her. "Ah.
I expect you know which room is mine. I can fix myself up if you'd like to get
my viol." He offered a grin. "Or if you prefer me like this, I
suppose I understand. Dangerous, you know. Just deadly."

**Jen:**

 Oh yes, she preferred him like this.

Not the weak and bleeding part but his sly tongue and easy
grin. She returned it without thought.

"If you promise there's no crossbow pointing at me when
I come back down." She winked, disguising the fact she was only half
joking.

It took some forcing herself to turn her back on Azriel. The
urge to keep an eye on him was almost as strong as the urge to settle down next
to him. Larkin returned to the hallway and took a look around. She did know
where Azriel's room was (at least which window belonged to it and on which side
of the house) but if the chance presented itself like this, she might as well
use it to learn the general layout of the house.

Larkin crept around the ground floor, peeking into all the
rooms, making a mental map like Finch had taught her to do (or tried to, at
least). When she was satisfied, she repeated the routine upstairs. Some of the
rooms were locked and she did not take the time to break in. Azriel would
surely get suspicious if she took too long.

When Larkin found his room, she only gave it a cursory
sweep. Not that there was much to find anyway. It looked like someone had taken
great care to make it as nondescript as possible. The most interesting thing
was a safe; sadly, it wasn't one Larkin could crack with the tools she had on
her.

She added it to the list of things to investigate, then
snatched up the viol and returned downstairs.

**Izzy:**

 She was gone for about the amount of time he assumed it
would take to scout the house out. He waited, stoking the fire up, then managed
to get himself up and get a bowl of water and a small towel from the kitchen,
setting them by the fire to warm. He shrugged his coat off and tossed it over
the back of the rocking chair in the corner, then tugged his bloody scarf off,
sighing over it for a second before tossing it away as well.

The floorboards creaked overhead. He and Abel had
investigated the house's sounds thoroughly, testing them, studying them -- he
could tell she'd made it to his bedroom and was on her way back.

He really wanted her to ... be nice to him. Treat him gently
for a moment, and clean the blood off his face. He liked the scary flirting,
but.

I really like you, she'd said. And then she'd punched him in
the gut and twisted his arm around, and he'd been so -- damned powerless, with her
standing over him, knife in hand, darkly agreeing that she should finish him
off. But she hadn't. She'd pulled him against her instead, and done something
like apologizing or offering to trust him that wasn't really quite either of
those things.

When she came back down and offered him the viol, he took it
with a moment of hesitation. "You didn't touch your coffee," he said.
"There's some in the kitchen, if you like." He nodded towards the
doorway. "Warm up before you go. I'll drink some first in case it's
poisoned." He smiled weakly.(edited)

**Jen:**

 "Are you kicking me out now?" Larkin asked
teasingly. "Only let me in so you didn't have to walk the stairs,
huh?"

She did not go to the kitchen, however. The paranoid part of
her mind kept insisting that he was behaving suspiciously, obviously trying to
get her out of the room before he used his magic. She tried to shut it up
but... couldn't quite do it.

Instead, Larkin unhooked the clasp of her hood and slipped
out of it. The wool was sodden with snow and covered in large burnt areas.
Positively ruined. She hung the cloak by the hearth, then turned to look back
at Azriel.

**Izzy:**

 "Never, love." He tried for adamance, but was
again a bit too tired for his normal level of emphasis. It just sounded
sincere, he feared.

(He should try to make her leave. She was dangerous. She
might still have enough of him and shank him -- he couldn't predict her, hadn't
puzzled her out yet. Not much chance of him actually being able to make her do
anything, though, not even with magic, and if she left, then --.)

She took off her cloak, and he eyed it regretfully. There
were spells for repairing things, but he didn't have those spells. Without
saying anything, he lifted the viol up -- comforting, that, just in the
familiarity -- and closed his eyes. Healing first. He'd heal her as well, what
little pain the rebuke might have caused her -- perhaps that would make her
trust him, at least enough to not jump straight to threats and stabbing.

He dragged one long note out of the viol, but couldn't quite
... find it. He knew the song perfectly. His brow furrowed and he tried again,
got three notes in before pain lanced through his head and he nearly dropped
the viol, just managing to set it on the fireplace -- well away from the fire,
of course -- and catch the fresh gout of blood with the back of his hand. It
wasn't as bad, this time, with the aid of the focus, at least.

"Ah." He kept his voice light, which was also how
his head felt, again. "No more magic tonight, I'm afraid. I meant to --
heal you as well, but. I apologize." He leaned against the brick.
"Not for rebuking you in the first place, mind you. You were being
exceedingly rude, you know."(edited)

December 27, 2018

**Jen:**

 Larkin huffed out a bit of air, dismissing the comment. He'd
earned it but she also couldn't blame him. She had seen the hook and still
swallowed the bait.

What an idiot, though. Bleeding again and still trying to
heal her superficial burns. Larkin tilted her head to one side, the corner of
her mouth twitching. Sweet fucking idiot.

"Looks like you're at my mercy, then," she teased
softly, keeping the threat in her voice down to not spook Azriel. He might take
it seriously - which would be fair.

Not that she didn't like getting him on edge - wide eyed and
tense, until he caught himself and started pushing back. The night on the roof.
How he'd caught her arm in the alley, and spun her around into a kiss; a warm
tremble coursed down her spine just remembering it. Yes, she loved the fight.
The was no satisfaction in having the upper hand without it.

Azriel was in no condition to fight right now, though.
Instead, he was giving her something else here. Out of magic, alone and hurt...
she'd had him face down in the dirt less than an hour ago. Azriel was extending
trust to her, much more than would be sensible, and for once, it felt like it
deserved reciprocity instead of ridicule.

Getting closer to him, Larkin moved slowly, not wanting to
catch him unawares as she reached to cup a hand against his jaw. Warm and flushed,
even after the cold outside. She drew her fingertips along his cheek, tracing
the line of the face that made her act so stupid; over the scar splitting one
side of it. The perfect kind of imperfection.

Her resistance broke then. She brushed her thumb down to his
chin, leaving a smear of blood across his lips, then leaned in to kiss it away.

**Izzy:**

 He knew he should move away from her -- and he did, but not
enough to even be perceptible. Possibly, he only meant to, and his body lied
and told that he had, because the mind knew better than to let her get closer,
but the flesh still knew well what it wanted.

And what it wanted was for her to touch his face. What it
wanted was to keep watching the slow, careful way she was moving around him
now, because that was just as fascinating as watching her climb a wall like it
was horizontal, or stalk after him in the snow, still smoking and steaming from
the residual heat, looking at him like he was a mouse and she would slit his
belly with her razor cat teeth.

If he asked her to leave -- he wondered -- actually asked
her, blunt, charmless, afraid -- would she do it? Would she agree, but kill him
first? Would she fuck him again, before she killed him?

He swallowed, and closed his eyes, which was also a very
stupid thing to do, but he was doubling down on the poor decisions tonight, it
seemed. He could taste his own coppery blood when she kissed him, and that
seemed appropriate, somehow.

(When would the others be home? He needed to know for two
very different reasons. First, he needed them to protect him; second, he needed
to be sure they didn't walk in unannounced and interrupt anything.)

Their lips clung together, tacky with blood, when he pulled
away. He'd had all that training in etiquette and manipulation, in twisting any
circumstance to his liking with a few well-placed words -- there were things he
was supposed to say in situations like these.

But there were no situations like this, and again, he found
himself just looking at her, wordless.

**Jen:**

 Larkin licked the rest of the blood off her lips and wiped
at them with the back of her hand for good measure. Damn, she'd missed this.
Kissing Azriel wasn't just good in the way that he knew what he was doing; it
felt different, somehow, from kissing a random stranger she'd picked out to
hook up with on a night of drinking. They were fun, feeding her needs for one
night but this here, this was satisfying a deep rooted hunger. She almost moved
after him again when he drew away.

Instead, she straightened up and took a step backwards. Her
fingers lingered on his cheek for a moment longer before she buried her hands
in her pockets. There was the ring again. She snapped it open and closed.

She’d expected Azriel to say something, deliver some
endearing line, but he kept silent. Not knowing how to fill the silence
herself, Larkin shifted in place a bit. Lowered her head but kept her eyes
fixed on him. Snap, click.

**Izzy:**

 Ask her to come upstairs, he thought, and then, Azriel
Melaine, why are you so intent on dying, you fucking idiot?

She was doing exactly what he'd wanted her to do, though --
being gentle. Being nice to him. And stepping away, which he didn't want, and
looking a bit awkward, which was strangely adorable.

He wanted to ask her things. Innocuous things, nothing about
work, things like do you drink coffee in the mornings and what kind of flowers
do you like and has anyone ever even given you flowers?

"Ah," he tried. "Well. If you don't intend to
leave, you should sit down. The viol case -- I have plans and schematics
inside. I can go over them with you, if you like." That was safe. He
dropped his head and picked the washcloth up, busied himself with dabbing at
his face. His gut still hurt from her fist in it. The ache was ... pleasant.

**Jen:**

 "Oh... yeah sure." She'd all but forgotten about
the plans. Had had a lot of other things on her mind- and it was occupied with
them still.

Larkin debated whether she should push it and just take
another kiss from him. Maybe... he'd want that? Larkin had played with his freaked
reactions before, scaring him on purpose because it amused her. But he'd gone
along with it, so far as to surrender himself to her nacked and umarmed on top
of a building. Azriel seemed to like it when she pushed his boundaries. And
just now, when she'd tried to be gentle... he'd gone quiet. Started talking
about work.

Or maybe it was just because he was still hurt. That was
fine. Larkin could wait (although there was already a tight not forming in her
stomach at the thought of holding off).

"I'll get it."

She retrieved the viol case from where it got dumped on the
floor and put it down in front of Azriel before going to sit on the hearth as
well, on the other side of the firebox.(edited)

**Izzy:**

 Azriel cleared his throat. He gave up on cleaning his face
and shifted the bowl aside, resting the washcloth in it, tinting the water
pink. He dried his nose on his sleeve, since it was already quite ruined
anyway, and moved closer to her, keeping the viol case between them -- not sure
if he actually wanted to do that.

Actually, he definitely didn't want to do that.

What he should do: Pop the case open, show her the hidden
compartment where he'd stashed the best of the intel. She'd like that, he bet.
Secrets. (Hidden compartments; did she like the ring?) And he bet she would be
impressed by all of his work, because he did excellent work, and it was, in
fact, impressive. He would very much like to preen and be complimented and
smug. Get his feet back under him and made snarky comments again and flirt with
her in the usual over-the-top way that made her smirk.

What he did instead: Fidgeted with the case's clasps for a
moment, then set it on the floor beside him and slid closer to her again, close
enough to reach for her hand and hesitate before quite taking it.

He said, "You know, I actually have no fucking interest
in talking about work right now, love. I lied. You bought it. Deceived."
He grinned.

**Jen:**

 Mask, I fucking love you.

She let him take her hand, biting down on her lip to stop
her face from splitting into a huge fucking grin. As if he had heard her
thoughts. Gods, and he was still not drawing back even after how she'd roughed
him up before. Larkin wondered briefly how far that meant he could be pushed
but that was a thought for another day. Better to treat him carefully, like a
lock. They liked to be prodded and tickled, but only one pin at a time.

She drew her feet up on the seat to crouch on all fours then
move closer still.

"And you thought that's what I wanted to get at. Also
deceived, love."

**Izzy:**

 "Darling, I'm under no illusions about what it is you
want to get at." It was either his insides, or into his pants. He was
banking heavily on the latter.

He stayed where he was. They should go upstairs, or -- Mask,
there was a perfectly good floor right here -- or, ah, fuck, his head really
was still killing him, and every time he instinctively wanted to call up a
little magic to sparkle for her, it was like something tugging his brain down
his spine.

Would she laugh at him and hit him again if he asked her to
just --

"So -- did you like the ring?" he asked finally,
cutting himself off. "I would have sent you the standard cyanide capsule
but I worried you might think it some sort of threat, and stab me. Foolish, I
know."

**Jen:**

 "Glad you didn't. Someone else got me poison
already."

Larkin abandoned her four-footed perch to sit with her back
to the fire, shifting away from it as best she could to avoid getting burnt.
Again.

She dug the ring out of her pocket and held it up. Snapped
the mechanism open and closed like she'd been doing all day.

"The drow poison didn't come with flowers, though. That
would've been a funeral invitation." She grinned, then turned the ring in
her fingers a couple times, eyeing it, before slipping it on.

**Izzy:**

 He couldn't help the smug smile when she put the ring on.
He'd thought a locket ring would make an excellent gift for a shady sort like
herself -- she didn't seem the poisoning type, but maybe he could sway her to
more subtle methods. And the anchor -- he wondered if she liked it, but didn't
want to press for compliments. He'd just recalled the almost sad-sweet way
she'd said I have been on a ship once, when he asked if she was a pirate.

He slipped alongside her, hip to hip, leaning away slightly
to prop on his hand. "Mm. Since I didn't send a card, I thought the
flowers would clue you in on who your mystery admirer was. I assumed poison
might muddy the waters -- sounds as though I was right. Is it typical to
receive deadly weapons on Candlenight, or is that just you?"

**Jen:**

 He was getting close again. Really close. A tingling lanced
through her at the touch. God, hopefully they could take this up to a bed soon.
Or stay where they were, only with fewer clothes on.

She gave him a raised eyebrow and a half smile, leaning in.
"Is it typical to send cyanide on Candlenight where you come from or is
that also just you?"

**Izzy:**

 "Oh, we don't have Candlenight, in Moorland." Had
he told her he was from Moorland? He didn't remember. Well, it wouldn't be a
stretch to have already assumed it; she was sharp in more ways than one.
"But yes. Cyanide pill in a locket ring. Perfectly acceptable gift, I'll
have you know. Although I haven't met anyone before who I thought would
appreciate it quite as much as you."

He settled his head on her shoulder before thinking better
of it. She was just terribly warm and comfortable, and the exact right height
for it. Damn. Maybe she'd think it was a joke or something, him cozying up to
her, idly chatting about poison.(edited)

**Jen:**

 Huh, this... was new. The cuddling and the easy talking.
Didn't feel bad- felt pretty fucking good actually- but also off, somehow. Like
they'd just taken a step further and Larkin didn't quite know in what
direction.

She shifted again, the weight of him making sitting in this
position uncomfortable, and slipped the arm pinned between them around his
back. Mask, look at them. Sitting arm in arm before the fireplace . How sappy
was that.

"Sounds like an interesting place, your Moorland,"
she said to keep the conversation up. "Maybe I should visit."

Her hand rested on his waist but she leaned against him a
bit further to slide it down into his pocket and- dammit. Her fingers found
nothing but lints. Keys would've been nice, or something personal she could
shove under his nose later, grinning.

Larkin let out a
little sigh and relocated her hand back to his waist, fingers playing with the
edge of his shirt. Maybe she should slide it underneath there instead. See what
she'd find.(edited)

**Izzy:**

 This was unexpectedly pleasant. He'd thought she might push
him away, and she slipped her arm around him instead, not seeming sure where to
put her hand at first. Charming. He wondered again -- has anyone ever given you
flowers? has anyone ever held you? do you even know if you want them to? -- and
tried to think of something to say that wouldn't betray that thought process.

Moorland. Yes. Home. "You should," he said.
"I believe you'd like it. Extraordinary shady." Mask, he missed it.
"And unlike Skyport, much easier to blend in as a tiefling. Though the
hardship has made you sharper, I expect." Which he enjoyed very much. The
thought of her in Moorland was entertaining, though.

**Jen:**

 Sharper? Maybe. Took some painful lessons to spot a tiefling
hater before they spotted you and thought to start the day by putting a
tar-blood into their rightful place. Learning those lessons had certainly
served her well in other situations, too, but at the same time, she'd have also
liked not having to learn them in the first place.

Moorland, though. A city full of tieflings then? That
sounded... interesting. Apparently there were things about her kind Larkin had
no clue of. Would be nice to go outside Skyport to see some new things. Would
be nice to go somewhere just because she wanted to.

Larkin realized how tense she'd gotten for a moment and
forced her muscles to relax. She stopped fiddling with his shirt and pushed it
up a bit, brushing her fingertips against his skin. So smooth.

"Hmm. I do know
someone who knows someone in Moorland. Maybe I could go pay a visit." She
turned her head a bit, temple pressing against his horn, and took is a whiff of
his hair. Smelled like oil and soap but also faintly of ashes and burnt metal.
"I'd need a tour guide though, to show me the good places."

**Izzy:**

 He tightened reflexively, a little, at her hand slipping
under his shirt. Odd. He'd known she was dangerous the first time they'd met,
and he'd certainly had no problems with her touching him then. It was the time
in Skyport, perhaps, making him wary. Or something else. Some kind of defense
mechanism, just misfiring. He settled. It was nice, really -- a delicate touch.

"Hm, goodness, if only you knew someone who'd grown up
there, and knew all the best spots to watch the crowds from, and all the best
places to hide away." He was drowsy. The warmth of the fire, and the
exhaustion. He wondered again if --. "I could take you to some terribly
nice places, but I suspect you'd prefer the less-nice ones."

**Jen:**

 For a split moment, Azriel went rigid at her touch. Mask,
was he... still expecting her to hurt him? Larkin thought she'd made it clear
to that that was over- for now and the non enjoyable kind anyway.

But then he relaxed and kept talking and Larkin felt
confident to continue caressing his skin.

Her imaginatin still kept jumping ahead in time; the two of
them tangled on a bed or on the floor or still perched by the fire, who even
cared. But this... she brushed her fingers up his side and across the bumps of
the lowest ribs. A low humming sound formed in her throat, a pleased purr. She
wanted to take this further but this cuddling, it made her limbs feel heavy and
want to never move again.

"You're probably right. I'm not a nice person after
all... but I gotta trust you to find some interesting places for us. Interesting
things to do."

**Izzy:**

 "You're certainly not nice," he commented mildly.
"It's strangely charming, you know. I actually quite enjoy it." He
shifted against her, getting more comfortable, which was dangerous. She could
still slip a knife between his ribs, even if for now she seemed more contented
to count them with her fingers.

The people he'd slept with in Moorland had always had soft
fingers, delicate. It hadn't meant they treated him softly -- or that he'd
wanted them to -- but the facade had always been there, of sophistication and
passivity. He'd worked to keep the pads of his fingers soft, to keep up the illusion,
even though it made them ache when he played his viol -- having no armor
against the strings.

Her palms were callused from, he expected, flipping knives
and climbing ropes and scrabbling up bricks, but she was making the effort to
touch him gently, genuinely. That seemed like something that counted for more.
She meant everything she did, did it with precision and definitiveness.

I can think of someone interesting for you to do, he
thought, but it died in his throat.

He wondered if she'd make fun of him or hit him if he asked
her to spend the night with him, and just ... hold him, but he thought that if
he said that aloud he might swallow his fucking tongue and die on the spot.

**Jen:**

 "Do you now?" Larkin grinned into his hair and,
stroking downwards across his ribs, dug her nails into his skin. Not too hard-
just enough for a light scratch.

**Izzy:**

 He twisted away from her nails and closer to her body,
shoving against her like a cat demanding to be petted, smiling as his lips met
her throat. Mask. Carefully, he put his arms around her, steering clear of any
pockets, just pressing his fingers into the shape of her -- all wiry muscle and
bone. Fascinating. He wondered if she was softer when she slept.

"Demented, I know," he murmured. "It's
unfortunate. You may have to lock me up for it."

Oh, there was a thought he should have neither had nor said
aloud to plant into her head.(edited)

**Jen:**

 Azriel moved suddenly, pushing against her and catching her
in his arms. Instead of shoving away or punching him like she'd trained her
reflexes to do, she leaned into it, giggling as his breath and the touch of his
lips tickled her skin. Mask. She'd giggled.

Larkin twisted in his arms, not moving away but bringing her
face against his. Pressing their foreheads together, nosetips brushing against
each other. Her free hand slid to the back of his head to keep him there.

"Don't need any locks," she said with a skewed
grin. "I'm pretty good with knots." Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I can show you."

**Izzy:**

 Oh, that was just fucking delightful -- that laugh. He
wouldn't have guessed she could even make that sound. This was a problem,
Azriel decided, that he was going to rectify. Someone needed to give her
flowers and feed her pie and make her giggle. She deserved that, surely, if she
would let him do it.

But he felt himself flush in something that was
simultaneously alarm and keen interest at her taking him up on the comment
about locking him up. "Ah." He laughed nervously. "Ah. Some --
time when --." Some time when I'm not already completely powerless and at
your mercy? No, that would just give her more ideas. Some time when my siblings
are home to bust into the room if I scream the code word? Horrifyingly pathetic.

He cleared his throat. God, she was attractive when she was
threatening him. "Some other time, perhaps."

**Jen:**

 Oh. Okay. She'd uncovered a bluff there, hadn't she? But he
did seem... interested. Oh, that boy had hidden depths.

Larkin imagined it
for a moment, tying him up. Would be fucking easy to push it right now even, to
give him no other choice. Azriel with his hands bound behind his back, maybe
tied to a chair... ah, but where was the fun in that. She didn't want him to
surrender control, she wanted him to fucking take it so she could delight in
stopping him from doing so.

"Hm. Gotta find another way to be not nice to you then,
huh?" Her nails pricked the skin of his neck again.

**Izzy:**

 He shifted again, half towards her and half away from her,
closing his eyes, smiling. "I don't think you'll find that especially
difficult, love." So she would back down. That was reassuring. He still
put good odds on her stabbing him at some point, but still. "You've done a
fantastic job of it, so far."

December 28, 2018

**Jen:**

 "Ha." She chuckled. "I can think of some good
things, yeah." Chasing across the roofs with him maybe, making him jump
the gaps over the canals and scale up tower walls. That would be fun. He'd be
so terrified.

But there were subtle things, too. She straightened up and
shifted backwards a bit, out of his arms and gaining herself some space.

"Don't think you really want me to, though. You're
afraid of me."

**Izzy:**

 If he lied and said no, he wondered, would she come back? He
didn't really think that even he could sell that lie, though, so he leaned away
as well, propping back up on one hand, and just sounded nonchalant about the
truth. "Oh, yes, fucking terrified. It's troubling, ready. Ten minutes ago
you were threatening me with knives," he said, looking up thoughtfully,
"and now I'm trying to think of ways I could trick you into spending the
night in my bed."

Too much honesty, too bluntly, had a tendency to sound
sarcastic coming out of his lips, he knew. Knowing it meant he could use it to
his advantage.(edited)

**Jen:**

 Makes two of us, buddy. Not that Larkin expected to get hurt
by him- not now, anyway. Azriel had other ways, more subtle ones. He didn't
have to scare her with knives when he'd gotten under her skin. already.

And he was worming his way in deeper while she let him,
didn't she. Even the way he still seemed to misread her. Trick her into it?
Mask. That was cute.

"You know what'd be good bait? You in it." She
grinned and leaned back, appraising him. On second thought... was he just
saying that to make her happy? He'd seemed content with clinging to her until
now, possibly because he still hurt too much for anything else.

**Izzy:**

 "Mm." He nodded, not looking at her, still studying
the ceiling. Cobwebs. He had to get a ladder, get up there and dust them away.
Maybe he'd get Mahto to help him. Or Jasper would just pick him up so he could
reach. She'd probably love that.

Fuck, he was going to say this out loud, with his actual
mouth, wasn't he. "The trick, you see, would be finding some crafty way to
manipulate you into thinking it was your idea in the first place -- to stay
with me within stabbing me or getting anything out of it. I'm only afraid you
may find me too irresistible for it," he said, with dramatic mock sadness.
"It's a curse I bear."

**Jen:**

 "So what you're saying... " Larkin rolled her eyes
and waved her hand in the air. "You can't trick me into thinking it was
all my idea because," she twirled a finger, "it was, in fact, my idea
because of how irresistible I find you?" She snorted and pointed the
finger at him. "You saying you're mad because I'm already doing what you
wanted to manipulate me into doing?"

**Izzy:**

 Azriel thought for a second. "Ah. Yes? No?" He
hesitated. "Listen, I've experienced a head trauma. I don't know what I'm
saying. Have pity on me."(edited)

**Jen:**

 "Nah you fucking don't. Now you want pity from
me?" Larkin smirked and leaned back further, casually resting on her
elbows and rolling her shoulders. "Make up your minds, pretty boy. You
want me do be mean or nice? Should I just fuck off or stay here and pet your
poor head all night?"

**Izzy:**

 She was really going to make him beg, wasn't she? He
considered doing that -- slipping down to his knees in the floor in front of
her and finding whatever sickly sweet words would have the desired effect on
her. There had to be a combination that would work, if he could just figure it
out.

The problem was that if he begged, she would probably just
be into it, and pull his hair and push him down onto the floor. So -- again, he
mixed up his tactics on her, like she was an unusual mark, only he wasn't
thinking of her as a mark at all. He just wasn't sure what existed between mark
and family.

He touched his cheek, where the scar was. "I can't see
out of this eye. If you stay and pet my poor head, you can do it from my blind
spot. How does that strike you, love?"

More information. There was a good chance she had already
noticed his reactions being arrested on one side, and the fact that he kept her
on his right as much as possible -- and the broken horn and light scar itself
were decent indicators themselves, of course. And she didn'tneed more
ammunition against him. But he was offering it to her, owing up to it, handing her
a loaded crossbow and asking her not to shoot him.

**Jen:**

 Oh yes, the eye. She'd noticed it back at the Sanctuary
already. How he turned his head a lot farther than he had to to see something
on his left side and how the pupil had a slight sheen to it. No wonder with
that scar running down from a busted horn all the way to his cheek. Now, there
was a story Larkin would kill for to hear.

"What, so you don't have to look at my face? I thought
you liked it." She kept her tone light and joking but sat up again and
reached out to brush her fingers up his temple and over the broken horn.

If she just asked... would he tell it? Probably not. He'd
deflect or make up a story. But maybe... he did seem to want her to stay and
not just to fuck. Maybe if she did, Azriel would open up a bit. Tell her things
that would explain why he struck her so strange, so shady and so damn
interesting. Some kind of reassurance he really was not pulling a scheme.

**Izzy:**

 He leaned into her hand a bit, but it hadn't been an answer.
Yes, he -- never should have asked. He'd known it was a poor idea, and one she
wouldn't go for, and he had tried it anyway. His mother would be disappointed
in him. His failure.

So he tilted his head back away, but smiled tiredly. He
wanted to bite his tongue out. Nothing he did worked on her. He knew all the
rules, but they were playing different games. He wasn't giving up, though -- he
was no fucking quitter -- he was just, maybe, too tired right now to keep
playing.

"I very much enjoy your face," he said, "but
I did think you might enjoy a better vantage point from which to eventually
stab me, beautiful." He paused. "Though you can always just wait
until I'm asleep, creep in the window, I suppose. It's not as if you need my
help in killing me."

**Jen:**

 "Man." Larkin let her hand fall to her side and
shook her head. "And I thought you were afraid of me putting a knife into
you. Now I stop trying to and you sound like you're talking me into it."

Mask, why wouldn't he stop bringing that up? What did he expect
here? Telling her how he found it charming if she was being rough but backing
off when she complied. Showing fear of her hurting him but continuing to talk
about her stabbing him when she tried to be gentle and harmless. This... didn't
make any damn sense and Larkin felt herself start to lose patience for it.

What even was she still here for? She'd gotten him home
because she kind of owed that... and maybe a bit of wanting to stay around him.
Then she'd stayed for the information he'd promised but Azriel had appeared as
if more interested in getting her out of her clothes.... only even that seemed
unlikely to happen tonight. Fuck. Had she done something wrong? Should she....
just ask?

Mask, if you and your boy are fucking with me, I give in.
You win.

"Did I... uhm, do something? Other than roughing you up
earlier I mean. That was for reasons."

**Izzy:**

 Azriel tensed, and shifted away from her. Had she done
anything? It was as if they were different species from different planes of
existence. And he was -- too drained to be himself. He wished that his brother
were here. He moved further away from her and curled his arms around his ribs,
and turned his head to look away.

"I'm very fucking afraid of you, Eliot. I have --
attempted to charm you, and attempted to make myself useful to you, and scraped
the bottoms of my coffers to send you gifts for a holiday that I don't even
celebrate. I've spent a month collecting data for you and making plans, and
---" he touched the blood he'd missed under his nose -- "it may well
have killed me, and the first time I see you afterwards, you drag me off into
an alleyway and put a knife to me. For ... reasons."

He stopped talking, and thought about everything he had just
said, and rested his face in one hand, covering the eye he could still see out
of so that he wouldn't have to see at all. His voice lowered.

"I'm out of magic. I'm weak, and tired. It's --
horrifying to be in this state, for a spellcaster. I would very much like you
to stay, because perversely, that would make me safer, but I also think that
you should leave, because you may as well be a feral animal whose motives I
can't divine and who might turn on me again at any moment. I'm unclear if we're
playing a game or you actually do wish me harm and would kill me over -- not
having a reflection."

He swallowed. Mask. He was fucking all of this up. He raised
his head again, and looked up up the ceiling again. They needed to move. He
needed to be sure she couldn't find him. He'd wanted to kiss her in the bar,
and in the cafe, and in the snow, and on the hearth, which was a feeling that
hadn't gone away when he'd assumed she was going to kill him.

Maybe that was a gut feeling. Maybe his gut was an idiot.

"I think that you should leave now," he said slowly.
"Take the viol case. And when I have magic again and I'm less helpless and
afraid, I will flirt with you again, because you are quite frankly impossible
to not flirt with. Or you can stay, and do what you want to me, because there
is nothing I can do to prevent you from it."

December 29, 2018

**Jen:**

 Larkin kept silent because there was nothing to say after
this, or maybe too much at once.

Attempted to charm me, attempted to be useful, bought gifts
to attempt... what?

Why all this effort?
What goal was he after? Oh, he'd flirt with her again later. Fucking fantastic.
Try more of that lulling her in for whatever reason. As if she hadn't made it
clear enough that bullshitting didn't work on her. Well, at least this one had
been a direct answer; more or less. Somehow, he wanted her to leave and stay at
the same time but leaving, yes, that was the more sensible choice. They both
saw that.

Larkin got up and retrieved her cloak. Still burnt but dryer
now, at least. She shrugged into it, then turned to get the viol case. Slowly,
because it was still near Azriel and apparently, she was a feral animal that
couldn't be predicted. Might as well sink teeth into his throat, just for the
thrills.

She took a step back, case in hand, and paused. Why did that
needle her so much?

She wasn't irrational. She wasn't unpredictable. Larkin did
things for reasons and if Azriel couldn't figure out how what to do even after
she'd explicitly told him- cut the crap, answer the questions -how the fuck was
she to blame? Sure, she'd taken knives to him, punched him, twisted his arm on
his back and made him helpless - because she, too, was fucking afraid of him.
Hadn't he looked at her? Did he think there was much she could do to defend
herself against a spellcaster if he decided to blast her into oblivion? Getting
the drop on someone and making them think she was more dangerous than some five
feet, hundred pounds pushover had any right to be was her primary defense
mechanism.

Larkin wanted to say it but the words wouldn't leave her
throat. Fuck. She hung the case strap over her shoulder and turned turned,
wordless, to the door. And stopped again there, hand on the knob, to look back
at Azriel.

"If you're so afraid of me, why'd you ask me to come
in?"

**Izzy:**

 Azriel was quiet as she stood and retrieved her cloak and
picked up the viol case. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. He would be
safer if she left, he kept thinking, because she was the reason he was unsafe
in the first place -- why he'd had to burn up all his magic, why his arm and
stomach hurt. It was logical. He was being reasonable. He was defenseless, and
she was a threat. He wouldn't even want to be around Sami, right now, and the
man was a cleric; he wouldn't feel safe around anyone, really, barring his
siblings.

He was cold. Still just as close to the fire as he had been,
but on the tense verge of shivering, feeling intermittent tremors run through
him. The magic starvation, he expected.

When she stopped at the door, he looked up dully. He thought
again about lying, but he didn't have the energy to invent a story -- none of
them would make any sense, anyway, because neither did the truth.

"I'm used to working on a team," he said.
"And my family isn't here to help me. I never used to have spells to
defend myself with, you know, I just focused on helping others, and running
away -- but Skyport extracts a fucking tax. I'm not very good at offensive
magic yet." He rubbed at his eye. "Hardly matters anyway, if I can't
cast at all. But I had hoped that -- if I asked you to come in, you would
protect me. You would be my team, if the chips were down. I believed
that." He still did, foolishly.

And his voice broke a little when he kept being honest, and
said, "And I hoped you would kiss me. And I hoped I would -- find some way
to trick you into spending the night, even once my family returned, and --
well, I didn't want to trick you, I -- hoped you might want just want to ...
stay with me, even if I didn't have anything to offer you."

He laughed weakly. "Mask, at this point I think I would
prefer it if you did kill me rather than let me keep talking, love. This is
fucking dreadful."

**Jen:**

 Larkin didn't reply, well aware that she was staring. She'd
pushed him to tell the truth and now that he had (and she did believe him), she
had no words to say back.

She looked down at the door handle, willing herself to
leave. He'd feel better once she and her knives were gone.

But she did know this feeling, didn't she? The first weeks
without Finch around- the first months, really- had been the worst.

So many years they'd spent as a team and suddenly, she was
alone. Cut off. The person she had relied on the most for support and
protection- gone. Larkin still remembered how she'd sat sobbing all night,
those days when she had still thought Finch dead, and how she couldn't sleep or
be concentrate in their place because her partner wasn't there to help in an
emergency. She had tried to dive right back into work but found herself
constantly questioning her plans and decisions, having the vague feeling that
things would go horribly wrong without Finch's input. Of course, as it turned
out, Larkin was perfectly capable of holding her own, and joining the Ripley's
guild had also helped with that. Still, even now not having a partner had her
feeling vulnerable and somehow... incomplete.

Azriel wasn't in any danger right now, excluding herself,
but Larkin understood what he meant all too well. It was an instinct feeling
that did not listen to rational reasoning, this marked by the fact that he
thought she of all people would keep him safe.

And I hoped you would kiss me.

Mask.

She glanced at him again, slumped on the hearth, looking
drained to the bottom. Ah, fuck. She slid the strap off her shoulder and leaned
the viol case against the wall, then spread her cloak over it. Maybe it would
dry a bit more, until she left. She wouldn't stay the night, only until one of
Azriel's family showed up. Then she'd disappear out of a window or something,
so they wouldn't be tempted to strip her hide. Sensible plan.

"Makin' coffee," she said and turned to the
kitchen.(edited)

**Izzy:**

 He was relieved. He told himself off for it -- reminded
himself that she was dangerous, she was why he was hurt, that his plan was the
most reasonable one even if it felt bad -- it didn't matter how he felt, all
that mattered was what he thought, what he knew.

But he was relieved. He gave one harsh shiver and found
himself relaxing as she disappeared into the kitchen. Casually, as if she
belonged here. It would be nice, maybe, if she did --

Oh, shut up, Azriel.

He took a breath and snorted at himself. Yes, relax because
you told the woman who punched you to leave and she didn't do it. Brilliant. He
was sure he didn't have any choice, because he was, as he'd said, quite
powerless against her. She would do whatever she wanted anyway, so he might as
well not worry about it.

That was -- hm. Comforting. Less to have to take into
consideration.

And coffee sounded ... nice, so he waited for her to come
back and either give him a mug and tell him to drink it, or to have hilariously
disregarded the fact that this was his house, and it was his coffee, and have
not made him a mug at all. He rubbed at his eyes and laughed to himself
quietly.(edited)

**Jen:**

 It took some time figuring out where everything was in this
kitchen. Larkin also had to stirr the stove back to live and, after
unsuccessfully trying to find some prepared coffee power, do a second sweep of
the kitchen for a grinder and grind the beans. The effort did have a calming
effect, though. This up and down game Azriel was playing... asking her in, then
wanting her out, pushing closer, then drawing away. Like he couldn't make up
his damn mind and Larkin was even playing along. Because she liked him.

You've been getting attached to too many people lately. You're
going crazy and it'll kill you.

She watched the water in the tin can starting to simmer and
form bubbles.

Maybe she should prepare a second cup for Azriel? But if he
wanted some he could've said so. Also, she wasn't his nanny. She'd brew him tea
or whatever but he had to ask for it.

The water started boiling and Larkin poured a single cup of
coffee, which she took back into the sitting room. She stopped in the doorway,
leaning against the frame and holding the cup in both hands. Azriel hadn't moved
from the hearth. Fuck, he really looked done.

She cleared her throat. "Maybe you should... lie down
or something. Lock yourself in. I'll hand over my lockpicks if you
want."(edited)

**Izzy:**

 Mask. Yes. That was very reasonable. Maybe he should just
... do that. Just do what she said. It seemed easier than arguing with her, and
trying to make up his mind, and arguing with himself.

And yet.

(And yet he found himself very amused that she had not, in
fact, made him coffee. And yet he still really wanted her to sit with him on
the hearth, and -- he wouldn't pull away this time, except that he knew he
still would, and he shouldn't fucking lead her on. And yet he wanted her to
grumble and agree to follow him to bed, and -- just watch over him, maybe, with
her snowy, dirty boots propped up on his nice desk, or -- ah, fuck.)

"I should. Yes." He sighed. He truly hated saying
things directly. It'd been trained out of him, at some point. Seemed like a
flaw in the training, now. "Eliot, I'm -- very tired, but I --." No,
no, fuck that, he wasn't asking anything else of her. "Thank you. I don't
need to lock you out, but thank you for that, as well."

He pushed himself and slouched the couple of steps to the
nearby couch, collapsing onto it, dropping his head onto the arm, awkwardly
shifting and grabbing for the wadded-up blanket on one cushion. It smelled like
Ba'ob's wolf, which was oddly comforting.

"You can sleep here, if you like. So you don't have to
go back out in the cold." He didn't expect her to, but he felt he should
say it. He smiled faintly, eyes half-closed. "My family has a tendency to
pick up strays. They won't question you." And after a beat, after he'd
closed his eyes and wrapped himself in the blanket, he added, "I'm sorry
for my behavior. I'm just --." He'd already explained himself. Anything
more would be an excuse. "I'm just -- sorry."

**Jen:**

 Larkin hummed, not knowing what to reply. And then, because
it felt right, somehow, said: "Don't be."

She paused in the doorway a moment longer before setting the
cup down on a nearby shelf and going to get the viol case. If she was going to
sit watch here, over this weird guy in a strange house, she might as well do
something productive with her time.

Larkin placed herself on the hearth, in the spot Azriel
abandoned before. He already looked out cold. She took a sip of coffee,
watching, debating.

She should do it. He was already... extending so much trust
to her. She would've never gone to sleep in his presence after what happened
earlier and yet he did. She could do him this litte curtesy. If he was truly
after her, which seemed more and more unlikely, this was something he'd know
already anyway. Low risk, like him telling her about his eye.

"Hey, Azriel," she tried.

**Izzy:**

 Azriel stirred, one eye cracking open. "Mm?"

**Jen:**

 "My name's not Eliot. It's Larkin."

**Izzy:**

 "Oh, fuck you," he mumbled, closing his eyes
again. "Fucking Esperance. I knew that that bullshit."

Larkin. He liked that. Maybe she was messing with him again,
for the laughs, but he hoped not -- because he did really like that.

**Jen:**

 [END] Title: "Reflection". Summary: Arziel and
Larkin meet again for their rescheduled date. The meeting gets out of hand
because of Local Idiots not trusting each other. It is revealed that Azriel is
a descendant of Mask. He overextends his magic and Larkin helps him home. They
somewhat gain more trust in each other.(edited)

December 30, 2018