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Mar. 17th, 2011 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexanderwhiteIt was the autumn of 1964 that I returned south for a week. the Society had pulled strings with a few big names to do as I had suggested and gain possession of the books that meant much to the Guild. With the translations I provided to them, and copies of the artwork, they were more than happy to hand over the books proper, without asking for copies of the fronts or backs of the covers. I was comfortable with that. Whatever the Thieves Guild had wanted to do with them other than protect their history and learn from it, they couldn't do it without those sigils.
Patricia had phoned that she wanted to give me the books herself, and for me to meet the man that had relinquished control of them, the man who was the leader of the Thieves Guild, Jean-Luc LeBeau. She had invited me to the stately mansion of the Thieves, known simply as Guildhall. I walked up the stone path to the front porch, and used the knocker, and waited only briefly for an answer, before an older man came to the door, silently beckoning for me to come in. He guided me to a meeting room with a stately, staunch table surrounded by heavy hardwood armchairs, and in it was both of the people I'd come to see. Patricia had worn a short black skirt and a cable-knit black sweater, her hair up in a professional bun, her lips were painted a dark rose color, and her eyeshadow was darker than usual. She looked exquisite. Jean-Luc was a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair which was becoming silver at his temples. before him, he had the three books. "Good evening," he said to me in a heavy accent, sounding like he came from eastern France, nodding to the man at the door to close the door behind me. Patricia took a seat, and he and I followed suit.
"Patricia has said that you've been a saint to help translating these from their old French into English, and for that, I am extremely grateful. She herself has been a pleasant connection to make in this time. Do you assure that your translation is correct, Mr. Essen?" Mr. LeBeau asked.
"I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that everything is a hundred percent accurate, down to the turns of phrase that don't exist in the English tongue, which I wrote out literally with footnotes," I assured, smiling over to the man, then to Patricia. "Patricia promised me that this would be a quick collaboration with your Guild, sir, because although I trust that you are a man of strong character and even stronger moral - albeit not legal moral - I would not trust your Guild not to fuss with things that would get your men, women, and her harmed. Demons are dangerous, every single one of us, and if we are scorned in the way that your old texts wish to scorn us, not a single one of us would hesitate to drive a blade deep into the heart of this establishment, this um, family, if you will. I warn you, Mr. LeBeau, don't attempt any rite written in there that invokes my kind."
"I assure you, Mr. Essen," Mr. LeBeau said with a smooth smile, grinning at me like a cat who'd been at the cream. I could tell that whatever relationship he had with my Patricia was far from strictly professional, but I had to keep myself in check, "That the Guild will do no such thing. Miss Stevens," he said as he gathered up the books and handed them over to her, "Please take good care of these." She then handed them to me, smiling, albeit in a guilty way. I took the books and sent them to my apartment in Manhattan with a thought. "I assure you that they'll be taken care of greatly," I said under my breath. "Patricia, as well. Come with me, my dearest," I said as I stood, and took her hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. LeBeau. I will hope that it is the only time I do, as should you." That said, I whisked her off to New York with me.
"You fucked that blowhard?" I hissed, my grip on her hand becoming firm enough where I felt her bones grind together. She whimpered an apology and I threw her against the couch, where she fell onto the cushions, clutching her hand near her chest. I picked up the book that vexed me deeply, "All for these? Why? Why would you do such a fucking callous thing? Does my love mean nothing to you?"
"I-I," Patricia started in a stammer, shaking her head swiftly, "I needed to get them from him, they could have used it against your kind, against you. I did it to save you, Alexander, I--"
"I don't want to hear it!" I spat back, tossing the book across the room, where it crashed against a wall, taking a picture frame and a vase down with it, shattering the glass of both. "You betrayed my love for you, and no book is worth that, no threat upon me or any of my kind is worth that!" My voice went dual toned then, "You could never understand how rare, how precious that is, Patricia! How could you? You are finite! I have fallen in love only ONCE before this, and I killed dozens for her, before I was exiled! What must I do for you that I can prove my love worthy?"
She was crying by now, and dabbed at her running mascara with a handkerchief that she'd produced from her purse. "I do not know, Al, I... I just wish that I could stay with you for my life. I'm so sorry, I thought you would feel... feel more at ease that the Society would have control of the books, that they couldn't be used to entrap any demon to make them mortal. I'm sorry, please understand, I didn't mean to upset you, if I could have gotten them any other way, I would have, but that was his only offer. And I'm good, but I'm not good enough to steal from the Thieves." She looked straight up at me and shook her head. "Asmodeus, I'm so sorry." It softened my heart, to see her so repentant, to see her so fragile and gentle as she was just then. I ran a hand through my hair and slipped down to sit beside her.
"Shh," I whispered, taking her handkerchief to wipe away the runs in her makeup, to dry her cheeks. "I didn't mean to frighten you, sweetheart. What you did was noble, but stupid. I love you, that won't change for this, just promise me not to speak to him again," I caressed her cheek gently, before pressing a kiss to those perfectly pouting lips. "I would do anything for your fidelity, to have you as mine alone."
She laughed softly through her choking tears, and shook her head, whispering, "I bet you say that to all the girls," before she turned to kiss me more firmly, her hands around my shoulders. I picked her up easily and carried her into my bedroom.
"Only all the pretty ones," I joked right back, closing the door behind us.
I rarely sleep, but when I do, it's only an hour or two. What can I say? Hunters are hellcats in bed. She had fallen asleep before I did, and I had watched her sleep quietly and lightly for an hour, playing with her beautiful hair, ran my hand over her curvy, soft form, before drifting off, myself. When I woke up, however, Patricia was gone. I slipped out of bed, and went looking for her in my loft. She hadn't stayed, nor did she take any of the books. I figured she had taken the first train back down south. So I sent a dozen chocolates to her coffee table, and cleaned up after my small temper tantrum, before bringing the books to the office.
---
It was November, the next time I saw her. It was my month of power. My 'birthday', if you will, when I had a buzz from the doorman. "A miss Stevens to see you, sir," he said, as I listened, and I hopped up to press the intercom button. "Please escort her up." I put my hair back, unlocked the door, and went to my kitchen to get the wine.
"Al? Are you here, sugar?" She asked as she stepped in, setting down the umbrella she'd used in the freezing rain outside. I grinned, "Of course I am, would the doorman have let you up if I hadn't been?" I walked down with the two glasses of wine, handing one to her. "This is unexpected indeed, Mr. Lewis said you'd put in your two weeks a month ago, but you never brought it up in our phone conversations."
"Oh, I decided to freelance. They have more experienced hunters," Patricia said with a nod of thanks for the wine, settling into her usual spot on the couch, her legs folded under her, with her shoes on the floor. "I'm not much of a team player, to tell you the truth."
"Gosh, I couldn't fuckin' tell. You see me on and off, that's got to be against some sort of hunter code. And you have better legs than the majority of hunters I've met, that probably doesn't win you any brownie points with the plain-jane stakey brigade," I teased, running my hand over her leg. That got a laugh from her and she stretched that leg out to tease her toes over my thigh.
"I'm here to spend more time with you, Al," she admitted, "but I have a quick favor to ask. I didn't pack a single thing, because I know you, you can travel instantaneously anywhere. All I ask is that you get my clothes for me? And maybe a couple of my things over there?" She batted her lashes jokingly, "For little ol' me?"
"For li'l ol' you," I mocked back, squeezing her thigh, "I can do that. Would you like to come along and pick those things out?"
"Mm, that'd probably be best. Want to get to that right now?" She asked, setting her glass of wine aside.
I nodded and held her hand. "Of course," I confirmed smoothly, then stood and helped her to her feet.
That was then I transported us back to her home. And found myself trapped in a devil's trap that was strong and vibrating so quickly that I couldn't break free. I winced as I tried to take her hand again to have her pull me out. "Careful," she said as she stepped away, watching as my hair came undone from its tie, flying like fire around me, "you told me that this rite was extremely painful to your kind. Are you all right? Not in as much pain, I hope?"
Oh fuck her, fuck that little whore. She'd drawn this trap on the floor of her living room and knowingly lured me here. I growled at her and my eyes glowed blue.
"Oh good," she said with a curt nod. And then she picked up the book, the same fucking book that I had warned the Society about, the one that I had demanded to be destroyed, in the hopes that this VERY thing would not happen, and started reading a spell to put me to sleep. As true and real as that was, I couldn't help but drift off into unconsciousness.
But that was only the beginning of my personal fucking Hell.
Patricia had phoned that she wanted to give me the books herself, and for me to meet the man that had relinquished control of them, the man who was the leader of the Thieves Guild, Jean-Luc LeBeau. She had invited me to the stately mansion of the Thieves, known simply as Guildhall. I walked up the stone path to the front porch, and used the knocker, and waited only briefly for an answer, before an older man came to the door, silently beckoning for me to come in. He guided me to a meeting room with a stately, staunch table surrounded by heavy hardwood armchairs, and in it was both of the people I'd come to see. Patricia had worn a short black skirt and a cable-knit black sweater, her hair up in a professional bun, her lips were painted a dark rose color, and her eyeshadow was darker than usual. She looked exquisite. Jean-Luc was a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair which was becoming silver at his temples. before him, he had the three books. "Good evening," he said to me in a heavy accent, sounding like he came from eastern France, nodding to the man at the door to close the door behind me. Patricia took a seat, and he and I followed suit.
"Patricia has said that you've been a saint to help translating these from their old French into English, and for that, I am extremely grateful. She herself has been a pleasant connection to make in this time. Do you assure that your translation is correct, Mr. Essen?" Mr. LeBeau asked.
"I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that everything is a hundred percent accurate, down to the turns of phrase that don't exist in the English tongue, which I wrote out literally with footnotes," I assured, smiling over to the man, then to Patricia. "Patricia promised me that this would be a quick collaboration with your Guild, sir, because although I trust that you are a man of strong character and even stronger moral - albeit not legal moral - I would not trust your Guild not to fuss with things that would get your men, women, and her harmed. Demons are dangerous, every single one of us, and if we are scorned in the way that your old texts wish to scorn us, not a single one of us would hesitate to drive a blade deep into the heart of this establishment, this um, family, if you will. I warn you, Mr. LeBeau, don't attempt any rite written in there that invokes my kind."
"I assure you, Mr. Essen," Mr. LeBeau said with a smooth smile, grinning at me like a cat who'd been at the cream. I could tell that whatever relationship he had with my Patricia was far from strictly professional, but I had to keep myself in check, "That the Guild will do no such thing. Miss Stevens," he said as he gathered up the books and handed them over to her, "Please take good care of these." She then handed them to me, smiling, albeit in a guilty way. I took the books and sent them to my apartment in Manhattan with a thought. "I assure you that they'll be taken care of greatly," I said under my breath. "Patricia, as well. Come with me, my dearest," I said as I stood, and took her hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. LeBeau. I will hope that it is the only time I do, as should you." That said, I whisked her off to New York with me.
"You fucked that blowhard?" I hissed, my grip on her hand becoming firm enough where I felt her bones grind together. She whimpered an apology and I threw her against the couch, where she fell onto the cushions, clutching her hand near her chest. I picked up the book that vexed me deeply, "All for these? Why? Why would you do such a fucking callous thing? Does my love mean nothing to you?"
"I-I," Patricia started in a stammer, shaking her head swiftly, "I needed to get them from him, they could have used it against your kind, against you. I did it to save you, Alexander, I--"
"I don't want to hear it!" I spat back, tossing the book across the room, where it crashed against a wall, taking a picture frame and a vase down with it, shattering the glass of both. "You betrayed my love for you, and no book is worth that, no threat upon me or any of my kind is worth that!" My voice went dual toned then, "You could never understand how rare, how precious that is, Patricia! How could you? You are finite! I have fallen in love only ONCE before this, and I killed dozens for her, before I was exiled! What must I do for you that I can prove my love worthy?"
She was crying by now, and dabbed at her running mascara with a handkerchief that she'd produced from her purse. "I do not know, Al, I... I just wish that I could stay with you for my life. I'm so sorry, I thought you would feel... feel more at ease that the Society would have control of the books, that they couldn't be used to entrap any demon to make them mortal. I'm sorry, please understand, I didn't mean to upset you, if I could have gotten them any other way, I would have, but that was his only offer. And I'm good, but I'm not good enough to steal from the Thieves." She looked straight up at me and shook her head. "Asmodeus, I'm so sorry." It softened my heart, to see her so repentant, to see her so fragile and gentle as she was just then. I ran a hand through my hair and slipped down to sit beside her.
"Shh," I whispered, taking her handkerchief to wipe away the runs in her makeup, to dry her cheeks. "I didn't mean to frighten you, sweetheart. What you did was noble, but stupid. I love you, that won't change for this, just promise me not to speak to him again," I caressed her cheek gently, before pressing a kiss to those perfectly pouting lips. "I would do anything for your fidelity, to have you as mine alone."
She laughed softly through her choking tears, and shook her head, whispering, "I bet you say that to all the girls," before she turned to kiss me more firmly, her hands around my shoulders. I picked her up easily and carried her into my bedroom.
"Only all the pretty ones," I joked right back, closing the door behind us.
I rarely sleep, but when I do, it's only an hour or two. What can I say? Hunters are hellcats in bed. She had fallen asleep before I did, and I had watched her sleep quietly and lightly for an hour, playing with her beautiful hair, ran my hand over her curvy, soft form, before drifting off, myself. When I woke up, however, Patricia was gone. I slipped out of bed, and went looking for her in my loft. She hadn't stayed, nor did she take any of the books. I figured she had taken the first train back down south. So I sent a dozen chocolates to her coffee table, and cleaned up after my small temper tantrum, before bringing the books to the office.
---
It was November, the next time I saw her. It was my month of power. My 'birthday', if you will, when I had a buzz from the doorman. "A miss Stevens to see you, sir," he said, as I listened, and I hopped up to press the intercom button. "Please escort her up." I put my hair back, unlocked the door, and went to my kitchen to get the wine.
"Al? Are you here, sugar?" She asked as she stepped in, setting down the umbrella she'd used in the freezing rain outside. I grinned, "Of course I am, would the doorman have let you up if I hadn't been?" I walked down with the two glasses of wine, handing one to her. "This is unexpected indeed, Mr. Lewis said you'd put in your two weeks a month ago, but you never brought it up in our phone conversations."
"Oh, I decided to freelance. They have more experienced hunters," Patricia said with a nod of thanks for the wine, settling into her usual spot on the couch, her legs folded under her, with her shoes on the floor. "I'm not much of a team player, to tell you the truth."
"Gosh, I couldn't fuckin' tell. You see me on and off, that's got to be against some sort of hunter code. And you have better legs than the majority of hunters I've met, that probably doesn't win you any brownie points with the plain-jane stakey brigade," I teased, running my hand over her leg. That got a laugh from her and she stretched that leg out to tease her toes over my thigh.
"I'm here to spend more time with you, Al," she admitted, "but I have a quick favor to ask. I didn't pack a single thing, because I know you, you can travel instantaneously anywhere. All I ask is that you get my clothes for me? And maybe a couple of my things over there?" She batted her lashes jokingly, "For little ol' me?"
"For li'l ol' you," I mocked back, squeezing her thigh, "I can do that. Would you like to come along and pick those things out?"
"Mm, that'd probably be best. Want to get to that right now?" She asked, setting her glass of wine aside.
I nodded and held her hand. "Of course," I confirmed smoothly, then stood and helped her to her feet.
That was then I transported us back to her home. And found myself trapped in a devil's trap that was strong and vibrating so quickly that I couldn't break free. I winced as I tried to take her hand again to have her pull me out. "Careful," she said as she stepped away, watching as my hair came undone from its tie, flying like fire around me, "you told me that this rite was extremely painful to your kind. Are you all right? Not in as much pain, I hope?"
Oh fuck her, fuck that little whore. She'd drawn this trap on the floor of her living room and knowingly lured me here. I growled at her and my eyes glowed blue.
"Oh good," she said with a curt nod. And then she picked up the book, the same fucking book that I had warned the Society about, the one that I had demanded to be destroyed, in the hopes that this VERY thing would not happen, and started reading a spell to put me to sleep. As true and real as that was, I couldn't help but drift off into unconsciousness.
But that was only the beginning of my personal fucking Hell.
