Stolen Time Locked In Black Crystal (Duncan Pls)

[Gossamer]

TS: Immanis, Early Winter, XV (pf)
1497 Riverview Lane

The streets were quiet and the snow was freshly falling. The woman always loved fresh snowfalls. Her eyes scanned the hard crystalline structure of the creek where it flowed past one side of her property and wound carefully out into the main river in a series of frozen waterfalls that lent the little acre and a half estate a semblance of the wilds even in the heart of the scholarly quarter. Albrae Nordmar was restless. Her Virkyn wasn't though, instead patiently gathering snowflakes on his coat as he watched his mistress shift and get comfortable again. The girl was missing the Rhasic again. Tyrale sighed and studied his Sanguine sister hopelessly. Since the Zali'mau, Albrae had mellowed. He'd even thought perhaps she'd showed weakness there. The battle between Niravia and Albrae had gone well, and the girl was winning when suddenly she pulled back, hesitated, and gave over the fight to the Sanguine's Senior most member. He hadn't understood. Not at all. And the Rhasic hiding among them witnessing their most sacred rites hadn't interfered. That in itself was crazy beyond belief. Times had passed and change had come about, but Tyrale knew that some things routinely stayed the same. Albrae was breaking all the rules, and Duncan was helping her... though he had only a few handful of years left before the crystalline madness took his mind. The child would be born... early spring, unless he missed his mark. It angered Tyrale on many levels. She should be carrying a Sanguine child, one to bond with one of his pups that Nemaru now carried low in her belly. They could be born about the same time, raised together.... but Albrae's flesh was tainted by the seed of the Rhasic who somehow hadn't managed to leave her yet. Oh, Duncan wandered, but he always came back or took Albrae with him, depending upon the reason and the need. They weren't without their arguments either. Albrae's quiet house had grown lively in the last year, filled with laughter and love, though most of it he figured was stolen time.

He'd even started to soften towards Duncan, though he'd not probably ever be able to admit that to himself. Duncan represented a threat and a true danger to the Sanguine, though Tyrale hadn't yet found any clue or sign that his words or his actions where anything but what they were. Also, there were other things.... other darker secrets the Virkyn and indeed some of the Sanguine were carrying. A few knew.... about the baby. Some had vowed to not let it live. Others had vowed that Albrae had turned on the Sanguine... though Niravia had given no sign of yet that this was so. They would follow her guidance, before acting, but that didn't mean their insensitive words didn't cause the woman disquiet. It was the reason she was so often alone at home.

When she wasn't with him. Tyrale signed. The pair had traveled. Duncan had shown Albrae a whole completely different world outside of the one she knew that continuously blooded her hands. He'd taken her to ruins, and talked of long dead cultures. They'd camped out on streams high up in the mountains, and rode horses will across the primus countryside. The mystic had taken her to see a flying ship because she'd snorted at the news and said such a thing had NEVER existed. And then stood holding his hand and laughing as they watched one launch.

And she in turn shared secrets of the past with him. Some of the dead cultures that fascinated him a little she remembered seeing alive. Albrae had shown him crystal that could be sung into buildings and fortresses with only a tiny seed. She knew names for things that had been wholly forgotten by time, and showed him old trails into cities that no longer existed just because she'd remembered restoring a map once a thousand years ago.

They played off each other, and the more time they spent together the less words passed between them. Flickers of glances, brief touches, a quick fleeting smile. Their language was one of lovers having settled into a life that was at best borrowed. And while Duncan was presently away again, something for Milo, Tyrale decided, his mistress was obviously thinking of him. Her foot was propped up on an iron railing as she leaned back in her lounge chair wrapped in a polar bear fur that the mystic ha brought her from somewhere far away. Her hand was stroking her stomach, and she was softly singing to her child.

Gone was the hard assassin, though Tyrale knew she would and could return in a flicker of a heartbeat if the situation merited it. Instead, a woman sat there, soft and snuggled into her life, content with the pathway she was on for the time being, uncertain what the future would bring. It was hard to imagine that she'd come so far in such a short time. Her face glowed, and she looked so peaceful staring out at the frozen world. Tyrale knew it was a deception. The woman, as soft as she seemed, was a killer and blood stained her hands just as readily as the snowflakes stuck to her hair. In fact, the night before she'd killed. Garrote wire and borrowing her Virkyn's shadowstalking, she'd slipped unseen into the insane bowels of the city, taking care of someone who was leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Tyrale went with her, never leaving her side these days with her body so awkward. He'd recognized the problem immediately.... crystalline madness creating a killer. Albrae had cut him down, but it had left her winded and frankly she hadn't moved fast enough. The man had knicked her arm with his knife and she now had stitches up one side. Tyrale had licked the wound clean so there would be no infection, but he'd insisted she get it stitched. Afterwards, the blood had made her vomit, and he'd put his paw down firmly. No more hunting until after the baby was born.

Reluctantly she'd agreed... so he blamed part of the restlessness on that. Albrae didn't do well with 'rules' nor did it seem with occupying her time when there was no work and no Duncan to distract her.

[Duncan Sythe]

So much done in so little time. Duncan didn't even feel like he had wasted it, for once. It was the first time he'd had time to himself, to relax...and not felt like he should be doing something else. Granted he'd gone away again every so often but far more rarely than he ususally did. Then again this was his child and the woman he loved so there was a vast difference between this and what had happened before. Yet it was done in such a way that it was not as if either of them were under any illusions.

As Tyrale was only too ready to remind him the danger remained and it had been his irresponsible actions that had caused the situation they were now in. Although more recently his warnings had grown less severe and less frequent...and it seemed he understood more and more the shared responsibility both him and Albrae felt.

Not that it made things simple, far from it. But they'd both been avoiding things. The baby had put an artificial limit on that though else they'd have kept on going until the Sanguine stepped in an interfered. No, Albrae's activity was proof of that as Tyrale knew from having to stop her...up until she was no longer able to move they had both been pretending that they could go on like this forever, whilst the baby brought them closer together it was also now the thing that was going to shake the pair, Sanguine and Rhasic alike, back to reality.

He appeared in the upstairs bedroom of the house now, the room looking back onto the brook. One moment no-one was present and the next Duncan was placing his saddlebags down next to the bed and unhooking the sword belt from his waist, brushing his hair back and unbuttoning his coat.

Duncan placed the fine brown leather over the back of a chair and packed the last few things away in what were now their normal places around Albrae's room, then exchanged worn boots for sandles and headed down the stairs with a bundle under his arm covered in rough spun white linen. He paused at the bottom, dressed now in a simple loose white tunic and brown leather breeches, to collect a fresh wine jug and an extra mug and then headed out into the garden.

His eyes of course immediately took in the stitches on her arm but he said nothing of them to begin with, instead placing the mug and jug held in one hand awkwardly down on the table before coughing slightly to get her attention, squatting down so she didn't have to move.

“My Lady.” He said with a wry smile. At any other time such a smile would not pass his lips, a hint of sarcasm evident in it but now that self-same smile converted itself to something deeply mischievous and heatfelt as he whipped the linen off with one hand to present a finely lacquered wooden box that was effectively a small cube split across the middle with a clasp on the side facing Albrae. The top was engraved with fine stones in the shape of a teardrop.

“Open it.” He suggested once she took it, the clasp of simple brass. Once opened it revealed a pair of fine figures in glass that were quite clearly shaped with a talent beyond that of a simple glass blower. There were striking similarities to the two of them evident in the craftsmanship as the two figures rotated on a background of trees...and music played from the base of the box as a little brass handle turned.

The music box played its tune for several minutes as the two figures twirled, following a pattern in the floor that coincided with the length of the tune until they stopped on the far side of the box from where they had begun.

Duncan meanwhile waited expectantly, clearly not going to mention the cut on her arm. He'd expect an answer eventually of course but had no intention of starting off their reunion with a chastisement when he'd brought a gift.

[Gossamer]

She never asked him where he'd went when he disappeared. Their relationship was strange like that. No picket fences, no relatives over for dinner, but they did quietly mark time and rejoice when they were together. A flick of Tyrale's ears alerted her to Duncan's return and she turned her head to catch his gaze. A smile flickered across her face as she pushed open the blanket and scooted over on the wooden deck chair, leaving him plenty of room to join her and snuggle within the warmth if he chose.

Albrae accepted the gift, slightly startled by it, though curious nonetheless. Long fingers ran over the wood, admiring the craftsmanship as she worked open the clasp. Her green eyes widened at the glass figures and she studied them fascinated. He brought her such unusual things. The melody was an old elven folksong, but one she liked nonetheless. There was a child's wonder about her at the gift and she smiled and thanked him. "It was a lot of trouble to have made, wasn't it? I love it though, so thank you very much." The sanguine said. Duncan might have been startled to note she was only wearing thick wool socks that matched her oversized sweater and black leggings beneath the blanket. No boots. No underlining layers. Typical.

She was careful of the stitching on her forearm as she leaned forward and set the box up on the table in front and to one side of them. Albrae left it to play out so she could see the figures dance together. She turned to him, touched his face, and left a soft press of lips against his cheek. If he joined her in the blanket, she'd curl up against him, and quietly ask the first question that she always seemed to ask him. "How are you?" It wasn't a simple standard mindless question, one two strangers exchanged. No, this was something far more complex. She asked it with her words, but sought the answers with her eyes, her hearing, her gut instinct. Was Duncan feeling okay? Strange thoughts? Moodswings? Unexplained rages? She touched him along his arm and looked into his deep blue eyes, seeking the quiet sanity she always saw there. Once it was acknowledged, she'd smile, relax, and begin to speak.

"Tyrale has put me on notice. I'm not to go out anymore. Niravia moved two younger sanguine into the city today to work under my direction, but they are so young, Duncan. One is sixteen and the other only twelve. There is no one else..." Albrae said softly. "I was slow last night. We had a stalker over in Old Prime. He was about as far gone as I've seen one. I'm just not able to move as fast as I once was... so I'm sitting it out until Spring. Nemaru is going to have a big litter. Everyone says at least six, maybe eight. I hope at least half survive and bond. Maybe even if the baby is early....." She trailed off, not sure how he felt about this. It was too soon, and it had never been done, but she wanted survival for her people, and hope for his as well.

"But enough about me... tell me something of what you've been about. The music box is lovely... I've never seen finer craftsmanship." The question was a general one followed by a comment to buffer it, leaving it open to his thoughts on things lately, where he'd been, or perhaps a discussion on the acquisition of the box. She reached up, traced a new line on his face, and frowned at him. Politics. "You've been with Milo again, or off on a task for him haven't you? Every time you're about with that man, or whomever in the government, you come back looking more weighted down." She would have been more worried, but she knew the Regent turned Prince never asked things of Duncan. He just volunteered. The man had a unique talent for showing up to help, even in the most odd of times. Albrae had noticed that about him a great deal. He sacrificed for others, gave of his free time and personal life until there was nothing left of it remaining to enjoy. So she did what any sensible woman could. She stole back pieces of it, dosed him liberally with as much relaxing time as she could, and tried desperately and almost as selfishly to distract him into laughter and inject joy into his quiet existence.

"There's a new exhibit in the Museum Row I want to take you to see. I've got a set of open ended tickets in the event you returned before it moved, since its traveling at the end of the winter. They are artifacts from a barbarian king's tomb, including most of his worldly posessions. It dates back to the time of the Krevion, and has the mummies of all fourty three of his wives. I've heard over and over that its disturbing, but I remember tales of the monarch.... and he was a mystic of some significance, so I thought you might like to walk through it with me." She added, her long fingers linking with his and tracing the inside of his palm. They did things like that, spending time pretending to live normal lives. The barbarian king would have astonishing artifacts, some lovely and some vulgar, though they'd pass through viewing time as if through a portal and musing about the past, and what the future would hold and if someone would walk through their artifacts if and when that time came.

Albrae strove to give him a visage of normalcy when he was home. She wanted her little manor to be a refuge and a place to lay his head when he needed some familiarity and comfort. And though she wasn't inclined to hide her nature from him wholly (they had after all enjoyed quite a few evenings in sharpening weapons an even doing a bit of sparring), she also strove to give him a haven and a place to have down time from some of those things he never talked about, but that she knew the entire Empire benefited from.

In many ways, the fact that Duncan was here with her at all humbled her. Their relationship had been unexpected, unasked for, and in many ways she had no idea where it was going. The child had started out as a side note, one she felt fiercely protective of, and one she wasn't going to let anything happen to... regardless of how much purebred and very powerful Rhasic blood flowed through its veins. And though their situation wasn't an ideal one, they made something special of it regardless. Now though, the baby was something more. It was a symbol of hope and a constant reminder for the need to change. It was a piece of him she could hold forever, one that wasn't duty bound and beholden to far more in the world than her.

"I missed you." She said softly, smiling as she looked at him, noting his exhaustion. "I'm glad you've come for a while. You look like you could use the rest and some down time." She said, keeping her words light, unobtrusive. Albrae didn't ask questions, not really, and Duncan volunteered very little. He didn't need too though. She trusted him, knew him, and accepted who and what he was. She wasn't, however, willing to accept him running himself ragged without rest. "I'll make us something amazing to eat a little later and then perhaps you'll join me for a walk?" She was never alone. Tyrale was her constant shadow and so she didn't need the company. She did, however, need the companionship.

[Duncan Sythe]

He avoided the difficulty of making when she asked, keeping silent and letting her study the music box. It had of course not exactly been easy to find someone with that much skill...but then that was part of the gift and she knew it and was acknowledging that.

It brought a smile however as he curled up with her, stroking her cheek at the question. Whilst the smile remained for a moment it vanished from his eyes as the reasons behind it chilled through his mind. The threat of madness... The touch on his arm brought him back though and he tilted his hand to touch her own in turn.

“Well.” He assured her. “I'm glad you are too.”

As she replied he remained silent, the explanation coming out. His eyes accepted it without changing, although the smile had receded to be replaced with concern and a slim line of recrimination...but ner-undetectable, Tyrale had no doubt done enough of that and her own mind the rest... she knew how he felt and didn't need it confirmed. As for the pups.

“Perhaps.” Was all he said on that, face indecipherable. He hadn't made his mind up on that score and there was too much left to be resolved regarding the Sanguine and his own 'people' before he could.

When it came to politics though he slowly shook his head and stared out at the water, peace coming over them both for a moment as conversation ceased and he listened to the cool flows.

“Milo...is doing his best and there is only so much anyone can do these brightenings.” He said at last. “The Aelyrians are trouble if ever I've seen it Albrae. Powerful and without the whims of the Gods...and if i don't miss my guess more than a touch mad and politically unstable. I would be happier if they had never returned...but it seems the world must deal with the cards it has been dealt and not reach up it's sleeve for a joker.”

A smile graced his face at the analogy, almost whimsical as he caught her hand and squeezed gently as she continued her own contribution about museums and tombs. He always enjoyed such visits for the normality they brought and the peace. Two people who could be anyone viewing art and culture in the guise of the well-to-do. It was a culture where few asked questions and few explanations were given if you were able to attend such events, which suited him and Albrae to the ground.

Of course occasionally one or the other of them would ask something, as he suspected would be the case at this exhibition that caught an attendant off guard, but such things were part of the fun.

“I'd love to.” He said with genuine affection, smiling widely as she moved onto food. A little-known discovery had been his love for both her cooking and his own. He could never profess it to be a skill he actively sought but he managed well enough when he needed to.

“Only.” The Mystic offered lastly. “If you promise to let me to the cutting and carrying this time. What's on the menu?”

There were other things behind that and he suspected she knew as well as he did that with the baby as it was...there would be other things to discuss this time and little time left to put it all off. But for now they would eat and see where conversation took them, it always took them where they needed to be eventually even if it was not always where they wanted in terms of thought and emotion... Still at the end he rested a hand gently on her stomach as she answered, assuring her of one thing at least: There was still no regret on what had happened and to him...the baby was not an afterthought; even if it was coming into a world with more complexities than either of their parents would wish upon it.

[Gossamer]

She set the music box on the table and covered it with a corner of their shared blanket to protect it from the snow. When they both decided to move finally, she'd take it inside and give it a prominent place on her mantel. There wasn't much else on it, and the wood would match the rest of the wood in the room.... a fitting resting place where she could dance to the lovely little tune when no one was watching, and when Duncan wasn't near. He was always thoughtful like that, paying particular attention to detail.

"I think it shall be cooks choice tonight. We have a wide selection of both lamb and chicken in the ice box and I did the shopping two days ago so there's fresh vegetables as well, not the nasty storage types... but real greenhouse ones. Something light though, if you please. I baked bread this morning, so thats done. But if your too tired, we have a large stock pot on the back of the fire of potato soup spiced with a bit of ham." She added, having anticipated herself being a bit too tired to feel like cooking. "It's been slow cooking all afternoon. But your free to make something heartier." She added. Albrae grinned and it was then, with the soft snow falling, that the light fell across her face and erased the lines of fatigue and worry. She looked almost angelic and if anything more beautiful than ever, even with her stomach rounding and her awkwardness.

"Duncan, I wanted to ask you... if you had given it any more thought to a name. I know you can... well tell what we're going to have, but you haven't said anything to me. I think I'm ready to ... well talk about it. All of it...." She said gently, though there was an iron clad stubborn strength that infused her voice. He would know what she meant. Albrae wanted to know if they were having a boy or a girl, what Duncan wanted to name it, and how they were going to handle things in the future. There was a underlined sense of horror sometimes, and he'd seen from her memories that once she'd killed a child for being a cross between a Sanguine and a Rhasic. And when she'd held that child's stone in her hand, it had a unique coloring to the crystal... and it hadn't been 'reclaimed' like its dead mother's crystal had. Niravia hadn't spoken about it. No one had.

There was a bitter sorrow in her now, and sometimes he caught the unguarded ends of her thoughts on the dead baby.. Sanguine Cyrus' Son. Cyrus had vowed to kill her, but had found himself caught up in the workings of the Zali'mau, and had instead embraced his Sanguine nature. In fact, many of the women were in a similar condition to Albrae, though not as advanced by far. A new generation would be born due to Cyrus' presence... pureblood Sanguine. Albrae turned and looked at Duncan. Almost against her will her hand raised and stroked through his loose hair. The man was so dedicated, so silently battling everything on his own. She wondered if they would ever come together and find common ground. So far, they'd done so by avoiding certain topics and living quietly.

It couldn't last, and when he'd left the last time she'd promised that this time they'd face some of their issues. They'd have too. Time was running out. But she couldn't bring herself to speak of more of it. He was here, safe, and his eyes were clear of madness. She whispered a soft prayer and shifted, laying her head down on his shoulder and watching him. Albrae never spoke of love, though her every action showed it. She refused to pressure Duncan, burden him, or be anything else than just a quiet presence in his life. She just wished... he'd trust her more and open up. He was silent by nature, stoic, and often thought about something for days before mentioning it. She didn't want to change his nature, but she did wish he let her in a little more and unburden himself on some of the problems that he was facing.

"You know, the Aelyrians have such myths surrounding them.... but most of them didn't turn out to well. History covers it up, I think, but there is an underlying current of instability there.... maybe even madness. I've seen a lot of it in my life, and all the signs are there. I know they waged war. I know they have done things were far from... stable, despite all their advances. Be very careful with them. I don't think we know the whole story. Lots of time in the past they've returned, subtly, mettled, then moved on. Never like this, but it was bad enough when it was just a fringe interference... like closing Aelyria Prime." She said gently, shaking her head slightly. Toes curled around his legs seeking warmth against his trousers and boots. Albrae smiled and Duncan felt a small yet violent nudge against his side where the woman was curled up against him. It happened again, and he realized it was the baby kicking.

When it happened again, she sat up and frowned. "I'm going to have to walk." She said, slipping her feet into the half boots under the chair and taking the music box in out of the weather. "Join me?" She said, covering her discomfort with movement. Albrae intended to head in, stir the soup, and move around a bit to see if the baby would settle. Later, they could go hike the streets.

[Duncan Sythe]

That she had refused to pressure him would be surprising in what came next. The stroke through his loose hair and her words energised him in a way she had not seen since they had shared the same bed...since then and when her pregnancy had become obvious he had backed off to allow her to rest her back and relax. He had wanted her to be comfortable and so had not imposed himself.

Now though the sheer.... worry? Perhaps, that was how he read it, in her eyes, forced him to act. Despite her abilities, despite her bondmate, she seemed vulnerable and completely at his whim and in need of reassurance. He allowed himself to be led inside, allowed the music box to be placed out of the way for he did not want it to get in the way, nor did he wish Albrae to be distracted. Then very firmly as she turned away from the mantel he took her shoulders and put her gently to the wall beside the mantel to gain her full attention.

“Albrae Nordmar.” He said deliberately, arms rubbing down her shoulders and upper arms. “This is our child.”

His term was firm, reality. No matter what it took to make it reality he would do it. It was a term she had heard several times since they had become so involved and each thing spoken with such firmness had become truth. Exactly what had been done to enable that truth...she had never asked, and he had never offered.

“I can tell what he or she will be but...I do not wish to.” he added softly, truthfully. He could tell but why spoil the surprise? Why spoil the time they had together in ignorance...sometimes it was good not to abuse his abilities “Boy or girl, the child is ours Albrae and I will do all I can to protect our little one.” A knuckle touched her cheek just below her left eye, the hand having left our shoulder. Now his expression was sad.

“Whatever our child is, it faces the same Cyrus's did. You can never repay him for what happened but you can make it up with ours and the knowledge we gained from our meeting.” He continued quietly, firmly, his hands still on her shoulders, holding her to the wall and holding her attention.

“I love you Albrae, no-one else. You I understand.” And there was more to that sentence than met the eye. “Whatever has happened this is our child, no other...things are different.”

He continued to reassue her suspicions, kissing her with a firm, unyielding passion.

“Our child will be safe.” He continued. “Whatever that brings, our child will be safe.”

It was clear he was avoiding determination although not because of the difficulty of doing s. It was as Albrae knew, because he did not want to use his abilities on an innocent without reason...

“I have thought on this, we have committed to this path, we are both in it together....our child will be safe.”

There was chilling firmness in that which almost challenged Albrae herself. The child would live after they had both born it, Duncan offered no less to Albrae but equally acknowledged to the full his own shared, 50/50 part in the conception of the baby. In turn he acknowledged his responsibility to it, with all his power.

“As for the Aelyrians dear Albrae, you are clutching at straws. I am as wary as I can be of them, but against their power and strangeness only I can do so much. Let us walk.” He continued finally. “Together. And talk of our child.” He meant, leading her into the kitchen as he spoke to stir the soup, firmly in command.

“The Aelyrians I can do little of, but if you really wish to know of our child, please ask, do not speak in riddles.”

He said almost in a fashion that chided...ironic as it was when dealing with women Duncan did not like the subtleties employed in the company of his peers. He preferred things logical and organised.

“There is much we need to talk about i think, that we have avoided. What does history tell us of our child?”

Duncan asked finally.

“Show me.”

He confirmed in the end, indicating that Albrae should open her mind up to him as she had before, to confirm to him the fears of the Sanguine shared consciousness that had he experienced regarding it's history; now regarding what a Sanguine/Rhasic hybrid would bring. It was a request none the less to one he loved, but his eyes bore testiment to the understanding of its cost. He was asking her to commit to what lay within her and to him, to commit to the lies they had lived to these past months together and to admit she was truly apart from her sisters and brothers now and work towards the new order.

...And tell the Rhasic about what his child brought the world.

[Gossamer]

Tyrale shadowed them into the house and sprawled out on the flagstones by the hearth where the fire was burning to warm the place against the snow outside. His ever watchful eyes seemed to remind Duncan that regardless of what else happened, Albrae was never ever going to be alone. The gaze held a warning and respect, in equal measures, for the Virkyn had learned not to get in the way of Duncan and Albrae's dealings. His sister needed things, and if Duncan provided them for her, then that was almost enough, even though the overwhelming scent of Duncan's rhasic blood sometimes made the Virkyn rise and pace or slip out to get fresh air. This was different though. He knew his sister needed more support now than she ever did, for she was facing things she hadn't faced in hundreds of years. Foremost on her mind, the Virkyn knew, was that Albrae knew without a bonding the child wouldn't live the great lengths most Sanguine did, and the mother didn't want to outlive her offspring, for they'd already bonded somehow, as her time grew closer, it only required a first meeting for the love to be solidified.

Duncan's actions though, gently pushing Albrae against the wall, caused Tyrale to lift his head. Her feelings flooded him and he sighed shaking his head and dropping it back down onto his paws. The girl was daft.

Green eyes met blue as she looked into those warm safe eyes and watched him curiously. Albrae never quite knew what Duncan was going to do or say, even when he was handling her like she was fine porcelain. Ours. A smile played across her face and she looked younger in that moment... younger than the late twenties she looked. But his words continued, and her face lost its smile when his words turned serious. Duncan always had the ability to speak to the heart of an issue, whether or not he meant too. There were no babbling verbal awkwardness. Rather, he seemed to sum up the details rather nicely.

Albrae stopped him then, before the affection, before the resolutions and leaned into him, wrapping her arms up over his shoulder and tipping her forehead upwards to lay it against his. Since the pregnancy, she'd been softer, more yielding than the hard time-worn killer he'd first met. There had been a rediscovery of her ability to love, to cherish, and that awakening had brought with it a warm intelligence and a quick witted humor that often flashed up at unexpected moments. One was forthcoming.

"I only wanted to know if I should be sewing dresses or trousers and knitting pink booties or blue." They both knew she couldn't sew, or knit for that matter. She spent her time sharpening her knives and practicing her midnight wall climbing skills. But regardless there was a rich chocolate warmth that her voice cast over him. It was like sipping cocoa in a blinding blizzard and finding it blissful despite the cold.

She reacted to the kiss like she reacted to everything with him, fully embracing and indulging it. What he gave she gave back and there could be no doubting the warmth of her feelings winding through his consciousness. She didn't do it purposely nor did she have any mystical talent. But he'd walked in her mind, in her past, and it gave him a knowledge of her body and her 'patterns' as easily as it did his own. Reading her was as difficult as capturing her emerald gaze or a hint of her smile.

She'd missed him.

And after she'd tasted him, still feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she pulled away and it was her turn to reach out and stroke his cheek, firmly grasping his chin and lifting it gently. "I'm Albrae Nordmar, Duncan Sythe, and there is no way our child faces what Cyrus' did. Ben didn't have a chance, neither did Elizabeth Winters. This though, is different. The Hunter is the protector, and she's fierce in either guise. No one will threaten the life we've created. If they do, they will not like what I have to say about it. And I do not speak with words, not like you, my ......” Her what? Love? Yes... but he was so much more than that. He was... in many ways, her mate. His strengths were her weaknesses, and she buoyed him up where he lacked. The thought brought a smile to her face, a new one, and she leaned forward to graze his jawline with her lips.

"My love. It's not enough though, you know. You are more than that. I just don't have a word for it." She said, suddenly reaching back into the collective memory that was always there, surface level. "Mivasu" Yes, that was better... Life-mate, equal, other half. A rhasic word, but somehow fitting here. Niravia would have puppies hearing it from Albrae's lips about Duncan. The thought made her smile brighter. She was being silly, horribly sentimental and it wasn't like her at all. Hands left his shoulders, to run gently across her abdomen, blaming the child... rather than the man himself.

It would be a terrible day when she had to kill him, she thought suddenly, looking into his beloved eyes. It would be her last day too if they couldn't find an answer. Trust was a hard thing, but she was trusting him. Right now, there was little she could do in her condition. It was a waiting game, and everyone knew it. But once the birth happened, she'd get back to the fight. Fiercely. Her smile reflected the thought, almost feral in its intensity. But sometimes... especially when he spoke like he just did... she wondered if he thought or worried that she'd hurt her own child? She'd been a killer for hundreds of years, and sometimes she wondered if he'd be at the birth to take the child, fearful of its mother's training and perhaps her lack of strength to resist it. Albrae would never let anything happen to Duncan's son or daughter, ever, and she only hoped he knew it.

She was one of the best there was. Her hands had more blood on them than most. Next year, the Gods willing, she'd take the leadership of the Sanguine from Niravia and cut her friend loose to finally rest. Duncan didn't understand that, Albrae decided, how close Niravia and the younger sanguine were. It would have to be something that was remedied. She wanted them to meet.... especially now, that times were so strange and the world was changing so fast. Even Tyrale had sired Nemaru's pups. Every day, Albrae prayed that the Sanguine could adjust and that the changes wouldn't come to fast.

Time had a way though, of making change hard... the Sanguine were a living testimony to that, where the Rhasic passed through life unaware and thus unaffected by the shifts in politics, religion, and culture. Albrae wasn't so lucky.

"Duncan..." She said finally and firmly. "I know. If I have my way, we will all be safe. There is a way, somewhere and somehow. We just need to find it." The woman said, stepping closer and laying her hands on his hips. She leaned forward, and enjoyed his deep rich scent. Albrae shared Tyrale's senses, and though she'd never admit it to Duncan, she'd know his essence anywhere. It lingered, in her home, on her skin, upon her tongue.

Emotion coursed through her and she shivered at its intensity. Protective... fiercely protective. Mine. It would be so hard, so very hard, to let him go if she had too.

He turned the talk to the Aleyrians and she was relieved. Unlike Duncan, Albrae had lived in a world with Aelyrians. They weren't so strange to her, though they were indeed reclusive. It wasn't as if they were influential, but there were tiers to society, and they dwelled in one that didn't touch hers. Knowing that though, She remembered seeing them, reading their edicts, having to leave the city for rebuilding. She remembered the distance past as well where there were more of them. Albrae should tell him, she supposed, that they were mad most of them... not in way that madness struck his bloodline after their fiftyith year... no... but in a way that a man sick from something non functioning in his mind made him see things, itch his skin, check locks, wash his hands repeatedly. Sometimes even, she remembered the stories but they were vague.

Once upon a time, in another life, Albrae had been a Keeper. It was something Duncan perhaps rarely remembered, though the girl held her life close to her, all phases of it. Once she'd had a family, parents, an older brother named Tyrale. It was for that life she fought now, even as her fingers entwined with a Rhasics and she let him lead her into the kitchen to give the soup a stir, gather coats, and spill out onto the street for a walk.

Duncan, if ever, was attentive of her restless nature and often indulged her. At the same time, their relationship was such that there were things the mystic took for granted as well.

"Show me." Came off non-offensive, though she would hate him .... absolutely hate him if he ever voiced his fears that she was different than her kin now. She wasn't, and she'd fight the notion tooth and nail. She was simply Albrae Nordmar, Sanguine, Lover, Mother.... Duncan's neat little classifications went ignored. Sure she was open to a new way, a next phase, a partnership with him... but she wasn't... nor would she ever dwell outside her Sanguine Sisters and their few and far between brothers.

Fingers wove into hers as they walked, and she let her mind drift off into the past. Duncan could read her thoughts easily, though she never found him invasive. It was not the first time he'd done it, and their bonding seemed to make it easier. Much like he was living them, his mind wandered through her memories. Ben came first to mind, for obvious reasons, and he felt the regret of her humanity coming back to her. That was a turning point, Duncan realized, when she destroyed that family and left Cyrus for dead. Crystals laid in Albrae's hand... Elizabeths glittered black, but Ben's had a translucent gold quality to it. The chamber in Coldlight wouldn't accept it. Niravia had taken the crystal instead, puzzled by it. Thats when they'd learned of Cyrus. Albrae hadn't killed him because he wasn't Rhasic, but she hadn't known he was Sanguine until the Russet Virkyn Pandora had found him... unbonded, and bonded. It had been another powerful moment in Sanguine history. She refused to die, and had refused to give into the bloodlust the pups found if they didn't bond. Instead she'd showed tremendous courage and had gone after what she wanted.

Her mind circled back, past other lifetimes and other memories... most not Albrae's own. There was no knowledge of another child. It simply hadn't ... happened before. No, that wasn't exactly correct. A bonded Sanguine could sense a Rhasic, and would never bed one. It went against everything they knew. But odds were, as Albrae thought on it, non-bonded Sanguine, those just carrying the bloodline might indeed have laid down with Rhasic and bore children. But how to know? She didn't have a clue. Ben had scented Rhasic like his mother. Would her own child feel the same? Albrae's thoughts turned to that and then the worry. Duncan got a full force of the worry. Albrae wanted the child to bond, was terrified it wouldn't with having a rhasic scent, and if it didn't bond, it wouldn't live her lengthy lifetime.

She pulled her thoughts away from that, redirecting them to look at the past and coming up short. A jolt struck her though, as she came across a male Sanguine. A boy... and she frowned. Bonded? Captured... bonded... She pushed deeper looking for a connection and realized the link was tenuous and the mind she met quite gone with rage. Rage over the killing his Virkyn had to do repeatedly... over and over and over... or he faced beatings. Dog fights.. Pits... faces with oval eyes and yellow gold skin. Duncan felt the overwhelming sensation of a collar around his neck and madness on the edge of his vision as Albrae tapped something in her search of the collective memories of the Sanguine.

He heard the announcer, a date not to far past... weeks even, and felt the blood of a Virkyn killing another pit dog as a boy wept in his madness, reassuring the female that he'd get her free... somehow.

Albrae stood rock still, no longer walking down the cobbled walkway. Her skin was ashen and she frowned with a fierceness that allowed her rage to flood in like a tidal wave. Killer... all killer. She stood there soaked in rage and grabbed the memory forcefully. Where? WHERE? Nothing... there was nothing she recognized and it was no place she'd been.

She opened her eyes, caught Duncan's gaze and opened her mouth to explain. But she saw it in his eyes that he'd seen it too. And he knew. The collective was his to access through her anytime. But just now... just now indeed she didn't care. The woman shook with her rage, and he felt it coil around him deadly and powerful. The full force of who and what she was and what her leggacy brought with it hit him as even the presence of the babe in her womb reacted to her rage and agreed. Their bond was strong, and in that moment Albrae realized something else. The strong emotion... the incredibly intense emotion brought it on. The babe was also part of the collective, as Sanguine as the rest while nestled in his mother's womb. Male. And even before his birth, he reached out, soothing his mother's rage and welcoming Duncans presence with the skill not unlike Duncan's own.

Peace. The child wanted peace in both their hearts.

Sanguine paused briefly in every part of Telath and let a simple mysterious emotion wash over them. Simple folk, all rhasic, some arcanists in their towers and some farmers in their fields, and even some locked in their madness and sitting in rubbish in back alleys paused, and smiled slightly just for a moment. Two faces to one coin....

[Duncan Sythe]

Her passion was breathtaking. It was part of what Duncan adored about Albrae, not the, only part but the core. She was dedicated and she believed, and she truly wanted the best for all she believed in. Yet she had her own convictions and her own opinions, her own force of will that went in a separate direction to his at times...but always converged in the end because they understood one another. It was not compromise so much as mutual agreement – and there was a big enough difference to merit the distinction. They understood what had to be done and found the way forward, there was no give or take by either of them.

As she tilted his chin up he watched her, curious. Her words narrowed his eyes but caused a small smile as she kissed his jaw. Yet those eyes remained narrowed in curiousity at the puzzle she seemed to be having with words until the solution emerged from her lips; the answer.

Mivasu.

He didn't need to look at the Virkyn to know his ears had perked up, but equally he...understood. Just about. It couldn't be said that Three Was a Crowd. No, Tyrale understood too much to fit that adage, it was more an underscore on why his relationship with Albrae Nordmar was so Aeternia damned complicated.

But then, such things only happened to the likes of Duncan Sythe, to do things simply would have, it seemed, been sacrilege to his very soul.

There was a giddy brightness to her though that warmed his heart and made him smile in turn, stroking her cheek and drawing her close for a moment that did not last half as long as either of them wanted as Albrae's thoughts overtook her, it was a trait the two seemed to share – amongst all their complimentary differences.

Pressed to her as he was though he continued to enjoy the moment as she pledged her commitment to safety and a solution, turning then to speak of other things and just enjoying the time together. Until the time came when they walked together.

Thoughts sobered then as his question brought memory of the death of the last Sanguine and Rhasic child. So many firsts though, as he soared through the collective memories with her thoughtfully and quietly, so many new things. Who knew why, but perhaps there was some pattern to it beyond his understanding, beyond even that of the Gods. Duncan had joked about believing in fate to himself before but now he was not so sure. Aelyrians, change, now this. So much in such a short time, there had to be some reason even if it was a mathematical formula for convergence – not that he knew anything about that kind of pursuit.

Albrae's worry about their child caused him to squeeze her hand, even as they came to one of the few points of contention between them. The Sanguine had been offered long life as part of their exchange provided they bonded, yet he could not see how any Virkyn would accept his child given the mixed blood – he refused to call it tainted. It was just simple logic – and if they did it would be a dramatic diversion.

Yet he knew little of young Virkyn pups and perhaps the immature mind, unused to its n