Thomas Raith

raith_wraith @ 2009-09-03T20:23:00

2009-09-04T00:25:22Z

Six Impossible Things :: my thread

not one of her best ideas [for astrid]

2009-06-17T01:45:48Z

continuing from here

Thomas hadn't spent a lot of time of late in that fancy apartment he'd gotten for himself but it certainly hadn't crossed his mind to get rid of the place. Even if it had a faint air of not-being-lived-in, it was still his, his own. Besides, it'd always had that air, even when he was in it every night.

And it was certainly a convenient place to return to with a more-or-less willing new acquaintance. So they got to know each other better. Right. Better without their clothes on, maybe.

"Well," he says, as he shows her in, "here we are."

raith_wraith @ 2009-06-15T19:43:00

2009-06-15T23:44:05Z

We all know how it works right? Pick a pairing, or name a character you want see or whatever. And I'll write a fic where they 'snuggle' and/or do whatever you request. And I make no promises on actually snuggling though? :D What? I'm just like that...

Loki
Thomas - raith_wraith
Derek - reluctant_ruler
Marek or Seteh - vermiliondesert

And if you know one of my others and want to request, feel free, I just don't feel like listing them all. :)

Request here

A note on Thomas

2009-04-10T12:22:10Z

Big stuff happened for Thomas in Turn Coat. I'm not sure how I'll be playing him yet. Pretty sure I'll be going with canon-him, at least mostly. And...because of that? People who read him regularly (all two of you), let me know if you haven't read the book and don't want to be spoiled. Otherwise, I'll probably be posting for him without spoiler warnings.

57.3. How long do you continue to have romantic feelings about your former partner after a breakup?

2009-03-18T21:12:00Z

She was gorgeous. Fit, tanned, perfect hair and makeup and with clothes like that she probably had a personal shopper. But even more than those things, what drew him to her was simple. She wanted him.

They shared a glance across the lobby of a far-too-expensive hotel and he smiled when he saw her step falter, slightly, and her cheeks color. He stood by the front desk in a courier's uniform as he waited for the clerk to take his delivery. He should have been all but invisible to these so-called elite of Chicago. Anyone else would have been.

But Thomas could have been dressed like any bum off the street and still drawn the eye of almost every woman in here, if he'd wanted. Like that one, the one who'd hesitated. Even now she was lingering, pretending to be looking at the tchotchkes offered for exorbitant prices in the hotel gift shop. He'd lay money that before she saw him she'd been headed straight out the doors to go...oh, who knew? A day of shopping, lunch at some place where they didn't let you in if you or your spouse didn't make at least seven figures. Maybe she had a lover she was going to see while her husband busied himself with business.

Thomas smiled again, wry. Lover was an oxymoron in this case.

And really, he should be getting back to work as soon as this was signed for. Couriering was the first job he'd actually been able to hold down for any length of time. Probably because he didn't have to stay in the general vicinity of any particular females for any length of time. Even so...he was hungry. And she kept eyeing him speculatively when she thought he didn't notice.

So, as he had his package signed for, he decided.

Call it a lunch break.

He was well aware of the hotel clerk's gaze on him as he walked away from her, more than aware how the girl was wishing there wasn't a counter between the two of them. And she was only getting the edge of what he was projecting as he turned his sights on the beautiful woman who'd been watching him also since she'd entered the lobby.

She was a bit older than his usual, but she'd certainly aged well. Not without the help of a personal trainer, a strict diet, and an amazing plastic surgeon, he was sure, but for these things Thomas had always been more than a little superficial. All that really mattered was that she was attractive. If one got right down to it, all that really mattered was that she found him so. Not that she had much of a choice.

He watched her reach out a hand to the glass of the gift shop window to steady herself a bit as he smiled at her. "Hi."

She'd never, at least in her adult life, felt anything like this upon just meeting a man. She definitely hadn't felt anything remotely resembling it with her husband. The way Thomas was looking at her right now, she felt at least half her age. Young and vibrant and able to turn any man's head without the various artificial aids she'd been forced to rely on as she grew older. For some reason, she could hardly meet his grey-eyed gaze. For some reason, she felt like twittering like a schoolgirl as her cheeks grew hot and flushed. For some reason, it was starting to seem like a good idea to take all of her clothes off for him, then and there in front of God and everybody. Or maybe take all of his, that stupid courier's uniform certainly did him no favors. And if she thought he looked amazing now?

Only after a moment did she realize he'd actually spoken to her, did it occur to her to respond in kind. "H-hello." She found herself staring at his lips instead of his pale grey eyes. She was sure he could do all sorts of wicked things with those lips of his. But surely he wasn't interested in her, was he? But then...why else had he come over there?

Thomas smiled again. He had a closet exhibitionist on his hands, obviously but that...he didn't really feel too inclined toward getting hauled off to jail today even if the part before that would likely be more than a little fun. He leaned in closer to her, enjoying the thrill of lust than ran through her body as he closed what little distance remained between them. "I just couldn't help but notice you standing over her," he whispered into her ear as he put his hand on her arm. She sighed and wavered slightly on her feet, her eyes glazing over. There was way too much pent up in here for her to have a lover! Or regular relations with her husband. Perhaps he should feel sorry for her but at that moment all it really meant to him was that there was more for him to take without worrying about doing damage. And she'd feel better after, wouldn't she?

He repeated himself, "I saw you over here and I just couldn't help coming over." He paused a moment, watching her intently before adding, "do you think there's somewhere we could talk in private?"

The woman nodded, thoughts of whatever she'd been headed out to do completely out of her head. "I have a room...here." As if she wasn't even quite aware of what she was doing, she pulled the room key from her purse and continued in a breathy voice, "we could...talk...there." And her husband wouldn't return for hours at the least.

Nodding approvingly, Thomas took the key from her, caressing her hand with his fingers as he did so. "That'll be perfect." He slid his arm around her and began leading her to the elevator.

She was trembling by the time they made it to the door with contained energy. It was entirely likely that all that had restrained her from tearing his clothes off in the elevator was that Thomas himself had made no move toward her like that, he hadn't even spoken. Of course, all of her self-control melted the second the room door closed behind him.

Thomas didn't mind in the least.

The only thing he minded was that, several hours later when he finally exited the room, he'd had to take one of her husband's shirts. His had been irreparably torn and Thomas couldn't actually quite remember when or how that part had happened. Her husband was a big man and his shirt hung loosely off of Thomas' frame but it was better than going without.

He shook his head slightly as he closed the door quietly. She was sleeping now but, empty night! Talk about a wildcat. Talk about repressed desires. Talk about feeling more sated than he had since...

Well, since a while.

It only occurred to him as he was walking out of the hotel that she'd never told him her name. That was just fine, he hadn't told her his, either, and he hadn't minded if she'd called him someone else's name in the throes of passion.

After all, he'd been thinking of someone else, too.

There was no point by now of going back to his job. His boss was a humorless old man who wouldn't take kindly to Thomas' quip about taking a "long lunch". This hadn't been his first slip-up anyway so it was entirely possible he'd only be going back to be told to pack up his stuff and leave. Of course, this was the first slip-up that had been entirely his own fault.

No, it was easier to just head home, even if home was a dank old basement under a boarding house he was forced to share with his wizard brother, a dog too big for words, and a cat who was close behind.

At least Harry was out saving the world when Thomas came in. At least there wouldn't be any awkward questions about why he was back so early. Thomas tugged off his stolen shirt and tossed it in the garbage. "Lo, how far the mighty have fallen," he muttered and threw himself onto the couch. Nearby, a shaggy lump of carpet arose from the floor and came over to have his ears scritched as Mouse panted his dog-breath directly into Thomas' face. Thomas wrinkled his nose but dutifully petted the dog. Mister was apparently nowhere to be seen, doing whatever it was the tomcat did during the day.

"Looks like I'm going to need another job, Mouse," talking to a dog was better than talking to the empty air. And Mouse just rested his chin on the side of the couch and looked at him with those big, doleful doggie eyes which was a lot better than any well-meaningly helpful suggestions he'd get from someone who could actually speak.

Thomas stared up at the ceiling, "this life? I'm not cut out for it. Kinda hard to be a normal human being when-" he laughed self-deprecatingly, "-when I'm not." But he couldn't go back, either.

Even if "back" held the one thing he'd do anything to have again.

He had a long string of women just like the one from the hotel. Women he saw once for a brief, scintillating, steamy hookup. A few he even saw more than once, but never too many times. He didn't even remember most of their names, if he'd ever asked for them. They weren't important, just food.

But there was Justine.

Thomas closed his eyes and scowled at himself. That part of his life was over too, it seemed. Justine was a virtual prisoner and even if she wasn't?

Well, he couldn't be with her, anyway.

The worst part about love, he decided, wasn't the burning of his skin.

character: Thomas Raith
fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
wordcount: 1650
partner: OC and Justine (based off canon history)
time: some point between Blood Rites and Proven Guilty

conflict happens [winter knight!thomas]

2009-03-17T23:02:13Z

He was doing something he'd been sure for far too long would remain always impossible for him. He was lying in bed with his arms around Justine, skin to skin, with no unpleasant side-effects. There was a certain amount of effort that lay with suppressing Justine's protection so that this was possible, but he'd grown capable enough to handle it over the past few months to the point where it had become nearly automatic. It even worked while he slept.

She was sleeping, her breathing steady and a smile on her lips. Even now, after all this time, Thomas was still amazed to have her again. To truly be with her. So of course he could be forgiven his dalliance with her. For a moment, he scowled slightly at the intruding thought. Thomas wasn't yet ready to be Thomas Raith, Winter Knight, again. Let him remain simply Thomas Raith for another minute or three. Better yet, merely Thomas. Thomas with Justine, the woman he loved.

Loved enough he'd do all sorts of terrible things to keep her safe.

The thought was in his head now, though, reminding him he had other duties to attend to as much as he'd prefer to remain here. Thomas sighed and brushed a gentle kiss over Justine's forehead. That gesture was as good as speaking three words he was, even now, hesitant to say. Only then did he slowly extricate himself from the bed, ensuring she'd remain asleep as he did so. With luck, he'd return before she woke.

He wasn't superstitious, precisely, but that didn't stop him from knocking the bed's headboard anyway, just in case.

Quickly, Thomas dressed and left the apartment after one glance back to the woman still sleeping peacefully on his bed.

He had a job to do.

***

He should have knocked more wood.

The task had been simple enough. Retrieve a certain object from a certain group of mortals who held it in a rather well-protected vault. Well protected in both the physical and magical senses. Plan A had involved equal combinations of charm and guile. If it had worked, he would have been invited into the vault and from there if something had made its way into one of his pockets...well, that was purely accidental, of course.

Unfortunately, Plan A hadn't worked. They saw him coming. Recognized him for what he was. Both vampire and Winter Knight. And Thomas had rarely been very good at charming male fanatics pointing semi-automatic weapons in his face.

The idea here had been to avoid open conflict and so Thomas had found himself moving on to Plan B. Plan B was a little more convoluted but likely should have been his first move. At least it wouldn't have tipped hem off immediately to who was interested in their vault. He'd obviously been around Harry too long if he'd tried the more direct approach first.

It hadn't been difficult to entice, through various roundabout means, a talented mortal thief with a penchant for magical items into trying to steal the artifact for herself. In fact, he'd already laid the threads and groundwork for that one before he'd let himself be a little distracted by Justine. Easy enough to set in motion when Plan A failed horribly. Easy enough to make it appear to be coincident to his own interest in the place.

Too bad there wasn't enough left of the thief to fill a cigar box when they were finished with her. At least he could rest easy knowing she couldn't have told them who sent her on this job since she had managed to convince herself it was all her own idea. He'd worry about uneasy rest over causing her death later.

At this point, he went back to the drawing board. The group wasn't supposed to have this sort of power, despite the artifact they held. Relative pushovers, really, Thomas should have been able to handle them even without the whole Winter Knight gig.

Obviously he'd been wrong. They had a patron.

A rather powerful patron, it turned out, and one who came to have a few words with him about kindly leaving his vault alone lest Thomas' queen suddenly find herself looking for a new Knight.

Thomas never did take to threats well.

It would be polite to say they had a disagreement. That got rather loud and messy.

Thomas was still cleaning dragon's blood out from under his fingernails when he arrived back at the vault and announced his ownership of it by dint of trial by combat. No one argued with him this time and no one was stupid enough to try semiautomatic weapons again.

That, at least, was the good news. He got what he came for. Even if the bad news was it had taken three days longer than he'd anticipated.

Simple little job, his perfect ass.

"And now," he announced to an empty hall, "her Ladyship can't even seem to grace her Knight with her presence." Maeve being nowhere to be found or at least no one in Faerie seemed to know where she was at the moment. Well, no one he cared to ask, anyway. Thomas certainly wasn't going to go before Mab if he didn't have to to find out where her daughter was.

"The Lady can't do such a thing if she's gone to her Knight's home now, can she?" asked someone behind him. Not such an empty hall, then.

Thomas turned to see Jenny Greenteeth smiling prettily at him, but no less dangerous for all she was pretty. "Oh, did she?"

"Indeed she did," Jenny affirmed.

He looked at her appraisingly, "and left you here as the messenger for me, mm?"

Jenny's eyes widened perhaps a bit too theatrically, "and couldn't I have stayed of my own will to help you?"

For a long moment, Thomas looked at her before smiling, baring white teeth, "No, you couldn't." He bowed slightly, "but it seems I have other places to be." And before the Sidhe could make any other comment, he took his leave.

Home, then.

[continued here]

56.1 merged with 56.2 Learn and a memorable crush

2009-03-12T01:34:39Z

They say you never forget your first time. They're certainly right about that. I wish I could forget her, sometimes. But that would just be too easy. And I shouldn't forget. I guess if I ever do, that just makes me even more like them.

She wasn't beautiful. Well, she was to a boy in the throes of his first crush but...she was cute. Blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a body she was still growing into. That was okay, I was still growing into mine too. Remembering her now, she looks so young. I can't even imagine what she might have looked like as a full grown woman. She probably would have been beautiful.

I think I probably wouldn't have given her a second look, though, if she hadn't blushed and looked away when our gazes first met. I thought it was cute. Intriguing. Something about that moment made me hunger for something I'd never really thought about before. I wanted to catch her eye again, to impress her, to get close to her. It being my first day of high school got a lot less important.

Running in to her again wasn't that difficult. We had several classes together. Somehow, there was always a seat open for me at her and her friends' lunch table. We grew close. The subject of gossip, I'm sure, with how close we were and how quickly it happened.

She never came to my house. For some reason...I never invited her. Some reason. Several reasons. Maybe then I didn't know what we were but something told me I didn't want her to be there. I didn't even like being there.

Besides, it was easier with her family. They liked me and if I came over to study, there was an implicit dinner invitation in there, too. I kissed her for the first time on her front porch. Goodnight, I said, and we both were blushing.

Of course, even as much as her parents liked me, they never left us alone together for long. I guess they understood about hormones. I guess they kept their daughter alive a little longer than otherwise. Not that they realized that, of course.

But we were teenagers and reckless and immortal. And we both really wanted to do more than just kissing, just a little touching here and there. Parties at friends' houses were wonderful for that. Supposedly they were chaperoned but there was always that one kid whose parents disappeared to leave the kids with plenty of breathing room. And with all the noise and talking and surreptitious drinking no one noticed if the two of us stole off for a little private time.

When you're sneaking around, fooling around, when you've never seen a girl naked in the flesh before that first time? It's amazing. I felt like a god. Playboy hadn't remotely prepared me for this, but somehow I managed. Somehow, I knew just what to do to get her to gasp and moan and shudder. I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything.

I ate her up.

I didn't even realize, at first, when something changed. But then...she stopped reacting. No more breathy little gasps and moans and her arms slipped from their embrace around me. Confused, I slowed...stopped. I'm glad there wasn't a mirror there so I can't-

That's not true, I can imagine. I don't want to imagine what I looked like.

She wasn't breathing and her eyes stared up at me. I waited several long moments, sure this was some sick joke. She'd blink and laugh at me and tell me the look on my face was priceless. Except she wasn't the sort of girl to make those kinds of jokes.

Finally, I ran. Barely managed to tug on my clothes and push my way out of that room, that house. I ran on bare feet, not caring where I went so long as it was away. I don't even remember how I got home.

He was waiting for me as I tried to creep back to my room. He never waited up for me, but he was there all the same. "My son," he said, and I couldn't remember ever hearing him sound so warm or refer to me with those words, "we have a lot to discuss."

character: Thomas Raith
fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
wordcount: 733
partner: OC (based off canon history)

#49. What's Missing?

2009-01-24T03:51:59Z

It's funny how easy it is to get in a rut. Even when you're sort of technically a supernatural creature of the night.

Or whatever.

Or maybe especially because, to hear Harry talk about the difference between humans and the creatures who only sometimes looked like them.

Thomas has a routine now. Get up, do all the morning ablutions, make sure his hair is just so, pick out his ensemble to wear for the day, drive on down into work. And maybe there, in the salon, he plays a role, but it's just a job. The same job he goes to every single day. Smile and gossip and do the ladies' hair and steal just enough of their souls to keep on going. Madness isn't something he wants to experience firsthand. Neither is starvation.

Sure, every now and again something happens that throws things out of whack. Usually it's something his brother is right in the middle of. Crazy necromancers, crazy faerie queens, crazy vampires, crazy fallen angels. A whole lotta crazy, actually, now that he thinks about it. And we're back to that madness thing again.

But even with all of the excitement, Thomas' day to day life is...pretty normal. Kind of boring. Even if it is a double life.

That, for a Raith, is par for the course. He's got siblings who play at seven different lives before breakfast.

Okay, maybe only three.

The point is, he tells himself, he doesn't have it bad. Nice apartment in a nice neighborhood, nice car -- when Harry isn't ruining it -- and a nice job with nice people. He's supporting himself which he couldn't have said for most of his adult life. It's a good life. And sometimes he even gets to help people.

But when he comes home more nights than not, tosses something frozen in the microwave to eat, and finds himself staring at a single white knit scarf he's left hanging on his coat rack, he knows. Something's missing. Someone.

He'll stare until the microwave's timer goes off before he shakes himself out of it and goes over to retrieve his dinner a la Healthy Choice. And so he sits down and eats. Merely to keep going, he doesn't even taste the food. He should, he mutters to the empty room, put the scarf away. He's nearly brushed into it more times than he can remember. It's warmed up outside, anyway, he can't wear it anymore.

But.

Every so often, as he passes by, he thinks he can smell her.

Maybe he'll put it away later.

character: Thomas Raith
fandom: The Dresden Files (books)
wordcount: 416
partner: Justine (canon)
comments here

[sort of in the future]

2009-01-09T00:51:15Z

The woman below him let out a breathy little moan. "Oh yes, that feels wonderful."

Thomas smiled, his fingers moving rhythmically, assuredly, "like that?"

She sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing into his hands' embrace, "you really know how to treat a girl, Thomas." She pronounced his name oddly, the accent not where you'd expect, making him sound a little European, maybe French.

Chuckling, Thomas continued massaging his client's scalp as he worked the shampoo through her hair, "but of course, my dear. Making others feel, how did you say? Wonderful? That is my life's work."

Opening her eyes again, she peered up at him through a halo of soap suds and warm water, "you sure you don't want to come back over to this side, sweetie?" She licked her lips in an unconscious gesture, "there are a lot of girls out there who'd be thrilled."

Gently, Thomas smiled down at her in a tolerant sort of fashion, as if he heard comments like that every day as he took his hands off her to turn the water on for rinsing. He ignored the almost involuntary little whimper she made at the loss of his touch. Maria Blakeney had been one of his long-time clients. Perhaps she'd been one for too long. Once he'd gotten the water to its proper temperature, he began rinsing, "oh non, Maria," he even managed to sound apologetic, "I am afraid that while I love to help make beautiful women it is not they who, what is the term? 'Do it' for me." Suddenly, she sat up, long, wet hair streaming behind her, soaking the back of her shirt, the floor, not that she seemed aware of either. Thomas frowned, "honey, you are getting water everywhere, what is the matter?"

Maria shook her head, sending water droplets flying all around her, one of her hands closing around his wrist for balance as she leaned forward precariously on the chair, using its footrest to perch on so they were nose to nose. Or near enough. "I don't believe you," she said, her voice gone velvety in a way she probably imagined made her sound like some sort of femme fatale temptress. "No gay man can touch a woman the way you were touching me just now."

Oh. thought Thomas. Shit. He hadn't been paying enough attention. Drew her in too far and now here she was trying to seduce him. He opened his mouth to protest, to try to defuse the situation but she used her free hand to place a quelling finger on his lips. Though that turned into more of a caress than a shut up gesture. She continued as if he hadn't tried to speak, "just let me show you what I mean..." and then she replaced her finger with her lips.

Probably he ought to have pushed her away, set her right back down in that chair properly, called in one of the girls to finish up her hair. Probably he ought not have wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss with the kind of near-savage heat she'd likely only read about in Harlequin novels.

When he finally let her go, she was panting slightly, her face flushed, and likely more than just her shirt was damp. She was begging him for it, right here, he could tell. She wouldn't even protest that a dozen people were just on the other side of that curtain, she wouldn't make a sound beyond soft little noises meant for his ears alone. All he had to do was pull her close again and...

No. Thomas shook his head firmly and turned away from her. "You should go, Maria."

"But-"

"Go. Now." His voice held a tone of command she couldn't, quite, resist. Quietly, she left the room.

Thomas didn't move from where he stood until he heard her leave the salon, his knuckles white as he clenched them against his sides, his breath coming even and measured as he concentrated on that and not following Maria Blakeney back to her home and doing all sorts of unmentionable things to her.

It had been too long. Of course the salon kept him full but...well, it was the difference in taking tiny bites of food food several times a day to survive when what you really want is the full course banquet. It hardly helped that his favorite food was now practically waved under his nose but he couldn't even touch it. Her. Couldn't touch her. Justine. He loved her. He probably loved her more than was healthy or sane but he also wanted in ways that had nothing at all to do with love. It was supremely maddening, enough that sometimes he almost thought it best to send her away again. Surely she'd be better off with someone other than him. Someone not a monster. Surely he'd be better off not having the mere temptation of her scent following him around everywhere. His doe, his, and he couldn't even-

That drew Thomas up short, he recognized where that train of thought was headed and cut it off ruthlessly. He'd known what he was getting into when he'd brought her home. He could deal with this. He had to.

Only once Thomas was sure he had himself under his own control once again did he suddenly notice just how quiet the front area of the salon had gotten. He turned to face the curtained doorway that led to the other room and noticed the shadow of someone on the floor on the other side. "Thomas?" came a hesitant, feminine voice. She too used the more European pronunciation. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Yes, he had himself under control but he could hardly feign his usual constant cheer right at this moment so he didn't bother trying for anything past neutral as he passed through the curtain. "Mrs. Blakeney and I had a-...misunderstanding. I am sorry for the disruption." Everyone stared, he offered no explanation, just forced a little smile and went to busy himself looking at his appointments book.

Slowly, normal conversation resumed around the salon, though Thomas could guess at what some of the whispers were. They were just waiting for him to leave the room so the gossip could fully burst forth.

That expression of raw need and hunger he'd seen in Maria's eyes flashed into his mind again. He could understand the feeling. The ladies might have appeared to have turned their attention back to chatting with one another but Thomas could feel more than a few giving him a sort of renewed attention he'd hoped they had let go upon learning of his tragic unavailability to those of the female persuasion.

Just how much was he projecting?

No way was he going to get any actual work done today. And one of the perks of being the owner was you could blow off the job and not get fired. "Jessica," he said.

The salon's receptionist looked up, her cheeks coloring a little, "yes?"

Thomas favored her with one of his blinding smiles, "cancel the rest of my appointments today, yes?"

She stared back at him, the pink tinge in her cheeks spreading, "uh...okay? What do I tell them?"

"Tell them...tell them I am ill and reschedule them for later in the week." He beamed at her, "I will see you ladies all tomorrow!" And before anyone else could protest, not that they could have under the weight of that brilliant smile, Thomas whisked himself out the door.

He was definitely sick alright. But, he'd decided, he really did need to see Maria again. Smooth things over. Even if it took all night.

ooc: This is sort of the general Thomas I play, but presumably some time in the nearish future after he's gotten Justine out of Raith clutches and living with him. More explanation as needed. :)

[warden!Thomas]

2009-01-09T00:47:52Z

So here I am, still in Chicago. Of course, so's Dresden. Which is kind of the point, I guess. Some part of me's wishing he was still one step ahead and I'd never come face to face with him. That would, at least, make my life a little less complicated.

There are, after all, some things the Wardens don't want to hear. Like how one of their own was captured by a bad guy for a while there and injected and possibly made addicted to narcotic vampire spit. Things like that. Makes them not trust a guy. Which...you really don't want the Wardens questioning your loyalty.

And that's without even the oh yes, by the way, he says he's my brother bombshell.

Or the far too uncomfortably close proximity of the old family that I prudently don't mention around them anyway. Yeah, my father is the White King? Not a good conversation starter. And something I'd rather pretend wasn't the case anyway.

So here I am, desperately wishing I could take a vacation in Tahiti. It sounds nice. Better than all this cold, anyway. And somehow I ended up getting assigned here. Well, if you're going to keep an eye on Dresden, you might as well keep an eye on the whole city too!

Watch me jump for joy.

I'm so screwed.

me: warden!thomas could be interesting too but he's not too talkative

Kalina: I think he's still in shock

brother . Renegade. vampires. young ... well, companions. All meshed up into one.

me: Stuff, yeah. And he is like...I'm not sure he's reported any of this to the Council

Or what he's doing about that, actually

Kalina: *nods * maybe nudging him to tell him what he's sorted out to reporting?

me: Yeah. I mean, if he goes silent, the Wardens are going to wonder what happened to him and come check it out and he doesn't relaly want /that/. If for no other reason than they might question his loyalty now that he's been all imprisoned by Dresden and affected by narcotic vampire spit.

Kalina: yup. he'll have to... mix up some of the truth with some lies and produce... something.

me: Yeah, he can't say he defeated Dresden because...he didn't

but maybe he'll come up with some story about how he did finally track him down and sort of run him to ground and he's going to keep an eye on things but doesn't need back up

Kalina: lol. He's sticking around to finish the case?

me: yeah

Besides, I get the impression the wardens down't really necessarily all come down unless there's some major stuff going down

I mean, even before the war with the Red court, I got the impression they were kinda stretched

Kalina: *nods * they're... left to their own and their direct superiors' devices a lot

me: And while Dresden is a threat, they obviously don't consider him a Kemmler level threat or they would've come down on him like a ton of bricks already.

Probably he's kept a pretty low profile and doesn't, I imagine, go all out with the "hey i'm evil!" stuff

Kalina: what, he's read the evil overlord handbook?

me: apparently!

me: I'm now wondering how much the white council knows in general of Thomas' past

connection to the White Court, etc

hell, I'm wondering if Daddy-dearest wouldn't mind having a little family reunion. He's not a vampire, but he is one of their enemies now. Wizard. Warden.

annnnnnnnd I just imagined Daddy Raith sending Lara to make sure Thomas was either dead or good and well under the Raith family control.

Kalina: oooh

man.

that's ugly

So, what do you guys think? (Lara!Mun? Want to play along?)

Finally Finished Log! :) [Something Wicked This Way Comes!Verse]

2008-10-28T22:48:48Z

[he really needs some Winter Knight!icons. Hah.]

In which Thomas and Maeve have a chat. Among other things. And Maggie finally discovers that her eldest has given himself in service to the Winter Court.

Finally

Lloyd of the family Slate was already fully gone. The unclear, undefined state of things was done, and things were right again. Winter Court was complete, and issues that had been going a little less than perfectly would get better. Mother, Queen, Lady. Knight. Balance restored.

And what a Knight. Coming into the power bringing decades of skills and knowledge and power of his own to the position. And definitely a sight to see. He could go a very, very long way, Thomas Raith, and could do well by Winter. Would do well.

But now that the wait was finally over... she was a little impatient. To get to know their newest Courtier.

So when he came home that day, he found her lounging gracefully on his living room couch. No way possible could he determine what she'd busied herself with before he showed, since her eyes were on him and attentive, fully, from the moment that he unlocked the door. Tight jeans, pale silvery blue. Tight tee-shirt, ripped off a bit to expose belly-button and a bit of her stomach. Casual but quite revealing.

"Your mother was out. I let myself in." Possibly the same way as Dresden's cleaning service, for example...
--

Thomas paused in the doorway of his apartment, taking in the scene before him. It certainly wasn't one he'd expected to come home to. But not -- entirely -- unwelcome. Only after that moment did he enter the room fully, closing the door behind him. "To what do I owe the unexpected honor?" he asked as he moved toward the adjoining kitchen for a beer. Thomas was fairly certain he was going to need one.

Most people would likely be upset by this invasion. And perhaps Thomas was, to a degree, even if it didn't show in the least. But he'd never truly had something one could term privacy until he'd gotten this apartment so it was hardly something he expected to keep. And he was also well aware of his status in regards to the Winter Lady. She could, of course, come and go as she pleased and he was little entitled to say anything against it.

Understanding these things made it quite easy for him to seem perfectly at ease with her presence in his home.

Seem being the operative word.

--

The canted eyes followed him, almost completely without blinking. Such a pretty plaything. Not that the thought registered on the surface, of course. Nor did she think he'd be surprised at the appreciation. All things considered.

She waited for him to return, then flowed into a more alert sitting position. Attentive.

"I just dropped by to check how you are managing. If you have questions." Her voice was... nice. Oh yes, she could be nice when she wanted to be. Attractive, even. No mortal woman, and all that.

--

Thomas smiled, settling into a chair across from her. "I would be a poor servant indeed if I had no questions." If he didn't have that intellectual spark to search out answers. He took a swallow from his bottle as he watched her. Not wary but interested, careful, possibly curious.

"Your consideration is most appreciated," he let his gaze wander over her form, "indeed."

--

"I should hope so." The voice was close to a purr. About appreciation. She appeared as she did to be appreciated, after all. By mortals and not alike.

And, ah... questions. "I am here to answer what I can. Have you encountered difficulties of any kind?" Her lips turned up into a smile, easy, almost soft-looking. "Are you enjoying what you have now?"

--
Shaking his head, Thomas shrugged, "things have, actually, been unusually quiet for me." He hadn't been pushing them, so much. And he'd successfully been avoiding both his brother and his mother, at least in terms of them wondering about the change in him. Then again, it wasn't as if Maggie was in the apartment as much as she'd used to be. And Harry was likely working. Or something with Elaine. So it hadn't been terribly difficult.

Something about that bothered him. Like it should have been difficult.

"Have you ever considered a handbook?" For the job.

--
Ah, but difficult and easy shifted with what you could, really, do. And right now, he could do a lot - a lot that he put his mind to. "Do you not like them quiet? You have the power to make things happen, when you need it now." Her lips were definitely curled up now. "And I do think more may start happening when the seasons roll." In only a few days. The time when they were equal, Summer and Winter. And then... all theirs. And then he would see too. Feel the turn of time in his heart. Feel the surge of energy as yes, they became stronger than their counterparts. Aaah. Power. If he had some now, he'd have yet more. She suspected he would like that, since he didn't seem unhappy with the current influx.

"Of course not. Written words may fall into the wrong hands. A rather demonstrable point." Handbook indeed.

--

He hadn't been serious. But he simply raised his bottle in recognition of her point, "there is that."

As far as quietude went, "some quiet I like. A chance to relax. But too much of it and I start wondering when the other shoe's going to drop."

Which really means: he starts getting paranoid...er.

And perhaps he'd just expected there to be more happening since he accepted the mantle of Winter Knight. The fact that it hadn't was...unsettling.

"So what can I do? Magically speaking." He'd stuck to mostly-familiar territory.

--
Maeve smiled with something that could be an approximation to sweetness. "It will greatly depend on what you can learn and imagine, Thomas. The extent of power may not equal one of a Sidhe Queen, but how much it can do is determined by who is wielding it. Different Knights have reached different degrees of proficiency, and different aspects of it sometimes. It may have some similarities in use with that of a wizard, but how closely, I cannot say." Meaning, she hadn't bothered to look into it, as such.

Some of the Knights had gone by so quickly. Mortal. Like butterflies.

Her smile turned a little more ... focused. "Waiting for the 'other shoe to drop'. That is a wise thing to do - it keeps you on your toes. Which," her eyes slid over his body, sitting as he was, from toes all the way up to his face, indicating that he was tall already, in more senses than one, "will only make your reach better."

--

It depends. He should have figured on an answer like that. "So you mean I've just got to work it out on my own?" That's the way lots of things seemed to work for him lately.

Obligingly, Thomas stretched languidly, managing to appear he'd simply chosen that moment on a whim but quite aptly demonstrating his "reach".

--
Her own body's position went a little more... feline as he moved. Oh yes, she would definitely enjoy working with this one. Probably more difficult to control to begin with, without the addiction, but she could definitely come up with other ways.

"It is a power that comes from us and is also in a way limited by us, but it isn't something we can give an inside understanding of. I could tell you what others have been able to do before you, and what I've suspected they could. I didn't ask how, at the time." Hey, nobody has ever accused Maeve in being too attentive, focused, patient, and systematic...

--

He flashed her a smile, "you could tell me, but will you?"

There was, after all, a difference between the two of which he was quite aware.

And she might be finding Thomas more difficult to control period. He went his own way, though as long as their goals were more or less in line, he was willing to play along to get what he ~~needed~~ wanted from them.

--
"Possibly." She was here, after all. Tilting her head sideways, she asked, "since I cannot be fully sure what you would consider... limitation? Comparatively stronger exhibition of power." That was truth, the Sidhe had, at best, guesses as how mortals' - or other beings' - minds worked. "What you can do can be both major and subtle, depending on how you work it. It is not as great as a Sidhe Queen's power, and is somewhat different than what the Fae wield." Or else it wouldn't be possible to bestow it on somebody. "It is not something that grows with you, as that of magical beings born may, but it is great enough, and time may give you access to significantly more aspects of it."

Maeve smiled again, a little. "What would you consider a boundary to it? What would you want to know if you can do?"

--

"I would simply hate to find myself in a situation where I might...find myself lacking." So to speak. "I'd much rather prefer to avoid those situations in the first place but I can hardly do so if I don't know what would constitute one."

He wasn't a fan of trial and error. Forwarned and forearmed and all that.

--

"I wouldn't recommend going up against a Sidhe queen. A divinity. And possibly some of the demons, unconstrained - definitely the ones from the furthest reaches - might be too much. Unless you know precisely what you are doing, I suppose." It was, after all, well known and demonstrable in Thomas's family fact that even a smaller amount of force, correctly applied, could suffice to overpower greater strength. Occasionally.

"Since he's had some advance start, I wouldn't recommend trying to engage into a pitched battle with the Summer Knight either. For now." She shook her head, the colored locks cascading along her shoulders. "No matter how much I, or the Queen, or even the Mother teach you, though. For a long while your limit will be more in how deep you can tap into it rather than reaching its acual limit."

It wasn't a laughing matter all, the mantle of a Sidhe Court Knight.

--
He had no intentions of going up against any of the Queens, gods, or demons. Not his idea of a good time. Not directly anyway.

"So I merely have to practice." And try not to be too obvious about it. He leaned toward her, a flash of silver in his grey eyes, "and how would you suggest I go about that, my Lady?"

Not one of his better ideas, but he was rather curious how far it would go. If it went at all.

--
"Well, yes, practice." Her smile widened, the canted eyes narrowing slightly with amusement. Or maybe a flicker of curiosity too, at that silver. Her voice was almost with a hint of a purr too, when she went on, "and as with many things, practice might be based on what you will want to be doing. Liiiike... find your way home." No, not just to the Nevernever. To the specific places there that he now had access to. The Courts of Winter.

And no, there wasn't any particular stress on the word 'home'. Merely the clear statement that this - his flat, the place he'd made for himself - was no longer where his duties bound him to.
Or maybe an invitation.

Or maybe even an offer to show him. Possibly. This wasn't that different. She didn't think.

--

Mentally, he balked at her usage of the word 'home'. There was only one home for him and it was neither this flat nor the Winter Courts nor any property owned by House Raith. It wasn't even a fixed location. Not when it was wherever someone else was.

But he also knew little would come of arguing. That she perhaps expected him to. So he didn't. "That is something I would like to learn. The way there and back." And a subtle emphasis on and back. Thomas didn't care to remain in the lands of the Winter Sidhe forever.

Of course, he couldn't anyway, not and fulfill his duties to the Queens. Not when there was a reason that the Knight be mortal. Or something close enough as to make no difference to Mab.

--
Of course, being trapped into the lands that he served now was not in the immediate plans at all. What with how long the previous Knight had been... bound. But then again, if it seemed - expedient, the flow of time could be altered. Or, in short, time could be an irrelevant factor.

"Of course, whenever you wish. Anything else that you would similarly want to know?" Maeve didn't exactly look as though she'd moved, and yet her body was more alert - leaning forward, closer to him with interest, rather than merely - comfortably resting. Oh of course she still looked comfortable. She just about always did.

--

Thomas smiled, "the list is quite long. I would hate to detain you..."

Not that she seemed at all inclined to go anywhere. Not that he seemed to mind.

--
"Oh, I don't know. If you mention, say, the top three? It might be possible to, ah... knock off more than one bird with the same shot." So to speak. And she was also curious about what he wanted to learn first. What he wanted to do the soonest.

She wanted to get to know him better. However mundane that sounded...

--
He didn't care to mention the work he'd been doing to touch Justine. Partly because that ought to be obvious if she knew what Mab had dangled in front of him for him to accept being the Winter Knight and partly because he didn't care to directly remind her of the button most likely to work on him if pressed. Other things he wants to know...

"Harry, for example, I've seen direct fire or kinetic energy or bursts of wind at people, usually through his staff. I imagine I might be able to do similar things?" Probably not the fire though blue flames might be cool. So that's one. Something rather important if he's put into a direct confrontation with someone. Something else he wants to know, "and what is my standing where others of your Court is concerned? Might I command them in some way or is that perhaps only reserved for when I am actually acting on behalf of one of the Queens?"

And lastly..."what would you have me to know?"

--
Of course she knew what the ... incitement for him had been. And - she wasn't currently asking for perfect openness or honesty either. She was Sidhe, after all. Perfect honesty was virtually impossible. Not to mention, highly not commendable.
And, not in the last place, not anything she would expect of a Raith.

"Yes, you can control energy in a way very similar to the way a wizard can. Some elements will be easier to work with, others more difficult. You may find it easier to have an object to focus the power through as well, at the beginning. You might... end up wielding more than most such artifacts can take at any one time, eventually. But we can come up with something until then. Make it, that is." Why yes, that could take cooperation with others of the Court.

She was looking at him with her head canted to one side. "There is only one Knight." That was, to her mind, an answer enough about standing. In a world where most power structures worked in threes, the Knight was unique. Focusing all the power - magical and, ah, 'political' - of a group into a single entity. "You are under the command of the Court. In some things you will be able to command; in others, you may be commanded." Though that was rare, and usually explicitly stated. "It would not be a good idea to abuse the command over others too much unless you do have at least tacit approval from a Queen." Along the lines of broken-promise-magical-consequences bad idea. But he was under the same protection too, on the other hand.

And as for the last part... she shifted so that her body's shape outlined more definitely against her clothes, and then rose gracefully, crossing the distance between them. In easy reach. In fact, she reached and ran her fingers lightly, barely touching over his cheekbone. "I think there may be something the learning of which could turn out to be mutually beneficial. How your power... works on us." If at all. Or in full. And what would the effects to both sides be.
He must be curious about that too. If not exactly enthusiastic about experimenting.

--

That was all quite a lot of good information. Almost more than he'd expected out of her. But then, from what little he'd seen so far, Maeve did seem rather more forthcoming than Mab. Among other things. He did like the idea of a power focus. Probably because of the 'makes him feel all manly' effect tools usually had on those of the masculine persuasion. Even if having to carry around a focus would make him more noticeable, make him stand out. Of course, he could always make sure whatever he had was...discreet. They would certainly appreciate that, he was certain.

For the second part, he merely nodded. It made sense, but it was something he'd felt compelled to...double check on his assumption. Politics among the Sidhe he knew were delicate and Thomas was more than certain the Queens would not appreciate a misstep on his part that could have been easily avoided. For that matter, he himself wouldn't care to do it as a matter of personal pride.

And then the last. He doesn't move when she approaches him, nor when she touches him, but his eyes flash silver again and his skin becomes noticeably cooler under her fingers. His smile is a lazy, self-assured one as he watches her. "I had wondered what would happen."

And now he had tacit permission so he feels no qualms about giving a bit to the Hunger, in wrapping her in his aura if not his arms.

Yet.

--
'Forthcoming' may have been a flattering way to put it, of course. 'Rash' might sometimes cover it, or 'careless'. But not in this case. Thomas was bound, and in a position that needed being filled up well and soon. This information was good for him. And oh with what he would do? He would probably repay all that was vested in him. Not her personally, necessarily. But nothing would be weighed out or forgotten.
And the foci... could be of his choosing. And probably would be, eventually.

And oh they did understand about personal reasons for doing things well. Personal pride. He'd had years, decades of experience in a delicate court. He would navigate safely enough. Until he found out what he wanted, and then he would pull strings and manipulate and of necessity let himself be manipulate in turn, just as would be proper for not only what - because a Knight did not need to, necessarily - but who he was too.

Necessity. Need. The pull washed over her, palpable, the lines of power almost visibly wrapping around her, for a moment clearly distinguishable for her before she half-closed her eyes and let herself relax into them. Perhaps if she put her mind - or power, or both - against those 'visible' threads, she could have stretched them, bent them, torn them. Possibly. But right now she didn't want to do it. Her lips parted and her breathing sped up. Not just with the lust of it. With the strength of it, the completeness of it. Oh yes, it was power all right, this Hunger. It worked through and through, brutally and subtly and enticingly all at the same time. Briefly, her head rolled back, strands of colored hair sliding along the skin of her cheek, then she straightened, and then fluidly leaned forward, palm against his cheek to meet his lips.

Not because of anything like 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'. Because it was the logical continuation. The pull of the power was quite sufficient to tip her usually strong appetites into full wakefulness. And barely out of full control. Meaning, she didn't straddle him, making their clothes start disappearing right then. But not enough to not lean for a kiss. And what a kiss...!

--
He knew, somehow, that she was choosing to let him do this to her. And there was something in that that took the edge off, made it easier to control his Hunger. She was not prey, for all she was pretending it for the moment. It served as a reminder he would remember.

But for all of that, he was willing enough to continue the charade, slipping his arms around her and kissing her in return. Deepening the sensations with his power, drawing out her lust with the same subtle care one would use with threads of blown glass. Almost unnoticeable unless one realized what he was doing because he was quite adept at making one simply not care about anything besides, for instance, the feel of his skin on theirs.

Of course it might be said he himself was quickly coming to not care about much beyond the web he was weaving around her.

--
It may have had to do with the fact that she was, after all, more Fae than woman that made her just aware of the power web. The stronger, closer it became, the brighter it could be seen if Maeve chose to look.

But she didn't. She was feeling instead.

The Sidhe were people of beauty not for nothing. Beautiful vision. Beautiful voices and music. If you got lured to eat or drink of their fare, that would be stunningly beautiful too, in its way. Beautiful to the touch.
They were so because they could perceive it more sharply so than mortals would. So the feel of his skin - cold, so luxuriously cold under her palm, against her lips, around her body - was quite the sensation to build upon.

Yes, she was aware he was still a predator whose lure was affecting her, and quite as it was supposed to. Yes, she was aware that perhaps she was risking becoming prey. And yes, perhaps that was making the rush of this even better. Because the mix between lust and draw, between want and power coursing through her? Felt genuinely - good.

She drew back for a moment. Presumably to take a breath, but maybe to just see him as he was now, so she would know. And maybe just because sight was also an important sensation. And maybe she did want that breath. Or maybe she didn't.

"I like that." So maybe there was to her tone a childish 'let's do it again!' cast. But the next word, the next word was spoken soberly, easily. A permission for the experiment - if that's what this was, to go on. Not that she wanted to pull away, nor that she cared too much. But somehow it seemed right to give permission. She was a queen, was she not?
She was in his arms, kissing him... was she not?

"Yes."

And then she was leaning and kissing him again.

--

Her reaction genuinely pleased Thomas, if only because it was a change. Something he hadn't really experienced before. And when she looks at him, his eyes are more silver than grey, even if that distinction is a subtle one. She was pleased and pleasing and willing and he hadn't truly sated himself in far too long.
And here she was, kissing him, in his arms. Ready for the taking.

So he took.

It was like nothing he'd ever tasted before. Like a quick-moving, freezing moutain stream. Lightning in his veins. Like when he accepted the mantle of Winter Knight.

There was usually such heat when he seduced a woman. This was different.

But good. Far too good.

--

Maggie felt the pull of Thomas's power almost before she set foot in the room. It was stronger than it had ever been, or at least stronger than she had ever felt. Enough to make her worry and risk interrupting him with someoe. Enough that, if he hadn't been with Maeve, she might have shouted at him, demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing.

But this was Maggie, and she recognized the Winter Lady the moment she stepped into the room.

"Thomas." Mild. Rather like clearing her throat.

What the hell do you think you're doing?
--

The voice penetrated, soft and mild as it was. Maeve's form stilled in Thomas's arms, just breathing heavily for a moment, and the canted eyes opened as her lips lingered for a moment just brushing his. The pull was weaker now, it felt, so she didn't have that much trouble pulling back from how close they'd been pressed together in the middle of rumpling clothes and revealed skin. Yes. The touching of skin on skin had been important until instants ago. Now - absolutely regardless of the rumpled look, she was the Lady of Winter, and nothing in her motions, in the position of her body, or in her eyes would suggest that she was embarrassed. Because she wasn't.

"Margaret LeFay. Good evening to you." She was now standing besides the chair which Thomas had taken. Calm. Relaxed. It was also her ground, in a way.

--

Thomas looked up at Maggie, the chill in the air surrounding him and the paleness of his skin and eyes unmistakeable to anyone familiar with the White Court. There's a breath or two before he seems to come back to himself, as much as his Hunger may be angry at the interruption.

Many a son would be mortified to be caught thusly by his mother. Especially when his shirt is hanging half off his body and the top button of his pants appears undone. But Thomas had little shame -- if any -- where his body was concerned or just about anything he did with it. So he was quite able to meet her gaze as he stood up beside Maeve. Though he might not if he'd noticed how starkly the white outline of a snowflake stood even on the pale skin of his chest.

"Mother."

This was going to get awkward.

--

Maggie did indeed notice their state of undress. That wasn't what bothered her. She knew what her son was, what his father had been. Possibly more than the woman-shaped creature who had until so recently had her tongue down his mouth, she knew what he was. Possibly less. She had been gone for many years.

That wasn't what concerned her though. Not nearly as much as the expression on Maeve's face, too confident for Maggie's comfort though she, too, would take care not to let that discomfort show. Too relaxed. Too easy. As though she'd won a victory. And then again, as she glanced at the snowflake tattooed, branded, imprinted however it was on her son's chest (and looking there she had to fight briefly to keep his creature's instincts from locking her eyes there) she wondered maybe if that was entirely too accurate.

"Good evening," she nodded politely to the Winter Lady, because it would never do to be impolite. "I take it I was interrupting something?"

Not that that had ever stopped her.

--
Not won a victory, per se. It had not been a fight, more of a mutually agreed interaction. it was just... self-assurance. Possibly to a degree a sense of property. Not that she would be so blatant as to display it, not right now. Not very interested in confrontations now.

However... seeing the wizardess's reaction, and when it happened? That was something to remark on. Obviously Thomas had not yet revealed his newly acquired power to his mother in the time elapsed since the event. Curious. But then, mortals usually were.

"Not fully. We were conducting a small experiment. With rather interesting results on both sides, I am sure." Why yes, she was smirking. Just a tinly little bit. And she abstained from making a crass gesture of ownership such as reaching out to touch the Knight. However... "Thomas? Do you want this visit to end now?" Hah. As if he wanted what she didn't, it would precisely work out. But she could stay or go, either way, right now. There was enough to process now. And she did intend to make a show of leaving that Thomas might learn from, if he would watch carefully.

--

He watched the exchange between the two ladies, weighing his response before he spoke. Perhaps he could have taken the opportunity to straighten out his clothing but that would only draw attention. Would only make him look like he was afraid of what Maggie thought. So instead he remained as he would, standing with the sort of self-confidence one some might label arrogance. It made for an effective blind.

When Maeve directed her question to him, Thomas smiled slightly. "I think I've learned more than enough for one day." Which didn't, actually, answer what she'd asked as it didn't speak to what he wanted but...well, it was certainly true.

--

Maggie was damn well going to ask what Thomas had learned, but later. Out of the presence of the Winter Lady.

She inclined her head in something like a bow though without that level of submission or obeisance, wordlessly indicating an encouragement for Maeve to interpret that statement of dismissal. She wouldn't blatantly contradict or supersede Thomas, not in his own house. But she would indicate her own wish for this visit to end. For, ideally, any and all associations Thomas had with either of the fey courts to end, but that was a vain hope by now, wasn't it.

Stars above, she hadn't wanted this to happen. Had never wanted either of her children to become so involved with the Fey. It was bad enough that she'd made that choice for Harry, but now this...

--
Maeve's eyes narrowed with amusement.

"Well met, then," she paused for moment, as though hesitating between calling him by name or title, "Thomas of the family Raith. Perhaps it would be good to let that sink in for a while. Until then - I am sure you will find a way to get in touch if you need." They obviously would get in touch if they wanted him.

And, as far as learning was concerned - she could at least show a way he should be able to duplicate, with some effort possibly to start with, directly to where he would be attended to if and when he showed up. "Or also... Are you watching closely?" She waited for him to look at her, to get his full attention, before slowly opening a gateway to where in the land of the Sidhe he'd be welcomed.

Another smile at him (good learning, there... for both of them), and a slow, careful nod at Margaret. And she was gone. For now.

--

He did indeed watch closely. One final lesson for the day. Something he'd have to replicate. Later. Try to replicate. Though he thinks he's got it. He's crossed into the Never Never before, after all. And before she leaves, he does manage a, "thank you for your time, Lady." Never hurts to be polite (most of the time). Especially to what amounts to one's liege. And wasn't that still a weird thought?

Only once she's gone does Thomas go about casually rearranging his clothing, if only so he doesn't have to look at the expression he imagines is on Maggie's face.

--

There was certainly some sort of a something on Maggie's face. When she didn't have to guard her thoughts from showing up on her features, there was a whole lot of a something. Dismay, for a start. Disappointment. Regret as well, and fear and worry. A great deal of fear and worry. Of all the people in his family, she knew possibly even better than Raith what the Fey were capable of, and she knew what getting entangled with them could lead to. This was not a road she had wanted either of her sons to go down, but of either of them she had thought it would be more likely Harry standing here.

She took a breath and let it out slowly, tilting her head after a second to try and catch Thomas's gaze. "What happened, Thomas?" Her voice was gentle, at least, even if her eyes were slightly wild. She wasn't angry. She would have protested that she wasn't upset, but it would have been a lie.

--

"Well, it isn't every day I come home and find the Winter Lady waiting to pay me a visit, now is it?"

Which, obviously, wasn't the actual answer to the actual question she was asking but it wasn't in his nature to just make things easy. Not this sort of thing, anyway.

And he certainly wouldn't have believed her if she'd said she wasn't upset. He possibly wouldn't even believe she wasn't angry, at least a little. So it's just better all around that that hadn't come up.

--

"I don't know," she said, still gentle and calm, at least in her voice. "Is it?" Or perhaps she meant, is it going to be a regular occurrance. The Winter Lady had certainly seemed awfully at home with Thomas.

Well, perhaps no more at home than a lot of other women had been. But mortal women. Not a Fae power.

--

"I don't expect it will be, no."

More often than he ever saw the Winter Lady in the past (read: never)? Well, yes. Daily? Nope!

"Though I'm sorry you had to witness that." Which was quite possibly tinged more with sorry I was caught.

--

Maggie gave him a look of I can read your subtext. Which was possibly because she was his mother and possibly because she was good at reading subtext, and more likely a combination of the two.

"I'm sure," she murmured, which was more like I'm sure you are. "What happened, Thomas? What was that and that," she pointed at the snowflake brand. "All about?"

--

Dammit. Straight questions. And he wasn't inclined to out and out lie. Well, not to Maggie, anyway. "That," meaning Maeve's visit, "was a simple informational exchange. She wanted to tell me about some of the ways of Winter. And I-...wanted to know how the Hunger would affect one of the Sidhe." Which was true. He had wanted to know and he'd certainly liked what he had learned.

"As for the other. That was part of a bargain." Which was, likely, obvious. Why else would he have it?

And even now he was fairly certain he would make that bargain again for what it had given him.

--

"What bargain."

Maggie's voice... well, now Maggie's voice was less than gentle and closer to what one might call angry. There was steel in it, for certain. There was no edge to it, or at least, it wasn't directed at Thomas. It was most likely directed at the Winter Queen. Maggie didn't think that Maeve would have attempted something so bold on her own.

But. The Winter Queen came with her own set of dangers, dangers which she did not want either of her boys dealing with. Perhaps it was only a mother's instinct to protect her sons.

--

Perhaps there were some who would be inclined to back down a bit at the sound of that steel in Maggie's voice. Perhaps Thomas would be one of those...if he hadn't also grown up under the White King. Among many others in his life. So he merely stood there, thumbs hooked through the belt loops on his hips, his stance appearing relaxed.

He didn't, after all, care to push this into more of a fight by simple body language.

Still, he sighed. He hadn't wanted her to find out like this. Of course, it was possible he'd been irrationally hoping she wouldn't find out at all. Her or Harry. "The Winter Court was in need of a Knight."

--

Maggie's eyes widened and, certainly not for the first time in her life but possibly for the first time in front of her son, she felt her legs give way under her until she was sitting slightly splay-legged on the ground, the fingertips of one hand pressed to her forehead. Thomas. The Winter Knight. She had known that Mab was courting her boys, she wasn't surprised, really. Dismayed might be the better word.

Tired was a good one, too. Not surprised that Mab had offered, but that Thomas had accepted. There were only a few things that would get him to do that.

"What did she offer you."

--

That...hadn't been the reaction he was expecting. It worried him. He dropped into a crouch beside her, both to make sure she wasn't also looking a little too pale and so he wasn't ~~looming~~ towering over her.

"Justine."

He paused. Reconsidered. Or actually..."the power to use to touch her again."

It wasn't as if, after all, he'd magically had Justine living with him now that he belonged to Mab. Nor that he'd just been able to bypass the protection laid on her without figuring out how to do so himself.

--
Maggie sort of winced. "That would do it, I suppose." Of course, that had done it, but she could well imagine giving up almost anything to make Justin whole, to keep Malcolm safe. To keep her sons safe. Love was one of the most powerful forces in the universe, she had never denied that. Still...

Still, it was her son. And he was the Winter Knight, and now his loyalties were pulled in a direction she would never have had him go. Dammit.

"Well." Maggie took a breath, pretending to be easier or steadier than she was. "Done is done, I suppose." It was better than going you bloody idiot, what the hell did you think you were doing?

--

And it was something he well knew and pointing it out would only make him obstinate.

So he offered her up a crooked smile, "pretty much."

Done had to be done anyway, considering it wasn't the sort of thing she could change.

--

Still. She eyed him sideways. "I'm sure I'll yell at you later for this. Mother's perogative." Although now that she'd said that she probably wouldn't.

Not unless he went and did something even more foolish, or compounding the foolishness.

--

He opened his arms to her, "I'll practice my sulky teenager glares just for the occasion."

Which had to be at least a little funny, considering he was a grownup. Most of the time.

--

"Brat," she smiled, hugging him gently. Sadly, really. "What on earth am I going to do with you?"

--
He was that.

"This right here, this is good."

--

"Well, all right then."

And it was. For now.

OOC Note

2008-10-16T01:32:27Z

Please to be assuming that any future posts from Thomas might contain spoilers for Backup as I've just finished reading it and there are ideas swirling in my head.

I'll try to remember to warn/cut, but I'm not making promises.

raith_wraith @ 2008-10-07T22:03:00

2008-10-08T02:03:59Z

♥THE RP LOVE MEME♥
V2 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

For the record

2008-09-24T01:23:50Z

If you want Thomas to be involved in anything (plot or just easy meta crack or whatever), I'm totally open to that. Just...you need to poke me. I'm not feeling terribly inclined right now toward poking every time I want someone to play with him. I'm more likely to go play Kingdom Hearts or something.

Leave a note here, email me, IM me, whatever. :)

Taken from a bunch of people

2008-07-24T17:29:36Z

1. Your Name:
2. Are we friends?
3. Do you have a crush/attracted to me?
4. Would you kiss me?
5. ...with tongue?
6. Would you enjoy it?
7. Would you ever ask me out or go out with me if I ask you out?
8. Would you make a move on me in a movie theatre?
9. Tell me one odd/interesting fact about you:
10. Would you take care of me when I'm sick?
11. Do you want to tell me something that you couldn't before?
12. If you heard a rumour about me, would you defend me?
13. Do you think I'm a good person?
14. Would you let me sleep with you (in the same bed)?
15. Do you think I'm hot?
16. Would you call me just because?
17. Would you ever listen to my problems even if they don't involve you?
18. If you could change anything about me, would you?
19. Would you have sex with me?
20. Would you come over for no reason just to hang out?
21. What do you like most about me (looks and/or personality)?
22. Will you post this so I can fill it out for you?

Summer Knight Quotes

2008-07-24T00:45:50Z

Figured it might be pertinent to a particular AU. This came after poking through Summer Knight.

"The Knights are entrusted with power by the Sidhe Courts. They're tough."

"I don't know much about them," I confessed. "They're some kind of representative of the faeries, right?"

"Don't call them that to their faces, Harry. They don't like it any more than you'd like being called an ape."

"Just tell me what I'm dealing with."

Bob's eyelights narrowed until they almost went out, then brightened again after a moment, as the skull began to speak. "A Sidhe Knight is mortal," Bob said. "A champion of one of the Sidhe Courts. He gets powers in line with his Court, and he's the only one who is allowed to act in affairs not direclty related to the Sidhe."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that if one of the Queens wants an outsider dead, her Knight is the trigger man."

I frowned. "Hang on a minute. You mean that the Queens can't personally gun down anyone who isn't in their Court?"

"Not unless the target does something stupid like make an open-ended bargain without even trying to trade a baby for--"

"Off topic, Bob. Do I or don't I have to worry about getting killed this time around?"

"Of course you do," Bob said in a cheerful tone. "It just means that the Queen isn't allowed to actually, personally end your life. They could, however, trick you into walking into quicksand and watch you drown, turn you into a stag and set the hounds after you, bind you into an enchanted sleep for a few hundred years, that kind of thing."

"I guess it was too good to be true. But my point is that if Reuel was the Summer Knight, Mab couldn't have killed him. Right? So why should she be under suspicion?"

"Because she could have done it indirectly. And Harry, odds are the Sidhe don't really care about Reuel's murder. Knights come and go like paper cups. I'd guess that they were upset about something else. The only thing they really care about."

"Power," I guessed.

"See, you can use your brain when you want to."

I shook my head. "Mab said something had been taken, and that I'd know what it was," I muttered. "I guess that's it. How much power are we talking about?"

"A Knight of the Sidhe is no pushover, Harry," Bob said, his tone earnest.

"So we're talking about a lot of magic going AWOL. Grand theft mojo." I drummed my pen on the table. "Where does the power come from originally?"

"The Queens."

I frowned. "Tell me if I'm off track here. If it comes from the Queens, it's a part of them, right? If a Knight dies, the power should snap back to the Queen like it was on a rubber band."

"Exactly."

SK, pages 123-124

"...How tough would it be to kill one of this Knights?"

"A flight of stairs wouldn't do it. A couple of flights of stairs wouldn't do it. Maybe if he went on an elevator ride with you--"

"Very funny." I frowned, drumming my pen on the table. "So it would have taken that little something extra to take out Reuel. Who could manage it?"

"Regular folks could do it. But they wouldn't be able to do it without burning buildings and smoking craters and so on. To kill him so that it looked like an accident? Maybe another Knight could. Among the Sidhe, it ws either the Winter Knight or one of the Queens."

"Could a wizard do it?"

"That goes without saying. But you'd have to be a pretty brawny wizard, have plenty of preparation and a good channel to him. Even then, smoking craters would be easier than an accident."

[...]

"Three Queens in each Court? Six? That's just silly."

"Not if you think about it. Each Court has three Queens: The Queen Who Was, the Queen Who Is, and the Queen Who Is to Come."

"Great. Which one does the Knight work for?"

"All of them. It's kind of a group thing. He has different duties to each Queen."

SK, pages 126-127

It was a man, maybe in his early thirties, medium build, maybe half an inch shy of six feet tall. He wore dark jeans, a white tee, and a leather jacket. Droplets of dark reddish brown stained the shirt and one side of his face. His scalp was bald but for a stubble of dark hair.

As he approached, I picked out more details. He had a brand on his throat. A snowflake made of white scar tissue stood out sharply against his skin. The skin on one side of his face was red and a little swollen, and he was missing half of the eyebrow and a crescent of the stubble on his scalp on that side --he'd been burned, and recently. He reached the throne and dropped to one knee before it, somehow conveying a certain relaxed insolence with the gesture, and extended the box to Maeve.

[...]

His face twisted in sudden fury. He took up the knife, rose to his feet, and stalked toward Maeve with murder in his eye.

Maeve drew herself up, her face shining with a sudden terrible beauty. She lifted her right hand, ring finger and thumb both bent, and murmured something in a liquid, alien tongue. Sudden blue light gathered around her fingers, and the temperature in the room dropped by about forty degrees. She spoke again, and flicked her wrist, sending glowing motes of azure flickering toward Slate.

The snowflake brand flared into sudden light, and Slate's advance halted, his body going rigid. The skin around the brand turned blue, then purple, then black, spreading like a stop-motion enhanced film of gangrene. A quiet snarl slipped from Slate's lips, and I could see his body trembling with the effort to continue toward Maeve. He shuddered and took another step forward.

Maeve lifted her other hand, her index finger extended while the others curled, and a sudden wind whipped past me, cold enough that it stole the breath from my lungs. The wind whipped madly around Slate, making his leather coat flap. Bits of white frost started forming on his eyelashes and eyebrows. His expression, now anguished as well as full of rage, faltered, and his advance halted again.

"Calm him," Maeve murmured.

Jen slipped behind Slate, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaving her mouth down close to his ear. Slate's eyes flickered with hot, violent hate for a moment, and then began to grow heavier. Jen ran her hand slowly down the sleeve of his jacket, fingers caressing his wrist. His arm lowered as I watched. A moment later, Jen slid the jacket from his shoulders. The tee was sleeveless, and Slate's arms were hard with muscle--and tracked with needle marks. Jen held out a hand, and another darting pixie handed her a hypodermic needle. Jen slipped it into the bend of his arm, still whispering to him, sliding the plunger slowly down.

SK, pages 177-180

"How does the mantle pass on from one Knight to the next?"

Mother Summer smiled, but the expression was a grim one. "It returns to the nearest reflection of itself. To the nearest vessel of Summer. She, in turn, chooses the next Knight."

SK, page 295

On the lead horse, the first whose hooves touched the ground on our side of the river, was the Winter Knight. Lloyd Slate was spattered in liquids of various colors that could only be blood. He bore a sword in one hand, the reins to his mount in the other, and he was laughing. Even as he landed, the nearby goblins mounted a charge.

Slate turned toward them, sword whirling and gathering with it a howl of freezing winds, its blade riming with ice. He met the first goblin's sword with his own, and the squat faerie soldier's blade shattered. Slate shifted his shoulders and sent his horse leaping a few feet to one side. Behind him, the goblin's head toppled from its shoulders...

SK, page 343

Evidently, whatever power it was that let Slate shrug off a bolt of lightning had been expended, or else it couldn't stand up to the cold steel of Fix's weapon.

SK page 350

Maeve stood there in her white armor, and Mother Winter stood behind her, all shrouded in black cloth. Before them on the ground knelt Lloyd Slate, broken, obviously in pain, his hands manacled to the collar around his throat, the whole made of something that looked like cloudy ice.

"We have a traitor among us," Mab purred. "And he will be dealt with accordingly. After which there will be an opening for a new Knight." She watched me and said, "I would have someone worthy of more trust as his successor. Accept that power and all debts between us are canceled."

"Not just no," I muttered. "Hell, no."

Mab's smile widened. "Very well, then. I'm sure we can find some way to amuse ourselves with this one until time enough as passed to offer again."

Slate looked up, blearily, his voice slurred and panicky. "No. No, Dresden. Dresden, don't let them. Dn't let them take me. Take it, please, don't let them keep me waiting."

Mab touched my head again and said, "Only twice more, then, and you will be free of me."

And they left.

Lloyd Slate's screams lingered behind them.

SK, page 365

I'll probably do Proven Guilty and Small Favor too at some point, but not right now. :)

AU - Warden!Thomas

2008-07-23T22:27:16Z

[a while back, Jag asked for Warden!Thomas. It percolated in my brain a while and this sort of resulted. I'm pretty sure it's not the end and it likely needs work but...here you go! In all of its 1811 words glory!]

A fairy tale this was not.

Of course, when you're tracking a wanted murderer who just happens to be a dark wizard, well, it wasn't likely to have a happy ending.

For the bad guy, anyway.

I'd been following him for over a year now. Almost caught up with him in St. Augustine but the bastard has damnable luck. Wonder what he sold his soul -- what's left of it, anyway -- to for that. Not that I'm looking to make any kind of similar deal. I'm not crazy.

I'm Thomas. And I'm a Warden.

So far, I'd tracked my bad guy to Chicago and had it on fairly good authority that he was still here. Cozying up to the local Red Court vampires or something.

Chicago. And vampires. Two of my not so favorite things all wrapped up in one crappy package.

Normally, Wardens were more of the "keep an eye out and come in with the artillery when bad stuff's going down" types. Sort of the beat cops for the wizarding community. We weren't so much in the way of detectives. Except when we needed to be. Like with this guy, Dresden.

This guy's life story sucked even more than mine. His mother had died giving birth to him, his dad a few years later. Apparently, he was bounced around a few foster homes until he started coming in to his magic. Something about the neighbor's cat spontaneously combusing. Luckily for him, he was found by a Warden before he went much further. Justin duMorne had been one of the best of us -- note the past tense -- and he had claimed to see something in the boy. He took Dresden in, brought him up like a son. That only lasted a few years. They had a falling out. Dresden walked away. DuMorne? Didn't.

Dresden claimed duMorne had tried to enthrall him, a major no-no according to the Laws of Magic, and they'd ended up in a duel. Somehow, Dresden managed to win and killed his mentor. Leave out the Darth Vader student-kills-the-master jokes, please. The Laws of Magic are clear on this point: you don't kill another human with magic. Period. Dresden should have died for that, but because he claimed it was self defense and another wizard, McCoy, took responsibility for him, he was put under the Doom of Damocles. One misstep and on the chopping block he went. That was the theory, anyway.

He didn't last long with McCoy. They also parted on bad terms but at least McCoy was still standing when it was over.

Unfortunately, so was Dresden. Apparently, he'd disappeared off into the NeverNever somewhere. He only popped up again a few years ago. Not that anyone on the Council laid eyes on him. At least, not until I had the ever-so-good fortune to practically trip over him last year in New Orleans. There was this whole thing with zombies...but that'll be another story. Because I found him, he became my responsibility to find and put down. Y'know, with extreme prejudice.

And I've got a hell of a lot of prejudice.

So, I ended up following him all over the ends of the Earth. To here. Chicago.

Have I mentioned I hate Chicago?

And vampires! Why did it have to be vampires?

At least it's the Red Court.

Holy hell, Dresden's been in Bianca's place a while. This stakeout goes on much longer, I'm going to wish I'd followed cop protocol and brought along donuts and coffee. At the very least I'm going to have stretch so-

Why is my spidey sense tingling?

"Forzare!"

I feel the wave of energy approaching a split second before I hear Dresden's shout. Just enough time to brace and call up my shield. He must have come out the other door and circled around. This is one of those times when backup comes in handy. Too bad I haven't got any. How the hell did he know I was out here, anyway?

Enough thinking. Time for some retaliating. I snarled a word from ancient Etruscan and in response, a silvery beam of light shot out of my wand, hitting Dresden square in the chest. Or, well, it would have if he didn't have a shield of his own.

The battle was joined and we fought as only wizards can, with flashes of light and thunderous displays of power. It was a wonder we didn't have an audience with all the noise we were making, there in the street. Not that I could pay that much attention to that sort of thing, not against Dresden. Christ, but he was strong! I hadn't intended on actually engaging him this soon. Not without backup from the local Wardens. That plan was shot all to hell.

Wait. There's an opening. I take it, sending a surge of energy through the ground between us. The asphalt fairly ripples and when it gets to Dresden? It bucks, tossing him twenty feet, at least. He lands in a crumpled heap.

"And now," I say as I approach, drawing the Warden's sword from its scabbard at my side, "we can finish this."

He's up faster than I expect, and at the same time, I sense him pulling with his magic. It's not directed at me, though but some girl who'd appeared on the steps of Bianca's building. The girl has no choice, she flies into his arms with a shriek. Dresden grins at me over her head, baring his teeth. "Going to have to go through the girl first, Warden."

I look at the girl. She's obviously one of Bianca's, the glazed look in her eyes, even in her fear, can attest to that. Not to mention her near complete lack of anything that could be termed clothing. She was young, with dark hair and wide, doe eyes. Absolutely stunning, really, even for her age. She looked like a nice girl who'd gotten mixed up with the very wrong crowd. "Not one of your smartest ideas, Dresden," I sneered, "banking on my chivalry." Even if he was right.

He smiled, "that so? Let's find out," and then he was tossing the girl at me and I reacted as best I could. Which meant catching her and suddenly being hobbled with an armful of girl.

I was distracted enough by that that it took me a moment to realize something sharp had pricked my arm. Some sort of warm, pleasant lassitude began to spread out from where the needle had gone in. I pushed the girl away and stumbled back. "What...what did you do?"

Dresden's smile had only grown, the girl had disappeared back inside somewhere as he approached me. "Looks like I was right to bank on your chivalry, Warden Raith."

I stared up at him in blinking confusion. I'd dropped the name Raith years ago, taken on my teacher's surname. How the hell did this guy know me? And why did I care again? Things were getting fuzzy around the edges. Dresden, my vision, my thoughts...everything was fuzzy. It was kind of nice. Soothing. What was the problem? Dresden was saying something that seemed pretty reasonable. Something about going inside and resting. That sounded like a good idea. A nice comfy bed. Bask in this feeling. I hadn't been this relaxed since I was twelve.

Nothing else really made any impression until I came out of it, a dull ache in my wrists waking me up. And it wasn't a nice comfy bed I found myself in. No, this was a shower, fully tiled, about the size of a walk in closet. And I was chained to the ceiling. And naked. I started wondering just what I'd agreed to while I was under the influence of whatever that had-

Oh wait. Red Court. Narcotic vampire spit. Enough to take down a frigging horse. A warm echo of the sensations it had been provided ran through my body. For just a minute I wondered if they'd give it to me again. But that way lies madness, I knew that. Better to get the hell out of Dodge. Chains couldn't hold a wizard. Surely Dresden knew better than that. Maybe he'd counted on the vampire spit to keep me down, but I was conscious now and not happy. To say the least. I looked up to where the chains attached to the ceiling and started calling to my magic.

I'd barely even begun when the shower cut on, instantly soaking me in what felt like frigid water. I couldn't stop myself from yelping, more in frustration at the feeling of the magic I'd gathered swirling down the drain with the water.

"Tsk tsk," said a voice in the doorway, just out of range of the water. "Can't have you going just yet, now can we?"

I turned one of my more impressive glares on my captor, "cut the crap, Dresden, what do you want from me?" Obviously, he hadn't killed me outright, he must have wanted something.

He ignored my question. "Just think, if you'd followed in your family's footsteps, you wouldn't even be in this predicament right now."

Sudden, white-hot rage boiled up in me. How did the bastard know? Through gritted teeth I responded, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes." He said. "Yes you do, Thomas Raith, bastard son of the White King. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I snarled, "do I look like a vampire to you?"

He smiled again. "No. But you look like the spitting image of Lord Raith."

I was still angry, but I tried to reign it in, and played along, "alright Dresden, what the hell do you think you know?"

"What I've already said. How you ended up leaving the caring embrace," he snorted, "of your family and finding the White Council. Why you became a Warden. Why you fight so hard for them. Oh, and I know what happened to your mother."

He must have seen the look of shock on my face because he laughed. "She left you with those vipers-"

"Takes one to know one," I interjected.

Dresden raised his eyebrows and waved his hand in a gesture meant to indicate the building, "what? Because I've got a business relationship with Bianca?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "No. Because I think you're a snake."

His eyes narrowed, "you say that now... But anyway. She abandoned you to the tender loving care of your father and ran away where she ended up taking up with a stage magician named Malcolm Dresden." And then, he just waited, watching me.

No. No. I'm related to enough monsters already, I don't need him too!

"Yes," he hissed, seeing the understanding dawn on my face. "We have a lot to talk about, brother."

he isn't /always/ smart...

2008-07-15T02:20:09Z

He was good. For a while. Even if he did hang onto the card. It didn't really seem like the sort of thing he could exactly just dispose of, leaving a Faerie Queen's phone number lying around. Even if that was a bit irrational. Besides, there was always the chance it might come in useful some day. Maybe. So he kept it and went about his life.

For a while.

But in the back of his mind, he did keep wondering what it would hurt to just find out what she wanted from him. He could always say no. Even Elaine said she wouldn't be able to force him into anything. And he was curious just what he could do for the Winter Queen that she offered him as big a boon as she had seemed to.

And hey, at least she wasn't one of the Fallen. Though Thomas was pretty certain there were those who would argue she wasn't much better, if at all. But he'd grown up around this sort of thing, hadn't he? Misdirection. Making deals. The subtleties of the White Court. That had to be something in his favor.

Some part of him made that sound sensible. Almost. Enough.

It didn't help that ever since he'd seen Justine that day -- and had her snatched away from him yet again -- he'd felt an almost palpable ache without her presence. In some ways, it was worse than the first time. Then he hadn't known there was any way around it, really. Now?

Now there was. And that was what he kept coming back to.

If he could really be with her again, she could be with him. He could protect her, she wouldn't have to stay under Lara's aegis anymore. Just another way to get himself out from under the thumb of his sister. So to speak.

So that's how it came down to Thomas walking by the Lake far too late at night when he really should be doing something sensible. Like sleeping. Instead of letting his mind spin around all the possibilities. The what-could-bes. Mostly centering on those he wanted far too much.

The card was in his pocket. What could it really hurt? he could almost hear the sibilant whisper in the back of his mind. He wasn't committing to anything. Not really. He knew better than that.

He pulled the card out and stared at it for several long moments before slowly also retrieving his cell. Just as slowly, he dialed the number and listened to his phone ring.

The die was cast.

off to see the wizard

2008-07-12T23:46:48Z

To say that Thomas wasn't in the best of moods after leaving Justine would be... well, a definite understatement. At least he had part of the equation figured out. Now if he just knew what Mab wanted from him. Of course, there was really only one way to find that out.

By asking her.

He could practically feel the thin piece of cardstock in his pocket pressing against his leg. Just call her up, right? Well, before that, he had some information gathering to do first. Namely, from his brother. Harry was the one who'd been dealing with her lately and he'd already gotten Maggie's opinion of the matter. So. Harry.

Thomas pulled up outside of Harry's apartment and headed down to the door. He'd tried to call ahead, but couldn't get through and figured the combined magical auras of two wizards living down there had probably put the phones on the fritz, as usual, so he wasn't too terribly concerned. And just because Elaine was living there now didn't prevent Thomas from letting himself in and calling out, "hey, Harry, you here?"

taken from ivy

2008-07-12T12:54:20Z

Your result for The Elemental Balance Test...

Canyon

I only wanna open wide the window

and let sunlight through...

Your colours are light blue, gold, and a darker orange. You are likely protective, good with money, intelligent and have sharp wits. However, you may sometimes appear methodical or stressed. You could try wearing a Hawks Eye that inspires serenity and helps come to terms with imperfection, and thus bring you a bit closer to harmony.

In detail:

Your Creative Chakra, which is associated with the element of </b>earth</b> and represents our need to preserve and grow, and your Throat Chakra, which is associated with the element of wind and represents our desire to learn and communicate, are predominant.

Your Ground Chakra, which is associated with the element of fire and represents our basic desires and driving force, and your Heart Chakra, which is associated with the element of water and represents our sense of love and compassion are not quite as prominent.

These are the results you will get if you score highly on...

None of the four elements: Balance Wind: Gust Fire: Blaze Water: River Earth: Valley Wind & Fire: Thunder Wind & Water: Clouds Wind & Earth: Canyon Fire & Earth: Lava Fire & Water: Tornado Water & Earth: Trees Wind, Fire & Earth: Storm Wind, Fire & Water: Stars Wind, Water & Earth: Forest Fire, Water & Earth: Avalanche All four elements: Harmony

Take The Elemental Balance Test at HelloQuizzy

RP Log with Justine

2008-07-11T23:35:52Z

Thomas finds out what Mab has to offer him.

raith_wraith @ 2008-07-06T09:01:00

2008-07-06T13:02:23Z

~~taken from my mother~~

Powered By limobus

You know the drill

2008-07-01T00:49:54Z

Pick Your Fic

Pick a Thomas and I'll write a fic double drabble based on him and your muse. You can pick your top three and it would be fun if other people posted this too, but I obviously can't make you. Also if you tag here, I'll be sure to tag yours.

1. Playful!Thomas
2. Murderous!Thomas
3. Flailing!Thomas
4. Incarcerated!Thomas
5. Deviant!Thomas
6. Warden!Thomas - for Jag
7. Intoxicated!Thomas
8. Wildly Inappropriate!Thomas
9. Eloquent!Thomas
10. Cooking!Thomas
11. Naked!Thomas - for Anna
12. Remorseful!Thomas
13. Faux Innocent!Thomas
14. Young!Thomas
15. Not-so-Eloquent!Thomas
16. Bedtime!Thomas
17. Jealous!Thomas
18. Inquisitive!Thomas
19. Gloating!Thomas
20. Arrogant!Thomas
21. Pissed-Off!Thomas
22. Loving!Thomas
23. Seaside!Thomas
24. Needs-a-Hug!Thomas
25. Choose-your-own!Thomas

Please to be noting that for me? Drabble pretty much means "write some little scene long enough to be more than a paragraph and short enough it's not a full fledged fic." so I'm not making promises on the exact length of these.

raith_wraith @ 2008-06-05T21:48:00

2008-06-06T01:48:19Z

My Fortune Cookie told me:
The stiffness of an earlobe will incite your passions next Friday.
Get a cookie from Miss Fortune

Memes

2008-06-05T01:44:35Z

Reply to this post with anything you'd like and I'll tell you why I friended you and two things I love about how you play your muse. The only catch? You have to repost this as well.