Chapter 24
Previously: Obsidian: Crystal Heart – Chapter 23
Maybe there’s another opening for Quincy, because this is bugging him. The signs of a lonely child growing up with somebody who isn’t as nice as they thought are so obvious on Arthur. It would be so easy now to just blame everything on the demon, and not learn and thereby grow from what happened before a demon was involved.
Quincy refuses to let Arthur build that excuse and chain for himself. “Did you have any choice in being his friend before? Can you tell me the good things he did? Can you tell me the things you forgave him for because of those?”
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“Um,” Arthur says, because… “It’s been so long… I don’t know about having a choice? I mean, he was the only one who wanted to be my friend, everyone else…” He shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, I was the ‘witch boy’ and the necromancer’s son, so…”
Nice things Gregory did? “He’d hug me sometimes? And we’d stay warm together in the winter. And he’d play with me. And get money after my father got arrested…” He shivers at the knowledge how Gregory got that money.
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After a moment or three of listening to Darcy’s thoughts and wiping at her tears starting to well, Quincy pulls some things together.
“Would he tell you he doesn’t care and that was supposed to make you feel better? Did he hug you and then the moment you forgave him, he’d go on as if it never happened even if he caused it? Did he say he was good at social things but actually got you in trouble the second you weren’t keeping an eye on him?”
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“Uh.” Arthur blinks, blinks again, and tries to comb his memories, but… well. “…Yes?” He’s never put it together like that- it sounds rather bad when Quincy says it. “Should it… uh, it shouldn’t be like that… should it?”
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“Sure as fuck not!” John grunts and no, his hand on Arthur’s shoulder isn’t trembling, that’s just supportive squeezing. “‘I don’t care’ is not what you say when you actually care about the person. ‘I don’t care’ is not what you say when your girl wants to be loyal to you. ‘I don’t care’ isn’t what you say when somebody thinks he’ll get kicked out of his home. ‘I don’t care’ is not the fucking answer when your girl frets about being barren and then you force the guy with an intimacy-phobia to research making babies for fuck’s sake!”
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Well, Quincy would have put that a bit softer, but it’s not as if he disagrees.
“Now, those, of course, are examples of when we knew him, but it sounds to me as if you might have your own examples, honey. From everything I’ve heard from Cycy, there has been a trajectory of growing problems, but some were there from the very start.”
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Oh. Well. For some reason, Arthur finds his eyes stinging again. He isn’t quite sure about all the examples John is talking about, he doesn’t think he has the context, but…
“I was mad at him when we met because a little bit earlier, he convinced me to go to a church to prove he wasn’t a demon and when he stepped inside, he started screaming that he’s burning. And… and I don’t even know what was worse, thinking that he really was a demon, or that he was dying again.
“But then it was only a joke. And… and he thought it was funny. And I thought… it wasn’t funny at all. But also now he really is a demon…” Arthur has no idea where that leaves him, emotionally.
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“Vampires, selkie traffickers, what is adding a demon to the ‘things to deal with’-list?”
Quincy agrees with that quip, and isn’t even surprised when he catches the downright pouty thought from Darcy that a specific vampire isn’t a ‘thing to deal with’. If he ever gets a safe chance to talk to Radu, he just might have to so this pouting finally stops and she can focus her heart where it belongs. With him! And with John.
“What my darling said, but also, that joke sounds so exactly Gregory, it’s spot on and very much idiot-boy, not demon. A demon would have an interest in maybe not letting you know what he is, after all. That was strategically absolutely stupid.
“Speaking of strategy… notice something? Also, how come I’m the one pointing it out? But, he waited until the very second Darcy was alone in the house. I think he tried to go for me this morning when I was alone in bed, too. But I felt uneasy, so I ran for my lovelies. He didn’t pursue. And he’s never tried to attack you, Arthur. Whatever it is, he’s scared of you and John.”
Oh please, his darling shouldn’t try to hide how obviously pleased he is with that. He has a right to that smugness.
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“…He is?” It’s true, he hasn’t tried to attack him. “But… what do we do now? I guess… I guess I’ll have to look up how to exorcise a demon…?” He shudders a little at the thought. But only a little.
A few months or maybe even weeks ago, that would’ve seemed like his worst nightmare. But now… now he’s not going to be alone after. He looks from one to the other, and no- he told them everything and they’re still here.
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“I was the one person without an obvious magic hangover from the last stint we did,” yes, that’s what Quincy is going to call that bloody ritual, it doesn’t deserve to be called anything more reverent, “so maybe I can help with that?”
He smiles at Arthur and isn’t going to admit how much safer he’d feel knowing that those hungry eyes might never be on him again.
Maybe it’s that wish for being safe that gives him a short spike of utterly idiotic hope when everybody startles at the sound of the phone. Last time it was his mother, but no, that’s impossible. Still, somebody will have to answer… ah, clearly John had the opposite instinct. Not hope, suspecting trouble, so of course the protective darling marches off to deal with it.
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“I’d be very grateful for your help,” Arthur assures Quincy after his heart has settled down from its startled jump. “And, um… your care?”
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“Honey, you need an extra helping of that care. Luckily for you, the healer is in the house a bit longer than anticipated.” Winking first at Arthur, then at Darcy, there’s really only one thing to do. Put a kiss on Arthur’s cheek and one on Darcy’s lips. Still too cold, but he thinks it’s getting better. He wants to pour his care into his queen so she can shine again with all the fire she has, but clearly, that might take some hours at least.
And going by the look on John’s face when he’s already coming back, maybe he has one more person to care for?
Oh… oh Divine. Yes, he does. But so not in the way he thought. That face is for a certain very opportunistic and delightfully go-getter-minded lady. A certain Miss Powlett apparently didn’t give John a chance to find a good excuse, and didn’t so much invite herself as just state that she’ll be over tomorrow. If John looked any more nervous and unsure, Quincy might dissolve into giggles.
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“Tomorrow?!” Arthur doesn’t even mind that it comes out as a squeak, because… “But… but we have all this going on…” He waves a vague hand at Darcy.
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“I will be fine. I can’t ruin this for John.” Darcy’s voice feels so brittle, like she has to maneuvre it around the ice crystals in her throat. And she knows she has to be good for John. Her wonderful, hopefully, if she finally can stop being silly, future lover. But even if she loves him right, she can’t give him puppies, so she needs to keep sitting on her drac, and she needs to be good for him by hosting this other woman. No snarling allowed.
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If Quincy for a second thought this was about politics, he’d smack Cycy again, but underneath everything, no, this is about love, about Darcy’s and John’s dream of having a child, or, horror of horrors, probably more than one, even if Darcy can’t be the one getting gross for it. So no, he won’t smack. Instead, he gently pats her cheek.
“You can welcome her from the fainting sofa if need be. Frail lady might be funny to teach you to play. If I get enough time between fixing our darling’s clothes and talking his nerves down.” Good, that finally got John to pull himself together, that got their manly man to grunt pseudo-dismissively and walk over to punch Quincy on the shoulder.
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“Do I have to be there? Can I just, like, greet her and then disappear? …Would that be rude?” Arthur asks, because he now has far too much else to think about and feel to try and play at good society manners.
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“If she pulls paperwork on me I’m dragging you out of the library.” Yes, it’s a joke, but John also means it. That woman… okay, fine, he admits it, he clearly has a bit of a type, getting steamrolled like that, maybe, just maybe he might get to really like his potential future wife. And she is totally the kind of shrewd person who knows that her best chances might be to act fast and talk him into something binding. Especially if she dares to just declare she’s coming by. And he’s well aware that technically, they have a lawyer for things like that, but if he can spare Quincy from having to see his sister, eh, they can handle one piece of contractual work.
Wait, is he really thinking that she’ll pull a nuptial or engagement contract or whatever on him? Tomorrow, on second meeting? Surely not…or is he?
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“Fair enough,” Arthur concedes, then glances around. “…Now what?” He looks at Darcy. “Is there anything more I can do? I can’t heal whatever he did magically…”
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While Darcy shakes her head against Arthur, clearly not planning on moving away from him, Quincy translates for her and also adds John’s obvious experience with this. It’s all about balancing her out. Making her feel back in control of herself, and that’s why he asks Arthur (without giving away any information about what happened in London in front of Darcy) if he can let his mother know what they learned about the hunters.
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Right, that, yes.
Which is what they do- scrying and communicating that they haven’t found anything useful about the hunters and still need help, and Arthur’s pretty sure Art will be coming as well tomorrow, which will be interesting, depending on when, in regards to Miss Powlett.
Afterwards, he has a headache again, so he’s more than happy to curl up with Darcy and be a pile of recovering cuddles while Quincy and John stay on top of the barony paperwork.
It’s… oddly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The last time he cuddled with someone in a bed, of course, was with Gregory, and he’s been used to that.
But Gregory is now a very sore spot, and this is Darcy and John and Quincy, but also… maybe it’s comfier with them than it ever was with Gregory.
And he doesn’t just mean the state of the bed.
Maybe… maybe he feels safer.
Maybe things will be alright?
Without discussing it, they stick together all day, stay put, through meals and work that the house delivers. By the time the sun sets, Arthur’s headache is gone again and Darcy is feeling more lively, and is not the only one who’s feeling a bit cooped up and stir-crazy.
So, they decide to head out. Still unwilling to separate, so Arthur will ride with Quincy for care and cuddles and sensing if Gregory approaches, invisible or not, and Darcy will wolf run, and John will bring the rifle- alright, not to hunt, to spare Quincy’s nerves. For protection, while they go visit Darcy’s bunnies.
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The light of the moon woke her drac up more, and that helps so much with shaking the last crystals out of their shared fur. Darcy takes a long few moments to just do that, shake her fur out vigorously, and for good measure scratch all over herself. Better, so much better. Even if Quincy is telling her that if she gives him fleas, he’ll drown her in the bathtub with every possible tincture they have in the house.
Now she’s wondering if that’s one of those requests in disguise she knows he does. She’ll have to ask John. She’s sure she can find some fleas somewhere… or just not lick them up and eat them next time she feels one bite her.
Being out does her so good and gives her energy back, and Hannibal and the fey horse can keep up, so she yipps and starts running. Weaving through their gardens and underneath hedges so Hannibal has something to jump over, she leads them right to the fallen tree where her bunnies live. She’s not been out here for a bit, so yes, she told them to bring food along. She’s so looking forward to sitting with everyone and petting her bunnies and just… not thinking about Gregory. She doesn’t want to think about him. Or his silly demon.
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It’s not the first time that John’s out here. Of course not. It’s him and Darcy with the outdoorsy dates. So he remembered to grab a blanket. She might like to plant her butt right into the frost-covered ground, the rest of them don’t, especially not Quincy. He doesn’t need that constant complaining. He even brought a pillow, hands it to Quincy with a grinned ‘for your bony ass’ before he sits down and throws Arthur a carrot.
“Better get ready. We feed the little fuckers too well, they all come running.”
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The air might be cold, but between the nice warm clothes the house provides and the company, Arthur finds he doesn’t mind at all. And it’s true, bunnies come hopping up to them, unafraid, cute little noses twitching. Arthur shoos Hannibal off sternly, because he’s looking far too curious, and tells him not to scare them. And then he really has a bunny tugging at the carrot, almost pulling it from his fingers, teeth crunching eagerly.
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“Even I have to admit they’re cute.”
That doesn’t mean that Quincy wants any hair on his clothes, so he holds the salad leaf further away from him, and no, that’s not his own snack, no matter what Darcy always says. But as long as she’s not making comments, he won’t make any comments about how utterly nice that bunny fur would be for some fashion accessories.
He’d get mauled for that thought so he keeps it to himself. Not that he knows how he is the villain here when he knows full well that Darcy goes hunting with the hunk and chews on dead things. But clearly, the bunnies calm Arthur down, too, so this is an enjoyable enough night activity.
He got his due earlier with getting John to play mini fashion show for him. Well, him, and in front of the adorably cuddled-up social-meh front that is Arthur and Darcy. Getting their comments on which of the outfits John should wear tomorrow for Miss Powlett was just hilarious. Not an ounce of fashion sense between the two of them, but at least Darcy has a good ear for which shoes make the most satisfying click to show off John’s manly gait. And Arthur is just utterly biassed towards blue, no, no, really not John’s colour, offset his blue eyes, don’t make them go under. At least he got John to punch him and Darcy to huff, yes, an actual huff, when he asked for the opinion closer to Miss Powlett, after all, he can only contribute the molly slobber perspective.
Oh yes, no matter how this goes tomorrow, if nothing else, he can use it to make Darcy boil with how much she wants their resident manly man! Just as he thought, nothing a bit of actual competition can’t stoke.
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Arthur is distracted by the bunny climbing into his lap to get at that carrot, and how soft its fur is, but then he hears some strange noises and when he looks over, Darcy is surrounded by a swarm of animals- bats and mice and even a fox, and she’s beaming and making chittering and baying and squeaking noises at them. He’s blinking, but John is all matter-of-fact and even telling them some names, and Arthur realises that when John off-hand said Darcy got ‘distracted talking to a bat’ the other day, he meant actually talking- and that is so cool!
It’s hard to tell in the moonlight, but he thinks Darcy even blushes a bit when he tells her so, and asks her about what everyone is saying and says hello to them.
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“Well, unless that fox finally admits that no, my hair is the nicer red, I don’t want to hear another cackle out of her. Bitch,” Quincy huffs and gives the fox a death glare, arms crossed and everything, but at least Darcy has the decency to defend him, before she tells Arthur all about the terribly mundane lives of her friends. What does Arthur expect?
Not that Quincy cares, because while the details of mouse concerns are boring, the way Darcy’s enthusiasm paints the night with every possible colour of the Divine means he could listen to her for hours. No matter if John leans over and teases him with a ‘smitten dolt’. All Quincy can say to that is: “That makes two of us, so shut up and enjoy the show.”
Quincy gets to enjoy even more of a show when Darcy insists that Arthur can’t sleep alone! No, her sofa is still there, right where he slept last time, too! And from there, it’s a hilariously awkward dance between John and Arthur on not getting flustered. Well, it would be even funnier if John didn’t tell both of ‘his dracs’, (uh huh, who’s being obvious here, darling?,) that they need to wear something or they’ll traumatise Arthur.
What John doesn’t have to tell them is that they need to be quiet this time with their bloodbond. No making Arthur uncomfortable with their normal moaning from it while the poor honey is in the bathroom. Well, not as if sneaking bloody kisses isn’t its own reward.
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This wasn’t how Arthur expected this day to end, but… he likes it. Yes, it’s awkward and weird and he is indeed very grateful for John getting everyone to wear something to bed, but it’s also really cosy. He likes that they’ve all stuck together ever since this morning.
He feels… included. Accepted. Not hanging around at the edges.
What he thinks and feels about Gregory, he still doesn’t know. Somehow, he hasn’t really had time to come to any conclusions today, despite the fact that overall, it was a quiet day. You’d think he could’ve done his thinking while he was dozing most of the afternoon. But his emotions feel big and vague and like they drift away from his mental fingers, unwilling to come into focus.
Maybe tomorrow. For now, he cuddles into pillow and blanket on Darcy’s sofa, with genet and Katharina to boot, and drifts off while listening to John and Quincy bicker and Darcy giggle at them.
It’s a good sound.
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7 Jan 1900
The way John knows his dracs, tomorrow night will be straight-up porn after they spent tonight with Arthur, family-friendly adventuring all over the dreamscape. Those two are going to run after him as if he designs lingerie with ease… Okay, fine, maybe he actually does by now, it’s been lots of nights with those two at this point. He’s spent well over two months in the dreamscape with them. Fine, he can come up with some more drac games for them.
For right now, he yawns, grabs down without looking and disentangles the wolf leg, (which is fine to be on top of him,) and the molly leg, (which is not fine to be on top of him.) “Molly, you are cuddly again. Wake up before I find more of you squished against me.” Wait, shit, Arthur’s in the room. Hopefully, that wasn’t too explicit.
He has to push the pile of fur that is Darcy’s ruff to the side to have a chance to look over to the sofa. Of course, the kid is up already. So, uh, sheepish grin and a mumbled good morning… right in time for Quincy’s still half-asleep whining: “You’re warm, you can’t make me move, it’s too early.”
Yeah, his life with dracs. He could have done without putting that on display for Arthur.
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Arthur returns the smile- he’s pretty sure they’re both feeling awkward, but still. He considered going down for breakfast, but he really didn’t want to go out into the house alone.
Maybe it’s stupid. They said Gregory was afraid of him. But still… Arthur doesn’t want to meet him, definitely not alone. So he decided to stay here, reading, Katharina on his lap, even though yes, he is a bit hungry.
Quincy’s and John’s sniping, though, far from making him uncomfortable, actually… feels nice. Friendly. You can tell they’re friends and like each other, somehow.
Maybe it’s how John doesn’t seem to mind Quincy being close to him or touching him, how he seems to grumble just for show. There’s smiles to go with the grumbles. Of course, if you sleep in a bed with someone, you kind of need to be comfortable with having them in your personal space. And Quincy and John clearly have that, now.
Which is… pretty surprising, actually? It hasn’t been very long that they’ve known each other. But of course, there’s the dreamscape- Arthur’s only spent a few nights now enjoying his mage tower present, but already it’s distorting his sense of time, of how long ago just the day before was.
They take their turns in the bathroom, and Arthur lets Katharina out the door to find her own way down to the ground floor and a door or window the house can open for her to the outside. Quincy gives him an amused eyebrow when he apologises to her for not accompanying her downstairs, and it’s not that Arthur thinks she minds, really, but… he feels like he’s neglecting his duties as cat owner.
John teases about whether he needs to wake Darcy up for her to have a chat with Arthur’s cat, but then Katharina marches off happily enough. Darcy still gets woken via bacon not much later once again, and is visibly happy not just about Quincy and John being there, but also Arthur.
Spending the morning together like that definitely helps with the nervousness due to Miss Powlett’s imminent arrival, for Arthur, at least.
John makes sure both the dhampirs eat enough, and Quincy fusses over everyone’s outfit, and also helps Darcy with her make up- after doing his own.
Yes, it turns out Quincy actually wears make up, which wasn’t something Arthur had realised before. So he’s a little fascinated to watch as Quincy puts various colours on, and then, somehow, makes it look like they’re not even there while still, somehow, looking… fresher? than before. (He doesn’t really want to say ‘prettier’, because, well… it’s not like he’s not pretty without it.) He does his best not to stare, because that would be rude, but still- it’s intriguing.
John quips at Quincy that he better not dress up fancier than him, he’s the fiancé to be evaluated here, after all, which makes Darcy pout, and then focus on Arthur with obvious determination, which he isn’t entirely sure what to do with, while she fusses over his hair with a comb and makes sure his vest and jacket sit right.
But overall, it means he’s feeling well-put-together and not overly nervous by the time they all make their way downstairs and get ready for Miss Powlett’s arrival and to pick her up at the station.
Not that they really have a good idea about what to do about the whole ‘magic castle’ aspect, as per usual.
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