finalflight | THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

[A charm point? He thinks so, yes. He blows a ring of smoke, amused, while she turns it into incense. How quaint.]

Private interests... Yours is your family? Your granddaughter?

[The brothers had mentioned that, too. It wouldn't be the first that Thomas has heard of Iona--he remembers the very funny tale of a ruined job concerning an urn--but he hadn't given it much thought until very recently.

Honestly, he forgot all about it.]

Loyalties lie where they lie. I can't blame you for that. But, selfishly, I hope we can remain on good working terms. We are not so... bad of a group.

[CITATION NEEDED]

We simply do dirty work sometimes.

Edited 2023-04-17 20:36 (UTC)

Yes. Iona.

[Berna smiles at the mention of her. It's fond and unmistakably maternal.]

I also have a grandson, Solomon. He is capable on his own and does not need me interfering in his affairs but Iona is quite precious. You should meet her one day. It's like seeing how I used to be, unblemished and hopelessly optimistic and loving.

[When he voices his selfish hope, Berna looks up from the floor at him.]

We'll see Thomas. I am also selfish seeing as how I'm involving myself right now. I could never totally harden my heart into stone.

[Berna tilts her head upwards to the ceiling lights, dreamy eyed.]

Sounds like I'm still hopeless even after so long.

[He can hear it in her tone, see it in her eyes. The love for her grandchildren. Thomas smiles, uncertain he can really relate anymore; what family he once had is long gone. And he certainly never had any children, when most of his existence was spent trapped in the strange dimension they now call their home.

But he supposes that's a tale for another time. Instead, he chooses only to appreciate it vicariously through her.]

That isn't so bad, Jackie. It is better than being heartless. Soulless.

[His lips quirk at that, a little private joke. Smoke continues to laze upwards from the tip of his burning cigarette.]

It means you still have an appreciation for life, even after 400 years. That is very impressive.

... Berna.

[She looks at him again, her eyes warm and shining despite the pale fluorescent lights, her lips a small smile.]

Jacqueline Berna Oakes if you will. Since I didn't tell you the first time.

Edited 2023-04-17 23:08 (UTC)

[Oh. What a view, that smile. It should disarm even the most stone-hearted man; though Thomas is certainly far from that, to the point of detriment sometimes.

Now? He can certainly bring himself to appreciate it, feeling warm across his cheekbones.]

Berna. [He tests it on his tongue.] I like that just as much, if not more.

So now we are properly introduced, no? Does that make us even closer friends?

[One of the lesser things one could say about her was that despite her grandness, her dazzling aura, and her free-spirited personality, Berna was a witch who had few true friends. She had a magnetism, yes, but once she goes back to her workshop alone, there are only golems, perfectly sculpted to her taste, varied in personalities and looks as she pleases, and never to betray her.

So when someone asks to be her friend it's one of the few things left in this life that makes her heart seize.

It's so sweet. Thomas gets a laugh followed by a nod of confirmation.]

Friends? Yes. Absolutely. What a wonderful thing we have already Thomas.

[There are footsteps approaching and so she leaves her spot on the wall to stand next to him. Her prisms surround them in a circle and she puts a finger on her lips.]

Hush now. We can watch how they open it up.

[And why would he not want to be her friend? For Thomas, to ask such a thing comes naturally, even in his current state where lucidity hounds him, where his power beneath his skin makes him listless. There is less of that in her presence, he thinks, at least in the small amount of time that they've interacted thus far. But that makes it no less poignant to him, no less real.

So yes. Friends. And even if never much more than that, it is nice to know, all the same.]

I think so, too, Berna.

[Those are sure footsteps, however, and Thomas steps closer to her, eying her prisms and trusting that they'll keep them obscured. He watches, closely, as several individuals appear around the far corner, with the items from the auction in-tow. Some boxed up, some carried, some covered. Thomas can sense oddities inherent in all of them, their magic, or their non-magic essences, but it's all muddled so close to the ward.

Another man steps forward, tall and disgruntled looking. Presumably a guard, thinks. He watches as he reaches out with a hand, fingertips glowing, carving out intricate symbols mid-air. Three of them, it seems, but he cannot see fully their images from this angle.

Something shimmers in the air. The ward "unlocks", the man opens a huge pair of metal double doors, and the people file through to set the items within. Thomas murmurs, quietly:]

Ah, lock and key. Of a sort.

Edited 2023-04-18 01:30 (UTC)

[Berna watches with a sharper look in her eyes. Her view is also obscured so she cannot see what's being drawn in the air which is an added layer of challenge.]

Hard to tell from here isn't it? [If she had Lillian, the intellectual golem would be able to figure it out but it's just them now.]

But only three. That should narrow it down.

[Maybe. Sort of.]

We'll move forward when they leave then?

Yes, I think so. I—

[He seems to remember the cigarette hanging from his mouth, and he flicks it away, then stamps it out gently with the toe of an expensive shoe.]

Once they leave we will approach. But keep in mind they will return again to put the current item on auction away, only to bring out another. I would say we have ten minutes at most.

Best think quickly, the both of us.

[Berna nods, her shoulders tense. Ten minutes? No problem. A good amount of pressure right there.

When they relock the doors and leave, Berna taps her heel against the wall so that her footsteps can be silent. Her crystals continue to encircle them both, moving along as she gets to the entrance first.

The witch rubs her hands together.]

Alright. Let's try with one crystal first.

[One of her smaller rocks hovers over where the wards were drawn and with its pointed tip traces in the air. It buzzes as it tries to write in the general area the guard did until it glows when it finds the exact scripts. Berna smiles, triumphant.]

Good. I can unlock it and then lock it again so they're none the wiser.

[Quiet as cats they tread, and then they’re before the door and its ward — which apparently is barely a hurdle at all for Berna, whose crystal traces magical energies still burnt in the air.]

Clever. I was going to suggest the same. Though you do it so quickly, and so accurately, you might put people such as myself out of business.

[Thomas pushes the door open and they’re in.

The storage room is large and mostly nondescript, save for the large shelves and long metal tables where the auction items are being kept. Berna would recognize her own at the opposite end of the room, stored on one of the higher shelves for now. The lights are bright and buzz above them with more vigor than in the corridor. It’s cool in here, too, and though Thomas keeps his voice low, it still echoes.]

Do not lock it yet. The ward muddies my senses.

[And he would like to find the plant expediently!]

If they really wanted to befuddle outside forces, they would have had the whole door warded. Three is a minuscule amount.

[Berna follows Thomas glancing back and forth, not particularly worried about their backs (several more crystals there). She nods when he instructs her to keep the door unlocked.]

I'll stay near the entrance and you go look. Ah, but before you go...

[She waves one of her crystals over and has it fly closer to Thomas.]

This one will follow you. Only for this job though. Unfortunately, you can't keep it. [She grins waving him off.]

Now, I did say muddy, not befuddle. Give this thief credit where it is due.

[But he flashes her a grin, and when a crystal joins him, he looks at it questioningly.]

All right, little friend. Come with me, then.

[He isn’t entirely sure what it does, but clearly it’ll be helpful. Thomas wanders further into the room, eyes flicking back and forth. There’s much here, all of it radiating with strange energy, and it would be difficult to find the little potted plant in question if he hadn’t already familiarized himself with its signature before breaking in. Thankfully, he did, and it doesn’t take terribly long to locate it, propped up on a shelf adjacent to the most western wall.]

Here it is. Here, here—

[He murmurs, striding over to reach out and pick it up by the pot.]

Such a small thing, no? What a strange piece to add to a collection…

Edited 2023-04-18 05:43 (UTC)

[The crystal navigates the room with Thomas and when he finds the little plant it seems all will be well.

But then it starts turning red and blinks rapidly at him. And in a few seconds, Thomas may be able to sense another signature moving rapidly from the back and hear thick snapping noises like thick vine branches crawling against the walls and towards him The now-red crystal spins around Thomas protectively.

Berna remains at the entrance keeping an eye out but is aware of the incoming danger. But she does not panic. She stands her ground, having faith that Thomas can figure things out. Her crystal will give him a little protection.

Now all they have to fight against is time.]

[It's the crystal's change of hue that Thomas notices first, alarming him in a way that makes him flick his eyes up and outward for signs of danger. And he hears, before he notices anything else, the sound of-- branches? Of foliage crawling and stretching; which makes no sense to him, and so he reaches out with his senses to understand just what the hell is going on.

All around them, the sense of life spider-webbing outwards. And in his hands, where that little plant lies, a heartbeat come to life.]

Shit.

[He's keen to put the plant down for now, but a little leaf brushes his hand, which turns into a little vine which wraps around his finger-

(In his head, a voice: Sunlight! And the feeling of something sapping just a fragment of his power via touch.)

And what happens next transpires so suddenly that he hardly has time to account for it.

The plant grows, and grows, and grows, its roots bursting out of its pot and lancing downwards, coiling and twisting and planting into the ground, pushing past ceramic tile. Branches and vines overflow. The thing shatters out of its pot, extending upward towards the ceiling in growth unlike anything Thomas has ever seen -- and he's seen plenty.]

Ah, fuck-

[He says, uselessly. Yeah, he's stepped back now, but this thing looks huge, twisting and flowering and strangely beautiful, but it is filling the whole room, keen to knock over every shelf and every item in this auction with abandon. And somewhere, twisting up in the trunk, is...

The figure of a woman?

Goddamn it.]

It's a fucking dryad-

[Morgan, you bastard. You didn't tell him-]

[Berna hears the sound of branches disrupting the room within and Thomas's cursing. Lips pursed, she realizes that well. They're definitely dealing with something much more substantial within.

She sets up one of her crystals to create an invisible wall in the middle of the corridor to buy them some time, a speedbump to delay anyone trying to get in.

Meanwhile, the red crystal continues to blink as the plant Thomas just held grows into a dryad. There's a branch that tries to shoot toward him but the prism has created a shield and it bounces off unsuccessful.

Guess what her crystal can also do? Magic walkie-talkie. Berna's voice emits from the it.]

Thomas? It doesn't sound good back there. You're not hurt?

Edited 2023-04-18 15:45 (UTC)

[Thankfully, dryads are not often aggressive in nature, even if this one is growing impossibly fast thanks to borrowing a fragment of Thomas' power. Its branches fan out, more and more and more, so fast that they could skewer a man if he stood in the wrong spot, at the wrong time.

One comes rather close, rushing past, but it glances off the shield that Berna's crystal has summoned in front of him. He hears her voice soon after as he steps back, then glances up at the ceiling to watch the tree strain, strain, strain against it.]

It's a giant tree now, Berna. This little potted plant was a dryad just waiting to grow, and I assure you, that bastard must have known-

[Morgan, of course. Already, his mind whirs. Every item is going to be crushed under the spreading girth of this delighted dryad, rent via branches or entwined via vines. He needs to get out before he's one of them.]

Time to go. [He starts climbing the tree, grabbing limbs, fingers dislodging blossoms, hefting himself up with surprising agility. If it's going to burst through the ceiling, then it can take him with it.] You need to do the same!

Ah, I see. I'll meet you outside then.

[She won't waste time with more witty banter. The witch moves to the wall and Envisions an exit to the outside. The plain wall slides away just for her and then closes when she briskly steps out into the cool night air. No doubt the sound of the tree growing and fracturing the building will cause a fuss to say the least.]

I'm outside. Antoine will be touching base with us both.

[The golem has already shaken off most of the security guards who are now scrambling to make sense of what's going on in the storage room.

Thomas's red crystal buddy continues to hover over the thief, protecting him from the greedy plant life that can sense the source of light that's helping it grow. Every branch reaching for him gets slapped away by the invisible energy it produces hopefully making for a smooth exit as he ascends.]

[Yes, thank goodness for Berna's crystal. Every vine that tries to reach him is rebuffed, every branch reflecting off the magic's shielding. It's for the best, and less messy than the alternative, which would have been Thomas trying to burn each and every one of them away when they got too near.

After all, a dryad is just being a dryad. He would do what's necessary, but this is the better option, because as he clambers up, higher and higher, he passes by the area of the tree's drunk that bulges in the contours of a woman's form. The dryad smiles at him, eyes aglow, reaching out with one arm to gently press her hand against Thomas' shield. She is gentle, despite the wreckage she's unduly causing.]

Sorry, madam. Maybe next time.

[And so he swiftly climbs, until he reaches the top, where a hole in the ceiling gapes and reveals the night sky. Thomas leaps off, though he's stolen a little sprig on the way up, landing in a crouch as the dryad continues to grow behind him. Up, up, up.]

Tch! [Oh yes, he's sure this is all causing a fuss both within the auction and the room below. Is there anything left to be salvaged? Not that he cares, and he doubts it. He's sure that was the point.]

Fucking hell. [URGH. Thomas straightens, glancing behind him, then begins to move across the rooftop with a quiet step. He hisses in low tones.]

Berna? Still there?

"Bonjour."

[Well, it's the next best thing, Antoine instead of Berna. The golem is lazily sitting on a tree branch nearby and waves to Thomas. Even though he had been working on dismantling the security, his straight collar and tie, and crisp sleeves don't seem to indicate that he had much trouble even after making his escape.

The red crystal reverts back to its original shining transparency. Antoine proceeds to move to the edge of the room where the branches have snaked downward and hold out his hand for Berna who takes hold of it as she ascends to the rooftop.]

Still here.

[Antoine keeps his creator steady as they find themselves flat ground to walk across on the roof. Berna doesn't look frazzled but she is frowning at the sight around them.]

Well.

[Some heist huh?]

[Some heist is right.

He whirls on his heel to see Antoine sitting amongst the tree branches, not a single wrinkle across his shirt, not a hair out of place. Of course. Thomas exhales wryly, and then there's Berna, who looks just as calm. He waits for them both to join him, closer to the edge of the roof. Far away enough to where no one will glance up through the gaping hole to spot them at just the right angle.

The two of them are calm, and he is relieved that they're unharmed, but. Oh, he's irritated.]

That was merde. A fucking shitshow! [He waggles the sprig he's clenching in one hand as he speaks.] Now I understand why I was sent here. To make a fool of anyone who had the gall to deny him.

[And, perhaps most scathingly, to make a fool of him. That's how Thomas feels, anyway, regardless of actual intention. His pride is wounded. He feels used, or like a joke. ]

That man, I could burn him to ashes.

[Berna is giving Antoine a once over (to make sure there's not a scratch on him) before they both join Thomas at the edge of the roof. She says nothing, letting him voice his frustrations before she reaches over to touch the back of his hand.]

But you don't.

[Not a question. An observation. His reaction is interesting to Berna who only had the barest hint through Thomas that the people who work for Morgan may do so partly out of tolerance. What a reluctant team it is.]

So that's a way in which he works then.

[Taking a deep breath of night air, Berna looks around at the damage that has been caused. She'll stay behind so that she can blend in as a witless guest, pretending to be as confused as everyone else. Someone else can deal with the tree while she fixes some of the items. It would be a shame to leave those ruined including her own artwork.

She decides to show her support just to him rather than waste words of comfort on something she doesn't have the entire picture for.]

Would you like Antoine to help you find an exit point, Thomas? I'll stay here. Someone else will pick me up.

[Thanks Emil.]

[His breath gutters out when she touches the back of his hand. It isn't entirely enough to calm him, but he does lower his tone.

But you don't.

No, he doesn't.

Thomas also doesn't reply, setting his jaw. He feels like he really needs a smoke, now. Or a hard drink. Or another session to burn off his powers, which he might just do after he confronts Morgan about this fiasco back at the house.

He curses again, this time in French, as he places the little sprig inside his jacket pocket. Yes, even despite his frustrations, he is still bringing back what was required of him.]

...Thank you, but I will be fine. [What sort of sorry thief can't make his own exit from a nighttime rooftop? None that he would rub shoulders with.] I am sorry that the night had to end in this way. A ruin to your own evening.

[He knows she has to get back, to play dumb and definitely not complicit.]

Thomas.

[She says his name again quietly and reaches up with one hand to graze his cheek with her fingertips and to look into his eyes. Her own tells him that she isn't bothered by a ruined evening. It implores him, asks him without saying aloud, "Are you okay? Will you really be fine? I want you to be."

But as to not be completely silent, she says with the reassurance of someone who can only have lived as long as her.]

I'll be seeing you again.

[Were he able to read that look in her eyes--and likely, he can--he'd not know how to answer. Right now, he is harried, and angry, and feels a fool. But later? Later he will be okay. Some baseline of "okay", at least, and life will drag on, day by day as it always does.

He tilts his head into her touch. But only for a moment. And that moment is gone in a whisper.]

Shall I be cliche and wish you au revior? [A beat, a strained pull of a corner of his lip.] Goodnight.

[And with that, he lingers for but a moment more, before he's turning to hop off the edge of the roof, eerie-quiet, and not to be seen for the rest of the night.]

THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject