11 February 2016
"Trust me onnit, ye wanna be gettin' outta there at least fer a bit b'fore ye all go stir crazy." As if they hadn't already, the werewolf's beer dripping slur was meant as a less than subtle suggestion that bordered on insistence. "There's food innit fer ye, whoever comes. An' darts. An' beer. Or liquor, whatever'll keep the two'a ya from rippin' out each other's throats." The more she talked, the more she insisted, dragging out the conversation as she walked alongside Will down the streets of Dragon's Gate.
"Fine. Fine, fine, fine," Nica's exasperation was readily evident as she muttered into her phone. Her hair was a wreck and her makeup a smeared mess but the hastily etched iratzes, plural, were enough to handle any other obvious signs of distress. The room was a disaster, as if it had been ripped apart by a rampaging rhino while being swept away by the tornado. As she hung up the phone, she tucked it away and went to pound on the door adjoining her room to the other. "Get your shit together, we're going out. Niamh wants us to meet her for drinks and darts."
It was thankfully only a three block walk but it was spent in silence with no less than six feet of space between them as they walked. Tall and taller, the two Nephilim were a matched pair in black from throat to toe and an eerily similar gait that spoke of a warrior's readiness. Uncanny in posture and even in surliness, Nica and Daniel arrived sans Lidia at Niamh's declared neutral ground and promptly took up their separate spaces while they awaited Niamh, and unbeknownst to Daniel, Will.
Will listened to the one-sided conversation in respectful silence, as he had nothing useful to add to the gael's words and tried valiantly to pretend he didn't want to say anything. When Niamh finally hung up the phone, the sidelong smile delivered her way was sincere, if not muted. The companionable silence that followed was blessed the minutes eaten up by the sounds of their breathing in the cold air sometimes warring with the ambient sounds of one of the city's busier districts.
By the time they arrived, the paramedic was more interested in something hot to drink than something alcoholic, but had resigned himself to the latter for the sake of sociability. The smile was Nicanora was instant, a full curve of his mouth that was as cheeky as it was sincere, the later brightening deep lapis blue eyes and making small wrinkles in the skin at the corners. When he turned it on Daniel, it was no less amiable, though there was some tentative expectation that it wouldn't be reciprocated. "Alright, troops. I got grub from Juana Burrito. Wasn't sure who's got the delicate stomach, so there's a little for every palate in the bag."
Close proximity to the female Nephilim was sought out, though he didn't immediately seek physical contact.
As if a gauge of the mood, neither smile was returned. Not from Nica nor from Daniel. Though her frown lessened for the paramedic at the very least, she didn't quite have it in her to summon a smile. Save for the faint shimmer of lip balm, she had gone makeupless, wiped clean after the less than pleasant argument with Daniel that had inevitably ended in tears and running mascara. Not even the fun sort either, because such a thing existed. She was the picture of wary neutrality, her attention swinging like a pendulum between the two men. Niamh set them up with pitchers and any other alcohol they might've wanted before setting in on another burrito. Nica joined her momentarily after, crinkling foil with each peel.
"Will, this is Daniel Blackwater. Daniel, this is Will. You've both heard about one another but now you've got faces to the names," Nica said over top of the untouched burrito then took a large bite out of it, teeth chomping hard. It wasn't an introduction she was keen on making, not after the past few days, but it was overdue. Niamh had been right on that much.
"Mmh. Charmed." Daniel said dryly, extending his right hand to the EMT. The back of said hand was emblazoned with the same bold eye as Nica's left and his accent spoke vaguely of central Europe, not quite France, not quite Switzerland. Maybe somewhere in between if such a place existed. Nicanora cut the taller Nephilim a scathing look as if daring him to step out of line.
Nicanora had come to know that look. Niamh might still be learning it. No sooner had Daniel spoken, Will had picked up on the vibe, the aura of polite disdain the man was giving off. There was barely a pause between the introduction, the big Nephilim's greeting, and the eager shove of the paramedic's hand in his. No heavy squeezing, his hand was firm but casual. Relaxed. It wouldn't be a contest of strength.
His mouth on the other hand...
"Of course you are," he replied and smiled wider. "But the pleasure's really mine. Fanny over there thinks pretty highly of you, so the bar tab's on me tonight. And dinner. Kick back and let me deal with the mundanity."
Nica knew it was coming before it even happened. The tense tightening of her shoulders, the firm set to her mouth, she nearly stepped between the two. But Daniel managed a firm grip, one shake and then two before a prompt release of the man's hand. The next motion was unintentional, habit more than anything, but he wiped his palm against his leg, rough hands raking over black leather.
"Nicanora," he said pointedly and in clear disapproval of the moniker, "has told me plenty about you. But please, don't feel obligated. We're quite capable of covering our own."
"Beer!" Niamh called, pouring pitchers across glasses, filling them to the brim and shoving them toward the two Nephilim and the whateverWillwas. Nica took it, grateful and hasty in her downing of it. It would likely be the first of many on the night. It was half gone on the first chug and she relented when she decided she should probably breathe. The blonde gave the brunette woman a look and smacked down a handful of darts on the table they had claimed. "And darts. E'ryone loves darts, righ'?"
A single downwards tick of his gaze made note of it, but whatever goodnatured quip he would have made in response was chewed back and swallowed. "Probably only the good parts and not the great parts," he finally replied, trying hard to be jovial without being facetious. Man, it was hard. "And it's my pleasure to do something nice for you guys. You'll be good for it down the road."
Will reached for one of the full glasses, lifting it to the trio with him in salute before drinking deeply from it. With his free hand, he grabbed one of the darts, rolling it around in his hand to get a feel for it. "I love darts."
"If you're talking about your sex life, I've zero desire to hear about any of it," he answered bluntly, ticking a briefly unreadable look toward the other Nephilim, who looked absolutely mortified as she dropped her forehead onto her arms, which were folded atop the table. Niamh grazed her fingernails between the woman's shoulders in a soothing scratch, bending to mumble something beside her ear. It got a quiet giggle out of the Shadowhunter and she peeked up at her friend, one hand uncurling enough to accept the offer of three darts as given by the blonde.
"I've never played darts, but I imagine it's pretty similar to throwing anything else," Nica said in a quiet voice, straightening up from her hunched lean over the table and stepping over to the gap between tables that was lined with worn tape to mark off the no fly zone for those playing. Daniel wasn't far behind her, taking up a cross armed loom a few steps back. Nica glanced briefly over her shoulder, stared at him for exactly three seconds before shaking her head and looking back to the board. "How's it work? Hit the center?"
"I wasn't," Will snorted. "But thanks for making it awkward."
A brief, apologetic look was passed Nicanora's way, his smile fading with his amusement. Militant. That was a good way to describe Daniel, a generous moniker if one was willing to discount the faint hint of derision over the difference in their social statuses. For the lady's sake, he tried to ignore, instead choosing to focus on the mention of darts, which drew him back to her with a smile. "Depends on the game. I was always fond of cricket. Winner is the first person to fifteen through twenty at all three hash intervals and then land three bulls-eyes. It was a good way to kill time back in my younger days."
He was only briefly taken aback but it was a quick recovery that came in the form of a lifted chin and a lackadaisical shrug. "It isn't awkward in context, not knowing Nicanora like I do."
A harsh and short kick back of her boot heel caught him square in the shin and he grunted, meeting Nica's gaze as she looked over her shoulder at him again. "Enough, Daniel. Before I put one of these through your eye." Vehement as she was, it was easy to think that she was more than serious in her threat. He seemed nonplussed, giving her a look as if he dared her to try. That said, he didn't answer her and she instead looked back to Will as he explained. "So," she began, pinning a dart between thumb and forefinger. One look was given to the board and an easy snap of her wrist sent the dart sailing. It stuck in the narrowest part of the 17. "Was that good or bad?"
Nica fixed Will with her most starry eyed gaze. Daniel glowered. Niamh saw just how much beer she could chug before she started floating.
"I didn't know we were playing the intimate detail game." Where Will could have elaborated and made things more uncomfortable, he didn't. Instead he left the implications open in his tone, like a man who knew plenty of things the larger of the two Nephilim didn't. Likewise, he feigned a blithe ignorance to the tension that passed between Daniel and Nicanora, instead turning his focus to the toss of the dart, its landing, and his continued explanation of the game. "Gotta hit each three times, but, if you hit the outer hash mark on the pie slice, it counts as two. The inner counts as three. The better you are, the easier it is to close out."
"Nicanora," he said her name, putting the subtle curl on the tail end like he often did to tantalize her just a little. "Call my shot." He had let to lift his hand for a throw.
Nica shot Will a warning look, the beginnings of daggers if he divulged more. Thankfully he didn't so her shoulders relaxed just slightly and she looked back to the board. Her fingers rolled another dart between them as she tilted her head toward the roll of his name. It summoned thoughts best left for private, of cold walls and hot mouths. A minute shiver trailed its way down her spine and she slid him a lash veiled look that implied unspoken promises of the worst kind. "Sixteen?"
"Where on the sixteen?" Will's mouth twitched.
She slid him another look, this time skeptical. "The outer hash."
The paramedic flicked his wrist underhanded. In the time it took for anyone else to issue a sharp intake of breath, the dart was quivering in the center of the outer hash, its tail dipped at a downward angle.
Nica tipped her head to one side, eyeing the board like she wasn't quite sure if she was seeing things right. A subtle look angled over her shoulder toward Daniel and Niamh, the latter of which was almost through her first pitcher. Looking back to the EMT, she grinned. "Lucky shot. Call mine."
"Twenty. Center hash." The game, more for showing off than competition, curled a wider smile from Will. They'd played other games before, sure, but this was the first one that pitted a taste of her professional passion against skill she never knew he possessed. For a moment, he forgot Niamh and Broody Angel Hitler were there, and just soaked up the moment.
He knew her vanity, her pride, and her penchant for competition well enough. Her fingers found their grip on the dart and she squared herself up to throw. Though she didn't say it out loud, there was more than pride at stake, whether Will realized it or not. Her tongue ticked to the corner of her mouth, poking out just barely as she arced her wrist and with it, the dart. It stuck dead center in the 20's middle hash. "Bingo."
Whip, whip. It would have been hard to pinpoint when he'd grabbed the other two dart, let alone how, but no sooner had the 'O' been formed on her plush lips, ending the word, two more darts stuck out of the same hash, flanking hers. "You're pretty good at this, Fanny."
Her lips parted and her jaw worked if only to keep it from going slack. Golden brown gaze narrowed at the board and then lowered to his hands. Trailing up his body, she tried not to look too suspicious but the squinting sort of gave it away. By now, she was fully intent on the paramedic, their company left to the wayside as she tried to sort him out. "Call my next one."
"Bullseye. Inner." Will, had anyone ever cared enough to really look, presented one of Rhy'din's more interesting conundrums. He played at normalcy like he truly was normal, but talked at the worst the realm had to offer like he was bigger than like, like he truly was invincible. Most of the time. He surrounded himself in violence; violent people, a profession constantly exposed to the pain and suffering of others, but he continually professed a desire to do no harm to anyone, even in the face of his own suffering or death. He was ten times more athletic and coordinated than most saw, graceful in the need or great once, tough and energetic beyond the limits of most mortal men. He was so much more than the sum of the little details he dangled in front of the world, but let a little man's life.
Will was a great mystery that didn't want to be unraveled.
For all that she knew him, she really knew so little. He was hardly an open book and though she could trace every inch of him with practiced ease, he was still so closed off to her. It should have troubled her. In some ways, it did. In other ways, she could appreciate the need to keep certain things to himself. They all had their secrets, every single person in their little congregation. So she let him have his secrets and she let him have her. Nica stepped in close to him, her right hand moving to the side of his neck even as the left hand found just the right spot on the dart. One last glance at the board and then she turned back to him, leaning in to capture his mouth with hers. Normally she would have shied away from a display of affection like that in front of the other Nephilim and even Niamh, but she had a point to prove so her lips worked against his with a teasingly probing kiss long enough for her to make the throw, draw it out a little longer, and then finally break away with a quiet gasp. When she glanced over, the dart stuck just slightly off center of the middle of the bullseye. "Money shot."
Daniel was also standing over her shoulder, having moved toward them during the less than chaste moment. She could feel him there without looking. "What, Daniel?"
"Hardly an appropriate display of your ability, don't you think?" Chiding to a fault, he folded his arms across his broad chest and affected a look of general disapproval. It was an expression quite at home on the tense lines of his mouth.
She was playing to an audience. He could have been offended. Another may might have been. But the irreverent child in Will was more than a little wild-eyed in wanting to endorse the annoyance of Daniel and, better still, the taste of the slender Nephilim's mouth was a treat that he never tired of. He hummed something throaty into the kiss, letting it linger for far longer that she might have under the circumstances, initiated by her or no, before letting up.
"You said you weren't into that," he teased a reply before Daniel's disapproving question drew a look. Will fixed him with a curious, pensive look. "Your disapproval of my presence, not withstanding, is there something against her getting to simply enjoy some sporting fun?"
"I meant the board," she grinned in spite of herself and tilted her head to one side, nodding toward the dartboard that was more closely resembling a pin cushion the more that she and Will showed off. Her right shoulder bumped forward against his, some private show of affection before she reluctantly stepped back from his personal bubble so she could turn to face Daniel. Will was way ahead of her on answering him though and before she could get a word in edgewise, the taller of the two Nephilim was ready with a retort.
"Considering how far behind she is, her talents would be better suited in a more proper setting and application." Daniel was terse in his answer to Will, as if the very act of doing so annoyed him. It wasn't as though he owed the paramedic any sort of explanation. Nica looked back at Will then up at Daniel, her chin lifting with haughty defiance.
"Ranged practice is tomorrow, in case you've forgotten. Bright and early. I think that I'll survive one night of playing around." The scowl had taken over where a smile had been at the tail end of her kiss with Will. Daniel was able to match it quite easily.
"I've not forgotten even if it seems that you're forgetting why we're even training to begin with." Blue-grey moved from the Spaniard's eyes to the man standing behind her then back. "Not as though the Mundane would understand anyways."
"One woman's face is another man's bullseye. Who am I to judge?" It was terrible, but at least he could laugh at himself, which he did with a self-deprecating roll of his eyes. He was on the retreat during the back and forth between the two Nephilim, approaching the dart board to retrieve the pointy sporting implements. He contented himself in silence as the two went at it, but not without making silly faces at Niamh as a way to kill the time and entertain himself without getting in the middle of the heated banter. Nicanora was more than capable of taking care of herself and didn't need him to white knight for her.
It wasn't until Daniel had started throwing the verbal barbs at his back that the paramedic's smile faded. He didn't look over his shoulder as he spoke, instead studying the board. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was led to believe your people to be something like the caretakers of humanity. Is that incorrect? Please, tell me if it is. Because for someone who's tasked with protecting us Mundanes, you sure like to shit all over us with the way you talk. And how far above humanity do you need to place yourself before you don't feel the need to keep us safe? Because if you are a pinnacle example of what your people should be, then I fear for the rest of the sheep you shepherd. You know who else thought he was too good for humanity? Lucifer."
He added then, "And I understand better than you know. Not all monsters grow fangs, sprout claws, or throw spells. There are some things you don't know about the Mundane world that require just as much protection."
Niamh sat at the table with her head in her hands. It wasn't the first time she had been subjected to the holier than thou attitudes of the Nephilim but at this point, it was so tired that she could do nothing but let things snowball. While they bickered, she slipped away to see about refills. Likely they'd be needed.
On the verge of answering Daniel, it was instead Will's turn to beat Nica to the punch and she let out an exasperated huff and rolled her gaze from Daniel to the paramedic. Between the two men she couldn't keep up, her mind reeling from their back and forth. Daniel lifted his chin, looking down his nose at the slightly shorter man even from afar.
"The Morning Star fell not for thinking he was too good for humanity but rather for his disobedience. Obedience to a cause greater than himself much like the one Nicanora and I serve. Protecting the balance while knowing that Mundanes require a certain amount of delicate care is far different from rebelling when told to bow to what God deemed a greater creation, so don't you dare put my kind in line with that." He said with vehement disdain and before Nica could get a hand up to stop him, the subtle snap of his wrist flung a single handle-less blade at the dartboard, just to the left of the paramedic's head. Whether it was an intentional miss or not was left up for debate but Nica twisted around quickly, praying to every deity in existence that Daniel hadn't just stabbed Will.
Between the ticks...
One moment Will had been tugging the last dart free, his frustration building but not dangerously so. It was ironic that someone had referred to him as a bigot not so long ago when the more righteous personification of prejudice was talking right at his back. His copper tongue had grown more barbs as the conversation deepened into something less jovial and the words threatened to pour out of him in such a facetious display of Bitch, please.
In the next, the music filled him like it was his own life's blood. It raced through his veins with the blinding alacrity if a sunburst, fast as light. The paramedic's arm snapped up, a discordant note booming in his chest like fists slammed down heavily upon the a church organ, and caught the knife in his hand. The way he had turned just slightly, likely for fresh commentary, it would have struck him otherwise. Two rapid heartbeats later he whirled around and loosed Daniel's blade in a backhanded throw. It stopped with a hard tock! next to the big Nephilim's ear in one of the square oak pillars that ran from floor to ceiling in the bar. Half of its entire length was buried into the aged hardwood, followed a split second later by every dart Will had retrieved from from the cork dart board, patterned in a smiley face with the knife marking what would have been its forehead.
He shrugged out of his coat then, letting it fall to the floor. The right short sleeve of his t-shirt rode up with his shift in posture, showing off the ink high on his arm, unintelligible to anyone not intimately familiar with the Mundane world and its worldly protectors. The paramedic could have pointed it out and pontificated on it in an attempt to impress, and Nica has seem the same symbol on the knives he'd gifted her, but instead he used the hand to point to the Latin script on his left forearm.
Ut vivant alii.
"I live by these words. I die by these words. I know what's at stake every time I do, both as a privilege and a penance. I've seen the worst of humanity," he said and his tone implied he might have even counted himself among it. "And I've seen the best. No one's perfect, not even your precious Nephilim. You fight for us, but we're nothing serious for you, Mister Blackwater. But I respect what you do, despite your penchant for sticking your nose so high in the air that you've convinced yourself your shit don't stink." Will's expression softened. "Preach at me all you want, but remember that one of your own turned on you, took something precious from you, and then tell me again how perfect you are."
"I look at her," he pointed towards Nicanora,"and I see beautiful imperfection. A warrior bred but with a heart as wonderful as it is leonine. The sex is great, shit, the sex is amazing, but the more time I spend with her, the more I've discovered there's so much more about her that keeps me coming back. That keeps me letting her closer. You may think she's just slumming with some Mundane. Good for you. You're not the one who has gotten the priceless privilege of watching her sleep, silently sharing her grief, and wanting to touch the woman, the Nephilim be damned. I didn't want it to be, but for me, it's something serious, even if she ends up hating me for it."
His skin had flushed an uncommon red for the telling. Blushing? It wasn't impossible. With a bend at the waist and a snap of his hand, he snatched up his coat and started shrugging back into it. "And if you wanna come at me like you just did again, at least have the courage or, God Forbid, the respect to do it at some time other than when my back is turned. I didn't take the Nephilim for bitches."
His previously untouched beer was taken up from the table, tipped back and slowly downed during the first steps taken towards the door.
"Daniel!" Nica shrilled midturn only for the sharp objection to come to a screeching halt with the seemingly slow motion grab and return of the thrown blade. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Disbelief etched itself in the most obvious fashion across her face, her dark eyes following the thrown blade's path back at the other Nephilim. It was going to hit him, she was certain of it, so next her admonishment came full circle. "Will!"
Ultimately, the blade nor its dart tipped comrades didn't skewer the taller man, much to Nica's equal parts chagrin and relief. She smeared one hand over her mouth and kept it there, smothering the aghast spread of her lips, the rounded circle of shock that matched all too well with moon wide eyes. Midway through Will's monologue, someone poured cement down her throat and she felt the drowning of her heart in her chest as it sank like a stone to the pit of her stomach. A wound only barely scabbed over was ripped open anew and a hearty helping of salt was poured in and smeared over with each word that followed.
Nothing serious. The words had come back to haunt her. Words she hadn't thought he heard and even if he had, she didn't think they would have stuck with him like that. The needling jabs continued with the thinly veiled mention of all that Silvano had done. All that they had lost. That she had lost. Christopher. Just when she thought she could get him out of her mind, he was ripped to the forefront all over again. Her chest ached and her eyes burned but she set her jaw and tried her best to interject, the quietest of protestations.
"Stop talking about me like I'm not standing right here," she said weakly, her voice not rising quite high enough to reach the two men. Daniel stood stock still beside the pillar, stuck between shock and fury with his hands clenched at his sides. Nica didn't like the look on his face but then again, she didn't like the look on Will's either. It was a side she had never seen before. Gone was the carefree, happy-go-lucky paramedic and in his place was the picture of righteous indignation all the way up until he left. She visibly flinched as it all seemed to come crashing down on her. Something serious. Something serious, only to have him end with a proverbial bang, taking the pot shot at not only Daniel but her entire kind.
She didn't follow him.
Instead she stood just as still as Daniel, the only movement coming from the pan of her gaze and the short and shallow rise and fall of her chest. It hurt to breathe, like someone had stuck that throwing knife between her ribs and twisted it. Niamh tapped a toe against a floorboard to announce her presence behind the Nephilim, touching a few fingers against Nica's elbow. Nica looked back at the blonde, her expression a little too wide eyed to be perfectly impassive. Niamh stepped closer and slipped an arm around her shoulders.
"C'mon, le's get ye outta here. We can go drink, me an' you somewhere. Jus' the girls," Niamh cooed soothingly, lifting a short but pointed look at Daniel. He was not invited. Niamh's hand rubbed against Nica's arm. "Unless yer wantin' ta go with PJ there."
"PJ?" Nica asked, dazed.
"Ne'ermind that. Ye wanna go with him?" Niamh nodded toward the retreating paramedic.
"No." Her voice softened further, suddenly exhausted. That Nicanora wasn't leaving with Will seemed to relax Daniel if only slightly. It wasn't until Will had gone that he finally spoke.
"Nicanora," he said gently, taking a step toward her and the blonde. Nica's gaze snapped up to meet him and immediately the flame was rekindled. She bared her teeth but before she could go after him, Niamh's slim yet preternaturally strong arms slipped the Nephilim's waist and hauled her back a few steps. In her fury, Nica couldn't wriggle free though she certainly tried. "Go to Hell, Daniel. You ever pull that shit again and I'll end you myself!"
"Ah, yup, time ta go," Niamh sighed and awkwardly shuffled backwards toward the door, taking Nica with her. The further they got from Daniel, the more her struggle slowed and by the time they made it to the exit, Niamh was less dragging and more guiding the girl out into the cold. "We'll be back later, don't wait up for us."
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((Thank you to everyone involved for making this scene a thing!))