ȿтαɢε ☸ ƒяιɢнт ¤ ic { f u l l }

Are you ready?!

YESSSSSSS!	64.3%	[ 9 ]
Oh gawd no Dx	0.0%	[ 0 ]
what? I'm just here for the gold @~@	35.7%	[ 5 ]
Total Votes:			[ 14 ]

[momo the momi]

BYRON LOVES NICHOLAI BYRON LOVES LARA = CONFUSION

Dear God. Byron tried to stifle his contempt for the suit handed to him for his final fitting: the tie felt like it was choking him, and the jacket was tight . . . or at least that's what he told himself (and the tailor). More than likely, it was just his passive aggressive way, to try to put off the wedding. Because how could he get married, if the suit didn't fit? No, he'd have to send it back all over again. But then again, the wedding was tomorrow, and if he actually hung his hope on the whole thing getting called off over a suit, then he was sorely mistaken. Besides, he was ready to get married. Everyone said so. Everyone congratulated him throughout the months of preparation, and told him over and over again how good a wife Lara would make (something he never denied, and was even grateful for). She was his perfect match.

He had come to respect her in a way he never could have before, not until his Father died, because while he fell apart in grief (and subsequent shock over his mother's quick remarriage to his uncle), Lara was there picking up the pieces. She wanted to be there for him, and somehow, magically ran the house while his mother was off on her honeymoon, and even helped in preparations for her to move out, all while Byron locked himself in his room. Not even Nicholai saw him for a few days. They had gotten back from Nantucket that night, and the tears began to pour once he was in a familiar place, and even though Nicholai was just trying to help, Byron was too ashamed of the tears to let him stay. Verbally shoving him out of the room, only made the younger man angry, and a fight ensued . . . but since then, after that rough first night, everything had been great.

That Christmas Byron had tried to make his amends, and offered Nicholai a perfect gift - a pocket watch, that even now, the ex-priest clung to - and really, thoughts of courtship with Lara were at a stand still, while Nicholai and Byron explored one another. With feelings finally in the open, they couldn't help but spend every night together, sleeping together in bed, or reading quietly in front of the fireplace. They talked about everything, and yet, somehow, felt just as comfortable sitting in silence, and just holding one another. Their relationship was growing deeper, while Lara fell to the wayside. Every now and then, Byron would give her a little bit of hope - talk to her, or take her out somewhere (but courtship rules called for chaperones until they were engaged), and so in a way, how Byron acted around her, didn't seem any different than before. He had always respected and cared for her - just like any comrade would for their team member, but it wasn't what she needed, or deserved.

Still, nothing changed, until finally Byron's mother returned for a visit. She had been married for two months by then, but seeing as it was January, she felt her New Year's Resolution should include having a better relationship with her son. Not having ever really been particularly close to his mother, the team leader wasn't really excited to receive a calling card from her, but Lara (supportive, as always, encouraged him - though maybe that was because she knew Mommy Dearest would be on her side?). Henrietta Callaghan arrived with all the pomp and circumstance her title called for, but Byron was never into such degrading shows of material wealth, and wanted to hide out his library, while Lara welcomed her into the home.

It had been Henrietta's home for decades, and yet now, she was merely a guest (her own contentment for such a change in status didn't go unbeknownst to Lara, but she carefully watched her words, and quickly fell in Mrs. Callaghan's favor). Byron in the mean time, having had just enough time to compose himself, greeted his mother cautiously - not really knowing why she was there in the first place - and lead her to the parlor so they could talk alone. It was here, that Mrs. Callaghan (hypocritically), spoke of the sanctimony of marriage, and how Byron's responsibilities lied in making Lara an honest woman. He had been courting her for months, and it was time to place a ring on her finger.

To be frank, Byron was about to delicately tell her to bugger off, but she pointed out all the reasons why he needed to get married - he was nearing twenty-nine, and a man of his "standing", needed a wife. Besides, heirs were just as important - as Mrs. Callaghan pointed out, how her status was cemented, only once she had provided her heir. But still, to dig the guilt in a little deeper, she reminded Byron, that "stringing along the poor girl, would only make you look like you don't want to get married". She paused for a moment, trying to read his reaction, but she didn't suspect the truth . . . though she did manage to pant the seed of fear in his heart. If he didn't get married, people might start asking why. And though he didn't care what people would whisper about, it would mean that they would keep an even more careful eye on them, and if that was the case, then he and Nicholai would have to sneak around even more.

Things would only get harder if he got engaged, but things would get worse if he didn't.

Byron proposed to Lara that evening at dinner.

Nicholai and Byron still slept together in the same room, Byron walking down the halls, pretending to go to the bathroom, before quietly sneaking into Nicholai's bed instead. And though it had gotten more and more tense as time passed, they were still too in love to deny one another (though neither confirmed their feelings to that point). For Byron, if he admitted it out loud to Nicholai, it would just be harder on the younger man. In fact, as the wedding preparations were in full force, all Byron could do, was be patient with the man. But really, what could he say, when Nicholai would ask what would happen once he was married? Byron didn't want to deal with it either. He didn't want to admit that he would take his vows to heart (including the vow of fidelity), and stop visiting with Nicholai in the evenings. He didn't want to admit that he couldn't showcase his love for him anymore, after the ceremony - as if, he could really stop loving him though.

But short of running away, there was no answer . . . because even then, eventually, things would catch up to them. There was no safe haven for them, or their love, and so, Byron could only fallow along the life that was laid out for him. Lara was in front, Nicholai in the back. But that didn't mean that Byron was any more ready to give up on the ex-priest. Even now, the afternoon before the wedding (after the tailor left), Byron roamed the hallways, pacing in front of Nicholai's door. There were caterers, and servants bustling about - arranging multiple guest rooms, and setting up the wedding venue outside in the gardens, not to mention the afternoon reception for everyone, where Mrs. Callaghan and the over night guests would be at. It was all weighing down on Byron, and he almost desperately needed Nicholai's support. But how could he ask the man to do that? At a time like this?

Reaching the door to Nicholai's room, he raised his hand to knock on it (far too cautious with all these "wandering" guests and servants, to use his skeleton key like usual). But to his surprise, the door opened before he could knock, and there stood Nicholai, just as surprised to see Byron standing there, but quickly putting on the all too familiar mask lately, of nonchalance, "Nicholai - can we talk?"


XXXXXXXXXXXXX
YAY! We are open ^3^

[Siren Wishmaster]

Nicholai sat in his room -something he did quite often of late- staring out the window at the chaos below. The watch Byron gave him as a Christmas gift lay open in his palm, he read the inscription over and over again. "There is no fear in love...". Though he moved not a muscle, inside, his thoughts and emotions raged with pent up passion. How he longed to break his reverie by tossing a few of the porcelain vases and figures that cluttered his room out the window. His mind whirled at the endless possibilities of things he could do to disrupt the people scurrying about in preparation for Byron's wedding. What a grave trial it would be tomorrow, Nicholai could see it in his mind's eye: The glowing bride, the guests, the flowers, and the blushing groom lying through his teeth as he pledges his love to an unsuspecting woman while his lover glowers from the aisle. All parties involved received the short end of the stick.

As much as Nicholai wanted to... he couldn't hate Lara; he was finally allowing himself to realize that she, more than anyone, was a victim. If only Byron could say no, if only he had never loved Nicholai, if only they weren't backed into a solid wall of mistakes and impossible choices, if only. Yes he blamed Byron for this, and why shouldn't he? It had bee Byron who awoke love within Nicholai, Byron who then on that very same day, announced his courtship to Lara, Byron who continued to lead Lara on while seeing Nicholai behind her back. Yes, it was all Byron's doing, and that man's fault for where Nicholai now found himself: being tossed to the wayside like yesterday's old laundry to make way for Byron's "proper" partner.

It was always unspoken, yet understood, between the two men that one day their affair would come to an end but Nicholai never suspected it would come this soon, before it had really even begun. They had never gone past kissing, after that first night in Nantucket when Nicholai had proclaimed himself "unready" Byron never perused farther than Nicholai allowed, and now the ex-priest began to regret his hesitance. Why hadn't he confessed the depth of his affection for Byron? Perhaps if he had, Byron would have been swayed by his pleas. It might not be too late, the wedding was tomorrow, could they not simply run away? Exile themselves to a remote place, if they were continually on the move, no one would find out the nature of their relationship. They could even travel as brothers, harmless enough companions, no one would ever suspect, especially if they wore wedding rings.

The man sighed. Why did he torment himself with these flightless fantasies? They were only false hopes, driving him deeper into despair. Why could Byron not see what he was doing to him? It was possible he knew very well, might even feel the same way, but was denying it because he had to, because he believed it to be the right thing to do. Nicholai could see Byron's reasons, his side, and understood where he was coming from, and that made him hate it all the more, because reason, and logicality and "right" didn't help ease the pain of it all, and it certainly didn't help him sleep at night. Nicholai wanted to blame Byron (he was an easy target), wanted to hate him, so he did, because it projected his anger and his thoughts on something other than his situation.

With a final spiteful glance at the wedding prep below his window, Nicholai closed the watch and returned it to his waistcoat pocket, stood up from his chair and made way to the door. He needed air and time to clear his thoughts. Upon opening the door he was shocked to see Byron right outside, positioned as if he himself were just about to enter. Nicholai hid his surprise as best he could, assuming the neutral, detached countenance that had become his norm since Byron announced his engagement. Nicholai restrained his initial response to Byron's appearance at his door (to slam said door in is face) and waited for the man to state his business. "Nicholai - can we talk?"

The demon hunter inhaled sharply as he bit back a smart retort and let it out slowly, composing himself. He was glad to see Byron, they had spent precious little time together since his mother arrived and Nicholai wanted to take the man in his arms and hide in his room for the next two days, until the wedding had passed, and then he would wake up and realize this had all just been a very bad dream. After scanning the hallway Nicholai motioned for Byron to come in and closed the door behind him. Byron walked to the fireplace then turned just as Nicholai came up behind him, and they fell into each other, unable to restrain themselves. Forgetting everything he wanted so badly to yell at Byron, to make it known that he blamed the man for his suffering; all was forgotten when Byron kissed him. 'Forgotten but not forgiven.' Nicholai reminded himself pulling away. "Why are you here Byron? You know how I feel, and you've made it clear to all but yourself the choice you've made." He said this quietly but his tone was short and bitter.

Nicholai could tell Byron was taken aback. 'Good. Let him feel the pain of his choice.' Though the demon hunter wondered if he was actually hurting himself in an effort to spite Byron. When he was this close, it was neigh impossible to keep his distance, especially knowing these could be their very last moments alone together in this fashion. After no one said anything, Nicholai broke the silence, unable to stop himself from practically begging Byron to abandon this marriage. "Please, Byron, it's not too late, we can simply leave..." Byron held up his hand to silence the younger man. He reiterated (in that reasoning tone that he always took, which annoyed Nicholai so much) that they had been over this time and time again. The ex-priest let loose an exasperated sigh. They had gone over it, and many other desperate options Nicholai presented, but Byron always shot them down. It seemed there was nothing he could do to persuade Byron against marrying Lara.

Tired of argueing the same points over and over again, Nicholai walked to the window, putting distance between himself and the leader. He was so confused, he wanted to yell and scream at Byron, but here when he was presented with the chance, all he could do was succumb to desire and beg the man to stay. Not looking at Byron, the ex-priest resumed emotionless nonchalance, he wouldn't push the topic anymore, but he refused to apologize for bringing it up. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"




Yes!!! We're finally open!

[OuEstLaCraie]

Lara felt like her mind had been shrouded in a deep and unforgiving fog since returning from Nantucket. The young Agent felt as though she'd simply shut down on the mission; she could hardly remember anything of the solving of the crime, let alone the subsequent arrests and reports to be done. If she were to truly sit and ponder it, she would have to call the preceding statement a lie - of course she remembered it. It was all here, somewhere, buried under memories and facts and truly frightening imaginings. She couldn't forget a case any easier than other women forgot their mother's recipes or how to care for their children. She didn't forget things. She made note of them and filed them away. She couldn't forget a thing, because how else could her husband-to-be look to her for guidance and support?

It was the morning before her wedding, and Lara blushed when she felt something stirring within her when her thoughts turned, once more, back to Byron Callaghan, and how she would soon be the mistress of his home and the one on his arm for the rest of eternity. For whatever amount of time God decided to give them on Earth, Lara was certain she would love him each and every day of their marriage, and beyond. She had been in love with him since she'd met him, to be honest, and feelings like that didn't fade easily. It took work to make someone loathe you as much as Lara sometimes suspected she should loathe Byron. Because for every giddy stomach flutter she felt whenever she thought of how very soon she would be Mrs. Byron Callaghan, Lara couldn't keep the darker thoughts away.

Byron didn't love her. She shook her head, staring blankly out the window pane at as glorious a day as she could hope for. Byron not love her - that was unfair, uncalled for, and false. She comforted herself with that thought every night, before sleep, and each morn, upon waking. It was all she had to cling to, in the weary moments when her mind would not cease replaying the image of Byron in the midst of a romantic passion play with someone who was most certainly not his fiancée. Yes, Byron certainly had plenty of love to give, and more than she had ever hoped for now found its way to Lara. But her beloved, it was true, also loved another.

Nicholai. Neither man knew that she was aware of their liaison, as far as Lara could tell, but she knew. How could she not? Byron was careful, but he couldn't help the doorknobs or bed frames his betrothed came into contact with, couldn't stop her from reading plain on his face what he hid from others. She had made a study of the leader's finer features, the subtle changes in his posture, the narrowing of his eyes, the quiver of his lip, when he was happy, or fearful, or sad. The face he showed the world was bone thick and unbreakable. But, God forbid, when he let it slip...! Lara shuddered at the memory, a face she had never seen, an emotion she didn't immediately recognize, something she could only call love in his eyes. And she knew it wasn't directed at her - it never had been before, and that kind of passion and adoration could never be hers. She knew as much.

And she blamed Nicholai. It was simple to hate him, almost too easy. Lara had grown up sweet and unassuming. She'd waited for Byron for...how many years had it been? She never held a grudge and she begrudged no one a thing. But in this, the matter of her Byron's happiness, there would be no wavering. Love was a two-way street, but there could be no way Byron had gone willingly into such a scandalous lifestyle, knowing who he was and what was expected of him. In Lara's opinion, her noble leader had an endless capacity to love, but also a strict adherence to duty. He understood what it meant to lead this agency, and Lara did, too. The only one who didn't seem to understand what he was putting into jeopardy (her happiness, Byron's, the very future of the Agency and the credibility of its leader) was one Nicholai Marcel. Byron was infallible. How could her thinking be otherwise, having pledged her loyalty and undying devotion to the man practically on the day they'd first met?

There was a knock on the door and Lara called for her visitor to enter. It was a chambermaid, wanting to freshen the room and deliver the message that Lara was needed downstairs. "Happy days, these," the woman chirped as she entered the room, shaking the creases from the bedspread and glowing with pride. "I had hoped I'd still be in Mr. Callaghan's charge the day he married. And how lucky he is, to have nabbed a pretty girl like you! If you don't mind my candor, miss."

"Yes," Lara murmured faintly, lost in schemes that would never see the light of day and the woman's kindly-meant words. They stung. She shook her head and realized perhaps she had responded in the wrong. "I mean, no. I mean...of course not. Thank you."

The maid beamed and dipped her head respectfully, then turned back to her work with a maddeningly cheerful hummed melody. Lara hurried from the room and charged downstairs, pausing at the foot of the stairs she'd just fled down to catch her breath and reassemble her thoughts. Mrs. Callaghan, a perfectly lovely woman that Lara didn't understand her finacé's strained relationship with, would be arriving shortly, and the whole house seemed to still be in such disarray. The kitchens could wait; her nearly mother-in-law wouldn't see those. She could run outside, check on the flower arrangements. Thank God she'd dressed and done her hair, even if she had lost so much time to daydreams and painful thoughts. Lara was sure her distress showed on her face, but after taking a few deep breaths, she drew herself up to her full height and tried her best to glide nonchalantly out into the bright morning.

After half an hour's time in the sun, Lara paused in the shade of a large old tree and caught the eye of a passing attendant. "Madam?" he murmured, bowing slightly and resettling the silver tray held aloft by his right hand.

"I meant only to inquire as to the whereabouts of Mr. Callaghan?" Lara said, trying her best to sound excited and innocent. She meant nothing by this, no; she was only missing her fiancé, and hoping for his help in the preparations. Poor thing had hardly even prepared his wedding suit, whereas Lara had her dress, veil, shoes, and bouquet ordered and crafted within days of their official engagement announcement. But, still, unable to avoid a rather childish jab at the absent man, she added, "I only hope he hasn't forgotten that he's to be married tomorrow."

"Oh, madam, gracious, no." The servant laughed lightly and shook his head. "He's been preparing all morning, last I heard. I believe he was on his way downstairs when he remembered that he had a few words to share with one of the other agents, is all. He'll surely arrive in due time."

"Surely," Lara agreed with forced joviality. "And who," she inquired further, "might he have been speaking with?"

"Mr. Marcel, I believe."

Lara's eyes darkened and her face hardened. Her false smile was gone and her resolve was breaking. "Thank you," she muttered, dismissing the man with an uncharacteristically curt wave of the hand. The attendant whispered his farewells and disappeared into the whirling crowd of servants and soon-to-be revelers, leaving Lara to stand alone and contemplate her next move. She so wanted to be excited for her marriage, but it was getting harder and harder as time went on. She couldn't keep lying to herself. She couldn't keep lying to Byron. And as long as Nicholai insisted on remaining with the Agency, she would never have a moment of peace with her husband, the only man she planned to love. Something was about to change; she knew it, because she would make sure it did.

She returned to the servants setting tables for the luncheon with a smile.






Damn, but it's good to be back >.<XXXXXXXX

[momo the momi]

BYRON LOVES NICHOLAI BYRON LOVES LARA = CONFUSION

Byron was grateful when Nicholai stepped aside, and let him enter the room: it felt sullen. The room, Nicholai, him, everything, but Byron tried to put on that brave face, until Nicholai closed the door. The leader barely managed to get to the fireplace, every step feeling like weights were strapped to his ankles, before turning around and pulling Nicholai into his embrace. How easy they fell into one another, how easily they forgot about everything going on, when they were alone - it was exactly why Byron relished their time together, because Nicholai allowed him to forget about his life for a little while. He was never truly at peace, unless Nicholai was near him.

And therein lied the danger of Nicholai bringing up his suggestions of another life. Because with enough pushing, Byron just might question everything, and actually leave. He had a trust fund, set up by his father, that he would get tomorrow, as a wedding present. It was established - with a large sum - the day of his birth, and had been gaining interest for twenty nine years. He could empty it out, move it to an international account, and before his mother could try to put a freeze on it, he could leave with Nicholai in the night. They could live comfortably, traveling from one place to another. They would be just fine . . . but Byron couldn't entertain such thoughts for long. What would others say? His mother would die from the shock, and Lara would be crushed.

He owed everyone more, than him running away.

Nicholai tried to pull away, trying to remind his lover that it was he who was going through with this, and that Nicholai grasped the concept, while Byron was there, stirring things up all over again. But . . . this was their last day. Shouldn't they spend it together as much as possible, before tomorrow - before he was married, and they would never be able to touch each other again? It was cruel of Byron to be standing there, clinging to Nicholai, when it should be the other way around, but there he was, still struggling to move forward (which should have been the only sign he needed, that he wasn't ready to be married, and should have cancelled the wedding), but no - he just clung.

Lost in what to say, in how to explain why he was still standing there, Nicholai changed the subject, and openly begged for Byron to reconsider the futile dreams they had once shared. It was a mistake for Byron to have admitted so long ago, that he would like to run off with Nicholai, because ever since, it seemed that the ex-priest was trying to remind him of his words, his inner desires, in hopes that one day, Byron would just "snap out of it", and leave everything behind: his family, his career, his friends, his duty, and obligations. No, he couldn't, but if he didn't stop Nicholai from talking, then, in his emotional state, he just might agree to. Raising his hand, he needed the younger man to stop talking . . . or else he'd have no choice, but to actually listen, and order a carriage for them both to run to the bank now.

What a thought. Them whipping away, while everyone looked on, before draining the bank account, and hitching the first cruise ship to Europe! What a scandal that would be. Everything would be out in the open, and the gossip would fallow them wherever they went.

And then Nicholai gave up. He shifted, and moved away from Byron, and his arms felt empty without his lover's warmth to fill them. He wondered if Lara would ever be able to provide him with that same warmth, or if he would just feel . . . cold, for the rest of his life.

Nicholai asked him what he wanted to talk about, and to be honest, Byron couldn't even remember. He couldn't remember that he was there, to remind Nicholai that this was their last day together (though Nicholai understood it perfectly well, Byron was the one who kept repeating the notion out loud, as if eventually, he'd convince himself to believe it). But as Nicholai avoided his gaze, and stared out the window, Byron felt overcome with something else. He slowly, but with determination, walked over to the younger man, his legs feeling neither heavy, nor weighed down, and stopped just behind him. Nicholai was trying so hard to ignore him, to pretend that it was nothing to have Byron's breath on the back of his neck.

And yet, as Byron's hands reached up, and settled on his waist, the ex-priest couldn't help but move back into his grasp - to settle against Byron's chest, as if it was the most familiar spot in the world. The leader dipped his head down to the space between Nicholai's neck and shoulders, pulling at the cumbersome shirt, until the top button gave way for his lips to brush against the skin. His own breath quickened at the familiar taste, but Nicholai seemed calm and collected, as a strong arm lifted up, and wrapped itself around Byron's neck - keeping him in place. His hands roamed down, and up Nicholai's shirt, feeling the tight stomach of his lover quiver under his touch. It made Byron ache to take it further, but he felt that it was the last thing he could ask for at a time like this. Besides, he was risking everything, by even being in Nicholai's room during the day. If a servant felt a need to unlock that door right now and caught them . . .

Nicholai groaned out Byron's name, and the leader fell right back into it. Right back into moving his hands down - until he reached the waistband of Nicholai's pants. He knew he shouldn't, knew that it was taking it too far, but if this was possibly the last time they touched, then maybe Byron could just take it a little further . . . through a hoarse moan, Byron asked Nicholai to fall back into him - to let him drag the younger man down to the chair beside them, to sit in his lap, and lay against his body, while Byron touched him. Nicholai let Byron support him, to pull them both down, and let him continue, but now Nicholai was beginning to rub his lover's leg, to get tantalizingly closer to that very spot of desire they had yet to explore on one another. And though Byron definitely wanted it, he wanted to watch Nicholai moan more. He wanted to dip his hand past the waistband, he wanted to touch the one area he hadn't been allowed to before.

Nicholai's hips moved against Byron's, soliciting stifled moans he tried desperately to bury in Nicholai's bare neck. It was too much - they wouldn't be able to stop if they kept going. But they had a bit of time, they could technically . . . no, Byron wanted his first time to mean something more than just a quick roll on the bed. He wanted to feel like they had all the time in the world, not just ten minutes.

But God did Nicholai feel good on top of him. The way his hips circled over him, the way his bare stomach felt underneath his firm hand, and the way their breaths staggered, as Byron began to slide his fingertips underneath the waistband. Quickly Nicholai moved his hands from stroking Byron's thighs, to fiddling with the button of his pants. Quickly he pulled open the pants, and Byron saw exactly what he wanted to see. Nicholai, excited by him. Licking his lips, he relished in Nicholai letting his head fall back against Byron, before looking up at him, desperate to kiss him - while Byron glided his hand down to the prize.

Knock. Knock.

No! Not now! Nicholai seemed so wrapped up in the moment, that he didn't even move as quickly as Byron did, who was already buttoning up loose clothes, while the younger man merely mimicked the motion with his own. They both looked guilty as Hell, and Nicholai more red in the face than anything else, but still, if they were seen together now, even an idiot would be able to piece two and two together. So, he did the only thing he could do - hide. Nicholai in the meanwhile shouted back at the door, inquiring who it was, before even attempting to step closer, while the servant yelled back through the door, merely to say that the afternoon reception was beginning in fifteen minutes. Nicholai, about as frustrated as ever, tried to keep his composure long enough, to say he'd be down in time, as soon as he fixed his tie, and the servant left - their foot steps growing quieter down the hall, before Byron peered out from behind the armoire.

They caught sight of one another, and Byron once again, didn't know what to say. Should he ask for more time? Should he leave without saying anything? Could he even question out loud if it would be okay for him to show up later that night, and spend one more evening together?

Nicholai for his part, walked back to the seat, and Byron, at first thinking he wanted time alone, was surprised to see the younger man unbuttoning his pants all over again. This time, Byron wasn't leaving, until he had finished what he had started. They had ten minutes, and that would just enough time, to leave Nicholai satisfied, and allow them to say their good byes, before they put on a stoic face, for those gathered downstairs. The pants fell to the floor, and Byron stood before Nicholai, pulling the younger man's shirt apart all over again, relishing in the way his skin felt under his touch.


XXXXXXXXXXXXX
@~@ HAWT DAMN!

[momo the momi]

Alyssa hadn't spotted her roommate, Lilyana all day. The girl didn't seem to mind having the nephilim by her side these past few weeks, but surely, it must have stung a bit, to see Alyssa lying in Siobhan's old bed. Technically there was no reason why the half angel needed to bunk with her team mate, but she liked the camaraderie that was forming between them lately. When out of state guests were invited to stay in their large home a few weeks before the wedding, Alyssa was the first one to volunteer her room, when all five of the guest rooms were snatched up by the visitors (save one, reserved for Henrietta).

She certainly didn't mind keeping Lilyana company, but the Selkie seemed distant, with just a hint of sadness - and it didn't take a genius to figure out, that it was because of Siobhan. The other selkie had found her lover under the water, and married him as soon as possible. And last they had heard, Siobhan was expecting. But her last letter was two months ago, and the absence of any new news seemed leave Lilyana concerned for her sister's well being. Concerned, and preoccupied. Then again, Alyssa certainly didn't mind the solitude. For centuries she traveled all over the world, and it was only in the last seven decades that she even agreed to join the Agency.

Their were periodic breaks in between of course, where her travel bug took over, and she'd leave for five, ten or fifteen years, but she always returned, more delighted then the last time, by getting to meet new team members, or celebrate her return with old friends. She loved the Agency, deep down, and that was why she always returned. However, one year was probably more special than the any other - especially seeing as the wedding was tomorrow. One year, she returned to find the young man she had had a crush on, older and married. And they had just had their first (and turned out, only) child. A son, an heir, and they named him Byron.

She smiled at the memory of getting to hold him, though Henrietta seemed jealous of the familiarity her husband had with Alyssa, but the new Mrs. Callaghan had no reason to worry. Byron's father was nothing, if not noble in all ways. He would never have been with anyone, if he was not married to them. He held etiquette, and decorum above all things, and Alyssa's easy going nature amused him, but did not suit him. No, nothing ever happened between them, and that was why she was easily able to return right back to the Agency, and watch Byron grow into a young boy. There was another travel bug for a few years in between, but she probably knew Byron for the longest (save Henrietta of course), out of all the wedding guests. And it was endearing to see his life come full circle - to watch him have grown from a small boy, into a man.

With the wedding preparations going on downstairs, Alyssa pressed down her skirt a little, and walked down the grand staircase, to see if she could help. But the house was run so efficiently (even more so, with the extra help for the wedding), that she was politely asked to stay out of their way. The half angel didn't really know what to do with herself, but luckily, she wasn't alone for long, seeing as Henrietta arrived just in time for the afternoon reception. Standing relatively close to the front door, Alyssa was able to greet her first. Henrietta however, must not have expected to see her just yet, and looked genuinely surprised as Alyssa came close to hug her.

The older mother was willing to accept whatever niceties she could get these days, having caused her own small scandal by marrying her husband's brother just ten months ago; and though she attempted to retain her status, it seemed most women could barely hide their contempt for her. But even desperate for some positive attention, couldn't sway Henrietta's own bitter feelings for the half angel. Yet that went completely over Alyssa's head, and she pulled back to look Henrietta once over, "Oh you must be so excited Etta!" The older women frowned at the nickname that only Alyssa would dare to call her, but she muddled through with some manners, and thanked her for the "warm welcome", before asking where the afternoon gathering would be taking place at.

Alyssa lopped her arm around her old friend, and lead them both towards the conservatory outside, where the tables were set, and the silverware laid out. Even Lara was fast approaching the scene, when she realized Henrietta was now there. But for a moment, Alyssa still had the woman all to herself, and she smiled down at her with genuine happiness, "Byron will be so happy to see you."






this has got to be the happiest, we've ever seen Alyssa xD Aw, she's happy for Byron (and yay for some backstory for her!)
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[momo the momi]

Henrietta felt like the bodice was a little too tight for her frame, seeing as the only way she could get comfortable in the carriage, was by laying back, and breathing slowly and steadily. She missed her husband - the new one - and wished he could have been there, when she returned to her old home. Especially seeing as things with Byron were still so unpleasant. She didn't know how to help him get over this new marriage for her, but she understood that bringing her husband (his uncle), was definitely not going to help things. So he stayed behind, sending her on, with a small wedding gift of his own: a small toy that his brother had when he was young. The small box was on the top of her personal handbag, and she stared at the ribbon, as if somehow, she'd be able to see past it, and into the box. She could picture dear Emery playing with it as a small boy, and hoped that Byron would cherish it. It was a small present, but a heartfelt one.

While Henritta's gift was far more manipulative. Funding both a honeymoon, and a vacation for the team, was her sneaky way, of slinking back into Byron's good graces, but nothing seemed to earn her the gleam in his eye, like he used to have for her. It was a sad ending, to a rocky relationship, but she was determined not to give up just yet. It was her after all that had helped him get where he was today: his gift, his team, his friends, and his soon to be wife. If it wasn't for her, who knew what he'd be doing now . . .

The carriage pulled into the long sandy-colored gravel road, and she inhaled sharply, as she looked out the window. Her old home was lit up for Christmas early, the decorations having gone up the day after Thanksgiving. It gave the whole property a festive feel, and Henrietta considered turning right back around. She didn't fit in this scenario. She didn't belong here, anymore than she did with the ladies at the bridge club. It was honestly only embarrassing for her to tag along for this excursion after the wedding, in a desperate attempt to get even the slightest bit of approval from her son. What was she really thinking this would accomplish? That somehow Byron would grow to accept her again? He had yet to do so, and maybe her denial was only leaving them both bitter in the long run.

But the carriage stopped in front of the house, and it was too late to run away now. The driver helped her down, while a pageboy began to unload her bags. She thanked them both, before heading inside, grateful for the small kindness of two men holding either of the two large front doors, open for her. There was a benevolence in coming "home", when technically it wasn't your home anymore, but she feigned a smile, for the obvious servants staring at her, before she saw Alyssa charging at her. She was being even more chipper than Henrietta remembered, and only uncomfortably allowed the half angel to embrace her. When she stepped back to look her once over, Henrietta did the same, and could barely hide her scowl: Alyssa still looked as beautiful as ever, while she had aged horribly from the stress. It was unfair to return there so unnerved, but it was downright cruel to be greeted by an immortal old friend, who could only remind you of just how old you were getting.

Being led outside, after her inquiry as to where the first big event was being held, Alyssa took them to the stone conservatory at the side of the house, overlooking the vast gardens. Fond memories flooded her mind, and she felt genuinely at ease for a moment, before noticing Lara coming up the hill. Nodding over at her, she waved quietly, before Alyssa - unaware as usual - declared Byron's obvious happiness at seeing his mother again. Boy, was she out of the loop. Henrietta cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise let the half-twit relish in her happiness, before turning towards the blushing bride, and greeting her with a kiss on the cheek, "Oh my dear, you must be so happy." Taking her hand, in her gloved one, she smiled, and went on, "Any butterflies yet, about tomorrow?"

ooc banter in a few words or less

[OuEstLaCraie]

Her worries weren't entirely gone, but most of Lara's fears about Byron and their future together evaporated when she realized Henrietta Callaghan was headed her way. Immediately, the younger woman felt underdressed, wearing only a simple dress in a light fabric, perhaps better suited to springtime. But Lara felt immune to the cold - nothing America could throw at her would ever came close to the Transylvanian Alps - and couldn't help but throw her shoulders back and smile softly to show off her youth. She had heard horror stories of other girls, young and engaged and terrorized by their soon-to-be mothers-in law, and Lara knew the Lord Himself had blessed her by placing her firmly in Mrs. Callaghan's good graces. They weren't exactly warm and cozy, but friendly and cordial was enough for her. She knew Alyssa, for example, had known the woman for years, perhaps decades, and she had long learned to forget her jealousy over the obviously close relationship of the two women. And she simply counted her lucky stars that whatever strain existed between Byron and his mother could be exploited to bring the women closer. Whatever issues Byron had with Henrietta, and vice versa, Lara knew she could count on the older woman to talk some sense into her son.

Lara's smile was a little larger, a little more genuine, when she saw Mrs. Callaghan's courteous wave of greeting. She caught the tail end of the conversation between the two women, suppressing a weary shake of the head at Alyssa's comments about Byron's happy reunion with his mother. She came and went, and she didn't always seem to be entirely in the present, but how had the nephilim missed this much familial drama?

Lara waited until she was at the woman's side to raise a hand of her own, then accepted her outstretched hand and gave a small squeeze. "I feel so blessed," Lara agreed, breathless from the walk and hoping it could be mistaken for giddiness. No one had yet asked if she had any doubts, or dared question any tiny outbursts that would never have left her lips the year before. Nicholai, even, appeared as unassuming as the rest. But perhaps that was only because Lara made sure to stay as far from the ex-priest as humanly possible. She didn't mind if she hurt his feelings or stepped on his toes. In Lara's mind, the young man deserved it.

It was clear that either she had become quite a competent actress or each person she snapped at simply chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters or Agency-related stress. Either scenario was acceptable to Lara, as long as it kept the questions at bay. And, perhaps, if all of this fell through (Dear God, You wouldn't let that happen, would You?), she would have another set of skills to fall back on - a flair for the dramatic. "Everything is coming along, at last, and I couldn't dream up a brighter future. My nerves are behaving themselves, for the moment. We'll see how I do when I awake on the morrow to become Byron's wife."

Byron's wife. She would be his and, more importantly, he would be hers. Tomorrow, both mortal and divine law would decree that Byron could look at no other with lust in his eyes or love in his soul. Lara could almost leap on one of the neatly-decorated tables and dance a jig in her happiness. Tomorrow, she would keep Nicholai away. Tomorrow, she won.

"Now, Mrs. Callaghan, have your bags been brought in? Aren't the Christmas decorations out front just grand? Would you like to see more of the goings-on out here? Or perhaps I could sneak away for a moment for a brief respite with both of you ladies." Hoping for the last option, Lara gestured back towards the house with a sweeping hand and made to usher both Alyssa and Henrietta back inside. They could have tea, or perhaps an early sampling of one of the various wines that would be offered to guests after the wedding ceremony tomorrow. Lara already needed a break from the rush of preparations. Plus, she felt like she was only getting in the way of the perfectly choreographed movements of the servants outside. No flower was out of place and no napkin left unfolded.

The only problem Lara could spot in her wedding plans, she found herself quietly admitting, was with herself. She could no longer deny that she was far from the young and naive thing that had been brought to the Agency as no more than a child, even farther from the lovesick and dreamy creature that had been content in her life before Nantucket. She loved Byron still, but differently now. There was no doubt in her mind that this was meant to be, that she belonged with Byron, in whatever way he would have her. But her earlier thoughts, dwelling on triumph and sexual conquest (she felt her cheeks redden, and brushed a hand across her forehead to pass it off as a sudden flush) rather than her impending happiness and her beloved, thinking only of how she could crush Nicholai and win Byron, at last...when had she become so vindictive?






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[momo the momi]

Alyssa smiled back at the sincerity Henrietta showed Lara, and wasn't at all jealous about Mrs. Callaghan not displaying the same kindness with her. After all, Henrietta was more reserved than that, and Alyssa refused to take it to heart - besides, it was good for a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law to get along . . . Alyssa never did, with any of the men's mother's she had married, and look where that got her now? A spinster. Then again, you'd have to be a virgin, living with your parents to be a real spinster, and since neither was the case with her, she had to forget about that title all together.

Watching Henrietta and Lara though was like reading a good book, with a happy ending. All good stories end with a wedding, and seeing the two of them, made her smile. They naturally began to move down the table, practically floating about their shared love for Byron, and feeling like she might be the third wheel, Alyssa came up with some excuse to find Lilyana, before politely dismissing herself. Just before dipping into the house, and looking for more familiar faces, she looked back, and saw them settle for the far end of the table, lost in their conversation.

She wouldn't find Lily for another five minutes, and by then, the afternoon reception was tsarting. Formally being led by caterers, and waiters to the table, she was placed beside Lily, who was placed beside Lara. Lara the bride, Lilyana the maid of honor, and Alyssa, the stand in, just in case they needed it. Henrietta (in lieu of his father), was seated next to Byron (who sat on the other side of Lara), while Ashley was seated next to Mrs. Callaghan - which seemed to intimidate the shy boy. But where was Nicholai? Byron arrived a few minutes late, but he seemed ready to eat - while Nicholai was a few more minutes after that, swinging around the corner, before taking a seat across from the table with the other guests.

Technically, the ex-priest was sitting across from Byron, but neither said anything to the other - though she did catch one faint smile between them, before they began their meal. Alyssa wondered if maybe Nicholai was just upset because Byron made Ashley the best man: when everyone thought that Nicholai would suit the role better. Actually, Alyssa thought it would be sweet for Nicholai to perform the service, but she practically got yelled at over it - and was given some line about it being too painful for Nicholai, to have to step into the shoes of a priest, but to only get to, for a day. Alyssa didn't bring up the matter again after that, afraid she might have actually hurt Nicholai's feelings.

Thanking the waiter for the first course of soup, she consumed the hot broth, grateful for it adding some warmth. The stone conservatory was usually open to the gardens, but closed off during the meal, with warm, cream colored fabrics that allowed for some warmth to be retained. But still, the soup helped, too. Alyssa pondered whether anybody might get sick during the wedding, seeing as it was to be outdoors, but with all the fur coats, and thick layers of fabrics, she had to relent, that so long the service was quick, it would be fine - and beautiful.

In fact, while they ate, the rest of the servants were finishing up the canopy, decorating it with poinsettia's for now, while finishing up the final details for the next day, in the morning. It would be beautiful - to sit there at the table again, the next day, celebrating Byron and Lara united under God and wiith beautiful candles lighting the early evening, before they retired for the night . . . oh, she had to stop herself there - she never liked to imagine one thing or another, when it came to other people's sex lives, but then again, she couldn't help ponder it sometimes, seeing as she had no sex life herself. Hm, better stick to the soup.






Henrietta coming up next =] As soon as I type her up xD
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[momo the momi]

Henrietta relished in the idea of getting to spend a bit more time with Lara, before seeing Byron, mainly because she wanted to be a bit happier, before facing Byron's scowl. Her son and her had never really had a strong Mother-Son bond, and she knew that was because of her taking far too long to accept him, but she had never thought they would stoop to this - for him to publicly grind his teeth at her, as if he struggled to hold back a few words of anger. Well, at least that's how it was the first month or two, after she had remarried. Now, he just avoided her.

But getting to have Lara be so agreeable with her, gave her some hope that maybe her son would come around soon enough - and even visit her and her new husband sometime. She could dream. At least the half twit (i.e. Alyssa) left their side, which relaxed Henrietta considerably, but there were still some pesky guests wandering the property, who tried to hide their idle gossip about her, behind their fans. Who would ever need a fan in December? It was pointless, their jig was up, and Henrietta might have had more respect for them, if they would just stop pretending to play nice, and say what they needed to say to her face. At least, if things were out in the open, she'd have a chance - an invitation - to explain herself. Surely, if people could just understand where she was coming from, they'd back off a bit.

Either sensing her uneasiness with the gawkers, or just because she was ready to sit herself, Lara led them to the table, while Henrietta thanked her for her hospitality. Yes, her bags had been taken right away, and she was grateful that Lara had reserved at least one guest room for her (seeing as she doubted Byron did her the favor). Clasping gloved hands into her lap, she smiled faintly, and looked over at the fabrics being hung for the afternoon reception, which was starting any minute. She spotted the white painted canopy in front of the gardens, behind the fountain, and relished at the memory of having been married there herself, in what felt like a lifetime ago. The last fabric was swung out by the servant on the ladder, and covered the view, which brought Henrietta back to Lara, though her eyes were still fixated on the fabric, "I am glad he chose you Lara."

There were some quiet moments between them, one being that Henrietta felt the urgency to talk with Byron privately before they got married, but with polite reminding that the bachelor parties were that evening, Mrs. Callaghan relented that that conversation might have to wait till the morning. But they didn't really have time to get past the pleasantries, seeing as the servants asked to seat them in their "proper seats". With a sigh, Henrietta fallowed their direction, glad to get to sit next to her son - even if he was running late. Was he trying to avoid her so badly, that he was working himself up to see her? Or worse, stalling, until he could find the resolve not to yell at her? Byron had never "lost it", but he had had so many stresses happen in one short year (and two months) - and one big one was because of her - that she wondered if Byron had reached his breaking point. To be honest though, she couldn't pretend that she deserved any less than his contempt.

However, as soon as he came around the corner, he smiled at her. Smiled! She sat up in her chair, as he pulled out his, kissing her on the top of her head, before taking his place between her and Lara. She felt overwhelmed by the sudden kindness he showed to her, and failed to notice that Byron didn't as much hold Lara's hand at the table. His smiles were reserved for her only it seemed. He ate the three course meal, and eagerly engaged in conversation with everyone, but to Lara he still seemed unphased - he was polite, and cheerful, but he certainly didn't look like a man who was about to be married tomorrow (especially considering he was sitting next to his bride). Henrietta didn't know what to make of his behavior, and assumed that maybe their talk would have to happen sooner, rather than later.

After the meal, the reverend hired for the service asked everyone to join him down at the gardens - at least those involved in the rehearsal - while the rest of the guests were assured that it would only be about twenty minutes, and they could find refreshments in the grand lobby, before the men and women would be separated. Henrietta, not being a part of the wedding tomorrow, fallowed the crowd inside, and caught Byron, escorting Lara down the hill. He looked stiff, and uncomfortable, and she knew - knew that past events were haunting him. Her eyes narrowed to the floor, and she sighed again. She would have to set him straight.

oh Henrietta is "going to set him straight" xD

[Siren Wishmaster]

Nicholai stared out the window pointedly, waiting for an answer that never came. Byron had come up behind him and just stood there. The feel of Byron's hot, ragged breath on the back of his neck sent shivers down his spine. It was torment trying to ignore the man behind him, but this was Byron's choice, Nicholai could only wait for Byron to make a move. Leave or stay. Lara or himself.

When Nicholai felt his leader's arm wrap around his waist, his lip curled up in a smile. He won. Byron choose him. The ex-priest leaned back into Byron's embrace, relishing the familiarity of it. He tilted his head to the side as his lover's lips caressed the skin of his neck and sent a wave of goosebumps down his body. This was all he wanted for the rest of their lives, why couldn't they have it? He stretched his arm over his head and wrapped it around Byron's neck, running his hand through the leader's hair, encouraging him to continue. He shivered a little as Byron's hands found his stomach, roaming over his chest and abs, he inhaled with their movement and exhaled his lover's name in a throaty whisper.

Emboldened by Nicholai's response, Byron let his hands slide down the younger man's abdomen and fleetingly halted at his pant buttons. Whispering in Nicholai's ear a request to go farther than they dared before. He only had to consider it a moment before he nodded approval.

Nicholai's breath grew ragged with anticipation as he let his body fall against Byron, who supported him as they slumped onto the chair. He was shivering in nervousness, and he leaned back, moaning as Byron's hand moved tortuously slow further down his abdomin. Nicholai gently moved his hips, sliding his hand up the inside of Byron's leg. He was rewarded with Byron's stifled moans into his collarbone. When the leader finally slid his fingers past his waistband, Nicholai quickly unfastened the buttons, allowing his lover full access.

The ex-priest lay his head against Byron's chest, their chests rising and falling together, and he looked up at his lover with glazed eyes. 'Oh come on...' He felt Byron's touch...

Knock. Knock.

Nicholai was so dazed that he didn't even register that someone was at the door until he saw Byron's panicked rush of buttoning his clothes. Nicholai shakily got to his feet buttoning his own clothes, panic pumping adrenaline through his veins. His face flushed as he thought what would happen if they were caught, now of all times... There were no two ways about it, they would be found out, and then they would be separated forever by prison, or worse. Trying his best to gain control over his voice, Nicholai shouted through the door "Who is it?" A servant. Nicholai tucked in his shirt and walked to the door. The servant continued, reminding him of the reception for Byron's mother and the rehearsal. 'Damn it all...' He felt uncomfortable in his pants and silently cursed the servant for his wretched timing.

"I'll be down presently, thank you."

The servant finally left, and Nicholai listened to the man's footsteps grow softer as he walked down the hall. He scoffed angrily. The rehearsal... If he was going to make sure Byron was his now and for all time, he would have to work fast. 'If this is what it takes...' he thought walking back to the chair with a new determination. Byron didn't catch on until Nicholai undid his pant buttons and let them fall to the floor, then they were both back on the chair, right where they left off.


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It was well past time for the two of them to be at the reception, but they couldn't help but linger a little while longer as they finished buttoning and straightening their clothes. Nicholai wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck and brought their lips together, sliding his tongue longingly around in his lover's mouth. Byron groaned and they both pulled away, it was time to go. Nicholai grinned at Byron and nodded his assent that they could leave now. Byron gave him a last peck and left the room, checking the hall for people before closing the door behind him. Nicholai waited a few moments before following suit.

When he reached the dinning room, everyone was already there. He found a seat and caught Byron's eyes before hiding his smile and sitting down. He waited patiently for his meal to be served. Once it arrived he contented himself to focus on eating, lest he give anything away. Over the last year he had become very good at hiding what he was feeling, but even he couldn't fully hide his satisfaction or his confidence that Byron wouldn't go through with the wedding. Byron hadn't spoken a word to the demon hunter about his intentions either way, but Nicholai could tell things had changed, there was no way Byron could go through with it now... was there?

He smiled contemptuously at his soup. No. There was no way.




oooooh yeaaah

[momo the momi]

BYRON LOVES NICHOLAI BYRON LOVES LARA = CONFUSION

Byron snuggled into Nicholai's embrace, grateful for getting to have this new experience with him. Grateful to be able to feel the younger man's body tremble over his. It was everything he had imagined it would be, and yet, it (unsurprisingly) left him wanting more. But with energies spent, and emotional exhaustion from all this "back and forth", even Byron felt drained afterwards. There was instead a sense of peace, that washed over him. A gentle joy at being so close to the man he loved, and he had to bite his lip, or else he might have said it right then and there. Might have declared what Nicholai probably already knew in the first place. Byron's arms tightened around the man, and he sighed against his neck: I love you.

He didn't want to leave. Didn't want to face that reality outside of that door, and as that fear replaced his joy, he came to the only (almost logical) conclusion - he couldn't go through with this wedding. The way he felt about Nicholai, the contentment, the joy, the passion . . . Lara would never be more than a comrade, a facade of the man he was supposed to be, but never the man he was going to be happy to be. Kissing the bare skin all over again, he finally noticed that during the whole thing, he had sucked on Nicholai's neck too hard, and an obvious lover's kiss was getting darker. Hopefully the shirt would cover up the evidence, but Byron made a note, of being more careful next time, about where he would leave the evidence of their embraces.

Yes, he accepted that there would be a next time, because he was going to cancel this wedding. He was going to march down there, and tell his Mother first, and then, when most of the guests had retired, he would tell Lara, before making a formal announcement in the morning. Let them talk about the "why's", but Lara deserved better than a loveless marriage for show. She would probably leave, but with the savings from the Agency (every agent has one set up the day they arrive, in order to automatically deduct some of their earnings into it, for when they leave the company), and, Byron and Nicholai would disappear for a little while. They would go where no one would know them, where they could kiss all they wanted behind closed doors, and never fear someone they know walking in on them.

A warm hand wrapped around Nicholai's, their left hands intertwined, and Byron pondered about getting each other rings. To be married to each other in hearts, and minds, no matter how much it would disgust other people. They could head to Europe, and pretend to be brothers, just like Nicholai had suggested from the start, and then they would be happy. Yes, after such a small taste, Byron realized more than ever, that he wanted Nicholai to stay in his arms - forever, "We should get going - "

He could feel his lover tense, but Byron practically purred in his ear, "We could continue tonight." He rubbed his cheek against the ex-priest's, both feeling hot against one another, but Nicholai never did really give his approval to go that far. But Byron was nothing if not patient. He would settle for just getting to touch the man again - and not go further. He just felt a new sense of confidence about it, and couldn't help but at least tease about the possibilities.

Knowing their time was running out, Nicholai stood up first, not even embarrassed about letting Byron get one last look at him, before lifting up his pants. Byron hid his smirk behind a nervous hand, from leaning into the chair. Nicholai was perfect to him, and he felt mischievous, like maybe, if they could get away with it, Byron would take him right then and there. But neither entertained such thoughts for long, knowing better, that the groom would be hunted down soon enough, if he wasn't on time. Finding the drive to get up himself, he buttoned the last remaining one on Nicholai's vest, before the younger man pulled him in for one more kiss. It wasn't a good bye kiss, in.any.way. It was a sensual one, that promised of even better things to come.

Heading downstairs first, in order to try to be less inconspicuous, Nicholai fallowed suit a minute later. Trailing behind the leader, until they reached the edge of the house. Byron stepped out first, and took his rightful place between his mother and Lara, but ironically, it was Nicholai who was placed in front of him, across the table. The implication of the seat design, did not go unbeknownst to him, and Byron shared one brief, genuine smile with the ex-priest, before getting to his meal.

He felt a weight lifted off his shoulder, a new resolve to be happier with his life, and his choices, and even his mother couldn't deter his mood. He even felt so happy, that he greeted her warmer than he had in a year. The only person he tried to avoid, was Lara. He knew that if she started talking about how happy she was, or how much she couldn't wait to be his wife, then he would feel a sense of responsibility to marry her - if only to make her not feel sad.

After the food was done, with a sweet sampling of the wedding cake for desert, Byron was asked to to lead the wedding party to the canopy to practice the wedding rehearsal. Like a robot, he fallowed suit, but he was merely going through the motions. Again, once everyone was gone, he would settle things properly. Thankfully Nicholai was excused as well - blissfully left out, at having to stand up there by Byron, watching him get married to Lara. Which was fine, because Byron would see him soon enough. They would celebrate the silent agreement between them at the bachelor party, before retiring to his room, and then . . . the next morning, he would be free. Knowing that, he could even play the lie of the dutiful fiance better, and helped Lara down the hill, so they could practice their last kiss.

Afterwards, he, Lara, Ashley, Lilyana, and Alyssa headed inside, the reverend settling in for the night, to avoid the "festivities" going on below. Finding most of the guests had left for their hotels, Byron was left to face only those staying at the house. Within half an hour, the bachelor parties were starting, and Alyssa and Lilyana seemed thrilled to lead Lara upstairs to gush over tomorrow. The men however, were heading for the ball room, set up with cigars, and enough alcohol to get the entire guest list drunk, and were eager to get things going already - save for Ashely, who seemed nervous to even attempt to go for something like that.

Henrietta was pulling away, smiling about how she was going to retire as well - but Byron needed to talk to her first, and so, while people began to thin out around them (save for a lurking Nicholai and Lara, on opposite ends of the room), the leader asked his Mother to join him in his library. He couldn't see Nicholai's excitement, or Lara's disappointment, but he felt enough strong emotions all by himself, that in the end, it was probably better not to add their's on top of it.


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going to break up this long a** post with a Henrietta filler,
before getting to Byron's back story =]

[momo the momi]

Henrietta felt that by the time Byron returned inside with the wedding party, his attitude had changed. He seemed more at ease, the more space he put between him and his bride, and though Henrietta felt it urgent to talk to her son, she didn't want to alarm her future daughter-in-law. Didn't want to seem obvious (to everyone), that she was going to need to set him straight. But luckily, Byron asked for her time, all on his own. She had half thought that they wouldn't have a private moment till the morning, but was more than happy to oblige her son's request to fallow him into the library.

Holding the door open for her, she dipped inside, before he closed the door behind them. She knew that this would be a long conversation, and took a seat on the chaise by the window, while he sat down on a small chair opposite of her. A small lamp, nestled on the low table between them, provided an eerie glow to the window pane behind her, but she focused on her son, who seemed fidgety at best, "Yes Byron, what is it?" Her son avoided her gaze, shifting in his chair, as if he wanted to slink back into it, but she wasn't going to relent that easy. He had obviously felt the courage to drag her in there, and he better start explaining just what was so important - "I can't go through with it."

She knew exactly what he was referring to, but still, she feigned ignorance, demanding an explanation, without sounding harsh, "Do you mean the wedding son?" He lowered his shoulders, letting out an uneasy breath, before nodding his head quietly - as if he was still her small boy, who had just admitted the truth, about doing something very bad. Her lips pursed together, and she looked off to the side, before swinging her head back to look at him, "Byron, come here." Her arms extended, and though confused, he was grateful for her comfort. And like a little child, he sat down beside her, leaning against her shoulder, while she ran cautious fingers through his hair, "It is because of that ex-priest isn't it?"

Byron - understandably shocked at his Mother's insight - shot up up, and stammered the obvious reply of "You know?", before she pulled him back down to her. Trying to appear comforting, she went back to stroking his hair, before leaning her head against his, "I had always known Byron, I just hoped you'd give up such things." The leader pushed himself off of his mother, against her strong grip, before seeming defensive about calling his love for Nicholai, "things". But Henrietta didn't let him get a word in, "You are so lost, that you would give up everything for that man out there?!" Byron gave a defiant - though quiet - "yes", ready to try to explain to his mother, just how different Nicholai made him feel, compared to Lara, but Henrietta clicked her tongue to interrupt, and huffed out a chuckle, "You are just like him - "

Byron's eyes grew wide, and he could barely mouth the words . . . it took him a minute, but he finally asked if she meant, that he was like his father - if his father had loved a man, too.

Byron backstory coming up next! DUH-DUH-DUNNNNN!

[momo the momi]

BYRON LOVES NICHOLAI BYRON LOVES LARA = CONFUSION

Byron didn't know what to do, or think - had the man he called his father, carry the same secret desires he had? Confused, yet grateful for a possible explanation as to how he turned out to be like this, the leader looked back at his mother, eager to hear her reply. She on the other hand, practically shot him a dirty look for the implication and frowned, "God no Byron! He would have lynched you on the spot, if he was here right now." The words felt crushing, like each syllable was a jab to his ribcage, and breaking in his chest. Lowering her head, closer to his, she whispered out the rest, "You are like my brother - " Byron wanted to inquire more, but the subject was quickly closed in his Mother's mind - he could tell by the way she shifted back into the pillow behind her. It was a nervous habit, they both seemed to share, and he mimicked the move before finally saying anything, "When did you realize I was different Mother?"

She unfolded her fan, obviously growing uncomfortable, and avoided his gaze as best she could - keeping her attention on the lamp in front of her, "When you left for boarding school." Byron stiffened, already reeling at just how much information might have reached her, from the teacher that had caught him, oh-so-long-ago, "So Mr. Richard's called you after all - " She nodded quietly, before settling further into the pillow, "Your Father took you out the second he learned about it."

Byron faded back to memories of years ago, to the school he had called home from the ages of thirteen, to sixteen, and where he had first realized he was attracted to boys. Coincidentally, a lot of young boys, forced to spend every waking moment together, in close quarters, lead to confused feelings, but Byron's feelings stuck, even after the other's faded. And his feelings, for a certain classmate, named Nathaniel, were blossoming to a point that couldn't be ignored anymore. With hormones clouding his judgement, he allowed himself to get tangled in the young man's arms, inside a classroom, while everyone was supposed to be outside for recess. But they were caught by Mr. Richard's, and Nathaniel was sent away, while Byron begged for secrecy regarding the matter.

It was then, that Mr. Richard's made his deal - to be allowed to hold Byron in his arms, to do to him, what Byron had done just an hour before to Nicholai . . . and Byron consented it. Welcomed it even, because it released all the passion that had been building for far too long. But the teacher became bored of it after a year, and found himself another student (a year younger than Byron), and then . . . his Father came to withdraw him from the school. Obviously, no longer being Mr. Richard's pet, meant his loyalties were cut, and the teacher told his parents about Byron's "questionable sexuality" (but failing to admit his own role of involvement). Heartbroken by the betrayal, Byron stared back at his Mother, tears welling up in his eyes, "I thought I was coming home early, because Father missed me so much - and wanted me to work beside him earlier than expected ~ "

Henrietta who had been fanning herself fervently, suddenly stopped, and shot Byron a glare that revealed her own contempt over the situation, "He did it so he could keep an eye out on you - to keep you in line." Crushed, utterly emotional, he wiped the one tear away that had managed to escape, before finding his resolve again - no longer looking to his Mother for her approval on the matter. If she didn't care about his feelings, he wouldn't care about hers, "I refuse to marry Lara tomorrow, and I will leave the country as soon as possible, with Nicholai." It sounded believable, and Byron was pleasantly surprised to find himself admitting the truth so easily (and out loud).

But Henrietta slapped him across the face, and Byron felt the sting on his cheek, before glaring back at her with equal contempt. She began to go on about how what he was doing with Nicholai was wrong, and that at least with Lara, he'd be able to save himself through the sanctity of matrimony - and Byron saw his opportunity to shut his mother up, right then and there, "The sanctity of marriage?!" He stood up, easily towering over her, "Tell me - was Father's deathbed even cold, before you climbed into his brother's bed?!" Henrietta collapsed into the chaise, utterly shocked by his accusation, and struck silent by his tone. She couldn't deny it, and even worse, she couldn't tell him how to live by the Good Book, if she ran off with her husband's brother.

But she could swing that guilt back to him.

Narrowing her eyes, she fought back her own tears, before raising a finger of protest against him, "I at least did my duty Byron! I gave up everything, for you, and I will not see this line die out - neither for my sake, or your Father's - by you being the last Callaghan!" Byron fell back a little emotionally - she knew exactly where to get him, in order to lay it on thick. Knew exactly that his sense of duty, and honor - and his Father's memory - would keep him on a short leash. He bit his lip, and looked down, "I cannot go through with it, Mother. Heir or no heir, I will be unhappy in this union with Lara - or with any woman." Henrietta stood up, and slowly stepped closer to her son, before hugging him. He finally felt some semblance of hope and comfort in her arms, and fell into her grasp, exhausted from the emotions pouring out of him. She reached up, and stroked his hair all over again, and he smiled into the lace fabric, covering her shoulder . . . "It does not matter if you're happy son."

His eyes widened, and she pulled away from him, leaving him by the chaise, empty and emotionally shell shocked, while she returned to the door. Gripping the handle, she didn't even bother looking back at him - seeing as all he could do was stare at the ground, before leaving him with one final blow, "Your purpose in life, is to provide an heir, just like it was my purpose. Nothing more, nothing less. You owe your Father, to fulfill that purpose Byron." Opening the door, she closed her fan, and gave him a smile - a smile! - "See you at the wedding."

Byron fell into the chaise, robbed of any sanity for the moment, and lost in his own tumble of thoughts - desperately trying to find the will to move, and not break down, but he'd need more than a few minutes . . . but in his hour of need, he failed to notice Henrietta's eyes flash with a red tint. The demon was assuring that everything was falling into place, and that, the group, would still arrive in two day's time at the theater, in order to wreak her havoc.



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daaaaaaammmmmnnnn ~ holy crap that was intense! <<;

[mirra mirra]

It was hard for Ashley to not go running for the hills when the reception started; he was so utterly intimidated by the woman sitting next to him. Henrietta was, after all, the very woman who had brought the young man’s hero into the world. She was also the one to knock him off his feet not too long ago, by so quickly re-marrying after Byron’s beloved father’s death.

For that reaction, there was a certain amount of immediate dislike that was difficult for the forensic anthropologist to overcome. Not that she’d ever know about it, though. The blonde young man was too busy trying not to whimper whenever she paid any minute amount of attention to anything in his near vicinity, which was quiet often due to the seating arrangements.

This is ridiculous.

The whole situation was, really. He should not have been put into such a position. Ashley was under no illusion that he was anything more than the secondary choice for best man, and that put on a certain amount of pressure. He was, after all, being expected to fill Nicholai’s shoes. Nicholai’s! It was beyond preposterous! It made him feel as though any misstep—and, he had a feeling, almost everything he did was an error to Mrs. Callaghan—was just one more reminder of his being second rate.

So the mild-mannered young man tried to blend in with the scenery, only speaking when directly spoken to, and trying not to be too… well, Ashley-like. It included a lot of staring at the tableware, and being very careful not to suffer a bout of typical clumsiness.

Lately, he’d been using Alyssa as a way of distraction while around guests, because she was familiar, friendly, and obviously understanding of his little plight. However, she seemed preoccupied between catching up with Byron’s mother—an old friend, from what he understood—and trying to keep Lilyana talking.

The blonde glanced over at the selkie, and felt himself deflate even further. He wanted to be talking with her, instead of sitting next to Byron’s—he’d never say it to her face, but, really—precocious mother. His friend had been getting worse and worse, lately, and seemed in need a cheer. Between Alyssa and Ash, they had kept her talking and functioning, but the visiting guests were putting a strain on their efforts.

The youngest Selkie sister had always been close to Ash, so it was no surprise that they spent an inordinate amount of time together. True, it bordered a tad indecent from society’s perspective, but that hardly mattered while they were at home. Seeing as the Agency—and, more importantly, their team—understood that Lily came from a completely different environment, their closest friends were willing to make a few social exceptions. However, with so many guests and Byron’s mother running around the place, these allowances had been temporarily revoked. He hadn’t really even seen Lilyana the last few days, beyond a few awkward run-ins. He missed his friend, and her absence was depressing.

To be truthful, the entire reception seemed to be in the same mood, and it was making Ashley worse as he frowned at the selkie's down-turned face.

Apparently feeling that someone was looking at her, Lily glanced up and caught his eye, making the you man’s heart feel as if it had skipped a beat, and he barely managed a small smile. She returned it, thankfully, and Ash was about to speak up, when Henrietta voice interrupted him. His eyes once more found the china’s familiar patterns as his food—barely touched—was taken away and replaced by a sample of cake.

Everything seemed to flow passed Ashley from that point. They had a brief rehearsal of the wedding, in which his only real obligation was to stay out of the way and pretend to be a part of the stone work. Everything else was either dictated by tradition or already—essentially—scripted by those orchestrating the entire affair. The only bright side was that he got to walk next to Lily during their entrance and exit.

After the rehearsal, everyone seemed to disperse rather quickly, including Byron and his mother. Apparently, they needed to speak for a moment before the ‘parties’ were underway, though Ash would be happy to let them talk for the entire night if they so wished. As the best man—even if he was supplemental—he was obligated to be a large part of the festivities. But, really, the whole thing made him uncomfortable. Cigars made him cough, he had an incredibly low tolerance for alcohol and spending time with strangers made him awkward. Toss all of those aspects together into one room, and Ash found that he’d much rather suffer through a full-fledged one-on-one session with Mrs. Callaghan, even if it meant that he was strapped to a chair with her brandishing a hot poker as she demanded that he recite etiquette lessons without stuttering.

Where did that idea come from? The ex-doctor shook the image from his mind, frowning, and went about trying to find something to do.

In the end, Ashley ended up simply sitting in the drawing room so that he would be easy to find. The girls had all headed upstairs, leaving him to thumb through the pages of a book that had been left out from one of the team members, unsure where Nicholai was but unwilling to pester him. He didn’t want to bother either man, especially because he felt like he had somehow stolen the ex-priest's rightful place in the wedding. No, Ashley would simply stay where he could be easily found and at least try to make an effort at giving having a good time with his two teammates.

[momo the momi]

BYRON LOVES NICHOLAI BYRON LOVES LARA = CONFUSION

Byron heard the excited shuffling going on in the ballroom, not a hundred yards away. Cigar smoke, and Irish whiskey already filled the nearby rooms, and the sensory overload distracted him long enough to realize that he had been sitting in the library alone for over fifteen minutes. His mother had left him to his own defenses: utterly emotionally beat down, and now having to go back out there, and pretend some more that everything was 'fine'. The idea of it made him sick to his stomach, but God forbid that Nicholai and Lara might still be out in the large grand hallway connecting all the lower floor rooms, by themselves no less. They managed to avoid one another quite well, but with tensions (and stakes) as high as these, could something be happening now? He didn't know which was worse. Stuck in his own thoughts, alone in the library, or going out there, and possibly needing to stand in between them, and pretend that neither of them meant more than the other. It was a sickening balancing act, and he was done playing it.

Forcing himself up from the chair, he ran a shaky hand through his loose curls, tucking the loose strands behind his ear, before quietly stepping out of the room. He found neither Nicholai or Lara, and could only imagine what had happened. Something along the lines of - once having seen Henrietta step out with a smile - Lara and Nicholai instantly understanding where they stood. Byron could imagine the crushing blow to Nicholai, as he raced back to cower in his room in defeat, while Lara, gracious for her future mother-in-law's insistence on marriage, eagerly retiring upstairs with Alyssa and Lilyana to look forward to the next day. Maybe it was better this way though. Neither would see the despair on his face, as he looked out into the emptiness in front of him.

Heading down the grand hallway, he turned to the right, fallowing the noise straight to the ballroom, where he quickly plastered a (tired) smile across his lips, before being greeted by a roaring crowd of already tipsy men. Decorum had seemingly been forgotten, and they all had had several drinks under their belt by the time the man of the hour showed up. Though, in Byron's opinion that was even better, because he wouldn't have to work so hard on the facade of being a happy groom. His low profile entrance though, didn't actually allow him to escape the cheers of his comrades - various agents from other countries, as well as old school friends. It was an eclectic mix, but the happiness of a wedding, seemed to unite even the most hardened of men, and they gleefully led him further into the room, and began handing him drinks. After several toasts, he had still not touched the hard liquor (much to their dismay), and they began to get impatient as they encircled him. He was ready to make every excuse under the sun, as to why he couldn't/shouldn't/wouldn't, but honestly, it was really because drinking had a usual "joy" affect on him, and he didn't want to cheapen the very raw emotions he was feeling, by pouring alcohol all over them - even if it meant that the guests might catch onto his depressing state of mind.

But then, as he scanned the sea of faces, he caught the one man he least expected to see: Nicholai.

The ex-priest was fuming, but with a definite mix of grief in his eyes, probably thinking that this was it, their last night, and here Byron was, ready to 'party on' (though obviously nothing could be farther from the truth!). It took everything for the leader to stay right there, and not charge at his lover. But as their linked gaze lingered, Nicholai grew impatient: finally understanding that Byron was never going to call off the wedding. It was happening whether either of them wanted it to, or not. And now, they couldn't even be allowed to have their moment, to hug and cry, and comfort one another. Instead, Byron and Nicholai would be separated by; other men, wedding guests, the social ladder - and everything else that stood between them. It was far too much for Nicholai, and with anger quickly taking over, he stormed out of the room - leaving Byron to drown his sorrows for a sheer lack of anything else to lean on.

After twenty minutes of - far too many - shots, Byron felt dizzy, and was quickly forgotten by all the other guests who were beginning to pass out on the various chairs and tables provided by the staff. If the leader didn't know any better, he might have suspected that somebody added some sort of drug to the mix, for it seemed as if Byron had to stumble along the wall for support to find the only available chair left. It wasn't until he had reached it, that he realized Ashley stood beside it - or rather, that Ash was practically hiding behind the plant nearby it. "Ashhhhley?" Byron whispered with a smile, that wasn't as quiet as he had imagined in his drunken stupor, "Wha-what - " holding onto the chair for support, he leaned forward, and laid a bent knee across it, for balance, " - what are you doing back herrre?"

Ashley began to stutter uncomfortably, though Byron didn't seem to be so astute with alcohol impairment. So completely interrupting the younger man, Byron awkwardly leaned closer and looked utterly defeated, "I am - sooo sorry for not being the best groom." Ashley looked understandably confused, but Byron continued before a quiet 'Huh?' could be exclaimed, "As best man, you deserved a better groom - a more apricot one." He of course meant to say 'appreciative one', but that didn't quite come out right in his slurred speech.

Ashley, becoming even more nervous of course, tried to downplay what he was really feeling by stuttering a barely coherent 'that's okay' kind of reply. But Byron was far from done. In fact, at that stage, the leader felt like Ashley might have been the only real friend he had left in the world - simply because Ash was the only one not passing out drunk around him. Though that could be changed quickly! Raising the still full glass he had somehow managed not to spill yet, Byron shoved it towards Ashley, "You ARE the best man - I realllly mean that Ashley!" His voice grew louder with each passing word, until some of the less comatose guests raised drunken hands, awkwardly in the air, thinking it was another toast. Ashley was probably ready to faint from the attention, when Byron shoved his drink into his thin fingers and linked their arms together, "Let us raise a toast to the best man!"

With whatever last bit of strength the guests had, they aimed it at the two men left standing, but as Byron smiled back at his guests, Ashley was quick to discard the alcohol behind him (or over his shoulder, who knew for sure). After that, the last guest was done for, while Ashley talked about the time nearing midnight, and needing rest (politely suggesting the same for Byron). And in that one small moment, the leader was sobered up - well, as best as can be expected. Being reminded of what faced him upstairs, killed his buzz, and dulled his senses. A weary smirk was all Byron could muster as he began to walk past his best man. He mumbled something about 'of course', and nobody stopped him, but he hated the idea of going to bed alone - and decided right then and there, that he wasn't going to.

Maybe it was the liquid courage, or the sobering reminder from Ashley, or just his mother's words from earlier. Whatever did the trick - or better put, broke the emotional dam - wasn't relevant, because it was really a bit of everything. And Byron felt damned if he was going to give up his last night with Nicholai, just because the ex-priest wouldmight object.

The house was quiet, most rooms merely filled with the noise of cackling wood from the fireplaces. But thankfully the walls were thick enough to cover his heavy, stumbling feet, while the carpet underneath him masked the tapping of his shoes. It surprisingly took him little effort to reach Nicholai's room, but once he stood in front of the all too familiar oak door, he was left with his usual self loathing. That chip on his shoulder, that kept insisting that he didn't really deserve all the things he wanted. And what he wanted more than anything, was Nicholai.

But maybe that was the real reason he had allowed himself to drink so much. Because the alcohol numbed his reasoning, to the point that standing, and stalling himself now, was starting to give him a headache. Reaching for the door knob, the only questioned left, was would he have to break down the door? There was a skeleton key somewhere around the house - though would he actually wake the butler to fetch it for him? Neither point mattered though, because to his utter surprise, the door was unlocked, and Byron practically fell through the threshold, as he braced himself against the wood panel.

Nicholai stood there in front of his fireplace, his cheeks red - though whether from the heat from the fire, or from possibly crying, Byron couldn't tell. There was that look again, that look of contempt, as if Byron was purposely trying to torture him by actually having the nerve to show up - but he must have hoped for it, or why else would Nicholai have left the door unlocked? Unless he had merely forgotten? Though the latter thought seeped right past him. He was ready to cling to anything for hope, including Nicholai, and shutting the door behind him, he fumbled with the lock, all the while the ex-priest protested against his presence in the room. Byron made out some ranting about 'his choice' and 'needing to face them', and honestly just cut the ties, but the leader heard only bits and pieces.

Continuing forward, as if on a mission, Byron scooped Nicholai into his arms, and pressed him firmly to his chest. As soon as Nicholai parted his lips to argue against it, Byron forced his mouth over his. Nicholai pressed against his lover, even hitting his fist against the older man's arm, but honestly, Byron barely felt it, and the same hand that had landed against his muscle, was now rubbing it, and deepening the kiss. The fire was overheating him (or was that passion?), either way, our leader felt an incessant need to rid himself of his clothes, and he let go of Nicholai just long enough to throw his jacket to the floor. Byron half expected a wayward glance from the ex-priest, as if now that they had stopped kissing, Nicholai could maybe think clearly enough to stop this 'non-sense', but surprisingly it was the younger man, who stepped closer and began unbuttoning Byron's vest - and then his shirt.

And Byron mirrored the movements with Nicholai's clothes.



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♥